#and i never did get the training i was promised

[lovedazai]

WORST BEHAVIOR . . . dazai gets turned on watching you fight and just can’t help himself.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, possessive behavior, physical fighting, dazai is a little pervy, one use of ‘good girl’, semi-public & unprotected sex, choking (m!receiving), 2.5k w.c…mdni !!

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i know i’ve been promising this one for a while :< thank you for being patient with me !!

dazai already knows you indulge him; you let him get away with more than anyone else ever would. even outside of work, when he’s stripped of the authority that comes from being the youngest port mafia executive, the unspoken next in line for the throne of yokohama’s underworld, you always give into his whines of five more minutes or just one more kiss, i swear.

if you asked him, it was your own fault that he liked you so much; you were addicting. if the port mafia was a black hole where all light escaped, you were a twinkling star, falling from the sky right into dazai’s blood-soaked hands, and he loves you more than he ever thought he could. you weren’t quite an executive yet, but you were good at what you didー fighting.

there were only a few things in his meaningless life that made him less than bored: drinking with odasaku after work, harassing chuuya to tears, and watching you train, or better yet, getting to see you on a mission. his favorite part was that you always looked so, so hot while you were doing it.

he tries to act surprised when you’re both sent to take care of some low-level group, threatening to leak information that they definitely didn’t have. he didn’t really have to come with you on this assignment, it was below his level as an executive, after all, but he went through all of the trouble of leaking the address to one of the mafia’s “hideouts”, ensuring they’d show up at the dingy warehouse. it looms before the two of you, weathered from the salty air of the port, glass windows splintered and broken.

his coat flutters behind him with every giddy step, happily following after you and your little black skirt; maybe if he was lucky enough, he’d get a peek beneath it.

“are you sure you don’t have somewhere else to be right now?” you turn to look over your shoulder, reaching your hand out for him and intertwining your fingers loosely.

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” he swings your arms between the two of you loosely. you only drop his hand to pull the rusty door open, greeted by three men, all expectantly waiting for you.

“my, my,” he whispers against the curve of your ear. “looks like we’ve been caught.”

“what do we have here? a little girl…” one of the men grins, looking at you in a way that made dazai want to kill him himself. the way his eyes drag up your body stirs an instinct to pull you behind him. “…and her guard dog?”

of course, he’d never put you in any real danger. this group was pathetic, and even at three to one, they didn’t stand a chance against you. dazai can predict all of their moves flawlessly anyway, and you have a implicit understanding that he never gives you more than he knows you can handle. his gun remains heavy against his side, always within his reachー just in case.

his fingers instinctively twitch towards the grip as one of the men reaches to grab you, but you don’t let him, seizing him by the forearm, leg sweeping him from behind and tossing him onto the ground. he falls to the concrete with a groan, looking up at you with a dazed scowl. the heel of your foot connects with his jaw before he can make another move, and he falls still against the ground.

one of the other men comes from the side, but you’re still too quick, catching him out of the corner of your eye and dodging with ease. you hit him hard enough for him to stumble, and you take the opportunity to grab him by the throat, knocking him backward. dazai’s eyes widen, the hair rising against the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck; he was almost jealous. the man chokes as you slam his back against the wall hard enough for his eyes to roll back and his body to crumple to the ground.

there’s only one man left, and your lip splits when his fist connects with your face. dazai’s eyes narrow, and the man’s glaze over in frustration as you recover quick enough to dodge his next hit, crouching low. you curl your leg around his waist from behind, pulling him down to the ground by the back of his shirt until he’s pinned beneath you.

you’re quick to get up, and when you’re far enough away for dazai’s comfort, he aims his gun and fires once, twice, then again before the man falls still.

the only thing heavier than dazai’s presence is his gaze, and you feel it prickle against your skin like the sharp edge of a knife from where he’s still standing in the doorway. when you meet his eyes, they’re red and glowing, and locked onto you.

he walks towards you, only the heavy sound of his shoes against the cement and your quiet breaths filling the warehouse. you swipe your thumb across your lip, breaking his gaze to look at the blood smeared into the crevices of your fingertip before dazai grabs your chin, tilting it upward. his tongue is warm as it traces along the cut before he presses it past your lips. your noise of surprise is muffled as he kisses you, the taste of your own blood permeating your mouth.

he walks you backward until the back of your heels hit the edge of the cold, concrete wall. his mouth never leaves yours, tracing the roof of your mouth and the edge of your teeth as if he doesn’t already have every part of you committed to memory. his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, poking against your thigh as he presses himself flush against you.

“dazai,” you try to warn, but it isn’t very convincing, breathed out like a hymn; god, his name has never sounded so sweet. he sings your name back with a smile, groping you through your shirt with one hand as the other unbuckles his belt. he slides his fingers down your stomach until he pulls your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your waistband, flipping the hem of your skirt upward to expose those cute little panties. “we’re still…we’re here. in a dirty warehouse.”

“what’s wrong? there’s no one else around. you made sure of that, didn’t you?” he cups your chin between his fingers again and turns your head towards the enemies, bloodied and unconscious, chests heaving shallowly. he presses a kiss to your jaw, trailing up until his lips rest against the curve of your ear. “did you already forget? when their bloodstains haven’t even set into your clothes yet? i didn’t know you could be so cold.”

he unbuttons your shirt with the flick of his thumb, just enough to expose the curve of your tits, sitting oh so prettily in your bra. he skims his fingers against your panties, stroking the soft fabric where your most sensitive spot is covered. he pulls them aside, giggling against your ear when you’re already wet as he slips his middle and pointer fingers inside of you. your frown falters as he curls them with expert precision, eyelids fluttering in bliss as something achingly sweet ignites in your stomach.

“you know what i was thinking while i was watching you?” he drops his voice low, watching the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when he finds your clit, grinding the heel of his palm against it in pressured circles. “‘i wonder how it’d feel for her to choke me like that…to wrap these pretty little fingers around my neck and squeeze’.”

the lingering adrenaline of a fight and dazai’s body pressed so close to yours makes you feel dizzy. you part your lips to reply, but his hand is back on your jaw before you can respond, brushing his mouth over yours teasingly.

“do you have any idea what you do to me?” the pad of his thumb is cold against your warm cheek. he strokes himself with the slick collected on his fingers, pressing into you with the tip of his cock. his bangs fall over his eyes as he hangs his head and watches you stretch around the shape of him, disappearing inside your warm cunt inch by inch.

your nails dig into his arms, feeling his lithe muscles tense through the expensive fabric of his coat. he pries your hands off, fingers wrapping around your wrists as he pins them against the wall, holding them in place with one hand. his grin bites against your neck as you throw your head back and arch your hips instinctively.

“my good girl,” he breathes, sucking the skin beneath your ear between his teeth, soothing it with a kiss when you whine. “my sweet, perfect girl.”

“mhm,” you exhale, your own breath getting caught in your throat. your back is pressed against the cool cement behind you, with dazai’s firm chest flush against your front. the broken window above you pools sunlight over your half-dressed bodies. “yours.”

you feel his uneven breathing against your skin as he presses his lips against your jaw. his cock rubs against you deliciously, velvet walls fluttering and clinging to him each time he pulls his hips back. it’s so easy to melt into him like this, with the security of his hands against your skin, his soft hair tickling your neck, and his cock filling you perfectly, like you were made for him to take.

he lifts your leg, fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh and supporting your weight. he thrusts inside you at a new angle, hitting the slightest bit deeper, but it’s just enough to make you gasp as your belly flutters and your knees nearly buckle beneath his palm as he holds you up. your hands clench around nothing, nails digging into your palms in a desperate need to hold onto something.

“the way you threw that man and pinned him to the ground,” he whispers. “would you do that to me?”

“no,” you’re breathless, words lost on you as your mind clouds over with pleasure. his hips grind against yours, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as your eyes roll backward. “i don’tー i’d never hurt you.”

“but i’d let you,” he rasps. “you could do whatever you want to me.”

he lets go of your wrists, and you bend your leg around his waist, trying to press him even deeper. you balance on your tip toes as he thrusts into you harshly, curling your arms around his shoulders, as if his cock nestled inside you wasn’t close enough; it was never enough when it came to dazai.

“fuck,” your voice is breathy and broken, and it echoes throughout the gutted warehouse. the heat building in your stomach is already overwhelming, rushing to your head until you feel drunk on it. your muscles are taut, toes curled as you feel him throb inside you, his hips stuttering. “osamu.”

his grip on you tightens, and he whines; it’s just barely audible, and you would’ve missed it if he wasn’t right next to your ear. your eyes are hazy, half open as you look at him through your lashes as he watches the way your tits bounce against the fabric of your bra in time with his movements.

your hand trembles as you lift it, closing your fingers loosely around his neck and pulling his gaze back to yours. you can’t help but grin, lips curving up into a drunken smile as you watch his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. dazai rarely expresses his emotions so openly, and you commit it to memory as best you can through the fuzzy feelings of bliss blurring the edges of your mind. he lets out the prettiest noise, something between a moan and a cry vibrating against your palm, his cock throbbing inside you as you squeeze his bandaged neck.

his thrusts grow sporadic, breathy moans growing in volume. his nails dig into your hips, and you rub your clit desperately, quivering in his grip as you feel him stall and cum, warm and deep inside you.

everything fades to static as the sweetness in your belly burns brighter and brighter until it finally explodes into white, hot, sparkling pieces that pierce your vision. dazai pants and hangs his head, but his eyes snap to yours as you mumble something close to “cummingー”, always so desperate to take in the pretty way you fall apart for him, because of him.

he whimpers when you draw your hand from his throat to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. you cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb against the tape holding his small patch of gauze in place as you breathe in one another.

your legs ache, tensed muscles finally relaxing as you lower your foot back to the ground unsteadily. your head falls against the wall with a final sigh, chest heaving. dazai is beaming at you when you peek your eyes open after a few moments, looking irritatingly adorable with his messy hair and crooked tie.

“i can’t believe we did that here,” you glance towards the pieces of shattered glass that litter the ground.

“you loved it,” he smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “you love me〜”

he pulls out of you carefully, snapping your underwear back into place. you grip his tie, wrapping it around your hand and pulling him in to press your mouth to his before straightening it and sliding the knot back into place.

he pouts as he watches you start to button your shirt back up, squeezing your waist softly.

“can’t you leave some open?”

your glare is weak, and he meets it with a smile. he slides his coat off his shoulders, draping it over your own to hide your wrinkled clothes.

“i’ll call a car to get us,” he hums, slipping his hand into your own as he guides you outside the warehouse. “i’ll even give you the rest of the day off for a good performance!”

you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepy and sated. the breeze is cool on your warm skin, carrying the scent of the sea as it gently brushes through your hair.

“you know,” he starts, typing away at his phone, still as happy as ever. “you still owe me lunch from losing that bet last week.”

he has another tease on the tip of his tongue, but he falters when he sees the red splotch of blood staining your pouted lips. he slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face towards him. he frowns at the cut, visible eye narrowing as he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his wrist loosely, pulling it back to press your lips to his palmー i’m okay. he sees one of the mafia’s black cars pulling in from the corner of his eye, and presses a lingering kiss to your foreheadー i know. he pulls the lapels of his jacket tighter around your shoulders before he slips his hand back into yours, and when he walks you to the car, his coat flutters behind you.

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖ #dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ʚ shhh ɞ

[ham1lton]

fight for this love.

pairings: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

warnings: nothing!

faceclaim: bella hadid.

summary: jude meets you at a promotional event for a brand you both have a deal with. after the first meeting, he’s smitten, but there is a problem. he never got your number.

— part three of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —

liked by gucci, judesgf and 1,028,728 others.

vogue: gucci’s newest ambassador, footballer jude bellingham, spills the beans (no pun intended) on his fav outfit combo, his ideal type and his favourite kebab place back home in birmingham.

user1: NEED HIM SO BAD 😍😍😍😩😩😩

user8: brb going to buy out gucci rn.

user7: WAIT…. his ideal type???

-> user9: it’s lowkey kind of boring. specific but not specific. he says he loves girls who are focused, smart and have good relationships with their friends and family.

-> user7: check, check and CHECK 😩 brb calling up my deadbeat dad rq just for u jude 😘😍

user6: gucci king we love him.

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liked by yourbffname, oscarpiastri and 1,237,665 others.

yourusername: gucci loves me and i love gucci ♥︎ thank u to the whole gucci team for having me alongside the other ambassadors at today’s event! it was so much fun!

oscarpiastri: you had the entire gucci catalogue to choose from and you still chose to dress like an ailing grandfather.

-> yourusername: drip or drown baby!

-> oscarpiastri: you’re the latter.

user1: i met you today at the gucci event!! you were so sweet. i was the one who gave u the bracelet! 🫶🏼

-> yourusername: yes!! thank u sm!! it was so cute and matched my outfit so well. i’m still wearing it!

logansargeant: when are you hooking me up with free gucci 🤨😒 we’ve been friends for more than a decade ms l/n….

-> yourusername: lemme work my magic 🙈✨

user78: she should have been a model instead of a formula one driver!! so pretty!! that bone structure 🤤

user7: did you see jude looking at her throughout the whole damn event? omg. he’s down bad.

-> user63: bro was simping 😭 i don’t blame him. i mean… it’s y/n.

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liked by oscarpiastri, yourbffname and 1,237,765 others.

judebellingham: took these pics last night. whoever my midnight muse was, please message me.

oscarpiastri: i know her mate. it’s landonorris.

-> landonorris: yes ‘tis i, your gucci girl 🥰

logansargeant: it’s yourusername, man. thank you for this. now she’ll stop talking about you in the gc 🙄🙄

-> user7: american and british solidarity.

user8: need a man willing to do a worldwide search for me.

-> user26: commit a crime, flee and you’ll get a whole fleet of men doing that for you <3

user12: oh to be jude bellingham’s midnight muse.

user90: how does bro not know the current world champion and first female f1 driver to break many barriers in the sport?? like she’s a household name 😭

-> user25: chronically offline 😭

yourusername: hi!! it’s me! these photos are gorgeous! yes, please message me <3 also ignore oscar, logan and lando in your comments please. they have no home training.

-> logansargeant: you could have stopped me if you had given me the gucci u promised 🤨

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liked by judebellingham, ynswifey and 1,272,892 others.

yourusername: i felt like my paddock outfit just wasn’t appreciated enough today.

oscarpiastri: this is all you post after your win?

-> yourusername: i put a lot of effort into this outfit! only charles said something. 😔

-> oscarpiastri: wow! y/n! jeans and a t-shirt! revolutionary!

-> yourusername: i’m gonna pretend that wasn’t sarcastic 😝🥰

user728: oscar doesn’t see the vision. this is super cute!!

user267: her posting this after she just hard launched her relationship with jude?!

-> user128: like girlie straight up jumped and kissed him after her win and hasn’t even acknowledged it???

judebellingham: u look so good.

-> user682: you couldn’t have texted her this shit? lmaoooooo.

user516: i appreciated it!!

-> yourusername: i love u sm 🫶🏼😍

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liked by ynsgf, zendaya and 1,727,982 others.

yourusername: tried to find out if blondes do truly have more fun. answer tbd.

— 📸 creds - my bf.

judebellingham: that’s ME in the caption btw.

-> yourusername: we know babe 😁🥰😝

gucci: i guess we’re matchmakers now?

-> logansargeant: YASSS 😩 now can i get free gucci or no 🤨

-> oscarpiastri: crazy emoji use man 😭 is it ever that serious.

judebellingham: i love you so much.

-> yourusername: love u forever. glad to be urs. 💕🫶🏻

user1: she ate this down we love a bad bitch and her supportive bf!

user71: him flying her out after she wins the championship!!! we love this for her!!

user16: why can’t i have a hot gf, be sexy, be rich, one of the most promising young athletes currently and be lounging on a beach somewhere…

-> user72: why can’t i have a hot bf, be sexy, be rich, one of the most promising young athletes currently and be lounging on a beach somewhere…

user68: we love a blonde moment!

-> yourusername: halfway through our holiday, i saw zendaya, rihanna and beyoncé go blonde and got extreme fomo.

-> judebellingham: she made me dye it. i was terrified.

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author’s note: reader here is heavily based off of what it would have been if nepo!sis reader was the driver instead of o/s but in that universe, she never would have dated lando. so… small blessings ig?

#jayde’s works ☆ #ham1lton 500 ☾ #f1 smau #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #football x reader #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham fluff

[thefirstforgottenpages]

I Learn From The Best

Authors note: hhhhhh was on a flight and that’s enough time to write a long fic sooooo buckle up buttercups

Also MAJOR disclaimer, I may have “beef” with liv for injuring Rhea, but under no circumstance condone the threats and harassment she’s getting. At the end of the day it should never be that deep… 

Warnings: Rhea Ripley x fem reader smut, wrestler! Reader, mommy/mami kink, oral, fingering, praise, squirting, swearing, liv morgan (she’s an opp rn lmao), 

“Baby I’m gonna be just fine.” You offhandedly shrug your response to Rhea and continue to punch at your training dummy. Rhea shakes her head at your cockiness, smirking as she steps in front of you, forcing you to stop your aggressive jabs. You were scheduled to fight Liv Morgan later today, and wanting nothing more than to avenge Rhea, you were putting in your all. A small grin graces your features as Rhea reaches out, grabbing your waist and pulling you in, careful to be gentle with her sprained shoulder. “You’re so hot when you’re feral.” Rhea jokes with a low chuckle. You roll your eyes, but nonetheless lean into the strong arms of your girlfriend.

“I’ll riptide her to get the message across.” You snort fiddling with Rhea’s layered necklaces—something you know she secretly loves, “she’ll think it’s you reincarnated.” You continue. Rhea shakes her head amused by your antics. “C’mon I got you food.” She says gesturing to the exit to the gym. You lick your lips, happy to have a distraction from the strenuous workout. Huffing, you agree, grabbing her hand and letting her drag you towards the door.

You felt little nerves about the match as it approached. Training with Dominik, Damian and Finn had helped up your pain tolerance and get into the mindset of a smaller opponent, now knowing how Liv’s thought process would be. So as you got ready, you allowed your mind to wander to what you were going to do after the match. Or, rather, more accurately, who was going to do you after the match. Your cheeks warmed at the thought of the lewd promises that were whispered to you. “Just a little motivation.” Rhea had purred to you earlier. “Motivation indeed.” You grin you yourself as you make your way backstage. 

Bouncing on the balls of your feet you wait for your music to play, when it does, you make the your way to the ring, a sinister smile gracing your lips as you eye Liv up. Your smile turns more genuine however, when you see Rhea sitting first row. With the coolness of her persona, she nods back in acknowledgement, but the arousing glint in Rhea’s blue eyes told more. They reminded you to the hopefully eventful night you had ahead of you. Winking at her, you slip into the ring waiting for the bell to start the match.

Being the favorite, the crowd was screaming itself hoarse for you, but an awed hush fell as you displayed your strength yet again in the match by throwing Liv like a rag doll. You found yourself laughing darkly as you sauntered to her crumpled form. You hoisted her up, making sure your next words were loud enough for the mics to pick up 

“Oh and this one’s from Rhea.” You spit before slamming her into Rhea’s signature pin. The crowd’s responding roar was even more deafening than before. You stuck your tongue out suggestively, eyes once more scanning the crowd before they found Rhea’s prideful gaze. As the ref called the three count, you beamed, throwing Liv’s legs to the side before walking with authority out of the ring. 

“Fucked that girl right up!” Dominik laughed as you got backstage, “couldn’t have done it better myself!” He grins childishly as you laugh. Damien voiced similar regards to your skill, but with less vulgarity laced in his words. “Did good kid,” he chuckled musing your hair as you received a happy punch to the arm from Finn. You then gasped as you felt a hand smooth over the curve of your hip. You know who it is before a different, knowing smile spreads on your face. Your name is cooed softly in your ear before a soft kiss is placed on your cheek. Your face blooms red as you tuck your chin into your chest. “The riptide was a nice touch.” Rhea says wrapping her arms around you. Her fingers dance nimbly up your sides, being sure to brush against any exposed skin your wrestling outfit flaunted.

“I learn from the best you know.” Your cheeky reply has her snorting, nudging her face into your neck.  The soft swirl of arousal in your belly that you get from the simple affection has you mentally face palming, but, with Rhea looking like she wants to eat you alive, it seems that your sentiment is returned. “Fucking hell get a room!” Finn’s disgusted groan has you and Rhea pulling sharply away from each other. Damian said nothing, but the knowing look he gave Rhea had her shrugging, a little bit red, and shaking her longer hair to cover her face. 

“Maybe we will.” You mumble softly, eyes immediately widening at the boldness of your self-inflicted embarrassment. Much to your relief however, the group of guys only laugh, unaware to the sincerity that lies behind your jest. 

Rhea was well aware of your slip up, you watch in badly suppressed lust as her jaw clenched and she shifts her legs tighter together. Her hand on your hip travels lower and you nearly arch at the warm sensation. When you let out a shaky breath, Rhea coughs, speaking up to address the group. “We’ll catch up with you guys later… we’re going back to the hotel.”  Her quick excuse has them nodding offhandedly, not understanding the underlying implications. 

Rhea smiles at you coyly as you nudge your side into hers and she hails a taxi your way quirking her brow as you hurriedly get inside. “What’s got you in a rush doll?” Rhea pretends to fix her black lipstick, swiping two fingers over her plump lips, she holds your gaze as she does so, smirking as you shift in your seat. Her teasing has you pouting prettily, blinking up at her as you pray for the trip back to be shorter than physically possible.

As soon as you were in the hotel room, no time was wasted. All it took was one look of hunger from Rhea and you were hurriedly ridding yourself of the complicated strappy garment you had on. Her rushed hands brushed over your body. You moaned at her eagerness, already too enraptured to care if you sounded needy. You knew she wanted this just as much as you did. “Does—oh-does your shoulder hurt?” Even in this state your concern shines through the pleasure. Rhea silences your worries with a biting kiss before she shakes her head.

“Always worried about me, yeah?” Rhea’s tone sounds cocky, but the affectionate kisses she then places on your cheeks tell a different story. “Always.” You confirm breathless, carefully helping her remove her own shirt. The pathway to the bed was strewn with various articles of clothing, and Rhea chuckles in satisfaction as you push her onto the bed. 

You giggle as she flips the both of you over, caging your body beneath hers as she presses her lips to your now bare chest.  “You look good like this.” Rhea’s voice has dropped to a deep rasp as she eyes the black lipstick marks she’s left on your smooth skin.

“Just good?” You bait, a dizzy smile on your blushed face. Rhea only looks smug before her hand trails up to your throat. The whimper you let out as she does so is loud and drawn out. “Beautiful actually.” Rhea clarifies grinning wider at your state, her other hand slowly trails down below your stomach. 

“I— holy fuck!” Your plea is cut short when Rhea’s skilled fingers shut you up. You arch into her hand as she finds your clit, “What was that darling?” It’s cruel because Rhea knows you can’t answer in this state. And as her middle and ring finger circle your soaked hole, you shake your head vigorously not being able to form a response. “Good girl,” she praises you simply, but your body reacts to her words blatantly. “Rhea…” you trail off unintelligibly and the whine in your voice has her groaning softly and rutting against the mattress as she pleasures you. “You’re so fucking tight sweetheart.” Rhea sighs as she curls her fingers.

Your eyes roll back as she rubs against your g-spot. “F-fuck mommy!” You choke out hand coming up to grip Rhea’s that was still delicately wrapped around your throat. “Feels good hmm?” Rhea questions, leaning closer to bite into your neck. No doubt leaving hickeys that you would have trouble covering up tomorrow. Your breath hitches once more as she adds another finger to your pussy. Your brain is moving slower than honey, the only thing that’s registering is how fucking good Rhea is finger fucking you. The lewd sounds that she was milking out of you would be embarrassing if you weren’t already so close to coming undone. You were quick to cover your face with your hands as Rhea noticed your change in demeanor. “Your gonna cum for me?” Even though Rhea voices it as a question, it’s more of a statement because she knows you will. “Yes—please Rhea-mommy please!” Your mewls are pornographically loud and Rhea moans at your neediness. “Since you asked so nicely.” She purrs to you before her thumb circles your clit with a precision that sends you over the edge moaning her name.

You were still drunk on the pleasure as you pulled Rhea in, your fingers gliding through her silky hair as you kissed her. She allows you to push her gently back once more as you grab at her plush thighs. As you inch further down, you’re keenly aware of the needy gasps that slip past Rhea’s parted lips. “Baby… please?” Her soft question is barely audible causing you giggle at her insistence. But you can’t deny her. How could you? Rhea chokes as you place several open mouthed kisses into her dripping cunt. “You’re a—a fucking tease.” She manages, grabbing a fistful of your hair. You press your lips to her inner thigh before you respond, voice as coy as ever.

“I learn from the best.”

#rhea ripley #Rhea ripley smut #wwe smut #Rhea Ripley x reader #Rhea ripley x reader smut #wwe fanfiction #Rhea ripley fan fiction #rhea ripley fanfiction #Rhea ripley wwe #Rhea ripley x fem!reader #Rhea ripley fic

[misshoneyimhome]

can we get some brothers best friend action with will?

where reader is mitch marner’s twin sister, and for as long as every one can remember, william and reader have always silently swooned and liked one another, and constantly blatantly flirted with each other. but reader had a long-term boyfriend, who might i add is/was super toxic and she physically couldn’t break up with him in fear he’d hurt her… so when they eventually did break up after he had done something bad to her, she ran to will’s apartment, not knowing who else to go to.

“No, I’m not leaving you like this.” Will

“Just tell me what you want.” Will

“I want you.” Reader

Absolutely, we can! Well, at least I hope we can 💓

I tried to portray your idea, but I wasn't sure if I made it too heavy 😅 I'm typically not into darker themes, but I found my thoughts naturally drifting in that direction 💓😉

If there was meant to be more of a smutty undertone, please let me know - I believe there could be a continuation, but I didn't feel it would mesh well with the dramatic scene 😉

Tropes & warnings; friends to lovers; mild abusive!boyfriend, toxic relationship; language, hurt emotions; happy ending, I promise!

Word count; 3.1K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50, @findapenny

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Storm & Thunder - “No, I’m not leaving you like this!” I William Nylander 🖋️🔥

For as far back as anyone could recall, there's been an undeniable connection between you and William Nylander. Growing up as Mitch Marner's twin sister, your life was closely linked to his from the early days of being drafted. And ever since the chemistry between you and William was unmistakable, simmering quietly beneath the surface like a promise yet to be fulfilled.

It all started innocently enough, with playful teasing and banter exchanged during family dinners and time spent in the hockey community. Initially, you were just friends; William saw you as nothing more than his good friend’s sister, and you were happy with that. However, as time passed, something changed between you, developing into a deeper, more significant bond.

It was in the stolen glances across crowded rooms, the gentle touches when passing each other in the hallway of the training arena or after games, and the way your heart would skip a beat whenever he flashed his trademark smirk at you.

And you knew you weren't alone in sensing the magnetic attraction between you. William's gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary, his smile slightly softer when directed at you. Though neither of you dared to articulate your feelings, the truth was apparent in the way your bodies drew closer together, pulled by an invisible force that seemed to strengthen with each passing day.

Even your friends and family couldn't deny the vibe. They shared knowing glances whenever you and William were in the same room, nudging each other with sly smiles as if to say, "I knew it."

But despite the undeniable chemistry and the encouragement from those around you, something held you back—a silent agreement that neither of you dared to break. Maybe it was the fear of messing up a good thing, or perhaps it was the uncertainty of what lay beyond the boundaries of your friendship. Mitch had never outright forbidden you from dating his teammates, but there was a lingering sense of loyalty, a feeling that taking things further with William might upset the delicate balance of your relationships.

So, you and William circled around each other, caught in a never-ending game of cat and mouse where the stakes were higher than either of you cared to admit.

Timing, in particular, had never been on your side.

Despite the undeniable connection between you and William, there was one unsurmountable obstacle standing in the way - your boyfriend, Marc, who cast a dark shadow over your life.

At first, Marc seemed like a dream come true. As the true gentleman he was, he showered you with attention, affection, and gifts, making you feel incredibly fortunate. The sex between you was nothing but amazing and intense, dare you say, almost addictive. And his presence in your life gradually expanded, until it felt like he was a permanent fixture in your small studio apartment.

However, as time passed, his once-charming facade began to crack. He became possessive, demanding, and controlling, suffocating you with his actions and leaving scars deeper than any physical wound could. You weren’t allowed to socialise freely with your friends, your work hours were restricted to 9-5, and attending hockey games was only permitted on weekends, if at all.

You attempted to break free from his grip numerous times, but each effort only seemed to tighten the chains that bound you to him. Marc wielded power over you with precision, manipulating your emotions and exploiting your vulnerabilities until you felt unworthy of anything better.

He was a skilled manipulator, a true narcissist who thrived on exerting dominance over you, leaving you feeling powerless and isolated in your suffering.

You weren’t entirely naïve, though. Deep down, you did recognise your own worth. You knew you deserved love, respect, and care. Yet, the fear of Marc's anger, his violent outbursts, and the harsh words he directed at you, kept you ensnared in a cycle of psychological abuse and manipulation.

The thought of what he might do if you tried to break free, of the repercussions that would surely follow if you dared to defy him, was unbearable. So, you remained, trapped in a prison of your own creation, suffocating under the weight of a love that had turned toxic long ago. And as days melted into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to lose hope that you would ever find a way to escape his grasp and reclaim your life.

Yet, even in the darkest moments, amid the suffocating despair, there was a glimmer of hope—a lifeline that you clung to with all your strength. And that lifeline came in the form of William Nylander, the Swedish figure who had always seen beyond the façade you'd constructed around yourself and into the depths of your true self.

He understood the truth, perhaps better than anyone else. Not even Mitch, your own twin, could grasp the extent of your suffering, but William did. He noticed the faint bruises beneath your sleeves, the forced smiles that failed to reach your eyes, and the way you flinched at the slightest unexpected noise. Although Marc had never physically harmed you, his tendency to grab onto you had left marks on your arms.

"Try and leave him, y/n/n – we’re all here for you," William would gently urge you, his voice a comforting salve to your wounded spirit, fully aware that leaving wasn't an easy choice for you to make.

"I-I can't, Willy," you'd sob, tears choking your voice as you sought refuge in his embrace, your heart burdened with the dread of what awaited you at home.

William grasped the complexities of your predicament and proceeded with caution, never pushing you beyond your boundaries but always offering steadfast support.

Through every tear and every outburst, he remained by your side, a guiding light in the darkness threatening to engulf you. His mere presence dispelled the shadows, reminding you that you weren't alone in your struggles. 

Though you struggled to articulate your gratitude, he didn't need to hear the words. His deeds spoke volumes, a silent vow that he would never desert you, no matter how fierce the storm raged around you.

And as days turned into weeks, you found solace in William's companionship, seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace and the security of his apartment nearly every day. With Marc increasingly absent, claiming to be preoccupied with his newfound interest in golf with his co-workers – or so he called her – your time with William became more frequent and precious. You even managed to spend more time at the Ford Performance Center and the Scotiabank Arena along with the rest of the players and friends.

In those moments, surrounded by his laughter and the camaraderie of the team, you experienced a peace that had long eluded you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you could smile without the weight of the world pressing down on you, laugh without fearing retaliation, and simply be yourself without the suffocating presence of your toxic boyfriend looming over you.

It felt liberating. It felt like the right path. And as you snuggled closer to William on his spacious sofa one evening, his reassuring presence soothing your tired soul, you dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for a brighter tomorrow.

-

However, the next night, everything collapsed like a house of cards.

It began like any other disagreement, a petty argument over insignificant matters that somehow escalated into a full-blown confrontation. How it had started was a blur, lost in the fog of anger and frustration that clouded your mind. But as the voices grew louder, so did the intensity of your emotions.

Marc's accusations struck deep, his words piercing your heart like daggers. He blamed you for spending too much time with the Maple Leafs and their partners, alleging that your passion for hockey was abnormal and unhealthy. But you knew the truth. He was simply envious of your brother's success, resentful of the bond you shared with Mitch, and the happiness you derived from supporting him at the arena where you had spent countless years together.

And in that moment, something within you snapped. Years of suppressed frustration and bitterness erupted to the surface, igniting a tempest of emotions that threatened to engulf you both. You couldn't stand by and allow him to diminish the one thing that brought you happiness, the one thing that had been a constant source of comfort and support throughout your life.

With tears streaming down your cheeks and your heart pounding in your chest, you found yourself standing up to him in a way you never thought possible. It was as if you had grown wings, emboldened by his words and fuelled by a newfound sense of defiance. You refused to let him dictate the terms of your life any longer, to control what brought you joy and fulfilment.

In a voice filled with determination, you shouted back at him, each word echoing like a battle cry against the tyranny of his dominance. Though your hands trembled, and your knees threatened to give way, you stood your ground, unwilling to yield in the face of his aggression.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a glimmer of hope kindle within you, a beacon of light in the darkness that had threatened to consume you.

“Why the fuck do you even care, Marc? You're always at work, with your colleagues, or with some other whore you've picked up! You don't even love me; you don't even want to fuck me! Why can't you just leave me alone? I don't want you in my life! You're not some gift from God to the wor-"

And then it happened. Like a bolt of lightning, as the words poured from your lips, fuelled by years of pent-up frustration and resentment, Marc silenced you with a swift, forceful slap across your cheek.

The sting was sharp, cutting through your skin like a hot iron. Your hand instinctively rose to cradle the tender flesh, the red mark a painful testament to the violence just inflicted upon you. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your eyes swollen and puffy as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

The room descended into silence, as the only sound was the distant hum of the city beyond. You stood frozen, unable to move as shock and fear gripped you in their icy hold. Your mind screamed at you to flee, to escape the danger lurking in his gaze, but your body remained rooted to the spot.

Then, you noticed it—the spark of something sinister igniting in his eyes, a predatory glint that sent a chill down your spine. And suddenly instinct took over, adrenaline flooding your veins as your heart raced in your chest. Without hesitation, you turned and ran.

The fight-or-flight response kicked in, and in that moment, flight was your only recourse. Your feet pounded against the pavement, carrying you forward with a speed you didn't know you possessed. You had to get away, to break free from the toxic and perilous situation that had ensnared you for too long.

And as you vanished into the night, seeking refuge from the tempest raging both inside and out, you knew there was only one place you could go: to William's.

You knew you must have looked a sight: eyes swollen and puffy, tears still tracing down one cheek, the other flushed red from Marc's blow. Rain had soaked your hair, leaving it a tangled mess against your face, while your sweater clung damply to your body. Even your homey sandals couldn't escape the rain, their socks sodden from your frantic escape.

The train journey dragged on, each stop feeling like an eternity. Anxiety gripped you tighter with every passing moment, your mind overrun with a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. You couldn't help but keep checking over your shoulder, heart pounding with the dread of Marc following you.

And upon arriving at your destination, you wasted no time, hastening towards the familiar safety of William's apartment building. Fortunately, the guard recognised you despite your dishevelled state, offering a sympathetic smile as he opened the door, though you were too consumed by your turmoil to acknowledge his kindness.

Breathless and trembling, you rode the lift to the upper floor, each second feeling like an eternity as your heart continued to race in your chest. The journey blurred by, your mind struggling to process the night's events and the enormity of what had just occurred.

And finally, you stood before William's door, your hand hesitating for a moment before instinct propelled you to knock softly against the wood. As you waited for him to answer, a single plea echoed in your mind: please, let him be home.

"Y/n? Shit, what's happened?" William's voice was filled with concern as he swung the door open, taking in your dishevelled appearance. "Fuck, come in."

But you were frozen, your body unable to respond as the realisation dawned that you might finally be safe, yet still unable to shake off the shock.

And William sensed the gravity of the situation, approaching you with cautious steps, mindful not to startle you further. He stood calmly, giving you the space, you needed to ease out of the grip of the adrenaline rush.

Words caught in your throat, the weight of the ordeal bearing down on you heavily. You wanted to explain, to recount the nightmare that had unfolded, but fear and uncertainty barricaded your words. Yet, as you stood there, trembling and teetering on the edge of collapse, William's reassuring presence began to seep into your core, offering the comfort you so desperately needed.

"It's... Marc," you managed to choke out, tears once again streaming down your cheeks. "He— he hurt me..."

The words hung in the air, the truth settling heavily between you like a dark cloud. In that moment, William's expression transformed, a mix of anger and concern contorting his features.

"What?" he exclaimed sharply, his eyes flashing with fury. "He hit you?"

"Yes... I'm... I'm sorry... I didn't know... where else to go..." you whispered.

William felt a fire ignite within him at the revelation, a fierce protectiveness washing over him as he fought the urge to seek retribution against the man who had dared to lay a hand on you. But he knew that now wasn't the time for vengeance. Now was the time to comfort you, to ensure your safety and well-being above all else.

So, with gentle motions, he wrapped an arm around you and slowly guided you into his condo, his presence a comforting shield against the turmoil. Seating you on the sofa, he enveloped you in his embrace, his touch offering solace amidst the chaos.

Though familiar with such scenarios, tonight felt weightier than usual. Your boyfriend's actions had crossed a line, and it was time for decisive action. William simply couldn't bear seeing you in such distress any longer. You, whom he loved so deeply, deserved nothing but happiness. And he was determined to see that you received it.

And with every passing second, his soft whispered reassurances began to ease the tension, as he draped a blanket over your shoulders, and you felt a warmth spreading through you.

However, as you sat there, enveloped in the comforting silence, guilt gnawed at your insides like a relentless beast.

"I'm so sorry, Willy... I-I didn't mean to ruin your evening," you spoke softly, regret tingeing your voice.

"Hey, you're not ruining anything," William replied, his tone tender and reassuring, yet you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"Yes, I am... I'm always just intruding on your life with all my problems," you sighed heavily, the weight of your burdens pressing down on you. "You should just leave me alone, Willy... I'm just 50 shades of fucked up..."

"No, I'm not leaving you like this," William interjected firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

"Please, I don't want to be a burden to you anymore..." you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation, a bit louder this time.

"Then what do you want?" William asked, his gaze unwavering as he searched your face for answers.

"I-I don't know..." you admitted, feeling lost and uncertain amidst your turmoil.

"Come on, y/n, just tell me what you want," William urged, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

And then, in a moment of raw vulnerability, the words spilled from your lips without hesitation.

"I want you," you confessed, your voice stronger than a whisper, finally meeting his gaze.

"You have me... You've always had," William replied softly, meeting your eyes with unwavering sincerity.

"No, I want to be with you, Willy..."

In that moment, as your eyes locked, a wave of comfort washed over you, a sense of peace settling over your troubled soul like a gentle caress.

You had finally vocalised what you'd been longing to say for so long, the ties with your boyfriend holding you back now severed. But now, you were free. And your first act of freedom was to express to William how deeply you desired him.

"I'm sorry... I just... I know I've been nothing but a burden to you all these years," you confessed, attempting a half-smile. "But... I've always... I've always been in love with you... I guess I've just never... been able to say it... out loud."

It was a tremendous relief, and you felt the weight lift from your shoulders. And as much as joy stirred within you, William too released a sigh he'd been holding onto for years.

"I'm in love with you too, y/n... I always have been," he revealed, flashing you a tender smile, before he gently leaned his forehead against yours, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. "I love you so much, and all I want is for you to be happy."

Drawing back slightly, you locked eyes with his deep ocean blue gaze. "You make me happy, Willy... You always have," you exhaled softly. And with the floodgates open, you couldn't contain the emotions any longer. "You've always been there for me... and I can't put into words how much it's meant... you're my soulmate..."

William offered you a wider smile, his lips drawing closer to yours. "And you're mine..."

It was the moment you'd yearned for, and now, after an evening filled with thunder and heartache, the universe had healed the wounds and guided you to where you truly belonged: with William Nylander. And as your lips met in a tender kiss, sharing the warmth of your breath, you knew without a doubt that you had finally come home.

#my asks #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

[quinnylouhughesx43]

Peter

based off of Taylor Swift’s song from The Tortured Poets Department

warning: a bit sad, longing for ex-lover, use of y/n

Ethan Edwards x fem!Reader

summary: Ethan and reader childhood friends —> lovers —> break up —> reader heartbreakingly waiting for his return.

author’s note: the photos are intended to tell the story them growing up. the last last picture are two quotes from the book “better than the movies” by Lynn Painter. (can be found on Amazon, books a million, barnes & noble, etc. links were too long to post)

Ethan and (y/n)’s older childhood friends always joked the two would fall in love one day. It was always a big laugh between the two of you because what business do 8 year olds have thinking about love?

In a blink of an eye you’re dancing at your end of the year eighth grade formal together, your heart has never reacted the way it was at that specific moment. Confused and a bit scared you kept your head staring at the floor while your hands were firmly placed on Ethan’s shoulders. His hands placed awkwardly on your waist. He cleared throat and paused both of your movements. “Hey (y/n)? Can I do something and you promise you not get mad if you don’t like it? We can just forget about it after if it’s weird.” His words were rushed and hands shaking. Your eyes connected with his, a slight nod yes to confirm you were okay with whatever it was he was asking for. As if the world moved in slow motion and no one else was in the school’s lobby, where the formal was happening but the two of you, Ethan ducked his head down just the few inches he needed to in order to give a quick kiss.

The first kiss for both of you.

Awkward, yet not weird for either of you. The beginning of what turned into a long beautiful journey. Until it wasn’t beautiful.

꧁꧂

“(Y/N) I am so tired of this repetitive argument. It happens over and over. I got accepted to Michigan and I got a scholarship for hockey. Their program is notorious for building up their athletes and getting them drafted. Drafted! You’ve known since we were kids that the NHL is what I wanted for myself.” Ethan tried to keep himself composed until he couldn’t. His desire, compassion, and dedication to chasing his dream often overshadowed his love and dedication to you. His childish mannerisms peaking through. “I just want to know where I fit into this plan? This future of yours.” You tried to keep your voice strong and unwavering but just like each time before the lump in your throat prevented you from even being able to breathe properly.

He sat down on the edge of your bed. Quiet minutes passed before he finally spoke again. “Maybe there isn’t an us in the future..” His words are so quiet you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly. “E?” You whimpered. Tears streaming one after the other. He didn’t look at you right away. Knowing if he did his resolve would shatter.

Taking a deep breath, starting over. Looking at you after a couple minutes had passed by and leaning over to wipe your cheeks dry. “I know this is going to be hard to hear. It’s killing me to even say it. It killed me to even think about it recently. I’m going to be gone for a long time for school. I won’t be returning home. My parents will be coming there over the holidays. It will be easier with training. I can’t ask you to sit here while you’re going to school yourself and be tied to me. Especially when we will never see each other. Neither of us have the money for traveling to and from. I’ve been so physically sick thinking about leaving you. We’ve only argued since I decided but honey this is what’s best for me and my dreams. I’m sorry I’m being so selfish but I can’t pass this up. If I stay here I take a chance at never having an opportunity at the NHL at least I know I’ll have an opportunity there.” Your tears stopped at some point. Sadness turned to numbness. Lost to the words he was saying.

“(Y/N/N). I can go and grow up while I’m gone. Get drafted. Or not. Then I’ll come find you if you’re still single. . We can live our dreams then. I just can’t ask you to sit here and be miserably alone.” Pressing a quick kiss to your forehead he left your house. That was the last thing he said to you in person. You didn’t see him again before he left. He tried but you declined. Not wanting to hurt anymore than you already were.

꧁꧂

You just watched Ethan’s NHL debut with the New Jersey Devil two weeks ago. Pride swelled in your heart for him but heartbreak also overtook you. He never came back for you. You’re both 24 now, he could’ve come back after college since he was drafted pre-degree but he never did. Since ‘goodbye for now’ turned into ‘goodbye’ you sat down at your desk and started writing him a letter. You were going to mail it to his mom’s house. She can mail it to him.

Dear Ethan,

I hoped you'd return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned because love is never lost when perspective is earned and you said you would come and get me, but we were only 17. My shelf life on the fantasies has expired. Please forgive me, Ethan, I really tried to hold on to the days you were mine. But the young girl turned into a woman who sits by her window has turned out the light.

You said you were going to grow up and you were going to come find me. Promises that were oceans deep, but never to keep.

Sincerely,

(Y/N)

Little did you know he was back in town at his parents’ house and received the letter himself. He was there to see you. He was back for you now that he was settled and could care for you both properly. But he was too late. You had shut the door on him. You stopped supporting him quietly. Stopped following the scores of the games and watching. . Ethan played the rest of the season terribly, not having his number fan, supporter there. It didn’t matter if he knew or not that she was always cheering him on. It just solidified for him, he no longer had his rock. His reason for being. That he fucked up all those years ago. That he no longer had a reason for what he thought was his dream. His dream was really your dreams. He wanted the future you wanted with him and now he will never have it all because of his selfishness back at 17.

#ethan edwards #umich hockey #umich fic #umich imagine #y/n #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x y/n #Ethan Edwards fic #Ethan Edwards blurb #hockey fic #hockey blurb #cay writes #cays masterlist #nhl #new writers on tumblr #new jersey devils #nj devils #nj devils fic #hockey

[thurio-edau]

SBG GANG MENTAL ANALYSIS

sorry for the delay!

alright, gotta say... this one's a bit shorter. but the next will come like a train wreck i promise😇

Part 3: Ben Clark

oh the sweet old Ben... a kind and loving soul muted away. I'm thinking of inspecting his trauma and his general actions, and give him a diagnosis which I'm sure is canon even. I'm sure everyone who knows the disorder itself is aware that Ben is, in fact, suffering from PTSD.

let's start. first, what is PTSD?

PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, is a mental condition where someone feels what they have previously went through in a past traumatic experience. PTSD is frequently found with flashbacks to the moment, overwhelming feelings and sudden responses. there are two types of this disorder, PTSD and C-PTSD. but we'll look in the first one for now.

Ben has always been a really kind character. ever since the beginning. more of a 'gentle giant' type of character, though we never see him talk. he's soft, he loves to help his friends and never does anything vulgar around them, including the phantom dimension. he feels nice when he gets praised even if he doesn't show it too.

the first time we see him getting flashbacks and his anger issues being visible is when we first see Barron's behaviour towards Logan. anything that includes actual bullying gives him flashbacks and his response is his anger issues unleashing.

in his backstory, Ben is shown that he's more of a shy type of person, but he loves singing. because his tall and intimidating appereance doesn't match his softness, a group of dumbasses try to 'fix' him which he rejects. back when Shane strangled him, is what he gets flashbacks to. it was something that changed his entire life, he had a passion for singing but he never did with his damaged voice. god knows how many times he was hospitalized when he was going around to fights because of his outburst of rage.

yep, rage. I'd classify his anger issues as the 'rage' type with PTSD. PTSD rage makes more sense to me than just normal anger problems. I've seen and lived with many people with anger issues, but none of them are similar to rage. anger problems in general are usually verbal, if you don't make them mad to a point they're all bark and no bite. but of course after a point the violence behind the generic anger issues can unleash (see Tyler)

okay, back to Ben and rage. rage is an extreme condition of anger, the person gets violent and their thoughts are clouded with the rage which makes them not think before doing anything drastic. but he's not very closed off about it either, actually. the time where he accepted Aiden to do the storytelling was before the first half of season one, the gang wasn't even that close.

this means that he saw them as actual friends so early on. probably before everyone. Ashlyn took her sweet time accepting the friendship, I'm kind of sure that Aiden didn't at first (see Tyler, yet again), Tyler also definitely didn't (as said by Taylor in season two premiere) and I think Logan has attachment/trust issues but that's for later. the only other possible person that might accept the group fastly is Taylor but with Tyler's influence so close to her, there is also a chance she didn't at first.

Ben was fine with his friends knowing his past. he put his earphones on because he didn't want to hear about it, or else he knew he'd get flashbacks yet again. I'm thinking that it could be diagnosed too. Aiden knows that it's not just a memory, it's flashbacks to Ben and he covers for him whenever he sees something that might trigger Ben. after learning the situation, Taylor also does the same. they learn the severity of his problems and are all fine with helping him.

another thing I'm sure of is that he's extremely attached to his friends. we know that everyone is close-knit, but Ben specifically. he might not speak but that doesn't mean that he doesn't enjoy their time. he does, fully. which is I think why he/his room was... like that in the facility, without any spoilers.

to say, the gang is more than just friends to him; they're his found family, where he feels like he belongs. they don't judge him for his silence there. they understand his past. they're not scared of him just because of the way he was built and they're not going to be either.

but what about his family?

families are one of the most important part of a character and their backstory. the family is what decides how they will live, act and even feel sometimes. then what about Ben's? where were they during his backstory?

yeah. Ben's rage causes something terrible to happen.

but it ends better for everyone. Ben gets the therapy he needed, starts to live with Aiden, makes the gang his friends and it actually goes well.

his parents?

we meet Naomi and William during Lily's birthday.

yes, Mike, Lily is goshdarn adorable.

first, I think Naomi and William aren't to blame. I think they did the best they could; they tried to help Ben, tried to help him get therapy, sent him to Aiden's place to help himself. then why didn't Ben's story stop?

Ben couldn't control his rage until their house got destroyed and he realized just how far it got. he sneaked out of the house, a lot of people seem to not see that detail. and they seem to be very caring, too.

they're amazing as a whole family, to be honest. even the little Lily doesn't care about her birthday getting wrecked, because she wants to help Ben and his friends. she indirectly helped Tyler extremely well, since the sedative idea came from her in the first place.

Naomi was the first person who brought up the whole 'we-are-seeing-phantoms' discussion and William didn't hesitate to talk about it. Naomi was also the first person to notice the phantoms when the worlds collided for a mere second.

and Ben himself has shown completely zero negative behaviour towards them. and Lily gets treated like a princess -even if she accidentally neutered Ben-

side note here, that Lily also really loves the family too. the way she cuddled Aiden when he died and came back was so cute to be honest.

so I don't think the family is anywhere to blame either. it was Ben who was strangled, Ben who fought, and Ben who saw therapy. the reason why I'm talking about this is because a lot of people suddenly blame a character's family when there's a problem with them.

guys. people with caring, loving families can be traumatized too. just because someone has a happy family doesn't mean they're suddenly over any trauma they live. doesn't mean everything is suddenly okay. it means that they have an accepting place to go to, a safe space. and Ben's family? I think they're just like that. they desperately try to help. help their son, their nephew and their friends. hell, Lily trying to help also speaks volumes in my opinion. their father -dilf no.2 after Mike right here- William was the one who offered the idea to get the kids saved from the centipede phantom. and to be honest? it was pretty smart.

she also tried to prevent Emma from going mad because come on, Emma would absolutely wreck anyone if they dared blame Ashlyn for this. (still I think Jessica has to apologize for being to insensitive smh)

Naomi really seems like a sweetheart to me, I already said what to be said about William in a single very important side sentence and if there was any kind of in-family neglect Lily would also be affected. but she isn't so I think we're good? I adore the whole Ben family tho.

to wrap it all up.

Ben is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which makes him see flashbacks and turn into a rage mode each time he is triggered due to his backstory, being bullied because he's too soft. his rage causes a gang to destroy his home (HELLO?? ARE THERE NO FUNCTIONING COPS IN THIS STOR-- oh wait it's america yea there ain't nvm) and his parents try their best. move, get Ben to therapy and let Daniel's side help him by doing stuff he loves. Ben is still trying to recover, but his flashbacks are strong due to impacting his entire life from his voice and make it difficult.

(vocal chords repair by time actually, but he hasn't been speaking for like 4 years so maybe it'd need some voice exercises until it returns to normal?? if it's just vocal chords he'd be alright. imagine if he could talk and sing normally all this time but he just didn't know. it's something between "aww poor guy :((" and "lmao"

but I don't know about voice box, can someone enlighten me on vocal chord damage vs. voice box damage? thamks)

and Lily. Lily is a cinnamon roll. no other opinions allowed.

-i wanted to make a part for Ben and Taylor but i decided wasn't fit here :P-

#sbgblr #sbg (webtoon) #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #schoolbus graveyard #sbg #sbg ben #ben clark

[an0ther1]

Two Is Always Better Than One pt.2

Leah x Alessia

A/N: This is the “2nd” chapter of a 3 part short series I have on AO3. Thanks for all the dog name suggestions.

“LEE! LEAH! Swear I need to put a tracking device on you in this house.” Leah could hear from down the hall.

“In the study, love.” Leah was setting up their football photos throughout the room. They had been in the house for 3 weeks now. They had some custom built-ins made for the study and painted a few rooms before all their furniture and personal items were moved in. They still had a few things to unpack.

“That Martha woman got back to me!” Alessia started before she crossed the threshold. When she entered the room and saw the confusion on Leah’s face she continued. “The lady with the foster puppies the shelter told us about. Remember, the shelter we went to on Tuesday told us about those puppies that had been found by the pond in London Colney, they nicknamed them the Gooners.”

“OH YEAH!”

“Want to go meet them?”

“Right now?” Leah was still on the step ladder trying to hang an enlarged print of Alessia’s back heel goal against Sweden.

“YES! Before someone else takes the puppy that is meant to be with us!” Alessia smacked her hands against her thighs like a child that was utterly frustrated with having to explain themselves. However this was the first time they had talked about this litter of foster puppies aside from the initial mention of them at the shelter. “You promised me I could have a dog.” Alessia whined.

Leah finally got the picture on the hook in the wall and straightened before descending the small ladder. “Of course we can go see them.”

“YEAH?”

“Yes beautiful” Leah walked over and dropped a kiss to the top of Alessia’s head. “Let me just change my shirt.”

Alessia squealed. “I’ll get the keys and meet you in the car!” Then she was off down the hall, leaving Leah just standing there.

“Never again.” Leah muttered to herself.

15 minutes later they were in a village a stones throw from the training center. “These puppies are Gooners born and raised. One of them is definitely ours!” Alessia bounced in the passenger seat as Leah pulled the car over in front of a small white cottage. She had the door open before Leah even got the engine shut off. The defender could only laugh at her girlfriend's excitement. Alessia at least waited for Leah to catch up before she knocked on the door.

A few puppies could be heard yapping behind the door as well as a woman trying to calm them down. “Saka, get off of Declan. Leah! No, stop pushing Kai around. Little, get a handle on your team.”

Leah and Alessia just looked at each other. The door opened a moment later to reveal an older woman with dark hair that was graying around her face. She had her head turned back towards the dogs in the house when she first greeted the couple. “Hello, sorry for all the yapping. But trying to control 10 pups is-” She stopped mid sentence when she finally turned to face the blondes. “Bloody hell, you’re Alessia Russo and Leah Williamson.”

“That’s us!” Alessia said cherrily. “I emailed you about meeting the foster pups.”

“Really?”

Alessia glanced over at Leah for a moment. “Ah, yeah. I mean, are you Martha?”

“I am.”

“Then I do believe you were the one I was emailing with.”

“Oh. Yes, yes. Sorry. I just. You’re Alessia Russo.” The women then turned to Leah. “And your-” The woman shook her head. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that you two are standing at my door. And clearly my manners have completely left me. Come in. Please.” The woman stood back in the entryway to allow the footballers in. “I have 2 real life Gunners here to meet my Gooners.”

Leah laughed. “It would seem that way. And thank you for letting us come meet them.”

“Oh yes, of course. So, umm.” The woman pointed towards a couch in the living room. “Please have a seat there, or on the floor if you like. So yeah, I’m Martha.”

“Hello Martha. So did you say you have 10 puppies right now?” Leah asked.

“Yes. There are the 6 Gooners that were found near the pond. And then I have 4 others from a pregnant foster I took in. They were born about a week before I took the pups. Since no mother was found with the Gooners, Emilia stepped up and took the 6 in with her own. She’s in the garden right now having a bit of a break.” Martha smiled.

“I thought I heard you say a few names as you came to the door?” Alessia lowered herself onto the floor in front of the couch, which got the attention of several puppies who came bounding over to inspect the new person.

“Oh yes.” Martha chuckled. “All of the pups are named after players. So that one there is Kaka, and that’s Kai. The blonde one is Leah.”

Alessia scooped that one up first. “Well don’t you have the perfect name, pretty girl.” She cooed.

“The one with the long skinny legs is Stina. The dark one is Declan. And then,” Martha looked around the room and continued pointing and naming pups as she saw them. “There is Frida, Foxy, and Victoria.”

“I thought I heard you say Little, and that’s only 8.” Leah pointed out just as there was a crashing sound from somewhere in the house.

The older woman huffed. “That would be McCabe. And I’m sure Little is right behind her trying to get her to stop whatever mischief she has gotten herself into. I’ll be right back.” She headed out of the room.

“She can’t be serious.” Leah said quietly.

“Oh I can’t wait to tell the girls about this.” Alessia said as she rubbed the bellies of 2 of the pups.

A moment later Martha returned with a dog under each arm. A black one who was squirming in an attempt to escape, and a caramel colored one who seemed satisfied the other one had been captured. “These two, are Little and McCabe.”

“Do we need to ask which is which?” Leah chuckled.

“Your guess will be correct, I promise you.” The woman laughed as she set them both down.

McCabe shook like she had just gotten out of a bath before realizing there was someone new sitting on the floor and taking off like a tiny rocket. She barrelled through 2 other puppies before slamming into Alessia at full speed. “You are true to the namesake I see.” Alessia said as she picked the puppy up.

Little sat in the middle of the room for a moment, watching and observing all the other dogs before she seemed to decide everyone was where they should be and wandering over to Leah. She sniffed the defender's outstretched hand before sitting up on her hind legs to be picked up. “Well aren’t you a well mannered little thing.”

“She is definitely the responsible one of the bunch. We think she was the one that kept all the puppies together at the pond as she always seems to be rounding them up and checking on everyone. And then that one.” Martha pointed at McCabe. “Well her and Little are now connected at the hip because she’s always getting into something and Little is always trying to pull her back. Which is funny because McCabe is not one of the 6 Gooners.”

“Yeah, McCabe seems a bit bigger. But she’s younger, yeah?” Alessia asked.

“That’s correct. But, Little is her keeper. So much so that I’m hopeful they’ll find a home together.”

“Awe, aren’t you a sweet one.” Leah had Little on her back in her lap rubbing her chest. “Any idea what they are? Like breeds? They’re all kind of small”

“Well Emilia is part Dachshund. But she is mixed with something a bit heftier too, like a corgi maybe. And then I would guess the Gooners are Dachshund as well, but mixed with something smaller like another terrier. They have rounder snouts too.”

McCabe started getting feisty in Alessia’s lap and immediately Little rolled over from her relaxed position in Leah’s lap and jumped to the floor. She snipped lightly at McCabe’s ear causing the black pup to stop immediately.

“See. Little runs things.”

Alessia was giggling as she picked up McCabe close to her face. “At least you listen to your captain.” The puppy began squireming wildly until the footballer set her down, before taking off across the room full speed, Little hot on her heels. “Those two are adorable.” Alessia began calling over the other puppies who were happy to gain the blonde's attention.

Without a puppy in her own lap Leah pulled out her phone and began taking photos of her girlfriend with several of the pups in her lap, a bright smile on her face. She took several more photos over the next 20 minutes while Alessia rolled around on the floor with the dogs. Every so often you could hear a small bark from across the room and then McCabe would wander back to the middle of the room under Little’s watchful eye. And each time Little seemed satisfied that McCabe was going to stay with the group, the caramel colored pup sat itself at Leah’s feet.

“Kindred spirits it would seem.” Alessia said after the 3rd time.

Leah leaned down and rubbed the dog's ear, causing Little to slump over into her leg. “So it would seem.” She smiled softly.

Slowly one by one the puppies started to lose momentum and began curling up together throughout the room. Little was still settled next to Leah’s feet when McCabe came over and nudged the other dog. When she got no reaction, she crawled up into Alessia’s lap just above Little and plopped down.

Martha smiled at the footballers. “Looks like they’ve taken a liking to you.”

Alessia leaned her head back against the couch looking up at Leah. The look in her eye told Leah everything the younger woman was thinking before she even said anything. “You know, two is always better than one.”

“Is that so?” Leah smirked.

“One is so lonely.” Alessia pouted.

“I spend enough time yelling at McCabe as is.” Leah paused. “We are not keeping that name.”

“REALLY?!” Alessia squealed, waking several of the puppies. All except McCabe it seemed. “Martha, if we wanted to make these 2 ours?” She turned to the older woman.

“I would expect regular Instagram uploads to see how they are doing.” The woman smiled. “This is a private foster situation, so there really isn’t any paperwork or anything to be done if that’s what you’re asking. There are just some questions I like to ask.”

“Fire away!” Alessia hugged a sleeping McCabe to her chest.

“Do you have a fenced yard?”

“Yup! A big one! With lots of things to explore.” Alessia answered.

“Do you have a vet lined up?”

“Beth and Viv said they would give us the information for their vet. Said they highly recommend them. Especially for puppies.” Alessia played with the still sleeping dogs' ears.

“Wonderful. You two do travel. Do you have care lined up for when you are away?”

“We have several people willing to stay at the house with them.” Leah answered.

Martha took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well then. After seeing the four of you together, if you would like to take those babies home with you, I think you would be a great fit for them.”

Alessia spun around on the floor with McCabe in her arms, bright blue eyes looking at Leah. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leah bent down and picked up the sleeping puppy at her feet. Little only opened her eyes slightly, clearly not caring about being handled. “You want to come with us and keep an eye on that little bugga for good? Hmm?”

Martha stood up. “Well then, let me get their things. They each have a toy and blanket. I’ll also give you a bag of the kibble they currently eat. You can keep them on the same brand or change it. You’ll just want to mix this one with whatever you get to help ease their body into the change. And then I have quick info care sheet.” The woman exited the room.

“Are we really taking them home Lee?”

“Yeah Lessi.”

Alessia rose up from the floor to sit on the couch next to Leah. “Thank you, Leah.” She kissed the other blonde softly. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Leah smiled as she leaned in for another kiss. “I did promise we would get a dog when we had a home with a garden, and I keep my promises.”

“That you do.”

“Alright. Here we are.” Martha reentered the room. “These belong to Little.” She held up a gray blanket and stuffed rabbit. “And these belong to McCabe.” She held up a red blanket and. . .

“Is that a shin pad?” Leah asked with a twisted face.

“It is. I honestly have no idea where it came from. Might be an old thing that belonged to one of my boys that she pulled from a closet.” She shrugged. “But as you can see from the teeth marks, she loves it.”

“She is going to need a new name before we introduce her to any of the girls.” Leah shook her head.

“Do we? It just seems to fit so well.” Alessia whined.

Leah leveled her with a glare.

“Fine.” Alessia rolled her eyes. “Martha, do you take donations or anything to help take care of these little ones or other fosters.”

“I personally don’t. I’m fortunate enough to be able to have a few fosters at once and manage. But if you would like, please donate to the shelter that sent you my way. They’re the ones that need the most help.”

“I will do that then.” Alessia smiled. “Alright McCabe. Are you ready to go see your new home? How about you, Little?” She scratched behind the ear of the pup in Leah’s lap before standing up with McCabe in her arms. Leah followed suit with Little in her arms.

Martha handed the items for each puppy to the footballer that was holding them. She leaned in and placed a kiss on top of each dog's head. “You behave.” She said to McCabe. “And keep her out of trouble.” She said to Little. “Right. I’ll get the door.”

Leah and Alessia followed Martha to the door. “Thank you so much Martha. It was a pleasure meeting you. And we’ll be sure to post plenty of pictures to keep you updated.” Alessia started.

“Yes, thank you very much.” Leah echoed.

“I can’t wait to see the official announcement with the names you pick.” Martha opened the door. “It was lovely meeting you both. Take care.” She remained on the porch and waved as the couple drove away.

On the way home, they made a stop at the pet shop for essential supplies. Mostly. They got a playpen to help contain the pups in the kitchen, or outside until they were a bit bigger, pee pads, puppy training treats, collars, harnesses and leads, and half the toy aisle. Alessia wanted to let the dogs have anything they picked. So every single toy that McCabe picked up and thrashed about went into the trolly. Little had picked up a single toy and carried it throughout the entire shop and car park as she sat in the trolly.

“We should have got that carrier that holds the dog to your chest like a baby.” Leah said as she held tightly to a wiggling puppy. “McCabe, seriously.”

“Here.” Alessia grabbed one of the toys they had purchased and handed it to Leah, which was swiftly snatched by the black pup who began thrashing in the defender's arms. “Calm down Stitch.”

Leah stopped walking. Alessia stopped the trolly a few steps later, turning back to her girlfriend. “What?” The striker asked over her shoulder.

“McCabe is Stitch. And Little is Lilo.” Leah looked at each pup as she said the names.

Alessia looked between the dogs and Leah. “Oh my gawd, Le! They are!” She scooped the caramel colored puppy out of the trolly. “What do you think Little? Hmm? I think Lilo would be a perfect name for you. And she.” She turned towards Leah and the other pup. “Is definitely Stitch.” Alessia took a few steps to Leah. “Lilo and Stitch, yeah?”

“Lilo and Stitch.”

Alessia gave Leah a quick kiss. “Come on. Let’s get the car loaded.”

The couple continued through the car park and loaded their items into the boot. Each pup still holding on to a toy. When they were settled into their seats, Alessia pulled out her phone. “Hold Stitch for a sec, Le. I want to send a pic to the girls.”

StarGirl23: jpeg.

StarGirl23: Anyone want to come over and meet Lilo and Stitch?

#woso community #woso fanfics #woso soccer #leah williamson #alessia russo #arsenal women #arsenal wfc

[whorediaries-09]

can i use you up?

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s) - angst. a/n- a different take on my style of writing.

little train series masterlist.

sirius wanted nothing more but to punch the wall beside him. his feet were atrociously restless and he felt something within him that he'd never felt before. he was sure his knuckles would turn white with the grip he had on the newspaper.

in a span of a few years, he'd escaped the treacherous hold of his nightmares, been accepted into a place he could happily-safely call home. he'd escaped the prison- the hell hole that bound him down, depriving him of the ever sweet freedom. he had found people he could keep close and call home.

little did he know his home was really only just the town where he'd be arrested.

he didn't know he'd be barricaded to his ghosts, tied together with his pasts and prison. he didn't know he'd been bound by shrieking dementors that'd reminded him of his memories he'd so carefully concealed within the corners of his mind.

and with each passing day, when his trial is put off, he feels his hope blur and the fire of rebellion seeded within the crevices of his heart die.

he feels his last bit of sanity fade.

*-

sirius doesn't get any visitors. he never expected any the moment he'd been thrown away into the cell. so when the dementors rattle down on the cell, he grumbles, turning and tossing onto the stone floor.

'sirius!' moody's loud voice bellows. sirius recognizes it, he's learnt to memorize it and hate it so very well.

'what is it alastor!' he screams back. he fills the rage fill him up again. he likes it when he's left alone - when he's not treated like an animal in a zoo. he feels revolting, it scars him into the very depth of his skin.

'the ministry has decided to look into your case once again.' alastor says. his fake eye moves erratically. sirius has learnt to not let the joy affect him. the dementors don't scare him, no. the memories do. so with lifeless eyes, a true contradiction to the gaze of sirius black, he stares at him.

'i thought the ministry was far too fed with injustice? did their big fat brains come back to senses again? or is today april fool's alastor?' he spits.

'black, mind it. i might change my mind.' he piercingly glares at him. he chooses to stay silent and not give him a reaction upon his statement.

'who's taking on my case?' he asks, silently. he's quietened down. he doesn't want the emotions to overrule his logics.

'i am.' a new voice replies. sirius stares for the source of the voice, suddenly interested.

you appear from the shrouded darkness. staring ahead into his piercing gaze, you stand determined on the floor. as formality you offer him your name. he shakes his head, gazing at your form up and down. you shiver under his cold gaze.

'what interests you in my case, young lady?' he asks. to establish your seriousness, you stare right through his cold gaze.

'the injustice.' you whisper. he stares at you before his face breaks into a mocking smile which turns into a harsh, cruel laughter. his head heats up with rage he's never felt before.

'injustice?' he spits. 'i've to believe suddenly all you have gotten your senses back and you should hold a trial for someone who was arrested without proper evidence?' he waits for you to say something. he notices a shift in your body language as you relax your shoulders and shift your eyes on the ground before staring into his again.

'i don't care if you believe me or not. what i can promise you is that i'll give you your freedom.' you say, so serenely. for a moment, he feels a pang of jealousy at your calm state. but it quickly dissipates when the rage controls him over again.

'is that so? what lovely words! why should i believe that you don't think i'm the killer? what confirmation do i get, young lady?'

'that's a fair point you've got there mr. black. but i believe you because...well there's no way you could've been the cold blooded killer. i can only promise you and give you the surety of my words. if you insist, i can make the unbreakable vow with you.'

'you can't do that,' grunted moody, 'it'll trigger the dementors.'

'fine. if he wants, i can make the vow on the day of the trial.' alastor grunts.

'no.'

'yes,' you emphasize. 'do you want me to make the vow? will you believe me then?' sirius stares at you. he tries to decipher through the curtain of your blank stare.

'yes.' he says, his voice quiet and seemingly calm. within him, however, he breaks. he hears the hurricane with his name on it, coming nearer and nearer. the blood rushes to his ears, and he buries the heat within himself.

so, he does his best to lay to rest all of the feelings that have been in his heart. but in his mind, they sink into a swamp.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders era #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #fanfiction #james & peter & remus & sirius

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS #REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT #NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS #THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS. #ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of #another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY.. #i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her #idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had #when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them. #but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore. #but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think #i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow. #ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that #AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE #I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME #THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE #WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL #in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad #this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks- #-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl- #-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi #gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show #i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!! #anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM

[theswedishpajas]

The man truly can’t take a genuine compliment 🙄

#my art stuff #digital art #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #this is part of a series I like to call “I’m never settling on a singular detailed artstyle” #I have no consistency in drawing realistic people/characters other than my shapy cartoon style #but I truly don’t get enough opportunity to properly shade anything with art in that style-!!! it always looks weird to me-!!!!! #I think some rude lil worm in my brain is wriggling around telling me it’s a futile attempt at still doing realism #cus I’m one of those “gifted” artists that grew up promising his parents he’ll end up among the big names or whatever #constantly training to become better at art but with realism oil paintings as the goal #you know how it is 😔 #I wanna shade my lil funky designs but they never feel good enough to really put energy into or whatever so I compromise with stuff - #- like this where I try to draw characters more accurately while still stylizing them and shading them however I feel like it #which is great and all but I should really learn to give my more relaxed and less perfectionist art a chance #I deserve to enjoy the process and the result without working myself dead #it’s so much easier and rewarding to copy cartoon styles - stylizing realism makes me too anxious of doing it “wrong” #at least cartoon styles give me a goal to reach or a reference to strive towards #man I really should just cut myself some slack altogether #either way - this man is a flustered mess and he’s embarrassed about being called adorable in public or something #being teased in an affectionate way about his sweeter side and stuff #don’t ask why he’s shirtless - anatomy is just a lot more fun for me to draw sometimes #tasteful nudity and all that is extremely gorgeous to me #i need to practice anatomy more cus I just kinda did some shit and went with it this time with a BIT of consideration for muscle structure

[indecisivemuch]

Scandalous

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: The reveal of a scandalous detail about yours and Luke's relationship left you both flustered and everybody else gaping. Inspired by one line from So It Goes - Taylor Swift (fluff, established relationship).

Warning: allusions to sex, but no explicit details.

Word count: 2k

You and Luke have been going out for well over a year now. Yet, he never failed to make you feel like it would be an eternal honeymoon phase: whispers of sweet words about a lifetime’s worth of promises, delicate and sacred touches, looks filling in for unspoken words.

Loving Luke was as easy as having a daily routine - so natural and almost like a grounding thing from the life of a Demigod.

Currently, Luke was training with Percy. You were not too far away either, sparring with Clarisse. Despite the area being occupied by many other Demigods engaging in similar activities, Luke could not help but frequently glance over at you.

Luke has always been mesmerized by the way you combat, which he metaphorically compared to a ballerina. So precise, yet deadly. Every move was with intention and purpose. 

The way sweat glided down the side of your face, your cheeks flushed from fighting, eyes darting with strategy, heavy pants in between dodging and attacking your opponent, the smirk hinted on your face - all of it made Luke’s mind grow flustered. Somehow, he found everything you do attractive.

If he was honest, his mind seemed to be doing nothing lately but think of you, especially when you’re not beside him. The memories he has harvested over your time together only transformed his brain into a cinema, which constantly played montages of you. Every morning, he’d wake up from a dream about you to the sight of you in his arms - that is before he had to sneak out of your cabin back to his. You constantly occupy every cell in his mind, like an uncontainable virus spreading. Yet, for some reason, he was not scared. He welcomed this feeling with his whole arms wide open.

You broke eye contact with Clarisse to look at Luke. Almost instantly, your eyes melted into ones filled with adoration and his own eyes mirrored the same emotions - if not tenfold. 

You were absolutely enamored with how Luke looked at you. Even before dating each other, people have mentioned the eyes he was giving you. But being oblivious, you did not see what they were talking about. However, it all became clear when you started dating. You started noticing how he would look at you like you were a rare artwork he would most likely never see again or a shooting star - a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence kind of thing that left him in awe all the time. He would do it so endearingly as if it would help to absorb every detail of you and imprint them into his memory. His looks have always made you feel loved - like you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if he has not told you this verbally and through actions already. Usually, you’d feel slightly insecure if somebody was staring so intensely at you, but he did it in a way that made you feel like your flaws were created to be loved for. 

However, a gasp escaped your lips as Luke was showered by a wave of the ocean. Everybody else also drew their attention to the head of Hermes’ cabin and the newly claimed Poseidon kid.

When Luke looked back at Percy, he was faced with a sheepish grin.

“I had to get your attention somehow. I tried calling your name like ten times already,” Percy shrugged his shoulder with feigned innocence, but the glint of mischief told Luke that the kid was anything but feeling guilty about soaking him from head to toe. 

“Percy,” Luke groaned as he could feel the fabric of his clothes cling to his body. Percy bashfully chuckled and offered another sheepish look to the counselor who was meant to train him. 

The cool water did offer a temporary fix to the boiling summer heat. But mixing that with sweat, combat, and Luke's long-sleeved shirt underneath was disastrous. The Hermes boy sighed as he slowly took off the bright orange camp shirt. After struggling slightly, he managed to pull the shirt off from over his head. However, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath got pulled up more than slightly from the extra friction between wet fabrics, revealing the majority of his back to Percy and others. 

He did not think much of it until gasps - including yours - could be heard as this happened. Chris even whistled as he and everybody else spotted what Luke did not notice.

“What?” Luke asked as he pulled down his gray shirt and started wringing his camp t-shirt, trying to rid it from being as wet as possible. 

“Damn, did you get mauled by a minotaur or something?” Percy asked. 

Almost immediately, Luke paled at Percy’s words as he realized what the kid was talking about.

Indeed, as Luke’s gray shirt underneath got pulled up, which revealed the majority of his back, this had also put on display the scratches down his back left from nights that he spent with you. Some were evidently old and healing, as seen by how Luke’s skin was patching itself up and matching closer to his skin tone. Others were somewhat freshly red, while a few were like wounds being reopened. To make matters worse, they could spot the occasional crescent shape bruises that were indentations of your nails. 

Considering your guys’ relationship was not a secret, there was no room to deny it if somebody pointed fingers at you. You blushed as people now averted their eyes to you as if this was the most scandalous thing all year. Clarisse and Chris, on the other hand, were both smirking. 

The whole camp knew you were the one who left those scratches there, and you sincerely wish you could dig a hole to hide yourself from all the attention right now.

Luke’s eyes darted to you, and you offered him an awkward smile as your face grew a darker shade of red.

“No, seriously, dude, you gotta get it checked out at the infirmary. How did that even happen?” Percy only continued, somehow actually clueless about the cause of those marks. You could see Annabeth sending Percy a somewhat side-eye from nearby at his words while Grover let out a deep sigh. 

You started approaching the two, hoping you could intervene and save the both of you from this situation.

“Uhm…well,” Luke started, unsure how to even answer the kid or divert the attention elsewhere as his cheeks flushed and ears tinted pink from trying to ignore memories of what you two had done the night before.

The Hermes boy has jokingly sweet-talked you before on how he might walk out shirtless after one of your rendezvous to show off the marks you left on him. Never would you two think that that idea would ever happen like this.

“Yeah, I reckon you should get that checked out,” you decided to say as you reached Luke, settling your hand on Luke’s lower back and greeting Percy. “Thank you for worrying about him.”

“Yeah, no problem. I mean, it must have been quite a minotaur to land that much of a number on him,” Percy somehow carried on and was utterly oblivious to Clarisse and Chris, who almost bursted out laughing at his latest comment. You, on the other hand, squinted your eyes at the kid. You turned to Luke and you could see it in his eyes that the boy was on the verge of laughing as well. You were sure he would have done so if it were not for your glare.

“Well, we best go heal those wounds now, right Luke?” you gave your boyfriend a look, hoping he would get the message to play along.

“Right,” he agreed almost instantly. 

“Alright, bye, Percy,” you hastily spoke, before dragging Luke by his hand away from everybody's eyes.

“Bye guys,” you could hear the kid’s voice as the both of you retreated. It felt like a walk of shame as the semi-crowd parted ways for you two to leave the scene. You immediately let out a deep breath as soon as nobody was near anymore.

“Gods, that was so embarrassing. The kid basically repeatedly called me a minotaur.”

“I mean…you can be my minotaur?” Luke cheekily jested, trying to tease you a bit more over the situation.

“Oh, no, no, no, we’re not making that a thing. No, absolutely not are you ever gonna make that a nickname,” Luke only laughed at your reaction before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug. As he did so, you wrapped both your arms around his waist, face colliding with his chest the way it would usually do when you guys cuddle. He gave you a few peppered kisses on your forehead, close to your hairline. 

“They’re never gonna let us live that down, will they?” You asked after letting out a muffled groan against his chest.

“Nope,” Luke admitted. Despite the Hermes boy usually easing away your worries, even he knew this would be the talk around camp for a while. Nevertheless, he unwrapped his arms around you and cupped your face with both hands. Using his callus-filled hands, yet gentle touch, he soothed your furrowed eyebrows by rubbing over them to urge you from scowling.

“But…you know what? I’m kind of glad this happened. Sure, it might be awkward and a tad bit embarrassing. But now, they finally get to see how lucky I am to have been given a chance by such a gorgeous and sweet Demigod. And…” he paused, giving you a quick kiss. “This way, any guy potentially still after you know to keep their hands off.” He cheekily winked at you after saying so. 

Gods, you remember how jealous Luke would get before you were together. It was lowkey hot to see him so riled up. Though, after the both of you got together, you have always reassured him that you had eyes on him and only him. 

“I guess that also means any girls still thinking they could steal you from me would know they have no chance?” you questioned, smiling ear to ear when he nodded eagerly at your words.

“Exactly. That’s a win-win in my book. I’m not embarrassed they saw what you left on me. They could talk for all I care. So stop worrying, or else you’ll start getting wrinkles,” he lightly flicked the area between your furrowed eyebrows. As you were about to complain, he quickly kissed you right where he previously flicked you, and that immediately melted away any bit of feigned irritation you had with him. He chuckled at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows untangling itself.

“Thank you,” you muttered, showing your gratitude towards Luke. 

If Luke had a superpower, it would probably be calming you down. He has always managed to tame your emotions whenever they were drowning you. He was like an anchor to you, always grounded you during chaotic times. Sometimes, you wonder how you got so lucky. 

You peered up at him sweetly, and the look alone made him lean down to capture your lips with his again. You chuckled at his action and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was leaving on your lips. Your hands started playing with the hair close to the nape of his neck. He let out a content sigh while still showing your lips just how much he loved them and you. However, he abruptly pulled away before dropping a question. 

“Are we really going to the infirmary?” Luke hesitantly asked, bringing up your words from earlier. He watched as you gave him an amused look.

“What did you think?” As soon as his eyes met yours, he knew exactly what you wanted. He gave you a sheepish grin before the two of you quietly giggled to each other before walking further away from the training grounds.

Let's just say you two did not follow through with your words of going to the infirmary, and neither were you tending to his “wounds”.

——————————

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[assassinsblade]

Arrows and Ashes

You and Cassian are ambushed when trying to meet with Eris in the Autumn Court. When an interrogation ensues that leaves you permanently scarred, how will Azriel react?

WC: 4.7k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff.

Part 2

—————————————

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was damp. From the cold, wet floor to the musty air and your blood-soaked skin.

How long had you and Cassian been here? How long had it been since Autumn soldiers had ambushed you in the woods of the Autumn Court, shooting arrows directing into the war general?

It couldn't have been more than a day. You didn't even think it was night time yet. But it felt like it had been an eternity.

From the interrogations to watching Cassian writhe around in pain due to the faebane arrows protruding from his wings... time continuously ticked slower.

You ached. Your entire body cold with sweat despite your lack of clothing. Dirt and blood coated your skin, and you tried to ignore how uncomfortable it felt against your normally soft flesh. You couldn’t though. You couldn’t ignore the situation you were in. Not when it only seemed to be getting worse, and you had no escape in sight.

You might not make it out of here.

You had left that morning expecting to return home quickly. You had left with a plan to meet Eris Vanserra and return to the House of Wind for a bath, to read a book, to have a nice dinner with friends, and maybe even get to spend time with your mate.

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost picture him bursting through the cell door, blue siphons ablaze with power and face molded into an expression of beautiful fury.

But he wasn't here. And you might never see him again.

"Cassian..."

"Don't." He demanded. His voice was cracking with weakness, but he tried to sound resolute. "Rhys is coming."

He didn’t sound convinced, and you could tell that he was worried you were running out of time too. It might not have been long enough for Rhys and the others to be concerned, but it was long enough for the Autumn Court to inflict permanent damage.

You let out a shaky breath, grief already swimming in your chest. Grief for what could have been with you and Azriel if you hadn't been so scared. If you had told him sooner about the bond that had snapped for you. If you hadn't been so focused on him wanting you for you and not the idea of the bond.

“I need you to promise me you'll tell him."

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you tried to hold back your cries. You didn't want your life to end so sadly. You wanted to be able to speak with your friend, pretend like everything was okay, reminisce on the happy times you had with the people you loved.

Instead, you were laying nearly completely bare on a concrete floor, shackled, covered in blood, tears, and vomit. Your body had been taken apart, your skin flayed open, beaten. You thought you must look like an animal on a butcher's board, your body a canvas of gore.

Cassian was not unharmed either. When they had captured the two of you, they had shot him down with faebane arrows: a dozen or two of them. His wings were severely injured, and his power was subdued from the faebane. He had taken beatings as well, but when they realized how well-trained the general had been in withstanding interrogations, they turned to you.

Inflicting damage on your body was a way to get either yourself or Cassian to talk. They taunted him with your pain, and you felt guilty that this would most likely haunt him as much as it haunted you. Would he forgive himself for doing the right thing and protecting his court?

The two of you were on your way to meet with Eris to go over some plans when you were ambushed by Beron's men. Based on their line of questioning, they still did not know of the eldest son's plans of a coup, but they were suspicious of the Night Court presence in their land.

They used the opportunity to not just ask why you were there, but to interrogate you about the new Night Court addition: Nyx. They wanted to know about his powers, how strong he seemed to be, if he can be used as a weapon, how many guards are constantly with him...

But you and Cassian would never betray your family nor your court.

So when Cassian refused to answer, and the whip came down on your torso, you tried to block out his yells, his growls, his apologies. You tried to block out the pain as the leather cleaved into your skin, flaying it open until muscle showed. You focused on what you would do when you got out of here; how you would go to the library with Nesta and pick out new books, how you would go shopping with Mor, how you would go flying with Azriel.

You focused on happy memories with your friends as fists landed on your cheeks, dug into your ribs. As Cassian took blows, you tried to remember the way he'd make you laugh, contorting his groans of pain into his teasing hums and chuckles.

But as you laid in a pool of your own blood, the taunts of the soldiers echoed in your head, and you knew what was coming.

Your wings would be next to go, and with that, so would you.

Despite yourself, you wondered how Azriel would react. If he would mourn you, if it would hurt him as badly as losing him would hurt you. You wondered how Cassian would tell him about the mating bond, if he would have Azriel sit down first, if Rhys would be there for support as well.

"We are getting out of here," Cassian said, voice stronger and more determined. "And you are telling him yourself."

But then the cells were opening, footsteps marching down the hall, and three males were walking toward you with purpose. They gripped you by your forearms, pulling you up harshly, and you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your panic down.

The lacerations on your arms and abdomen from the whip were burning with a vengeance, infection certain to be spreading from the dirt pressed into them on the concrete. The males' hands twisted around your wounds, and you gasped weakly at the pain as they hauled you to your knees.

The shackles were connected to a hook on the wall, lifting your arms slightly, allowing them full access to your back. Your back that they had not whipped, because they were waiting for this.

"Daisy," he called your nickname -- the one given to you by Azriel when you all were only kids. "Look at me. Just look at me, alright? I'm here."

Your whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and anticipation at what was to come. Panic was suffocating you, building in your chest and making its way up your throat, and you thought your bladder might have even released with how petrified you were.

Cassian's voice was still echoing in the background, but you could only focus on the clanging of chains, the footsteps behind you, the sound of a sword unsheathing.

Your fingers dug into the shackles, fingers white with how hard you were gripping them, trying to steel yourself for what was to come.

"Lord of Bloodshed..." one of the males taunted, spinning the sword around in his hand. "I think you know what this is for."

You drowned out the male's voice. His nasally, grating, voice that seemed to irritate your ears. You drowned out the words that would doom you, focusing instead on listening to your own breathing and heart beat.

You were alive. You were strong.

There was silence after a while, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gritted your teeth, tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

You tried to suck in a breath, tried not to let his protection of his nephew, his protection of his brother, of his court, hurt you. But the sword came down, and your lungs were not yet filled with air.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe.

It was like your limb was being torn from your body, nerve endings flaying open, on fire, agony coursing through your veins and sending a shock through your body all the way to your head.

You thought you might have made a noise, but you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears, and your chest seemed stuck.

Blood splattered across the wall as he pulled the sword out of your wing. It hadn’t gone all the way through; instead, it had gotten stuck in one of the lines of thick membrane, and you gagged when he pulled it from where it had stopped, tissue separating with the motion.

It came down again, a hacking motion, unclean and barbarous, dragging through tendons and nerves.

You had never been in so much pain before. You thought you might be going into shock, your body shaking, stomach nauseous, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing with white noise.

You were only semi-aware of the burning coming up your throat, of the smell of your own vomit.

Cassian’s voice was muffled, drowned out in your mind, but you could hear the sorrow, the panic, the guilt.

Your hands were limp in the shackles, body slumped forward into the wall when the first wing fell to the floor with a thump.

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

And when the sword came down toward the second wing, your adrenaline now out of your system, you couldn’t help the piercing scream that echoed off the walls. You screamed and sobbed and shook until the hacking broke through the second wing too, slicing and grinding it to the floor.

Your entire body was covered in sweat. Cheek pressed to the wall, arms hung above your head but body hanging limp. You tried to stay conscious. You tried to focus on the sounds of Cassian’s sobs, the way he called your name and tried to get your attention. You tried to blink the dizziness away, tried to focus on the blood pooling around you into a large circle.

But everything ached and stung.

As the shackles were released from the wall, weight now imbalanced, your body didn’t even know which way to fall.

You landed in a puddle of your own blood, urine, vomit, and tears. But you were too tired to move, too hurt to move. So you laid there, cheek pressed into the sticky, hot, red liquid, and watched as your friend begged you to stay awake.

Breath stuttering in your chest, blood wavering in front of your mouth with each heave, you reached a hand out to your friend. Just barely. With only enough strength to inch your fingers forward, your body twitching with pain and exertion, you made the motion, tried to communicate that you did not blame him, that you understood, even if your chest ached with hurt.

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

There were times you could hear voices, ones you recognized. Other times it was peacefully quiet. You tried to bask in those moments, where there was no pain or noise—only you and your mind. Where you could pretend like everything was fine and you and Cassian had never left for the Autumn Court early that morning. Or that you had met with Eris as planned, gotten the intel you needed, and returned in time for supper.

But those voices would interrupt your peaceful state, arguing and panicking.

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

You were only brought back to full consciousness briefly when you felt a searing hot pain in your back, pulling you from your sleep gasping for air.

You were on fire, dear gods, you were burning alive.

And then Cassian was in your eyesight, his hazel eyes shining with concern. His hand reached out to cradle your head where it laid atop a pillow, the other stretched across the tops of your shoulders to keep you held down onto the table.

“I know, I know,” he reassured quickly. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

But you didn’t believe him. How could you be okay when you felt like this? When you didn't even understand what was happening?

You were choking on your own cries, on the tears and drool pooling in your mouth. Cassian tried to wipe them away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

Your fingers grasped at the wood underneath you, your legs kicking at an invisible weight holding your lower half down.

“Please-“ your voice shook as your body trembled. “Stop.”

You could feel yourself losing consciousness again, your vision going spotty, the pain too much for your weak, shocked body to handle.

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

You didn’t think you would live past this though. This was unbearable. Pure hot torture raging across the skin of your back and melting the muscle, nerves, and bone.

Distantly, you realized what they were doing. They were cauterizing the wounds. Burning the flesh to stop the bleeding, to give you a chance at healing before it was too late.

Mouth dry, your voice gave out, and you let out hoarse squeaks of pain.

It could have been sixty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the weight on your legs shifted, and the fire edged away.

Your lashes and cheeks were wet with your tears, tongue bitten in your screaming. And as you tried to breathe again, tried to focus on Cassian’s voice as he addressed Eris, on his hand stroking your hair back, you thought of where you could be. If you were actually going to make it back to the Night Court, if you were actually going to survive this.

Gruesome lashes ached on your legs, abdomen, and arms. The weightlessness at your back paired with the smell of burnt flesh brought an image of barbecue to your brain that had you gagging again.

You might survive, but your body wouldn’t. This was no longer you, no longer the body you would have willingly given to Azriel, with the glowing bond in its chest he remained unaware about.

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

“We’re gonna get you home,” you heard Cassian speaking softly to you.

Eris moved around in the background, gathering and packing up supplies in another room of whatever isolated home he had brought you to. You never thought you’d be so grateful to see the auburn-haired male, or that he’d actually put his ass on the line to save you, but here he was.

Had he heard you were captured upon your missed meeting? Did he release you himself?

You knew he would have to find a way to explain how you two got out from the cells. It would most likely end in some form of physical abuse toward him from Beron. The thought made your stomach turn with more sorrow and guilt.

“Eris sent a letter to Rhys. He knows where we are, and he’ll be here soon.”

You let the words comfort you, your eyes fluttering shut and muscles trying to relax after being attacked.

A sharp pain separate from the physical torture you endured burned in your heart, though, as you realized how everything was going to change. Your wings were gone. They took your wings, and with it any happiness or confidence you had felt.

You felt tears swim in your vision, your eyes so exhausted you could barely keep them open enough for the liquid to fall down your cheeks. Cassian immediately wiped them away with his thumb, his brow scrunched in concern as he watched you.

“My wings-” your voice wobbled, and Cassian immediately brought his head to yours in a makeshift hug.

“I know,” he tried to soothe, his voice pinched with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

Eris appeared once again, carrying a blanket and what looked like a loose nightgown. You only then realized how bare you still were from the dungeon and your injuries.

“Here,” the usually cold Autumn lord set the clothes to the side, pulling the blanket out instead. He draped it across your body, adjusting it so it covered from your shoulders to your toes. Cassian gave him a somewhat surprised and suspicious glance, but nonetheless nodded his head at the male gratefully.

“Rhys responded and should be here any minute. The wards are open to him. I assume he is collecting his own healer-”

Eris didn’t even have a chance to finish before shadows materialized in the corner of the room, an intimidating presence taking up the space and charging for the auburn-haired male.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Azriel-” Cassian jumped to his feet, pulling the shadowsinger back. Azriel’s eyes remained locked on the Autumn Court heir, though, his eyes promising a pain he knew all too well how to deliver. “He got us out. We got caught, and he helped us. Without him, she'd be dead.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, body tense with anger. He seemed to take the moment to consider the words, to consider if he believed in their truth. Ultimately, he dropped his hands and turned toward where you laid.

His face crumpled, all anger and drive deflating into devastation.

Feet carrying him over to you, he fell to his knees in the same spot Cassian had just occupied.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, shaking hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You tried to blink up at him, but your vision was still slightly blurred. You could still see the concern in his eyes, though. The way the green and brown melded together with worry and care, sparking the gold tether in your chest alive.

“My sweet Daisy,” he muttered to himself. “What have they done to you?”

Daisy. The nickname was sweet on his lips, sweet as the day he labeled you as his flower. The young boy who had taken a look at the young Illyrian female ravaging her horrible family's garden in a rage and had endearingly called her Daisy. Had compared her to the pretty life that could grow in a horrible place, in horrible soil that kept preventing her from sprouting.

You didn't know what to tell him. Your body still shook with pain, adrenaline, and shock.

You heard Rhys arrive, heard Cassian and Eris explaining what had occurred to the high lord and his healer. You heard Madja curse at the arrow wounds in Cassian's wings, and Cassian insist she help you first.

"You're going to be okay," Azriel placed a soft kiss to your fingertips peeking out from the top of the blanket. "And I am going to make them pay. They are going to regret ever touching you."

You tried to focus on his pretty eyes, his dark eyelashes highlighting the light hazel. He looked so worried, so hurt himself.

Shuffling behind you made your breath hitch, and then the blanket was being moved down your back, exposing your wounds to the cold air.

You winced, a sound you would equate to a wounded animal echoing into the solemn room. Azriel’s hand gripped your own, eyes watching your reaction intently.

But you watched as his eyes moved from your own to glance at what everyone else was seeing—what Madja was here to work on. His face immediately paled, his jaw clenching tight, and his fingers digging into your own.

Did it look as bad as it felt?

You wondered if someone would be able to find you beautiful after this. If Azriel would be able to look at your skin and see a pretty female and not someone who had been put through a meat grinder.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his eyes away from your back and locking onto your own again.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he was trying to contain himself, reign himself in from exploding.

“I didn’t tell them,” you finally spoke. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and throwing up, and dry from lack of water.

Azriel looked as if you had hit him, and you heard Rhys immediately come to your side next to the shadowsinger. He knelt down and placed a kiss to the sweaty skin at your temple, stroking your hair lovingly before looking at you sternly.

“All we care about right now is that our friend is alive and safe. Don’t worry about anything else right now. I’m not.”

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

Rhysand looked haunted but not surprised. “Cassian told me. We will figure it out and plan for the worst.”

You didn’t answer the high lord, focusing on your breathing as Madja began skimming her hands over the gouges in your back.

Violet eyes met your own, and the hazel eyes next to him watched the healer’s actions with intensity. “I will never be able to repay the price you paid to keep my family safe. I am forever indebted to you.”

Tears fell down Rhys’ cheeks, and you wished you could hug him, the male you think of as a brother. But then you thought of how odd that would feel for you—for him—to hug without your wings.

You remembered his story of being captured during the war. How he said he went through endless abuse and torture, but they didn't touch his wings. He had said that touching them would have been the one way to get him to talk.

But you didn't.

“I’d do it again-” you began to say, but you were cut off by Madja’s actions, a piercing pain shooting through you. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hand clamping down on Azriel’s.

“Rhys.” Azriel demanded. What he was demanding, you weren’t sure. But his voice was firm, strong, a tone you hadn’t heard him use before with his brother.

Rhys seemed to understand though, because he stood and walked a few steps to the top of your head, putting a hand there.

“Can I take some of your pain away?” He asked gently, voice still strained from the emotions he showed.

You could barely give a nod of your head with how badly your muscles were tensed in agony. But he saw it, and as you felt the mental talons drag along the walls of your mind, your tear-filled eyes met Azriel’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” the shadowsinger said, eyes gleaming with sorrow. “My strong Daisy. My brave, brave girl.”

And with some of the pain gone—there, but now slightly more bearable as the healer worked—you could breathe a bit easier.

Azriel continued speaking to you, distracting you from the work going on around your body. “Before you know it, we’ll be back in Velaris. We can go to that bookstore you like and pick out as many books as you want. I’ll read one with you, if you want. Even one of those romances you like so much.”

He tried to give you a soft smile, but it looked sad, and it made your heart hurt.

A rough twist near your back and a sob escaped your mouth. Rhys’ energy swarmed stronger in your mind, and Azriel was quick to lean forward, face inches from your own, eyes drowning in fear and worry.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, voice heavy with panic. “Just focus on me. I know it hurts, but we’ve gotta do it. You’re almost done, sweetheart. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Your cries were becoming louder and you could hear Azriel cursing, could see through your tears the way he tipped his head up to look at Rhys in desperation.

“Can we put her to sleep?” He asked toward the healer, and if you didn’t know what he asked, the sound of his voice would have made you think he was begging.

It was silent for a moment, and you could feel Azriel’s hands start shaking around your limp one in his grasp.

Madja finally responded, sounding grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What can I do?” Azriel pleaded toward the healer.

You tried to control your sobs, control the way your body convulsed at the touches of the healer behind you. But it was excruciating, the lack of wings, the deep tendons, muscles, bones, and nerves ripped from your skin and haphazardly cauterized despite possible infection. And now to try to fix the rushed burns, to check for infection and draw it out...

“Keep her awake.”

Azriel’s head dipped down for a moment, either in sorrow or in order to compose himself. But then he was looking at you, so lovely and beautiful you nearly felt like you were dreaming.

And he tried to sound positive, his voice going up a bit to sound lighter, but it was strained and not entirely convincing.

“I found that cat you have been following around Velaris. The stray that tries to sneak into the coffee shop? I guess some of the customers feed him. They call him Bix, and he lives under the porch of the place.”

Your vision swims as you try to pay attention to what he is saying, and his fingers lightly tap your cheek.

“I'll take you to visit him soon. Okay? I'll even pet him this time."

You tried to smile at the image of the stoic shadowhunter holding a cute stray cat, but even the muscles in your face felt heavy and lethargic.

"Maybe we can get you a cat," he continued when he saw you listening. "I know you’ve always wanted one. And Rhys would probably give you fifty now if you asked.”

His voice was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more you wanted to sleep. His presence was like a balm to the last ten hours, the scent of him, the feel of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, all reminded you that you were safe again.

Rhys’ power rushed through you, and you could feel your body start to go numb, the pain ebbing away thanks to your friend and high lord.

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

“Hey-” Azriel sat up a little straighter, the movement pulling your eyelids open once more. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. You can sleep soon, I promise. Just not yet.”

But you could barely hear him. Your mind was already falling, vision warping into a blurry vignette.

Azriel was here. You were safe.

“Madja-” Azriel's voice became more frantic as he watched you start to fade. In a panic, he stood from his position at your side and gripped your face in both his palms.

His fingertips were gentle on your face as they lightly tapped, trying to get your attention without hurting you. When you didn’t respond, your heavy eyelids beginning to succumb to sleep, he began to tap a little harder, his strong hands trying to pull you back up.

The last thing you heard before finally allowing a pain free and peaceful rest to overtake you was Azriel pleading your name, a shuffle of two bodies, and then his touch being gone, his deep voice suspended in the room instead—a darkness trailing underneath it that would have had you on your knees if not for you floating into unconsciousness.

“Prepare for a war, Rhysand. Because if she doesn’t wake up, I will slaughter every last member of the Autumn Court.”

Before darkness enveloped you, you briefly wondered if their bodies would look like your own when he was finished.

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel fluff

[forzalando]

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #forzalando #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[miserycanary]

BREAK MY HEART INTO TWO ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost has been feeling pissed off lately, and happens to lash out on you

tags: slight angst, misunderstandings, very slight mention of violence

He knew he was not in the right headspace. With the newly added task of training new recruits, the dead-end mission, and overall exhaustion. Ghost could feel his patience nearing nothing and he could feel it in his bones that he wouldn’t be able to control himself from lashing out soon— even if it was you. 

That’s why he started to distance himself and avoid you like the plague. Only responding with grunts or one-word answers. It’s not the best action but he couldn’t think of anything else. Despite the frustration clouding his mind, he still vows to never hurt you. He promised you that; reassured you that he would never ever raise his voice at you, his hand stroking your back and kissing your temple, after you told him about your past one drunken night. 

The first time Simon came home and didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, nosing the crook of your neck, you knew something was up. You didn’t push the matter though. Brushing it off as something trivial and proceeding to go your usual routine. You did notice things that you never brought up with him: heavy footsteps, the lack of teasing from him, and uncharacteristically never clinging onto you  

What finally pushed you to visit the base was when Si, your husband who would go through all levels of hell just to be close to you and never lets a night pass without you with him in bed, suddenly tells you he will be sleeping on the couch. It baffled you. This is the same man who wrapped all his limbs around to keep you from leaving after a big fight. The same man that acts like a big baby when you tell him you’re gonna be away on a work event. Suddenly, the idea of him getting bored of you and finding entertainment with another woman intrusively swirled in your mind. 

Were you too loud? Too chatty? Clingy? Maybe you didn’t satisfy him enough. Maybe he wanted a wife available to always cook for him after work. It scared you. You love him; love him enough to change just to keep him.

You needed to talk to him. Whether he likes it or not. 

“Price, please. Just call him for me?” The captain looks at you, hesitating. Even though he was aware of Ghost’s thinning temper and didn’t want to put his comrade’s wife in a position that could result in a fight, he also knew that you needed to solve this. He scratches his beard, nervously looking at you. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know. The man.. he.. he hasn’t been the best these days? Maybe you should go home and wait for him—“. You cut him off, “he doesn’t want to talk to me! Please, just 5 minutes and I won’t even cause a scene. I promise!” With a sigh, he finally relents and tells you to stay there while he calls for your husband. You crack a smile, nodding and feeling a sense of relief wash over you. 

Moments after being alone, a new recruit (you assume considering you’ve never met this man nor did Simon ever mention him) approaches you with a low wolf whistle. His hands find your waist before you can even comprehend what’s happening, pulling you close to his chest. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” You freeze, and disgust starts to bubble up inside of you. You plant your hand on his chest in an attempt to pull away in fear that Simon would witness this and think differently. Before you could say to leave you alone, a voice booms out. A voice you know too well. 

“Y/N!” Simon takes three strides and he was near enough to pull the recruit away from you and land a punch. Scandalous gasps went around while the yells of other members went inaudible to you. You stood there in horror as Price stepped in, pushing Ghost away and yelling to stand down. This was not your Simon. Your Simon would never be this violent in front of you— he was too scared to frighten you and do something to push you away. These weren’t the same hands carried you as if a delicate flower he plucked as well. The hands that routinely offers to brush your hair every night and washes you every sex session while he kisses your shoulders, showering you with endless praise with a voice filled with adoration.

Ghost whips his head. His cold stare made you falter, taking a step back. Something you never thought you’d do when faced with him. You could see his mask move, undoubtedly hiding his disappointment and furrowed eyebrows. 

“What are you doing here?” He seethes, roughly gripping your arm tight enough to leave a bruise.

“I-I... I wanted to see you—“ Before you could even finish, Ghost groans with frustration. “I fucking told you to not come to the base. Were you even thinking? Use that pea-sized brain of yours once in a while! Just.. leave me alone and go home.”

Silence. The whole base quiets down with his words, a tense atmosphere building up. You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you notice Price’s contort with concern and hesitation if he should meddle. 

The pain you felt was indescribable. It was as if Ghost took your heart and crushed it with his bare hands. Your breathing got labored, your eyes flicked down, taking deep breaths to hold back tears. Before the realization has fully settled, you pull away from Ghost, mumbling something incoherent. In that moment, Ghost knew he fucked up. He hurt his darling flower. He hurt the only person he treasured. The person that stayed with him through thick and thin. The person he married, vowed in front of God to love forever and to never hurt. 

“No, baby— I didn’t mean to—“

You cut him off, telling him you were going back just like he wanted. You didn’t even call it your home. You always do. Saying it with pride to have something to call home with him. 

God, what has he done? 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: dare I say this man needs a break :} Second part is out. Little detail: I use ‘Simon’ during Y/N’s pov and Ghost for the rest, but used Ghost for her after he yelled at her. :3

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

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check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #light angst #ghost mw2 #ghost angst #ghost fic #simon ghost x you #canary’s melodies

[starreo]

multi-character drabble.

includes insecure! reader w glasses, adult themes so, mdni.

he doesn't understand why you take off your glasses right before stepping out. you're squinting at absolutely everything, struggling to even read the types of boba on the menu behind the counter. your eyebrows are furrowed and you're biting your lips, so he reads out the menu, emphasizing your go-to. as you walk out of the cafe with your usual boba in one hand, and his arm in the other, he asks you. "do you not feel pretty in your glasses?" and you almost choke on the chewy tapioca. you ask him to elaborate with wide eyes, does he too, think you're prettier without your glasses?

"they add character to your appearance. to me, they enhance your beauty, instead. dunno why you don't like 'em. my entire body gets hot when i see you in 'em. like, the urge to just drop everything and fuck-" noticing your amused expression, he immediately stops himself. he was never good with words...so maybe, he'll just show you with actions.

and staying true to his internal promise, he did.

his hands trained on your waist, gripping tightly as he tries to keep his eyes open despite the overwhelming pleasure.

his large, veiny cock pacing in and out of you so quickly, hitting all the right spots, making such a mess that you can't register anything in that brain of yours before you're cumming all over the sheets again. your glasses getting crooked as you try to bury the back of your head into the pillow, because your brain just could not handle the amount of pleasure being received by your body. "s-so hot....f-fuck...y'er so hot..."

gojo, reo, eren, bakugo, nagi, barou, atsumu, kunigami, suna rintaro + your favs <3

© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .

#gojo smut #bllk smut #jjk smut #bnha smut #nagi smut #bakugo smut #barou smut #eren smut #hq smut #atsumu smut #jjk #blue lock smut #kunigami smut #jjk x reader #suna smut #bllk #anime smut #blue lock x reader #reo smut #blue lock #tw.dark content #mdni #starreo #nsfw. drabbles :p #tw.breeding

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

#Fma 03 #FMA #fullmetal alchemist #Fma:b #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #Legitimately though the original is so fucking good #The music alone makes it worth the watch #Also the art direction is better fight me #mild spoilers