#but by god I'm proud of those boots

[pseudowho]

Grandpapamin

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...

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Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.

It was like love...squared.

He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.

While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.

In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.

You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.

You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.

"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.

"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.

You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.

When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.

A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.

Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."

He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.

Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.

Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.

Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.

It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.

Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.

Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.

While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.

Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.

Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.

Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.

Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.

Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.

Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.

His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.

One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.

After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.

Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.

Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.

The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.

Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.

Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.

The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.

"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.

"I thought we could all go. Together."

Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.

His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.

Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #kento nanami x y/n #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you

[artaxlivs]

Were they kidding with this bullshit? Like, seriously? So many gates opening up to different dimensions now that there were too many for Supergirl to close and this? This is what they got? Fuck this. Seriously.

"Are you a virgin?" Mike asked like the total little dickhead he is.

"So what if I am? Aren't you? And the rest of your little friends?" Eddie sniped back at the rude little bastard but then, he blanched, "actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Why did this have to be happening when Eddie was on a perimeter check?

Mike rolled his eyes like he couldn't believe how ridiculous Eddie was being, "Dumbass, we're children. Unicorns never go to innocent children in fairy tales. Because we're all innocent. They go to innocent adults. Virgins." He put far too much emphasis on the word because he is, as mentioned, a little dickhead.

"Listen, fuck you and the unicorn you rode in on. I'm not fucking innocent. I've done...things. Things I'm not gonna tell you about!" Eddie sputtered, crossing his arms and almost losing his precarious balance on the tree branch.

He needed to be careful because there was a unicorn circling underneath him. And not the beautiful, ethereal kind. It was beautiful, sure, but it had blood all over his muzzle and splattered across it's chest and on it's front hooves. Probably from the last virgin it had tracked down in god knows what dimension and trampled slash eaten to death. It's eyes were blazing red fire and it had fangs. Fangs. Fuck. That.

Eddie heard Steve sighing and then he flailed an arm from Eddie's tree branch to Robin and said, "It can't be trying to get you because you're a virgin, it's not going anywhere near Robin!"

The girl in question squeaked. Her ears and cheeks went bright red. All three of them turned to look at her.

"Wait, what? Was it you know who? From the...? You didn't tell me? When did you...?" Steve asked cryptically, shedding absolutely no light on who Buckley was knocking boots with.

"Yes after we met at the...place." Robin supplied lamely and then bared her teeth and said through them, "After. But before we went back in to fight Henry slash Vecna slash One." She shrugged and let out a hysterical sounding giggle. "It was...End of the World Sex. Just in case, you know?"

"Ohhhh I'm so proud of you!" And oddly, Steve really did sound proud. Which was weird. Eddie was pretty sure Robin was gay which meant the caginess was in reference to a girl but the fact that Steve was so supportive was a little suprising.

Without actively thinking about the repercussions, Eddie's mouth decided to test that theory, "Well damn, wish I'd have thought of that. Steve - want to deflower me so this unicorn leaves me alone?" The hysterical giggle Eddie let out rivaled Robin's.

Slowly Steve turned back to him but before he could reply, Mike scoffed, "You are his type. Skinny, big bushy hair, big eyes, you and Nancy both talk like everyone is just waiting to listen to you to speak." He rolled his eyes, "Annoying."

"Rude!" Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully, "You know what though? I'm fine with it. Nancy Wheeler is a badass and I want to be her when I grow up. Or when I get down from this tree." Eddie cringed, staring down as the unicorn stopped and looked up, one of it's flaming eyes bore into him. It neighed, shaking it's gorgeous mane but also splattering little droplets of blood everywhere.

Gross. So gross.

"Huh. Now that you mention it..." Robin stared up at Eddie thoughtfully, "I totally see it."

Steve just dragged his hand down his face and glared at the angry unicorn, "Okay, we need a real plan because Eddie isn't coordinated enough to have sex in a tree." He put his hands on his hips like a baseball mom wondering if she brought enough orange slices and Shastas for the whole team. "Do we know any other adult virgins to lure this one away?"

Mike snorted, "Those are probably more rare than the unicorn.'

Eddie flipped him off, "You're rolling at disadvantage on all charisma and persuasion checks for the rest of time."

"We'll have to find a new DM when the unicorn gores you anyway," Mike shrugged. "Whatever."

Then he wandered off. Just walked away, like Eddie wasn't two feet away from being mauled by a feral beast who's name was probably Glitter Sparkle or some shit. What a dickhead.

Looking away from the unicorn, Eddie watched Robin wave Steve over and whisper to him. They had a hushed conversation for several minutes while Eddie yelled things like, "Wanna share with the class?" and "Good friends don't make shitty plans in secret!" But they ignored him. Bastards.

Until Steve turned to the tree and asked, "By 'things' what do you mean?"

What?

"Harrington, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You said you've done 'things' but not had sex. What things?" Steve brushed a hand through his miraculously still perfect hair, and sighed, obviously frustrated, "We're trying to figure out what the unicorn considers virginity. Robin's never..." He petered off and glanced back at her and then over at Mike who was half way down the block with his radio out, sitting on a bench with his back to them, probably telling everyone that Eddie still had his V card. Traitor.

He was too far away for them to hear his conversation so he was probably too far for theirs.

Robin cleared her throat. "I've never had, you know, penetrative sex. Just...um...uh...third base!" She squeaked again and then covered her face with her hands.

"You're being extremely weird about sex talk while a blood covered unicorn is stalking me like a jungle cat!" Eddie informed her. "Oral. Just say oral sex, you weirdo!"

"Ok fine!" She shouted, "I've given and reciprocated oral sex! Jesus." Then she crossed her arms and grumbled under her breath, tapping one foot on the grass.

Eddie couldn't help it. He laughed with glee. "Was she cute?"

Robin sputtered, mouth dropping in shock.

What? Did she think she was a subtle lesbian? Because she wasn't. Not at all. Her high tops had boobs drawn on them like some twelve year old boy just hitting puberty. He rolled his eyes.

Steve looked up at Eddie then. His eyebrows were arched in that way they get when he's thinking up a plan. They're not always good plans but he carries them out and everyone usually lives so, Eddie could do worse. "Well - Big Boy?" Steve's lips twitched in a smile at using Eddie's nickname for him. "I'm guessing when you said you've done 'things,' you were lying?"

"Yeah, duh." Eddie retorted, snapping in his irritation and mounting fear. Mounting, ha. Like a horse and like sex. Mounting. He bit his lip to contain the very poorly timed giggle.

Robin rolled her eyes, grabbed Steve's arm and gave him a severe 'be careful' look and then hustled over to where Mike was sitting. When Steve tucked his bat into his backpack and started to creep around the tree, he realized she was giving them privacy. Holy shit.

The unicorn didn't even acknowledge Steve's presence as he skirted around it and climbed the tree, grunting and complaining under his breath how nobody better call him the Virginsitter because he swears to God. Then the rest of his grumbling got lost, buried under the sound of Eddie's heart pounding in his ears.

Holy shit.

And that's how Eddie lost his mythically constructed virginity in a tree to Steve Harrington who was apparently bisexual and very, very good at blowjobs.

Neither of them even noticed which way the unicorn went.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #feral unicorns #it's a thing #I'm making it a thing #virginity is a man made construct to place value on a women's virtue and fuck that nonsense

[wileys-russo]

washing machine malfunction II m.earps x reader

based on this request here washing machine malfunction II m.earps

"taking footage to scout with are you?" your best friend teased as you filmed a clip of the game, smacking her knee and sending her a playful glare. "no! proving to mary i sat through the entire game." you quipped back, sending the video to your girlfriend and pocketing your phone.

"oh sorry are we not up to your standards? do you only watch games at old trafford or wembley now?" your best friend cooed pinching your cheek sharply. "yes actually, or at least where they have actual toilet blocks and not portaloos." your face scrunched up with disgust.

"hey if you'd like to donate some money toward that we'd be very grateful, not every womens team gets funding you know." your best friend huffed as you frowned and squeezed her knee.

"i'm only teasing. you know i'm happy to be here, just wish i was watching you yell at people on the pitch and not at me for once!" you sighed as the girl scoffed and smacked you, she was normally the captain but was out in a boot having sprained her ankle last week.

"so where are you coming on the table?" you clarified, eyes set back on the match unfolding in front of you. "third, but its only the fourth round of the season. lots can change!" the brunette admitted as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

"okay no offence to you and your entire team but your keeper kept you all alive this game, it should be 5-0." you whistled as the second half started to wind down.

"of course you favour the keeper, what a shock!" your best friend drawled sarcastically with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew for full time and a 0-0 draw.

"hey just because my girlfriend is a golden glove holding, bbc sports personality of the year winning, world cup finalist and champion of europe with a tram named after her doesn't mean im bias to keepers!" you grinned holding your hands up as your best friend rolled your eyes.

"oh but you don't brag about her right." the girl mocked with a pout as your grin grew. "only to those who have no choice but to listen, i'd like to see you try and run away from me." you gently nudged your toe against her moon boot as she shoved you.

"you know you could always play with us next season! reallyyy make the girlfriend proud, i can see mary being a very loyal wag." the girl teased as you laughed sarcastically. "you couldn't afford my salary." you shrugged with a click of your tongue.

"more like we couldn't afford your two left feet and lack of hand eye coordination." the girl snickered gesturing for you to help her up. "yeah that too." you had no choice but to agree with a grimace, tugging her up and carefully helping her down toward the barrier.

you stood by as she gave a speech, commending the girls on their efforts as your phone buzzed and you looked down with a smile seeing it was a few messages from your girlfriend.

"god you're so in love its disgusting, get a grip!" you glanced back up and pocketed your phone, playfully punching your best friend in the arm as you waited for her to finish speaking with some of her team, having driven her to the game.

"you can tell us all about what we did wrong at training! stop making your poor mate wait around for you to run your mouth." the keeper from the game warned with a grin as she joined the small huddle you were in.

"you were perfect as per usual, only feedback is maybe score from the box next time? make the game a little spicy!" your best friend teased the taller girl who rolled her eyes. "no seriously you played great! that dive in injury time was textbook and that penalty save? world cup stuff." you complimented with a wide smile.

"and she'd know, her girlfriends played in one so thats high praise." your best friend interjected shoving your head playfully. "wait seriously? talk about a dream!" the girl exhaled with a whistle and a grin.

"well then since you clearly have a good eye for talent-" the girl paused to tug off her jersey, handing it to you with a grin before hugging the girls goodbye and heading off. "we best be off to, i'll see you all monday. i'll bring my whistle!" your best friend teased as the girls groaned, you waving goodbye as the two of you headed off to your car.

"i'd be leaving that in the car if you know whats good for you." your best friend nodded to the jersey on your back seat as you pulled a face and started up the car. "what! why?" you laughed as you drove off.

"umm because your girlfriend is a world class keeper and you just took a keepers jersey from someone else." your best friend hinted. "mary won't care! she's all for more girls wanting to be keepers and she loves the womens game." you rolled your eyes as your best friend only hummed, swiftly changing topics.

~

"maz? baby i'm home!" you called out as you let yourself in, unwrapping your scarf and hanging it up on the hook. "two seconds love!" you heard your girlfriend call out from the laundry as you took off your shoes.

"hello beautiful!" the brunette appeared with a grin, placing down a basket of clean laundry on the sofa and opening her arms as you melted into them. "you smell nice." you mumbled into her shoulder making the taller girl laugh.

"ah yes the wonders of soap and shampoo!" the keeper teased, kissing you hello before pulling away. "and she's doing laundry? house wife in the making over here!" you teased, smacking her playfully on the bum with a wink.

"oi! watch it cheeky." mary warned with a point, sitting down on the sofa as you leant over the back of it to peck her lips several times. "whats that babe?" mary noticed the jersey tucked into the back of your pants as you walked into the kitchen.

"oh! well the keeper of saf's team is like insane for the league level they play. i'm serious it could have been like twenty to nothing if she wasn't on her game. we were talking after the game and she gave me her jersey!" you shrugged, dropping the item onto the counter as you rummaged through the fridge, missing the look which crossed your girlfriends face.

"oh? thats nice." mary replied bluntly as you glanced at her with a small frown. "yeah it was." you shrugged it off, grabbing it and tossing it into the dirty basket of laundry.

"how was your afternoon?" you changed topics, grabbing out the stuff to make you and mary a cup of tea. "yeah fine, went shopping with tooney and had to make a last minute excuse to leave because she takes forever! so on the rare chance she asks, you're deathly ill and needed me back home." mary groaned dramatically, head thumping back against the sofa.

"like worse than you and thats saying something!" mary tutted as you made a noise of offence. "hey! if i have to sit in a sports store for two hours while you try on every fucking pair of gloves known to man and then buy none of them, you can carry my bags and sit on a comfy little waiting chair while i try a few outfits." you warned seriously as your girlfriend held her hands up in surrender.

"especially when some of those 'outfits' i spend hours trying on are for you." you hinted, handing her the mug of tea as a smug smile settled on the keepers lips.

"mm yeah we haven't been that sort of shopping for awhile, you free tomorrow baby?" mary grinned wolfishly as you flipped her off and settled into the section of the sofa that wasn't covered in laundry and flicking on the tv.

~

"change, put this on please babe." mary tugged on the bottom of your shirt, dropping a new item of clothing onto your head. "urgh mary!" you huffed, pulling it off and sending her a glare as she grinned at you with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"why do i need to change?" you noticed what she'd given you and asked with a knowing smile. "i don't like that shirt." mary shrugged pointing to your current top with her foot as she sat up on the counter brushing her teeth.

"its your shirt!" you laughed with a shake of your head. "then i want it back, so change." mary ordered, leaning over the sink and spitting. "what if i don't want to wear this?" you egged her on, holding up the jersey inbetween your fingers like it disgusted you.

"then go pick another one, theres about twenty or so in there you can choose from." mary shrugged nodding to her side of the closet where the jerseys she'd chosen to keep over the years hung proudly, rinsing out her mouth and stepping out of the bathroom.

"mmm i actually think i might go put on that jersey from today, saf's team just played so well." you stripped off your top and took a few steps back, watching your girlfriends eyes drop immediately to your chest.

"you know on second thoughts love i actually don't think you need to wear anything at all." you laughed as mary tackled you to the bed, attacking your face with kisses as you squealed and pushed her off. "you hate that i took that girls jersey today don't you?" you moved to sit on top of her with a grin.

"no!" mary rolled her eyes, reaching out for you as you grabbed her hands and pressed them into the mattress. "yes you are, admit it. you hate it, the thought of me wearing someone elses kit!" you teased with a smirk, pressing down her hands harder.

"okay well can you blame me? you're my girlfriend and you wear my jersey. nobody elses!" mary huffed with a frown as you smiled and leant down to kiss away her pout. "you're such a baby, its adorable." you mumbled against her lips.

"i am not! god you're such a wind up." mary pulled her hands free and flipped the two of you, hovering over you now as she ducked her head and started to gently kiss at your neck.

"and tomorrow the washing machine is going to malfunction and that girls jersey will sadly be gone."

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso community #engwnt #woso blurbs

[spdrvyn]

a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?

bewitched by bandages — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: as per usual, you were spending your late-nights fighting crime and trying to protect the city to the best of your ability. as you are in the midst of a strenuous battle, you're sucked into a portal which brings you to what you assume to be another dimension.

THIS FIC CONTAINS: violence. harassment. somewhat detailed descriptions of wounds. angst. hurt/comfort. translated spanish (i didn't use google translate). f!reader

NOTES: GOD I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH HOLY SHIT thank you anon for sending me this ask i was gonna do this kind of thing w miguel eventually but like still mwah, sorry for being ia too btw... i'm trying to avoid getting burnt out n shit so that i keep writing stuff for you guys 🫶 anyway, ENJOOOY

"You will never be apart of this."

Those were the last words uttered to you before proclaimed protector of the multiverse, Miguel O'Hara, disappeared into the portal possibly never to be seen again.

He thought so too. At least, until he came back a week later due to yet another anomaly showing up in your dimension. Then another, then another, then another.

Humiliating was an understatement. What kind of Spider-Woman were you if you couldn't even take down one anomaly? Every time trouble came, Miguel was there to fix it. For once, you wanted to be the one to catch the beast. Hold it's severed head up to him with a big, fat smile on your face.

But that was a distant dream, only to be seen after you collapse onto your bed after an exhausting day.

You felt even more hurt when you found out that he was the leader of some kind of Spider Society. Yet, as he said when he first met you, you just weren't capable enough to join it.

Granted, he explained that it was an elite strike force but still. You were proud of yourself for making it this far into the whole Spider-woman gig, turns out that the bar was higher than you thought it was. It saddened you, deeply.

Though with time comes change. You've honed your skills and now confident enough to laugh in the face of who you were months ago, if an anomaly ever showed up again you'd show Miguel who's boss (not literally) and finally be able to join that god forsaken society.

You were much more confident in battle, actually much more confident in general. It was like you were an entirely different person to the criminals that you cowered before at night and the other more important people in your life at day.

However, there were moments where that confidence faltered.

Moments where you felt like that terrified, shameful, and naive little spider that you were mere months ago. A moment like now as you were being absolutely destroyed by one of your regular enemies.

You didn't know his name, you didn't want to bother trying to know anyway. He was the type of villain to give those excruciatingly long monologues that only dragged more and more time out of your excruciatingly long nights. So you just called him tech guy.

He is exactly what he sounds like. Covered from almost head-to-toe with different kinds of technologically advanced weaponry that made you wonder if he'd work as an appliance in a smart home.

Even when you enjoyed poking fun at the multiple devices stuck to his body, he didn't. Continuing to upgrade himself more and more each time the both of you fought. You had a feeling in your gut that your devilishly charming personality would come back to bite you in the ass someday.

He had you under the heel of his boot, quite literally this time. You bite back a grunt as his shoe continues to press into you, barely being able to look back up, you can see the absolutely smug grin on his face.

"I warned you, Spider-Woman. If only you listened to me, you would've seen this coming from miles away!"

"I'm here to—" You want to bury your face into the pavement as you can feel something sharp pierce the small of your back. "Fight bad guys not listen to lectures!"

"And look at where not listening has gotten you, little spider." Tech guy chuckled, uncomfortably close to your ear. You try to pull away but he has you pinned and he's close, too close. You swore from the corner of your eye that he had his hand raised. About to strike.

This was it, he was going to knock you out. Take you back to who knows where. Or maybe even kill you right here and right now. Leaving your corpse on the street for the citizens of New York, the citizens that you swore you'd protect to be mortified by.

You were finished, your end had come. It terrified you, if people saw your fate, who would do this job? Who would be able to gain the courage to step up? Even after knowing the dangers that lurk and entail it?

Dangers such as a portal opening up on the floor beneath you, it was blinding as you squint and your senses are immediately flooded by what feels like everything.

It's like a strong gust of wind swoops you away, the distant yells of tech guy growing quieter and quieter.

This relieved you but pained you.

As you were being blissfully carried away from whatever force was helping you right now, it put a lot of pressure on the injuries that have sustained from that scuffle.

You tried to scream, yell, shout for anyone in this space but nothing. You curl up into a ball, in attempts for it stop and hope that your next destination is the sensation of nothingness.

It was like you were being torn apart then put back together. Shifting from each form. Solid, liquid, gas, solid, liquid, gas, solid liquid, gas, solid rooftop.

What?

You groaned, looking up at the night sky of whatever hell you just landed in. You tried to sit up and you were able to! But with a now bleeding lip in attempts to muffle the absolutely bloodcurdling scream that you were about to let out.

Wherever you were, it wasn't hell (thankfully) but it definitely wasn't New York. At least not your New York.

Everything was strangely futuristic. Flying cars, sleek architecture, a lot of grass to your surprise, and beautiful lights that finished the beautiful view off.

The rooftop that you had landed on was no different either, whoever owned this place had a spectacular taste in furniture and it showed here. As you looked to your side, it seemed that it also connected to a bedroom. An empty bedroom.

God, you were going to feel so guilty about this later.

Fighting back yet another pained noise from coming out of your mouth, you manage to build the strength to get up on your two feet and stumble towards the entrance.

You take your slow strides and get to observe the room in the process, it was very spacious. A huge monitor hanging on one wall, a huge closet on the other side, not to mention that it has a bathroom attached, what would it be without a huge bed in the middle of it all?

To your dismay, you're only able to make it a few steps in before needing to grip the bedsheets for dear life.

The dear life that you might lose when you hear the muted sounds of someone talking from outside.

You're not really able to make any words out but it sounded like whoever they were, they yelled out to someone. Suddenly, she appeared in front of you.

A lady, dressed in a somewhat lengthy but quite fashionable fur coat, she adorned a pair of heart shaped sunglasses as she looked at the TV in the room with a puzzled look on her face.

It's not long before she catches sight of you, eyes widening and both of you exchange glances. You bring your index finger to your mouth in a placating gesture but it only gets worse as she calls out:

"... Miguuueeeeel!"

Miguel? Miguel?

Frantically, you wave your hands around in an attempts to shush her but your heart rate spikes as her body practically phases through you. Hologram. You were throwing hands with a hologram.

And it's like the whole world stops when the bedroom door slides open, your worst fears had come true.

There he stood. Miguel O'Hara. Although something felt different, and you realized that his mask was off. The first thing that came to mind was the unamused pout that he wore, eyes that stared down at you disappointedly, and a broad frame that took up nearly the entire doorway.

The silence was deafening, you could hear it ringing in your ears. So deafening that you could hear your heart drumming in your chest, your shallow breaths, his footfalls as he walked over to you. Before turning his head to his hologram lady.

"Lyla, scan this." Lyla nodded before looking you up and down, wherever her eyes followed it scanned. She turns back to Miguel with the prognosis on your injuries. "Fifteen scratches, ten bruises, and a slightly fractured rib."

The noise that Miguel let out irked you a little, you could feel how heavy it was as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have a lot of articles that could help with fixing this mess, big guy."

"No, it's fine. I can deal with this myself,"

"If you say so."

Lyla seemingly poofs into thin air, leaving you alone with him and a whole lot of questions that you have to ask. Even then, even if you were the one technically intruding in his home, you couldn't break the silence. Where to even start?

"Who did this to you?" Well, okay. That was a start. You tried to open your mouth to even get a small explanation out but as you attempted to piece your thoughts together, the more it felt like your brain fogged up.

Miguel had unfortunately noticed this too, what a way to make an impression after weeks of not seeing each other. "Just sit down." You obviously complied, careful not to let any blood drip down onto his sheets, you hoped that you wouldn't embarrass yourself further.

Those months of training, those months of self-improvement, those months of trying to be better all shattered within an instant as you saw Miguel rummage through his closet, cursing under his breath until he emerged with a first aid kit.

It felt so hard to think about anything and everything. Well, not really. There were a million thoughts racing through your head right now, most of them being what exactly was going through Miguel's head.

Was he disappointed? It would be a lot more unlikely if he wasn't if you were completely honest. Was he upset? If you saw someone you didn't hold in a high regard just magically appear on the roof of your home all beat up, you wouldn't be the happiest in the world.

There wasn't even a single peep out of him as he opened the small kit, equipping himself with what looked to be a medical cream and rolls of bandages. You spared him just a small glance, you were expecting him to look you dead in the eye with nothing but pure unbridled rage for ruining his night but instead?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He was laser focused on treating you right now or what you had thought to be a more plausible situation: he was just too disheartened to even look at you.

And you completely understood why, therefore ripping your gaze away from his eyes and moving down to his hands instead. You watched intently as the part around his hands dissolved into mere pixels before he swiped up a good amount of the cream onto his fingers, then gestured for you to hold your arm out.

Once the medicine came into contact with your wounds, tears dared to prick at your eyes. Fuck, it hurt a lot but you didn't really need to ruin his impression of you any further. You resorted to biting down hard on your lip and turning your head away.

Miguel, being the ever observant one, noticed this as well.

"You owe me an explanation." He was right. You did. You were quite confident that if you stayed radio silent for the rest of the night, you would be sleeping on the cold, cold streets of this world. "I've surmised that you got sucked into a portal then ended up here but most don't end up with injuries this bad."

There goes a good chunk of your explanation, which played well on your end. You didn't even want to begin describing what being transported from dimension to dimension felt like. Still, you wanted to play this cool.

"I was just in a fight, it was nothing serious."

"Nothing serious? Did you hear the results of that scan?"

You can't help how your cheeks flush at his quip, perhaps you were playing it too cool. If you tried too hard, he'd probably be able to see right through you but before you could even attempt defending yourself, he butts in.

"Qué dolor de cabeza." You heard him mutter. "I need more details about this, how many people were in the fight? What were they like? I'm not a mind reader."

His tone was harsh, it felt like he was cutting your scars open rather than healing them. You semi-understood why he was a leader, he had a way of making demands that was for sure.

"It was just one guy, but he had a lot of mechanical attachments. Saws, tentacles, other blades." As you explained, Miguel finished up bandaging your arm and gestured for your other one. You shifted slightly in position and held that up as well, sucking in a sharp breath as he goes through the routine of applying the disinfectant.

He seemed to just hum at your answer like he wasn't relentlessly asking you questions moments ago, you assumed that he wanted to hear more information so you kept talking. Like an idiot.

"I'm not the biggest tech person, you know? I was just swinging through and then he ambushed me, every time I've encountered him, he just continued to get stronger and stronger."

"Every time? How many times exactly?"

He emphasized 'exactly' as if you were actually supposed to count but even if you presented those kinds of details with a whole ass statistic chart, the answer would still disappoint him.

"Probably more than five. Like I said, he upgrades and–"

"Yes, yes. You said that already." He interrupts you again, hurriedly finishing up your arm before he rolls up the bandages; throwing them back into the aid kit with a very audible thud.

If there was another talent of his, it would be how very quickly he's able to shatter your pride.

"What are you trying to do here?" He asks you. You know you shouldn't be asking questions at risk of making yourself look even more stupid but with how vague that was, it felt like you had the right to. "What are you talking about?"

"You're trying to impress me. I'm asking you this stuff to know more about the nature of your injuries and you're trying to goddamn impress me. Why?"

Oh.

Clearly, since it felt like he knew so much more about you, you just looked at him. How could this possibly get any worse after all? No matter what you said, no matter how hard you tried, it would all be for naught in the end.

"If this is about what I said when we first met, these antics of yours seriously aren't helping your case." Your body went numb. "Then, after I clear all the anomalies in your dimension, you come flying back to me. Seriously?"

Your mind went numb.

This felt like more than just a reality check to you, no. Every single criticism that shot back at you continued to break you down into smaller, smaller pieces.

You dreamt about meeting him again someday, and it did not look like this in the slightest. Only now, if you thought about what that scenario would be like, you'd conk yourself in the head for being so fucking delusional.

The distant dream of him entering your dimension, to see an anomaly in your capable hands, to hear that gravelly voice that has only continued to criticize you praise you for your deeds, then you'd get recruited into the Spider Society and save the multiverse to your heart's content.

Oh, how dumb and naïve you were. Clearly, you still are both of those things. His words spoke enough about that. You didn't want to be here as much as he did.

"I didn't want this," You finally said, the most coherent thought throughout this whole mess. "Any of this to happen. I just– I don't get it at all."

"Don't get what?"

"What I'm doing wrong," You sigh, lip quivering as tears dared to fall. This time, it wasn't because of medicine. You hoped it was. "I've trained for so long, I've tried my hardest. You might not think so but I have, I really have. But it seems like I'm making a mess of it all."

With each second that passed, the dam dared to break.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room, but this one scared you even more. A while ago, even if he didn't say a word, you knew how he felt about you. About your predicament.

But now? You had no clue. He could embrace you, comfort you, tell you that it's okay and he understood how you felt. You could've pushed his temper to his limits, he would scream, shout, yell, and kick you out of his penthouse.

"This doesn't have anything to do with your training," Like that, Miguel took a sharp pin to the atmosphere and popped it. "It has something to do with your mindset."

Now, you were the one to give him a confused glare. He sighs, eyes scanning over your sorry state once more,

"You did this, all this, to get into my strike force and to woo me whatnot." Before looking back up at you. Don't be mistaken, the harshness in his face is still there but from what he was saying, it didn't seem to be what you had originally thought.

"The reason why you're so stuck is because I shouldn't be the first goal in your mind, you should. Are you following?" You nod.

"Good. You need to understand, this job isn't about trying to meet a standard or getting someone to notice you. Self-improvement. It's all in the title. Self-improvement."

You shiver as his warm hand rests on your shoulder. "If you're already this hung up on trying to win me over, take a step back and think about who's approval matters more. Yours or mine?"

Yours.

It clicked. Everything fit into place and the dam broke, though that should have been more obvious to you when Miguel's face had started to look a little foggier.

At first, you had expected him to hand you a tissue or something but he didn't move from his place. Instead, resorting to rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder in a weird, seemingly unfitting gesture.

You swiftly wiped your tears away with your palm, stifling a sniffle as you ask yet another question.

"So, do you think I'll have a chance of getting in someday?"

A snarkly reply or scoff was what you had anticipated but what he just did was probably the most shocking turn of events looking back at the whole night.

He chuckled.

"I'll keep you in touch."

request rules here, masterlist here

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #lyla #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #spiderman #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fic #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #x female reader #oh god #i feel like i'm forgetting tags #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort

[utilitycaster]

You know what's interesting to me? For all people keep claiming at every juncture that perhaps Bells Hells will come around on the gods and see the harm they do (which, as discussed extensively, is, half the time, simply not intervening) not only have they never done so, but also they never quite cross the line into saying the party should join the Ruby Vanguard or aid them - and indeed, they defend against it - so what does this achieve? It feels like they're asking for a story in which the party stands idly by, which isn't much of a story nor, if I may connect this briefly to the real world, a political stance anyone should be proud of.

That's honestly the frustration with the gods and the "what if the Vanguard has a point" conversations in-game. What do we do then? Do we allow the organization that will murder anyone for pretty much any reason that loosely ties into their goals run rampant? The group that (perhaps unwittingly, but then again, Otohan's blades had that poison) disrupted magic world-wide, and caused people who had the misfortune to live at nexus points to be teleported (most, as commoners, without means of return). While also fomenting worldwide unrest?

Those were the arguments before the trip to Ruidus; with the reveal of the Vanguard's goals to invade Exandria, the situation becomes even more dire. Do you let the Imperium take over the planet?

And do the arguments against the gods even hold up? If Ludinus is so angry at them for the Calamity, what does it say that he destroyed Western Wildemount's first post-Calamity society for entirely selfish means? (What does it say about the validity of vengeance as a motivator?) What does it say that Laudna told Imogen she could always just live in a cottage quietly without issue before the solstice even happened? (Would this still be true if the Imperium controls the world?) What does it say that when faced with a furious, grieving party and the daughter she keeps telling herself was her reason for all of this, Liliana can't provide an answer to the question of what the gods have done other than that their followers will retaliate...for, you know, the Vanguard's endless list of murders. (That is how the Vanguard and Imperium tend to think, huh? "How dare your face get in the way of my boot; how dare you hit me back when I strike you.") She can't even provide a positive answer - why is Predathos better - other than "I feel it", even though Imogen and Fearne know firsthand that Predathos can provide artificial feelings of elation. Given all the harm Ludinus has done in pursuit, why isn't the conclusion "the gods should have crashed Aeor in such a way that the tech was unrecoverable?"

Even as early as the first real discussion on what the party should do, the fandom always stopped short of saying "no, Imogen's right, they should join up with the people who killed half the party," it was always "no, she didn't really mean it, she just was trying to connect with her mother." Well, she's connected with her mother, and at this point the party doesn't even care about the gods particularly (their only divinely-connected party member having died to prevent the Vanguard from killing all of them). So they will stop the Vanguard; as Ashton says, the means are unforgiveable. As Laudna says, it's not safe to bet on Predathos's apathy. As Imogen says, she's done running; the voice that she used to think of as a lifeline belongs to someone she doesn't trust. So I guess my question is: if they're stopping the people who are trying to kill the gods (and defense of the gods isn't remotely their personal motivation)...do you think the next phase of the campaign is Bells Hells personally killing the gods? Reconstructing the Aeor tech and hoping none of their allies notice? How does this end? Does your ideology ever get enacted? Or is this entirely moot and pointless and the story ends with Bells Hells saying "well, I'm really glad we stopped the people who [insert list of Vanguard atrocities from above]; none of us follow the gods or plan to, but honestly, the status quo we return to is preferable to whatever nightmare Ludinus had concocted in his violent quest for power and revenge"?

#i've got a lot to do today so I think I'm done posting but #cr spoilers #i called that this particular cohort of fans had empathy only for those like them and were terrified of player agency like. 18 mos ago #and i have never been proven wrong. zero analysis just a constant demand that everyone coddle their feelings and confirm their biases #literally will straight up fabricate lore and cry you're disrespecting a pretend person for not including it in your considerations #absolutely SHIT understanding of actual lore. utter incapacity to follow a logical throughline to its conclusion #it's like. wow. wonder why you're so focused on hypocrisy and you overreact to the word selfish #the reason they hate or fear orym (they say they don't...but that just means they want him to go to a reeducation camp instead of die) #is bc i think they are truly terrified of the idea that people can not just hold opinions that are against theirs but stand fast by them #easier to stan the villain because then they die and you can feel wronged and betrayed and wallow in a sense of continual victimhood #than to like a character who might last long enough to call you the idiot and asshole that you are #but it's also funny bc literally if orym weren't there in the latest convo the conclusion is the same. #ashton's had the same opinion of the vanguard the whole time (and it's not positive) but that's not under scrutiny #probably bc it doesn't allow people to be ghoulish in the most cringeworthy way possible

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part Two}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Two

After the raid on your village you are separated from your little sister and your betrothed Niklaus, not knowing if they are alive or dead. Holed up in a hut with Elijah during a raging snowstorm, you train and prepare to hunt down the Blackthornes. Meanwhile, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah have found safe haven in a nearby village, the leader Ansel provides all he can.

♡♡ Sorry for the wait on this one! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of death and violence, sprinkle of norse mythology... a little bit of smut in this part but I won't spoil who.

{Part One} {Part Three} {Part Four}

You woke to the sound of wind howling and the creaking of the roof beams, it was still dark and the fire had burned low, the chill was already creeping in.

You got up and went over to the window, looking out onto the white landscape, the snow was coming down fast, and you could barely see the tree line.

"Elijah," you nudged him awake, "the storm, it's bad."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching, "We won't be able to travel today." He said, moving to stoke the fire, "I'll go out and get more wood. We'll need it if we want to make it through the day."

He got dressed and grabbed his ax, "Stay here, I won't be long."

"I can help, we need food as well," you offered, grabbing your coat and boots.

"No, it's too dangerous, you could get lost, or worse," Elijah said.

"I'll be fine, I can handle myself," you argued, the memory of Einar's attack still fresh in your mind.

"It's not just about the danger, there's also the wolves, they'll be out hunting," Elijah explained, his tone serious.

"I am not a child anymore Elijah, you cannot boss me around, I can hunt and fight as well as any man," you huffed, crossing your arms.

"I know, I saw the way you fought off those raiders. You are a true warrior, worthy of the gods," Elijah smiled, his eyes shining with admiration.

"I'm also good at hunting rabbits," you said with a smile, picking up a old bow that was leaning against the wall.

Elijah sighed, you were stubborn like Niklaus, and he knew there was no point in arguing.

"Alright, but stay close, and keep an eye out for wolves, they're more cunning than you think," he warned.

"I can handle wolves," you smirked.

You bundled up and followed Elijah outside, the cold air nipping at your skin. You didn't go far before you found deer prints in the snow, they were fresh, and the tracks were deep.

"We're in luck, there's a herd nearby," Elijah whispered, "keep your bow ready, we'll try and take one down."

You nodded, following Elijah's lead. You stalked through the forest, your footsteps silent.

You saw a large stag ahead, his antlers standing tall and proud. He was beautiful and a part of you wished to leave it be, but you knew you had to feed the both of you.

Elijah made the signal and you let your arrow fly, it hit the stag in the neck, and he went down, the herd scattering.

The two of you spent the better part of the day tracking down and killing a couple of does and a few rabbits. It was hard work, but the thrill of the hunt and the success of a good kill made it worth it.

The snow was still falling, and you could see the storm was only getting worse. The game you hunted would last you a good while and you set to work preparing it, hanging the meat and skinning the hides.

Elijah worked beside you, helping you cut and dry the meat, his hands steady and sure. You were both silent, lost in your thoughts. You always wondered about Niklaus' mysterious older brother, the rest of the Mikaelson siblings you had grown up with, with the exception of Finn, who had always kept to himself. But Elijah was the enigma of the family. He was quiet and reserved, but there was a strength and determination in him, you could see it in his eyes.

You wondered why he had never married, why he was still alone. He was handsome and strong, any woman would be lucky to have him.

"Why haven't you taken a wife?" You blurted out, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah looked up, a small smile on his face, "Is that a question you ask everyone, or is it just me?"

You felt your face heat up, and you ducked your head, embarrassed, "Forgive me, I did not mean to offend."

"It's quite alright," Elijah chuckled, "I never found the right person, I suppose."

"You are a good man, any woman would be lucky to have you," you smiled, turning back to the venison you were cutting.

"Thank you, but I fear I am too boring for most women," Elijah laughed, his tone light and playful.

"Oh, I don't know about that, you seem quite interesting to me," you teased, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

"I am honored to have such a high opinion from you," Elijah smirked, his eyes shining with mischief.

You both finished the venison, and you hung the hides to dry, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping.

"We should go inside, the storm is getting worse," Elijah said, his brow furrowed in concern. "I worry our lovely horse may be a bit difficult to dig out in the morning."

You laughed and shook your head, "I'm sure she'll be just fine. She's a tough one."

The two of you walked back to the cabin, the wind whipping around you, the snow stinging your skin, you were freezing.

You hurried inside and started the fire, the warmth slowly returning to the small space. The wind was really howling outside, the trees swaying wildly, the sound of almost deafening.

"Do you think the others made it? Where would they have gone," you asked, unable to stop your mind from wandering.

"They'll be alright, they're smart and strong," Elijah reassured you, "they've probably made it to the neighboring village, the leader there knows my mother," he added, his voice quiet.

You could hear the worry in his voice, the unspoken fears, his siblings, your sister, were they safe, were they alive?

The two of you settled in for the night, the storm showing no signs of slowing. You huddled close to the fire, the blankets wrapped tightly around you, trying to keep warm. The cold had seeped into your bones, and Elijah noticed the way you trembled.

"Come here," he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close, his body pressed against yours.

You were stiff and hesitant, but the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace made you relax, the tension slowly melting away.

"It's not proper, us being this close," you whispered, your cheeks flushing.

"I'm not the one who has to worry about being proper," he joked, his breath tickling your ear, "besides, we're not doing anything wrong, just sharing our body heat,"

You giggled, his words easing your nerves, "I suppose you're right,"

The two of you sat like that for a while, the fire crackling and the wind howling, the sounds of the storm filling the room.

"When this storm breaks we should make for the coast," Elijah said, breaking the silence, his hand causally rubbing your arm, the heat of his touch causing strange sensations within you.

"Why not the village? Where the rest could be?" You asked, looking up at him, his face illuminated by the fire.

"The Blackthornes will take their thralls to the coast, to ship them off and sell them. They're brutal, but smart, they'll want to get rid of them as quickly as possible, before word gets out," Elijah explained, his voice grim.

"Gerda.. She's just a child," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes, the thought of your baby sister being sold like cattle making you sick.

"Henrik will protect her the best he can, he has a warriors heart," Elijah said, his voice cracking a bit at the thought of his baby brother. He was only ten summers and had barely learned to fight.

You nodded, the tears flowing freely now, "I- I can't lose them. I can't lose her,"

Elijah pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, his hands stroking your hair, "We'll find them, we'll save them. I swear it on the gods."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, the warmth of the fire and the closeness of his body providing a small measure of comfort. You feared that maybe you were the only two left alive, that everyone else had perished in the raid.

"What if we don't find them, what if we're too late," you whispered, your voice shaking, the weight of the situation weighing heavily on you.

"Then we will avenge them," Elijah said, his tone solemn, "we will make those bastards pay for what they've done."

You nodded, staring into the flames, the drums of war beating in your mind. You would fight until the last drop of blood, for your people, for your family.

In the following weeks Elijah took it upon himself to train you to fight.

The two of you trained every day, honing your skills and pushing each other to the limits.

Elijah was a relentless and patient teacher, never letting up, always demanding more. And you were a willing student, eager to learn, and determined to become stronger, faster, better.

You spent countless hours sparring, practicing defense, you had an affinity for wielding two axes, the blades swift and deadly in your hands.

The two of you were well suited as a fighting duo, your strengths complimenting each other, your weaknesses covering for the other.

"Keep your arms up, higher, good," Elijah encouraged as the two of you went through a series of drills, "now, again,"

The two of you circled each other, your axes ready. You lunged, swinging the axe, the blade narrowly missing Elijah's chest. He smiled and brought his shield up, blocking the blow, the sound of metal on wood echoing through the clearing.

"Better," he said, "you're quick, and you have the element of surprise on your side, but you must remember, no matter how good you are, there will always be someone better."

"Like you?" you smirked.

"Maybe a little," Elijah chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He stepped forward and swung his axe, the blade singing through the air, you ducked and rolled, coming up behind him to strike him. But he was faster, he flipped you on your back, the blade of his axe pressed against your throat, "Never underestimate your opponent,"

You looked up at him, his eyes locked on yours, his face flushed from the exercise, his breath hot against your skin, "I understand," you whispered, your pulse racing.

You thought about what his lips would feel like against yours, his body pressing you into the soft ground. You had to admit you had become more than attracted to him, he was strong, brave, and smart, he had a way of drawing you in, you had never quite experienced it before, not even with Niklaus.

You wondered if he felt the same, if he ever thought of you, of what it would be like to kiss you, to touch you.

"Do you?," he asked, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, the blade still pressed against your neck, "Yes, I do,"

"Good," he said, his voice a whisper, his eyes full of desire.

He stood and held out his hand, helping you to your feet. You both stood there for a moment, your bodies dangerously close, the tension between you growing thick.

You wanted him, and you could tell he wanted you too. But it was wrong, you were supposed to be his sister-in-law, it was forbidden, taboo.

You were still a maiden, promised to Niklaus. But you knew deep down you did not love him, not like Elijah. You didn't know why the gods cursed you with such feelings, with such a longing for the brother of the man you were promised to.

"Elijah, I-" You started, your voice shaky, the words dying on your tongue.

"Let's go inside, the air is too cold," Elijah said, his voice gentle.

"Y-yes," you nodded, following him inside.

Your heart was racing, your mind a mess, you couldn't believe the things you were feeling, the desires you had. It went against everything you had been taught, it was sinful, it was wrong.

And yet, you could not deny it. You were drawn to him, you longed for his touch, his kiss, his body pressed against yours. You wanted to do things with him that husband and wife do, forbidden things.

But the gods were watching, and they did not take kindly to those who disobeyed their laws. You could not give in to your desires, you had to remain strong, pure, chaste.

Still, you wondered if the gods had a plan for the two of you, if maybe they had destined you to be together. Maybe the gods wanted you to be happy, to have true love in your life.

You watched Elijah stoke the fire, cooking a rabbit over the flames, the scent of it making your stomach growl. You sat on the floor, your knees pulled to your chest, the blanket wrapped tightly around you, a barrier between the two of you.

"How did you know about this place?" You asked, referring to the cabin.

"My brothers and I built it years ago," he said, "We came here to get away, to have some time to ourselves. We would camp and hunt, it was our escape from... the pressures of being a son of a jarl," he added, a wistful smile on his face.

"I heard that Mikael could be a difficult man," you said, knowing that was an understatement.

Elijah didn't say anything, just handed you a piece of the cooked rabbit, his hand brushing against yours. You ate in silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound.

"He could be... cruel," Elijah said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes distant, like he was lost in a memory, "there are secrets in my family, things that no one speaks of,"

"Secrets?" You asked, your curiosity piqued.

"Things I cannot talk about," he said, his jaw set, his gaze dark.

You didn't want to press the matter, whatever the secrets were, they were clearly painful for him, you didn't want to force him to relive them.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, reaching out and placing your hand on his.

He looked at you, his expression softening, a sad smile playing on his lips, "It's okay, it's in the past now. What matters is the future, what we do to honor the ones we lost, to protect those who are still with us."

You nodded, his words resonating deep within you, "You're right, we must not dwell on the past, we must focus on the future, on those we love,"

Elijah smiled, his hand squeezing yours, "Yes, the future is all that matters,"

The two of you finished your meal, the silence no longer tense, but comfortable. You helped him clean up and prepare the space for the night, the storm finally letting up.

You got ready for bed, washing yourself in the basin and slipping into a simple linen tunic.

Elijah did the same, and you could not help but admire his body, his lean muscles, his skin smooth and tanned from the sun. You usually looked away, to give him privacy like he did for you, but you were drawn to him, your eyes taking in every inch of him.

He caught you looking and you quickly turned away, your face burning. He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"Sorry, I was just-" you mumbled, embarrassed.

"Goodnight, y/n. Come dawn we will start tracking the Blackthornes," he said, the playfulness in his voice gone, replaced by the hardened resolve of a warrior.

"Goodnight, Elijah," you replied, curling up on the pallet, the warmth of the fire lulling you to sleep.

The smell of herbs and spices filled the air as Tatia mixed some in a bowl, the healer humming quietly to herself. The young woman was a skilled healer and well-respected in her village.

"There, this should help ease your pain," Tatia smiled at Rebekah, handing her the bowl, the liquid inside warm and soothing.

"Thank you," Rebekah smiled weakly, bringing the bowl to her lips. She winced as she drank, the scar on her face throbbing with pain.

"Careful now," Tatia said softly, "that elixir is strong. You'll want to go slow and make sure you're keeping it down,"

Rebekah nodded and drank slower, the warmth of the brew filling her body and dulling the pain.

Niklaus sat beside Kol, who was sleeping on a cot in the healer's hut, his body bruised and battered from the fight with the Blackthorne raiders. Tatia's eyes met Niklaus', he couldn't help but feel a tingle of warmth spread across his body as he watched the healer's eyes linger on his, there was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel seen, appreciated, as if she could see his pain and anger.

Tatia smiled gently and reached out to touch Niklaus' hand, the simple gesture making his breath catch in his throat, "you have the strength of Odin," she whispered, her voice like a song, "you saved them both from those brutes,"

Niklaus looked up at the woman, her face beautiful, her eyes kind and understanding.

"I-" Niklaus stammered, "I had to, they are my family." He had never felt so at a loss for words before, and he struggled to find the words to describe the pain he was feeling.

"Let me take a look at you," Tatia said gently, "you look like you could use a healing touch yourself,"

Niklaus hesitated, still overwhelmed by the woman's closeness and the connection he felt. Tatia sensed his unease and took his hand, her skin warm against his. "You must be at your full strength for the war to come." She smiled at him and he found himself smiling back, despite the ache in his body.

Tatia motioned for Niklaus to lay down, she pulled up his tunic, taking a look at the wound on his side, the flesh raw and bruised, "It's not too bad," she said softly, her hands gentle as they cleaned and bandaged the wound, "it will become just another scar for you to boast to your wife about," she teased. Niklaus couldn't help but chuckle at her words, a feeling of warmth spreading through him at her touch.

He felt a wave of guilt at the thought of you, his future wife. He wondered how you were doing, if you were safe, if he would ever see you again. Tatia must have sensed his worry, she looked up at him, her eyes soft. "She is strong and fierce, and I am certain she will come back to you,"

Niklaus swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. He prayed that Elijah had saved you, that the two of you were somewhere safe, weathering the storm together.

He sighed and nodded, "I know, but it doesn't stop the worry and pain from eating away at me."

"I understand," Tatia said, her fingers tracing along Niklaus' jaw, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through his body, "the bond of family is strong and often the most painful."

Tatia continued her work, cleaning and tending to Niklaus' wounds, the gentle touch of her hands making him feel safe and protected.

"You should speak to our leader, Ansel, when you're feeling better," Tatia said after she finished, "I know he will be interested in meeting you. He will want to hear your story and your plans."

Niklaus nodded, he couldn't help but notice how the young healer's eyes lingered on him as she spoke. "I will, thank you Tatia, you have been more than kind," he said.

"Of course," Tatia said, giving Niklaus one last smile, "you're a special guest here. I knew your mother quite well,"

Tatia's words took Niklaus by surprise, "You did?"

"Aye," Tatia nodded, suddenly avoiding Niklaus gaze, she stood and went to check on Rebekah who had fallen asleep in a chair, the pain of the healing draught helping her rest.

Niklaus stared at her for a moment, wanting to ask more, but deciding to let it go. The young healer was right, he was here on important business, he couldn't afford to let his emotions get in the way. He had to be focused and clear-headed if he was to get his revenge on the Blackthornes. He would need the support of Ansel and his men if he were to succeed.

Kol began to stir, he slowly opened his eyes, groaning with pain as he tried to sit up.

"Careful, Kol," Tatia said softly, placing her hand gently on Kol's arm, "you need to rest,"

"What happened?" Kol said, his voice raspy, he looked around the room, his gaze falling on Rebekah, who was asleep on the chair near the fire, "where Niklaus?"

"I'm here, little brother," Niklaus said, coming to sit by the edge of the bed, "how do you feel?"

"I've been better," Kol chuckled weakly, "I feel like a herd of wild boars trampled over me," he shifted in the bed and winced, Tatia moved quickly to help him get comfortable, the young man gritting his teeth through the pain.

"Try not to move too much, Kol," Tatia said softly, her gaze lingering on him, "your wounds are still fresh."

"Aye," Kol breathed out, the young man's face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, his brow furrowed in pain, "how long have I been out?"

"Two days," Niklaus said, his voice low, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he thought of you, his future bride. He wondered where you were, if you were safe, if Elijah had found you.

"Where is y/n? Elijah?" Kol asked, his voice strained, his eyes filled with worry.

"I don't know," Niklaus said, his voice hoarse, his throat thick with emotion. He swallowed hard and rubbed his temples, the pain of his injuries and his worry for you, his brother, and sister, weighing heavy on him.

Tatia placed a cool cloth on Kol's head, her touch gentle, soothing, "have faith," she whispered, "the gods have not forsaken them."

"Aye," Niklaus said, his gaze fixed on the flames of the hearth, "I must go speak with Ansel,"

Tatia nodded and Niklaus stood, his body aching, his heart heavy. He walked out into the village, the storm having passed, the skies clear and blue.

The villagers were busy repairing their homes, patching roofs and fixing doors, the sounds of axes chopping wood and the shouts of men filling the air. He headed towards the longhouse, his heart racing, he felt a knot in his stomach as he thought of what he was about to do.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar smells of the hall greeting him, ale, meat, and smoke. But it wasn't the same, there was a heaviness to the air, a sadness that he couldn't shake.

Ansel sat at the table, he was sharpening his sword, his expression hard, the man's eyes dark with anger and grief. He looked up as Niklaus approached, his gaze fixed on him, a hint of surprise in his face, "Niklaus Mikaelson, the gods have truly blessed me today," he stood and gripped Niklaus' arm in a warrior's greeting, "I'm sorry for the loss of your loved ones, I knew your mother well. May she rest with the gods in Valhalla,"

"Thank you, Jarl Ansel, it is an honor to meet you," Niklaus said, returning the grip, the man's strength taking him by surprise, "and the gods are merciful. They brought me here, to your village."

Ansel smiled and gestured for him to sit, the older man poured two cups of ale and handed one to Niklaus, "To the gods," he said, raising his cup.

"To the gods," Niklaus repeated, his gaze fixed on the man before him.

"My scouts have informed me that the Blackthornes have been raiding across the land," Ansel said, his voice low, "rounding up our young to sell into slavery."

Niklaus gripped his cup tighter, his knuckles white, "Aye," he nodded, "they took my little brother Henrik and my near sister-in-law Gerda,"

"They are foul creatures," Ansel spat, "they have no honor, no respect for the old ways."

"That's why I've come to you," Niklaus said, his voice firm, "I've come to seek your help in finding them, in saving the people they have taken."

Ansel gave him a sympathetic look, "You have my sympathies, but I cannot take on the Blackthornes," he shook his head, his jaw set, "I need my men here to protect my people,"

Niklaus swallowed hard, he had expected this answer, he felt rage bubbling within him, "I will not stand idly by while those bastards take more people from their families,"

Ansel's expression hardened, "it is the will of the gods, we must accept it,"

"No," Niklaus shook his head, his anger rising, "I will not accept that." He stood, his fists clenched, his heart racing, "I will not accept the gods abandoning us. I will not accept that they have given up on us,"

"Niklaus," Ansel warned, "I am your elder, and the Jarl of this village. You will show me the respect I deserve,"

"Respect?" Niklaus spat, his face twisted with anger, "you're nothing but a coward. You're content to sit here, in your hall, surrounded by your men. But you won't go out and fight."

"It's more complicated than that son," Ansel said, his voice steady, his eyes cold.

"Don't call me son," Niklaus growled, "you're not my father, you're nothing to me."

Ansel chuckled and shook his head, "You remind me so much of your mother. She was just as stubborn and foolish,"

Niklaus took a deep breath, calming himself, he wanted to strike at Ansel. But he thought of Rebekah and Kol, they needed him, he couldn't afford to lose control, not now, not when he was so close to getting the help he needed.

"If you will not help me," Niklaus said, his voice low and dangerous, "then I will find the Blackthornes myself,"

Ansel sighed and rubbed his temples, his jaw set, his expression grim, "I will give you any supplies you may need, and you and your family are welcome to stay here, as long as you need."

Niklaus clenched his fists, he was torn between wanting to accept the man's offer and wanting to strike him down, to make him feel the pain of losing someone.

"I appreciate the offer," Niklaus said, his voice strained, "I wish you could do more for me, but I will take what I can get."

"The gods are not always clear in their will, Niklaus," Ansel said, his voice low and steady, "but I have my people to look out for. Perhaps you will be a Jarl one day, and then you will understand,"

"Perhaps," Niklaus said, the man's words ringing in his head, he turned and left the hall, the anger inside him simmering.

He needed to find you, to find Elijah, to save Henrik and Gerda. Every god there ever was could stand against him for all be cared, he would drag his broken body through the gates of the underworld to save those he loved.

Tatia insisted that Niklaus heal before setting out to find the Blackthornes. She cared for him and his family, ensuring that they had everything they needed.

She took a keen interest in him, her eyes following him, her gaze lingering on him, her touch sending jolts of warmth through his body.

The night before he set off, he sat in her hut, nursing a cup of ale, lost in his thoughts. Tatia hummed softly has she shaved the sides of his head, the young woman's hands deft and sure, the only sounds were the blade and the crackle of the fire.

"Where will you go in search for them?" Tatia asked, her voice low, as she ran the blade along his scalp.

"The coast, I've heard rumors that the Blackthornes are selling slaves in the fishing market there,"

Tatia nodded, "it's a dangerous place, and not a good fate for any young child,"

"I have to try," Niklaus said, his voice heavy with emotion, his throat tight, his chest aching, the pain of losing his parents and brother still raw, the grief weighing on him.

"Of course," Tatia whispered, her voice like a song, her hands gentle as she ran them over his head, checking for any missed patches of hair. She braided the long strip of hair that remained on top, her touch gentle, comforting, "the gods will guide you, Niklaus."

Niklaus nodded, her words echoing in his head. He had always been a devout man, believing in the will of the gods, but lately, he felt lost, adrift, as if the gods had abandoned him, his family, his village.

"Why did the gods allow the Blackthornes to destroy my village?" He whispered, his voice hoarse, the pain and rage within him threatening to overwhelm him, "why did they let my parents die?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, Niklaus," Tatia said, her voice soft, understanding, "they are not always clear in their will, we must trust them, and have faith that they have a plan."

She finished braiding, her hands sliding over his shoulders, the touch making his heart race. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his mind swirling, his emotions churning. The young healer had a calming effect on him, the tension leaving his body, the rage and pain subsiding, at least for a moment.

She kissed the side of his head, her lips soft, warm, her scent intoxicating, a mixture of herbs and spices. She sat beside him, her hand on his arm, her eyes filled with concern, "You should rest," she said softly, "you have a long journey ahead of you."

Niklaus looked into her dark eyes, she was a singular beauty, one that he could easily lose himself in. He had felt a connection with her since the first moment he saw her, his soul calling out to her, begging him to surrender, to lose himself in her. But he knew he couldn't, he had made a promise, he had a duty to fulfill, he was to marry you.

But you could be dead, his mind whispered. And even if you weren't, there were no guarantees that he would find you, or that you would survive the journey.

And he could die, tomorrow or the next day, on the road, at the hands of the Blackthornes. The world was a dangerous place, and death was always around the corner.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his heart hammering in his chest. He pressed his lips against hers, his hands cupping her face, the kiss deepening, the two of them melting into each other.

Niklaus felt a surge of lust, his body aching for her, the desire coursing through him, his mind spinning. He knew this was wrong, that he was betraying you, his future wife, but in this moment, he didn't care. All he wanted was her.

He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes burning into hers. His hands went to her waist, lifting her onto his lap, his cock hardening, pressing against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him, her lips warm and soft.

She rocked her hips against his, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh, his need for her overwhelming him.

"Lay with me, before I ride off to Valhalla," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes filled with desire. Her hand trailing down his chest, his body tensing at her touch, his blood burning for her.

He picked her up and carried her to her bed, the two of them falling onto the soft furs. Their bodies entwined, the passion and heat between them consuming them.

The guilt and shame Niklaus had felt earlier disappeared as Tatia moaned beneath him, her skin slick with sweat, her body quivering as he brought her to climax.

He kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers, the taste of her, the feeling of her body, soft and yielding, thoughts of you long forgotten.

{Part One} {Part Three} {Part Four}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #vikings au #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[augustghosts]

The Best Thank you

Tommy Miller x fem!reader

On that night in 2003, Tommy calls his girlfriend instead of Joel. 

(let's pretend the literal apocalypse doesn’t happen for this one, ok?) 

 I started writing this like a week ago before ep 6 and after seeing ep 6 I haven't been able to stop thinking about tommy fucking miller. Anyways, this ends kind of abruptly because i’m bad at endings lol. And this is the worst title ever, I couldn't think of one. Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: 18+ so minors dni pls, not proofread so lmk if u spot any mistakes lmao. Lots of pet names. Established relationship, ppl in love n all that. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Tommy defo whimpers btw.

Word count: 3.1k

“Shit!” She almost rolled her eyes at herself as she did the classic scramble around the bed in the dark for her phone. After a few seconds she grasps it, her eyes squinting as she looks over a number she doesn’t recognise. She considers not answering, it is midnight. But calls this late are usually important, right? Fuck it. 

“Hello?” She’s hesitant, but the sigh she lets out makes it sound like she’s annoyed. Tommy is nervous, he’s actually fucking nervous. After no answer from Joel, he didn’t know what else to do. He was well and truly fucked. He's leaning against a cold wall, the payphone is heavy in his hand - not as heavy as the stare the officer who’s watching him is giving him. He looks down at his boots instead and squeezes his eyes shut before replying. The sound of her voice immediately helped his situation. 

“Hey, honey!” He sounds a little too cheery, he honestly cringes at himself. He can’t tell if its the pure fucking anxiety he’s feeling because of this phone call or the alcohol. 

“Tommy? What’s wrong?” She sussed him out immediately, the sounds of his voice initially putting her at ease before she sensed the edge in it. God, he thinks, she’s so damn smart. And she knows him so well. He catches himself smiling at the just the thought of her, until he remembers where the fuck he is. 

“Yeah. I’m, uh - I'm okay.” Did he just stutter? This is one of those times he wished she didn’t have this kind of effect on him. 

“Okay?” She beckons him to continue, leaning over to her nightstand to flick the light on. Her room is illuminated revealing a pair of Tommy’s shoes by her door and some clothes he’d left there still thrown over the back of her chair. 

“Look, I'm - um.” Fuck, Tommy. Just say it. “I’m in jail.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a pause that’s a little too long and makes him think she’d hung up. He takes the phone away from his ear to glance at it, as if that would help.  Her voice is small when it finally comes through. “What?” 

“Did you actually not hear me or do you just want me to say it again?” He tries to joke. 

“Say it again.” Her voice is stern, it immediately shuts him down. 

“I’m in jail.” He sighs. 

There’s another pause before she asks: “Are you okay?”

His heart squeezes in his chest. He had expected a million sighs, a telling off or maybe even a dial tone ringing in his ear telling him she’d hung up on him. But no, of course she’s not like that. He knows that - she’s better than anyone he’d ever met. Of course his beautiful girl with her beautiful heart, who had just been woken up at midnight, was going to ask him if he was okay. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice is uncharacteristically small. 

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know. It's- you know I was at the bar and one of my buddies got into a fight and I was just helping him out. I think maybe I knocked the guy out, I don't know.” He does know. He did knock the guy out and honestly, he was pretty proud of it. But he doesn’t want to tell her that. 

“Oh, okay.” Honestly, she’s confused. Not sure why he was calling her, didn’t he have a brother? 

“Anyway, look baby, I'm sorry but I need you to help me out.” 

“How?” She asks. She’s sitting up now, and suddenly she doesn’t feel tired anymore. 

He sighs again, he really doesn’t want to be doing this. “Darlin’, I really am sorry but I need you to bail me out.” 

She’s silent again for a second, “Now?” 

“Yeah, it’s friday. If I don't get out tonight I'll be here all weekend.” He’s speaking faster now, he sounds like he’s panicking. Shit, is she really gonna do this? Of course she is. She sighs as she stands up. Tommy hears it and it makes his chest squeeze again, guilt flooding him as he speaks. “Please. I’m sorry.” 

“Which jail?” She asks - he tells her. A feeling of relief almost overtakes the guilt as he hears her shuffling around on the other end. 

“Okay.” She says, slipping her shoes on. “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Shit, thank you sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. She doesn’t respond - the line goes dead. Honestly, he feels like he’s getting mixed signals. Was she mad? Was she upset? He couldn’t tell. Fuck Joel for not answering.

Half an hour later she’s pulling up in front of the station. Her heart is beating faster than ever, maybe she should have left him here over the weekend. Taught him a damn lesson. She knows she doesn’t mean that, but she seriously considers it as she gets out of her car. The place is weirdly empty for a Friday night, a few people sitting on chairs in front of the desk. Only two people sitting behind said desk, she had expected it to be a lot crazier. Maybe the crazy is happening where Tommy is, somewhere in the back. In just a few minutes after a conversation at the desk Tommy is walking towards her. He looks more nervous than she’s ever seen him. His usual cocky and confident demeanor, which she loves so much, has been replaced by guilt and embarrassment. She stands with her arms crossed as she waits, watching as he’s handed back his phone and wallet. 

“Hey.” He says as he turns to her, he almost wishes he could go back inside. 

“Hi.” She replies, she turns and leaves. He follows, already going through an apology speech in his head. When they get outside she stops by her car, turning to face him. 

“Baby, look, I'm sorry. I-” He starts his speech but is cut off by her soft hands grasping his face. Her hands are warm on his cheeks and he brings his own hand up to rest on top of hers. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. He nods, his gorgeous brown eyes wide as he anticipates what she’s going to do next. She surprises him by leaning up to kiss him, pulling his head down to meet her lips. He sighs as she kisses him softly, his hands wrap around her middle - he pulls her as close as he can. He had been contemplating tonight being the end of this, all his worries that he had disappointed her melting away as he felt her smile against his lips. 

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbled against his skin as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He mirrored the grin on her face as he pulled away from her, she was still holding his face lovingly. 

“I know.” He smirked. Shit, even after all this - a night of drinking, an apparent bar fight and a few hours in jail, he still looked gorgeous. 

“So, am I taking you home or?” She trailed off, stepping away from him and rounding her car to the drivers side. 

“Only if you’re coming with me.” 

“We’ll go to mine then. I have work in the morning.” She says, and that guilty feeling almost returns, but when he sees the smirk on her face, he mirrors it with the same amount of enthusiasm. 

When they enter her apartment, Tommy suddenly isn’t as nervous anymore. Alcohol still running through his veins and excited over the thought of getting to spend the night with his girl instead of in a fucking cell. She’s slipping her shoes off and placing her keys down on the shelf beside the door when he approaches her from behind, wrapping his arms around her - chin on her shoulder. 

“You’re my goddamn hero.” He jokes, mumbling the words against her skin as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Sounds like you were the hero tonight.” She whispers back, placing her hands over his and leaning back into him. He’s pressing kisses along her neck as he responds. 

“Yeah, and i got fuckin’ arrested for it.” 

She laughs loudly, turning in his arms to kiss him again. More passionately and messily than in front of the police station. His hands grip her hips tighter, one traveling down to knead at her ass. Her own hands push his button up off of his shoulders, leaving him in just his white shirt. God, he looked good today. She can feel his cock through the front of his jeans as his hand on her ass pulls her forwards into him.

“I gotta admit,” She pulls away from him, his mouth tries to follow hers but she grasps his hand, leading him to her room. “It is kinda sexy, Thinking about you winning a fight.” 

She decides that maybe he deserves a bit of a show after the night he’s had. He’s standing in the doorway watching her, his trademark smirk plastered onto his face as she slowly takes her shirt off - Tommy’s shirt, actually. Already braless from being woken up at midnight, the jacket she had thrown on top of his shirt has already been abandoned at the door. He couldn’t lie about noticing her nipples through her shirt as she’d taken the coat off earlier. He makes a show of crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, the smirk now turned into a grin. One that she's mirroring as she unbuttons her jeans and slowly slides them down her legs. His eyes follow, once they trail over her hips and legs he decides he can’t take it anymore. Having her standing in front of him in nothing but panties is not how he thought this night was going to end. 

“Fuck, baby.” His voice is noticeably deeper now as he comes to her, gripping her hips so she's against him. Her bare chest pressed against his clothed one. “I’m gonna give you the best thank you you’ve ever had.” 

And with that, he crouches down to haul her up into his arms - her legs wrapping around his waist as she laughs above him. He presses a quick kiss to her lips before dropping her down onto the bed. It’s his turn to put on a show now as he rids himself of his own shirt. He kneels in front of her and presses a kiss to her ankle before grabbing them both and using them to haul her towards the end of the bed. His mouth is inches from her pussy and she sighs as she feels him pressing kisses up her legs. He’s always been a tease, he lives for the sounds she makes. He loves to see her squirm. And squirm she does as he begins to slowly suck and bite the skin on her thighs. 

“Tommy.” She sighs his name and tugs on his hair and he swears his cock twitches in his jeans. “Please touch me.” Fuck, the effect she has on him is insane. He wants nothing more than to rip the denim off of his legs and fuck her into the matress, but he knows what she needs. And he will always give it to her. He presses one last kiss to her stomach before sliding her panties down her legs and throwing them behind him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He whispers, just inches away from where she needs him. He used his thumbs to part her lips, a groan leaving his lips as he leaned in and dragged his warm tongue down the length of her. She sighed above him, her hands still holding onto his hair. He focuses on her clit, his tongue drawing tight circles over the nub. After a couple of strokes he closed his mouth around it, sucking gently. 

“Shit, Tommy.” One of her legs lifted around his shoulder, her heel pushing him further towards her. He smiled against her, he loved pleasing her. She always thought about how lucky she had gotten with Tommy.  A man who knows what he’s doing, and loves to do it. After playing with her clit for as long as she could take he pulled away. A beautiful smile on his face as he watched her squirm, her hands grasping his shoulders trying to push him back down. 

“You wanna come for me, gorgeous?” He asked, breathless. 

“Please.” She nods enthusiastically, just as breathless as him. “Please make me come!”

“Whatever you want princess.” He smirks, bringing his mouth back down to her pussy. His lips closed around her clit once more. He brings a hand up underneath his mouth, a single finger tracing her entrance before pushing inside. He moans against her when he feels how wet she is, adding another finger. She’s whining above him, moaning his name and pulling on his hair and he thinks about how he could definitely come like this. Shit, he has before. He fucks her with his fingers exactly the way he knows she likes, his tongue continuing to dance on her clit until she closes her thighs around his head. 

“Oh fuck, Tommy!” She moans loudly, neither of them have time to think about her neighbors right now. “I’m gonna come.” 

He continues what he’s doing as she grips harder on his hair, her legs closing tightly around his shoulders as she arches her back as she comes. He watches her face, she always looks so gorgeous like this. He fucking loves it. He fucking loves her. He keeps going until she's giggling breathlessly and pushing him away. He sits up, kneeling at the bottom of the bed between her legs, pressing one last kiss to her thigh before standing up and ridding himself of his jeans. She whimpers when she sees just how hard he is. He looks gorgeous as he stands above her, his cock flushed and leaking. He climbs on top of her to kiss her messily, her wetness still around his mouth as he pushes his tongue inside of hers. 

“How do you want me?” She whispers against his lips. 

“Fuck, turn around sweetheart.” He’s grinning at her as she follows his instructions. Turning around onto her stomach and leaning on her elbows. He takes a hold of her hips, pulling her ass up so he can get a view of her dripping pussy. “God I can't wait to fill you up, you ready for me?” 

“I’m always ready for you.” She smiles at him over her shoulder. He groans at her words, realizing he cant wait any longer, he takes a hold of his throbbing cock and lines himself up to her glistening hole. They both moan as he pushes in, her warm walls welcoming him as they squeeze him in. 

“So fuckin’ tight.” He whimpers as he begins to set a pace. “God, i fuckin’ love your pussy.” 

She feels like his words make her more wet, if that's even possible. 

“I love your cock, Tommy.” She moans as he fucks her slowly, holding himself back. He wants to enjoy her, but her heavenly cunt makes it so difficult. “Please, make me feel good.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I'm gonna.” He says through gritted teeth. He always does, but she loves to tease him. And she knows how much he loves to hear her beg for him. He continues to fuck her like this, picking up his pace eventually when she begins to whine for him to go faster. She breathes his name as his cock begins hitting just the right spot, her hands tightening around the bedsheets - needing something to hold on to. Her chest pressed up against the bedsheets, her body being thrust forward as Tommy fucks into her, adds deliciously to the stimulation. He knows her so well, he can feel when she's getting close. Her silky walls tighten around him, her hands clenching and unclenching as her back arches more. Her whines of his name becoming higher in pitch. He’s close too, so with a smack to her ass that makes her yelp he pulls out. She doesn’t have time to process as he turns her over climbing over her again to kiss her. She moans against his mouth, his soft lips and tongue mixing with her own. Her legs wrap around his body as he pushes into her again. Immediately setting a bruising pace, both of them too close to care. 

“You gonna come for me baby? Yeah?” He eggs her on as she nods, desperately. “Come on baby come around my cock. Let me feel it.” 

The sight of her reaching down to play with her clit as she comes undone beneath him is enough to do it for him. 

“Where do you want it?” He hisses. He knows the answer, but he always asks anyway. 

“Come inside me Tommy. I wanna feel you.” He practically whimpers her name as he empties inside of her. She pulls his face down towards her again, wanting to hold him close. He bites into her shoulder as she whimpers in his ear, still coming down from her own high. Both of them enjoying the feeling of him filling her pussy up. 

“Holy shit.” She murmurs. A drowsy smile on her face as she plays with his hair until he eventually lifts his head from her shoulder. He laughs before pressing a kiss to her cheek. He sits up, pulling out of her and biting the inside of his cheek as he watches his come drip out of her. 

“I love you.” She says, reaching for him again. 

“I love you more.” He smiles as she pulls him down for a kiss. “You gotta sleep, not long until you need to get up for work.” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, still trying out her breath. She stands up to make her way to the bathroom and stops at the door to say: “A long night of being a hero.” She hears him laugh from the bed as she shuts the bathroom door, her legs still slightly wobbly and tingling. He definitely kept his promise, the best damn thank you she’d ever had. 

#Tommy miller #hbo tommy miller #tlou #the last of us #hbo the last of us #Tommy miller fic #Tommy miller x reader #Tommy miller x fem reader #Tommy miller smut #Gabriel luna #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #smut

[allbark-no-bite]

i would’ve married you.

icemav x reader (wc. 2.4k)

summary: It had always been Maverick. It had been Maverick long before you met Ice and would continue to be Maverick until he took his last breath.

warnings: severe angst, mentions of cancer, vomiting, character death

authors note: for all of my followers, i know this isn’t something that i would usually post but i’m immensely proud of it. this is for all of my Icemav Topgun people out there

————————————————————————

You watch as he cinches his belt one, two, five times. But you didn't have to watch him dress to know how much weight he had lost. The gauntness of his cheekbones could have told you that. He could have told you that. But he doesn't. And neither of you talk about it.

He just trudges tiredly out of the bedroom, running a hand through his frosty hair as he passes through the door frame. It seemed as though out of all the loss you had expected to come along with chemo, both the tumor and his hair were insistent upon staying.

Tom had the kind of hair that one would expect a man aging into his thirties to have: still relatively thick, however dulling in color, and ever threatening to see it's final days. Except it had looked like this for the past ten years. So had you expected the chemo to finally push the bleach damaged strands over the edge? Yes. Were you surprised when it didn't? No.

Along with his steel cut jawline and the soft roundness that his high cheekbones had given his face, it worked for him. He seemed to be perpetually never aging, stuck between a spry young cadet and weathered admiral.

"Where are you going? You have an appointment today." You watch, unamused and arms crossed as he moves through the house, gathering his things.

"No, I have to go into the office today. I'm already behind on too much paperwork," he corrects, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Tom has never been a coffee person, but these days he's totaling a minimum of two cups a day. That's not counting whatever he has while at work. It splashes onto the counter in his haste, but either he's moving too fluidly to notice or just doesn't care.

Normally his carelessness would have ticked you off, and you'd tell him off for the mess, tired of having to mother a grown man in his own home, but you're trying. Trying to be more gentle—be more patient. There is this tremendously guilty feeling that occurs when you yell at someone with cancer. Cancer. You hardly ever even say the word aloud.

It had started out as a persistent ear ache. Something he had chalked up to years of flying. He took antibiotics and that seemed to take care of the pain for a while. Then came the difficulty swallowing, followed by swollen lymph nodes, and finally the cough. It was the cough that he couldn't manage to shake.

"You can't keep missing treatments," you say, even though he knows. Sometimes you think it's worse that he's well versed about his condition. The first few weeks after finding out, he would come home, shower, and spend hours reading books that detailed symptoms and various treatments. Those hours bled into long anxious nights where the bedside lamp never turned off and neither of yourselves slept.

He knows what every symptom means; when it's good, when it's really bad.

Ice is already almost out the door, tugging on a coat that he snatched from god knows where, his combat boots shoved on haphazardly on his feet. His blonde hair is mushed from sleep, cowlicked on one side and only serving to add to his disheveled state. It's longer now, longer than it has been in a while. He'd always kept his hair cropped short in the time that you had known him, but now it was just long enough to stick out over his ears and brush the back of his neck.

"I agreed to do this shit as long as it didn't interfere with anything. It worked for a while but now I'm done. You knew the agreement."

The agreement. The agreement that you and Ice had settled on nearly ten months prior, back when he was just starting chemo—what seemed like a lifetime ago.

He hadn't wanted to undergo treatment. Hadn't wanted to endure the debilitating side effects that would come as a result. The doctors had given him a couple more years if he chose to do nothing. They'd make him 'comfortable' as they called it, and he could carry on with his duties until he couldn't. It was a guaranteed death sentence.

The chemo gave him a chance. You'd begged him to at least try. It was worth a try. Eventually he had given in under the condition that he would do the treatments until they started affecting his job. Your hope was that the chemo would stave off the disease long enough to buy him more time until then. At ten months, the tumor had shrunk in size, but Tom was feeling the effects of the radiation. He was nauseous more often than not and it was rare that he kept anything down. His joints stiffened and along with that came constant fatigue. The mouth sores were probably the worst development.

"That's not fair. You feel like crap because it's working," you argue, but it's like talking to a brick wall. He's not listening, tuning you out as he grabs his keys. He's been looking for an excuse to quit and it seemed as though he'd finally hit his breaking point. "If you skip again, everything so far will have been for nothing. You'll be right back where you started—"

His hand sliding off the doorknob, Ice turns to face you. He releases an exasperated sigh, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The crease between his brows seems to have become permanent these days. "The stupid appointment will be here when I get back. You will be here when I get back. My career, this opportunity, will not."

"You don't mean that," you whisper, fighting the tightening of your throat, but you don't even believe yourself when you say it.

For a fraction of a second, he at least has the decency to look guilty. Ice pauses in the doorway, his mouth opening then closing as he decides against whatever he was going to say.

"Tom...," you begin to please with him, your voice cracking, but the front door had already slammed shut.

A text comes from Slider later that day.

You need to come get him.

Had you received such a text twelve months ago, you would have assumed that Tom was being an intolerable ass and that the team was at their wits' end with him. These days he hardly even has enough energy to walk from his desk to the door, let alone raise any sort of hell like he used to.

It seems foolish to miss that kind of thing, but you do. You all miss the normalcy of it.

When you make it to the base, it is buzzing with life. The tarmac is lined with rows of aircraft and men, both returning and awaiting takeoff. Given today was the first day for new recruits, it wasn't unusual for things to be so chaotic. You find Viper behind his desk as usual, phone pressed to his ear. Upon spotting you, he covers the receiver and mouths 'bathroom'.

You find him in the one behind the showers in the locker room. He's braced over the sink, heaving. Maverick is there. Maverick is always there.

The brunette pilot is standing beside Ice, a hand on his back to steady him as he retches. Maverick's leant over, murmuring something into his ear, only taking note of you standing in the doorway as he straightens. He nods in greeting to you just slightly, a grim look in his green eyes.

You'd long ago become accustomed to the idea that Ice was not purely yours. The navy owned him first and foremost. That was sworn in oath and inarguable. But anything after that became a little less clear. There was Maverick, and then there was you.

But you knew that.

When you had first met Ice on a night out at the bar, you were completely and hopelessly swooned by his charm, convinced that you'd just met the love of your life. And then you met Maverick and realized that was never going to be true.

It had always been Maverick. It had been Maverick long before you met Ice and would continue to be Maverick until he took his last breath.

Knowing first hand that Tom doesn't like being crowded when he's like this, you wait until he straightens before making your presence known behind him. He doesn't even flinch at the feel of your hand on his back, and you take that as a bad sign. Usually he'd bristle defensively, snap at you that he could handle it on his own. You know his anger comes from a place of fear—fear of being vulnerable, fear of dying.

His face is pale and tired looking, even more so than usual. You press the back of your palm to his forehead but find that he's not unusually warm, which is good. His flushed cheeks and watery eyes must be from gagging.

Maverick now stands a few paces away, hands clasped together behind his back. He's always kept his distance when you were around, held back by not only his respect for you but the laws of the navy. One wrong move at the wrong place at the wrong time would have himself and Ice dishonorably discharged. Their careers would amount to nothing.

If it hadn’t been for DADT, you don’t think Tom would have chosen you. Had the government allowed it, he would have put an engagement ring on Pete’s finger instead of yours. You probably wouldn’t even be a part of his life. And you carry around a lot of guilt because of that. It’s been one of the most selfish things you’ve ever done, agreeing to marry Tom. But at the same time there’s a part of you that doesn’t feel guilty at all because at least that it meant you got to spend your life with him.

Tom was the love of your life, but you weren’t his. Tom loved you, he genuinely did, but he wasn’t in love with you. That was reserved for Maverick.

Tom sucks in a ragged breath, one that hurts your own chest, and a fit of coughing follows it You’re afraid you’re going to hear that cough and it’s painful sharpness for years to come, but what you’re even more afraid of is the day you don’t. You swallow the knot in your throat and pet a hand through Tom’s hair, tenderly brushing it away from his eyes.

The reality of the situation is beginning to hit you, and there’s little you can do to keep the tears from your eyes. Once he stops chemo, there’s no telling how much more time he has left. It could be a couple weeks or it could be years, but regardless, he’s done fighting.

“Pete,” you begin, your throat tight. The brunette pilot’s eyes shoot towards you, his eyes reflecting a look of surprise.

In all of the years that you had known him, he has always been Maverick to you, maybe even Mav on the rare occasion, but never Pete. That had been your way of distancing yourself from him, the man who your fiancé so fondly referred to as his wingman. It was hard to look at Maverick as a friend and at the same time, your fiancé’s lover.

“Pete, take him home, would you?” You ask, finally able to get your words out again.

Maybe he’s not sure if he’s hearing you correctly or he’s just genuinely confused, but Maverick tilts his head, his green eyes lit with confusion. “I don’t—”

Tom’s eyebrows furrow, mimicking an expression similar to his wingman’s when you slip off the engagement ring on your finger and enclose it in his palm. “(Y/n), what are you doing?”

With your heart in your throat, you engulf Tom in a hug. From a combination of him not expecting it and his considerably lighter frame, he has to shuffle a few steps back to accommodate for your sudden weight. Once recovered, his arms tighten around you. The weight of his embrace is overwhelmingly familiar, and it doesn’t hit you until now how much you’re going to miss it. You snuggle your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in like how you used to when you first started dating.

You hear him struggling to swallow, but eventually he finds his voice. “I would have married you,” he says, his voice sounding full of regret. What he means is, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, even though he wished things could have been different, he would have still walked down the isle and said ‘I love you’ and meant it. He would have loved you regardless.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you pull away just enough to see his face. “I know, Tom. I know you would’ve.”

And as much as it breaks you to release him, you step away from him for one final goodbye. Turning towards the man standing a few feet away, you open your arms for him, crushing Maverick in an embrace. “Take care of him, okay?” you manage, your words muffled by the leather of his bomber jacket.

“Of course ,” he promises.

“I know you will. You always have.”

——

Six months later, you get a phone call from Maverick. Tom had passed in his sleep last night. The call was brief, Maverick could barley get his words out, but he just wanted to let you know before the navy contacted you. They do around noon that day and you help make arrangements for the funeral.

With Tom being an admiral, they make it into a whole production, something he would have hated but secretly been proud of. It a very emotional day, hearing the fighter jets fly by and seeing all of yours and Tom’s friends.

You intend to slip in and out, but as you’re leaving, Maverick catches your eye in all of the chaos. It’s good to see him. He looks to be holding up okay despite the situation. There’s a gold band on his ring finger that wasn’t there before. The sight tugs at your heart a bit because you want to know how long they got to be married, if they went to the courthouse or if they had a ceremony on the beach like Tom had always wanted.

That’s the thing about love.

Even if it wasn’t you and Tom in the end, you still loved him, probably always will love him.

And that was fine.

All the love you had to give was his to keep anyways.

#iceman x maverick #iceman x reader #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #top gun iceman #icemav x reader #topgun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun 1986 #angst

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday fandom :) Already onto episode 2. We get to see some new challenges for Tim and lots of work flirts because well it’s s4. These two are emotionally dating whether they realize it or not haha. Not a ton in this ep for them but just enough goodies possible with them riding apart. Off we go.

4x02 Five Minutes

We start our ep off with Nolan helping out with paint samples. Tamara has moved in (yay I love this) and they’re trying to decide what color. Tamara says she doesn’t care it’s Lucy's apt. Seemingly resigned at this point. Lucy doesn’t agree and says it’s her room though. Tamara says it’s not hers it’s…she trails off before mentioning Jackson's name. Lucy realizes this and cuts it off before she gets emotional. My heart. Nolan tells her they have to get ready for work.

They leave Tamara's room and Lucy asks John if they’re being silly about the color? That they're taking this long to pick one out? He’s says it’s not 'We' but her. Lucy gives him a look. She knows what he's implying but isn’t ready to talk about it yet. So she hands him his bag instead. She notes it’s super heavy. Asking what’s in it? Apparently Tim gave him ton of books to read for being a T.O. Nolan asks if it’s weird for her Tim's not a T.O. anymore?

Lucy acting all civil and grown up or trying to. Saying no he’s moving on with his career. So will she. I mean deep down she's gotta be happy with the fact that she was the last rookie he trained fully. End on a high note and all that. That high note being her. She continues on that she hadn't even thought of him being a rookie Sergeant. The look on her face betraying her words. She's failing terribly at containing her excitement at what she's done haha

As we can see in this next scene Lucy is a lying liar who lies. We cut to Tim looking fine af in a TIGHT red t-shirt. Sweet baby James those guns should be illegal. Look at his bicep as he opens that locker. My god. Walking thirst trap and I'm here for it. He’s all happy walking up to his locker. Then he opens it and finds her note with a bunch of small boots LOL It’s amazing and glorious. His face kills me. I love her knowing the combination to his lock in first place to plant these. Ahh the work flirts between these two never cease to amaze. Pranking is one of their love languages hehe

Tim enters Grey’s office to officially get his Sergeant’s badge for Mid Wilshire. He’s so excited it's adorable to watch. Telling Grey he won’t let him down. Wade says he will. Tim looks crushed poor love. Grey telling him he’s going to fail just as much as he succeeds. Interesting to watch Tim stumble off the blocks a bit with this. The entire episode is him feeling out being a Sergeant for the first time. Naturally he’s a little cocky. He's always puffing his chest out more around others that aren't Lucy heh

Tim is thinking he can just apply his T.O. Tactics to this and Wade isn’t about it. The little wink above. Have mercy sir ... Learned all that sass from being around his girl haha Grey is not amused. Tells him he can easily remove those strips HA I love it. So much growth to be had in this new role of his. Always love watching him stretch himself. Grey tells Tim he’s going to be leading roll call today. He is so amped. I love this sfm.

Grey announces Tim being the station's newest sergeant and Lucy is aglow with pride. Look at her. She is so damn excited and proud of him. She's been on this journey with him since day one. Ready to make a big deal and celebrate him. Even when he won’t. Especially when he won’t. This reaction is proud wifey status right here. Her pre clap is so cute. She is ready to celebrate him and his achievement before anyone else is. Lucy notice's no one else is as excited as her and has to rein herself back in LOL The minute it's announced she is filled with pride and glee. It's written all over her body language and her need to want to clap for him before it's time. You know he made eye contact with her for that little smirk. I love them.

Also let’s talk about the heart eyes/little eye sex Lucy is giving Tim during his first roll call he's leading Look at her in the beginning. Keep it in your pants Officer Chen LMAO You are in public madam. Tim is shocking everyone but Lucy with his rant. Just a normal day for her when he talks like this. It's too funny. He is shocking everyone else though. Even Grey is thrown back by his words. Not his girl though. There’s nothing he can say that’ll throw her. Look at her smile as she leaves the roll call room. She is bemused he just went on a 'Tim Rant' in his first roll call. I love it so much.

We rejoin Lucy with Nolan in their shop. She is asking about wallpaper and what he thinks? Nolan pokes the bear one more time. Saying she’s the most insightful person he knows. Lucy has to see why she is delaying picking out a color. That Tamara can never accept the room as her's till Lucy moves on from it being Jackson’s. Before she can answer a car races by them. They pull them over immediately.

Nolan asks if he can practice being a T.O. With her? Lucy gives him some crap then says yeah show me what you got. He calls her boot and lives to regret it so very much. I love the absolute sass in her body language alone. Like you best walk that back LOL She barely let Tim call her that let alone you Nolan haha

Grey and Tim are riding together today. Wade going over not arriving to a scene right away. How it hurts the officer's confidence when you do. You can see Tim squirming in his seat with all this haha It's the very opposite of being a training officer. This is where this position makes him grow. It’s forcing him to do things he normally wouldn’t. Honestly riding with Lucy prepped him for this in a way he doesn’t understand just yet. Taught him all the things he needs to be a good supervisor.

Doesn’t mean he won’t have growing pains along the way though LOL Before he can reply Nolan contacts them about the driver he’s pulled over. Nolan ran her ID and finds out she is a white whale. Claire Ivy. Been suspected in multiple heists dating back 20 years. How Lopez almost caught her in 2016. Grey tells him to cite her and let her go. To inform her she’s on their radar though. To leave town ASAP.

Nolan returns to Lucy and Claire. She is a complete bad ass. Not taking Nolan’s warnings seriously at all. She even winks at Lucy before taking off. Nolan asking her what she thinks? Lucy having the funniest reply. Saying she has a girl crush haha I love Lucy so much.

Tim and Wade show up to Nyla’s scene. Her first call with Aaron is a murder. Grey asks her where her rookie is? She point to him on the sidewalk sitting. Looking pretty shaken up. Tim asks if he puked with a smile. Heh you’re terrible you handsome devil. She says yes but it’s more than the gore. That he was having some PTSD. Then tells Grey it’s almost like he shouldn’t be a cop…. Harper was so harsh with Aaron in the beginning. Grey notes it’s a good thing he has the best T.O. In the business to help him then.

Tim needing to give Nyla a hard time says his line above. I love the constant teasing between these two. It’s so funny and a delight to watch how they’ve developed. Her face is everything haha The rivalry between them is the absolute best. Wade tells Tim to stay on task.... Tim tries to canvass and Grey stops him. Saying he’s there to supervise not canvas. Poor Tim its a default gear for him. So he tells Harper to take her rookie and do as such. She gives him a smile saying 'Yes sir.' hehe

Lucy gets home and has a heart to heart with Tamara. She knows she can't avoid having it any longer. It makes me emotional to watch Lucy struggle with talking about him. Then Tamara gets emotional as well. Getting me right in the feels ladies. Lucy apologizing for being so manic about the color. That when they do this it'll make all this real. Even months later she will have to face that fact that he's never coming home to this room. Which is rough for both of them to deal with. I mean Tamara is feeling guilt for even taking the room let alone altering it. Lucy is struggling changing it as well for her own reasons.

Tamara feeling hesitant to make it her own. Because anytime she changes anything feels like she erasing him. Ugh my heart. This is such a good scene for them though. I love Lucy telling her Jackson would’ve loved her staying here. He would've wanted something good to come out of this. This is Lucy’s official moving on moment. Not letting this weigh her down any longer. So Tamara too can move on and not feel guilty making this room her own. Guess Nolan was right. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in awhile eh?

We find Lucy and Nolan next day camping outside Claire's hotel. They're talking about his date with Bailey and her breaking up with him via text. Before they delve any further Tim calls in asking for a status update. Lucy lets him know no activity on their end but what about the rest of her team? I love this mini moment of theirs. Their banter over the radio. Them talking this situation out. Like Nolan isn’t even there. Theorizing together like they’re in the same car. Their work chemistry isn't missing a beat in this scene. Also lets admire his bicep in this scene. Straining against that sleeve.*fans self* It's like he wants me to comment like this LMFAO

Tim telling Lucy his thoughts is my fav part. Being vulnerable with her saying he’s nervous. Only Lucy gets this side of him even when they’re not in the same space I love it sfm. There is growth in this moment. Normally he would just say or direct an OP like this. Wouldn’t need anyone else’s input. But now he’s post-Lucy being his rookie. We see the impact she’s had on him. How he’s relying on her thoughts and relaying his own. Doesn’t seem like a big moment in grand scheme of things. When we know the cuteness at the end of this episode. But I love underrated moments and this is one of them.

Grey finds out Tim was apart of the OP who took down Claire and her team. He is none too happy about it. Tim is confused saying he used his skills in the best way possible. Wade calls him out for it. Telling him no. He just couldn’t trust anyone else to get it done right. That control freaks don’t make good sergeants. It’s a rough first go for Tim. He has a lot to learn about stepping back and his need to control. To trust those around him. It’s something we will see him grow in this season.

But we can’t appreciate such growth unless we see him start at square one. Just like with S1 Tim. If we didn’t see him at his lowest how could we truly appreciate the depth of his growth when it happened? It’s the same with his new role as sergeant. He does stand his ground saying he needs to find his own way as a sergeant. He asks Grey if there is anything else? He adds on praise is important. An 'Atta-Boy' from the boss goes a long way.

Lucy is trying to sneak more booties into Tim’s locker when he catches her. Tim acting like he’s shocked but I don’t think he really is haha Asking her what she's doing? Lucy telling him how she’s paying him back. That word haunts her LOL She has to remind him he is a 'Boot' now. Getting immense joy out of teasing him. They are so married in this scene it’s unreal. Naturally he has to chastise her doing the same prank twice. Wouldn’t be him if he didn’t. His way of flirting right back. These two idiots in love.

Lucy hands him the booties and says she’s going to leave him to it then. Not expecting more out of this moment than this mini banter. Tim doesn’t let her get too far before giving her that compliment. He's so uncomfortable about saying it you know she is soaking this up. Enjoying him being uncomfortable so much.

Lucy is also stunned he’s giving her praise so freely when he finally gets it out. Her face says everything about her disbelief. Tim sees it instantly and tells her Grey suggested he do so. Like it's such a hardship to praise her like this heh. Lucy seeing he’s trying to grow and thanks him with that cocky smirk we know he loves so much.

Although Lucy can’t pass up the opportunity to push his buttons. Has to see if she can’t get him to spill more since he is in a sharing mood. About her specifically of course haha One of her love languages is receiving those words of affirmation and praise from him. She laps it up like a thirsty dog hehe She’s comfortable enough ‘Push her luck’ as Tim states above. Tim of course stops Lucy in her tracks. Knowing exactly what she is up to.

I love her awkward exit when she knows she has pressed her luck. The pointing and backing out is so adorable I can not stand it. We know he loves her goofy dorkiness. It's that dorky sunshine he falls in love with in the first place. You know he misses riding with her so much in this moment. He holds his ‘serious’ face till she leaves. Shakes his head so bemused by her actions.

Then when she’s out of sight his true colors come into play. Look at this man. Tim looks down at the boots with a happy smirk. He is so smitten and happy she did this prank. Why you ask? Because it meant she was thinking of him. Thought of his special day and did something to commemorate it. You know he actually loves how thoughtful she is. How she always makes him #1. Makes him feel like he’s #1 in her book. Something that is so very foreign to him.

Just like Lucy adores his praise. He soaks up her affection and putting him and his accomplishments on the front burner. Never lets Tim pass by with anything less than a Lucy worthy celebration. Like I said earlier pranking is a love language of their's. This is her way of saying she cares. Does it in a way he can handle but knows her intention. Tim has never had someone like her before. He is very smitten and that wall of his is damn near rubble at this point. We’re not there yet but it’s on it's way to utter ruin. Thank you Lucy Chen haha

Tamara finally finishes up her room. She’s nervous to show Lucy. It’s so cute. I love what she did with it. So very her and I love it. Lucy giving her stamp approval is just what she needed. This is such a cute moment. I love their chosen sisterhood so much. Gives me warm fuzzies for days. How far they’ve come from Tamara stealing Lucy’s car heh Tamara finally having her own safe space and having it with Lucy is the best part.

Cute little episode for them as we enter full into this season. I always love when we get little work flirts with them. They’re dating and have idea about and that’s the best part of the the whole dynamic.

~~~~

Side notes non chenford-

The introduction of Aaron. I wasn’t sure about him at first but ended up adoring him. He won me over fairly quickly.

Wes and Angela spending the only time Jack sleeps theorizing about Aaron’s case instead of sleeping LOL I love them sfm.

Thank you as always to those who continuously like, comment and reblog these reviews. Makes my heart so happy. Shall see you all in 4x03 :)

#Caitlin Rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #waiting on s6 #winter rewatch #s4 #4x02 Five Minutes #the rookie 4x02 #otp: doing my job #otp: you know me so well. too well #otp: some things matter more #otp: you did good #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #the rookie #eric winter #melissa o'neil #tim bradford x lucy chen

[psychospore]

Mothers Know Best

Popping in for a fluffy fic 💕 Hope you enjoy

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0o0o0

Loki was so proud to show you around Asgard. It's been a few years being away, staying in Midgard that coming back here feels nostalgic to him. He was beaming the whole time he described the architecture of the place, plant and animal life that were non-existent in Midgard and the exquisite view of nature, visible miles away from where you were standing.

You were invited by Loki to visit here after Frigga's incessant requests through Thor. You were the only Midgardian that Loki seems to be interested in and Frigga thinks he fancies you more than just a friend. Of course, you were in denial.

He is a handsome god, a smart and powerful one too - it would be far-fetched to think he'd fall in love with some mere mortal whose only redeeming asset is being able to break down Loki's tough exterior and be able to talk to him heart to heart.

Of course, in Loki's perspective, you were more than that. You were his light when he lost all hope, you found him worthy of friendship, love and company when the whole world spurned him. He does hope you find it in your heart to see that.

You were with Loki as you walk side by side to his mother's garden for an afternoon tea with some young ladies in the kingdom as you wait for the queen to join you. Unlike billowing dresses similar to what those girls were wearing, you pleaded to wear something more comfortable, more you.

You ended up wearing Loki's clothes when he was a bit younger - green and gold and black colors adorning you, tunic and pants and high boots. You tied your hair to a high ponytail and fixed your horn-rimmed glasses as you walked.

You don't want to look underdressed in the presence of Frigga but can't find it in your heart to be pretentious in front of her, not like you were wanting any favor from here anyway. She did want you to feel comfortable when she invited you.

As you close in, the girls started to gaggle and hound around Loki. One even pushed you away so they could get closer to the god. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but that didn't want you to confront any of them. Maybe Loki fancies one of them and you just don't want to get in the way so you take it to yourself to step back.

You noticed Loki though starting to feel uncomfortable with the unwanted attention and the constant touches. It was a bit unusual given Loki's flirtatious nature but you knew you had to do something. Maybe it was concern, or maybe it was the pang of jealousy growing in you.

You tried to call the ladies' attention but they ignored you despite your protests to give Loki some space. You've had enough of the scene unfolding in front of you.

You yanked back the hair of the lady in front of Loki, making her slump into the soft grass underneath with a soft thud which surprised Loki. You stretched one arm towards Loki's nape, securing your hold with your hand and pulled Loki to lean on you. You stared at him for a split second before pulling him in for a deep and passionate kiss which made the ladies gasped and stepped back around him.

With one arm he held your lower back as he pulled you back closer to him. He pulled back his lips to stare into you and gasp for some air before he locked his lips against yours again, tongues intertwining. With his free hand, he caressed your cheeks. Your heart was pounding like crazy, so does Loki.

You broke your kiss when he heard a familiar voice. "Should we postpone our afternoon tea? It seems like I'm interrupting you two lovebirds" Frigga grinned as she walked towards you, ladies-in-waiting promptly following behind.

Your ears and face went beet-red with embarrassment. It was your first meeting and you were sure you just made a total fool of yourself. Frigga invited you here for a reason, not to find you snogging with his son in the open.

"I'm sorry, your majesty. It was inappropriate for you to find us like that, it was my fault." You curtly bowed down from where you were standing.

"Mother..." Loki gave a quick bow, feeling surprised about what happened but he internally admits that he liked what you just did. Claiming you in front of those pesky ladies. Maybe there was a chance that you liked him despite your previous interactions - avoiding those topics and such.

"Nonsense dear, please raise your head. I am Frigga, Loki's mother and I am glad that you're finally here with us," she beamed, walking closer to you.

You raised your head to see the beautiful woman in front of you took you into a warm hug. You hugged her back, she smelled like fresh flowers in spring, and you wanted to bury yourself in her embrace but she lets you go so she could speak with you more.

"I'm y/n... Your majesty" you mumbled, giving her a quick bow.

"please, enough with the formalities. Call me mother from now on," she spoke excitedly.

"yes yo.. mother.." you looked confused and you looked at Loki.. also looking equally confused.

"well, Thor has been talking about you a lot when he comes to visit. I'm so excited to meet the beautiful woman that Loki has been madly in love with. Thor told me you just needed a teeny tiny nudge. I invited you here to maybe help you realize and I guess my plan worked."

You were embarrassed that you played right into Frigga's plans but Loki assured you he was with you when he held your hand tightly.

"I am perfectly capable of confessing my love for y/n mother, I guess my big oaf of a brother tattled way too much this time." Loki firmly responded.

She gently tapped Loki's cheek, "I'm sure you are my son, I'm sorry that I just couldn't help it. It's great meeting you, y/n. I wish you could visit here and bring Loki more often. You both look perfect together," she smiled shifting her gaze to you.

"It's my greatest pleasure meeting you too... Mother" you meekly responded, still blushing.

"I guess I'll leave you two here for now. I'll see you both during dinner" she smiled as she took everyone with her back to the palace.

When everyone cleared out, Loki took the time to face you, holding both of your hands together. "I'm sorry that happened y/n, this was not my intention in bringing you here. But I stand by my word from earlier, I have been in love with you for some time now, and I want to know if you feel the same for me too"

"yes, Loki..." you hesitated for a bit "I've liked you too but I wasn't too sure if you'd like me back given my... mediocrity. You are constantly surrounded by beautiful people and I already feel lucky just being your friend"

"but darling, you are everything but mediocre. You've shown me that someone as unlovable, as irredeemable as me is worthy of love. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me,"

Before you could answer, Loki took you in another soft and sincere kiss - witnessed by the dusking sky of Asgard. A testament of his devotion to you, and you to him.

#loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fic recs #loki x female reader #loki fic #loki of asgard #loki x you #loki and thor #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #mcu loki #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson fanfic #loki odinson x you #loki odinson imagine #loki friggason #loki fiction #loki fluff

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

The Brothers Sun ep8

Understandable that the Tea Leaf guy won't talk unless Big Sun is brought down

Aw, they're staying in a motel

Mama Sun is so done that Bruce couldn't get the name for dragon head right 😂

She makes her son drive at night because she gets lost😭

She bought 6 pasta strainers just because they were on sale

"You are not a crime boss. You're my mom." She can be both

I get where she's coming from, but it never sits right to be mad at the kid who didn't

NOOOOOOOOOO Charles nooooooooooooooo

Oh thank god, he shot above his brother's head

The mom's hand on Charles shoulder 😭 I bet she came running

I love that Bruce said that it's going to lead to decades of therapy (that his brother was sent to kill him by their father)😂

Charles don't hurt your brother! He has a point about killing your father

The fact that Bruce said he'd do anything to protect his brother 😭

The way the mom admitted that the chairleg incident was a test and she didn't push back against the father when he forced Charles to kill the first time😭

At least she's showing the remorse and guilt she feels for sacrificing

"Forget dad, you can be Charles -churro baker Sun"😭

The way that the mom has a charger for her son's phone😭

Oh, Charles just realized how he was betrayed

Xing telling the Wang bros that they need to shut up makes me hope she at least feels some guilt for betraying

The dad is such an asshole

Good for you Charles, telling your dad you want to stay. I'm proud of you❤️

The way I cheered when Charles shot those douche bags😂

Oh no, Xing is going to kill the mother and brother 😭

Well fuck indeed, Charles, fuck indeed

Alexis saying that they don't have shrimp chips😂

Him asking for a charger is not permission to track his phone

Alexis is far worse than Charles ever could be

Mama Sun wearing an oversized jersey is so cute

Yeah, Xing sucks and blood boots would never

The fact that the mom is immediately chastising Bruce for getting the wrong milk😂

FUCK YOU ALEXIS. FUCK YOU

Bruce is absolutely playing her😂 the improv classes work!

I love how Charles is just as shocked that the mom can fight 😂😂

Bruce planning to kill their dad😂

I mean, him being good at Laser Tag and also beating his actual assassin brother at a shooting video game is hilarious and actually makes sense

Bruce: "Neither of us are who our parents thought we were."

Charles"Yeah, but both our parents are crazy."

Bruce: "yeah."

Bruce, hugging Charles: "I don't think we've ever hugged before."

Charles: "Well, you're probably gonna die, so might as well get one last one before you go."😂

Bruce: "Right."

Bruce, handing his visitor badge to Alexis: "The Brothers Sun don't work with cops." HA!

Oh no, Bruce don't listen to that serpent of a father who's telling you to join him.

I love that Charles made sure to shoot his dad and missed the internal organs 😂 It definitely pays

The way that Bruce said he'd use his spit to make his taco dumplings 😂

I'm pretty sure that it was Bruce's plan all along to get his brother and mom to cook for him forever😂

FUCK YEAH! THE MAMA INJECTING THE DAD'S IV BAGS WITH INSULIN IS WICKED AND GENIUS AND I'M SO HAPPY FOR HER!

Awwwww she bought her son a bakery 😭🥺

Hopefully that other girl isn't

The way she brought gifts to her friends

I love that she wants her kids to have lives and be happy 🥺❤️

Good for Alexis that she got a tower of her snack

The pictures in the mom's room with both her boys🥺😭

I'm crying with Bruce and Mama Sun too😭 nothing bad better happen to her

Oh nooooo, Charles is leaving too😭 I mean I'm happy that he's gonna get some time with his mama and that she's finally getting what she wants

I love that June has dinner reservations already 😂 she's got her priorities straight

The fact that Bruce still struggles to drive his car is hilarious and relatable af😂

I really hope we get another season, just because this was so well written and I enjoyed this show so much. But it also ended on a great note.

Ooooooo I wonder who that guy with the sunglasses sounds like he's being sent after Tea guy

Also still curious about who the man was that Eileen had been dancing with in Taiwan

#TheSevenWondersOfAWitch watches #the brothers sun #Netflix the brothers sun #brothers sun #charles sun #bruce sun #mama sun #big sun #michelle yeoh #eileen sun #Alexis kong #june song #thesevenwondersofawitch

[niragisqueenofhearts]

~The Devil's Dog~

Park Jongdu x reader

warnings: Darkfic, nsfw, mentions of murder, cutting, blood, marking, dubcon/noncon.

Word count: 3355

y'all please bear with me, it's my first fic that I'm posting, sorry if it's not too good like the others but I'm pretty proud of it so, yay!

I hope you enjoy!

Part 2 Part 3

~~~~

It was supposed to be a simple job. Get assigned as doctor on the Frontier Wolf, do your job as said nurse to help care of any injuries, arrive in Korea then go back home. It was just supposed to be a simple operation, never did you think in that list that said try and cheat death by surviving a prisoner riot and witness your fellow colleagues be killed. But that's what happened here. And here you are now, covered in blood, cowering in a cabinet, and clasping a knife you managed to sneak away for dear life. You could've sworn your hands were going to fall off with how much they were shaking.

The sounds of screaming, running footsteps and thuds filled your ears as the massacre continued. You could've sworn you drew blood with how hard you were biting your lip to muffle your sobs.  A part of you had wanted to stay behind to protect those you called family, but your instincts took over. You knew you couldn't risk yourself, you had to survive, it may seem selfish and even cruel, but it is how this world works.

Silence began to subside as you heard footsteps slowly exited the room. Your heart could finally rest. A long sigh escaped your mouth as you felt your body relax. The adrenaline from moments ago faded, leaving only numbness to settle deep within your veins. As your head began to feel light you allowed yourself to slump back into the cabinet, not noticing when you fell onto the cold hardwood floor. Your eyes began fluttering closed, sleep claiming you soon after.

It wasn't long before someone found you. Your blissful rest was interrupted by a loud stomp. You awoke to see a pair of black boots in front of you. Slowly and hesitantly, you slowly began to look up, slowly taking in the tall and broad demeaner of the person in front of you. Your eyes widened as you recognize the face immediately. Kyu-tae. "Well, well, look who we have here," He greeted you, his face adorned with a smirk. Your fight or flight began to kick in as you frantically began to look around for your knife. "Looking for this?" He chuckled as he waved the blade in front of you. Your heart sank and tears began to stream down your face. This was it. This was the day you die. You frantically began to grovel away from him as he began to walk towards you.

You managed to scramble on your feet and ran to the other side of the counter. "Please Kyu-tae." You sobbed, "You don't need to do this." You shook as he laughed at your words, "God, you've always been such a naive bitch." The room fell silent as he watched your every move, countering it with his own, if you went left, he went right, if you took 3 steps back, he took 3 steps forward. Soon enough he got sick of the mirroring games and pounced onto the counter after you. You screamed as you ran from behind the counter and out the door, he followed behind you in an attempt to lose him, you turned a corner and hoped to god that the exit was nearby. "Please, make it end," You cried as you didn't dare to look behind you.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning of your nightmare, as you took a wrong turn and stumbled into a hallway filled of the convicts. Your heart nearly stopped as they all locked their eyes on you. Defeat overcame as you heard Kyu-tae approach from behind. You're surrounded, with nowhere to run. "Come now, just be good, we'll make it quick and easy." Kyu-tae cooed. He lunged at you, wrapping his hand around your throat, and pinning you to the wall. "Please Kyu-tae, don't do this." You choked on your words as you sobbed relentlessly, but to no avail. He brought the knife still in his tightened grip back ready to penetrate you. You needed to do something, anything to get you out of this.

"Wait! Please! I can help!" You blurted, another inmate grabs Kyu-tae's arm, "Wait." He spoke. Kyu-Tae released his grip on you, "Help how?" "Your friends in the back, they're injured obviously, I'm a doctor, I can help them." He chuckled "Bullshit, I'm sure we'll do fine on our own." "You guys wouldn't survive the week and that's not regarding the injuries some of you have. Food, water, medical supplies, toiletries." You stated. "It's all pad locked, I know all the codes, you let me live and I'll make sure you all live through this week’s trip." Kyu-tae fell silent as he stood there contemplating. "Let her go," Another man spoke as he emerged from the crowd, "Let her stitch the guys up, open the storage rooms then throw her ass in a corner somewhere." Kyu-tae looked her up and down, "Fine, but we'll be watching you, one slip up and I’ll kill you where you stand."

You nodded in response before he pushes you into the direction of the wounded convicts, "Baek-jae, take her to storage, do not take your eyes off her for a single moment." You watch as the guy with the green shirt approaches you, conveniently he happens to be the one with the biggest gun.  Baekjae grabbed your wrist and began leading you to the storage area, "Just don't cause trouble and you won't have to worry about us." What did you get yourself into...

It was only just 2 days on the ship, but it felt like an eternity. You could hardly sleep, as if sleeping with a bunch of convicts around you wasn't enough to keep your stomach in knot, to add insult to injury your neck was chained to the wall majority of the time when you weren't using the bathroom or stitching a guy up, but hey, at least you're still alive right?

You had just finished eating the food the guys gave you, when you called after one of them, "Excuse me?" No response, "Hello?" Still no response, "Hey I’m talking to you!" You snapped, big mistake. The larger gentleman snaps his neck to glare at you, "What do you want?" He asked, his voice was gruff but low, making you shudder as he stepped closer. "I need the bathroom." You stated as you scooted into the corner trying to create distance between you and him, "Oh? Really? Well, considering how you just spoke to me, do you think you deserve to go to the bathroom?" He asked sarcastically, you gulped at his words, "I'm sorry I spoke to you like that-" "So you agree?" He cuts her off, "You don't deserve to use the bathroom." His tone is more serious than before. You looked around quickly to see the other prisoners looking at you, "Unless you're willing to be especially nice to me to let you use the bathroom?"

He began to palm himself through his orange trousers. You cringed at the sight as you began to feel sick to your stomach, you could almost taste your lunch coming back. Just like that, you decided against asking if you were allowed to use the bathroom anymore. Instead, you looked away from him. He strutted over to you now towering over you, "I believe I asked you a question." He growled lowly, you stayed silent, your mind telling you to just run away from here. "Fine. If that's the way you want to play." He spat as he crouched down to you, beginning to grab at your pants.

You fought back against his grasps as you began to panic, "Stop please!" You cried as you tried to pull yourself away from him. You struggled harder and harder as his hand slipped underneath your shirt. Fortunately, someone spoke, ending the endeavor. “Leave her alone.”  The man attacking you finally got off you, he glared at the more fit man threateningly before continuing walking away. You heaved a sigh of relief as you glanced over to him. "Thank you." You uttered quietly. "I didn't do it for you, I wanted you to shut the fuck up." He huffed before going to walk away, "Hey, I-," He turned on his heels with an annoyed expression on his face, "I still need to use the bathroom." You whispered averting your gaze from his eyes burning holes into you. He sighed before unlocking your chain and pulling you up to your feet, "Come on little puppy." He mocked as he held the loose end of the chain in his fist, ironically like a dog on a leash. "Lead the way."

You sighed in relief as you washed your face in the sink, the cool water refreshing your skin was the closest you got to paradise since you got on this boat. As you exited the bathroom on instinct, you couldn't help but investigate the other room next to it. You froze in place as you saw one of the inmates, pleasuring himself. You couldn't help but gaze at the scene. He looked back at you, catching you staring. You felt your cheeks flush red as he smiled and winked at you, immediately you looked away. He was like something you hadn't seen before. He had tattoos all over him and these piercing, almost demonic eyes just staring into your soul that made your stomach go into knots.

It wasn't long before the man that escorted you to the bathroom came back, "All done little pup?" He grabbed hold of your chain pulling it aggressively before he noticed the man as well. "Ahh, I see, someone wanted to sneak a peek like the dirty girl she is." He laughed; the tattooed man laughed along with him. "Aw stop teasing her Jiseok, she's blushing." They continued to laugh and belittle you. "C'mon Jongdu, I'm just having some fun." He replied, "What? You like him?" You didn't dare to answer back, "How about this, it looks like he's enjoying himself looking at you," He took your face in both of his hands before forcing you to look at the man who continued to please himself, "Why don't you give him a little show huh? Come-" The man begun to rip your black button-down shirt exposing your breasts adorned in a pink lace bra and it wasn't long until he reached for your black jeans. You fought against him as hard as you could. "Let me go!" You screamed as you escaped his grip. The two laugh as you cowered away onto the wall shaking as you clutch yourself. "Let's go, back to your corner." He announces as he grabbed the loose end of the chain, pulling you roughly into his direction and back into your corner.

As usual later that night you couldn't sleep, instead observing the group of serial murderers sleeping like babies. You envied them, how could they have done such horrible crimes yet slept like nothing. You shook your head to clear it of the thoughts and stared aimlessly out of the window, thinking of what was going to happen to you.

"Wakey wakey." Someone spoke making you jump; it was the tattooed man. What was his name again? Jongdu. He approached you with a smile flashing the pearly whites. It was so strange to you, how a smile so gorgeous, made him look so much more sinister.

You grumbled as you glared at him, "Aw what's wrong?" He crouched in front of you, "I can't talk to a friend?" You scoff at him, "We're not friends." You stated before turning your attention back to the window. "Okay," He replied as he unknowingly got closer to you, "Maybe you'd want to be more than friends then?"

He slid his hand into your ripped shirt, the touch of his fingertips made you jump as if a bolt of electricity just went through you. He laughed at your reaction as he slowly ran his hands through your torso leaving trails of fire in their path. You knew the type of man he was, the evil things he had done, but you just couldn't understand why your body was reacting like the way it was. Your breathing got more rapid the more and more he touched you, the warmth radiating off his palms made you shiver violently. Your breathing became more ragged, he continued to trail his fingers down your chest making the tingling sensation worse, by the time he reached your waistband, you were practically panting with each breath, trying to control your body's desire. You refused to believe that you were having feelings like this, especially towards a deranged criminal like him.

You would've scooted away from him if it wasn't for the wall behind you. "Go away. Leave me alone." He chuckled, "Come on, you're going to tell me that you don't want me?" You glared at him with all your strength trying to get rid of your feeling of disgust, "I wouldn't fuck you, if it was life or death." His hands swiftly reached the back of your head, the burning sensation of him gripping your scalp harshly overwhelmed you. You tripped under yourself as he pulled you up to your feet. Once you managed to get your bearings, a sharp blade is brought up your gaze. You freeze instantly once you notice the blade. "Is that a challenge?" He said as he brought the blade to your neck pressing it into the underside of your jaw You whimpered at the pressure of his blade cutting the skin there, drawing blood. He laughed, "So brave and tough until a knife is placed against your skin." His voice was deep. He stared into your eyes with a sense of determination. He saw right through you, no matter how tough you acted or tried to look, he knew you were just like his last 13 victims.

He removed the knife from your neck, using it now to cut every single piece of clothing of you until you were bare, shivering and now teary eyed against the cold bar that held you in place. He stood back up and pressed himself against you, using his thighs to keep your legs separated. The sudden pressure on your clit caused you to squirm causing you to grind onto his leg even more. You pressed your hands against his chest using all the strength you had in you. "Don't fight me." He whispered in your ear while gripping your wrist and pushing it off his chest to hold you back in place. You groaned in frustration as your eyes locked onto the knife now being risen to your chest. He laughed at your struggle "I know you want it; I can smell it on you." He smirked as he pushed the knife closer to your skin, you whimpered as your tears flowed freely down your face feeling the cold, sharp blade graze just above your right breast. He chuckled, "Oh, don't worry puppy, this isn't going to hurt." He whispered as he pressed the knife into the flesh of your chest. You bit down onto your lip to muffle your cries as the pain spread throughout your body. The liquid crimson that spilled from your wound coated the entire right side of your torso as he continued to carve into you.

You stifled a groan as he brought his mouth to your open wound, he begun to lick the wound, drinking the pouring blood. Your body convulsed uncontrollably due to the intense amount of pain, but you couldn't utter a word. His mouth revolved from the wound you'd suffered earlier, to your sensitive buds now erect from the cold night air that brushed against you. He'd suck on them so hard that you weren't even sure whether it was if it was the blood that made them the dark color they were. Your blood stained his lips making the dark substance run down his face and dripping from his chin. "You taste so delicious," He grinned showing his now red teeth. "Better than the others." He purred.

Suddenly he pulled back and placed his bloodied lips onto yours, forcing you into a kiss. Your stomach turned as the heavy metallic taste of iron hit your tongue, yet you caught yourself kissing him back. You managed to snap yourself out of the kiss and pulled away gasping for air, "Jongdu please-" You cried. He merely grinned as he spoke, “Begging for me? God you're so cute." He dropped his trousers revealing his huge member to you. You flinched as he slammed his large organ into your loins. It felt as if he was ripping you in half as he forced you to feel every inch of it. He wrapped your leg around his waist as he gripped onto your thigh pulling you onto him.

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you were completely unable to speak or think straight. The mix of pain and pleasure made everything seem blurry. You whimpered under him, the feeling of his member pulsing between your legs sent waves of pleasure through you. You found yourself gripping onto his shirt and pulling him as if he could get any closer. His growls filled your ears as he began thrusting harder against you causing you to moan out in pure agony. He found pleasure in the sounds you made occasionally laughing with joy when you did. He groaned out in pleasure as he felt your walls clench around him. He kept slamming his throbbing member against you, causing you to gasp with every stroke, his hot breath hitting your ear sending shivers down your spine.

This isn't happening, is it? There's no way you're having sex with a serial murderer and liking it! No! That can't possibly be happening! You're dreaming, aren't you? This isn't real... It must be some horrible nightmare! You began to writhe against him, wanting out of his grip, out of this hell hole. He wasn't having any of it, becoming frustrated, he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you in place as he picked up speed. His hips thrusting into you faster, harder, and stronger, his breathing labored, his arms holding you tighter to him, he was getting close and so were you. You gasped and moaned out in both pain and ecstasy. The intensity of his actions was beginning to take effect and he began shaking with each thrust.

It's just a dream, it’s just a dream. You repeated in your mind as you threw your head back onto the wall behind you, the pleasure now becoming overwhelming you as your orgasm was approaching closer and closer. He grunted loudly as he began to release inside you. You came not too long after, burying your face into his chest to muffle your moan of ecstasy, your heart pounded rapidly in your chest as you took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. You heard him chuckle softly before pulling away from you. You held onto the metal beam to keep your now jello-like legs from stumbling under you. You watched as he picked his pants up from around his ankles, putting them back on. "Glad to see you enjoyed yourself."

"I didn't." You sighed as you looked over at him, his dark brown hair fell messily onto his face with a smirk still plastered across his lips.

"Just be glad you're not dead..." He trailed off as he walked over to a cabinet taking out an orange shirt and pants just like his and throwing it at your feet. "Sleep tight."

You watched as he left the room. Once he was gone, you let go of the beam you were leaning against allowing yourself to collapse onto the floor, slowly you began to slide on the oversized clothing he gave, letting out the occasional whimper or his of pain at the movement. Once you'd fully adjusted to the warm fabric you curled into yourself as sleep began to overtake you.

"It's a dream, just a dream." You whispered to yourself as you drifted off to sleep.

#project wolf hunting #Park jongdu #seo in guk #project wolf hunting jongdu #tw noncon #tw blood #I don't know what else to tag this so if y'all have any ideas please let me know!

[lokisgoodgirl]

HELLO! It is a lovely morning! I decided that I will make it even better by opening the floodgates in the nether regions for our king!

May I begin my presentation?

If you said no, tough, here we go!

🥵🥵🥵

MMMMMMMM wooof wooof bark bark!

SILENCE ME ANYTIME, MY KING! 🥵

MERCY 🥵🥵🥵

LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT I BEG YOU (maybe after being a brat and I'm awaiting punishment)

To finish off, THE STRUT! SIR, STRUT ALL OVER ME AND I'D STILL THANK YOU!

LOVE YOU!

~LRM

HELLOOO, HAPPY SATURDAY MY LOVE!!! Thank you so much for sending me this veritable smorgasbord of eroticism for us all to feast on oh my god.

The CC13 picture always get me 🤣🤣he was absolutely peak everything at that moment. The speech. The derision. The majesty. And YES STUT OVER ME PLEASE with those thicc sexy boots.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Saturday😊 we deserve it. Its been a week and I'm proud of us!!

As a lil aside, I'm bamboozled to find that I have over 3k thirsty Loki-queens following my lil blog now 🥺 we'll do something to mark the occasion for sure, but this happened quicker than I ever anticipated so bear with 🤣Thanks for being here, you make every day special❤️

@gigglingtigger @ladyofthestayingpower @mochie85 @simplyholl @kikster606 @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @maple-seed @lovelysizzlingbluebird @meowmeow-motherfucker @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokiandbuckysdoll @joyful-enchantress @allymuddyorbs @holdmytesseract @goblingirlsarah @thomase1 @wheredafandomat @peachyjinx @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @xorpsbane @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @filthyhiddles @littlespaceyelf @liminalpebble @alexakeyloveloki @psychospore @give-me-a-moose @lokiprompts @lokikissesmyforehead @fictive-sl0th @fictional-hooman +++🥰🗡️

#SAS Saturdays #open thirst call #the agenda is open

[yappacadaver]

Most of my lore-related Zevlor headcanons are going into the *glances at draft* uh...stupidly long fic.

But I'm in the "Zevlor had deep camaraderie and all kinds of wild sex in the Hellriders, but not a lot of relationship experience" camp. Stuff happens after battle, or when drunk, or in the barracks, but once he climbed the ranks, he wasn't going to abuse his position or fraternize. There wasn't time for him to be a good life partner outside of his duties.

So he is an absolute sucker for all the cute romantic things he missed out on earlier in life. Public displays of affection, flowers, courting rituals, he thinks he's too old for those things and claims he doesn't need the trappings. But then he gets so flustered when his partner makes the effort.

I'm of so many different minds when it comes to Zevlor's prior experience idek if I'm gonna be able to get all this down

So I totally agree that sex definitely happened amongst the Hellriders. I mean damn it's a military branch. I'm sure individuals found ways to get dirty in the barracks, the showers, in the field, in the stables, using equipment you'd likely find in a stable, using magic, if you can think it it probably happened.

I'm not sure that it's something Zevlor (even as a younger man) would've pursued? maybe it found him anyways, who knows. But he strikes me as someone who was (WAS) an idealist, and a proud one. Maybe he was saving himself for the perfect courtship, maybe he was too devoted to his religious education and martial training, maybe he's always been the kind of man to hold himself back (like at the tiefling party).

Now this is not me saying I think Zevlor's a virgin, I honestly think he's had both romantic and sexual experience. But I'm trying to hold in my mind the image of a young devout tiefling who is so proud to serve his city and his god, who wears practically the most respected uniform in that city, and have to imagine he thought he had HUGE ass boots to fill and no time to dally.

So ig what I'm saying is my personal hc is yours in reverse xD I think Zevlor would feel much more at home in the formal, formulaic space of romantic courtship, and completely out of sorts when it comes to experiencing desire or being desired in turn. He's old, he's a victim of extreme prejudice, he's of a race whose physical traits are associated with everything he's learned through his faith to despise, I feel like this man would have a hard HARD time with physical intimacy. Taking the metaphorical armor off could feel like self-ruin to a man who was practically raised in it. An aegis is meant to be struck not caressed, etc etc.

#yappa answers #Zevlor Headcanon Factory #thank you sm for the hc tho i don't ever want to sound ungrateful when im writing up my 10k word essay on whether blorbo fucks or not #and honestly!!!!!!! honestly any excuse for him to be flustered is good by me #somewhere in some universe he's getting chocolate and flowers and his heart is racing and he dont know what to say #and possibly in another universe he's desiring in front of another person (mortifying) and being desired as well (practically unbelievable)

[myreia]

wip (not) wednesday

Tagged by @thevikingwoman, thank you! 💖 Tagging @bearlytolerant @solverne-02 @a-shakespearean-in-paris @hylfystt @birues @lilas @galadae @impossible-rat-babies @coldshrugs @roguelioness

This is part of Chapter 7 of a FFXIV longfic I've been working on for a while and I am once again throwing a chunk down because I'm allergic to excerpting. Spoilers for some Heavensward stuff. Also warning for some spiciness/mature content below the cut. Aureia's a mess and that's her prerogative. 😌

“There are many things I have done in my life that I am not proud of,” he says. “This one is rather high in that count.”

“Then maybe you’ve learned something from it.”

“Harsh words there, Aureia darling—”

She makes a face. If he was hoping the epithet would smooth things over, he thought wrong. “Do me a favour and never call me that again,” she says bluntly.

He nods, raising his hands in surrender, and together they press onward in silence. They have lost sight of the procession entirely, having watched it disappear into the mists some time ago. Ishgard’s streets are eerily quiet, absent of evening wanderers. They must be bundled up safely in their homes, waiting for the freezing rain to fall.

“You know you were under no requirement to accompany me, yes?” Thancred says after a moment. “You were well within your right to decline—”

“I should thank you for it,” Aureia interrupts. “Aymeric has duties to attend to and I certainly wasn’t going to stay there with Edmont eyeing me up.”

He snorts, amused. “Not caring for the good count these days, I see?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know—”

He smiles.

“—it’s all so very irritating. Ishgardian politics don’t so much as go over my head as they annoy me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Edmont for everything he’s done, it’s that I feel he is too nosy and controlling for his own good. Look at his sons.”

“Perhaps I should not. Emmanellain and I do not share a charming history after all.”

She rolls her eyes. “What happened to Emmanellain was not his fault, but the damn pressure of living up to expectations set by a gifted brother. He has none of Haurchefant’s training or skill, and yet is expected to behave just like him. And when he inevitably fails to fulfill those demands, his father turns his eye to other, more skilled individuals.”

“Like yourself?”

“Like Aymeric.”

“Ah. Of course. Who could not fall under the mesmerizing charm of the Lord Commander.”

Aureia scowls. For a moment they were almost speaking like friends again. Almost.

They turn down a narrow street, the cobblestones slick with mist and melting snow. The rough walls of the tenements encroach on them, the rows of high windows shuttered against the dark and cold. The only light spills from lanterns that sway from the iron arches and spiked fences lining the alleyway.  

“And what of him?” she spits.

“I couldn’t help but notice you and he seem quite close,” he retorts. “Even closer than you were before my departure.”

“And? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you missed some developments since you’ve been gone, but we ended a war, Thancred. For good. That was reason enough for celebration—”

“So that is what you call it. And here I was wonder why I could smell wine on your breath.”

“We had dinner tonight. Is that a crime in your eyes now?”

“Nothing of the sort. I do hope you enjoy your celebrations, Aureia. Gods know you deserve all the happiness he can afford you.”

She stops short, anger burning in her chest. “Happiness?” she snarls, grabbing him by the arm. “What makes you think I’m happy with this? With any of this?”

Thancred pulls free from her grasp and rounds on her, his face inches from hers. “You’re the Warrior of Light,” he says. “Defender of Eorzea and a beacon of hope. Blessed by Hydaelyn and beloved by all. What possible reason could you have not to be?”  

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Aye, fuck me.”

She raises her chin, staring him down, and takes a step into him, her heart racing. The cobblestones are slick beneath her boots. Water drips from the gutters. The lanterns creak in the faint wind. Their breath mists in the air, rising together before vanishing into nothingness.

Somewhere far away, a distant shuttered window slams shut, the sound of its passage echoing through the neighbourhood.

They crash together in a fury. Aureia’s mouth presses against his in an open and furious kiss, her hands clutching at him as she pulls him to her. He grunts, his teeth scraping against her lower lip as he kisses her in return. She hisses his name, the syllables lost in her urgency, the heat of his lips devouring hers and her tongue in his mouth chasing away the cold. His fingers grasp fistfuls of her coat and he pushes her backwards against the alley wall.  

Her breath hitches from the force and she pulls him closer, urging him on. His kiss leaves her numb, shaking, exhilarated—somehow too much and not enough all at once. She doesn’t mind the roughness. She wants it. Whether this is desire or attraction or some gods damned way to find relief, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t know what it is.

It doesn’t matter. Not here, in this forgotten alleyway. Not with him.

The person who knows her the best.

The person she thought she knew the best.  

Aureia kisses him hard, her hands clasped around the back of his neck. He grunts, murmuring her name, the weight of his body heavy against hers as he presses her into the wall. His mouth abandons hers, leaving her cold and gasping for breath, only to close in on that soft, sweet spot beneath her ear. She inhales sharply, heat coiling deep within her, the urge to move overtaking her. Her hips move, grinding against him, an excited shiver running down her spine at the ragged sounds she draws out of him.

Thancred growls, the sound rumbling in her ear. His kisses consume her, his mouth roaming to the hollow of her throat. He slides hand beneath her coat, fingers tangling in her tunic, and yanks at the buttons. She moans at the touch and fiddles with the tie in his hair, loosening it with stiff fingers. He kisses her in response, his mouth hard on hers as he wrenches her neckline open and pulls the thin fabric of her bandeau down. Her skin prickles in the cold air, frozen by the chill yet warmed by the heat of his hand on her breast.

She curses, her body shaking, his name lost on her tongue. She pulls the tie free and drops it, raking her hands through his hair as she chases his kiss with hers. He groans, breathless, his hips moving against hers as he pushes her harder against the wall. Her fingers find the ends of his stupid bandana, the one he insists on wearing as an eyepatch for some gods damned reason he never cared to explain. She pulls it free and drops it to the ground.

Thancred slows, his body going stiff. He still pushes her into the wall, his hand is still on her breast, but otherwise he has frozen. Aureia draws back, her breath ghosting across his cheek, and meets his eyes.

One hazel. The other silver. And his look of dawning horror shatters her to the bone.

It isn’t until now that she finally understand what they have done. What they were about to do. Lost in whatever this unspoken thing lies between them, eating away at the remains of their friendship until there is nothing left.

“Aur,” he croaks. “I—”

Her eyes narrow. “No.”

He steps back immediately, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. His loose hair falls across his shoulders as he stares determinedly at the ground, waiting for her to cover herself. She grimaces, heat flushing her cheeks, and she fixes her bandeau and closes her buttons.

Thancred coughs, clearing his throat, and awkwardly picks up the discarded patch from the ground. Limp, stained, soaked in rainwater. “I…” he begins.

“This was a mistake,” she says firmly. “We can agree on that, yes?”

He looks away. “Would you rather hear the answer you want or the answer that’s true?”

She finishes adjusting her clothing. “Are they not the same thing?” she retorts, folding her arms.

He closes his eyes. “Why must you be like this?” he whispers. There is no love, no hate, no feeling in his voice. Only numb exhaustion. “Very well. I cannot… I will not agree.”  

“Don’t be an ass—”

“I told you I have made many mistakes in my life. Do not ask me to add you to that list.”

#HW patch era Aur is killing me slowly #this love triangle is making me feral do not send help #ffxiv #writing tag #aureia malathar #personal nonsense

[yolowritter]

Plagg's past holder is...Not Great™

Hello there everyone, and welcome back to another post! This here is a little something I cooked up for Plagg in "A Case of Ladybug Luck". To give some context, I very much consider the Kwami to be Gods, and treat them like it. So when the story moved towards exploring them further, I decided to write a piece of Plagg with a past holder. Yes, Sullivan's name is a Dark Souls 3 reference. I'm a nerd, sue me. Actually don't, I can barely pay for my readers' therapy. Anyway, this can be read as a standalone, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to post! Enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: Emotional manipulation, extreme apathy, plague and disease, and mass-genocide. Abusing Cataclysm is very dangerous to others.

A man sits on an old throne, inside a forgotten, crumbling keep. The roof has long caved in on one side of the chamber, letting the rain and thunder slip through the many cracks. The halls of this castle are silent, without so much as the squeak of a mouse to interrupt the heavy breathing echoing in the wind. His face is covered by a cracked helmet, one adorned with the faceplate of a panther’s skull. And the rest of the body rests inside an ever-rusting suit of black plated armor, decorated at the knees and shoulders by silver claws. Those very arms extend to wrap around the body, as if in a tired, pointless gesture of protection. Pontiff Sullivan sits upon his dusty throne on an eerily quiet night, with only the occasional strike of thunder to shatter the silence.

Beyond what tired eyes can see lies the rest of the keep, a forgotten Lord’s castle than once stood tall and proud. Moss and tangled vines have begun growing on the exterior walls, most of the windows blown to pieces by howling winds, and not a single soul’s footprint to be found. Rather, all Plagg can see with his endless eyes are the harsh claw marks on the ground, another result of his master’s choice of adornment. On the bottom side of Sullivan’s boots lay the jagged claws of a fierce black panther, a terrifying beast whose presence haunts every speck of air the God of Destruction can perceive. By his rough estimate, Plagg guesses it must have been at least two decades since even a stay cat set foot inside this old keep, at the top of a small hill overlooking a small town. Even the massive greatsword laying against the throne’s arm has been gathering dust, slowly eroding with the passage of time.

His master does nothing but sit on this very spot, has not moved in what the Kwami thinks may be weeks or even longer. All ‘round the ancient castle lay dark scorch marks of pure Destruction, one of which is visible through a half-crumbled wall just a few halls away. The howling winds continue to tear the keep apart one stone brick at a time, and Plagg is left only with memories. He recalls the battlefield, those very fields just outside the main gate. Said former testament to human engineering now lies ajar, with worms slowly eating at the wood it’s mad of. But once, many years ago, it had been the sight of war. Sullivan, then a young and determined knight, had finally gathered whichever friends could be mustered to retake his ancestral home from the boy’s uncle. Plagg cannot remember for the life of him if they were actually ever related by blood. Yet…the Kwami cannot find reason for the detail to matter. No, instead his jumps to Sullivan’s bravery and courage, to the sheer presence of shining gold that almost three hundred men had rallied behind. A kind smile and encouraging words had appealed to morals and knightly conviction once, the same features now lay hidden behind a faceless mask.

That boy…is gone now. Plagg knows as much, but is still tethered to this shell of a man, a shattered reflection of valiance twisted into nothing more than self-righteous foolishness. That was why, in the pride of his old age, Sullivan had sent his servants and knights all away to far-off lands, back when a single sliver of goodness still nested in his heart. The breastplate’s tattered cape billows in the wind as the Pontiff finally stands, armor crafted by the magic of Plagg’s Miraculous creaking with every movement. The Kwami feels himself strain as much as the metal plates, having held Sullivan’s pitiful existence together for so long that he, a literal God, has begun to long for the separation that so defined his kin before first contact with humanity. Truly, even being formless once again would be preferable to this horrible stagnation that permeated the very concept of Destruction.

With great effort, a single step is taken, and then another…and another…and another, until eventually the aging Pontiff’s legs have carried them both across the deserted halls and up a staircase that’s barely stable enough to hold a single man’s weight. It’s then, overlooking the surrounding lands from high above, that Plagg finally sees it. His Destruction, the echoes left behind by that great Cataclysm which brought Sullivan and his comrades victory, a gain in which the Kwami had once gladly shared. It’s been so long since he’s observed the full scope of that battle, if only because no mortal should be able to do the same. And yet, the Pontiff takes deep, ragged breaths as he gazes to the black flickers lining the grass, almost as if marking the ground with timeless scorches. Plagg feels it too, the subtle way in which they tremble in warning. He’s already known of course what any deviation from the throne-watching entails, but now it’s fully confirmed.

In the town below, a single traveler rests at a tavern, coughing lightly as if to clear his throat. Not a soul suspects, fewer have even heard the rumors, but what is death if not the slow, methodical destruction of physical matter? What is impending doom, if not something Plagg can feel? The stormy night goes on, and a blinding flash of thunder splits the skies as Sullivan begins to raise his arms. Trembling old bones and half-shattered armor both creak in protest, much more resistance than the God of Destruction can bother mustering. Still, the Pontiff manages to raise his clawed gauntlets up to an opening in the crumbling watchtower’s stones, and murmurs the word under his breath.

Cataclysm. A notion that Plagg had once been proud to personify, when that very same power had turned a legion of bloodthirsty, half-mad men to dust right before Sullivan’s eyes. The Kwami had used it then in desperation, this flicker of divine power. To save his Holder, a brave man he’d grown far too attached to for anyone’s good. With golden hair to match the aura surrounding the young knight, and green eyes glimmering with brilliant rays of hope as banners were raised in victory…Plagg had failed to see the darkness skulking underneath. That same evil was now made manifest in wisping black smoke ‘round the old Pontiff’s clawed arms, with a pained grunt as viscous veins of inky puss flickered to life all across his body.

The once rosy tint of the boy’s cheeks had long been stolen, replaced with a pale, ghastly complexion fit only for the horror stories told about the many creatures which had great aversion from the sun. Plagg hadn’t bothered to learn what the folktales were calling them this century. The black energy crackled all through Sullivan’s body, sapping both his and the Kwami’s lifespans to bring forth the very power that even a God like him had grown to fear. Of course, Plagg had heard the justification countless times, so many that he had truly began to lose count faster than Sullivan lost his mind. Yet it mattered little, when the dark mist of Cataclysm spread throughout the air, carried by howling winds all the way to its unsuspecting victims.

A raspy cough nearly tears through the Pontiff’s lungs, and he desperately clutches a crumbling wall to stay upright. “It’s a mercy, Plagg. They are all sick, and I am the cure…” he speaks the words with a conviction the Kwami once admired, and falls silent once more. In the town below, the Plague has begun to spread, from the traveler to the innkeeper, and then to another. The swirling dark mists flood the air around the slumbering villagers, and Plagg feels each and every bright soul disintegrate into absolutely nothing, leaving naught but tiny specks of ash.

#miraculous ladybug #a case of ladybug luck #ao3 fanfic #plagg #past black cat holder #kwami as gods #abuse of miraculous powers #can you tell im mentally ill #and a menace to society? #but hey thats just a theory #anyway yeah #I'll post more acoll soon #just wanted to share #this magic moment #of ripping off Dark Souls