#i hate drawing clothes.... it's just... takes forever

[amourtoken]

ykkkkkkk I've been sitting on these thoughts for a while and bounce back and forth between shit so let me just write it out finally.

Here are some Eepy boy HC's of mine

(No edits, we die like men)

*nsfw below the cut, MDNI*

Vessel:

he's definitely the most primal, but I feel like he sees any kind of sexual activity as something to be taken seriously. It's an act of devotion, he's worshipping your body and plans to treat it as religiously as it sounds.

he uses his size to his advantage, big hands splaying across your torso while he's above you or running down your spine as he manipulates you into whatever position he likes. When he's fucking you from behind he can drape his entire body over your back. Loves picking you up like a toy and fucking into you like you're weightless. His favorite position is some variation of London Bridge (has nothing to do with being British but yk)

Speaking of size: the man is packing. Not like this comes as a surprise, you can see him pretty clearly through his usual stage clothes bur seeing him undressed is a different story. His body paint fades the further down his hips you go and frames his cock so nicely. He's about 8 inches and fuckin thickkkkk. Usually I'd say this is a cliche, but he's huge and lanky, ofc his cock is included. He loves pressing his hand on your lower stomach during sex and feeling how far in your guts he can get, makes his head spin when he can see the bulge just below your navel.

Part of being so primal, breeding kink. Every time he fucks you, he's got purpose. He's holding your hips so tight you thought he'd draw blood, fucking into you and dragging you to meet his thrusts halfway. He's draped over you, whispering disgusting praise in your ear about how good you're taking him, how beautiful you are and how much more so you'd be full with his kids. The thought of you bring claimed so permanently has his cock twitching and leaking

this mf has an oral fixation like no other. Needs to feel you between his teeth or taste you however he can, constantly leaving messy kisses all over your neck and chest or leaving littered bite marks all across your inner thighs. Loves having your nipples in his mouth, and dare I say spit kink? Likes seeing you messy and claimed however he can, how much more messy can you get than having him grip your jaw with his big hand and spitting in your mouth?? Alongside his oral fixation, he could happily live between your legs eating you like a man starved. He stops when he's done, not when you're begging him to cause you're cripplingly overstimulated.

Vocal. As fuck. This man cannot shut the fuck up!!! I think all the boys are vocal to a degree but he just can't help himself. Constantly whispering and humming against your ear about how beautiful you are, how lucky he is, all the depraved things he plans on doing to you in painstaking detail. During the act, he praises you nonstop and pants pathetically. The closer he gets the more it seems he struggles for air, voice catching in his throat and moans pitching higher until he actually cums which is when he makes the most head spinning animalistic sounds. High pitched whines mixed with deep chested growls and broken whimpers when he digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises and presses his head back into the sheets ughhhh :((((

Big on aftercare, not that he would've been degrading but he can still be intense and wants to be sure you're cared for. Holds you close and continues whispering praises against your skin, he feels blessed to have you. Presses kisses to your temple and cheekbones while breathing in your scent and sighing heavily. He could stay here forever happily.

ii:

ii my beloved ugHhh

I hate to say it but he's a lil mean lol

He comes offstage so fucking amped sometimes, he would never ever hurt you (without you asking) but I'll be damned if he isn't rough. He takes his extra energy out on you, which you happily take. Your dynamic is definitely on a dom/sub plane and he thrives in that dominant caretaker role.

Very touchy. Always has a hand on your thigh if you're sitting near him, lacing his fingers with yours, brushing your hair back behind your ear, sometimes he'll walk up behind you and hold you by your hips, strong hands kneading the soft flesh before he presses a kiss to your temple and heads off. He'd glue you to his lap if he were allowed, you're his baby he's gotta take care of you and it's much easier the closer you are.

Ass man!!!!

The touchiness extends to the bedroom. This man lovesss fucking you from behind and watching your ass ripple against his hips during every harsh thrust. He grabs handfuls of your hips and yanks you back against him to meet his thrusts, more often than not leaving Bruises where his fingers dug the deepest. His absolute favorite position is when he wraps an arm around your throat and drags you upwards, his chest to your back while he fucks into you, held up in a headlock. His free hand roams your body, tweaking your nipples or dragging orgasm after orgasm from you as he nearly abuses your pussy.

Not quite as long as Ves, but thicker. Solid 6.5 inches, but you can barely wrap your fingers around him. The stretch when he first slides in is enough to bring tears to your eyes and he fills you so so fucking good.

He's the least vocal of the group but that doesn't mean he's silent. He likes leaning in and whispering filth to you in public then acting on those words later. Loves how you flush pathetically as he walks off like he's done nothing at all. He's almost condescending as he fucks you, teasing you about how loud you're being for him and how well you're taking his fat cock. You better be quiet, unless you want the other boys to hear? He constantly teases about how he should call them and have them watch as you unravel on his length, maybe they'd tease you for it too. You're just so sensitive, maybe they should all get a turn? Usually not big on moaning but will growl and groan from deep in his chest, breath catching as he cums and it sounds like all the wind was knocked from his chest.

Essentially collapses on top of you after he cums, might laugh as you whine in protest, cock still inside of you while you're both trying to catch your breath. Presses apologetic kisses to your neck and shoulders before pulling out. On nights where he's been particularly rough, loves catching a shower with you and massaging your spent joints. He's enamored by you, he feels so lucky to have you around and needs you to know.

iii:

Switch.

He's the most energetic, not necessarily the roughest but this man has some mf stamina that's for sure.

He's the most experimental. Always wanting to try new things out no matter what, be it toys, or new and somewhat odd positions. He always asks you beforehand of course, sometimes very nonchalantly as you flush pink and reprimand him for being so direct in front of other people. There have been many times where he'll plant himself on the couch next to you, tossing an arm on your shoulder before pointing his phone screen to you to show you an incredibly esoteric amateur porn or some new techy sex toy.

he's happy being in the dominant role most of the time but the moment you show signs of wanting to top him, the blood rushes from his brain directly to his cock so fast he nearly blacks out. Put this man on a leash and tell him he's a good boy while he fucks into you so desperately he could cry and he's the happiest he could be. Other days, he's got you bent into some strange position and growling out about how good you take him and what a good slut you are for his dick. (He apologizes profusely after the fact for calling you a slut but will absolutely do it again)

Breathy, whiny, high pitched moans most often. He's so fucking loud there's no way the others don't hear when he's hammering into you and near sobbing against your ear about how fucking good your pussy feels and how close he is. When you're topping, you're used to gagging him or holding a hand over his mouth while riding his cock just to get him to be a bit quieter. Both of these things only serve to make him louder as his cock twitches pathetically inside you.

Most likely to invite the other boys in for a threesome (or more). Loves getting to please you in more than one way, and can't help himself when he watches one of his band mates taking you. It's almost pathetic how hard he gets when he's watching you put a show on for him with one of them.

Not as thick as Ves or ii, but he's long lol. 7 inches and has a nice curve that always hits the right spots.

Loves when you pull his hair. Whether you're underneath him begging him to fuck you harder and switching between drawing blood on his shoulders and tugging his hair like it's the only thing holding you down to earth or you're lacing your fingers in it to direct him between your legs while he's lazily eating you out. Doesn't matter, makes his cock throb whenever you tug on it. Doesn't mind doing the same for you either, gathering a handful while he's fucking you from behind or pulling it all into a messy ponytail while he gags you on his length.

Cuddly afterwards. Always wants to hold you close and enjoy the afterglow. Presses kisses everywhere he can and reminds you how gorgeous you are and how amazing you are. Due to the fact he goes so many rounds in a row, he's the most likely to fall asleep afterwards, holding you tight to his chest while he dozes off.

iv:

Unexpected, this one.

He seemed reserved when you first got together but that's definitely not the case. He's been growing into himself as time goes and becoming more open to new things.

He's good with his hands onstage and off, his favorite past time his pulling you onto his lap and playing with your pussy until you're literally in tears. He'll hike your skirt up, yanking your panties off as he presses messy kisses to your neck and teases you by running his hands up and down your torso and thighs. He'll use one hand to spread you open and the other to tease your clit till you're shaking. Lovesss doing this in front of a mirror as well, wrapping a hand around your throat to keep your gaze on the reflection of him burying his fingers in your soaked pussy. He loves how easily he can melt you in his hands.

He's an enjoyer of discrete exhibitionism. Absolutely loves the Bluetooth vibrator he got you as a valentines gift one year, he's been reprimanded more than a handful of times for using it at the *worst* moment. Alternatively, loves knowing that just underneath the hem of your skirt or collar of your shirt you're absolutely covered in deep purple hickeys and love bites. Claimed as his and just out of reach for everyone else. He's taken you countless times in endless green rooms, dressing rooms, venue bathrooms, the list goes on. If he wants you, he knows you'll give in wherever or whenever he wants.

bringing mirrors back in, loves watching you from behind in the floor length mirror next to your bed as you're settled between his legs. Your lingerie frames your ass perfectly while you're sucking his cock, his fingers laced in your hair to guide you as he gently fucks up into your pretty mouth. Also absolutely adores fucking you from behind in front of said mirror, tugging your hair so you can watch as he fills you up so fucking good.

Groans and breathes heavily, very languid with his sounds but that doesn't mean he isn't enjoying it. iv prefers things to be deep and hard rather than fast and rough, so he's fine with taking his time. He'll roll his hips against yours just so he knows you feel the tip of his cock right against your cervix or he'll rub the tip of his cock against your lips before slapping it on your tongue. He enjoys the little details and the time it takes to really get to them.

He's the most well rounded of the 4, just as long as ii but comfortably thick and you swear he was made for you the way he feels when he's inside you. He buries his face tight against your neck when he cums, groaning harshly and grinding himself as deep as he can into your pussy.

He's gonna give you his oversized shirt to wear after he's done with you, adoring how you look in his clothes. He'll put on a movie you both enjoy and it won't take long before you both pass out even though you swore you'd finally finish said movie. He'll wake up before you to run you both a bath though and he swears he's the luckiest man alive to have someone like you around.

#Sleep token #Iv #Ii #Iii #Vessel #Sleep token smut #This isn't edited don't judge me #I literally had to write it out #The parasites

[starsmuserainbow]

Guess who just browsed through that one popular "ppl sell their crafts" just for the sake of it, and got thinking through that.

One of these days, I really should find the motivation together to at least try for once to make my own plush, or something. Idk. I just really wanna be able to have merch for my own characters, and how am I supposed to get that if not by doing it myself?

#✫ Out of Clurblopf ✫ | OOC #I can sew clothes - more or less - and I feel a plush takes a lot less artistic skills than drawing so uh yeah #also fun fact; there is nothing really at all in these regards in my region #so even if I would go to a website like that for getting these custom merch thingies #I'd have to pay the crazy shipping costs too and I'm just; I hate it #I hate that all the cool things usually are so very very far away from here #and I just can't get them or at least not without paying a lot more (plus waiting #forever and praying the stuff actually even comes bc far way to go) and just ugh #I wish I could just do these things easily by myself; that'd be so cool #not only plushies; figures too; when I see ppl making custom dolls or nendos or whatever that's so amazing man

[rogueddie]

"Something is really wrong with Steve," Robin says.

The party look up, startled. They wait for her to continue, but she starts pacing nervously. It immediately sets the kids on edge, glancing at each other uneasy.

"What do you mean?" Dustin eventually speaks up. "Is he... ill?"

"No, no, it's... his parents came home, right?"

"Yeah, we know," Max snorts. "Dustins mom had to ban him from the house because he wouldn't leave."

"He can't avoid them forever," Dustin points out. "I get that it's hard to talk to them when you have to lie all the time but they're, like, paying for all his shit."

"No they aren't!" Robins voice cracks. "They cut him off years ago! Dude, he hates them and now he's writing up a resignation letter so he can go work for his dad."

"Why is that a bad thing?" El asks, eyes a little wide.

"He'd have to train for a few months in New York for one."

"New York?!" All of them burst out. They all try to speak at once, loud and panicked. They're so loud that Hopper bursts out, confused and tired and panicked.

"What the hell is going on?" He snaps.

The kids all look a little guilty. El stands up so he looks at her. "We are worried about Steve."

"What? Jeez, that's what you're yelling about?"

"He's moving away!" Mike snaps. "To New York! For months!"

Hopper frowns at him like he's not making sense. "New York?"

"To work with his dad," Robin adds. "I didn't know if I should talk him out-"

"They're back?" Hopper asks. He's gone still, voice devoid of emotion and dangerously calm. "How long?"

"A month? Maybe more, it-"

"And they're home now? Do you know if Steve is there with them? It's not one of his shifts, is it? That'd make it easier."

"What? No, he's home. Make what easier?"

Hopper ignores the question, grabbing his coat and shoes. "Stay here, I won't be long."

He ignores the questions that grow frantic and panicked when he picks up his gun, stomping out the door at a fast pace. Robin is yelling from the door as he climbs into his car. She's too taken aback to even begin to think of how to answer to avalanche of questions the kids throw at her.

Hopper gets to the Harrington house in record time, having sped just a little to get there. Mrs Harrington is the one who opens the door and looks a little guilty when she sees him.

"Where is he?" Hopper asks.

She steps back, letting him in. "In his room."

Hopper pushes past her, taking the stairs two at a time. Steve is sat at his desk when he enters the room without knocking, head snapping up and looking startled. He looks a little ashamed when he realizes that it's Hopper.

"Hop," Steves voice is strained. He frowns when Hopper ignores him, pulling his closet open. "Uh, Hopper? What are you doing?"

"Taking you home," Hopper mutters. He pulls out the three bags he knows Steve has been keeping hidden, just in case. "Come on, pack up."

"I can't just-"

"Yes you can. Pack. Up."

Steve only hesitates for a moment. He slowly fills up one with his few sentimental things and some things he considers important (his scoops uniform, the drawings from Will). Hopper stuffs the other two with clothes. It doesn't take them long.

"I'll come back for the rest, if you want any of it," Hopper hands Steve his car keys, waving him toward the stairs. "Wait in the car. I'll be a minute."

Steve hesitates at the door, glancing between Hopper and his mom. He leaves though, doesn't say goodbye.

"Right, here's what's going to happen; I'm going to come back for the rest of his things. I've seen that room, I'll know if somethings missing. And that shit is his, don't try to bullshit me." Hopper eyes her with visible distaste. "He's an adult now. You can't take him back and if I hear that either of you've been trying to harass him again, I'll press charges."

She nods, which is enough of an answer for him. He throws the two bags in the back with the third before climbing in the drivers seat. The air is thick with tension as he pulls out the drive, starting the drive back to the cabin.

"Um... could you, uh, drop me off at the trailer park?" Steve asks, quiet and timid in a way that is horribly familiar to Hopper. "I, uh... I need to see Eddie."

Hopper grunts. He grits his teeth to stop himself snapping. It wouldn't be fair on Steve. So he drives him there, quiet and tense.

"Thanks," Steve mumbles.

But Hopper climbs out too, gently grabbing Steves jacket lapels to drag him over to the Munsons trailer. Hopper knocks.

"Oh," Waynes eyebrows raise. He looks Hopper up and down before turning his eyes on Steve, who he gives a soft smile. "Harrington, you doing alright?"

"No," Hopper answers for him. "Could we come in for a moment?"

"Sure?" Wayne shuffles out the way, shutting the door behind them. "Eddie's in his room, if you want me to get him?"

"You want your boy to see?" Hopper asks Steve.

Steve ducks his head, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. He mutters, "he probably will anyway."

"Ok. Do you want him here for this?"

"Here for what?" Eddie asks, hovering in the doorway, worried. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Steve tries to say. "It's... really, it's nothing."

"Steve," Hopper calmly says. Waits for Steve to look back at him, simply raises an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Hopper, it's fine, really."

"Where?"

Steve tries to stare him down, unsuccessfully. He huffs, annoyed, glancing at Wayne and Eddie who, understandably, look confused.

He slowly takes his jacket off, keeping his eyes on the floor. There's a sharp intake of breath when the dark, almost black, bruises on his arms are revealed. They litter the entirety of both arms, the ones around his left wrist and right bicep standing out the most- the ones shaped like hands.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, walking forward slowly. He's careful, brushing his fingers against his skin. "Oh, baby, who did this?"

"It's fine," Steve tries to insist.

Hopper clears his throat though. "Where else?"

Steve doesn't try to argue this time. He grabs the back of his collar, lifting his top off. His ribs have the worst of his bruises.

"Fuck," Eddie carefully, gently, pulls Steve into a hug. Presses gentle, ever so soft kisses to his neck. His hand is just as gentle when he rubs his back. Steve clings to him, grip looking almost painful, but Eddie doesn't complain.

Hopper turns to Wayne, who is also pointedly looking away so the two can have their moment. "His parents are gonna try to find him. Direct them to me if they try here."

"Don't worry about Steve," Wayne glances at the pair, still wrapped around each other, at the bruises. "Worry about them. If they try to come by here, they'll be leaving in a body bag. I'm sick of assholes treating my kids like this."

Hopper looks over at Eddie, who's pulling back so he can hold Steves face, eyes painfully understanding. He nods at Wayne, pats his shoulder. "I'm getting the rest of his stuff, he's got no reason to go back there. It's my cabin he's coming home to."

"I'll drive him there myself," Wayne glances at the pair, who think they're being subtle and sneaky as they giggle their way towards Eddies room. "Tomorrow."

Hopper chuckles, glancing towards the hall the two disappeared down. "Tomorrow."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #jim hopper #ficlet #angst #steves asshole parents #well #hopper and wayne are steves real parents now #hurtcomfort

[vampiresfromxenon]

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words 

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

~

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse. 

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment. 

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag. 

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought. 

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching. 

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out. 

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away. 

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment. 

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact. 

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual. 

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion. 

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally. 

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm. 

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand. 

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off. 

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered. 

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out. 

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you. 

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason. 

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time. 

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more. 

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you. 

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood. 

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin. 

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent. 

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while. 

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.  

-

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion soft #astarion fluff

[punkshort]

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #requests

[retrocesosdestacion]

SOCIALIZING PROBLEMS. | mapi león

mapi león x reader

genre: not fluff at all, accidental confession, teenager love.

warnings: a bit of headcanon, reader being a stupid curious, mapi confessing unintentionally, also mapi being an assertive/passive person.

notes: i had this prompt when i was cooking an egg. dios im really sorry for making u guys wait too long, also i feel like this is the worst writing I've ever done in my life.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You are secretly Mapi's love and you have negative impressions about her.

But that ended when Maria accidentally left her sketchbook on the bench at the locker room.

“ If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever. ”

Tennyson.

❝ Damn. Mapi, you should become an artist. ❞ From the other side of the locker room, you could hear Pina's lips praising the spanish's drawings once again.

It was already the fifth time that day that someone had praised the scribbles in that notebook. And you too, but only in your head. You didn't even have the courage to go there and see the drawings.

Two years ago you were transferred to Barcelona. Everything was normal, you made friends, adapted to the Spain style, adapted to new rules.

But you didn't adapt to Maria León. You didn't have the slightest ability to go up to her and have a chat lasting more than two minutes.

Normally you just greet her, that's when you don't even look at her face. Anyone who saw the two of you together would pinky swear that hated each other.

This was all because in your little mind, Mapi had the greatest disinterest in you. After all, you came to this conclusion when you noticed that the defender always ran away from the conversation when you arrives.

However, over time, you accepted this treatment from the spanish woman, even if you were curious to understand the player. You even told this whole situation to Ona, your best friend.

But it was always the same dilemma: “Relax, she’s shy. “ or “ Mapi has difficulty meeting new people. “

Yet that never made sense, after all, Mapi is anything but bashful.

It became a huge snowball since you never bothered to go talk to her. Therefore, currently your relationship with Mapi is completely lacking affection.

And it was just with you.

Claudia, for example, was one of the lucky ones. She was glued to the blonde's side, attentively observing each page of the spanish woman's small notebook with the greatest freedom and comfort.

At that moment, the defender had both feet on the bench, so she could rest the notebook on her knees. Mapi slowly leafed through the drawings for her friend once again.

❝ Yo ya te dije, who knows in a few years. ❞ (I already told you.) León reply to the other spanish woman's compliment with a very hopeful tone, as part of her dream was to be a tattoo artist.

As always, you just looked at the two girls talking, as you sat, untying your boots.

❝ If you look for longer, you will have bad luck. ❞ Ona mocked your indeterminate stare. ❝ If you’re so interested, go there. ❞ She states while taking off her training uniform.

❝ Madness. She doesn't like me and you want me to suddenly get there? ❞ You threw those words into the air so quickly that Ona took a while to formulate something.

❝ Why do you think she hates you? ❞ Your friend countered.

❝ I've told you thousands of times, Ona. She looks at me dirty, ignores me, she doesn't even want to talk to me even though I'm her training partner! ❞ You justify while gesturing nervously.

❝ Stop being fucking neurotic. ❞ The spanish woman rolled her eyes, finishing putting on her post-workout clothes. ❝ Ve allí, siéntate a su lado y descubrirás por qué te trata así. ❞ (Go there, sit next to her and you will find out why she treats you like that.) Ona stated.

You only knew the basics of spanish, deciphering what the defender had said would take a while. ❝ Huh, what? Find out what? ❞

Ona didn't respond, just giving you a stupid smile and a wink.

Slowly, the oldest left your side and walked towards Mapi and Claudia. The moment she got there, Batlle poked Pina's shoulder and approached, murmuring something in her ear.

❝ What the fuck are you doing?! ❞ You whispered to yourself, automatically standing up; scared and surprised.

Suddenly, you felt the greatest penetration of looking in your direction: Claudia Pina looked at you as if she knew all your secrets, giving you chills.

She smiled a huge and mischievous smile, raised her arm and waved it, calling you over.

Before you went, the only thing you observed was Mapi's embarrassed and awkward manner, grumbling at the two spanish women for calling you.

You thought for seconds before taking the step to go there. A whirlwind of thoughts ran through your mind, like a river heading straight for the waterfall.

What if you are a nuisance to her? What if she leaves the moment you get there?

You were very worried about the relationship with someone you don't even are intimate with.

You worry about the image you give to a person that don't even want to be your friend.

Thus, your heart began to run a marathon from the moment you started your very slow steps towards Mapi León.

Maybe you were afraid of hurting her, but at the same time yourself. As if your feelings were bubbling for the defender and you didn't want to ruin everything.

In your peripheral vision, the only notable details were María closing her notebook as quickly as a middle school student after the last bell, Claudia and Ona smiling goofily and pointing at the defender.

❝ What was it? ❞ Those were your first words when you reached the other side of the locker room, completely looking away from Mapi and just focusing on the other two.

❝ You're the only one on the team who hasn't seen Mapi's drawings, right? ❞ Claudia gave the first word, pushing León's shoulder with her elbow.

You didn't even bother to answer correctly, just opening a painful smile.

❝ Yes, I think so. ❞

After you responded, Mapi frowned, rolling her eyes. This only made you more certain that León actually hated you.

❝ But there's no need to show it. I mean, I'm not interested. ❞ They were the stupidest words that came out of your mouth.

The shine in Mapi's eyes slowly faded with each word that left your lips, the spanish woman's fingers ran to the back of her neck, uncomfortable. At this point, you should be sure that you almost hurt the girl.

❝ Don't be like that. Come on Mapi, show it. ❞ Ona finally said something in the midst of the discomfort of that conversation, lightly patting the other spanish woman on the head.

❝ I'll show you later, I need to pack my things. ❞ Maria came up with the most false excuse possible, since her things were almost one hundred percent ready. León's fingers rested on the slap, giving Ona a dirty look.

Your eyes fell on Claudia and Ona, indignant at all of this.

But you didn't know why. It wasn't as if the lack of communication between two companions would cause such great discomfort.

There was something more, you could feel it. Such something else that even Ona hides from you.

❝ Dios mío, esto es horrible. You two look like children who don't know how to talk to each other. ❞ (Oh my god, this is horrible.) Claudia gave her opinion amidst the silence.

❝ Son como dos chicas enojadas. ❞ (They're like two stupid girls. ) Batlle added.

Mapi stood up delicately, pulling the bag that was previously on the floor to the bench and opening it. ❝ Could you two shut up and get out of here, wouldn't you? ❞

The spontaneous rudeness really took you by surprise, mainly because the defender was staring at the other two, but not at you.

Pina raised her hands in defense, expressing a mere comical sadness on her face. ❝ Right. ❞

The same thing for Ona, who reached for the strap of her sports bag and put it on her left shoulder. ❝ Come on, Claudia. And don't be stupid with [reader]. ❞

❝ Que se jodan ustedes dos. ❞ (Fuck you two.) Mapi grumbled as she mock-rifled through her clothes.

Ona grabbed Claudia's arm and pulled her tightly to her feet, slowly dispersing herself from you and Mapi over time, killing the last few minutes. ❝ See you later, [reader]. ❞

Your eyes screamed for help to leave together, following the two girls until they left the main door.

Okay, now you were alone with the girl you were most afraid of.

Gradually, some people and groups would leave within minutes. Silence now, which had previously been scattered conversations, was prevailing, and that was delicious on the one hand.

After all, you loved being alone at times like this. But not with Maria.

You continued standing until Mapi offered you the bench next to her, and you did so. When you laid eyes on the spanish woman, you noticed her fingers pressing against her own temples, circling fingerprints there.

❝ I'm sorry about them. They are two idiots. ❞ León murmured as she took her fingers back to the bag, closing the zipper.

❝ Alright, no problem. I'm used to it. ❞ You responded with a typical defensive tone, unaccustomed to this type of conversation with her.

Your fingers tapped upper thigh, nervous and anxious, waiting for some miracle.

Momentarily, the spanish woman's brown globes rested on you, followed by a big sigh.

❝ I'm sorry if I'm stupid with you. And it's also bad if I didn't show you the drawings, it's just that— ❞ The defender was interrupted when Patri shouted her name.

❝ Hey, Mapi! ❞ The spanish woman appeared through the door of the main hallway. ❝ Can you check for me if my boots are dropped on the field? ❞

Maria looked at you with a roll of her optics, also accompanied by a tiny and shy smile. ❝ I'll be right back. ❞

The spanish woman slowly went to the gate that connected the changing room and the field, leaving you there freely in the area.

A dead silence remained there, there was no one else but the two of you inside that locker room, and now, only you.

Your body was still warm from training, but it could be for countless reasons, maybe because of your sudden meeting with Mapi, because of the fear of everything that happens in other conversations, happening now.

Eyes slowly took in every detail of the locker room: the ceiling, the floor, all the other stalls and even your bag on the other side.

But your orbs left for your side, where Mapi's unopened bag accidentally was. And of course, the damn sketchbook.

No, no. This is terrible, a lack of privacy. Your desire to leaf through that notebook was greater, but you should be aware.

It was only a matter of time before Mapi came back and finally opened that notebook, there was no point in leafing through it before then.

But despite everything, you were a very, very curious person.

❝ Damn. ❞ You muttered to yourself, intertwining your fingers so that you unconsciously wouldn't reach for the notebook.

But, well... Your eyes darted from side to side, making sure Maria wasn't there.

Your hand rested on the notebook, at the same time your heart accelerated so quickly as a result of your comportment. You should go back.

Slowly, you opened it enough so you could peek at the drawings. Incredibly, they were drawings of outlooks and Mapi's cats.

Despite everything, it wasn't that bad. ❝ Damn. ❞ You mumbled.

Suddenly, a folded sheet of paper fell from the middle of the pages of the notebook, falling to the floor. Your face produced a confused expression until the moment you reached the sheet.

At the same time that you were almost putting the sheet back from where it had fallen, you unfolded it.

Your heartbeat increased from the moment you caught sight of your name written there, along with a drawing of yourself and several doodles in the surrounding area.

Initials together, stick drawings of the two of you together that you were sure Claudia and Ona had scribbled, your name was written in every color there was.

There, maybe you realized why Mapi never showed you the notebook. Why Mapi hated being by your side when she was with the girls.

You could feel your face burn, turning red little by little, until it was like a pepper.

Immediately, you threw your hands up to your face, along with the sheet. You breathed once, twice and three times until you understood the situation.

❝ Shit. ❞ You mumbled to yourself with a muffled tone, still with your face hidden in your hands.

Your body slowly slid down the cabin wall, rethinking all the impressions you always had of Mapi.

You folded the sheet back and hid it in the notebook again.

Suddenly, Maria's figure slowly appeared in the locker room, mainly due to the sound of her footsteps.

Your torso rose, you became so desperate that you completely forgot to let go of the notebook in your hand.

Mapi slowly stopped walking and stopped in the middle of the locker room the moment her eyes fell on your hand with the notebook.

Slowly, her lips opened ready to say something. However, the spanish's internal desperation probably prevented this.

❝ I didn't see anything, I swear. ❞ Was the only thing you could say before throwing the notebook back onto the bench and waving your hands in defense.

Maria completely changed her route, walking quickly towards you. The moment she reached you, the player grabbed your hands and squeezed.

❝ Puedo explicarlo, en serio. ❞ (I can explain it, seriously.) Mapi stuttered between words and even forgot to say them in english.

The spanish woman's face didn't even bother to hide her embarrassment. You could feel the player's fingers trembling and of course, the strong desire to cry.

❝ I thought it was cute. ❞ In the midst of all the tension, these were your stupid words. Giving a short smile, which perhaps calmed León.

❝ What? ❞ Mapi asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

❝ The drawing. ❞

❝ But you said you didn't see anything. ❞ Maybe you didn't expect her to be so naive.

❝ I'm not going to lie, I saw everything. ❞ You answer with a defensive intonation, after all, you had no idea what would happen from now on. ❝ Even those scribbles on the sid— ❞

❝ That was the girls idea. ❞ Mapi justified it so quickly, was probably true.

It was at that moment that you realized that María León was not angry or disgusted with you. Mapi was actually in love with you and was ashamed to admit it.

This all explained the insults and scandals she made whenever the girls played with her. You were the concern of all the jokes.

❝ Right. First breathe. ❞ You advised the spanish girl to calm down, after all, she was shaking more than anything.

❝ Let me explain, please. I don't want you to get it wrong. ❞ Mapi begged to hold an explaination.

❝ Go ahead. ❞

❝ I'm not some kind of stalker, okay? I only drew you because, well… Because I like you and I thought you were pretty. ❞ The defender gets confused in her own words.

You were sure that wasn't what she wanted, Mapi didn't want to confess like that stupid way.

❝ But I completely understand if you think I'm crazy like that... ❞ Mapi slowly closed her eyes, trying to throw all the despair inside. ❝ Dios mío, ¿qué carajo estoy diciendo? ❞ (Oh my god, what the fuck am I saying?)

❝ Hey, it's okay... I guess. ❞ You tried to calm down from the moment you felt León's fingers slowly slip from your hands.

Your mind enfolded the sight of Mapi in front of you, it was the only thing you could pay attention to.

Heart felling affliction, a feeling full of pity for the whole situation that Maria went through made you think a lot.

While you had the wrong impression of her, Mapi couldn't control own feelings.

❝ I don't know what to say about all this. ❞ You produced a sentence where you could try to be understandable with it. ❝ I thought you hated me. ❞

❝ What? Why?! ❞ León was really shocked.

❝ Huh… You always sounded or looked ignorant to me. But it wasn't bad, I had the wrong impression. ❞ Your lips moved automatically, everything you kept about her these two years finally escaped.

Mapi gave a short smile, perhaps your words sounded funny. ❝ Yo nunca debí contarles a Ona y Claudia sobre ti. ❞ (I should never have told Ona and Claudia about you.) The spanish woman muttered to herself, but you still understood.

❝ And now knowing that you like me was such a turning point. ❞ You explained yourself without letting go of Mapi's hands for a second. ❝ By the way, about that… ❞

❝ No need to explain yourself, I'll understand if you don't reply— ❞

❝ No. I want it. I mean, I think you won my heart after seeing your drawings. ❞ Your typical comedic tone caused few laughs between the two of you.

❝ And also, it really hurt me to get the impression that you hated me. I've been making you a fool all this time. ❞ You continued.

Mapi León paid attention to every word that left your lips. There, you noticed how the player stopped shaking and stuttering, finally taking comfort.

❝ No. I understand, I would have that impression too if I saw all of this. ❞

❝ But I hope we can go back and start over from scratch. ❞ You looked for the solution.

Despite everything, Mapi was very understandable with words, she just needed time to express herself.

Suddenly, León's brown orbs looked to the side, perhaps worried about something. ❝ I think we better go, I need to tell Patri about the boots. ❞

Mapi let go of your hands, and for a moment you didn't like that feeling. The spanish woman's fingerprints grabbed the famous intriguing notebook, putting it back in her bag.

Initially she carried the bag on her shoulder, waiting for you to do the same. Your feet lifted and strained toward your own bag, but immediately returned to Mapi's side.

❝ If you want to start from scratch, come with me. I'll stop at a coffee shop before heading home. ❞ León opened a genuine smile, extending her right hand towards you.

You got the signal, and you did it. Your long fingerprints met Mapi's, intertwining them.

❝ Yes, please. ❞

Maybe you should leave everything in the hands of time and, gingerly, the two of you would transform disagreements into affection.

Gradually, your relationship with Mapi stopped being lack of love and became the fruit of devotion. Walking alongside her was the best opportunity for that.

❝ ¡Quiero un frappuccino, por favor! ❞ (I'd like a frappuccino, please!) You used the spanish words that you knew, asking with a great enthusiasm. After all, from now you would use that dialect a lot more.

Really more.

#woso #barça femeni #mapi león #fc barça #spain wnt #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon #mapi león x reader #mapi leon x reader #maría león #fcb femení x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

[blackleatherjacketz]

John

Homelander x Female Reader

Summary: Homelander gets jealous when you take a new lover with the same name as him, and makes sure you remember who you belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only! Mature/Explicit Content, Dark Themes, Homelander Should Be His Own Warning! Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Stalking, Obsessive Homelander, Jealousy, Threatening, Choking, Intimidation, Dubious Consent, Fear Kink, Breaking and Entering, Kissing, Possessive Homelander Ripping Your Clothes Off, Vaginal Sex, Hate Fucking

Word Count: 2k+

Read more HOMELANDER

A cool and sudden breeze blows in from the hallway as you finish brushing your teeth, telling that you somehow forgot to close a window even though you distinctly remember checking each and every one. You wipe your mouth and grab the heaviest item closest to you, a large cylindrical Virgin Mary candle as you reluctantly venture out into your bedroom, scanning it for intruders before padding out into your dimly lit living room.

“I hope you don’t plan on hitting me over the head with that thing.” His familiar voice booms in your chest as he closes your balcony door very slowly before confidently stepping toward you. “Because that really wouldn’t work out well for you.”

“Homelander,” you greet him shakily, his tone making you unsure if him being here is better or worse than having a robber break into your apartment. “What are you…” you swallow hard as you still grip onto the candle. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” He smiles at you with malicious intent, the rage in his eyes barely contained by the false upturn of his lips. “Can’t I visit my best girl whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want?” You whisper back to him, still in shock that he’s come to visit you after all this time. It had almost been a year since he first saved you from that falling car, since he found out where you lived just to ‘check up on his favorite citizen’ in the middle of the night. It seemed like forever since he last soaked your sheets with his sweat, thrusting the gratitude right out of your body through sordid moans and needy gasps night after night for weeks on end.

But you were always ready to accept the fact that each deliciously torrid encounter you had with him could very well be your last, that someone like him could easily grow tired of someone like you… until that possibility finally became a reality. You figured that another woman had simply taken your place as his visits began to wax and wane, that someone younger or thinner had occupied his time and satisfied his needs better than you ever could. So when weeks had gone by without a sign or whisper of his presence, you decided that it was time to move on.

“Homelander, this is… you haven’t been here in ages. I thought that you…” You barely manage to stammer in your stunned state, his presence alone forcing your hormones to start coursing through your bloodstream.

“You thought, what, exactly? Hmm? That you could just move on with someone else because I was busy keeping you and the American people safe?” He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head as a disappointed sigh brews in his chest, morphing into a desperate laugh. “That you could just forget about me?”

Uh-oh.

The skin on your face and neck starts to warm up with that exquisite concoction of fear and arousal he always seems to draw out of you. You wish you could control how he made you feel, that there was some version of you, somewhere, that could resist him, but that was all part of his charm, now wasn’t it?

“Lose the candle, princess.” His tone is more serious than it’s ever been with you before, dipping down to a dark timbre you’ve only ever heard him use with his enemies.

“Yup.” You do as you’re told and loosen your grip on the candle without another thought, nearly dropping it onto one of your toes as it hits the floor with a dull thud.

“And you with a fucking investment banker of all people? I mean, really?” He scoffs, taking his time walking around your living room as he puffs up his chest. “I would have thought that you were better than that.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch his boots bend the hard wood of your floors, hammering home the heavy weight of the situation that you weren’t nearly as awake for as you needed to be.

“John,” you try to console him, taking a few cautious steps forward with an outstretched arm.

“John,” he repeats in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows. He chuckles to himself again, picking up one of the pillows on your couch before running his gloved hand over the crushed velvet. “The fact that you chose someone with the same first name as me is really fucking telling, you know that? If you missed me that much, you could have just called.”

“And just how am I supposed to do that? Huh? You made sure I couldn’t call you when you left here without a trace.” You cross your arms over your chest as he puts the pillow back down, reminding him of how he left things.

“Don’t you put this on me!” He bares his teeth as his eyes glow red, pointing a finger at you before that warm hue quickly subsides.

Holy shit, you’re in trouble.

“I’m sorry,” you try.

“You’re sorry?” He smiles as if to shake off any real emotions he may have about the situation, tying your stomach into knots in the process as you try to keep up with his ever changing moods. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it was for me to hear you screaming that name when I wasn’t the one inside you?”

Your heart falls out of your chest, sinking down to the very pit of your stomach as his words hit your ears, weighing you down so that you can barely move. You had no idea that he cared that much about you, that he would even think to drop by after being away for so long. But why did he have to wait? Why did he have to hear…?

“I was going to visit you that night, but he was already here.” He spits, pointing to the doorway behind you. “In your bedroom of all places!” He takes a few more careful steps toward you, his eyes now burning his usual fiery blue. “It took everything I had not to destroy the both of you right then and there, but lucky for you, I’ve been working on my impulse control.”

All you can do is stare at him, lips trembling, unable to think of anything to say that won’t make him more angry than he already is. You swallow hard, quaking in silence as he advances on you, his jaw clenching in anger before he dared to speak again.

“You know, you really should have heard him beg for his life when I dangled him from the top of the Empire State Building.” He smiles so wide that the skin around his eyes begins to wrinkle, his canines appearing as fangs against his lips. “He even pissed himself before I dropped him from that high up. Pathetic, really. Load of good that big dick is now, huh?”

FUCK! What did he just say?

So that’s why the other John hasn’t called you in a few weeks; he wasn’t ignoring you at all, he was just… he was gone. You can only imagine how scared and confused he must have been as Homelander flew him up into the night sky one last time, the cool December wind biting at his cheeks. That is until he undoubtedly told him why he was doing it, because if you know anything about Homelander, you know that he made damn sure your former lover knew exactly why he was sending him to his death.

Homelander stops just short of your bare feet, towering over you as he places his gloved hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard before smoothing it up to your neck. He grins as he tightens his grip, leaning in close enough to whisper into your ear as he lets you think through the worst case scenario. “Now I don’t have to share you with anyone else anymore.”

You know that you should be appalled at what he’s telling you, that you should be absolutely sick to your stomach with fear and disgust, but fight and flight won’t do you any good against the most powerful man in the entire world. You’ve heard horror stories of those who have tried before you and failed, deciding in a split second to lean on your most trusted coping mechanism: fawn.

“You killed him… for me?” You lean into the idea of him being so obsessed with you that he couldn’t stand to have another man touch you in his absence; that you’ve haunted him well past the time since he left.

He pulls back to glare at you, surprised that you’re not more shocked about the news as his features shift from menacing to intrigue. For the first time since you’ve known him, The Homelander is speechless. You try to focus on the scent of his cologne as it swims through your nostrils, exciting every nerve in your body just like it used to as his thumb grazes over your windpipe, subtly threatening to end you right here and now as his eyes dart over your face.

“You sick fuck!” He whispers adoringly, grinning from ear to ear as he scans your vital signs for any biological tell of deceit. Unable to decipher the difference between the intertwined terror and excitement coursing its way through your body, he takes the hem of your t-shirt between his fingers, gathering the fabric together in his palm before quickly ripping it off your torso. “I knew you were just like me from the very first second I saw you. I could tell that you were different from everyone else, that you were special.”

He brushes his palm over your breasts, intently watching your nipples harden against the leather of his glove as he hungrily surveys every curve of your body. A look you know all too well paints his features with desire as he pushes you backward against the wall, the exposed brick cutting into the bare skin of your shoulder blades as you let out a surprised grunt. He chuckles before kissing your lips with a newfound intensity, his breath hitching into a needy moan as he tugs your underwear down your thighs, nipping at your bottom lip before ripping your panties off just as easily as he had your shirt.

All that anger and jealousy makes him take you that much quicker and harder than he ever had before, his superhuman girth stretching you to capacity before you can even blink. He glides inside your soaking wet walls in one fluid motion, making you forget about the other John entirely as he thrusts up into you with unmatched desperation.

“You’re mine,” he whispers before grasping onto your thighs, lifting them up around his waist so he can push even deeper inside. “From now on, you only fuck me! Got it?”

“Got it!” You cross your legs around his back, your feet getting caught in his cape as he bites his words into your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth until it nearly breaks against his tongue. You groan in ecstasy and run your fingers through his hair, holding him close as he latches onto you like a vampire, draining you of your very life force all while driving waves of delight through your viscera.

He continues sucking as many bruises onto your throat as possible, marking you as his for everyone else to see as he hits that precious bundle of nerves tucked away up inside you. His moans become more frequent as his needy, throbbing member brushes against your cervix with each tantalizing pass, shooting an electric tingling sensation up your spine and into the rest of your body. Every single thrust up into you seems to be fueled by his hatred for you and this situation; that palpable ferocity tainting your carnal reunion with just enough force to send you shaking and shivering over the edge just a little earlier than you expected.

“John!” You whimper as he drills each vengeful burst of pleasure up into your core, setting your skin on fire as you violently convulse around him.

“No,” he wraps his hand around your throat again, pressing his thumb into your deepest bruise as he glares at you with sweat dripping down his forehead. “You call me Homelander from now on.”

#homelander #the homelander #homelander x reader #antony starr #homelander x female reader #the boys #the boyz tv #homelander fanfiction

[comradekatara]

Genuinely asking—what changes would you make to the adult gaang designs? :)

this is such a fun question thank u for enabling me. i mean i draw them as adults sometimes so also check out my /oldergaang tag if u want visuals (altho i also change my designs a lot because my art is nothing if not inconsistent) but if i was just going with like standard character designs like if i could redesign that hideous “old friends” poster for example…

aang: get rid of that fucking. chinstrap. don’t give him white man features because what the hell is that. and let him wear his off the shoulder monk robes from book 3 because he was slaying with that fit. actually the way aang is drawn in imbalance is basically perfect i would retain that design into adulthood. thank u peter wartman for all that u do….

katara: i don’t mind the older katara design (from the little we see of it) but it’s also not nearly as cunty and slayful as i would like. katara is genuinely interested in fashion and loves experimenting with clothes and hair and makeup, i refuse to believe that as she ages and has more resources to tailor her style to her own personal tastes she wouldn’t get a little funky with it. like she kind of just looks boring and uninspired in her older design, and that’s unacceptable to me because she should be hot. adult katara should be the hottest woman you have ever seen in your life. and she should be buff, also. shredded, even.

toph: any signifiers of copness are obviously unacceptable to me. but even more that than, it’s very important to me that older toph is distinctly butch. i think she would cut her hair the second she realizes that there is no reconciliation to be found with her parents and that there is no reason to adhere to those confucian values. and she would wear a lot of sleeveless outfits (sort of like the shirt korra wears in “korra alone”) to show off her biceps and also space bracelet (spacelet) that is her prized possession forever. and she’s just kind of a hot hippie butch legend . period.

zuko: in the old friends poster he literally looks like a lizard so just like. no. wtf. and i like his long hair in theory but i don’t like that it’s styled after ozai and not ursa, i think his hair would be shwoopier and frame his face more. and his robes should be less spiky and militaristic and more designed for comfort because that’s what makes him feel most like his true authentic self and he deserves that. also weird for a guy who is trying to demilitarize the fire nation to wear an armor-adjacent type of outfit. so mainly he’d just look softer and more like his mom.

sokka: i hate buff goatee whitewashed sokka that is some kind of demon. lok did so little with him and yet said so much (all of it egregiously wrong, ofc). sokka would be fairly tall (although not as tall as aang) and have defined muscle but in a sinewy, lanky way. and despite always having enough to eat he’d still look somewhat malnourished just because he’s constantly overworked and exhausted and never takes care of himself. and his ponytail would be longer but he’d still shave the sides. and the older he gets the darker his clothes get until he basically just wears black all the time because at some point he realizes that it’s more advantageous to remain culturally ambiguous if he’s gonna be a cosmopolitan. and he wears glasses (which were a gift from kuei). and sometimes he uses a cane because he didn’t sufficiently take care of his broken leg after the war ended and now he’s paying the price for it. and his cane has a blade inside too, but he rarely ever even pulls out the blade because he can incapacitate someone with just a wooden stick anyway. so he looks like if a nerd was a shadow was about to collapse at any given moment was secretly ruling the entire world. and he’s not in any sort of front-facing position of power whatsoever but he’s actually pulling all the strings from behind the scenes, and it’s exhausting. his eyebags are visible from outer space.

suki: i don’t even think there is a “canon” adult suki character design besides her in her kyoshi warrior armor and makeup but to me casual suki just starts dressing more like sokka. like the loose baggy sleeveless shirts (except in a lighter shade of blue bc kyoshi island colors) and tight pants and boots. it’s a very dykey look already and they’re basically girlfriend twins so their styles would merge even more than it already has within the show itself. like sometimes people think that sokka and suki are siblings because they dress so similarly and give off such a similar vibe and they’re just like “but we’re literally different ethnicities??? and also we are currently making out????”

okay bonus round bc i can’t just neglect them

azula: she cuts her hair really short and as an adult leaves it to shoulder length for the most part because that’s more comfortable for her. like zuko, she also starts dressing for comfort, and for a period in her late teens stops wearing makeup altogether. she gets back into wearing makeup as an adult, but she stops caring about whether or not she leaves the house with lipstick on, and it becomes more about the process for her than the result. she’s comfy and cute and dykey.

mai: sokka is her lesbian style icon so after her first haircut that was inspired by toph’s haircut to piss off her parents, she gets an undercut and starts wearing her hair in a ponytail like sokka. as she gets older she also gets more confident in her body and doesn’t feel like she needs to wear baggy long-sleeved clothing at all times or she’ll die. and she isn’t rail thin as an adult either because she starts letting herself eat more than a single grain of rice at a time. also, she gets a sword.

ty lee: she becomes a kyoshi warrior so she starts incorporating more blues and greens into her wardrobe, but also more oranges and yellows after she embraces her air nomad heritage. and she just dresses very colorfully and has a vast rotation of different cute little outfits. and i think she’d also experiment with different hairstyles once she has the freedom to define herself outside of the aesthetics expected of her. she looks beautiful always

haru: he finally shaves that thang

#shadowoftheraven15 #asks #the gaang and #postwargaang #oldergaang

[contentloadingandstuff]

Discovering Your Past - Eula & Keqing x Male!Reader

In which they find out you were abused by your ex.

CW: Mentions of past trauma - physical abuse and SA. Modern AU. A/N: My fics are getting longer recently. I wonder if you guys mind?

Injuries are a natural part of life. 

A scraped knee, a concussion, a sprained or broken limb - all creatures will have to endure these hardships one way or another. And, as the saying goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Each wound leaves a scar, each fight or accident is a lesson for the future on what to do or avoid. 

What about those on the other end? Most feel regret about hurting others, are forced to do it or are convinced of their actions' justified nature. Yet among those are some starkly different cases. People who enjoy causing pain, be it physical or mental. And, undoubtedly, she was one of them. 

Fate had it that your heart longed for her. She was a beauty, benign and friendly, whose charms worked on you without fail. She pushed, she pulled, slowly dragging you into her web. Your mind was too clouded with feelings to notice just how badly she trapped you. Like a spider she wrapped you in silky touches and words of affection like in a cocoon, and you were completely oblivious to your situation. And that she was - an apex predator, an effortless liar and natural manipulator. She stoked the flames of family conflicts, estranging you from your loved ones. Friends? She gave you a simple choice - it's me or them. You were coaxed into signing off your house under her name, as she encouraged you to do with many of your belongings, until you had nothing. Time and time again she pulled your strings through your heart, backing you into a corner. Alone. Unable to escape. Without anyone to turn to, anywhere to get away. 

When your eyes opened at last, nobody was there to hear you scream. 

Years. It took you two whole years to escape her clutches, two years of cruelty hidden behind a veil of love. With only the clothes on your back and some Mora in your pocket, you set off to another nation. There, you found a new home, and a new love. Sweet, caring and warm. 

But wounds of the past cannot be hidden forever. 

You push the door behind you, closing it with an accidently loud thud. Eula kicks off her high heels and enters the hall, placing down her bag and taking her jacket off. You put yours on the hanger and move to take hers, but she sends you a sharp look and walks past you, doing it herself. 

The silence is tense. You know what you did. 

“Honey, listen. I know I shouldn't have started that discussion-” You try to speak, but she turns around and cuts you off. 

“Yes, you shouldn't have.” 

Her eyes send daggers towards you. Your heart aches at the sight of your lover so full of anger, all because of you. Her family wasn't easy to interact with. Her choice of career made her the pariah of the line, but after she married you, the relations seemingly normalized enough to make them liveable. Seemingly. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have. I mustn't do that ever again. I promise I won't.” You raise your open hands, as if showing you're unarmed. What was supposed to calm her down just irritates her. 

She scoffs and approaches you. “I say you are an intelligent man, but times like these are when I doubt it. What's so hard to understand in ‘my family isn't normal and the less you interact with them the better’?”

She's right. Eula has told you time and time again that the opinions her father, mother, grandparents, uncles and aunts hold are final. Nothing will change them, they won't ever back down. They are egomaniacal with a tendency to bring those around them down to elevate themselves. And yet, there's something drawing you to them, something natural that tells you that they can be a source of warmth. 

Because that's how things are supposed to be. A family should love each other, be united and supportive instead of polarized and hateful. Something in your soul doesn't seem to understand that you can't find any support in her side of the family. 

“I know, Eula. I try to-”

“Then your ‘trying’ is not enough!” Her voice elevates further. There is something building in your chest. The pressure crawls from your heart up through your throat, rotting itself inside your neck. A choking feeling. 

“Y/N, you shouldn't talk to them! Never, ever. You know how it ends, don't you? They bring you down, they hurt and belittle you. And you know that, don't you?” 

Her eyes are narrowed. She speaks louder now, her words coming from a place of compassion and love rather than hostility. Your mind, however, is focused on something else. 

Something familiar. 

Her tone picks up, and so does your heartbeat. She's almost screaming now. 

“Sorry, dear, but are you masochistic? Or just stupid?! I will have vengeance!”

Your hyper focused eyes spot movement. Her hand goes upwards, your chest sinking. Body stiffening, you turn your head down and sideways, exposing your cheek. 

Just as she taught you. 

Fighting back was pointless. 

You deserve it. 

You hold your breath. 

Silence. 

The blow doesn't connect. You hear the sounds of a barefoot step. You crack your eyes open. You see Eula has taken a step back, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. She blinks a few times and pulls her hand back towards her body. 

“Not t-that kind of vengeance.” Eula barely mumbles the words out in pure confusion. She shakes her head in disbelief, her gaze leaving you and dropping to the floor. “Never. I w-would never-”

You spring back to life, as if a grave threat or danger just vanished. 

“No no no, it's alright, honey. I just got a little scared of you, haha. It's fine, really!” You smile sheepishly, shame crawling under your skin. On reflex or out of habit, you rub your cheek. “Maybe I really am stupid, for being scared and all, you know?”

She takes a slow step closer. Her voice is far quieter than mere seconds ago, now down from a scream to a whisper.

 “No. Don't call yourself that. My… My emotions got the better of me, honey. I’m sorry.” Eula’s voice composes, worry furrowing her brow as she stretches out her arm towards you, this time taking care to do it slowly. “May I…?”

You smile and nod, letting the palm of her hand connect to your cheek. Her touch is gentle, fingers tracing your skin with utmost care. 

Your skin is so soft, so smooth, familiar. Her heart clenches, her mind holding no doubt about your reaction. You are not someone easily scared, nor are you particularly fearful of harm. Something, somebody…

“Who was it?” Her hand trails down smoothly, coming to rest on your shoulder. “Who hurt you?”

You shake your head. “What? What do you mean? Nobody, I’m fine-”

“I said…” She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “... who hurt you?” 

At an instant, the thoughts in your mind already form into a rebuttal, a measly attempt to cover the truth. But you know better than that. Eula isn't that stupid. 

You sigh, trying to figure out what to say. Seeing your hesitation, she places both of her arms on your shoulders, her eyes focusing on yours. Within her beautiful irises fading from deep purple to light yellow you find a steadiness worthy of a captain, but also a lover. 

“You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, honey.” She speaks softly, stroking your skin in calming circles. “I just need to know if justice has been served, or some additional, very particular and very severe vengeance needs to be added to my to-do list.”

“My ex-girlfriend is… She’s no longer a threat, alright?” You close the distance between you and Eula and embrace her. Your lover secures her arms around you right away, providing you with just the comfort you seek. “I just don’t want to go back to those days. They’re over and I just want to focus on you… On somebody that actually loves me. Somebody that doesn’t scream at me for no reason, belittles and insults me, and…”

Your voice trails off. Images and sensations rush through your memory. Every insult, every impact weighs on your voice, trapping it beneath the torrent of nightmarish memories. Eua squeezes you tighter. 

“Shh. Don’t think about it now, sweetie. You're here, safe in my arms. I promise to be your shield. However…”

Eula's characteristic pout forms on her face. 

“For not telling me about this, I will have vengeance.”

“That was a little shameful for me-” She cuts you off. 

“Silence. My retribution is nigh. For your transgression, I shall cuddle you and feed you ice cream while subjecting you to the terror of your favorite movie.” She narrows her eyes theatrically before gently, but firmly grabbing a hold of your wrist. “You cannot escape now.”

You smile in horror. 

The screen flashes with a jump scare as a curtain is moved aside. A disfigured monstrosity covered in black goo and rags opens its jaw to reveal a set of sharp, but surprisingly pristine teeth.

“Brains!” Its voice is clearly augmented in some way, deep and a little echoing. 

The punk screams at this sight but before he can do anything, the zombie grabs his head with its skeletal hands and bites down. The rest of the group squeals. The man's head is cracked open like an egg, filling the undead's mouth with fake blood and flesh-like props. 

“Oh my…” Keqing can't help but gasp a little, her arms tightening around your chest slightly. “That's a lot of jaw force…”

As the zombie digs into the man's brain, a joke comes to your mind. 

“He's not going to extract a lot of brain from him, is he?” 

In response, Keqing chuckles a little. “Yeah. But at least he is also quite brave. If not for him, that girl would have been the meal instead.”

“True, true.”

The movie continues. The female lead escapes the locker she was trapped in moments ago as her friend is being devoured. Another character throws an empty bucket of paint at the creature, making it fall back, before raising up and exclaiming joyously: 

“More brains!”

The kids scream and run away. Keqing, as much as she finds the movie interesting, can't help but recall one scene in particular. 

A smirk settles on her delicate features. “So… How's the movie? Do you like it?”

You nod vigorously. “Of course! It's a classic that I wanted to watch for a long time now, but never got around to that. And I can confidently say that I regret not watching it earlier. It's a lot of fun.”

Keqing hums in understanding. Her fingers, one of them brandishing a beautiful and intricate golden ring, slowly move up onto your leg. 

“Did you enjoy any scene in particular, honey?” Your eyes follow her hand as it moves up, each finger making a slow, deliberate step. 

Just a glance at her slight blush and sly smirk is enough to make you catch on, making your cheeks heat up as well. You gulp. 

“Well…” You start, but Keqing places a finger on your lips, silencing you. 

“Aw, sweetie~ I know full well how you were eyeing that girl. Your thoughts were betrayed by much more than just your stare.”

Her hands move up, sliding underneath your shirt and caressing your exposed chest. You feel her desire through her movements, careful, seductive, yet impatient at the same time. A little shiver of excitement crawls through your body. 

“Honestly, Y/N, I can't blame you. That redhead was quite a beauty, after all. ”

Her hands clench over your body as she rolls to sit on your lap, her eyes, twinkling with desire, pointed right at you. Keqing sends you a wink. Your hands settle on her buttocks. 

“But you see, my dear, you got me just a little too jealous to resist showing this handsome guy which girl his attention should be on~” Her hands shift to meet yours, fingers wrapping around your wrists. “So relax and let me have the spotlight~”

Your eyes widen as she hoists your arms off her and pins them to the wall above your head. You try to struggle away, but her grip is iron thanks to the additional strength provided by her Vision. An attempt to release your body from underneath hers fails as well. You're nervous - this never happened before. 

“Keqing, you're-” You start to say, but are interrupted by her right hand locking onto your throat. 

Your hands clench, eyes growing wide. You choke, any words of protest dying in your restricted windpipe. You look at Keqing, who smiles mischievously, completely oblivious to your discomfort. 

“What did I say? Bad boy!” She uses her other hand to pry yours off her choking arm. You relent, shocked and increasingly scared at her sudden roughness. “Now stay still, or you'll regret it~”

Tears form in your eyes as she leans and begins kissing and licking your cheek, adding small bites here and there. You close your eyes, not wanting to see what happens next. The feeling of her genuine affection recalls different images in your mind. The past and the present melt into one in your mind. 

As you lay helpless, Keqing continues loving you until her tongue hits an unusual note of salt on your skin. She pulls back and, upon seeing you crying, lets go of you right away. Her hands go to cover her mouth in an expression of pure horror. 

“I’m sorry! I’m… Oh Gods, I didn't mean to-!” 

You squirm away and, in response, Keqing jumps off of you. She reaches towards you, but ultimately stops herself. Shame, guilt and sadness light up her face, hidden behind her small hands. 

You wipe your eyes with your sleeve. By now your senses have returned. Her reaction brought you back at an instant. You get up and approach her. 

“Keqing, I'm sorry, nothing-” 

You're interrupted as she dashes past you. You can only call out to her as she runs to the bathroom and slams the door behind her. The sound of a lock turning halts your movements. 

You sigh and drop back down on the couch. The movie is still playing. Your ears pick up the sounds of soft sobbing from behind the bathroom doors. The heart tells you to get up, to talk to her, to knock down the door if need be, but the brain speaks with reason. She needs time, and you know it. It's better to let her calm down on her own. If you were to approach her now, she likely wouldn't speak to you, let alone open the door. 

Tears return to the corners of your eyes. Your heart aches at the sound of her pain. You can tell what she's thinking. That she's awful, dangerous, creepy, abusive. That it's all her fault. 

But the truth? She's not the problem. You are. 

The TV's noise irritates you. You turn it off and throw the remote across the room. Your head falls into your hands. 

How could you have done this to her? 

Why can't you just let go? 

Why are you so weak? 

A shaky sentence manages to make its way out of your lips. 

“It's all my fault.”

—

Deafening silence was all that filled the following hour when her crying died down. You went through every possibility of what would happen when the bathroom door would open. You planned what to tell her and how, you anticipated all of her possible reactions. You knew you couldn't fail again. You couldn't leave her in the dark and risk another incident like this. 

She shouldn't suffer because of me, you thought. It was your obligation to be transparent with your wife. Not like you weren't dying to apologize, to comfort her, to let her know it isn't her fault. But you were patient. 

When the door finally opened, Keqing looked abysmal. Her make-up was completely gone, first made running with tears, then washed away along with them. Her hair was a mess, not a trace of her usual prim and proper style left. Her eyes were red and barely open. 

You spoke gently. You hugged her, asking for a chance to explain yourself. She nodded wordlessly and you sat with her by the table. There, you told her everything. You told Keqing about your previous partner and about exactly what you suffered at her hands. Your wife was very quiet, but still nodded every now and then. From the shakiness of her voice when she spoke the few words in your conversation, you could tell she was stopping herself from bursting into tears again. Nonetheless, you continued until the story was told. 

“As such, Keqing, my wife, my love, the sun to my moon, none of what happened is your fault.” You continue, following the script you prepared in your mind. “It was my weakness and my inability to move on that caused all of this in the first place. For that, I’m… sorry. I truly am.”

She nods. Her eyes are focused on her hands, fingers fiddling with each other. Keqing slowly lifts her eyes to meet yours. You spot tears gathering on her features. 

“Why… I don't understand…” She starts, but upon realizing her instability, she sniffles and swallows the sadness weighing on her chest. “Why would you ever say that you're weak?” 

You sigh. “I should have moved on by now, but instead, I kept it with myself and now it hurt you as well. It is my pain and thus my responsibility to handle it.”

“No, n-no that's… How… How could someone such as you be weak?” She shakes her head. “You survived so much. So much pain, so much fear, so much hurt… And yet here you are, Y/N. Not only trusting another woman, a woman whom you not only married, but also allowed into your bed. I can't imagine myself doing something like that so quickly. You've moved on, honey. You regained the strength to trust and to love again. How can this be called anything but strong?”

You open your mouth to challenge her on this, but she acts first. 

Keqing breaches the gap between you and falls into your arms. Her body wraps around yours, holding onto you tightly. One of her hands travels to your cheek. 

“Y/N, you're strong. For having endured it, for having moved on, trusted again.” 

You drop your gaze. Perhaps she is right. Keqing gently lifts your cheek to direct your attention back at her. She smiles, her tearful eyes shining with boundless affection. 

“You're the strongest man I've ever known.”

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #angst #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin impact hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #genshin impact eula #genshin impact eula lawrence #eula lawrence #eula #genshin eula #eula x reader #eula x male reader #eula x you #eula x y/n #eula angst #eula hurt/comfort #genshin impact keqing #genshin keqing #keqing #keqing x reader #keqing x male reader #keqing x you #keqing x y/n

[callsignseagull]

all you had to do was stay ✪ part 7

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Summary: Six years ago Jake hit your life like a hurricane. In and out in a matter of weeks. You thought after you get over the disappointment of him leaving without saying a word you’d never think of him again. But then two pink lines change your life forever. Now he’s back and still has no idea that the little girl by your side is his daughter.

Words: 2k

Warnings: fluff, angst, me not knowing how the navy works lmao

A/N: Here’s part seven!! enjoy

feedback is always appreciated <3

series masterlist || masterlist

I love you, daddy.

The words have been repeating in Jake’s head ever since Josie uttered them. They’re what’s been keeping him going while mission training gets more intense. He spends every free moment with you and Josie, and he feels like you’re becoming a real family. He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his life. Not his first time flying a fighter jet, not when he graduated from the academy, not when he got to Top Gun the first time. This, being with you and Josie, makes him happy, gives him purpose. He didn’t know if he’d ever have kids. He’s thought about it when his first niece was born, but he didn’t have a partner, didn’t even date, so it seemed out of reach. And he thought maybe it was for the best. Little did he know he was already a father. When his eldest niece was born Josie was already a year old. And he had no idea. 

So now he wants to make up for lost time. And it’s starting to take its toll. He doesn’t get much sleep, but that’s the price he’s willing to pay to spend time with his daughter. And with you. 

He’s still focused at work, but it takes a lot more energy than usual. 

Coming back to Top Gun and finding out about Josie has changed Jake’s life in a way he never expected it to. And it didn’t only change his plans for the future but his priorities, too. Josie’s nightmare and almost kissing you the other night was an eye opener for him. He wants to spend as much time as possible with the two of you. Wants to be a real family. And now he feels like maybe he’s got a chance. That maybe you finally trust him again and that there are still at least some feelings for him left. He’ll do everything to make you his. He’ll wait forever if he needs to. 

He knows that his job will put a strain on things, that he won’t always be there when you need him. And he hates that. If it were up to him he’d never leave you and Josie out of his sight. Okay, that sounds a little creepy, but he doesn’t mean it in an overbearing way. He just doesn’t want to be without you.

He’s certain it won’t be easy for him to get the future he wants, to get the best of both worlds, but he’ll do everything in his power to make it happen. He’s already got the ball rolling on some changes. But he doesn’t know if it’ll work out. 

He’s got a long day of training ahead of him, the mission drawing closer quicker than he would like to, especially because he didn’t know where he was headed when he came back. If he came back.

He shakes his head, that’s no way to think about it. This is the most dangerous mission he’ll ever fly and there’s so much at stake. And he needs to get back to you and Josie. He needs to see Josie grow up. 

“Let’s go, Hangman.” Coyote’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he finally manages to get into his work mindset. He can’t afford to be distracted at work.   

✩̿✪̿✩̿

When Jake checks his phone after a day of training the most difficult maneuver he’s ever had to do, he’s got about thirty missed calls from you. His heart drops. Something must’ve happened. You rarely call him. Let alone thirty times. 

He calls you back immediately but he only reaches your voice mail. He tries again and again and again. 

Nothing.

He’s beyond worried, his thoughts are filled with worst case scenarios as he messily grabs his stuff, doesn’t even change into his regular clothes and bolts out the door. The rest of his squad are eyeing him with confused expressions but he doesn’t even notice them. All he can think about is that he needs to get to you. 

Since you’re still not picking up your phone he decides his best bet is driving to your house. See if you’re home. 

You’re not. 

Your car isn’t in the drive way and when he rings the doorbell no-one opens. All the lights are off and his only option is to wait. He keeps calling but you don’t pick up. He doesn’t know if you’re missing his calls because you don’t notice him calling or if you’re purposely not picking up the phone. 

He’s a mess. 

It’s almost two hours later when your car finally pulls into your driveway.

✩̿✪̿✩̿

Turns out that Josie broke her arm when she fell from the monkey bars. She doesn’t have to get surgery but they put a cast on her arm that needs to stay on for six weeks. Luckily, Josie is at that age where having a cast is cool and she wants all her friends to sign it. The whole thing might’ve been more traumatising for you than for her. Especially because of your anger towards Jake. He’s tried calling, but you were too stubborn to pick up. You wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, show him what it’s like. Is it the most healthy thing to do? Definitely not. But you were a mess.

When you turn onto your street you can see Jake sitting on your porch steps. He’s still in his flight suit and his hair looks like he’s run his hand through it at least a million times. He must’ve sat there for a while. It makes you feel bad for a second but then you remember what you’ve gone through the past couple hours and you’re angry again. 

“I called you about a hundred times!” Jake says as you step out of the car. He’s walking towards you now, his eyes scanning over your body as if he’s looking for injuries.

“Well, so did I.” You open Josie’s door and help her out of the car. When she sees Jake her eyes light up.

“Daddy, look! I’ve got a cast! They made it my favourite colour!” She shows off the green cast that’s covering her forearm. “Will you sign it?”

“Of course, I’ll sign it.” He forces a smile. “What happened?” 

“I fell from the monkey bars on the playground. It hurt a lot but it’s all better now!”

“C’mon, honey let’s go inside.” You gently push against her back. Jake follows you but halts his steps before walking through the door. He looks uncertain.

“Will you stand out there all evening?” Your voice sounds irritated even to your own ears. And you are. There’s so much you wanna say to him right now but you can’t while Josie is around. Jake finally enters your house and closes the front door. 

You spend so much time at the hospital that it’s already past Josie’s bedtime, so that’s what you focus on first. You go through the motions, aware that Jake is always close by, watching as you help Josie brush her teeth and read her a bedtime story.

“Now it’s time for you to sleep, honey.” You put the book on her nightstand and watch as her eyelids get heavier by the second. Seems like the adrenaline is finally wearing off.

“Will you sign my cast now, daddy?” She yawns and even though you’re not looking at him you know there’s a small smile on his face.

“Of course.” Then you hear Jake moving through the room to get a pen from her desk. Josie reaches out her arm and when Jake crouches down next to you. He’s entirely too close, so you get up and take three steps back. 

Once he’s done he caps the pen, gives Josie a kiss on the forehead and tells her good night one more time. Then the two of you leave the room.

You can feel the tension rising as you make your way to the living room. You’re too wired up to sit down so you just stand there in the middle of the room, looking at him.

“I was worried sick!” Jake presses out. “You call me thirty times and then don’t pick up? Are you serious?”

“Well, you weren’t picking up your phone either.” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I was at work and I didn’t have my phone with me.” 

You shrug your shoulders. For some reason you wanna be mad at him. You want to channel all your frustrations and nerves and let it out on him. Maybe because you’re mad at yourself for wishing he’d been there with you. Or maybe because he’s the only person here right now. You’re full of emotions that you don’t know how to deal with. 

“And I was at the hospital with your daughter while she was in pain!” You feel tears brimming your eyes. “And you weren’t there! You weren’t there and I wanted you there and I hate it! I hate it, Jake! You came waltzing into our lives out of nowhere and now I need you to be there? It’s unfair! We were fine before you came along.” 

You can see the hurt in his eyes and it makes you want to shove the words back into your mouth. But that’s not how it works.

“You don’t need me, sweetheart. I know that. You’re the strongest person I know. Raising our girl on your own … And as much as I wanna be there for you every second of every day, I can’t.”

He’s speaking with so much honesty, it makes you deflate. He cares so much about Josie, he didn’t answer his phone because he couldn’t not because he didn’t want to. 

“You should’ve heard her scream, Jake. It was horrible.” The tears you’ve been holding in finally roll down your cheeks and within seconds Jake is there, wrapping his arms around you, soothingly rubbing your back. 

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you I know you didn’t have a choice. But I was just—“

“It’s okay. C’mere.” He holds you closer and you let yourself relax against his strong body. It’s been so long since you just let go. So that’s what you do, not caring what he thinks while you’re sobbing, no doubt leaving wet stains on his flight suit.  

“Why can’t you have a regular office job?” You murmur against his chest and Jake chuckles softly.

“But then we would’ve never met.” 

“True.” You let out a sigh. “Still sucks though.” 

It’s quiet for a couple moments while Jake softly sways you from side to side. You’ve never felt so safe. Then he clears his throat.

“I’m leaving for the mission soon.” That makes you look at him. “I can’t tell you anything about it, but … it’s dangerous.” 

You stiffen, “How dangerous?” 

Jake presses his lips together, looking at the ceiling before his eyes find yours again. “The most dangerous I’ve ever been a part of.”

“Jake …” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You know I’m the best.” The shakiness in his voice betrays his words but you choose to ignore it. 

“How much longer until you leave?”

“I can’t really say. But I’ll come over to say goodbye before I leave… I wouldn’t leave without seeing you guys one more time.” There was so much meaning in him saying one more time, but you choose to ignore that as well. “And then when I’m back … I applied for an instructor position at Top Gun. It’s not an office job but I won’t be deployed as much and I’d be close to you guys.”

“What?” This is the first time you’re hearing about him even thinking about choosing a different career path.

“If everything goes to plan I’ll be moving to San Diego soon.” The corners of his mouth tick up.

“But… but you love flying.”

“I love Josie more. And I’ll still be flying, just not for the same reasons. And I’m not going to lie and tell you this is a completely safe position. It’s still dangerous and things happen. But I don’t wanna miss any more than I’ve already missed when it comes to Josie’s life. I wanna be there for all the important milestones.” 

Now you’re crying again but for a whole different reason.

“Jake.” 

“When you told me about her my priorities just shifted. For a really long time flying was the only thing I had. The only thing that gave me purpose. But now that I know about Josie … she’s biggest and most important purpose of all.” 

You really don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything and just hold him closer and rest your head against his shoulder.

___

only a few parts left!!

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#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman series #hangman x reader #hangman fic #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fic

[jesterwriting]

Hello!! So excited to be mutuals!! I’m ngl I’m about to blog crawl your posts so if you see me in your fics 🌝 hehe no you don’t!!

I was hoping maybe you’d be interested in writing some Sanji comforting his partner after they’ve had a really bad day? 🥹💕 thank you so much for considering and I hope you have a lovely day!!

pairing: sanji x reader

contents: fluff, comfort, slight sensory distress, sanji gets flustered easily

word count: 1.1k words

note: HI OMG! so excited to be mutuals too <33 and to celebrate i hope you enjoy this little sanji morsel :3

playlist: sweet chamomile - ruth b

You’ve had bad days before, but this one took the cake.

First, you woke up late and your breakfast was cold. Not bad, could be worse, you could handle cold breakfast. Sure, your boyfriend would happily heat it up for you, but you didn’t want to bother him over something so trivial. You were an adult, you could handle a bit of congealed egg.

Then, you got rained on after you went into town to explore. It was sunny when you left, not a cloud in the sky, how were you supposed to know to bring an umbrella? In your hurry to get back to the ship, you tripped and fell right into a mud puddle, completely ruining your favorite outfit. All at once, everything was getting to be too much. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to go right. It was days like this that left you exhausted and crying into your pillow, desperate for some way to unleash the emotional maelstrom that had made its home inside of you.

Your mud encrusted shirt felt sticky against your skin and you fought the urge to shake. From rage or disgust, you weren’t sure, all you knew is you wanted to be clean. You hated the way the clumps of dirt weighed down your shirt against your shoulders, or the way the fabric clung to you uncomfortably. You loved this shirt, and now it was ruined. It would be hard to find a similar replacement, though you could always try to hand wash it yourself.

Yes. Right. You could always wash it. This wasn’t the end of the world. With a deep breath, you clenched your fists to ground yourself, and marched into your room to get a change of clothes. Once you were finally clean again, you hauled your dirty clothes into the laundry room. With a brush in one hand, your shirt in the other, you unleashed all of your rage at how the day had gone onto whatever flecks of dirt you could get your hands on.

“Take that!” You cackled, watching the soapy water turn brown. “Die by my hand you wretched stain.”

Too focused on your one-man war, you didn’t realize how much force you were putting into your motions until a loud ripping sound filled the small room, and you were left staring dumbly at what was now half of your shirt. Your favorite shirt. The one you’d had for years. Nothing in your wardrobe was both as comfy or as warm, and now, it was ruined. Forever.

You couldn’t help it. Fat tears plopped into the basin as your breathing hitched. You felt ridiculous crying over an article of clothing, but now that the waterworks began, you couldn’t stop them. Weeping, you threw the torn fabric into the basin and tried not to focus on how the water splashed onto your front, soaking yet another outfit. With your hands over your face, and your clothes stuck to your skin, you muffled your cries into your palms.

Hopefully no one would walk in on your little temper tantrum. That would make a horrible day only that much worse.

As if on cue, the door squeaked open and you were left frantically trying to wipe your cheeks dry. Before you could blink, Sanji was within your field of vision, concern drawing his curly eyebrows together. With your cheek cupped in his hand, his thumb drew gentle circles into your skin. The gesture was so comforting, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Sweetheart, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Remembering what you’d been upset about, you gave an embarrassed jerk and tried to rub the redness from your eyes. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing.” When Sanji didn’t seem convinced, you gave him a watery smile. “Really, don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I’ll always worry when it comes to you, my love.” Instead of helping you to your feet, he sat down next to you, one leg outstretched, the other drawn up so he could rest his elbow on his knee. With his free arm, Sanji wrapped you into a side hug, tugging you closer to him until your head rested on his shoulder. You hummed and stared at his blush. Even the smallest acts of affection could make your boyfriend flush bright red. It was cute. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“It’s stupid,” You muttered.

“It obviously isn’t if you’re this upset,” Sanji countered, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve. You could tell he wanted a cigarette but would rather not smoke with you in such a small space. The second hand smoke would fill the room in seconds.

With a sigh, you gestured to the muddy basin, the remnants of your shirt sunk to the bottom. “Today has sucked.” Sanji hummed and nodded. You took that as your cue to continue, “I got rained on, fell in the mud, ripped my favorite shirt, and my breakfast was cold because I got up so late.”

“Why didn’t you come find me? I would have reheated your breakfast for you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going to go bother you over something so trivial. I’m an adult, I can eat my cold food. It was just that… coupled with everything else.”

“Come here.” Without another word, Sanji wrapped you in a warm embrace, his chin settled on the top of your head. You buried your face into his shirt and inhaled his scent: cigarettes and spices. Gently, Sanji began running his hands through your hair, playing with a loose strand every so often. In his arms, it felt like every weight that made its home on your shoulders disappeared. You slumped into him, your own hands home between Sanji’s shoulder blades.

“I feel better, thank you.”

“I knew a hug would help you, my love.” Even with his voice rumbling against your ear, he sounded smug. You glanced up, noticing that he was blushing so deep, the redness disappeared underneath the collar of his dress shirt. When you snuggled into him, his flush only got darker. Smug indeed. You smirked to yourself, the heaviness in your heart replaced with a light, fluttery feeling.

“Can we stay like this for a little while longer,” You asked

“As long as you need,” Sanji replied.

The two of you remained, tied tightly together on the wet floor of the laundry room, for hours. It wasn’t until Luffy found the two of you, wondering when dinner was going to be ready, did Sanji untangle himself from you.

By then, you felt like the day wasn’t as bad as you thought.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x yn #one piece imagines #one piece scenarios #.jesterwrites #I HOPE YOU ENJOYED WHAT YOU READ WHEN U CRAWLED THRU MY BLOG :3

[gingiesworld]

Family Is Forever

Chapter Three

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst.

Taglist: @fxckmiup @ginnsbaker @gb12d @casquinhaa @angrywhisperslove @louxbloom @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin

18+ MINORS DNI

The next day came around pretty fast, Y/N had already had the lawyers draw up the papers, not wanting to draw the divorce out any longer than it needed to.

"So, we're doing it here?" Wanda questioned as she sat on the sofa as Y/N stood before the mantel, looking over the pictures of the four of them.

"Yeah, I figured it won't be long." They told her honestly, picking up the picture of the two of them stood outside of Tony's cabin. "I love this photo, I always thought you were stunning even of you hated the wind in your hair."

"What are you doing?" Wanda snapped as Y/N put the picture back in it's place.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention." They told her just as the doorbell rang, Wanda just huffed as she got up to answer it. Allowing the divorce lawyer inside as the three soon moved to the dining table. Both Wanda and Y/N sat opposite each other.

"So, what is the reason for this divorce, is it infidelity?" The lawyer questioned as the two shook their heads no.

"I guess we just drifted apart." Y/N told them as they looked away from Wanda. Wanda hummed in agreement as the lawyer sighed.

"We won't be able to get this divorce finalised as fast as you both would like." He told the two as he placed his pen down. "You will need to be separated for at least 6 months before a divorce can be filed. Even then it's a trial separation and marriage counselling is advised."

Both Y/N and Wanda shared a look before Wanda looked away, leaving Y/N with the talking.

"I don't think that counselling is an option." Y/N told him. "This decision by the two of us is set in stone."

"So it will be a trial separation, then in 6 months we can revisit the divorce. If that is what you both really want." He said as the two nodded. "I understand you both have a prenup and you have children, yes?"

"Yes." Wanda answered. "We are going to split the custody."

"And I am moving out so Wanda and the boys have the house." They spoke up. "Also I am still going to be paying for the boys, providing for them. Whatever they need."

"I do suggest going through the court for the child support, just incase of unforseen circumstances." He told the two.

"You mean like if I don't pay it one month?" Y/N questioned, Wanda could see that they were getting irritated by the insinuation.

"Y/N isn't like that, they never ever let the boys down." Wanda defended them. "This marriage is ending, not because we don't love each other."

"But because I haven't really had the time to split between work, Wanda and the boys." Y/N admitted as they looked at Wanda. "And I can't make a promise of something that isn't really in my control as I do travel for work sometimes, and Wanda deserves more than what I can give her." Y/N looked at the lawyer as Wanda's gaze remained on her soon to be ex. "We're going to co-parent the boys and Wanda has my schedule and she will get any changes made to it too." Y/N informed them both. "I have also just made appointment to sign a lease at an apartment nearby."

"What about belongings?" He questioned as Y/N sat up straight.

"I already took everything of my own." They told him.

"You only took your clothes." Wanda told them as Y/N nodded.

"I did take everything of my own." They repeated. "All of the furniture and electrical gadgets are all yours and the twins, I won't take anything more than what I already have."

"Ok." The lawyer hummed. "It seems you have everything under control with this separation." He packed away his papers before bidding the two good luck.

"So." Wanda started as Y/N stood up, pushing their chair back in it's place.

"I best be off." They told her. "I've got these reports from last week that areway behind."

"Ok." Wanda whispered. "Do you maybe want to have dinner tonight? I'm sure the twins would love to see you." Y/N inhaled shakily as they looked at the woman who will always have their heart.

"Yeah." They nodded. "I'll be here at the usual time."

"Thank you." Wanda told them as she walked them to the door.

"Why don't you open a book shop." Y/N suggested as Wanda looked taken aback. "It was always a dream you had and you have more than enough money in your account to do it."

"I don't know the first thing about running a business." Wanda admitted as Y/N gave her a tender smile.

"The community college has a business course that you could do." They told her. "You could learn everything you need to."

"But I have the twins." Wanda told them.

"I can always have them on the nights you have classes." They told her honestly. "I know you can do this Wanda so please just, make your dream come true. Do it for yourself."

"You really think I can do it?" She whispered as Y/N just nodded.

"I know you can." With that, they left her as she watched them drive away from the house. She started to wonder amidst all of the separation, she forgot about the dream she had before the twins were even a thought. Maybe because when she had that dream, Y/N would be by her side as she opened.

Once Y/N had finally made into the office, Tony greeted them as he dragged them into his own office. Gesturing for them to take a seat as he closed the door.

"I hear that you are having some trouble at home." He stated as Y/N sighed.

"Wanda and I are going through a separation." They stated calmly.

"So that's the reason for the recent splurge in absences." He stated as Y/N nodded.

"I've had to move out and well, I have an appointment for an apartment near the house so I am still there for the twins." They rambled as Tony held his hand up for them to stop.

"I understand Y/N but we can't be behind on weekly reports. It's not a good sight, especially on me." Tony told them. "Maybe you should step down from your senior position."

"No. I don't need to." Y/N told him. "I only have one appointment left and then the rest I am going to be doing in my own time. It's just this is hard right now and well."

"Maybe you should take a sebatical?" He suggested as Y/N shook their head no.

"That isn't an option." They stated. "I can assure you that this will not happen again Mr Stark. I just have a small appointment this week which I can take out of my lunch break. It's just signing a lease and picking up the keys for my new place."

"I am trusting your word Y/N." He told them sternly as Y/N thanked him before heading back to their own office to get to work. Time passed fairly quickly as they sent the late reports of and started on the new. They had also completely lost track of time, so they soon raced to the house just in time for dinner to be served.

"O'PA!!!" The twins yelled once they entered the house.

"Hey boys." They beamed as they hugged the twins, kissing the top of their heads before seeing Wanda stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're here, that's all that matters." Wanda stated indifferently. Although the sight of the three of them made her heart swell, she still felt the heartbreak that this is only brief.

The two listened as Tommy was telling them about an upcoming game he has this weekend to which both Y/N and Wanda stated they wouldn't miss it. That was something that Wanda could trust with Y/N, they never missed a chance to cheer on the boys.

"When's the decathlon meet?" Y/N asked Billy who smiled shyly, something he gets from his mom.

"In 4 months." He told them. "We're just studying for the possible subjects and questions we could be asked."

"That's awesome Billy." Wanda beamed at him.

"Be sure to save me a ticket for it." Y/N told him as he just nodded. Once dinner was over, the boys had disappeared to do their homework as Y/N helped Wanda clean.

"You don't have to do this." Wanda told them.

"I know." They said as they put the dishes away. "I guess I, never mind." Wanda turned to face them, seeing them troubled was something she never liked to see.

"Are you ok?" She asked them as they gave her a tight lipped smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." They told her, although she didn't buy it. "I guess I am going to go."

"Yeah." Wanda nodded as she watched Y/N disappear to say goodbye to the twins before Wanda met them at the door. "Be careful." She told them as they nodded, already making their way back to the office to get up to date on the work that has been piling up on their desk. Their head in their hands as they let the tears slip through, wiping them away faster than they would fall.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you

[helion-ism]

so, after two years I have finally written something again. it's actually one of my new year's resolutions to start writing again, just a little at least, to get into it again. I will probably also edit some of the things I wrote in the past and re-post them again because I had a phase where I deleted almost all of them (just girly things 🤪)

anyways, this is what I came up with. hope you enjoy!

thanks, @lucienarcheron for reading and offering advice 🫶

rating: mature

word count: 3,207

or: read it on ao3

archer and prey

She could feel his wicked grin on her skin as she whimpered in response, leaning back against his hard body, leaning back against his hard body, his kisses lazy – without haste. Her head fell on his shoulder as his clever hands moved to her waist. He held her firmly and with care. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

All she felt and needed to feel was this pure heat he was offering her, this fire he was responsible for that was burning low in her body and threatening to consume her. And Elain could not stop herself from shivering, repeating with a hushed voice, “Please, please.” He chuckled at her impatience.

But he rewarded her the next moment when his tongue was on her neck, drawing circles. And his lips – his perfect lips – moved against her sensitive skin, though never increasing the pace. She liked this torture more than she would ever admit. Liked how he seemed to relish in taking his time with her, too. 

His hands were on her thighs, his fingers burrowed in her skirts, hoisting them up little by little. He wasn’t close enough to where she wanted him, and Elain propped herself against him with a force that surprised and delighted him. He laughed and her stomach clenched at the sound. 

More, more, more. 

She might have said the words aloud. 

Lucien’s hand moved to her neck. It might be his favourite part of hers, she thought, with the way he always kept returning to it. He caressed her collarbone, lay his fingers around her neck, and squeezed lightly. Elain gasped as she felt his hard length at her back, his fingertips gently turning her head to face him. She looked at him and the rugged scar that graced his face. 

Wicked, wanton, wild. 

“Please,” she whispered again and lifted her head to meet his lips. She wanted to make him lose his composure, make him forget his purpose for a second. She kissed him like she had never kissed him before, pressing against him, her hands up in his long hair, tugging and pulling. He groaned and Elain felt the sound in her core – but it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him everywhere forever. 

Lucien’s hand went to the back of her head, tilting it to have better access to her, his tongue now occupied with her own. He was in charge and taking over, deliberately slowing his movements yet again. She snarled, and he laughed again, this time louder. Her head was spinning. 

Lucien’s other hand moved to her hips, turning and hoisting her up onto him. Elain’s head fell back at the pressure of him against her core and started to move slowly, leisurely against him. She felt so good, breathing his name in painful need. He was wearing too many clothes – she needed them off. 

“You’re mine,” he purred, his lips on her collarbone, sucking until she felt a pain so good, so sharp –

Elain gasped as she bolted up from her bed. Breathing hard and fast, she placed a hand on her chest, willing herself to calm down. She let it happen again. This dream, this fantasy she could never shake off, no matter how much she told herself she hated him in the daylight. It was only in dreams she said his name these days, allowing it to roll off her tongue only then when no one else could hear. 

She felt like a traitor. To Feyre, to Nesta, to herself. 

To him. 

She tried so hard to not think of him, even when he was in town. Even more so when he was out somewhere on the Continent with that human queen. Did not allow her thoughts to ever wander and wonder. Yet, at night, when the stars sparkled in the sky and the winds moved the sheer fabric of her curtains into her bedroom, her traitorous thoughts returned to him. 

She knew it wasn’t fair to anyone. Not to either of them but especially herself. She had promised herself a thousand times to not let it bother her, this feeling that seemed to grow day by day. She thought perhaps that was why this body, this altered mind, now urged her to go to him, to touch him, even if only in her dreams. But she understood that loneliness was a burden she could not get rid of at night even if she could pretend it disappeared under the bright sun of Velaris. She blamed him for it.

Elain shivered as she pushed aside the covers of her bed and walked to the open window. Her feet were cold on the wooden floor, but she didn’t mind. It cleared her head. Velaris looked beautiful at night and she wished it could give her the strength Feyre drew from it. She wished it could be enough that she wanted to fit in. Wished she could feel like Nesta did after suffering for so long. But wishes were not enough and with each day passing, the feeling of isolation and desperation grew inside her and made her restless. Made her feel more alone. 

Elain sighed and leaned her head against the opened window frame. She closed her eyes. 

It could be so quiet here, at night. And only because the city was asleep and she couldn't be caught did Elain let herself think about her dream once more. She had stopped counting how often she awoke in the darkness, wishing to be close to him. Most of the time, the dreams were like this: slow and passionate, feeling too real. Like he was right here, behind her, worshipping her. She could almost smell him, taste him on her lips. She opened her eyes to stop the pain threatening to squeeze her heart until only tears could help her get rid of it. 

Sometimes Elain woke because he touched her pointed ears and that was not something she could even accustom herself to in her dreams. Sometimes it was because she peaked, twisting in her sheets and waking up satisfied and yet yearning for more. She wondered how that was possible when she could not remember how his touch felt on her skin. Other times, it did not get that far. It was words that drew her from her subconscious. 

Lucien wasn’t in Velaris. But she knew he was on his way back to the Night Court, to report on whatever it was exactly that he was doing out there for Feyre and Rhysand. She prohibited herself from caring every time someone uttered his name in her presence and hated her body for not complying. Elain wondered if on the mornings that followed nights like these, when she couldn’t go back to sleep and waited for the sunrise – she wondered if Feyre noticed. If that was why her sister studied Elain with a wariness that followed her through the rest of the day. But her sister never said a word.

Feyre likely suspected Elain would shut down the conversation, never admitting to anything. And how could her sister, with her perfect baby, and perfect mate, who she had accept with love in her heart, ever understand? How could anyone? Nesta once could, but Nesta loved Cassian. Nesta had friends and a purpose. She had a home. 

Elain had that once, too. With Graysen. She almost did, anyway. 

She sighed, sliding to the floor and letting her chin rest on her knees. It would be a long night as she longed for the day.

---------------------------------------------------------

He was here, she realized. 

In the townhouse.

It was barely dawn. 

His heart beat loudly in his chest and his scent – like a summer morning brightening the day – filled up the air. Elain couldn’t breathe as all of her senses focused on him – an instinct she wasn’t sure how to work against. She hadn’t actively decided to leave her room, yet here she was. He noticed her a few seconds later, looking up the staircase with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. 

He was so beautiful, she thought. It was unfair. 

“My lady,” he said. 

Those were his first words after months of utter silence. She wondered if his being here meant he had freed the firebird and was back in Prythian for good. “I didn’t realize you were here.” 

Elain furrowed her brow. “I live here now,” she replied and hated how quiet and unsure she sounded.

“I assumed you would be with Feyre and Rhys –”

“I thought it would be best to give them privacy. As a young family.” 

Her heartbeat matched his. Could he still not hear it? 

He was silent. She thought it was the most they had spoken in ages. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom as she gripped the ornate railing. As she squeezed it like she might bend it underneath her frail hands. 

“You look well,” he said then, a hint of a polite smile on his lips. She swallowed and Elain did not think it could be more awkward. “I’m sorry for disturbing you in your home. I figured I would recommend the townhouse to meet with Feyre not to … barge in on you, and she didn’t mention anything about you being here. I am here for business.”

“Business,” she said slowly, frowning. Of course, Feyre hadn’t said anything to him.

But before she could say anything else, the door opened and Feyre rushed in. Elain stiffened while Lucien seemed to relax. 

She suspected he hated being here. She didn’t let herself think of what else he might have hated.

Feyre lit up as she hugged him. “Lucien, I didn’t realize you were here this early!” She glanced up at Elain and cringed slightly. Elain said nothing. Feyre likely had planned on warning her. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied softly.

And Elain didn’t hear what Feyre said next as everything grew louder in her head. Like water rushing right above her and into those sensitive ears. The duo moved to the parlour and Elain found herself following them slowly. 

The door wasn’t closed, so she supposed she was welcome, especially when Lucien didn’t tear his eyes away from her as she entered the room and found herself by the window. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds. 

The weather seemed to match the mood of her mate. 

He seemed to have anticipated the arrival of Rhys and his brother and still, his mood worsened. He may have moved slightly closer to her. 

“Am I interrupting?” Eris said, grinning widely at Elain, who, in turn, frowned at him. She didn’t know what to think of the redhead. Something about him unsettled her. He looked so different from Lucien. His nose was sharper, his skin paler, and his eyes seemed to take in everyone in the room at the same time – as if he was used to paying attention to every single person in his vicinity. Like he didn’t trust anyone here. Elain could hardly fault him for that. 

“Be quick about it, Eris,” Lucien hissed and Elain watched Rhys step behind Feyre, kissing her on her cheek. Her stomach tightened painfully. 

“Oh, brother, how have I missed you, too,” Eris snickered. He took a seat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. “Does your firebird miss you already?”

Elain froze at his question, well aware that everyone’s eyes were on her. The room was shrinking and every little noise, the fly on the windowsill, the birds chirping outside, Eris’s breathing, was getting louder and louder and louder. She wanted to cry and she didn’t know why. 

She still remembered how difficult moments like this had been in those first few months. After she had surfaced, scared and shaking, and Lucien had made his way to her. When she had arrived at the Night Court, Feyre gone, Nesta blazing, and everything had been too much, too loud, pungent. It had been Lucien, surprisingly, who understood and offered the advice she desperately needed. She had clung to the windows of the house, praying for peace and quiet, praying for her old life to come back to her. 

“Close your eyes when it gets too overwhelming in this new body,” he had said. She had blinked in response and looked at him. His brutally beautiful face had looked like he understood. She hadn’t seen how. “Make sure to breathe in deeply, and I mean, deeply. Down to your navel. Then hold it, and breathe out slowly. Close your eyes and block out the noise by focusing on one thing. Be it a bird chirping or footsteps outside.”

She hadn’t replied, and Lucien had stood, bowing, to leave again. This, Elain, had to admit, had helped more than the healer’s poking and touching. She didn’t have to tell him that it was the sound of his heartbeat, or the memory thereof, that she often used to calm herself down. Even now, with so much time having passed. She didn’t know why these Fae senses were taking so long for her to get used to. 

Now, her ears focused on the steady, yet agitated beat of his heart. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. 

The noises disappeared as she continued to breathe deeply. She looked at Eris, surprised to see his eyes observing her, not his brother.

“The firebird,” Lucien spat, “is still a firebird and unless you have helpful information for breaking her curse, I suggest you tell us what you came here for, brother.” 

Rhys chuckled and sat with Feyre on the couch, obviously trying to calm the flared tempers. He looked suspiciously at ease, but maybe that belonged to the artful skillset of a High Lord. 

Her sister rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to discuss Vassa, Eris.”

Lucien ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw and Elain couldn’t help but look back at Lucien, but he was staring at Eris.

“I am here to discuss my father’s death.” 

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Then – 

“You mean you are here to discuss treason,” Feyre said quietly as Lucien remained silent. 

But Elain could hear him clear and loud. He did not want to be in this room. She saw flashes of blood on a dark floor, she saw a red forest and a head on the ground. A thin, red-haired woman crying in a beautifully decorated parlor. 

“Treason,” Eris grunted. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“We told you, we cannot get involved,” Rhys said slowly. But he leaned forward like he had had the thought, too. Lucien noticed and clenched his fists. 

Elain’s heart ached, and she hated herself for following him into this room. Hated herself for getting herself into this mess and to witness him like this – agitated and internally pacing. Did he want to return to his home? Did he miss the sight of those colourful trees? 

“Mother would like to see you again,” Eris simply said. 

“He will kill me on sight,” Lucien’s voice was quiet and emotionless. Somehow Elain knew what her mate’s brother would say next. Feyre did, too, as she straightened her back and looked at Eris with narrow eyes. 

“Not if you bring your mate – both of you protected by the Night Court and her being Feyre Cursebreaker’s sister, he would not dare.” 

Silence.

“You have lost your mind,” Feyre said at the same time as Lucien snarled, “Over my dead body.” 

Eris wanted her to be a distraction. To be a piece in his chess game as he played his way to the position of a High Lord. Rhys was silent, but Elain’s irritation with Eris grew. He knew, she realized, when to press which buttons. Her brother-in-law understood too, what Elain had learned in this moment. 

Feyre was watching her with worried eyes and Elain felt a darkness brush against her mind, but she recoiled from it. She barely could form any coherent thought and did not want to have Feyre invade the chaos inside of her.

“Elain.” Lucien’s voice was gentle and she looked at him, his golden eye whirring frantically. He looked ill while Eris seemed to be enjoying his moment. Elain clenched her fist and faced Eris.

“You cannot decide to use me and expect me to oblige. You cannot drag Lucien into this simply because it is convenient for you. This is your mess.” She was oddly proud of herself for saying those words without shaking. The anger, a burning flame ignited in her heart, made sure of that. Rhys smiled. As did Eris.

“Maybe it is. But surely you and Lucien have a desire to see him gone. After all, you are a princess of the Autumn Court now.” 

Lucien’s eyes turned cold, perhaps for the first time in his life. “Elain is a free female. The Autumn Court is nothing to her. As it is to me. We are not going to help you commit treason. I will not risk her life like that.” His words were clipped. Elain didn’t understand why Rhys and Feyre stayed silent. 

“What of mother?”

Lucien narrowed his eyes. “What of mother?”

“You know I will do it either way. With or without the Night Court’s help. I understand their … reluctance to assist me. Despite my continued assistance over these last months.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Eris continued, “I will do it and should I fail, what do you think becomes of our mother?” He looked at Lucien and Elain swore she saw a flicker of vulnerability show on his face. Perhaps another form of manipulation. Her heart ached nonetheless.

“He will punish her,” Eris added and looked at Elain. “If they won’t help me save my mother, you certainly could, Elain. I will forever be in your debt.” 

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Lucien turned livid and tried very hard to restrain himself and not tackle Eris off the armchair. His brother was holding on to the armrest as if he was aware of that. Elain didn’t hear what Feyre and Rhys were saying, but their anger was palpable. 

Elain knew, she knew, that Eris was a mastermind, but she believed him. She believed that he wanted nothing more than to see his mother in safety. Elain didn’t know their father, but given Lucien’s hatred for the Autumn Court, she could only guess what evil he was responsible for. She again saw puddles of blood on the floor. Did blood stain marble? 

It irritated her that Eris used her to force Lucien to play by his rules. He clearly did not want to step a foot inside his home again, but everyone in this townhouse knew that if Elain went, Lucien would follow. Perhaps that was why she said, faintly but clearly enough for everyone to hear, “Fine.” 

“I will go but not for you,” she said looking at Eris with a frown, then back at Lucien. His face had paled. Elain didn’t really know where it came from, she had certainly not expected the day to go like this. Seeing Lucien, seeing his brother, and saying things she never would have expected herself to even think. “I will go for your mother. No one should be left at risk.” 

#elucien #elucien fic #maria writes

[ax-cx]

INTOXICATING

Luke Castellan x Fem!OC

slight Pervy!Luke and Toxic!Luke

Warnings: swearing, heavy make out, mentions of slight stalking, super obsessed Luke, mention of drugs, flirting

Just pure fluffy love really

“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and ask why you’re still in hell.”

Intoxicating

adjective

- (of alcoholic drink or a drug) liable to cause someone to lose control of their faculties or behaviour.

- exhilarating or exciting.

- "an intoxicating sense of freedom"

Laila was intoxicating. Just looking at her made my mind run miles. Her beautiful brown hair, falling down over her shoulders. Her beautiful green eyes, glinting when she looks up at me. Her beautiful smile, contagious and bubbly.

Fuck man, I’m so done for. The way she says my name, gods help me.

“Luke.” soft, sweet and silky. Just imagine how it’d sound beneath- no shut up Luke. She’s perfect. Don’t ruin her.

“Yes sweetheart?” oh gods, stop looking at me like that dollface. Can’t you see me melting here?

“I need your help.” her cheeks reddened. Like strawberries and summer sun.

I can’t be this crazy for a girl, right? I’m just Luke. I’m the best swordsman at camp, son of Hermes, and a silly little Demeter girl can’t make me feel this way. Even though she picks flowers everywhere she goes, and the roses greet her like an old friend; even though the shrubs and plants seem to bloom brighter when she walks past, nature pouring from every pore of her pure soul.

“Of course Laila, what do you need?” my voice was shaky, of course it was. She was so fucking stunning my heart hurt. She gave me a headache and a high I couldn’t chase anywhere else. So I was her little servant instead.

She wanted help? Always. Can’t choose an outfit? Sweetheart you look perfect in blue. Someone giving her a hard time? I’ll fucking kill them. She wants food? I’ll get her anything. That bracelet’s cute? Bought it already.

I followed her like a wolf trailing behind a little lamb. All I wanted was her aura, her devilishly inducing soul. I’d do anything she asked. I’d burn the goddamn world to the ground. Just to make her happy. Anything to see her smile.

Chris told me I was obsessed. Maybe I am. Just a little. Just a lot. She takes up my every waking thought, tying up my mind in flowers and thorns, sweet smiles and sugary sounds. The way she walked. The way she talked.

I found myself hidden outside her window, looking in on her dressing once. Like a child outside a candy shop, my face was pressed to glass so hard I nearly fell through. The curves of her body, the scars on her knees, the freckles across her shoulders and clavicle. She rivalled Aphrodite, the fucking beauty she is.

“I need a new bikini and I don’t know which one to get.” fuck. How am I meant to hold myself back now? Surely she’s trying to kill me.

“Laila you look great in anything. But-“

“Blue’s your favourite colour, I know Luke, I know.” Laila I’m begging you, don’t put a blue bikini on, I might fuck up this perfect relationship. “So I picked out two blue ones but I don’t know which ones better.”

Oh god. I could feel my blood going south already. I watched as she slipped into the changing room, drawing the curtain, metal scraping metal. I listened as she shuffled, watched her clothes hit the floor and the shadows of her curves pulling the material on. I hated how long I waited, I was dying to see her.

I was dying to see my girl.

Metal scraping metal, and a soft whisper. “Luke?” my eyes met perfection.

Shamelessly letting my eyes wander, the blue fabric was tastefully perfect on her sun-bronzed skin. I’d forever be grateful for Apollo for how he made her shine. Her hips, her breasts, smattered with freckles and battle scars, marred in its most perfect form. Glowing and radiant. A princess in its finest definition. My beautiful drug. Little shells and gold trinkets were looped into the mesh, woven into the blue and trailing down her ribs and thighs.

Her hair was tucked behind her ears, her face on full display. Strawberries and summer sun dancing across her cheeks. Playful freckles smeared on her skin, full lips pulled into a meek grin. I stood up, and took her chin by the finger, lifting her embarrassed eyes to meet mine. I saw her curl in on herself.

“Laila you don’t need to be ashamed. You look great.” great. A disgusting understatement for how ethereal she looked. Aphrodite worked her magic and worked hard on her. The word felt filthy on my tongue. A princess like her needed to be praised and showered in the filthiest compliments, degraded by affection and ruined by attention. She glowed, and the world stopped.

I couldn’t hear a thing but my heartbeat. Racing, trying to tear from my chest and embrace hers. Her eyes gleamed, and I felt my resolve crumble. My confidence, my senses, my mind and soul falling to bare parts of who I am.

A man so effortlessly infatuated with a woman.

Losing all my thoughts, all my being, I melted into her. I gave up, finally leaning into my instincts and pressing my lips to hers.

They say your first kiss with a person you love is like fireworks. Your lips ignite and everything feels right.

It’s a lie. It’s like a fucking war. Winning and losing, fighting and failing. Kissing the girl I’m completely besotted with. Fuck. Her lips were heaven on earth, soft and plump, the perfect fit to mine. Gods this girl was meant for me. I truly must’ve been blessed, for finding a girl that just fits effortlessly, lips the missing piece to my fucked up puzzle, is a one in a billion girl.

I reluctantly pulled my lips from hers, immediately missing the warmth that bloomed in my chest, the warmth of her lips.

“Laila I’m so sorry.” she blinked, once, twice, still processing what is just done. I’d fucked it, I’d royally fucked it. “I couldn’t, I just couldn’t help my-“

My breath cut short, her fingers pulled on my belt loops, pulling me in, roping me further into her spell. She kissed me. Crashing our lips together, all teeth and tongue, all love and war. My perfect girl perfectly kissing me. My eyes were shut so tight, sight a pathetic sense when compared to her taste, her smell, her feel. Like the world was put right.

My hands swallowed her hips, kneading the supple bronze flesh. She was gold personified. Glowing, valuable and just stunning. Her skin was putty in my hands, the perfect golden feeling against my calloused hands. Soft and untouched. All mine to ruin.

I almost felt bad. Touching something so celestial, with my broken and damaged hands. With my plans and my anger. With my disgust and falsified details. With my wrath and rage. With my betrayal and my suffering. But I didn’t care. My care was out the window as soon as she kissed me. I finally got to be selfish for once. Thinking only of myself for once.

She was pure sugar. Addicting, intoxicating. Like my own personal cocaine.

Her hands were woven into my curls, like the soft curves of a tapestry twisting a timeless tale. This is a moment to remember for as long as I live, something I don’t ever want to forget.

She pulled her lips from mine, and my lips ached for the contact again. “So this one?” she grinned, her beautiful beautiful smile on her beautiful beautiful lips.

“I’ll get you both princess.”

My beautiful drug.

#fanfic #fanfiction #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #pjo #pjo fandom #toxic love #toxic relationship #obsessive love #actually obsessive #love #lovers

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a  regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"

#dyou guys think the song of healing would work on him #idk #especially since he cant use any instruments any more but like 🧍🏽 #his mask is actually the giant's mask and he only wears it because he's the size of a minish without it [/nsrs] #elvira's notebook #HAVENT USED THAT TAG IN A WHILE LMAO #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #ocarina of time x reader #majora's mask x reader #oot x reader #mm x reader #x reader #link x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe link x reader #lu link x reader #linked universe time x reader #lu time x reader #time x reader #legend of zelda time x reader #loz time x reader

[leviathanspain]

you’ll learn to hate me

aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader, aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

chapter four: bury me deep inside your heart

synopsis: aemond’s love confession comes at a wicked cost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the heavy doors heaved with the force of someone storming through. it was aemond, his wicked scar immediately drew your attention, especially when his lip curled at seeing you, hands struggling to untie your dress.

he walked over, and you sighed, embarrassed, “i’ve been waiting for a maid forever. help me, will you?” you turned your back to aemond, and he didn’t say anything. you only felt the cool fingertips brushing against your back as he undid the corset.

you shivered as he moved swiftly. “there.” aemond placed a hand on the fabric of the dress. his hand was holding it up, but you turned, and he let it fall straight down.

you were bare, the dress had been the only thing you had wore all day. now aemond was looking at your naked backside.

you didn’t say anything as you turned around. he was quiet, and was staring at you shamelessly. you moved in closer, but his hands were already on you. he kissed you roughly, drawing you in closer and closer until your breasts touched his clothed chest.

you pulled back, and swallowed the shock of what had just occurred. aemond turned away from you, his arms draped over the top of the fireplace as he looked into it

“aemond?” you looked at his figure before the fireplace. there was a second of silence until he spoke, “i am not my brother.” he responded, turning back to you, he smirked slightly, “i’m better.”

just as you moved towards him again, the heavy doors swung open, and aegon stalked in. his eyes were shielded until he moved to sit near the fireplace.

you stared at him, in shock until he looked up. he noticed the scene and laughed slightly, “clearly i’m interrupting something. shall i just-“ he cut himself off with laughter, and nearly tumbled out of his seat.

you blushed furiously, embarrassed at his taunts. you raised an eyebrow to aemond who merely shrugged.

“shouldn’t you be knee deep into some other woman, right now? or perhaps drunk in a random alley? gods know you would be if it wasn’t for-“ aemond rambled and aegon sized him up, and looked at his brother with narrowed eyes, “for what? spit it out aemond, gods know you aren’t exactly the best with your timing.”

the two brothers stared at each other in complete silence, as if they were competing in their minds.

you didn’t say anything as you moved to grab a robe off the bed. you shucked it on, and finally someone else spoke, “you should tell mother that you’ve fucked my wife. maybe then she’d take her off my hands.” aegon spat, and stared into the fireplace.

you sighed, “aemond..” you looked at him and nodded towards the door. aemond was angry to having been kicked out, evident by his slamming of the doors as he left.

you and aegon sat in the silence, “why are you here?” you asked, hand gripping the armrest of the chair. aegon shrugged, “i don’t know.”

aegon swirled whatever drink he had in his cup before turning back to you.

aegon’s true nature had revealed itself just a few days ago. the lousy drunk, the whore prince, aegon had barely batted an eye towards you since your arrival, and now, he seemed to turn his entire attention to you.

“choosing my younger brother over myself wouldn’t be the first time, y/n.” aegon murmured, “mother does it all the time. im surprised it’s taken you this long..”

you didn’t say anything for a moment, deciding how you’d play this out. “i needed help with my gown. aemond helped, but did nothing more than that.”

aegon waved a hand, “it doesn’t matter. i’ve seen the way he looks at you, he wants you. and when aemond wants something..” aegon looked at his cup, laughing before taking a sip, “well you’ve seen the lengths he’s gone to get what he wants.”

you stared into the fire, “who’s to say i’d let him? let anyone?” you crossed your arms defensively.

aegon shrugged, “it’s better not to fight. feels better, trust me.” he sipped his drink again and you closed your eyes in disgust.

“why are you like this, aegon?” you had pondered the question for days since you’ve been there, and now it seemed befitting to ask.

aegon shrugged, “the stress of being the firstborn. but,” he looked at you, standing up from his seat, “it seems to only affect the unfortunate ones.”

you twiddled your thumbs for a moment in this beat of silence before sighing, “aegon..you only make it as hard as you want it to be. im my mothers daughter, she is my blood, i am of her tissue, but rhaenyra and i are different. i would’ve never betrayed her, how she betrayed me.” you paused, sighing, “she sent me here for one thing, and it seems like i have no choice. neither of us do.”

aegon nodded, “yes.” he walked towards the door, “i suppose there is some truth to what you said.” he took one last sip of his cup before he set it down on the table near your door, “let’s marry soon, shall we?” he seemed pained to even say it.

reluctantly, you nodded.

rhaenyra hadn’t responded to any of your letters. not even the invitation for your wedding. it didn’t surprise you, but you were deeply wounded by her abandonment.

aegon had been a sweaty mess all day. the events had stressed him to the nines, and he was a pale sheet throughout the entire ceremony. even when you kissed him on his cracked, dry lips, he didn’t react.

his lips were different than his brothers, aemond was rough, yet suave, and was more for yourself than himself. aegon’s lips were like kissing a dead body. but you couldn’t blame him. this was easy for nobody.

aemond hadnt shown up at all. his absence hung over you like a dark cloud, and as much as you tried to enjoy yourself, with whatever little room you had to begin with, especially with aegon eyeing all of the female servants, you missed your childhood friend.

you left your own wedding early. it wasn’t as if anyone would notice you were gone, aegon wasn’t exactly paying attention to you, and you doubted he’d be sober enough to consummate your marriage anyway.

so you left, and left to the only place you knew the attention would be on you completely.

knocking, you hoped he was in his room. you were wearing your wedding regalia, a traditional targaryen dress with jewelry that could be heard halls away.

immediately, the door opened and aemond looked at you. his eye patch was off and his sapphire gleamed in the slight light from his room. a surprised smile on his face as he stepped back and welcomed you in.

you laughed slightly, “i shouldn’t be here..” you whispered, and watched as aemond walked towards you, “we’ve all done things we shouldn’t have done.”

you gulped and for the first time all day, a genuine smile played on your face as aemond held you by your waist.

“he’s drunk. won’t even be sober enough to get it up.” you told aemond and aemond nodded, “i thought so.”

you looked at aemond and he could see it in your eyes, the vulnerability, the want for something more.

“aemond..” you leaned into him and aemond kept your words as he kissed you, you moaning as he gripped your hips now, tightly.

the jewelry jingled slightly and you pulled back, “get this off of me.” you begged and aemond began to tear the dress off of you, bit by bit, your bare skin underneath set him off, and aemond was pushing you up against the door.

you felt him lift you off your toes, settling your legs on top of his thighs as he moved his hand towards your cunt.

you hissed see he finally set his fingers on you, and aemond was watching your face as he toyed with you.

moments passed by, moans had filled the room, along with the thudding of your body against the door as aemond took you, took you in the dead of night as the celebrations raged on.

you could see aemond as he fucked you, your hand falling on his cheek, looking at his sapphire, you realized your confession of love had come in another form, years and years ago.

only his, his had been his claiming of vhagar.

he had never told you that he wanted a dragon so he could take you on rides.

now, it seemed like you were enjoying the ride of another dragon.

you clawed at his back as aemond drove you to your orgasm, his face was smug, pleasure at the edges as he groaned lowly.

your hands pulled at his long, silvery hair, and aemond hissed, holding your hips as he tossed you onto the bed.

“i love you.” aemond whispered, and as he began to fuck into you once more, the same words escaped your mouth.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: how do we feel?! aemond girlies rise up- also sorry this took forever i had the worst writers block 😒

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