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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ We Made It, Huh?

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: fluffy af with minor mentions of nightmares, cuteness overload, painfully non-canon but also like i make canon myself yall stfu author's note: okay okay im a sucker for a soft family. could be seen as a part ii to coloring pages and baby fever and that's how im gonna put it on the masterlist, but honestly could be read as a stand alone. also, i need to know if you guys like the name i picked for sweet babygirl and if you don't do NOT say anything i will cry okay gg bye bye

many years later, after prophecies were fulfilled and many quests were completed, a pile of camp half-blood shirts lay dormant in the back of a closet, only to be brought out every now and then to reminisce but nothing more. y/n would have fulfilled her duty of the great prophecy on her twentieth birthday. two years later, she became an editor for a surfing magazine. leo would lay his life down to complete the prophecy of seven, though he came back a few months later to y/n a complete mess, which he made sure to fix. four years after that, he got a masters degree in engineering and opened his own firm. in the midst of those years, leo would propose and y/n would obviously say ‘yes.’ they would move out of camp half-blood into a house of their own - y/n shared a soul-crushing goodbye with chiron, someone she’s known and been raised by since she was seven. and, they’d have a little girl, amara esperanza valdez. which is why leo was currently standing outside a ballet studio, twisting and contorting a piece of metal into a little flower without even looking. the doors swung open and leo brought his attention to it, a smile settling over his lips at the little girl that ran towards him. he kneeled down, holding his arms open before scooping her up into them, her giggles contagious.

“daddy!” the girl giggled into his shoulder, clinging onto him. leo held onto her tightly, pulling back to fully take her in. she was still in her little tutu and leotard, her wild curls that she got from him slicked back into a bun that y/n had done earlier in the day.

“hey, princesa,” leo mused back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before blowing a raspberry against her cheek. the girl squealed, trying to get out of his grasp.

“ah! daddy!” she screamed, wiggling in his arms. leo stopped, partially because he was concerned she was gonna fall and also because they had to start heading home.

“okay, okay. come on, girly, we gotta get home to mama,” he cut in, carefully opening the back doors to the truck and beginning to strap her into her car seat, amara all but a passive character in all of this. she was practically buzzing in her seat, something leo and y/n both worried were early signs of adhd. some nights, y/n would be unable to stop crying at the thought of their daughter going through what they did, her chest heaving with sobs. leo always tried his best to comfort her through these episodes, but he’d be lying if he said that the thought didn’t cause his blood to freeze up.

“how was ballet, amara?” asked leo once they were on the road, glancing in the rear view mirror at her before swiftly returning his eyes to the road, his fingers rapping against the wheel like always.

“good. we learned about pointe shoes today. and- and ms. hart brought in her own tutu from when she was a ballerina! it was sooo pink!” the girl squealed excitedly in the backseat, searching for her dad’s eyes in the mirror.

“really, amorito? super cool,” he replied, nodding his head enthusiastically. they were only a few lights away from home now and leo could feel the stress of work and life ease away from his bones at the thought of seeing y/n, like it always did.

“amanda tried to do an advanced move that ms. hart explained and her mommy thinks she sprained her ankle,” amara added, her eyes going to the views out the window, trying to wiggle in her seat to see better. leo frowned slightly at this news and what she was doing.

“amara,” he warned, lightly, as he flicked his directionals on. the girl stopped her movements and slumped into her seat before realizing they were home, at which point she started buzzing again.

“daddy, daddy, daddy! i gotta get out! come on,” the girl whined, fighting against the seatbelts. leo laughed, moving quickly to free her.

“you’ve got time, babygirl, breathe,” he told her as he lifted her out of the seat and set her down on the ground, reaching back into the car for her pink backpack as she bounced up to the front door. amara reached up with her tiny hand and managed to open the door, swinging it wide open. leo managed to jump forwards and save it from smashing against the wall, knowing y/n would not have been happy.

“mommy!” amara shouted as she ran into the house, almost falling as she tugged her shoes off. y/n leaned around the corner that led to the kitchen, a grin covering her face. her hair was pulled back with a braid and she had an apron wrapped around her waist, clearly making dinner.

“my baby!” y/n shouted back, scooping the girl up into her own arms. leo closed the door, feeling his heart melt at the sight of his little family. he felt like he’d earned it; for every single tragedy he lived through, he got his dues with his girls.

“mommy, mommy, amanda sprained her ankle today,” amara told y/n, excitedly laying her hands on her mothers cheeks. leo noted the small panic flare in her eyes.

“What were you guys doing in ballet today?” she asked, holding the girl against her hip as she stirred something in a pot.

“amanda was doing something she wasn’t supposed to,” clarified leo as he made his way into the kitchen, calming his wife’s nerves. he watched her release a small breath at the information before smiling warmly at her husband. she reached up with her free hand, setting it against his cheek and pulling him down for a kiss.

“eww!” amara squealed, wiggling in her mothers grasp as she tried to escape. y/n rolled her eyes as she set the girl down, wrinkling her nose at her daughter.

“one day, you’re not gonna find it so gross,” y/n stated, in a sing-songy voice, bopping the little girl’s nose.

��a day that is very, very, very far away,” leo insisted, nearly growing pale at the thought of his daughter having her first kiss.

“yeah, keep telling yourself that, hot stuff,” y/n mused, turning as she chopped up some carrots. leo came up behind her, setting his hands flat against her stomach like he used to when they were teenagers, his lips finding home on her neck.

“how was your day, y/n?” he asked, swaying them back and forth to an unknown rhythm.

“perfectly bland,” she smiled at him, the kind of day they grew to appreciate after their teens, “jason called. Wants to stop by sometime this week. he’s traveling about to see everyone right now since the airlines are giving him a pretty long vacation.”

“hmm. i’ll call him back later, pick a day,” leo replied, smiling at the thought of one of his best friends.

“uncle jace is coming over?” amara questioned, peeking her head into the kitchen. y/n hummed in response, giving her daughter a warm smile.

“you need a bath before dinner, little girl,” y/n added, pointing a wooden point at amara, who squealed and ran out of the kitchen. leo pressed his lips to her cheek before patting her hips.

“i can finish dinner. go rangle the beast,” he told her, tilting his head with a bright smile.

“just like old days, huh?” y/n mused with a smile, walking backwards. leo rolled his eyes, pointing the spoon at her now.

“don’t even start with me. you would have ran out of shields and swords years ago had it not been for me. how’d you win then, bubble brain?” he mocked back and y/n laughed, waving him off before managing to grab amara as she tried to run past.

“What’s daddy talking about?” amara managed to get out between her squeals. y/n shared a small look with leo before pressing her lips to amara’s head.

“dumb grown up stuff, babygirl. i’ll tell you when you’re older,” y/n hummed, swinging the girl around in her arms as she made her way up the stairs towards the bathroom. it was hard, keeping so much of their lives secret from amara but she was just too young to understand. she wouldn’t understand why family trees were hard. she wouldn’t understand why her parent’s were littered with scars, both visible and invisible. she wouldn’t understand why all of photos of her parents as teens had weird horses in the background and only orange shirts as far as the eye could see.

leo finished the soup, quite proud of himself for doing so without a recipe. he was on the phone with jason, leaning back against the counter as he portioned out the correct stuff onto amara’s sectioned plate. her bowl of soup was in the fridge, cooling down. as much as leo insisted amara had some kinda heat resistance, y/n was always too scared to test anything yet.

“i’m telling you, she’s growing like a weed. you’re gonna see her and not recognize her,” leo spoke into the phone, a wide smile on his face as jason laughed.

“i doubt that. those curls are hard to miss,” jason replied and leo could just hear the smirk on his face.

“hey! she got those from her daddy i’ll have you know!”

“yeah, she’s definitely your kid, no mistaking that,” jason laughed on his end, before there was a minor pause, leo having a feeling he knew where this was going.

“did you…did you hear about travis?” jason whispered into the phone, gently. this type of conversation is becoming more common these days. leo sighed, leaning back and looking to make sure y/n was still occupied with amara.

“yeah. connor called me. i haven’t told y/n yet,” he muttered back, running a hand through his hair. connor called him earlier in the day, telling him travis had been nearly killed by a couple of fury’s that caught him off guard at his job.

“i just- i thought we were done with this shit, you know what i mean?” leo continued with a huff.

“i’m just worried that one day, i’m gonna get that call from you and y/n, or piper, or reyna, or percy and annabeth,” jason replied, his voice heavy, and leo could feel his tension through the phone.

“i know, trust me, i know. the amount of sleep y/n and i have lost over guardianship of amara is crazy. she’s in danger with every person that we love,” leo breathed out and jason hummed on the other end.

“i’d take her in a heartbeat,” jason joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“percy’d kill you for her,” leo laughed.

“he’s got his hands full with their kids. i’ve got the high ground here!” jason argued his case and leo just laughed harder. amara then came running into the kitchen, her curls free from the bun and bouncing and lightly dripping water.

“daddy, daddy, daddy, is it uncle jase?” amara excitedly asked, tugging on his pant leg and looking up at him with excitement.

“uncle jase? no, no, this is just the weather man i know,” leo mused into the phone a flabbergasted noise coming from jason as leo put the phone on speaker.

“don’t listen to him, mara!” jason called, causing amara to squeal excitedly and made grabby hands for the phone.

“be careful, baby, i’m serious,” leo told her before handing his phone off, excitedly blubbering to jason as she walked towards the living room. y/n walked into the kitchen with a different shirt on and some suds on her face still. leo laughed lightly as he raised his hand, softly rubbing the bubbles away.

“is she on the phone with jason?” y/n questioned, peeking into the living room. leo hummed in response, pouring her a bowl of soup. y/n took it from him with a kiss before setting it on the dining table, something she was adamant about. leo followed, also setting up amara’s seat as y/n grabbed the little girl and phone.

“say goodbye to uncle jase, baby, you gotta have dinner so you grow big and strong like him,” y/n mused into the phone, earning a chuckle from jason, before amara cried her goodbyes. jason called back similarly before y/n took him off speaker and held the phone up to her ear.

“did leo pick a day for you to come over?” she asked as she moved around the kitchen, pouring drinks and grabbing the little girl a napkin.

“yeah. thursday. he said something about amara having the day off,” jason replied.

“perfect! We love having you over, jason, you know that,” stated y/n, smiling widely.

“i love being over. Well, i’ll leave you guys to your night,” he added and y/n nodded even though he couldn’t see it.

“yeah, of course. see you soon. love you, sparky.”

“love you too, y/n.”

y/n hung up, passing the phone off to leo before pressing a kiss to his cheek as she took her seat next to him. they ate their dinner, amara excitedly talking about her day. she told leo about how mommy made waves with the water of her bath, causing leo to shoot her a pointed look. y/n was quick to explain it away as ‘mommy magic,’ wiggling her hands at the little girl, who couldn’t stop the giggles from coming out of her mouth. y/n cleaned up dinner as leo took amara to the living room, allowing some kiddy show to play while she curled up on the couch next to him. once she was asleep and drooling all over leo, they gently picked her up and took her into her room. y/n tucked her in, pressing a long kiss to her forehead before getting up, allowing leo to do the same before they left, leaving the door open just a crack. the couple then made their way downstairs, laying back down on the couch, y/n’s legs draped over leo’s lap, her head resting against his arm, which was slung on the back of the couch.

“connor called today,” leo whispered out, easily gaining y/n’s attention, her brows furrowing.

“during my lunch. travis, he- he got hurt pretty bad today,” leo continued, trying to ease into the conversation, rubbing his hand over y/n’s, “While he was at work, a couple of fury’s managed to get the jump on him.”

“oh, gods…is he okay?” y/n breathed out and leo could feel her hands start to shake.

“he’s okay. just a little banged up,” leo instantly soothed, giving her hand a squeeze and giving her a comforting look. y/n instantly moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso as leo replied in a similar fashion.

“...will it ever end?” y/n asked in a small voice, which shook, “haven’t we given enough? i’ve spent my whole entire life on this crap and it still won’t leave us alone.”

“it’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. nothing’s happened yet and if something does happen, we’re prepared,” leo muttered against her shoulder, pressing a kiss there once he was done.

“i know, i know…i just- i worry about her,” replied y/n, both of them knowing exactly who they were talking about.

“she’s a lot like you. she’ll be okay,” leo stated, smiling softly at his wife who rolled her eyes at him.

“please, she’s your mini-me. don’t patronize me,” she joked, shoving him off her as she got up off the couch, subtly wiping away her tears, hoping leo wouldn’t notice. he did, but knew better than to point it out.

“fine. but she looks just like you!” leo argued and y/n gave him a look, causing him to laugh.

“liar! you’re just trying to make me feel better that i carried her inside of me for nine months just for you to steal all of her genetic code,” y/n huffed, locking the front door while leo locked the back door, the pair turning off most of the lights in the house, leaving little ones on for amara if she woke up to get water or use the bathroom.

“no, no, no. she’s got your nose and your hair color! and when she wrinkles her nose, it’s got you written all over it,” leo raved and y/n laughed, shaking her head at him as they moved up the stairs towards their room.

“she may have my hair color but she’s got your curls. and your ears and she’s got your stupidly cute thinking face,” y/n insisted, flipping the light on in their room and heading towards their shared bathroom.

“so, what i’m hearing is that our daughter is a perfect mix of us?” leo questioned with a wide smirk as he followed after her, tugging off his shirt.

“yup. sounds about right to me,” y/n mused, turning around and throwing her arms around his neck as she looked him up and down, a wide smile on her face, “hmm. what were we even arguing about again?”

“can’t seem to remember,” leo added with a laugh, both of them quickly undressing before hopping into the shower together.

it wasn’t anything crazy intimate; at least, not in the sense you're thinking. they talked about their days, adding details they couldn’t exactly say in front of their five year old. y/n liked to wash leo’s hair, always huffing about how he didn’t take care of his curls. though he'd never admit it, he did notice his hair was better once he moved in with y/n and started this ritual. leo did make a comment about trying to make another kid that looks more like y/n while running his hand up her thigh but she gave him a kiss before shoving him off with a light laugh. she reminded him of their agreement to wait until amara was in school, to which leo pouted and cuddled up on y/n with an exaggerated sigh. the two moved under the covers of their bed, cuddling up to each other before losing their fight against trying to stay awake.

“mommy?” y/n heard, instantly forcing her eyes to open and focus as she looked at the edge of her bed, being met with her daughter’s blonde curls and bloodshot eyes. the girl hiccupped a cry and y/n was instantly awake, reaching over and pulling amara into bed with her, setting the girl in her lap. she cupped amara’s tear-stained face, her heartstrings pulling as she continued to cry.

“What’s wrong, baby?” y/n whispered, leo starting to stir awake next to her. he sat up on his elbows, looking over and taking in the scene before waking up more at the sight of his daughter crying. amara just continued to blubber, unable to get words out through her tears.

“baby, princesa, you’ve got to breathe,” leo muttered, reaching over and running a hand over her back, calming her down like he would y/n. amara started to take big breaths, trying to calm herself down.

“good girl. tell mommy what happened, amara,” y/n begged, pushing back the girl’s curls so she could see her face better.

“t-there’s monsters in my room,” amara hiccupped out, y/n’s face falling and her blood running cold. leo just stared, feeling his heart and mind working overtime.

“what?” she gasped out, her normally soft voice she’d use with amara lost.

“i saw- i saw monsters in my room, mommy, they- they- they were out to get me!” amara continued, her breathing turning heavy again. y/n hugged amara to her body, shushing her and trying to calm her breathing again. she looked over at leo, who was already getting up and reaching into his bedside table, pulling out a knife that he quickly hid from amara’s view.

“leo,” y/n begged, shooting a hand forwards to grasp his. he pressed a kiss to her head.

“i’ll be back. stay here, y/n, stay with amara,” he whispered against her head. y/n squeezed her eyes shut and let go, even though everything in her body was telling her not to. she let him leave, waiting with bated breath while she tried to occupy amara and get her to stop crying.

“baby, what did they look like, these monsters?” y/n whispered, rocking the two of them back and forth, the girl snuggly held against her chest.

“like the ones from uncle nico’s books,” she replied and y/n’s heart clenched, partially because now they were running real risks and leo was taking his damn sweet time and because she was going to kill nico for showing her daughter those drawings. finally, the door swung open and leo came back, shaking his head at y/n, who let out a breath and managed to just barely keep her tears at bay.

“i just scared them all off, amorito. no more monsters,” leo told her, pressing a kiss to her head with a shaky breath. amara and y/n both seemed to sag in relief, for two different reasons. leo slid back into bed next to them, wrapping his arms around his little family in hopes of keeping them this safe forever.

“you wanna stay here with daddy and i?” y/n offered, though her tight hold on her daughter indicated that she wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“yes, please,” amara whimpered, snuggling into the space between the two.

“always, babygirl, always,” leo replied, pulling the blankets up to her chin and tucking her in. they both stayed up, waiting for amara to fall asleep. she was a lot like percy, a deep sleeper that was constantly drooling all over their pillows. it never failed to bring a smile to y/n’s face, seeing her little brother in her daughter.

“i didn’t see anything out of place. i think it was just a nightmare. though, i have no idea where she got this idea of monsters from,” leo whispered to y/n, running his fingers through amara’s hair.

“apparently, nico showed her some pictures last time he babysat,” y/n muttered back, sniffling as she tried to stop herself from crying.

“i’m gonna kill him,” leo groaned, half tempted to hunt the goth down now.

“i think it was an accident. you know he wouldn’t do that on purpose,” y/n reasoned and leo huffed, glancing over at his wife, realizing the state she was in.

“oh, y/n.”

“i- i honestly thought you’d find something. i don’t want to live like this, leo, constantly scared something is just gonna swoop down and take her away from us,” reasoned y/n, the tears slowly trailing down her face she kept her eyes on her precious daughter.

“I know, honey, me neither. but, we’ll be okay,” hummed leo, reaching over their child and setting a hand against her damp cheek, forcing her eyes to him.

“how can you know that?”

“because i’ve got you. and you have me. nothing will ever be too bad that we can’t face it,” leo insisted, giving her a small tilted smile.

“together?” y/n offered, returning his smile with one of her own

“together,” leo confirmed, nodding his head in a way that couldn’t be argued with.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez

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eilidh-eternal · 1 month

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🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Ohhhhhh I have SO MANY recommendations!

@yeyinde their entire masterlist. Absolutely transformative experience reading anything and everything Lev writes. I want to be her when I grow up

@groguspicklejar Chink In the Armor! Best medieval Ghoap AU I’ve ever read!!!! Mafia!141 is so deliciously angsty and she captures it soooo perfectly! Kelsi is absolutely my go to for any and all Kyle pretty boy Garrick reads!!!

@gemmahale Gemma my beloved🖤 everything she writes is literal treasure. Priceless. Deserving of a pretty glass case and soft leather bindings. There are worlds in her head I could not dream up in 100 lifetimes, and her OC’s are sooo complex and well rounded!

@peachesofteal once again, her entire masterlist. Everything she writes is guaranteed to leave me staring at the damn wall with the loading circle spinning on my forehead, wishing I could jump through my screen and live in the worlds she writes

@luminousbeings-crudematter Folie á Deux, Donner Party, and Land Softly are some of my favorites! I still need to work my way through the rest of Lumi’s masterlist😅 but the way she writes Simon 😳 my enclosure only has so many bars, I’m going to have to replace it soon

@391780 oh god too many to count! I looooove the way Early writes dark!141 and ALL of her stories highlight and praise big soft bodies🥰 she also does comic relief INSANELY well, and I just know anytime I sit down to read her fics I’m gonna have a good laugh (get wrecked König)

@moondirti I have just read the first part of Cabin fever and I am already IN LOVE with Dee and their writing style! Cannot wait to read more when I have the chance!

@ceilidho I was not a Price girly when I started getting into CoD, but Ceil’s take on him has irreversibly altered my brain chemistry🫠 and her characterization of a darker Simon?! Canon. She’s in charge now.

@auspicioustidings OH MY GOD!!!! Mhairi just started Ae Fond Kiss and I am so, so, sooooo in love with the concept for this fic! It’s already incredibly gut wrenching and I know I’m gonna be a sobbing mess throughout this series! Truly on the edge of my seat!!!

@pfhwrittes P has such a wrinkly brain! I’m absolutely in love with their Here Be Kink and Dealing Drugs and Feelings collections! Absolutely phenomenal writing! Everything they write is so dark, decadent and rich🤤

@kaadaaan Offer Me His Hunger is such a beautifully written descent into madness and obsession, and Vi does a truly immaculate job of portraying it! I chew on drywall thinking about this DAILY!!!!

@ohbo-ohno PUPPY! SOAP! Don’t Leave Me Locked In Your Heart was the beginning of a very transformative experience for me and with every new fic Bo writes I descend further into madness😵‍💫 I cannot unsee Soap with big puppy eyes and a pouty face and I think Bo should be on the writers team for his “surprise I’m not dead but guess what? I’m Very Fucked Up™️ now” story arc in MWIV bc that was not him in that tunnel

@glossysoap The go-to for any and all Captain related thoughts! Price and 09’ Soap can captain my ship anytime as long as it’s Glossy’s version🫡 Peppers is absolutely deserving of it’s namesake🥵

@charliemwrites never misses! All of her characterizations are spot-fucking-on and she has a wonderful selection of CoD characters that span multiple genres! I’m particularly in love with Woof Woof Johnny🥴 (nasty little freak🖤) and Fields of Elation

@vanderilnde RUGBY! PLAYER! SOAP! He’s dirty and nasty and pervy and pathetic!!!! What more could you want from a man like him? And the way Orion writes him…… CHEWING ON GLASS! I love when soap is a pathetic little whore and Orion NAILED IT!!!

@the-californicationist Oooohhhhh Guile and Guilt was one of the first CoD fics I ever read and it lives in my head 24/7, even when Johnny is whispering Nasty™️ ideas in my ear. The story, the poetry, the characterizations…. IT’S LITERAL PERFECTION!!!!

#eilidh’s asks #author recs #fic recs

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xxzlushiez · 11 months

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Please do bill x reader smutt female

Also separate can u do a georg smutt

Under the sheets

Bill K. x F! Reader & Georg L. x F! Reader (separate)

Synopsis: I dont't really have one to be honest just how bill and Georg are in bed HEHEHE

Notes: smut smut smut, 18+, oral, the basics,

A/N: Since there weren't any specifics, I decided to just make these general head canons I hope you don't mind🫶

Bill Kaulitz

- loves to make it about you

- no matter the circumstances he just loves to put you first

- Eats you out like a starved man

- Heavy on leaving marks on you

- Bites your inner thighs to tease you

- He only edges if he’s having a rough day otherwise he’d feel to bad and just want you to feel good

- Goes crazy if you agree to wear something of his

- Like a necklace of his he loves to watch it bounce against your chest when you ride him

- If you wear his shirt he can’t control himself

- We all know how tall he is so naturally it’s many sizes to big for you

- Kinda has a size kink

- Likes to completely envelope you in bed

- Content on just watching your facial expressions

- Pays close attention to what makes you loud and quieter

- Knows all your sensitive spots because of it

- Sometimes he gets into kinks but I feel like he doesn’t like to choke you but when you choke him? AHHH

- he’s just like a giggling and moaning mess when your hands are even NEAR his throat

- Likes the weirdest positions

- But his favorite one is kinda normal

- Loves wall sex

- He says it’s just so “natural” for him

- Whatever that means

- Leaves you so sore the way he makes your body bend

- Heavy aftercare

- Likes to take a shower and just soak in the water with you

- After he leaves you unable to walk he’ll be like

- “Oh! Tom invited us to dinner so be ready in 30 minutes”

Georg Listing

- I have mixed feelings about Georg

- I really feel like he’s either really soft or really rough in bed

- So I’m gonna say he’s both

- It’s not depending on if he had a bad day but more just when he feels like it

- Sometimes he comes back from a long day of interviews and just wants to lazy fuck

- Enjoys watching you work for it a little

- If you ride him he’ll just rock you against him with his hands while he stares up at you

- Sometimes he lays down but he also likes to sit against the headboard so he can make out with you

- PULL HIS HAIR BRO

- moans so loud when you do and it eggs him on

- The mood he’s in to go rough is usually a post-concert mood where he’s pumped full of energy and just wants to take it out on you

- If you were at the concert he’s just fucking your brains out while having a full conversation

- “Did you see me? Today was so good I felt like I played well it was so cool. Do you think I played well?”

- While you’re just like nodding while trying not to pass out from the pleasure

- Doggy style with him is rotting my whole BRAIN rn

- He pushes your head into the covers while playing with your ass

- Gets a little aggressive when he hears all your pretty noises

- Likes making you cry (in a good way I promise)

- Shower sex with him is a must

- Loves the way you look all drenched with water while he’s fucking you

- Mesmerized by the way the water trails down your body

- And can we talk abt how HE’D LOOKS?

- his hair looks sooo good slicked back

- he might put it up if you like it that way or if it’s bothering him to much

- He just looks like a Greek statue

- He’s literally the horniest person ever

- But you love him for it

- Just make sure you can keep up because he moves fast😭

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proqhetic · 1 month

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Could you write your head canons for what dating Lottie would be like? Sorry it’s basic this is my first time requesting 😅

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ ꪆৎ ˚ ⋅ dating lottie matthews hcs

cw: nsfw at the bottom, blood

when your relationship is just starting out, i think lottie would be extremely shy or reserved

i don’t think she has a lottttt of experience (compared to say jackie or nat), and she’s always kept to herself more, so she’d be extra cautious about not messing this up or making you uncomfortable in anyway

trusts you with the “weirder” sides of herself that she’s usually too embarrassed to show around others and you only love her even more for it

she’s so cute WAAAJSHAHSKFHAGJ

will do the pinky thing when she wants to hold your hand where she just lightly pokes your hand with it before you just full on take her hand in yours 😭😭

“lottie, we’re already dating. you can hold my hand.” “i just— i wasnt sure!” she defends herself while grinning, taking your hand in hers

her main love language is definitely gift giving!! she’ll gladly shower you in gifts and presents everyday if she knew it would make you happy

if you mention in passing about an expensive pair of shoes you’ve been eyeing for a while now or a funko pop of one of ur faves just dropped, expect to see it nicely wrapped in a bow on your bed by the next day <3

expect her to go ALL OUT for valentine’s day, christmas and your birthday in terms of surprising you with presents and parties.

matching halloween costumes are also on the agenda

cannot cook to save her life this point should just be canon (will try to cook breakfast in bed for you and fail miserably)

sleepovers at her house after soccer practice!!! you’d sit on the bleachers and watch her during practice with heart eyes like those cheesy high school movies while you wait for her

so. many. forehead kisses. (that height difference mmm)

light sleeper — (esp pre-dating) frequently wakes up in the middle of the night and has trouble falling asleep. your presence alone has been such a help,, she’ll have an arm wrapped around your waist or fall asleep tucked into the crook between your neck and shoulder while u play with her hair > <

but the second you crawl up to pee in the middle of the night you come back and see her awake and staring back at you all groggy and pouty hhjshdjehs

asks nat how to create a mixtape just so she can create one for you with all the songs that remind her of you

slips you those stupid post-its in class with the checkboxes that are like

“ hey.. i think ur pretty cute :) date tn? ▢ yes!! ♡ ▢ no :( ”

even though it’s been like a good few months into your rs

⚠️ — nsfw

secretly a freak but wbk… let’s be honest here!!!!

loves whispering the filthiest things in your ear when you guys are out with your friends just to see you get all worked up and flustered

that paired with her evil grinnn oh when her fangs poke out MMMMNNCMSBV i’m going insane

speaking of fangs… biting your lip/neck until she draws blood (vampire!lottie you will always be famous)

sooo whiny. non stop whimpering. even draws them out because she knows how much hearing her turns you on

needs to build some confidence around you and get over that embarrassed start but could definitelyy be the dom one if she wanted

sleepy sex is her favourite >_< waking up to two of her fingers already inside you as she greets you with a drawled “good morning babyy” and a chaste kiss as she adds a third finger in

#WE ARE SO BACK #lottie things 💭#.nsfw #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews smut #yellowjackets smut #anomz

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sillybond · 7 months

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As a send of here's my compilation of every detail/gag or pretty much everything that I loved about the Fionna and Cake finale.

First off, the lighthearded stuff.

First of all. That's Hunter!!! We finally get to see HW gender-swapped counterpart's design. Gotta say I love that they kept it the same, it does feel like it could fit anyone.

Talking about him, I LOVE that they are finally adding him to the gang. I didn't expect him to be so prevalent in the finale, but I couldn't be happier! It seems like the crew has finnaly learned to apreciate HW and they are inserting her (even if it's Hunter) whenever they can.

All the raw emotion of the lich would have been unheard of at any other point in AT's history. The depression and hopelessnes, such human emotions were amazing to explore in him. He poses himself as a "ceesless weel" a god-like beeing of pure destruction, but even he neels when he realices it was all for nothing.

For some time I theorized that Golb (and subsequently Golbetty) was, in fact, Scarabs and Prismo's Boss. Kind of like a ultimate deity, high up on the pantheon. But seeing how Scarab adresses her in such a careles way, emphasizing that she should "stay out of this" made me think about the real power dinamic between thees two. And thus, of the whole multiverse bureocracy.

This tittle card rips me apart. It's briming with thematic importance. But I feel so many emotions simply beacuse it says cheers, it's like a send-off, a happy cheerfull goodbye to all of us who enjoyed this show. It made me tear up a bit when I first saw it.

For thoose who aren't aware Pawn Swan's was created by Steven Wolfhard after CAWM alongside the pup kingdom. He has in his tumblr a gigantic amount of lore about it. I'm sooo happy they finally got to use his ideas and designs. Many of the pups seen all trought Shermy and Beth's sequence were in his drawings too. So go check that out!

I'm a complete sucker for happy endings and THIS was PERFECTION. I simply connot describe how much I obsolutely LOVE that they are able to comunicate and talk. it's just perfect, this show has me spoiled-rotten.

In pure Marceline fashion Marshal tries playing another song. And Gary is soo into this man it's unreal

But, also in pure Marceline fashion, he gets interupted. It kind of reminded me about Marceline's song to Bonny in Obsidian. But it's kind of the oposite outcome, Scarab isn't affected by it at all while Glorbo is finaly delt with.

Talking about Simon being happy. I'm just so glad that he has been able to reconect with Astrid!!! This man is such a DAD, I love him :,)

Before Fionna's world was finaly canonized we can see that it really just amounts to the city. Which makes sense because if you are trying to put a whole world in a dude's head, you are going to have to cut some stuff out.

Anyways, after they are made legit we can see that the city has expanded! And I also assume that now there's not only a city, but a whole world too!!

This really came as a surprise honeslty, but a welcomed one at that. I assume that since Jay agrees to stay in the city, even if it's not forever, Farmworld Finn must be fine. It doesn't make any sense for him to drop his 4 little brothers just to screw around in another universe.

The only sad part is that, since we don't see neither PB nor Marcy in the tank that means they are probably dead. In the end it does seem like they took eachothers life, together.

Now onto the heavy stuff!

"This is the world we want to fight for. The Scarab is kind of invincible. But we won't give up. If we die, we'll die together, as ourselves"

This cuts deep. At this moment Fionna was ready to die. She acknowledges that she had tried everything she could and that, in a way, it was her fault. But she also understands that this is what it is. And she's ready to depart. In what she thought were her last moments she found happines in thoose and that around her. Magic or not, they were all together, and that's what mattered.

"We made our choices. We could have made better ones, but I don't have any regrets. You were a wonderful experience"

We knew Simon had wronged Betty. She had put away everything for him. He didn't do it on porpuse, but he recognised he could have been more thoughtful. In the end, while Simon acknowledges his mistakes Betty doesn't demonise neither him nor the relationship that came bacuse of it. It's a very sentimental, heartfelt conclusion.

As humans we often try to make our best to navigate life. But with all the choices in front of us it's very hard to get it right. A lot of time might have to pass before we truly see how wrong we were. We realize that we hurt people, and that things didn't have to be this way. But once we acknowledge this we can finaly move on. At this moment, Simon realizes that it's okay to fail but, unfortunetly, we can't go back. We have to live with it and it can't prevent us from moving forward.

In the end all we can do is have compassion for ourselves, and for each other.

That was pretty much all of the details and highlights for me. There's some other ones but they are kind of too obvious to point out.

Thanks a lot for reading the whole thing! It means a lot :)

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 6 months

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Gay wrongs tournament, round 2.5 of the major bracket

Propaganda:

For Eddie Brock and Venom:

I'm pretty sure its Canon in the comics and like, Canon adjacent in the 2nd movie??? Idk I just watched the first one sooo, anyways, this isn't propaganda i just couldn't remember if you said they needed to be Canon so I put what I rembered about that here, idk I'm proboboly just gonna send the propaganda in the ask box at a later date

They eat people:) venom is an alien symbiote and Eddie is the host and they have melded together into one being. They care for and protect each other and are so intimately intwined they are only ever separated by force. Also they’re both absolute disasters and they periodically bite and eat the heads off their enemies.

They eat people <3

For Will and Hannibal:

Ive previously only heard the term "murder husbands" refer to hannigram so it feels flitting. The whole series culminated with a murder they did together bathing in blood.

The show and ship that coined murder husbands. It’s in the text in s3 from a journalist side character. They do Many murders either together or as a message to each other. Usually this involves turning the dead body into an art piece. The show ends with them killing a guy together in a slo mo scene backed by porno music.

They're both batshit and manipulative.

ALRIGHT so they're not canonically together but it is HEAVILY implied and they have some sort of fucked up psychosexual obsession with each other. in the later parts of the show they start committing murder and cannibalism together and they're soooo unhinged but it's awesome

kill people for each other. maim each other. kill people together. most batshit insane metaphors. send each other to jail. ruin everyone’s lives. someone can probably say this better than me but these gay people are insane

Literally THE murder husbands. They kill for each other. They've tried to kill each other. They're canon in all but name, like the homoeroticism between these two is the driving force of the show.

one time hannibal folded a guy into an origami human heart

They are in love and they kill and eat people. They are called Murder Husbands in canon.

The original murder husbands (literally, that's not just their ship name, they get called that in canon)

The show begins with Will working for the FBI and trying to catch Hannibal, but because Hannibal is so intrigued by the way Will is able to see the world and the motives behind the killings so easily, it becomes a game of Hannibal isolating Will even more from the people around and seducing him to try and kill. By the time Will starts embracing the side of him that Hannibal sees, he starts oulling back and trying to distance himself so that when the time comes for Will to fully embrace himself and Hannibal, no one really suspects what they have planned.

hannibal literally does murder as courtship and it works bc will is also a fucked up little guy

I'm actually quite offended they aren't included by default (joke). They are THE murder husbands!!!!!! (mod note: they should have been, but I wanted to see how many submissions they'd get. They got 19, making them a little more than 6% of total submission count).

do i have to say it. they literally get called murder husbands IN THE SHOW

There are 3201 works for Hannibal on ao3 tagged Murder Husbands. They are the ogs, they are the pioneers we owe it all to them.

THEE murder couple. You know it. I know it. They commit crimes at each other as courting and then commit crimes together and then fall off a cliff to wash up somewhere and live on to serve cunt. Get referred to as 'murder husbands' in canon. What more do you need

Hannigram were literally called Murder Husbands in canon, they are the og, they are THE blueprint. They were gay as hell and comitted so much murder so many crimes. THEY RAN OFF TO EUROPE TOGETHER.

#gay wrongs tournament round 2 #venom #hannibal nbc #hannibal #symbrock #hanningram #eddie brock #venom symbiote #hannibal lecter #will graham

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tremendum · 8 months

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Mr. Miller's Show

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.3k (back to regularly scheduled programming) requested: yes thank you all for all the patience srsly <3 summary: “'like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?'" warnings: gendered words (girl, woman, etc) allusions to PTSD, porn with feelings, guys theyre like getting healthier, SMUT (PiV unprotected), oral (M receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, face-fucking, shower smut, counter smut, reader is a tease, masturbation (f), marijuana use as always lol, brief voyeurism, canon-typical violence, age gap (undefined but mentioned), ass play (spitting, fingering, only a bit sorryyyy), mirror sex again bc im a whore, reader has hair long enough to grab, hair pulling, lots of choking, spit kink, light slapping (f receiving, consensual), dirty talk, praise kink but also degradation, use of words like slut, brat tamer!joel, overstimulation, MEAN!JOEL YALL, but he has feelings so he’s also kinda soft!dom in this again, once again sooo unedited that it hurts. notes: finally finally after over a month im back!! hope you enjoy this chapter, ive been having rough writers block with this story so any suggestions and requests are very welcomed!!! thanks for all the love and as always, comments & reblogs w tags are motivation and help out so much!!! love u all <3 also for the taglist, it's too big now and i may consider stopping my taglist, just letting everyone know!!! ill lyk if i do ofc but im reblogging with the list this time.

[this is part six of the Mr Miller series. read previous part sympathy for the devil. main masterlist here. ]

★

"you're wearing earrings."

Joel's voice cuts through the serene chill in the air, shocking you enough to have your head turning away from where you stare ahead - you crane your neck too much, but you can just see the dusted gray and dark of his curls behind you as your brows raise.

it takes you a second to understand the sentence he's just uttered to you out of nowhere- but you blink to life, clearing your throat as the dead trees pass you by.

"oh. yeah, it's... they're new. didn't really wear stuff like that until..." you shrug, trailing off as you stare forward yet again. your heart thumps as his chest rumbles against your back - jesus, he's so close to you. it's been weeks since he's been this close, even if this is just work.

your body wants what it wants, you suppose.

your lips purse, lost in the press of his thick body behind you.

"-till?"

your lip twitches in a smile for a split moment; he's waiting for you to finish your sentence. as if he cares.

Joel...

he's been so normal recently. or as normal as you could ever imagine Joel Miller to be; full sentence-conversations full of questions, full sentences, and even an occasional joke or dry line littered in with his glares and eye-rolls. he's even taught you and ellie to woodwork, nodded in hello when you picked up Ellie on your way into town - hell, he'd actually gotten a drink with you after patrol a few days ago and held eye contact for a whole thirty minutes.

a fucking miracle.

and even, on rare occasions, you are rewarded with that mind-splitting, earth-shattering smile - a very rare but rewarding sight. the kind that shocks a room, silences you and Ellie both, lights the sun and makes the birds sing. makes your stomach flutter.

so perhaps things have changed.

it makes you almost laugh to yourself, recalling that day so many moons ago when you had walked into the Bison and first stared into those stony eyes; how big his calloused hands were, the way his lip lifted in distaste at your crass words.

the sway of the horse makes your hips move gently; your ass is starting to feel sore at the constant motion and as you rock forward with the decline of the hill, you feel Joel's body slide slightly as though he tries against everything to press fully against you. even though you wish he would.

heat paints your face as you feel his breath on your neck, waiting patiently for you to finish your sentence.

your sharp breath exhales as you realize you've hesitated at his questioning, a bit too long - you smile sheepishly, shrugging. "-sorry, didn't..." you clear your throat, "couldn't remember the last time I wore earrings. not that it matters, but I just..." you thumb the makeshift earring back, grinning to the mane of the horse as he trudges you and Joel both along.

"-it feels nice. makes me feel like myself." you finish, shrugging awkwardly.

for all of the steps Joel has taken in the last few weeks to change, there are some things you still have a hard time with.

talking about yourselves and opening up is a very large, unmovable hurdle that you and him are still clearly trying to pull yourselves over. it's quiet for a second as your words seep into the dead surroundings, less than an hour from town.

"look nice." he grunts quietly, his arms pressing slightly from where he straddles the saddle behind your frame.

your eyes widen at the seemingly random compliment, face flooding with flattery and embarrassment. your grin betrays you, but you don't dare stutter out a broken thank you for fear that you will sound like a croaking frog; instead, you purse your lips over the giddy grin that spreads over your cheeks and hope that as he stares at the profile of your face, he can see the flattery written across your features.

"Ellie has a matching pair." you say instead, sparing a quick glance back at Joel. his brows raise, jaw ticking as he takes in the information - your voices both echo at the same time as you speak over each other suddenly:

"she doesn't have her ears pierced." "in case she ever gets them pierced."

you let out a short huff of laughter, nodding sheepishly at having accidentally interrupted each other; Joel shakes his head with a ghost of a smile.

"got it." he nods, "s'real nice of you." he nods, "making a pair for her, too."

his chest is right on you - broad, warm through all the layers, and smelling of pine, whiskey, sage. amber. it's intoxicating as his drawl rumbles in the back of your ear - you silently thank Tommy or whoever the hell it was who ordered half the horses to rest after a bout of sickness spread through the stable; sharing a horse has never once before today seemed like a good idea.

but the good idea sours quickly when you kick speed slightly, the horse leaping over a small creek as your hips shift back into Joel's and your ass presses into him.

your mouth dries as you shakily exhale; he's so close to you - smells so good. your hands grip the reigns tighter and you nearly jump when a large, calloused hand falls onto your hips to steady you after the change in pace.

your mind travels back to that morning after you'd stayed with Joel in his own bed - how gentle his hands had been as he'd guided you towards your own house under the early morning sunrise; your eyes bleary with sleep but his smile still cracking bashfully when you'd kissed his cheek, muttering about how maybe Ellie'd missed your boots by the front door when she'd come home.

she and Joel certainly haven't said anything you if she did notice, anyways.

you clear your throat, ignoring the searing desire that spirals from where his hand touches your clothed hip; you shrug, "she said she liked mine, so I figured we could match."

he hums lowly at your word, his nose brushing slightly over the crown of your head. shivers roll over your shoulders as you swallow, retreating into the silence that you've lived in for the last few weeks since the two of you were put back on patrol.

but you stiffen when a hand runs down your side, over the jagged stitching of your jacket, and you suck in a sharp inhale. his other hand slides forward, hooking gently around your hip, fingers splaying over the very top of your thigh and your throat dries up; a faint desire awakened and soon screaming at you. you squirm under his touch.

Joel's hips adjust behind you gently in the next second, your eyes fluttering shut as you imagine him pulling you into him, his hard cock sliding between the round globes of your ass and through your dripping folds, his hands greedy and hungry; his words sharp, teasing. his touch, sweet. intoxicating-

your eyes open again and your heart skips a beat, his knees hitting the outside of your thighs.

christ. your whole body tingles as you shift slightly, rotating your hips as the buck of the horse's cant tilts you further away from the heat of his broad chest. no, you can't stand his teasing - intentional or not, Joel is making you nearly melt in desire.

jesus.

you're barely pulling the horse to the side of the path when, with barely a crane of his neck, Joel mutters, "the hell are y'doin?"

you suddenly pull the reins and mutter woah, slipping yourself off of the horse and onto the hard ground with a burning face, your lungs screaming for air as Joel protests.

"what-" he grunts as he pulls himself down from the stirrups, face etched with irritation and concern at your sudden evacuation, "is there an issue?"

you can hear the irritation in his voice and you sigh, shaking your head - your heart's thundering, face hot and surely laced with poorly-hid embarrassment. god, what the fuck is wrong with you? there's barely forty minutes back to Jackson, why couldn't you just suck it up for a few more torturous minutes until you could return home to your trusty drawer and hot shower?

"no." you snap, "no problem, Joel." your heart is thundering with surprise at his concern, eyes glaring daggers at him before shooting down towards the heat that nearly blisters on your forearm; his hand, warm and gentle, asking silently if you're okay. your eyes soften before you can school your expression - he reads you, as always, like his favorite novel.

his hand falls away gently, grazing your finger tips like the gentlest breeze on your face and it still surprises you.

"alright," he says softly, eyes searching your flustered appearance. "can we get back on the horse, then?" he asks - his voice is surprisingly patient, though his eyes are wary. irritated, but concerned.

you clear your throat, unable to contain yourself much longer. "we could- take a break."

his brows raise, tilting his head, "a break? we're nearly back. s'almost nightfall."

you shift your weight, avoiding the way his corded arms cross over each other, his frame towering over yours as you dully throb in arousal.

"you're-" you squeak, shaking your head, "you're fucking crowding me, and I need- fuck-" you groan, "just- just fuck off for a second, Joel." you snap, bursting in frustration, unsure how to just admit you are being driven fucking crazy with lust by his presence.

his head tilts, "fuck off?" his eyes are darker every second you stand, facing each other- "the hell's gotten into you?" he sounds offended, and your heart flips as you feel bad - you're trying, you're trying so hard to be normal around him, as he is with you - so one touch, one innocent adjustment of his hips and now you're freaking out on him again?

you need to get a grip, or at least be honest.

your face burns as his stern gaze rolls over each curve of your body; "Joel, you're driving me fucking crazy." you snap, glaring at him.

he looks shocked, hands flying out, "I barely said anythin' this whole goddamn day, how the hell am I still fucking this up?" he snaps back, irritated - his eyes incredulous as he stares down at you.

flames lick up your sides as you grind your teeth - his hair looks much more wavy with his curls today, and the green of his jacket it making the golden on his skin nearly glow; you nearly growl as you jump towards him. he's too much. too fucking much.

your hands lock on his shoulders, tugging yourself up towards his face as your lips fall against his.

the kiss is a shock to you both.

you're not sure what really compelled you to do it - the stubble over his sharp jaw, his hair, the way his thighs pressed against the outsides of yours just minutes ago, the way he pressed on about the earrings - whatever, it doesn't matter, because he's kissing you back and you're melting like butter over a campfire.

his lips press hard back against yours through his shocked inhale, surging against you in a dizzying haze of Joel.

but the kiss is seared away from your lips when Joel suddenly shoots his thick hand out, rising to grip hard at your throat, shoving you backwards.

it's more shocking than the sudden kiss - the speed in which he pulls back and pushes you hard backwards by his warm grip, causing flutters of arousal to course through your stomach.

you stumble in shock but he keeps his hold on you, passionate as he movers the two of you back. you're torn away from his warmth as he presses you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the beating pulse of your throat - right against a tree, nudging you as he tilts his head down to your height once more.

he's back on you in no less than a split second; his heat swirling around the cold air, teeth nipping at your lip when you take a moment longer than he'd like to open your lips to his tongue. he groans against you, a warm and deep thing that you feel in your own chest as your hand slides up to his hair, tugging at the base of his neck.

the fingers around your throat flex and tighten in reaction to your own grip and the moan that rips from your throat sends his hips in a slow thrust against yours.

you've been desperate for his touch for fucking days - he's been walking on eggshells even after you'd spent the night with him a few weeks ago. he'd barely touched you, taking his time trying to make up for all the lost time you'd spent trying to rip each other's heads off instead of your clothes.

and sure, you don't know who you are with him still - nothing defined, and a lot of things still unspoken - but for the first time since this whole mess started, that doesn't bother you. there's not much anger, nor jealousy - just... Joel. and you.

it's not bad.

his lips leave yours as he breathes against your lips, "like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?"

his hand slips from your back lower, tugging you against his semi-hard cock as his fingers squeeze your ass. his hand lies just below your jugular, thumb soothing over your cold skin as his dark eyes glint with desire. you feel a rush of arousal pool between your legs as you raise your brows.

"-you need to stop fucking touching me like that when we're riding, Miller." you growl against his lips, staring back at him. you lean slightly to catch his lips with yours once again but he pulls back with a strong hand against your neck to stop you - teasing.

he tuts, "you need to learn how to use your words, sweetheart." he growls against you, teeth catching on your bottom lip.

you whimper at the sharp sting, chasing him as if you could steal a kiss. he tilts his head just out of reach, his hand pressing against you until your breath comes out slightly ragged; your pussy flutters as he squeezes, knee sliding against your clothed core.

"if you want it, ask for it, baby." he all but demands, hands rough against you, "can't just throw a fit every time you're aching for my cock, or else you'll be whinin' all goddamn day. how am I supposed to know-"

but there's a snap of a twig somewhere behind you and you both spring apart, straight as boards, hackles raised.

it's almost like deja-vu as you're both thrown from your stupor - ripping away, your voices cease as your hand flies to your hunting knife - in your peripheral, you see that Joel's slung around his rifle so quick you're almost impressed as you both stare to your left.

christ - just the fucking horse, tied to the tree. stepped on a twig.

you let out a shaky breath, hand falling onto Joel's chest as you almost wheeze out a relieved laugh. but your hand feels it, suddenly - you notice how stiff Joel is, even after you've both realized there's no threats.

his heart, thundering in his chest wildly. like a caged animal surrounded by a pack of wild, ravenous wolves; Joel's heart tries to scramble right out of his chest and onto the dead ground.

that feeling - the one that creeps around at night when you wake up with memories of that cabin, of those raiders - of your past, visions of Joel, surrounded by red. that feeling that creeps up, squeezing at your throat and banging on your chest.

he's feeling it, too.

it's not from arousal, though you can see enough of that in his eyes, in the way his lips part and ragged breaths puff into the air - no, not arousal.

fear.

your heart hammers similarly, you suddenly notice. your hand shakes as it hovers near your knife; his hands grip the rifle so tight the blood may burst forth from the roughened skin any second.

"hey," you whisper, suddenly worried to speak above any quiet noise. his eyes are sharp and his jaw clenched as he looks back at you, wild and alarmed.

as if he were ready to fight for his life and yours.

"let's go home," you whisper, thumb running over the shoulder of his jacket, muscles strained and still below the layers.

he snaps out of it, eyes falling to rake over you as if assuring that you're still in front of him in one piece. his hand finds yours on his chest, sliding it off - not unkindly; his hand squeezes yours before boosting you up onto the double saddle silently.

Joel insists on walking you back to your house; he's brooding, as normal, as you both trudge back from turning in your patrol log and tracking the mud from the stable through the quiet streets.

you don't speak about what happened in the woods - the kiss, nor the twig snapping, but you ache and as you walk, every brush of the backs of your hands send shooting sparks up your arm.

"damn it," he grunts under his breath as you lead him up your driveway. you lift a brow at him, silent prompt to explain his expletive.

he shakes his head, "s'nothin'. forgot Ellie said the water heater ain't workin', said she was stayin' with her friend Dina till I fix it. cold shower for me tonight."

you grimace; the air nips at your cheeks, you can't imagine a cold shower in this weather. you shrug, "use mine." you suggest, tilting your head. "no point in turning into an icicle, Miller, you're cold enough as is." you tease, sending him a small wink.

something in you wonders if the shower really is broken, or if he just can't bring himself to ask; not that you can blame him. you can't bring yourself to ask, either.

your heart flutters when Joel rolls his eyes but still trudges after you, through the entrance of your home. his eyes look just as tired as you feel but there's a spark to them, one that coaxes more warmth between your thighs.

you see his eyes catch on the partially-smoked joint put out on the ashtray on your kitchen table as you slide past it; you have a mind to grab it before you make your way up the stairs, pretending not to feel too hot when you feel Joel's eyes graze over the sway of your hips.

he showers first, you insist.

while he does so, you strip out of your clothes and into a more comfortable sleeping shirt and shorts. you sit, smoking lazily on the joint, savoring the sharp herbal taste as it flows into your blood and trying to ignore the throbbing desire when the sound of the shower shuts off.

Joel's respectful when he leaves your bathroom, pants on and shirt tugged over his chest, speckled with dots of moisture. his hair is much darker and more curled just after a shower; you're transfixed as you stand in front of him, joint smoldering between your lips, an exhale of smoke swirling lazily from your nostrils.

"may I?" he asks suddenly, causing you to nod, pulling the joint out from your lips and noting how his own dark eyes follow it like a horse to a carrot; you smirk, tutting. "and to think, all this time you've been judging me for it?" you shake your head. "shame on you."

his jaw ticks and you just smirk, shaking your head as you hold the joint up to his lips boldly. "you're a bad influence on me, aren't you, Mr. Miller?" you ask, voice sultry as you peer up at him through your lashes. his eyes flick to yours as he inhales, your fingers ghosting over his plush lips. the ones you kissed not an hour earlier.

the air is thick in your room, steam from the hot water creeping through as Joel inhales the weed, ember lighting up your eyes in his. you leave the joint between his parted lips, opting to strip down as you walk towards the shower, hoping Joel had the mind to watch as you go.

your heart thuds in arousal and excitement when you hear his sharp exhale, still refusing to turn around as you leave the door slightly open once again. you and your innocent habit of leaving the bathroom door open when you shower.

you're relieved there's some fog over the glass door of the shower, but you take your time cleansing your hair, running soap over your face and then slowly, slowly lathering up your skin.

you can feel him watch the entire time.

his eyes are like a hawk's; you can see his shadow through the light of the bathroom, the ember of your joint glowing occasionally as your hands run over the wet planes of your skin.

your shaky fingers cascade down, over the skin of your stomach, lower until they just barely graze where you ache. it's like he's been waiting for you to finally start to touch yourself; just as your fingers find your slit, the amber of the joint is tamped, ashed on the windowsill.

you hum lowly as your fingers swirl through your velvet folds, so wet you're dripping onto your upper thighs as your head thumps against the wall.

"Joel," you let yourself whimper, eyes fluttering shut before opening again languidly.

Joel's footsteps are gentle as he slowly strides up to you; he lasted, admittedly, longer than you through this torturous game. through the glass, you see his tall frame and your legs quiver with desire - your aching cunt throbs as you move your hand over yourself, rinsing off the rest of the suds from your clean body as your fingers tease your bundle of nerves. your hips jolt; a choked moan from you as you slide the glass open slightly, cocking your head - "it's a shame you already showered," you mutter, fingers not ceasing as Joel's eyes rake over your naked for ravenously.

he leans on the doorframe to the bathroom, eyes stern as he takes in your silhouette through the fogged glass, slowly rolling over the curves of your body to meet your eyes with flames alit in his own.

"-it'd be nice to have some help." you shrug, gesturing to the bar of soap in your spare hand, eyes swimming with desire as your other hand continues the slow, torturous movements on your aching clit.

your eyes catch on his crotch; through the jeans, his cock is hard and straining already as if being stirred by just the sight of you, naked and whimpering for him in your shower.

"I know you've always liked a show, though, haven't you?" you tease, lifting a brow as you recall the night Joel'd first seen you shower.

his jaw ticks at your words but it's like something in his snaps; he wastes little time ripping his shirt off, his patience clearly gone as you bite your lip, stepping back for him as his jeans finally slide off.

his glowing, naked form crowds into your own as he slides into the shower with you. his eyes are sharp as his hand takes the soap from you; yet instead of running it over your skin like you'd hoped he would, he's tossing it to the side until it hits the wall of the shower and splinters into two.

you gasp slightly as his hand grips your neck, tugging you close. his cock is hard, tip glistening with beads of precum already as he presses to your lower stomach, his body glued to yours; his nose slides along the plane of your collarbone gently, the shower water pelting rolling off your meshed bodies like some sort of sick baptism.

"you smell clean, darlin'," he mutters against your kin, one hand sliding up to your scalp, threading through your hair. his tongue peeks out to lick a stripe up your throat. "taste clean, too-"

his hand tightens suddenly, tugging your hair until your head snaps up to him - his eyes are dark, face full of desire. "so why're you pretending you need my help?"

the condescension in his voice is intoxicating - your legs weaken, hands sliding up onto his hot skin under the water that cascades over him.

your throat dries as you swallow, eyes wide as a rush of arousal threatens to drip down onto your bare thighs.

his head tilts, "s'because you want to put on a show, 's that it?" he asks, voice condescendingly sweet as he once again tightens his grip. you whimper at the sweet feeling, nodding slightly.

he smiles against your neck before pulling away, "fine. you can give me a show. get on your knees." he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. your head feels dizzy at the words he says and the sweetness of his kiss; the most delicious juxtaposition.

"a show." he chuckles to himself, shaking his head darkly. "gonna make you a goddamn star."

christ. your cunt squeezes around nothing, aching for him as his hands slide down to your shoulders. you nearly moan as he smirks, water cascading down his broad chest as he pushes you down; you sink to your knees, your wide eyes on his own as you move until you're close to his aching cock.

he stands, towering above you as the shower head sprays directly onto his back; water runs off the broad expanse of his chest and you follow the droplets as they smooth over his stomach, down over the sprinkling of hair that trails to the base of his dick. you swallow, heart thundering impatiently as you sit on your haunches, waiting anxiously for him to tell you what to do.

his brows raise, though, flush high on his cheeks from heat - or arousal - as he hums, "well?"

you blink at him in surprise as he shakes his head down at you, his own hand falling to pump his long cock in languid strokes, the skin so close to you that you can almost feel the heat. if you were to lean out, just a bit, to taste-

"christ, darlin' do I gotta tell you how to do everything?" he grunts, other hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your wet strands of hair as he tuts, "you were practically beggin' f'me earlier, now you're suddenly shy?"

your face blooms in heat, "no, sir, I just-" at your words, his eyes fall back and a groan echoes through your bathroom, "-just suck my cock, darlin' c'mon."

his impatience, desperation sends shivers down your spine and your mouth opens eagerly, tongue flattening as he slaps your tongue gently once, twice-

you're always surprised by the size of Joel - each time, it catches you off guard; the head of his cock breaches your lips and his pre-cum smears over your tongue; the taste of him has you keening forward, eager to feel him in you, filling you up.

"there you go, 's much better." he grunts, muttering as one hand slides around to hold your jaw. your eyes flutter up through your lashes and the falling shower water to stare at him, how big he is towering above you. his cock pushes into your warm mouth and you try your best to breathe through your nose, tongue sliding up the vein which reaches up towards his tip. his groan spurs you on and you gently start to bob your head, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth slowly as your knees press against the wet porcelain.

"you feel better like this, baby?" he mutters, your stomach tingling at his words. you can't nod - can't even make a noise as his hips slowly buck into you; you gag slightly and moan around his cock as it pushes to the back of your throat.

"fuck-" he grunts, one hand leaning forward to place against the wet shower tiles; he's crowding you, now, pressing you into the back of the shower as his body takes the brunt of the water and takes and takes from you.

anything Joel wants, he can fucking have it.

"that's it, sweetheart-" he grunts, "fuckin'- take me."

his hands grip yours, pulling them onto his thighs, muttering gently that if it's too much, you can slap his thigh; you nod, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you keen towards him again, hungry to feel him in your throat again.

your nails dig crescents into the meat of his thighs as he pushes your head right against the wall, fucking into your throat as his head tilts back. "tha's- right, look at you." he grunts, his lips parted as groans fall from his lip. the steam rises like tendrils from hell as you take Joel's length in your mouth, barely able to breathe in the most delicious way as he uses you. your spit trails over your chin and onto your bare chest as you stare up at him. one hand soothes over your forehead, wiping wet strands of hair plastered to your forehead, "you're a fuckin' star, baby."

you heat at his words, stomach swirling as you shift uncomfortably, cunt puffy and aching for relief.

your fingers grip onto him as he takes you in the shower, fucking your throat until you're dripping and aching and a writhing mess, his moans echoing around the empty home.

"water's cold." he grunts, pulling his cock from your lips; you, weakly, chase the heat of him as he leaves your mouth, gasping for air and coughing slightly.

he shuts off the water, suddenly, and you swallow as he turns back to you, eyes significantly softer than they'd just been; "somethin' wrong?" he teases, a dark smirk on his face as his eyes flicker to where your thighs press together to soothe the ache.

you grit your teeth, shaking your head, "jus' want you to touch me, sir." you mutter, face burning at the way Joel never ceases to reduce you to a whimpering mess.

he smiles one of those brilliant, radiant smiles.

"that's all you had to say, darlin'." he shrugs, "told you, if you just learn to ask for it nicely, I'll give it to you."

you shiver as you nod, taking his hand as he pulls you up off your sore knees, wrapping a towel around your form gently. he's so- commanding, yet still somehow keeping his kindness that often hides deep beneath his layers.

you can't tear your eyes away, though - even as Joel starts to walk towards your open bedroom - your hand stops him on his naked shoulder. "will you please fuck me?" you ask, voice stronger than you'd expected it to be.

his eyes flicker with something as he tilts his head, "right here?" he lifts a brow as his hand snaked over your neck to pull you flush against him once again. "y'gonna beg me to fuck you against the sink because you're too desperate for my cock to walk to the bed?" he whispers it into the shell of your ear; a shiver as you whine, eyes blinking up at him, "been waiting all day, Joel, stop fucking teasing me."

you notice your mistake too late; his jaw tenses as he bites down at the junction of your neck - you let out a sharp, whining moan as his teeth mark a love bite bright and center on your skin. "fuck- fuck, s-sorry, sir." you groan, eyes clenching shut in pleasure as his hands push you into the counter.

"bet you're fuckin' sorry." he mutters lowly as he pulls away from you, flipping you quick to bend you over the vanity of the sink. you gasp as the cool wet porcelain hits your breasts, your nipples hard and sensitive as a sharp smack lands on your ass.

"christ," he groans as you bend over, puffy lips soaked and glistening for him, "look at this pretty pussy."

you move your hips slightly and his hands grip onto your waist - "quit that." he snaps, hands resuming their exploring. he grazes over the backs of your thighs, up the expanse of your spine.

over your ass, groping and slapping, relishing in your small moans and sharp gasps. "don't move." he orders.

you sigh, head falling onto the sink as you nearly whimper - you're aching, throbbing as Joel teases you - "Joel," you whimper quietly, voice whiny and small.

"what's wrong, y'tired of being teased?" he asks, voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. your cheeks are hot as you groan, "please, need to feel you inside of me-"

he hums, smacking the flesh of your ass, "'f I don't warm you up you'll be sore, baby-" he tuts, "y'know I gotta get you ready."

"I don't care, I can take it- I like it, just-" you stutter, face heated as you nearly scream in frustration, unable to voice how badly you just want him inside of you.

he likes that - a thumb sliding over your cunt to spread your lips, exposing your pussy and ass to him as he hums. "too fuckin' eager, have to have my cock right now, 's that right?" he shakes his head with a dark smirk, hand teasing over your swollen lips as he nods, "yeah, s'alright, I'll give it to you whenever you ask."

"thank you," you wheeze, letting out a shaky sigh when Joel leans down, spitting directly onto your asshole, thumb sliding over the tight ring as he hums, "so desperate for me, couldn't even wait 'till we get back to town, could you? had to try an' fuck me right there in the woods." he doesn't wait for you to respond as he spits down again, this time the slick spit sliding down onto your seeping cunt. his hand leaves, replacing with the thick, teasing head of his cock.

you gasp, rising on your toes as the blunt tip of his dick spreads your cunt, teasing your clit before notching at your entrance. "gonna fill up every hole tonight, baby, y'gonna let me?"

you let out a whine, "fuck, yes, please." you nod, cunt fluttering around the tip of his cock.

the stretch is painful; you expected it, craved it - you let out an animalistic moan when he slides in a few inches. "oh-" you whimper, legs tensing as Joel kneads the flesh of your ass, pressing his bare chest to your spine as he mouths along the base of your neck, "relax, baby, so fuckin' tight-" he groans as he slides in slowly, "let me in, sweetheart, c'mon-"

a rush of arousal and he's fully seated within you, the sting of his cock in you subsiding as a growing desire mounts until you can't take it. "move- m-move, now, please." you rush, hips pushing back against Joel's impatiently.

"shit," Joel hisses as he pulls out of you slightly - a long, thick drag against your velvety cunt and you groan at the sweet bliss of being filled up. you moan as he thrusts forward, tip hitting the perfect spot that already, as his pace builds, has a simmering coil deep within you.

"thought- thought about it all day," you admit, hands finding purchase on the counter as he starts to fuck into you, your tits sliding as they press against the sink. "on the horse, thought abo-" you moan sharply as his thumb grazes over your asshole, spreading the slick and his spit around the tight ring. "fuck, sir- that feels good." you moan. he groans in response and the words fly from your lips - "you drive me crazy, so big, t-touching me all the time. dream about you filling me up- s-stuffing me full, even out in the woods-"

your words are too much for Joel, apparently, because his hand slaps over your mouth and his voice whispers, "sh-shut the fuck up, darlin', y'needa be quiet or I'm gonna finish before this even starts." he grunts, hips snapping into yours as he picks up the pace.

you whimper at his words, arousal gushing from you and coating his cock in your slick; the wet slapping of your bodies echoing through the bathroom. "fuck-" he drags out the word, fingers sliding over your lips to prod at your mouth, "here- suck, darlin' - there you go, good girl, that's right."

your tongue slides over his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you feel his thumb breach your tight hole; a sudden rush of pleasure runs through you as it hits you - Joel's everywhere. he's filling you completely - his thumb slowly fucks your tight ring of muscle as his cock spears your cunt; his fingers, pressing down on your tongue as you whimper and moan around him.

a groan leaves his full lips; "fuck- look at me." he grunts, hand sliding up your throat to pull your jaw towards your reflection. "look at me, baby-" his fingers slide back into your mouth as your eyes meet the fire in his through the mirror.

"always tell me when you feel like this, 'kay?" he asks, brows stern as he rams his hips into you; his thumb fills you and fucks into you at a slower speed than his cock, sending searing pleasure through your entire body.

your flesh moves at the impact of his hips and you cry out as his cock hits the delicious spot inside you that curls your toes. his thumb slips from your ass and you whimper dejectedly; the full feeling subsiding slightly as his hand grips your tits, pinching your nipple as he hums in your ear. "don't want my pretty little slut feeling so needy all the time, right?" he mutters, nosing at your hair as he fucks into you with no abandon. your fingers clench to the sides of the sink as you let out a strangled, "yes, sir-"

"so if you use your words, I'll give you anything you want." he groans, hand smacking your ass as the other squeezes your jaw. you nod, agreeing with his words though his cock has rendered you nearly speechless. he hums in approval before muttering, "now you're goign to play with your clit until you cum."

you let your eyes roll back at the commanding tone as your hand snakes down to rub tight, blisteringly pleasurable circles over your bundle of nerves.

but it's immediately too much so soon; you're already so close to your orgasm that a jagged gasp falls from your lips, jumping at the feeling.

"no, 's too much," you moan, head falling back as your finger teases your clit, flames of pleasure licking up isnide you.

but Joel smirks, "why're you still doin' it, then?" he teases, cock hitting so deep and bruising that you think you may see stars.

you moan out, "w-wanna cum, wanna make you happy, Joel." you whimper, completely forgetting to call him sir; but you feel his brows furrow as a moan ripples from his lips - "y'makin' me real happy right now, darlin', look at you. fucked out on this old man's cock, doin' whatever I say, desperate and willing. you're perfect, aren't you?"

you shiver in pleasure at his praise, fingers shaking as you rub your clit, trying so hard not to ruin your orgasm by cumming too soon. his cock spears into you at a pace that will certainly bruise your hips; your breath is punched out of you, your gasps and moans painting the air.

"say it, baby." he orders, hand stroking your breast a staunch contradiction to his brutal pace. "tell me how perfect you are for me."

you wail, head falling back onto his broad, thick shoulder as he runs his mouth over your shoulder, nipping as he goes. you're out of breath - "p-perfect, I'm perfect for you Joel, fuck, don't stop. so good, so good-" you mumble, fucked out after only a few minutes.

he hums, nodding into you. "taught you well, didn't I? you're my perfect little star."

you nod, "yes, sir, thank you-" you squeal in pleasure as he strokes long and slow, pushing you nearly to the brink as your legs shake. you can't take it, though - your fingers stop their ministrations, shaking and burning as you pull away from your clit, so close from just his cock and-

a slap to your cheek as Joel's lips bite into your jaw, "put your fuckin' hand back right now. you don't stop 'till I tell you to."

you swallow shakily, shaking your head, "I can't- it's too much, I can't-"

"fine." he snaps, slapping your cheek again before one hand slips to grip hard at your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up onto the sink; his other hand snakes down to pinch your tortured clit and you scream as he grunts in your ear, "I'll do it myself."

he's unforgiving on your quivering cunt, barely able to stay upright as he pushes you down, your cheeks pressing to the cool counter as he pounds down into you, shooting you into a hurtling race towards your orgasm.

he brutally fucks into you in a blinding pace. you nearly scream as white-hot pleasure rips through you, your hands falling to the counter as he coaxes a mind-bending orgasm from you. you see white as you cum, pulsing and writhing over his cock as it spears into you, splitting you open.

"that's it, baby-" he lets out a loud moan, biting into your neck as he continues the brutal pace, "jesus- s'fucking tight, baby, can barely move-" his hands fall to your hips, using you as a fuck toy to finish himself off; you're still writhing with the ecstasy of the orgasm, relishing in the way his hands hold you.

"where're you gonna take me, baby?" he grunts, voice strained: he's so close.

you scramble, holding his hips as you nearly pass out - pleasure too much. "cum on my ass, please sir." you mutter, heat licking up your throat as the words come out.

he moans and pulls out of you suddenly, hand flying from your skin to his cock, a slick noise as he quickly tugs himself until hot spurts of his cum paint the skin of your ass. "pretty girl," he grunts to himself, "an' you're all mine."

you hum, moaning quietly as his thumb soothes over your skin, spreading his cum over your ass and pressing it slightly against your ass. your cunt flutters in arousal at the action and he hums, "y'like that, don't you, pretty girl?"

you nod as you let out a shaky sigh and he presses a kiss to your spine, "good." it's a whisper on your skin, a promise.

he's barely grabbed a towel to wipe his cum off your skin before you're turned around on jelly legs - his strong arms pull you in so fast you barely have a second to straighten out - he's nuzzling into your wet hair in a way that has your heart thumping and your throat dry.

his heart beats against your cheek, body warm, chest heaving along with yours.

heat, affection - they swirl in your chest as his bare body cradles yours. intimately.

your sweet skin is sticky with sweat when Joel comes to, out of the bliss of his and your orgasms.

he's just as sweaty as you, though the clean skin and foggy mirror have started to clear up. Joel nearly huffs a short laugh at the thought of taking yet another shower - christ knows the two of you are once again filthy - but he kind of likes it, in a way. a secret.

he brushes it off when he feels your fingers curl around his arm; he had barely noticed that he'd tugged you upright and right into his chest, holding you as tight as he could. for some reason, his mind reaches back to earlier in the evening, when he'd heard that branch - the fear, the panic that'd risen in him. he's not sure why, or at least, he won't think about it. you hadn't mentioned it, but he'd seen your hands shake and your eyes cloud with fear.

something for another time, because he has you warm and pliant and naked in his arms. he barely noticed how his lips press at your hairline; it's just... well, feels natural.

like you both need it.

"stay here, please." you ask meekly, quietly. the first words spoken in a minute; you're swallowing around the nerves and anxiety that crawl in your chest, he can tell. he feels them, too.

he's taken aback as he stares at you - you both have patrol again in the morning, is it not... aren't you going to get tired of him?

won't you find him annoying, or gross in the morning when he inevitably pulls you closer in his sleep, when the dreams are too real and he shoots up in bed?

the panic subsides as he stares into your warm eyes, hopeful, bashful. he smiles gently, biting through the smile in embarrassment at how willing he is to stay. he'd stay forever if you asked.

Joel nods through his surprise, though, his body and heart and head aching to lie with you once again, to feel the calmest sleep he's had in years.

"course, darlin', I'll..." he pulls you in closer, so he doesn't have to look at those damn eyes when he finally admits it -

"I'll stay as long as you want."

feedback welcome as always :') <3

#let's chat abt mr miller #joel tlou smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #the last of us (tv)#the last of us smut #pedro pascal smut

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mirnilop · 8 months

Text

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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bomber-grl · 6 months

Text

Damian Wayne relationship head-canons ♡

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Gn!reader (no specific pronouns)

I’m sure we’re all aware of how cold and indifferent Damian usually is

So he was definitely… something when you two first met

Ofc he begins to soften up and w/o being cringe, he’s definitely a tsundere

Like he feels love towards you but he refuses to admit it at times

Now, many people around you definitely were surprised when the two of you guys got together

No one expected Damian to actually love someone

Like???

Anyway

He’s not really into PDA

I’m sure we would’ve all came to the conclusion of this

He’s not very physically affectionate, at least not when he’s in the right state of mind

You see,

Giving Dhar Mann

He’s always on guard

Even with you

Sure, he loves and cares about you but he can’t help but have some sort of guard up

However, when you see sleepy Damian and try helping him into his room, he began spouting nonsense and cuddling into you

You were surprised by this but also the fact that Damian even let his guard down so much??

You totally mention it the morning after 😇

Anyway

You think Damian is a huge annoyance?

Yea well he becomes even more annoying after you begin dating

He’s just a silly little guy 🤷‍♀️

But yea, you think he’s a know it all now? 100x worse after

Poor you, man

Bro won’t even shut up until I threaten to reveal sum u heard him say during the time he was sleepy

Even then he threatens you and advises you keep your lights on at night 😔

Aside from him being a significant annoyance and being very aggressive, he’s also really sweet

It honestly surprised you since he was raised to be an assassin and is pretty emotionally constipated

He’s always gifting you stuff

They’re usually small stuff in the moment

Like little notes, origami, and just little candies or snacks that he has

If you mention how “cute” it is he‘lol ignore you for the rest of the week

But yea, and bro is rich too

So best believe he’ll be like those grandparents that but a shit ton of whatever you said you liked 5 years ago

You like hot Cheetos? Best believe he’ll buy them for you and throw them at your head then walk away

You’re like??? I told you I liked them last year and you’re still buying them for me?

Plus, as I said, he rich rich

So he probs buys u rich people shit

Idk what examples, I’m poor

So 😍😍 am I right?

And here you are with your lil notes and origami roses

Like damn

He claims he likes them but still

U gotta get rich bestie

Pretty much it

Honestly considering he’s a billionaire Bruce Wayne’s son, ima go ahead and guess theres a bunch of paparazzi and it’s all over headlines of your relationship once it’s revealed (by u or on accident)

And there’s obviously different reactions from different crowds

There’s fans who are upset that you “stole” their “man”

And then there’s the rest who don’t rlly care but are shocked depending on who you are and just cuz Damian never expressed interest in romance

You just love getting dragged online 😍

But he’s not their man he’s yours sooo🤭🤭

Extra- when you announced your relationship Tim rlly doubted it’s legitimacy

——————————————————————————

Authors note: hope u liked :))

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

Right Person,

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: There are few things more heartbreaking than realizing the bitter truth. He was going to be absolutely extraordinary.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Heavy angst, blood & gore, descriptions of injuries, canon typical, hurt/(no) comfort, major character death

A/N: This was a request, but I just realized the account was deactivated - sooo, I can only apologize to everyone for this lmfao.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You met him when the blood had already stained right through your uniform, flesh going crusty with dried crimson and adhered gore. The skin visible had become a mosaic of horror, and the long fog over your eyes only spoke fractions of what you had seen in the long hours you were administering what little help you could. Soldiers of all colors and backgrounds who, no matter what you happen to do, were never making it in the first place.

Spilled guts—missing legs and arms. And you were stupid. Hopelessly, foolishly, stupid for wishing they would be able to pull through.

How many times have you seen the exact same thing? Scores. How many times had the patient come back? Barely ever.

You had been the only one still awake when he had come into the medical tent, and even then you had been giving doses of dwindling morphine and checking bandages.

“Broken shoulder,” your lips had murmured numbly, jotting down notes onto the clipboard in your hand. The motionless man in the cot below you was barely even breathing, a shiver-inducing jump in his chest was the only indication of life. “Shattered clavicle and internal bleeding of the abdomen from a knife wound.”

You registered the shifting of feet near the entrance, but the lives bleeding away in front of you were far more important. There was only so much you could do with limited supplies and fellow medics that were more tired than dogs after a race. It had been days of recurring assault on camp and you weren't sure how many more people you could lose before reinforcements decided to show up.

A throat awkwardly clears and snaps you from your scribbles of desperately needed medical materials on the top of the patient report page. You blink down at the list with a stiff swallow of saliva and quivering fingers.

That…that wasn’t supposed to be written there.

Shaking your head, you put your pen into one of your vests’ many pockets before moving back towards the entrance, walking the aisle between rows of cots all occupied by the men and women in the worst condition.

“I don’t have painkillers or extra bandages to spare.” Your voice is scratchy and laced with slightly discernible unease. “If it’s not life-threatening, I can’t help beyond stitches and washing out the wound.”

Passing a large shadow that looms in the entrance, you shuffle to your desk and toss the clipboard down to your desk of metal and strewn papers. An empty coffee cup filled with syringe needles that you have yet to discard safely. Unclipping the past patient's file, you send it into the right stack only to take another from the left and set it in place.

Taking only a moment to stare down at it, you place your hands on the desk and lick your lips, breathing shallowly.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, Ma’am.” Scottish—you’d heard one barking orders on the radio over the course of the attacks; leading Marines and planting detonations on vehicles as you had run from one body to another in the background.

Even covered you once.

You remember a hand on your arm and a flash of blue eyes—a mere glance of a look before you had spotted a woman with her entire left shoulder missing from a sniper round. You’d darted off without a second thought as to the brilliant shade of blue and the concern that had lived blatantly in the dilated pupils.

The cross patch on your shoulder felt heavier that day, and every day after, but at least when you wore it you didn’t have to look at it.

You blink back to the present and turn your head slightly to the side.

He was standing a few feet into the tent, holding something in his large hands that you glance at before your gaze slides to his face. Strong jaw, an arching scar over the chin, and a brunette mohawk to go along with the stubble of his lower face. Deep-set brows that inlay with blue.

The same Scot, then.

He seems to shuffle on his feet when you stare at him in tired confusion, not spotting any injuries that would need your attention along the built form of his body. An awkward laugh pierces your heart.

“Ya missed supper,” the man starts, holding up his hand to show you the twin bags of rations he holds nonchalantly. “Had a hunch you might need it, don’t wanna be up and about without a filled stomach, aye? Far past dark, now, y’know.” A pause. “No one’s seen you for hours, Ma’am. Thought I’d check up.”

You slowly bring a hand to your nose bridge and sigh deeply, feeling the digging eyes stuck on you as they crease. Standing straight, the words exit sullenly as your gut twists.

Dark already? No, I could have sworn it was only one o'clock…Has that much time really passed?

“No time, you can have them.” Grabbing your clipboard, you rub at your neck before trying to force back your increasingly heavy limbs.

“I really think you should eat.” Someone whimpers from down the right row, and your head immediately perks in that direction—feet just beginning to carry you over when fingers hook around your upper arm. As still as stone, yet in no way digging into you.

Your head snaps up in shock.

There’s a moment of complete stillness when you're brought back to the familiar instance from days prior, staring up into bright cerulean like sapphires. You don’t know why, but as you focus on this Scot, your shoulders lose some of their tension; lungs find the refreshment of air a bit easier.

It wasn’t a hard face to look into—not covered with blood like yours or your patients’ visages, either. That at least was a blessing. A kind face.

“You dinnae look healthy, Ma’am. Please.” He levels a stare, large head tilted in sincerity with a bare-bones smile forced to his lips causing his scar to shift. You watch it mutely. His hand was warm, so much like a weighted blanket it nearly left your lashes fluttering. “Just a few wee bites is all I’m askin’.”

“I…” you trail, voice gradually seeping out its sure-fire tone and confidence to leave behind a meek resemblance. Glancing at the men and women in your care, your expression tightens. “I can’t be gone long.”

“Ten minutes.” Sighing, you allow the Scot to lightly drag you outside, holding open the fabric that serves as an entrance door before the fingers over your bicep go to rest on the small of your back.

You had yet to notice, but you hadn’t even asked the man his name.

“Here,” handing you one of the two ration packs, you carefully grab the brown object, peeking inside to spy some concoction of mush. Potatoes and veggies, maybe? A small laugh echoes from the man beside you and you turn to look.

It had been a while since you’d heard someone laugh. Your feet almost give out under you from the sound—a deep rumble of thunder. You’re met with a quirk of a lip, though your own face stays in a state stuck between shell shock and panic.

“I’d say it tastes better, Bonnie, but I’d jus’ be lyin’ to ya.”

“It's alright,” you mutter in retaliation, shaking your head before grabbing the plastic utensil sticking out of the goop. But at the moment you can’t seem to force your appetite to you, though your stomach groans to fill it with sustenance.

The both of you don’t walk far—only a few feet to a small rocky area where you sit a respectful distance away and rest your backs on the stone.

You listen to the brunette eat, ravenous, as though a wild boar was only a hand’s reach to your right. Everyone in camp was hungry. So why can’t you just eat? With your legs crossed, you look down at the portion in your lap with roving eyes.

It was all so far removed. The only thing you knew for certain was that there was blood on your hands; staining your clothes and in your hair. Even the chill of the moon didn’t stop the heat at the back of your neck, though if anyone asked you would say you were as cold as snow.

“You know,” the stocky man speaks, and your ears twitch at the sound, “I don’t think I remember what it is they all call you. Price mentioned your file, but I only had time to give it a glance over.”

You tell him and send a small smile over. It doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Ah, that’s it. Bonnie name for a Bonnie girl.” A hand meets your field of view. “Sergeant MacTavish. Soap or Johnny’s just fine as well—m’not picky, least when I know ya.”

Shaking Soap’s hand was a sullen affair. You were sure he could feel your pulse racing; how your fingers shook but for whatever reason the Scot chose not to mention it. On the other hand, simply having the option to feel living skin was a blessing.

“Price spoke of me?” Murmuring, you let your hand go back to your lap, watching the best you can as Soap sends you soft looks as if he knew talking made your throat swell up. “Haven’t seen the man in years.”

“Hm,” the Scot nodded his head, taking the last bite out of his food before folding up the package. “Said there’s not a better medic I’d want along. Figured I should take the Old Man’s word for it.” A sly look is sent your way.

Body pausing, you say nothing as your lips thin, letting a small silence settle before shifting.

Don’t feel like a good medic.

Soap stares at you, watching with increasingly tightening shoulders. He speaks lowly, “Not gonna eat, then, are you?”

A head is shaking before you can stop it, “Not hungry.” You thought you could do this, but all you can think about is the soldiers you had to mark down as KIA; the staggering number that grows and will continue to grow.

It was utter helplessness. A sense of failure in not only your job but in your humanity. Was this not your purpose? To save lives? Why…why couldn’t you?

“It’s not your fault, Hen, you know that…right?” Your breath stills as Soap’s brows pull in, though he already knew the answer to his question. A blind man could see it; his hands twitch in his lap at your numbed expression. “You’re doin’ more than anyone would have expected of ya. Most of the others here owe you their lives, Bonnie.”

Perhaps it was the way your scowl grew at that, or how Soap’s own comradery was taking a hit, but his chest ached at your swift denial of your own skill. He’d seen you work—he knew that if you weren’t here scores more would be in body bags right now. The Scot swallowed and bit at his lip as you spoke.

“Tell that to the stack of deaths that I have to record.” Blue eyes look to the ground for a moment with a clenched jaw. “Doesn’t seem like I’m doing much of anything.”

The night chill wraps around them both like a storm, neither knowing what to say and not wanting to perpetuate the electricity in the air. You take down air through your nostrils as Soap grunts, messing with his hands in his lap mutely. But the utter aloneness is clawing at your throat, and even with this brief interaction, you know the Scot would never force you to speak to him about all of it.

You glare at the ration pack strangled in your grip.

“Three more are going to die by tomorrow. We don’t have the resources.” Johnny brings a hand to his head, running it over the locks before nodding stiffly. But no one can see his heart drop.

“Who?” The words are almost lost in the breeze.

“Silas, Kara, and Edward.” Soap sucks down a long breath as you stare off into the tree line, feeling the hard rock up your spine as you slightly hunch over. “I…I don’t have enough materials to treat them all if we’re stuck here any longer…”

Your trail, but the insinuation is enough. Johnny’s jaw clenches.

“What do you think we should do?” The question isn’t malicious, but rather a genuine inquiry and a plea for an opinion. “If we leave, they’ll pick us off one by one—sure as all Hell.”

“You want the truth,” you speak slowly, seeing a bird dance in the sky to catch bugs in its tiny beak; twirling like a dancer of silver light and sharp wings. Soap grunts an affirmation. “Run.”

Eyes widened.

“...Run? Steamin’ Jesus, run where? It’s all mountains and open fields.” You shrug, shifting your hand to stare at the dried blood in the lines of your palms. It comes out in a low murmur.

“Anywhere—everywhere. Getting taken out one by one for a purpose is better than dying here for nothing.” Soap sees the look with increasing concern, hand itching at the back of his neck in a soothing motion.

“What about the wounded, Hen?” He asks you, and just as numbly, you respond after a burning starts in the back of your eyes. “We can’t leave ‘em ‘ere.”

“They’re all going to die.” Air goes still. “All of them have already gone too long without proper care. Infections are rampant.” You shake now, staring down at your hand with horror; you had always known the truth. Tried to run from it like a fool. “Internal pooling of blood. Failing organs. Necrosis. I’m not good enough too…”

Life was cruel.

“I’m just not good enough.” Your lips waivered, nose burning with smoke as your cheeks go hot with self-hatred. It wasn’t fair.

Johnny was moving before he truly knew what he could do to help, shuffling closer and grabbing at your hand. His grip totally encompassed yours, covering the blood and the sullied flesh from view.

“Hey, now,” he begins, mouth opening and closing as if not sure what to say. He can’t attest to watching over patients and seeing them all die one by one—sure he’d seen fellow soldiers fall, die slow deaths, but never had he had a wealth of skill to know exactly how to help and then see it fail. Johnny’s face pulled tight at the thought; it was horrible the things you’d had to do these last few days. “None ‘O that, ya hear?”

You feel tears dribble down your chin, pitter-pattering into the ration pack as your nose sniffles; turning to stare pathetically into Soap’s brilliant blues. At the feeling of his firm and grounding grip, the world seems to slowly come back into focus—you listen to the pulse that sings under his epidermis like it’s a lifeline.

“I can’t help them—”

“I think what you need is a bit of a rest, yeah?” Johnny smiles lightly, thumb running back and forth over your knuckles, fingers massaging your pulse point. Your eyes go buggy, arm twitching. The Sergeant lets his tone fall, covering his words with sickly care. “Let me get all that off your little face first, though. Can’t have all that covering up your skin—you’ll get sick from somethin’ no doubt.”

As your mouth quivers when it opens itself, whatever sentence you were going to say was halted when Johnny reached for the water bottle held in its pack from the strap on his belt. An already stained rag follows after, and before you can process what’s happening, a damp cloth is swiping at the swell of your cheeks.

Your skin heats, lips close, as your pulse spikes.

Soap looks incredibly focused, taking delicate swipes like a feather along the bridge of your nose as tears continue to slip past your ducts in gross betrayal. But the rag is just as quick to catch them and soft-set eyes to send you a glance. His free hand rubs circles into your shoulder, and you shiver in retaliation.

That…that feels good.

“How we doin’ then?” The Scot’s gentle care was a surprise to you; for such a man as gruff looking as him, you’d expect a comment to suck it up more than this. Johnny pauses his cleaning, face so close you can feel his breath drying the dampness of your skin. His dark brows crease. “You alright, Little Lady?”

“...I’m okay.” It’s a reflex to say it, but the Sergeant knows better.

“No, you’re not.” A tiny smile leaves you shaking again. “Talk to me. It’s just us.” Soap glances to the treeline, trying a hand at a teasing inflection. “Well, and the damned wild beasts.”

A small flex of your mouth’s corner was all he got, but any expression at all beyond agony was a step in the right direction. The Scots blinks quickly, clearing his throat and going back to wipe away the speckles on your forehead. His other hand gravitates to your chin, carefully tilting it as if you were made of glass.

Your eyes flutter shut with a sigh making its way through your nose; gathering what little semblance of yourself you can between repeating memories and the scent of charcoal from the man ahead of you. Fire and dust.

“Are we going to die here?” You ask under your breath, and the sensation of Soap’s swipes stop in an instant. In your inky blackness, the question haunts you.

The Scot gapes at you, wide eyes showing bitter whites around the rim—for once in his life, there was the sensation of a knife sinking into his heart.

“I…” He stutters, only able to respond when he’d swallowed down saliva and stared off into the trees for a moment; desperate to calm down his brain as defiance seeps in. You shouldn’t have to ask questions like that. “No, Bonnie,” Soap states so firmly that he sees your lids peel back upwards, a flash of your color showing only for him. It steels his resolve. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m making sure every single man left is makin’ it home. ‘Specially you, yeah?”

You stare, and Johnny lowers the rag, hooking his finger on your opposite cheek and turning you fully to him. The heat under your skin makes him want to bring you even closer, but he refrains. A look is leveled, accompanied by a hard stare. Entranced by your gaze as one would be the moon. “We’re getting out of this—alright?”

“You can’t promise that, Johnny.” It’s a whisper.

“You can bet your arse I can!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but the stress is throat constricting as he says your name, “...I’m getting you home, understand? That’s about as close to a fuckin’ promise as anyone can get. Don’t be talking like that!”

But you only watch with dull hope, a comforting smile pulling at your lips for him. Desperation grows.

In your mind, you knew the bitter truth, but there was something you wanted to confide in him—a sensation of utter surety at the extraordinary man touching you; comforting you.

“You’ll be a great Captain one day, y’know that?” You say the sentence like you won’t be there to witness it, and you know you won't. He knows it too. That bitter, bitter, truth.

“And you can bet your bastard self will be at the after-party, aye?” He doesn’t leave room for doubt verbally, though his jaw is tense and his heart hurting. “Won’t have it any other way.”

A hum echoes.

“Do me a favor?” Johnny is nodding immediately.

“Anything.” The look makes him want to cry—so quickly forming a bond with you and your sad eyes.

“Don’t forget me?”

You’re being corralled into a tight hug before you have an answer, hand going to sit at the back of your head with fierce force. But no more words were exchanged that night; no denials or hopeful sentiments.

But worse than that was the fact that you could have been extraordinary together, had only the Gods come down and linked your fates. If only the sky had fallen and the time stalled in that clearing of old rocks and rations. Blood-stained rags and whispered promises that hold no iron. A brief brushing of souls that had instantaneously yielded to one another only to fall back apart. Wrong time.

You were shot dead the next day.

TAGS:

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ambrosiagoldfish · 3 months

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First time requesting anything sooo let me know if I get anything wrong but,,, could I request some dragon!reader x Venti (Genshin Impact) fluff ? Dragon in like... The way that Zhongli is with a dragon and a humanoid form. let me know if I should send another ask with anything additional,,

Draconic Inquiries

Venti x Dragon! Reader

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and Gn! Reader!

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1634

A/N: Hi, thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took so long! There was a lot of hiccups that came up this past week, but I’m happy to finally have had gotten to finishing this!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a Fluff Fic or head-canons so I did both! I would have asked you but I was already upset that it took this long to write, so I decided not to! I also wrote it to be romantic! I hope this is ok! If not, just shoot me another request and I’ll make you a new one!!

Proofread but of course I could have missed something.

He was first introduced to you via The Traveler, and right away he could tell something about you reminded him a lot of that "old block-head" as Venti so eloquently puts it. Of course, you weren’t anything like Zhongli, but there were some very similar aspects between the two of you at a more biological level.

It didn't take him long to figure it out though, despite his carefree and lovable nature, he is quite perceptive. He could tell from the power imitating from you, that you weren't some regular run of the mill Allogene. The power that you gave off wasn't exactly like his or even most of the other archons it was more… Pure? Something more undisturbed than most elemental beings.

Whatever you were, he wasn't sure if you were open about it, Him, being an Archon, would make him relate to you regarding hiding the truth about yourself, if that is the case. So he decided to ask you about it alone. You were a bit hesitant at first to outright admit it, especially to a person who seemed so interested. Being an Elemental beast, were able to sense an alarming amount of Anemo Energy coming from this short drunkard bard, way too much to just be some regular mortal.

When you finally reveal yourself to be a dragon, he's honestly pretty excited. He's only ever met 4 dragons in his 2600+ year life span, Zhongli, who was just annoyed by any questions he would ask, Dvalin, who, despite being one of his closest friends, is also annoyed by many of his drunken inquiries. Durin and Ursa the Drake tried destroying Mondstadt so they were definitely not an option... So he's been dying to ask a vishap some questions.

And Immediately they started

"Dragon's have hoards, right? Surely there has to be a teensy bit of fine wine there? No? Darn it..."

"Can you breathe fire?!"

"Is it true that dragon's are scared of mice? Eh... Wait! no! That's Elephants. Nevermind!"

It was quite a lot to process and answer them all in time before he went on to the next question. Eventually he seemed to run out of them, that or he saw how distressed you were trying to keep up.

"That's enough questions for today, Ehe! Next time we should have our conversation over a nice cold glass of cider!"

"Next time?"

Venti then, from that day forward, had the two of you meeting up more and more, He would bring the drinks, both Alcoholic and Non-Alcoholic, depending on if you drink or not. and every time, Venti would somehow come up with more and more questions about your heritage, nonstop rambling of questions that would go from dusk till dawn. He seemed to never run out of them. But eventually he would start asking questions that weren't about your Draconic lifestyle. Things like,

"So Y/n, have you ever dated anyone before?"

"Hey Yn! Have you heard that the Windblume Festival is coming soon? Ehe, What do you think the original windblume was? Cecilia? Great choice!"

"Have you ever been to Windrise? It's the place with the huge tree! Huh? eh, You haven't? I'll make sure to show you sometime"

The Windblume festival finally comes around, the whole of Mondstadt was in a fury of unending joy, there were games, foods and deserts, the entire of the city’s buildings were all decorated in many different flowers and ribbons. Dandelions soared through the air, each one carrying the wish of a soul in Mondstadt.

The Day was fantastic, but it seems Venti had more energy to spend after the day's festivities, Venti drags you by the hand through the decorated city streets, past the vendor's shops, and over the bridge, all while you were blindfolded. Of course, you were a little scared being led through all these places without even knowing where exactly you were, but your elemental sense was top notch, not to mention your regular senses at that. So you knew you weren't in any real danger.

"Venti, this is a bit dramatic, even for you"

"Eh he… very funny Y/n, but we're almost there! Just a few more steps and... There!"

The pulling of your hand suddenly stops and Venti’s hand lets go of yours, with one quick motion the blindfold obscuring your eyes was snatched clean off. It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the sun beginning to set but even then being blindfolded caused even the slightest of light to sting your eyes.

Looking up, a big tree hung over you both, lying under the tree, just by the roots, was a checkered red and white blanket layed across the viridescent grass, a seemingly warnout picnic basket layed atop it. From where you stood you could make out a plethora of food and drinks, Pie, Dandelion wine, Apples. You certainly knew there was more, you could tell just from your sense of smell.

But the most notable feature about the fairytale esq scene in front of you was Venti, holding something, a bouquet of Ceclia’s

"These are what you believe to be the original Windblume right? I picked them myself so, rest assured! They’re guaranteed to be the best of quality, ehe!"

"Y/n, the time we’ve spent together these past few months have meant the world to me... Since the moment you arrived in Mondstadt, you’ve been tangled up in every thought of my mind, you've become all I can think about, my one and only worry, my muse, my... everything... What I'm trying to say is, Y/n, I love you and if you feel the same, could you continue being my muse?" His arms stretch slightly to you, offering you the bouquet in his hand.

Everything about this, the scenery, the way he asked, down to the golden hour from the sun, it was all so unforgettable. Your hands slowly move to grasp the Cecilia’s, bringing them up to your face and smelling them.

“Nothing would make me happier, Venti”

Venti’s eyes lit up, blush washed his face as a soft breeze quickly caried him over to you as he practically tackled you into his embrace, the sudden forces causes you both to spin in each others arms, all while Venti’s heartfelt laugh drowns out all other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” His voice grew louder with the repetition as a gleeful smile plastered on his face. He reaches back from his embrace, quickly grabbing his lyre and giving it a few test strums.

“The day isn’t over yet! Allow me to serenade you with a song I’ve made especially for you, my muse.”

And with that, you both continued to laugh and sing throughout the night. The sounds of the feverish festivities of you both echoed through Windrise, your love that would last for eons to come, dancing across the wind.

You both truly, couldn’t be happier.

HEADCANONS

Venti always makes sure that he’s always there for you when you aren’t your best mentally or physically. He cudddles you when your sad, listens to you when you’re upset. Overall he may be a loud bard but he’s also a great listener!

And speaking of cuddles he LOVES them. Since youre a dragon, your body temperature is a lot higher than humans, so he loves the warmth close to him. And if you ever decide to cuddle while IN dragon form then he wouldn’t let you leave for a while. (I also headcanon that since he’s a wind spirit, his body temperature isn’t that high so he’s often a little cold, so an S/o with a high body temperature would be perfect for him)

Regardless of if you can fly or not in dragon form, he loves to go on walks with you, and by “walks” I mean YOU do the walking and he just sits on your back. If you CAN fly than he’d be less of a koala and actually fly with you.

(You may have scared a few of the locals but love is love)

If there’s ever a time that you have to fight, either to protect him, yourself or something else, he will always have your back. Of course, him being a Wind Spirit and an Archon he has at least some power but after losing his Gnosis and him being demoted to the least powerful archon, he’s not incredibly strong. But you being a dragon seems to make up for his lack of power. The times you’ve saved him from some lowly fatuus trying to ambush him, he really couldn’t be more thankful.

He’s really into PDA (no surprise there) so kisses, handholding, etc are all commonplace. He's also always bringing you gifts like food. He’s not much of a baker, but he’d try to make anything for you that you’d want. (Just uh… don’t expect it to be anything spectacular)

Gifts he likes are Cider (obvi) and of course, Apples! You’d get him the finest of wines, (that’s totally not from your dragon hoard, because you are TOTALLY not that kind of dragon •-•^) and he would love them more each time.

He would eventually introduce you to Dvailn (it’s his best bud so it’s a given you’d meet him eventually) and Zhongli who he thought you two might have something in common with.

Overall, having a dragon S/o is one of the best things to happen to him (Tied only with that time Diluc accidentally left his wine cellar unlocked) He’s always wanting to learn more about you and loves spending time with you!

#x reader #x male reader #character x male reader #fanfic #character x reader #x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #venti x dragon reader #genshin venti #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #genshin impact x you #requests open

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