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amaranthineghost · 2 months

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BUT I LOVE YOU SO (PLEASE LET ME GO) ( lando norris. )

he loved her, but knew he had to let her go even if it killed him inside. still he left a paper trail back to him.

warnings: heavy angst I suppose

authors note: wrote this with 2 am motivation. it was about time I finally gave you guys some writing after a couple of months of an absence (I sincerely apologize). I was thinking of making this one of the parts of the mini series because it sort of fits what I want to do with it, but i figured since i hadn't put anything out in a while, it'd be its own separate thing <3

part 2 found here

HE LOVED HER with every fiber of his being. every cell in his body lived for her, he told himself. the blood that ran through his veins underneath his tan skin, all the way to his heart that he had so carefully carved to be able to beat for her. she was the center of his life, he thought.

he really thought.

because now, as he sat and watched her through the fingers over his face to hide the incoming tears, he wished he knew what he should've done. because he only knew what to do.

to let her go.

surely, it wasn't easy, it was never going to be. but alas it was inevitable for the lovers to part though at the time, they wished for it to be only shortly. but they were never coming back. they didn't want to believe, but their hearts knew.

it was a long time coming, but nothing could've prepared them for the heartbreak they forced upon themselves. it was like running blindly into the brick wall they had built together.

they didn't ever fight though. that was the one thing they took pride for their relationship, but now they realize it would've been better for petty arguments. because now, they realize they just don't work.

he was social, she was a homebody. he loved the night life, jumping between different clubs across cities he'd drag her to. of course, at the time she didn't mind being pulled into a club every so often, but it wasn't her scene. the media never was.

he knew that. she knew that it was his.

her hands shook with every folded article of clothing, occasionally wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she tried to avoid his figure altogether.

it wasn't like she didn't want him, in fact she needed him. but the relationship was doomed from the start, she knew yet she didn't care because at the time, everything was tunnel-visioned and he was the light at it's end.

her best moments were the ones lived with him, yet also the worst ones too. but she didn't regret it, it shaped them for their future. one where they knew they couldn't be by each other's side.

they knew heartbreak was looming over them, though the possibility of severing their relationship at any given moment didn't dawn on them till blood was pouring out the wound and there was nothing they could do to stop the bleeding.

they wouldn't try to, they knew better than to patch a wound that would never heal. they let it bleed onto the cold floors of their apartment. the one she had to leave.

nothing had happened in the way they had wanted, but when would it ever if everything was always working against them? it was the world versus them and they lost.

they accepted that defeat.

she tried her best to keep her composure as she packed, for whatever thin thread they held onto would snap if she broke down. because they both knew he couldn't leave her if she did, wouldn't let her go.

because she knew he'd give up his career, his dream, in a heartbeat if it had meant he could still hold her at night. he said forever, and he would make it happen.

it sent her over the edge, reliving their relationship as her fingertips creased memories and packed them into a suitcase, each item of clothing holding significance from their relationship. all from the beginning, she'd kept everything, and that wouldn't change.

she broke. she recognized the textures beneath her fingertips before she could look, her favorite dress. her favorite dress that he bought for her for their anniversary. she knew it was over.

as soon as the choked sobs left her lips, the armchair he sat on creaked as he simply stood and walked to console her. his arms wrapped around her shoulders as the warmth of his chest spread across her back, which did nothing but break her heart more.

she pressed her lips against his skin, though not in an intimate manner, but to hide her struggled cries as the tears down her cheeks began to stain his skin with mascara. she gripped his forearm and bicep tightly, leaning her head further against him.

" 'm sorry," she mumbled against his skin, sniffling as she struggled to catch a breath between sobs. she clenched her eyes shut, seeing dizzying shapes underneath her eyelids. she hoped it would stop the tears.

"shh," he shushed as his lips kissed her hair, muffling his words, "i should be sorry."

still he spoke ever so softly to her as the day they'd met and she couldn't help but fold for his tone of voice every time. even when she knew she shouldn't.

" you have nothing to be sorry for, lan..."

"i should've know the media would be too much for you, love." he mumbled against her hair, "i have everything to be sorry for."

"but i handled it." she peeled his arm from her skin, the streaks of black mascara almost making her lips twitch into a smile as it brought back memories. memories of crying-laughing and smearing mascara onto his arms. still, she held his wrist as she turned to face him, yet she didn't step back.

it'd be the last time they would be this close.

but part of him didn't want her to turn around. he loved when her makeup ran down her face as she cried tears of joy, with the bright sun shining down on her, acting as her personal spotlight, because she was the center of attention, with the wind blowing her hair.

he wished he could see her like that one more time before they left for good. because now he stood, resisting the urge to wipe the tears off her face. because now it wasn't happy, it was sullen. he wanted everything to be able to take care of her, to not let her leave. not yet.

he sighed, he had to give in. he always would, he couldn't help himself when he smudged the running mascara off her face, "fuck, that never works, does it?" he muttered in a soft panic as he realized he just made more of a mess.

she chuckled. she loved whenever he lightened the mood, intentionally or not, it was something she could always count on him to do, "every time, lando, every time." she replied through soft chuckles, sighing as she calmed.

he became serious once again as the smile slowly fell from his face and he wiped the black from his fingers, "but really, did you handle it?" he asked lowly, looking down at her with the same, soft look on his face she could always count on, "i know the media really affected you."

she sighed. there was no denying the exhaustion the media and paparazzi caused. they thought they were fine in the bubble of their apartment, but that bubble had long popped.

"you were born to shine, lando." she simply responded to not give him the truth he was expecting to hear, "that's just not me, we both know it."

"i know." he whispered, biting his lip and looking at her with a gloomy expression. he felt regret and guilt, " 'm sorry."

she shook her head, raising her hand to his jaw to trace the bone under his skin, “i know, but we're both at fault here. we should've known it wouldn't've worked out."

it hurt for them to hear, but it needed to be said, and he would've never said it. it was the truth.

she sniffled, backing away with the realization of how close they had become as she wiped away stray tears and turned back to the half-packed suitcase on the bed they once shared.

he watched her face as her eyes scanned the still heaps of clothing left for her to take, and boxes needing to be filled, "do you want some help?" he offered, his hand grabbing the back of her arm, caressing the skin as she jumped slightly at the contact.

she sighed and said through an awkward chuckle, "please," she reached again for clothes to resume her packing, " 'm afraid i'll change my mind if i stay too much longer."

her words hurt, like daggers slicing through his skin. another wound they couldn't heal.

"would it be that bad?"

his response hurt more. she hadn't meant it like that, but words were subjective. it was like he had taken the knife from beneath his flesh and twisted back into hers.

"no, lan, i didn't mean it like that-" she dropped the shirt she held to place a hand on his bicep, which he shrugged off.

" 'ts fine," he spoke without a tone in his voice, which was odd for him. His focus was on her clothes in his hands and somewhat neatly packed away into one of her many suitcases.

"but i just meant-"

"listen, 'ts fine, we aren't together anymore so we don't have to fix things, or try to."

she squirmed under the dagger as it twisted deeper into her flesh. the air was tense, too silent for her liking and his new attitude threw her off.

it made her realize that maybe there was something more to them that didn't work. because surely any two people who loved each other would make it work out.

it didn't make sense though. maybe it never would.

after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence between them where the only sound was folding of cloth and zipping up certain spots in her suitcase, he turned his back and left the room.

she watched him leave from the corner of her eye, but she didn't stop him. she wanted to though. she wanted so desperately to grab him by the arm and force him to talk to her, but she wouldn't. he was right. they weren't dating.

besides they couldn't even fix what they had before.

minutes later he reemerged with a hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket and another behind his back with something he hid from her. she couldn't get a peak before he slipped it into one of the boxes. she shrugged it off as something she had forgotten.

he returned to helping her fold, but this time with his back towards her. it pained her, she didn't want him to turn his back on her, yet in a couple of hours, she would walk through their apartment door, her back turned to him. it was unfair, she knew.

the tears this time were silent as they streamed down her face, but she didn't make a sound. she watched his actions for a solid five minutes, seeing his best attempts folding her clothes, for her. he was never the best at it, as she had poked fun at him for it in the past. it hurt to think she would never see the difference of neatness in her closet anymore.

her attention was piqued when she saw his movement halt, quickly resuming with a messily put-together hoodie, one she didn't recognize to be hers.

she didn't get to look before he flipped back the top and zipped it up to go with the others.

she didn't have time to wipe the fresh tears from her face when he turned around after pulling the suitcase from the bed. he paused, dropping the handle.

in a swift motion, he pulled her into his chest. she couldn't stop herself from breaking down in his arms, his hand wrapped around her head, the other around her back. they stayed silent, apart from her sobs into his shirt. he didn't care if she ended up staining it.

they swayed for a while, longer than they should've, but at least now she had calmed down. though tears still streaming down her face and a headache forming in her head, they pulled apart slightly.

her hair was messy, her nose, cheeks, eyes and lips were red, her eyes were puffy and tears stained her face, but she was still prettier than ever.

he couldn't help but tuck the hair in front of her face behind her ear, his hand resting on her jaw.

for the last time, they kissed.

to him, it was like he was taking his last breath of air, or gulp of water for the rest of his life. he was taking what he could.

the taste of her salty tears, the wetness from her cheeks now on his, the hands in her messy hair pushing her desperately closer because he didn't want to let her go.

they sighed when they parted, his teeth grazing her bottom lip at a desperate attempt for more. more time.

they both stepped back, staying silent once again. they didn't have anything to say because their actions said it all. he stepped back to the suitcase he dropped and started moving them out to her car, which had considerably more trunk space than any of his.

it felt like when she was first moving out for college, with stacks of boxes and plenty of suitcases to make it seem like she was fleeing the country.

it all ended the second she walked out the door, but she didn't have to turn her back on him as he walked her to her car, opening the door.

one last hug between them. the last contact.

but they still followed each other's lives.

she would watch his races from the comfort of her new living room couch because she still worried about him the same amount from when they were dating. she noticed his suffering performance, though she sighed every time he crossed the finish line unscathed.

part of him knew she was watching for him.

he still followed her private accounts, liking the posts of the lifestyle that he could never live. it just wasn't his to experience, just like his was never hers to live either. most nights spent drunk in the dj booth, or out to dinner with other drivers, the social life had never been her scene.

he knew.

he knew all along that it was never going to end as they wished in the moment. they stared at their future without fully knowing what was waiting, yet they didn't step down.

months had passed. their lives were supposed to have gotten better, but they could both see they were both suffering.

boxes still unpacked from when she first left, she had never gotten around to fully moving in. still suitcases and cardboard boxes laid around the kitchen of her new apartment.

she felt like she should open them, like she needed to. if not now, would she ever?

boxes full of old memories from her childhood, or stuffed animals she had always convinced lando to buy for her. until there was one box left untouched. she hadn't remembered packing this one.

carefully, she sliced the tape and pulled back the cardboard. she was speechless.

his race helmet. his race helmet he dedicated to her.

dedicated for the anniversary of the day they met. for the race of the country where their eyes first found each other.

it had details about her. her favorite colors, places, things. it had her name, big enough to see from a while away.

he loved this helmet. and he gave it to her.

all she could do now was hug the last remainder of him and cry. she wasn't sure if letting him go was the right or wrong decision, but it felt wrong to question it now.

when she pulled away from the helmet and sniffling her nose, she noticed a piece of paper lodged into the visor. carefully, she pulled it out, unfolding it to see the familiar and horrible handwriting of lando norris.

she was lucky she learned to read it over the years or she would've been screwed.

blue suitcase. for when you're ready.

out of all of the suitcases she had taken, only one was blue. the one he had packed.

she hastily picked herself off the floor, carefully setting the helmet down on the kitchen counter before dropping back down on her knees and desperately unzipped it.

she tossed through every pocket and article of clothing packed into the suitcase, inspecting every single item. until she found it.

of course, he had given her one of his hoodies, but it was not just any of his hoodies. once again, a favorite of his he wore regularly. he gave it to her. it smelled like him still. curse him for spraying cologne on it.

she felt the fabric beneath her fingertips before slipping it on. a smile crept onto her lips as she went and sat back down on her couch, the TV had been playing FP3 in the background before quali in a couple hours time.

she pulled her blanket back over her, slipping her hands into the pockets. her brows furrowed when she felt yet another piece of paper, pulling it out to reveal even more horrendous handwriting from her beloved racer.

will let me know you're watching?

any day now love.

when the nights get lonely, i'll be waiting.

whenever you're ready.

i miss you, i'm sorry

ynusername

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ynusername I don't know if i'm ready for this...

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strawberri-blonde · 9 months

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The Little Warrior’s Needs - Neteyam

Photo edits to @cinetrix

Summary: Neteyam takes your one-month-old son out for the day so you can rest, then when they get home you smell another woman’s scent on your family.

Warning: No warnings that I can think of. Maybe curse words????

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of soft cries. Instinctively, you reach out and press your hand against the woven basket that Neteyam had built for your son months before he was born. As your hands felt the cold, empty basket, your heart sank. You finally opened your blurry eyes and looked down at the basket to see that it was, in fact, empty. 'Ateyo,' the desperate plea of your baby's name escaped your lips.

"Yawne," you feel a hand grab your wrist, making you realize that you had not looked right beside you where Neteyam currently lies with your son in his arms. "Baby, he's right here." You barely slept a wink last night, exhausted from your one-month-old son's incessant crying.

With a heavy sigh, you open your eyes and stretch your sore body. "My beautiful mate, he really took a toll on you last night." You shook your head trying to disagree, while you maneuvered yourself into your mate's side, kissing the soft texture of Ateyo's head.

He looked just like his daddy, such a handsome little man, you thought, letting out an exhausted yawn. Neteyam watched with worried eyes as yours began to close once again, even with his son grabbing at your chest, clearly ready to eat. Your motherly body had grown used to Ateyo's wants and needs over the month, ready to provide for the little creature.

"Hold on, junior." It was a nickname his dad, Jake, had given the infant as soon as he was brought into this world. And Neteyam couldn't help but agree, he was his little mini-me. "I got you."

Shifting his body, the warrior brought his right arm behind your head giving you some kind of support, then held onto his boy's bottom as Ateyo easily latched onto your swollen nipple. "Wish daddy could do that." Even in your sleep-deprived state, you couldn't help but let a warm smile make its way onto your face.

You placed a hand under Neteyam's to help cradle your son on your chest, wincing as he hungrily drank from you. "Such a beautiful, caring mother." Your head nuzzled into Neteyam's chest, craving his loving embrace. The man pressed kisses onto the top of your head then trailed down to your forehead. "I'm so sorry that I fell asleep on you, muntxate. I can't believe I did that."

You hummed against his warm skin, allowing your sleepy eyes to partly open and meet Neteyam's gaze. His amber iris was filled with guilt, which made your heart ache. "Teyam, you went on a huge hunt yesterday," you whispered, raising your hand from Neteyam's arm to cradle the back of Ateyo's head. "You managed to kill a Talioang all on your own and even dragged the beast halfway to the village with just your Ikran before help arrived." Neteyam loves it when you speak about his accomplishments with such pride in your tone. "You provide nourishment for me to be able to produce milk for our baby, so one night of me being up with Ateyo is a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Neteyam pressed a kiss to your lips, trying to express how much he loves you through this simple act of affection. "Next time, wake me up." You chuckled into his mouth while caressing Ateyo's cheek, causing him to slowly droop his eyes into sleep.

"I'll try, yawne."

Neteyam kissed your lips again, running his fingertips against his son's back, watching him get milk drunk off your sweet breasts. "No, you will," you didn't reply, only nuzzled your head into the nook of his neck, letting the warrior hold onto you and the baby. "And to make it up to you, I'm gonna let you rest. I'm gonna take Ateyo with me today." This had you pull away with widened eyes.

"But neither one of us has taken Ateyo out in the village alone." It's true. You and Neteyam would take Ateyo to the village to socialize as a family, but you always did it together because both of you were kind of scared to do it alone, fearing that something might happen to the little guy. There's plenty of things that can hurt the baby in the village, but it was safe at home.

"I know, Y/n, but I want to do this for you. Plus, I want to show off my son to the trainees. I want to let everyone know that we created such a handsome man," Neteyam cooed while pressing kisses to your forehead, then kissing Ateyo on the crown of his head.

You smiled warmly, then sank back into his embrace. "Just be careful, yawne, and if there's one misplaced hair on his head-"

"Calm down, mama. They'd have to get through daddy first." Hearing that allowed you to go right asleep in Neteyam's arms with Ateyo nursing on your chest. With a partner as good as Neteyam, you were beyond grateful for your little family.

_____

As you awoke for the second time today, you subconsciously reaching your hands out for Neteyam's warmth. However your body needed a few more minutes of rest, so before opening your eyes. You fell back to sleep.

This time, it seems like you've woken up by the silence of your home. No sound from the little mouth that used to chatter for milk every few hours. Your eyes slowly flicker open, but your mind feels fuzzy and slow. As you roll over, you realize the bed is empty. At first, you let your mind roam free, wondering where the child is, until you remember that Neteyam mentioned taking him out this morning.

A wave of sadness washes over you. You've never been apart from Ateyo since he was born. The baby was always within arm's reach, even when you were learning your tsahík duties with Mo'at. And Neteyam was always by your side.

Even when he had to go back to training with his dad, he'd make sure you had everything you needed, so you wouldn't have to leave the swaynivi for anything. You let out a loving sigh, thinking about how amazing Neteyam is as a mate. You decided to take his advice and relax.

Climbing out of the swaynivi, you made your way through the dense forest. The birdsongs of the late morning welcomed you as you inhaled the scent of flowers and greenery. It had been almost two months since you had taken a walk through Eywa's creation, as Neteyam had you bedridden near the time for Ateyo to be born.

You couldn't help but giggle, reminiscing about how Neteyam would always get a little flustered whenever you accidentally bumped into a tree or attempted to hunt a tiny bird. Fortunately, your pregnancy progressed quite smoothly, with only sporadic spurts of morning sickness and some minor body aches. Before long, the air in the forest resonated with the sound of your contagious laughter, filling the surroundings with pure joy.

As you felt the hard dirt turn moist under your feet, you knew you were heading towards the small waterfall. Maneuvering yourself around the narrow paths that were clearly overgrown with plant life, the quiet sound of rushing water filled your eardrums. The excitement of the moment caused you to run through the foliage like a kid.

As you dashed through the familiar bushes, you gracefully skip past the leaves and stumbled upon a hidden gem—a small waterfall gracefully flowing between two majestic rocks. Its height barely accommodated Neteyam's towering frame. The water descended with a sense of liberation, creating a delicate mist that danced in the air as it cascaded down the enchanting boulders.

The water was so clear that you didn't hesitate to walk in. You gasped at how cool it was, but still welcomed the feeling and so did your achy muscles. The water just barely reached the bottom on your cheeks. With nimble fingers, you untied your top and glided the material through the water. You figured that while you were here, you'd wash your clothes and make new ones, since you have the time.

Once you were satisfied with your top, you placed it against a sunlit rock. Carefully, you untied your bottoms to repeat the process. Satisfied with them, you gently laid them next to your top. The soothing sounds of the cascading waterfall beckoned you closer. Slowly, you turned in the water, making your way to the steady stream, and stepped into its refreshing embrace. The cold temperature took your breath away, but it was exactly what you needed. After a month of caring for a newborn, you felt your muscles relax as the stress washed away with each droplet.

As you lower yourself into the water, sitting cross-legged, you feel its gentle touch on your tender breasts. Closing your eyes, you relish in the pure bliss. Inhaling deeply, you find a momentary escape from your worries. Your fingers delicately trace the stretch marks on your stomach, cherishing the beautiful reminders of your precious baby boy.

The cold water washes away the sweat and grime, and you can't help but cup your breasts in your hands, feeling how full they are with milk. Guilt and sadness consume you as you think of Ateyo. You wonder if he's hungry, trying to relieve some pressure from the milk buildup beneath the water's surface. But you know that Neteyam is more than qualified to take care of your son; you're just being a worried mama. Shaking away the worry, you continue to relax, knowing that if Neteyam needs you, he'll find you.

_____

You spent some time by the cascade pond and discovered plants with roots that are good for oral health. You made a paste out of them to help with Ateyo's teething pains or for hygiene purposes. Since Eywa is a great provider, the leaves of the plant didn't go to waste. You even made yourself a new outfit.

The leaves' smooth texture provided great support for your breasts, alleviating the pain when they were full. Your loincloth fit perfectly, accentuating the vibrant green against your beautiful blue skin. You skillfully wove a thin, cut-up leaf around your tail, adding an exquisite touch to your attire. And of course, you made two bracelets woven in the same pattern throughout your entire look.

The bracelets weren't meant for you, but with your heart racing, you practically skipped through the forest. You entered with nothing but your drained body, and now you feel so refreshed. Plus, you're also leaving with a brand new woven basket, holding your old clothes, paste, and the two special gifts. It's been quite the adventure.

As you come home, you feel a tinge of sadness seeing that Neteyam and Ateyo haven't arrived yet. Your heart sinks a bit, thinking that your baby might be hungry if Neteyam hasn't fed him. To calm your nerves, you settle down on the woven mat in your home, patiently waiting for their return.

However, the minutes felt like an eternity. Finally, you hear footsteps approaching the home, and Neteyam appears with your baby in his arms. A huge smile makes its way to your face, and you jump up from the mat, catching Neteyam's attention.

As those captivating amber eyes locked with yours, your heart stirred with a rush of emotions. You couldn't help but watch in awe as Neteyam sported a mischievous grin and swiftly ascended the tree, ensuring Ateyo was safely nestled in the Iveh k'nivi s'dir, snug against his chest. Once he reached you, you instantly wrapped your arms around his biceps, pressing kisses to the back of your baby's head. "Oh my goodness," you cooed, peeking your head next to Neteyam's so Ateyo could see you.

His tiny face lights up with pure joy, making Neteyam laugh. Ateyo's eyes sparkle, and his little mouth forms the sweetest grin, melting your heart instantly. "My handsome man," you grab under Ateyo's arms and pull him out of the baby-carrier while Neteyam's hand flies under his butt for extra safety.

Once you had your sweet baby cuddled into your chest, Neteyam leaned in and kissed your temple. You turned away from your son for a moment to give your mate a quick kiss on the lips. "Oh, he must be so hungry," you said, reaching behind you to untie your new top. But Neteyam gently stopped you with a touch on your arm.

"Actually, baby, he's eaten." Your eyes widen at the news, and as Ateyo reaches for your unbraided hair, his sloppy mouth presses against the smooth fabric of your top. "Well, it doesn't look like it, but I swear he did."

"How-" Before you could utter a word, a powerful aroma of feminine pheromones enveloped your senses. Your body instinctively responded, ears flattening and a low growl slipping from your lips.

"Shh, mama." Neteyam sensed your maternal instincts awakening, gently cradling the back of your head and drawing it towards his neck. He enveloped you both in a warm embrace, with the baby nestled between you. However, it didn't ease your worries, as you could still detect the scent on him. "I apologize, it was Rini. I thought you wouldn't mind."

Rini was an amazing friend you connected with because both of you experienced pregnancy together. Neteyam often went hunting with her mate, Talion, and it was comforting to have someone who understood your journey. "I took him to the training grounds, and he got fussy because this big guy never wants to stop eating." Honestly, you didn't mind. The Omatikaya women often support each other with milk supply or other needs. It wasn't Rini's scent that bothered you; there was another pheromone that triggered your primal instincts. "So Talion suggested that Rini could feed him, and I genuinely believed it was innocent-"

You shook your head and gave him a teasing lick from his collarbone to his earlobe, rendering him speechless as you explored his neck, drenching him in your scent. "That's not it," you murmured, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.

Neteyam tangled his fingers in your hair, gently pulling you back to kiss your moist lips. "Could be anyone, baby. We had quite an adventure today," he whispered. As you gradually regained your composure, you felt a bit silly for overreacting and mumbled a 'sorry' against his lips. You then leaned in to shower Ateyo's face with kisses, enjoying the adorable sounds he made, which you assumed were laughter.

"Don't you dare apologize for loving us," he said, causing a wide grin to spread across your face as you looked up at Neteyam with adoring eyes. "And let me tell you, if I ever caught even a hint of another male's scent on my family, someone I didn't know, I'd instantly go into protective mode." You couldn't help but appreciate how Neteyam always seemed to have the perfect words to make you feel less overwhelmed by your hormones. "But I'm sorry, yawne, I have to get off topic because you look so amazing." You blush as Neteyam compliments your appearance, and Ateyo looks up at you with a smile. "Did you make this today?" He leans in and nuzzles his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

"But I also whipped up a few other goodies." Neteyam's curiosity is sparked, and he leans in closer, resting his chin on Ateyo's head.

"Well, isn't that a funny coincidence because we actually got you a surprise too!" Your expression turned to one of delightful surprise as you pulled away slightly, catching sight of a beautifully woven satchel draped over Neteyam's shoulder. It was something you had been too caught up in the moment to notice before. "But why don't you go first?" He playfully suggested, gently smoothing Ateyo's tiny tuft of black fuzz for hair with a smile.

With utmost care, you cradled Ateyo in your arms before gently detaching from Neteyam. Your hands swiftly retrieved the meticulously crafted basket. Extending your hand towards him, he grasped it willingly, allowing you to guide him to the floor. There, side by side, you both settled into a comfortable position, sitting cross-legged as excitement filled the air.

Neteyam quickly grabbed the satchel slung over his shoulder and placed it in front of him, while you opened your own bag. "Well, I whipped up some oral paste for when Ateyo's little teeth start coming in, and to keep our breath minty fresh," you proudly shared.

"So that's where you got the new outfit from." Neteyam's keen observation about your new outfit brought a grin to your face. As you playfully twirled the seashell containing the paste in your hand, your boys gently explored the fabric of your top, their hands filled with curiosity.

"In fact, I had some extra material, so..." Your voice trailed off with anticipation as you reached into your bag to put the paste away, before revealing the woven bracelets with a radiant smile. "I made something special for my boys."

Neteyam's eyes widen with excitement as he takes in the two bracelets that you held in the air. "Did you really make these for us?" he asks in awe, grabbing them from your grasp to show them to Ateyo. The bracelets are intricately woven from the leaves you collected from the plant from the waterfall. Each one crafted from nothing but love resulting in a one-of-a-kind gift. "They're absolutely stunning, babygirl! I can't express how much I'll cherish this," he exclaims. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart." Neteyam plants a soft kiss on your cheek before placing the bracelets on Ateyo's wrist and his own. "You're so talented." He cradles Ateyo hand in his marveling at the matching bracelets then he leans in for a long, romantic kiss on your lips.

"Really it was nothing," you mumbled against his lips hearing Ateyo gurgling as he instantly brought his wrist to his mouth to suck on the woven jewelry. "Just wanted to do something special for my boys that's all."

Neteyam shook his head wearing a huge grin kissing you again before pulling away to open his own bag making your nose flare as you smell that aroma again. Shifting Ateyo in your arms you grabbed Neteyam's wrist making him halt his movements to turn to you. "I smell it again." This had Neteyam lift his face, appearing lost in thought as if he was pondering something.

"Maybe," he began, causing you to release your grasp on him and instead rest your hand on his thigh. "We also went berry picking," he stated, pulling out a small purple berry and raising it to your lips. Without hesitation, you accepted it, even though you could smell that pheromone lingering on the fruit. Then, it hit you.

"Was it Marali's trees that you both ventured to?" Marali, a wise and experienced Na'vi woman, has dedicated her years to nurturing a magnificent array of plants that sustain our village. As she gracefully ages, her body started to undergo a natural transformation, signaling the end of her ability to bear children. This change brings about a shift in a Na'vi women's scent, which grows more potent as her womb determines that her time for motherhood has passed.

"Indeed, it was," Neteyam declared with a knowing smile. "The moment she laid eyes on Junior, she couldn't resist him. Can you blame her? He bears an uncanny resemblance to me." Playfully rolling your eyes, you bumped into his shoulder. As his words sank in, a warm blush spread across your cheeks, making you realize the intensity of your earlier outburst. Sensing the shift in your emotions, Neteyam leaned in and planted a soft, affectionate kiss on your lips.

Whispering sweetly, he said, "I adore your protective nature, yawne. I adore everything about you. You do so much for our family." His words made your heart flutter, and tears of joy welled up in your eyes. Lost in the moment, you didn't even notice him discreetly pulling something out of the sachet, cradling it in his hand.

You felt Ateyos's head on your chest drop slightly from drowsiness. Neteyam opened his hands, revealing a sight that left you in awe. It was a magnificent woven necklace, a true work of art. The intricate patterns and vibrant colors mesmerized you. The delicate clay pendant held a tiny heart at its center, resembling delicate fingerprints, with a sprinkle of tiny crystals embedded in the material. With gentle fingers, you traced the contours of the tiny heart, feeling a sense of connection. "It's Ateyo thumbs pressed together to make a heart."

You take the necklace from Neteyam and examine the detail of the jewelry. The intricate curves and creased of Ateyo's little thumbs are captured perfectly and the jewelry shines brightly. You're overwhelmed with emotion as you clutch the necklace to your chest.

"I love you, Neteyam," you declare, your voice filled with affection. Your lips meet his in a deep, passionate kiss, expressing the depth of your love. As you hold him close, mindful of Ateyo nestled on your chest, you cherish the bond you share as a family. Although it's been some time since you last pumped milk from your breasts, the ache is starting to make its presence known. However, you choose to set aside the discomfort, not wanting anything to spoil this precious moment between you and Neteyam.

You were truly amazed by the necklace, rendering you almost speechless. It's a precious keepsake that immortalizes your son's tiny thumbs, allowing you to carry it with you always. Neteyam delicately takes the necklace and places it around your neck, softly brushing his lips over the spot where the clay meets your skin making your breast feel even heavy under his touch.

"I'm so glad you love it, Y/n," Neteyam exclaims with a smile. "Whenever I see you wearing it, it will always bring back memories of Ateyo." He gently strokes your chin, his touch tender and affectionate. "The crystal and colors I chose are a perfect match for you." Your heart swells with a mix of emotions as Neteyam vegans to showers you with kisses.

You tilted your head to give him more room as he nibbled on your neck, causing an involuntary gasp to escape your lips. In that moment, a small mishap occurred as the inside of your top got wet. The fullness in your breasts caused a bit of milk to leak.

The air filled with the sweet scent of your milk, causing mixed reactions from those around. You felt a bit embarrassed, but Neteyam's eyes showed a different emotion. Just as you were about to speak, Ateyo's hungry cries interrupted the tender moment. You chuckled playfully, and Neteyam grinned, shaking his head. He gently removed the Iveh k'nivi s'dir from his chest and suggested, "Should we put the necklace aside and take care of our little warrior's needs?"

"Shhh, Ateyo, I've got you," you whispered, gently comforting the baby, while Neteyam helped you take off the lovely necklace. He then rose to prepare the nursing area for the three of us. Once the space felt warm and inviting, Neteyam reached for his sachet and pulled out a small wooden jar. He walked over to you, helping you to your feet, and tenderly planted kisses on Ateyo's soft scalp, soothing him. "We swung by Mo'at's, and I picked up some oil that's good for your sensitive nipples," he shared, causing a rosy blush to grace your cheeks as Neteyam sported a mischievous smirk. "I know he's a determined eater because Rini... Well, she couldn't help but make funny faces during his early lunch. She even mentioned that their own son doesn't eat that aggressively, which made me feel even more sympathetic. But you, you never complain, yawne. You're an incredible mama."

You kissed Neteyam's lips, placing your finger in Ateyo's mouth to soothe him. "Neteyam, I have nothing to complain about." You admitted letting him guide you to the nursing area. "Our family is everything I've ever wanted." You and Neteyam share a kiss as he helped you untie your top, releasing your breast out in the comfort of your home.

Neteyam lifted up the top of the jar grabbing a little amount of solidified oil and rubbed it into his hands to turn it into a liquid before looking at you like he was asking permission making you grin out a nod. In a complete non sexual manner, your mate softly applied the oil over your sensitive tits. "Suppose to have a cold feel to the skin," experiencing his soft but strong hands over your heavy breasts felt so good. "... to release some of the pain and Mo'at said that the oil can even keep Ateyo's lips soft."

"Really?" you mumbled, adjusting your son to a comfortable position and allowing him to latch onto your breast. He drank eagerly, while you could already feel the effects from the mixture.

"Yeah, daddy might have to check it out for himself." This had you rolling your eyes at his silliness, while Neteyam only snickered. He rose to his feet and sat behind you, pulling you into his warm chest, allowing you to sink into him and letting him carry the weight of you and his son.

As Ateyo nurses noisily from your chest, Neteyam smiles fondly at the peaceful sight and reaches an arm around your body to caress his son's head. Ateyo pauses for a moment to look up at his parents before getting back to sucking. Your eyes couldn't move away from your little handsome man, and you find yourself saying, "Neteyam, you really spoil me too much. Not only did you give me the cutest, sweetest baby, but you genuinely take such good care of me. I feel selfish sometimes."

Neteyam softly caressed your back, a smile appearing on his face radiating with pride at your appreciation. "As your husband, it's my duty to take care of you," he responds, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I want you to always be happy and well taken care of. Along with Ateyo, you both are my life." Neteyam leans in and plants a kiss on your temple as Ateyo continues to feed. "But yes, I'll admit that spoiling you is one of my favorite activities." He chuckles, his fingers leaving your back to caress your cheek. "I don't expect anything in return because you already do so much for us. I love making you feel special."

Without your knowledge, earlier Neteyam had discreetly placed the satchel near the nursery area. He momentarily shifted to grab the pouch, then settled back behind you and your son. With a gentle gesture, he presented a berry to your lips, saying, "Now eat, because I know you're hungry after nursing our little one."

Your eyes light up as you feel an unexpected berry against your lips. You turn head and shift your eyes to meet Neteyam's eyes, which are filled with a playful gleam. The two of you share a mischievous smile and you take the berry, eating it hungrily. "You didn't have to do this, Neteyam," you say, your cheeks flushed and your eyes shining. "But I'm very glad that you did." The two of you share another sweet moment together before Neteyam reaches back to the satchel, feeding you another one.

As you savor the last bite of the berry, the sweet juice lingers on your tongue. With Neteyam's gentle caresses and tender kisses, you feel comforted in his embrace. The three of you, united as a family, share this precious, quiet moment together. Closing your eyes, you let the warmth of the scene envelop you, filling your heart with pure happiness for our small but hopefully soon growing family.

Hoped you like it feedback is appreciated!!!

~ Caroline

#neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam fluff #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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dostoyevsky-official · 10 months

Text

Grandi has dedicated his career to debunking the myths around Italian food; this is the first time he’s spoken to the foreign press.

Grandi’s speciality is making bold claims about national staples: that most Italians hadn’t heard of pizza until the 1950s, for example, or that carbonara is an American recipe. Many Italian “classics”, from panettone to tiramisu, are relatively recent inventions, he argues. [...] And his mission is to disrupt the foundations on which we Italians have built our famous, and famously inflexible, culinary culture — a food scene where cappuccini must not be had after midday and tagliatelle must have a width of exactly 7mm.

[...] “It’s all about identity,” Grandi tells me between mouthfuls of osso buco bottoncini. He is a devotee of Eric Hobsbawm, the British Marxist historian who wrote about what he called the invention of tradition. “When a community finds itself deprived of its sense of identity, because of whatever historical shock or fracture with its past, it invents traditions to act as founding myths,” Grandi says.

[...] Panettone is a case in point. Before the 20th century, panettone was a thin, hard flatbread filled with a handful of raisins. It was only eaten by the poor and had no links to Christmas. Panettone as we know it today is an industrial invention.

Parmesan, he says, is remarkably ancient, around a millennium old. But before the 1960s, wheels of parmesan cheese weighed only about 10kg (as opposed to the hefty 40kg wheels we know today) and were encased in a thick black crust. Its texture was fatter and softer than it is nowadays. “Some even say that this cheese, as a sign of quality, had to squeeze out a drop of milk when pressed,” Grandi says. “Its exact modern-day match is Wisconsin parmesan.” He believes that early 20th-century Italian immigrants, probably from the Po’ region north of Parma, started producing it in Wisconsin and, unlike the cheesemakers back in Parma, their recipe never evolved. So while Parmigiano in Italy became over the years a fair-crusted, hard cheese produced in giant wheels, Wisconsin parmesan stayed true to the original.

“Italian cuisine really is more American than it is Italian,” Grandi says squarely.

[...] Today, Italian food is as much a leitmotif for rightwing politicians as beautiful young women and football were in the Berlusconi era.

[P]oliticians understand the power of what Grandi terms “gastronationalism”. Who cares if the traditional food culture they promote is partly based on lies, recipes dreamt up by conglomerates or food imported from America? Few things are more reassuring and agreeable than an old lady making tortellini.

It wasn’t always like this. “The grandparents knew it was a lie,” Grandi tells me, finishing the last of his prosecco. “The philologic concern with ingredient provenance is a very recent phenomenon.” Indeed it’s hard to imagine that people who survived the second world war eating chestnuts, as my grandfather did, would be concerned about using pork jowl instead of pork belly in a pasta recipe. Or as Grandi puts it, “Their ‘tradition’ was trying not to starve.”

[...] As Grandi points out, a tradition is nothing but an innovation that was once successful.

Everything I, an Italian, thought I knew about Italian food is wrong

the most hated man in italy is a historian on a mission to prove that most immemorial italian traditions—like many elsehwere—date from 1860-1960

#focaccia is an ancient roman recipe however

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tetsutits · 2 years

Text

cw ;; ab riding ushijima ... that is all. fem! reader. called baby one time. look away yall you dont see anything here

not proofread at all,, also HI HQ fandom im back - masterlist

nsfw minors dni.

“i wanna try something new tonight,”

ushijima pauses from where he sits under you, eyes peeking up with interest--silently telling you to go on while his large hands knead the flesh of your hips.

you look away sheepishly, embarrassed of what you're about to ask him. there's a persistent urge crawling up your spine, and your core aches with need, "i... i wanna ride you,"

his brows furrow in confusion. why would you ask him? you both already know where this night is going, and you've definitely made it clear to him when you crawled into his lap and placed your lips square against his.

"okay," he says flatly, face void of any expression--it wouldn't be the first time you'd ride him. "you can if you'd like."

the grip you have on his shoulders tightens, nails digging into the muscled flesh.

"yeah, but..." you shake your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes, and instead choose to fiddle with your bottom lip before you utter your next words.

"i... wanna ride your abs."

you think you've fucked up--because he completely stops moving, mouth agape, and his eyes are wide with shock. what makes it even worse is that he doesn't say anything back, completely silent as he processes your words.

"or-or not!" you blurt. "we don't need to do that! really, you can just ignor-"

"okay." he cuts you off.

you're stunned into silence, completely thrown off by his answer, because no - you didn't expect him to be so okay with your dirty desires. and you certainly didn't expect him to agree to try something new--right in the heat of the moment.

when you first started dating - he had some experience with random hookups and one night stands; he's told you that it wasn't much of a priority for him to sleep with someone every weekend. and while you weren't much stunned by the news -being the freak you are- you definitely felt like you had to hide yourself while being intimate with him - not wanting to make him uncomfortable with your sexual fantasies.

but now you're being stripped of your clothes, quick hands ridding you of your top and bottoms - there isn't much more said between you two when you shove him so he's laying down on the couch and the top of his hoodie over and up to his chin.

he angles your bare pussy over his abdomen, already glistening with slick and need. your hands find purchase on his well-built chest, using him to control your movements as you slowly sink down.

"oh, fuck," you hum at the immediate contact. he watches you with eager eyes, hands resting atop your thighs.

and it's so hot seeing him like this - sweat beading at his forehead and at the skin of his chest. his abs -just like every other part of his body- look like they've been sculpted by the gods to perfection. you'd mistake him for a greek statue if you didn't know any better.

"toshi-" his large hands grip the back of your ass, pushing you and grinding you even further into him. "a-ah, shit,"

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you lose yourself completely to the pleasure--your mind numb, body moving over the thick ridges and indents of his muscled skin.

'...you look so good using me like this," he breathes, snapping you out of your hazy state.

you laugh softly, "can't believe we've never done this before,"

your clit nudges back and forth between the valleys of his abs--stimulating you perfectly, the built up wetness makes it even easier for you to slide over his skin.

you note that its not rough--nor is his skin soft, its the perfect texture for you to use. its not overbearing--rather soothing in someway. you think he was absolutely made for you to ride.

the little happy trail that leads from his bellybutton to his hard cock tickles your cunt, the small hairs shamelessly coated by your juice. it sends shocks of pleasure up your body, and it has you moaning his name over and over.

"that's it," he pants, greedily helping you move, he watches the way your face contorts in pleasure, how your mouth is open, how your tits slightly bounce with every nudge of your hips.

he thinks he's never seen you prettier than you are right now.

"use me, baby. use me all you want," he whispers, looking up at you, knowing that your dancing at the edge of the cliff of your orgasm.

"ah-! fuck there!" you whine, and at the last grind of your hips, you're cumming straight on his abs. thighs twitching, head thrown back as you see stars behind your eyes.

he guides you through your high, strong hands remain on your flesh as he moves you back and fourth repeatedly.

you let out a heaving sigh, and slump into his muscled form. "fuck...you remind me everyday why i love your abs,"

his arms wrap soothingly around your shuddering frame, petting your hair, "only my abs?" he teases.

you look up at him from where your head rests on his chest, "all of you," you giggle, hand traveling down to where his hard and aching cock sits in his sweats.

"mostly your cock, though."

this got me out of my writing block. just thought ya'll should know jdbxb reblogs and feedback always appreciated !!!! <3

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi x you #haikyuu smut

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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

The Rush

MDNI/18+

You drag your tight-laced bodyguard, John Price, out to the club. He gets a bit of a contact high from your molly, and lets you ride his thigh to the rhythm.

TW: drug use, thigh riding, come on clothing

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Troye Sivan’s “Rush” was playing in the background, the heavy bass thumping through the hollow of your chest, and you were just beginning to feel the effects of the little blue pill you took in the car. The lights of the club were chaotic, brilliantly so, and you let the music guide you. But, you were lonely.

Your bodyguard was sulking off to the side, dressed like a cop even in casual wear, gripping his gun like it was going to fly away. You loved to bother this man. It didn’t hurt that he was fine as hell, built like a bull, and some type of ex-special forces bloke. It was those eyes, though. Something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.

You sauntered over to him, teasing him for the nth time tonight.

“Hey, John,” you rubbed yourself on him like a cat, “You having fun yet, big boy?”

He smiled with a little huff, scanning the room,

“No, ma’am. Workin’. Fun is for when I get off the clock.”

“I can get you off…” you had finally done enough to earn a long, hard stare, “Maybe not the clock, but…”

You smiled slyly and ran your hands up his shirt, feeling the hair and sweat sticking to his skin. His belly jumped under your hand, giving him away. He didn’t stop you, though, so you kept playing with him, letting his body keep you warm as you sweated out your drugs.

You were high as a kite, and all of his texture was making you hyper focused, stimulating yourself with the crease of his muscles, the scent of his cologne.

“Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night, ma’am?”

He tried to look at the crowd again, but your writhing form and your exploring hands were a little too distracting. You turned away from him, planting your plump arse against his crotch, grinding against him, hoping to feel his cock.

You reached up and looped your hands around his shoulders, digging into the meat of him, finding his bones,

“No, sir, I don’t. I think you should dance with me.”

You must’ve been higher than you thought. As the room pulsed around you, beating at you like a heart, you could have sworn you heard him moan. You whined your hips, trying to make him hard. Then, you went from feeling soft, loose fabric to something else entirely.

Surely…

You rolled around his hip again, just to be certain.

Surely, that monster was his gun and not his dick?

It was your turn to moan, and you did it with abandon. No one could hear you anyway, and the whole club was focused on their own experiences, not on you and your fucking obvious narc.

“Is that you, baby? My God, you are a big boy, aren’t you?”

He didn’t say anything, but he did place a hand on your hip, holding you noncommittally. It was too soft to be a push, but it was firm enough for you to feel his warm hand through the silk of your mini dress.

You grabbed it and brought it up the front of your body, bringing his palm to your breast, letting him feel the tight hardness of your nipple and the unbelievable softness of your flesh.

You heard it again. John had moaned into your ear, you were sure of it. As if to confirm your suspicions, he gave you the most delicate squeeze, and then released you.

You turned back around to find a very different man looking down at you. His eyes were blown, and he was breathing heavily through his nose.

“Don’t you wanna dance with me?” You begged.

Grabbing his fingers in your small hand, you brought them not to your breast but lower this time, under the short hem of your dress. You were still grinding against each other to the relentless beat, and it wasn’t until you tucked his hand all the way down between your legs that you watched his rhythm falter.

His fingers collided with your wet folds, slipping into them easily, and he reached deeper on his own accord, exploring your hole and all of the warm, soaking things it was promising him.

You cried out, planting a kiss to his collarbone, letting him finger fuck you as you grinded into each other, stirring up an intense flood of emotions and feelings, making your high feel like it would carry you to the ends of the earth together.

It was intoxicating to watch him untie himself from the ropes of his duties, and you could feel him humping into you on purpose, now, thrusting over the curve of your belly with his enormous length as he fingered you in the crowded club. The blue and green lights that lasered across his eyes made him look like a demon, snarling and hungry for you and everything you kept secret.

“How about you dance right here?” Price purred.

He took his hand from you and tasted you. Price licked you from his fingers, just like he was flipping the page of a book. Then, he raised up his knee and shoved it, hard, between your legs, giving you something wide and solid to grind on. Instinctively, your hands wrapped around his thigh, or tried to anyway, holding yourself steady.

Your fingertips brushed against the sensitive head of his cock, long enough to have reached your grip, and you gasped. Straddling him was a whole new experience, and your drug-soaked mind was reeling from it. It overwhelmed you, and as you used one hand to palm his cock on the outside of his jeans, you used your other to help rock your hips back and forth across the denim, reveling in the texture.

His head fell back when you touched him with your hand, and you smiled, praising him,

“You feel so damn huge.”

John’s eyes focused back on you in a flash, and you moved together, surging when the beat rose, and collapsing together when it fell, the two of you caught in its current.

He wrapped his huge hands around your waist and held you down on him firmly, keeping your pace for you.

His smile turned sinister as he commanded you,

“Let go. Let me.”

You did as he bade, wrapping the hand that had been steadying you around his hulking shoulder instead. His grip was painfully tight around your body, and his fingertips dug cruelly into your arse cheeks, pressing your wet pussy down into his muscle and bone.

He forced you back and forth along his thigh, picking up speed to match the drum and bass. You felt him stoke and blow at the fire within your core, and you looked up to him with a face you knew was full of your hungry lust.

“Is that what you needed, hm?”

“I need this thick cock, John.”

“Come for me, and I’ll give it to you, darlin’,” he promised darkly, leaning down to growl his words right into your ear.

You sent back a long moan into his, letting him drive your hips and rub your clit against him. You felt the wetness of the denim beneath you, and you knew you were soaking a spot into his pants.

“I’m getting you all wet,” you whined into his neck, licking along his throat just as he was kissing yours, sucking on your sensitive skin.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grunted, ruthless in his pace, “I’ve got you.”

The lights and sounds and colors and smell of him all invaded your mind. It was too much, and it was not enough. Everything was swirling together and you were floating through it, letting it carry you along like a stray leaf down a stream, buoyant and vulnerable.

But, John was there. He anchored you to him, letting your high run you wild while he kept you safe, locked in his hands. The molly was making you emotional, and when you started to come, you weren’t sure if it was from his physical efforts or from his delicate care.

You held onto his cock like a lifeline, stroking him steadily for comfort. It felt so good to press into his swollen head with your palm. He was so warm, like a glowing torch beneath your fingers. You wanted to see it.

You lost the pacing, but he kept it for you, grunting with every push and pull of your body, sounding as if he was coming with you as you tumbled over your peak, whimpering and mewling for him, pliant as a petal in his hands.

“John, please… oh, fuck!”

“I know, baby, I know. I know. I know…” He chanted to you. His voice invaded your mind and the club fell away. It was just you and John in the blackness of your mind.

Under your hand, you felt his cock jump at you, leaping toward you out of the thick cloth that trapped it to his body. Then, you felt a wetness soaking through at his tip, and you rubbed it faster, encouraging him, hoping he would come with you. The wet spot grew, spanning out in a small puddle, staining the fabric darkly.

His teeth were on you then, holding you at your throat, not biting, but not letting go. His cries were a symphony of sound, and they made your entire nervous system light up. You felt incredible as you listened to him coming, ruining his jeans as you ruined them as well, making him look like he’d spilled a drink all over himself in very conspicuous spots.

As he came down, he was laughing, softly, chuckling from sheer disbelief. You’d wrung him out like a cloth, and the ragged sigh that came from his throat told you so.

He helped you off of his knee, careful not to hurt you. He fixed the edge of your dress so that it fell where it meant to, and then he looked down to survey the damage.

You didn’t like the sobering look on his face, and you’d do anything to keep him in your thrall. So, you grabbed his hand and led him out back to where your limo was parked. Pushing through the mass of writhing bodies just made you want to be closer to him.

You asked the driver to take you home, straddling John’s lap on the seat, eager for round two. You heard the privacy screen roll up and you smiled. You found your purse and pulled out your last two pills, sticking both of them in your mouth. Then, you leaned down to kiss him, feeding him one.

He swallowed it, to your surprise.

“I thought you’d protest about being on the clock, baby…” you started to unbutton his shirt, playing with his nipples when you found them, rubbing your fingers through his thick hair.

He kissed you again, a little more chastely this time, and peeked down at his watch,

“It’s 0300, ma’am. I’m a free man.”

“Turn the music up, then,” you said, kissing his neck as he used the remote to turn up the volume, letting your shared high carry you all the way home.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Okay, listen. Just hear me out for a second, okay. Okay, look… lol 😂 I have been listening to Troye Sivan’s “Rush” all freaking season and every time I listen to it, all I can imagine is gruff, huffy, serious John Price on the dance floor with you as you slowly convince him to let loose and dance-fuck you. I will not be explaining myself further!!! It is burned into my mind. 😂 I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Sorry!!!

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #captain price #john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #alternate universe #bodyguard #tw drugs

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konigsblog · 3 months

Note

I need more of the rapist Ghostz what happens next? Does he moves to other women or focuses on the rookie

WARNINGS: RAPE/NON-CON, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOUR, STALKING, RAPIST!SIMON. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, DARK FIC.

(YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY.)

simon was never one to focus on a specific person; he took whatever he could get. but, simon gradually found himself desperate, longing for the tightness of your gummy walls, how euphoric he felt with your drooling cunt tightening around his girthy shaft, drawing him in closer. he sighed deeply, clicking his pin while desperately trying to ignore his thick and stiffening boner, the way it twitched and throbbed whilst stuffed inside his tight boxers. he was glad you were drunk, not remembering a single thing; not the gruffness of his manchester accent, not his athletic, muscular and brute body type.

he always saw you training, trying to release all your built up rage from a failed mission. he could sense you weren't certain in the events — whether it was some sick nightmare, or some delusion you had whilst drunk. simon abruptly left his office, leaving behind paperworks apon paperworks just to fulfill his need with your precious cunt.

you are his rape meat; not a soldier, nothing but a pathetic loser to take his load.

you were getting changed out of your workout clothes, body hot and sweaty, your head pounding with a headache, a migraine. simon grabbed your body firmly, pulling you closer to him, before slamming you against the nearest wall. the door was locked shut, his large and calloused hand covering your mouth to silence your squeaks and terrified wails for help, sympathy, or mercy. your body felt weak as you fought him, his hands touching you all over as he rubbed and grinded himself back and forth against you. the smell of your arousal was delicious, your body forced to act upon his desires as he humped you.

simon's pocket knife cut your lace panties as he dragged it up your thigh, leaving you in your t-shirt, bare from the waist below. tears pooled in your waterline as he began fiddling with his fly and trousers, relieving himself by pushing deep inside your swelling cunny. your pretty, slick pussy throbbed and pulsed around his shaft, each thrust agonising while you cried out through pain and fear; your body shuddering with each hard movement. he grinded deep into you, panting beside your ear, his eyes closed and furrowed. god, you felt so good, the familiar texture of your walls absolutely and utterly addictive. how could he resist such a thing like you?

you're a stupid rookie; with your purpose being to serve your superiors the way they enjoy.

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chimkin-samich · 9 months

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Little fun thing Feral sketch out and i colored

Tari is much more buff than in the usual au’s here for the pure fact of her work, she is a researcher who focuses on mythical creatures both “wild” and “civil”, she tends to be out in the wild often and also built up the muscle to help with dealing with bigger and more likely stronger creatures, plus gotta hold the large baby creatures if need lmao

Her scar was from a baby sphinx that was brought to the facility after being found to be orphaned, it was very skittish and nervous but she managed to coax it out of its hiding place to give it a check up, unfortunately another coworker startled it and it got a good smack on her face, it was apologetic and from there she pretty much trusted her to do check ups, she saw it as win-win the little one trusts her and she got a cool scar out of it lol

As to how she ends up in the boys little hidden village, she had befriended Freddy, a werebear, who was looking to go back home after adopting Gregory, so she decided to tag along, get out of the big city and get some potential research so she why not go along. The village “chief” is pretty much just female green dragon that can shift between human, antho dragon, to large dragon, that is the protecter of the forest, decides if shes a friend of her old friend Freddy, than she can stick around

Moon was the patrol who brought them in and also just to mess with him she tells him Tari can room with him and the other 2 during her trail period, if she passes they can find her a place of her own after that. Moon was obviously not happy but had to go along, drops her off with Eclipse and lets him set her up in their place and then show her around town and as well as any potential jobs she can help with and is interested in.

Eclipse startles her with his massive size on accident lol, she was distracted waiting for him to come down (they live in a large tree house) and when she turned to look at him when she hears him land she did NOT expect the large towering figure sdjknfl

The other glamrocks are involved here as well! Chica’s appearance is slightly different, no feather on the arms, their textured like her legs but they have feathers coming off the sides (like a velociraptor) she is another patrol… everyone is scared when shes looking for info because she will chase you down to get it

Roxanne is one of the dragons guards and warriors and shes built like the classic hunching werewolf, Vanessa is also part of the dragon guard

Monty we still haven’t decided but hes well known as the crocodilian who swears hes a gator lmao, his game design is clearly a croc 😭 his snoot is croc shape not gator no matter how much they try to say it isnt ddsjkfnkn

And sketch below the readmore as always

#arts #sundrop #sun fnaf #fnaf moon #moondrop #eclipse #eclipse fnaf #moth sun #moth eclipse #moth moon #eclipse sun and moon #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #eclipse x reader #daycare attendent #fnaf daycare attendant #moth au

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discoscoob · 21 days

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✧ ˚ BREAK THE CHAIN

˙ ✩°˖🏛️ ⋆｡˚ Donnie Barksdale x Reader x Kevin Lomax

CW: toxic and abusive marriage, physical abuse, possessive and jealous behaviour, threats of violence.

Synopsis: during the turmoil of your divorce proceedings against your abusive husband, you and your lawyer confront your husband's relentless refusal to accept the end of your marriage. 2.6k words.

˙ ✩°˖🏛️ ⋆｡˚

“How can he do this? How can he get away with spewing such venomous lies about me? He knows the truth. He knows what he put me through. Why can’t he just admit it?!” you emerge from the courthouse, alongside your lawyer Kevin, trying to seek some reassurance after yet another gruelling day in your divorce hearing. You’re on the verge of tears, wondering how much more of this you can take before you reach breaking point.

In a desperate attempt to tarnish your reputation and undermine your credibility, your soon-to-be-ex-husband, Donnie, and his sleaze-ball of a lawyer, hurled accusations of infidelity and deceit against you, claiming that any abuse you endured during your marriage had not been at the hands of your husband. His entire defence was built on a lie, shifting the accusation of abuse onto fabricated lovers, stating that you were trying to pin the blame on him and make him out to be a monster.

The touch of Kevin’s hand grounds you, takes control and pulls you back to reality before you spiral any further. Gently brushing the soft pad of his thumb against your knuckles, you can’t help but compare how smooth and gentle his hands feel to the rough and calloused texture you were used to feeling from Donnie’s.

“Listen to me,” Kevin’s velvet tone pulls your focus away from your intertwined hands and you look up into his gentle eyes that are full of calm determination. “Donnie is grasping at straws, he can make as many accusations as he pleases just don’t let them get to you. These claims only show how desperate he is to regain control over the narrative. His lies hold no weight in the eyes of the law, they’re nothing but baseless accusations. We have the truth on our side, nothing can change that.”

“What if the truth isn’t enough?” you worry, casting your gaze downward. Your mind is plagued with doubt, brought on by the accusations of betrayal to dismantle your claims of abuse.

“Trust me, Y/N,” Kevin gently takes your chin between his finger and thumb to guide your gaze back towards him. “I’ve got this, alright? Donnie will slip up eventually.” promise radiates from his gaze, while he speaks with unwavering confidence.

For Kevin, litigating a case is like playing chess, he has the skill to anticipate every move the opposition will make and he has every counterattack planned in advance. He knows when to sit back and observe and when to strike, possessing the ability to unravel an opponents case with strategic attacks that ultimately secure victories for his clients. He has no reason to believe this case will be any different.

You draw strength from Kevin’s optimism, like a soothing balm over your doubts and anxieties, once again the gentle brush of his thumb against your knuckles grounds you.

“If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I could get through this.” you mumble as you rest your forehead against Kevin’s shoulder, in return you feel his arm wrap around you, offering the comfort you were seeking.

“Enough of that,” Kevin’s melodic accent whispers in your ear, soft and mellow, as he pulls you closer. “You’re strong, Y/N, stronger than you know, you hear me? I’ll be by your side you every step of the way but don’t for a second underestimate your own strength and resilience.”

Before you can respond, the shrill sound of Kevin’s ringtone interrupts the moment. Withdrawing his embrace, he digs into his suit pocket to pull out his phone and inspect the caller ID.

“I oughta take this real quick. Wait right here, I won’t be a minute.” he sighs while offering an apologetic glance for the disturbance. Your focus lingers on Kevin as he jogs down the remaining steps of the courthouse to take his call in private.

As you stand alone, your attention focused on Kevin as he takes his call, Donnie lurks in the distance, like a predator stalking its prey. His menacing glare is pinned directly on you as he seizes the opportunity and closes in on you. Only once his rough grip is sending a jolt of pain through your arm, do you realise you’re no longer alone.

“We need us a li’l chat away from all these folk tryna fill your head with bullshit.” Donnie’s menacing drawl growls in your ear, dripping with venom as he roughly hauls you to the secluded side of the courthouse, away from prying eyes.

“That slick-talkin’ lawyers got some nerve wrappin’ his arms ‘round what don’t belong to him, I reckon he’s tryna steal you away from me.” Donnie’s rugged face is inches from yours as he cages you in against the red brick wall. “Now you might think I’m stupid but I ain’t blind to what’s been happenin’. You and that fancy lawyer of yours been fuckin’ for months behind my back, ain’t that right?”

“No, Donnie.” your breath shudders through your quivering voice as your estranged husband intimidatingly looms over you. “You’re wrong.”

“Bullshit, Y/N!” Donnie’s tone is laced with distrust as he narrows his suspicious eyes down at you. “Ain’t no way you’d be divorcin’ me if it weren’t for that son-of-a-bitch tryna lead you astray. He’s the one behind this whole fuckin’ mess, whispering his poison in your ear since the start, ‘cause I know you ain’t got the money for no know-it-all lawyer like him, so somethin’ ain’t adding up right.”

“Donnie, that’s enough. Let her go.” Your heart leaps at the sound of Kevin’s commanding voice breaking through the tense atmosphere.

Donnie’s head whips around in the lawyers direction with thunderous expression. “Mind your business, Lomax. This is between me and my wife.”

“It is my business when someone’s threatening my client.” Kevin stands his ground as he confidently steps between you and Donnie. “Now leave her alone otherwise you’ll leave me no choice but to get the police involved. And I’ll give you this tip for free, Donnie — getting arrested for harassment sure as shit ain’t gonna do your case any favours. So if I were you, I’d be on my way.”

With a huff through his flared nostrils and his chest heaving with rage, Donnie begrudgingly relents and takes a step back. “This ain’t over, you hear me?” he stubbornly reminds you both as he takes leisurely steps back with his chin raised in defiance. “I’ll be damned if I let any man think he can steal what’s mine.”

With one final menacing glare, Donnie storms off towards his pickup truck leaving you trembling against the brick wall as all the tension floods out your body. Kevin’s arms are around you within an instant, offering you the security and care you desperately need.

“Told you he’d slip up, didn’t I?” Kevin’s voice carries a subtle note of triumph as he rests his chin against the top of your head.

˙ ✩°˖🏛️ ⋆｡˚

“Mr. Barksdale, earlier in this trial, you made some rather bold accusations against my client, Mrs. Y/N Barksdale. Accusations of infidelity and deceit. Is that correct?” With a professional tone, Kevin addresses Donnie, who is sitting at the witness stand.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Donnie responds as he shifts uncomfortably, his dark eyes bounce between you and Kevin.

“And yet, despite the seriousness of these accusations, you have provided no evidence to support these claims.” Kevin confidently paces in front of the witness stand but his challenging glare never leaves Donnie. “Meanwhile my client, Mrs. Barksdale has provided the court with medical records documenting incidents of abuse at your hands.”

You notice a subtle twitch on Donnie’s face as he momentarily glances away, a sight you were all too familiar with when he was trying to hold back the anger that was starting to boil beneath the surface.

“Just ‘cause she got some bruises don’t mean I put them there.” Donnie shrugs, triggering an uncomfortable twist in your gut as you watch him so nonchalantly reject accountability for the hell he put you through.

"Mr. Barksdale, the medical records clearly indicate patterns of injury consistent with physical abuse," Kevin rebuts, while maintaining a firm and professional manner. "These are not just 'some bruises.' They are documented evidence of repeated incidents of violence against my client."

"Just 'cause she's got some marks, suddenly it's all my fault?” he scoffs, his voice laced with contempt. “Them injuries could've come from any one of them men she was runnin' around with behind my back.”

“You know, Mr. Barksdale, it's getting rather tiresome hearing about these mysterious lovers of Mrs. Barksdale's that you've yet to prove the existence of.” Kevin rolls his eyes as a note of boredom enters his tone.

Donnie’s jaw clenches tightly as he glares at Kevin, fury burning within the dark shadows of his eyes and his nostrils flaring as he barely maintains his composer. A pulsating vein on the side of his neck displays the rage that is threatening to erupt at any moment. Donnie decides to keep his lips sealed.

“Mr. Barksdale, during your marriage to Mrs. Y/N Barksdale, did you ever exhibit signs of jealousy or possessiveness.” Kevin smoothly continues his cross examination, undeterred by Donnie’s visible signs of anger.

Donnie’s face twitches with irritation as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his darkened gaze briefly flickers in your direction before settling back on Kevin.

“I fail to see how it’s any of your damn business.” Donnie’s voice is twinged with the slightest hint of a growl as his chest starts visibly heaving with his poorly concealed rage.

“Order!” The judge immediately scolds Donnie for the slip of his tongue. “Answer the question, Mr. Barksdale.”

“I reckon every man’s got a right to protect what belongs to him.” Donnie finally admits through thinly veiled irritation.

“Is that what you call it, Mr. Barksdale?” Kevin leans forward slightly, as he steps closer to the witness stand. “Is that what you were doing yesterday, outside this very courthouse, when you forcibly hauled my client out of sight of any potential witnesses and pinned her against a wall with the intention of intimidating her?”

Leaning forward in his seat, Donnie grips the edge of the witness stand until his knuckles turn white. “You got some goddamn nerve twistin’ the truth like that.” his menacing voice rises with fury. “I was tryna have a private conversation with my wife but you can’t resist stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong. You’re nothin’ but a snake in a fancy suit, tryna fill my wife’s head with your poison and steal her away for yourself but I ain’t gonna let you have her. She’s my goddamn wife! Mine! She belongs to me and no ones gonna tell me any different!”

“Order!” once again the judge pipes up with an authoritative tone, trying to control Donnie’s outburst. “Mr. Barksdale, I will not tolerate that kind of hostility in my court! This is your final warning.”

“Your honour, I believe Mr. Barksdale’s temperament speaks for itself,” Kevin calmly addresses the judge in a composed manner. “His outburst here today offers us a glimpse at the mere surface of the ongoing abuse and intimation my client has endured throughout her marriage to Mr. Barksdale. I have no further questions.”

“Mr. Barksdale, you are on thin ice. One more outburst like that, and I will hold you in contempt of court. Do you understand?” The judge turns to Donnie with a disapproving frown after acknowledging Kevin’s statement.

Donnie offers the judge a curt nod, but the his clenched jaw and sneering expression betray the anger that is still running through his veins like boiling hot magma.

As soon as Kevin sits back down beside you, your hand is immediately enveloped by his, the soft touch is a soothing comfort easing the discomfort and tension that still lingers within from Donnie’s outburst.

“You alright?” Kevin whispers, his eyes radiating concern as gives your hand a gentle squeeze, understanding how triggering hearing Donnie’s outburst might have been for you. When you offer him a silent nod, he sends you a wink that you find comforting, as it showcases his ease and confidence. “It’s almost over now.”

˙ ✩°˖🏛️ ⋆｡˚

“After careful consideration of the evidence presented in this case, it is clear to this court that Mrs. Y/N Barksdale has endured significant hardship and abuse at the hands of her husband, Mr. Donnie Barksdale. Therefore, it is the ruling of this court that the divorce petition filed by Mrs. Y/N Barksdale be granted. Additionally, a restraining order shall be issued against Mr. Donnie Barksdale, prohibiting any contact with Mrs. Barksdale or her immediate family. Furthermore, Mr. Donnie Barksdale shall be required to undergo anger management counselling and attend regular check-ins with a court-appointed counsellor to ensure compliance with the terms of this ruling.” As the judge announces the ruling, a wave of overwhelming relief rips through your body. Raising a trembling hand to you mouth you sob into your palm as you look at Kevin, just to make sure you are hearing correctly.

The smile of triumph Kevin’s face is enough to confirm that you weren’t imagining it, as sobs of relief continue to shake through you, Kevin pulls you into his embrace. Leaving a kiss on your forehead, his soft hand gently strokes your back, soothing the overwhelming emotion that has taken over your senses. His comforting clean scent envelopes you as you burrow into the crook of his neck and wrap your own arms around his shoulders.

“Let’s get you outta here.” Kevin whispers in your ear, before he helps you out your seat, a sturdy arm around your waist keeping you steady. Only once your on your feet do you realise Donnie is being restrained by security as his fury filled eyes glare daggers at you full of unrestrained rage and malice.

“You filthy whore! You connivin’ bitch! You think you can just walk away from me?!” Donnie’s thunderous voice echos through the courtroom as he’s held back by two security guards, his body thrashing to escape their unyielding hold. His long hair flying around his face as he spits and snarls like a wild beast. “You’ll never get rid of me! You and that damn fuckin’ snake of a lawyer! I’ll hunt you both down, you fuckin’ hear me?”

Kevin tries to get you away from the commotion as quickly as possible with a protective arm around you, urging you to not look at your now ex-husband as he swiftly ushers you out of the courthouse.

As the sunlight strokes your face, you take a deep breath of the cool breeze that welcomes you like a reprieve, sweeping away any echo of Donnie’s rage that still rung in your ears. You lean into Kevin’s side, grateful for his steady and calm presence beside you.

“You’re free now, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Kevin whispers into your ear with a confident assurance, dismissing the validity of Donnie’s threats. When you lean your head against his shoulder, he cups the nape of your neck before leaving a tender his on your temple.

“I wanna get away from here.” you whisper, as Kevin gently tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze.

“I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.” Kevin promises without any hesitation, “just tell me where.”

Kevin’s promise makes anything seem possible, like no dream is too big and by his side you truly feel like the world is your oyster.

“I’ve always wanted to visit New York…” you look up at Kevin, your eyes over brimming with hope for a new beginning.

“New York it is.” Kevin smiles down at you, mirroring the yearning for an adventure in your eyes and he takes your hand in his and leads you towards his convertible.

⋆｡°✩ note i: in the beginning I kinda wanted to leave Kevin and readers relationship up to interpretation but I think that ending gives away the fact that they’re a little more than just lawyer and client.

⋆｡°✩ note ii: I have an idea for a prequel revolved around how Kevin and reader met and began their affair which I might work on depending on the response to this fic!

#keanu reeves #kevin lomax #kevin lomax x reader #donnie barksdale #donnie barksdale x reader #the devils advocate #the gift #my fics

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izunias-meme-hole · 1 year

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Ganondorf Designs Ranked

(Part 2 here)

Ocarina of Time (Young)

I like the outfit a lot. It compliments his buff body, the armor acts as protection, and some parts of it allow Ganondorf to be more mobile, which if fitting since he’s a theif. Also the Gerudo markings on it complement the outfit very well. However the head seems… off, mostly the hairline. Ah well we only see him with this design three times in the game anyway. 9/10

Ocarina of Time (Timeskip)

AH NOW THAT’S BETTER BY A LONG SHOT! The cape and newer headpiece makes the rest of his outfit seem more regal, while the yellow eyes make him look more demonic! Not to mention his head got fixed! His ears even got pointier in the actual game to further emphasize on how Ganon changed into a demon king! Also, can we please point out the long slicked back red mullet he has? 10/10

Wind Waker

His armor got traded in for some regal robes, he’s still built like a tank, his eyebrows are smaller, and overall he seems less of an open menace compared to before. It’s more subtle now, which is fitting, since Ganon is a defeated king trying to revive his dead empire and restore Hyrule, just to take it over. I also really like the face shape he has. 10/10

Twilight Princess

Regal, powerful, and commanding. Fitting for who Ganondorf it, but WHY is his hair curlled up? WHY can’t his locks flow in the wind? Still, Smash resued this design for a reason. 10/10

Hyrule Warriors

I miss the cape, the Gerudo markings and the black armor on the Twilight Princess design, but DAAMN this is a glow up. The longer hair, and the golden gauntlets make this design for Ganondorf more regal than the Twilight Princess design, and helps it embody a lot more of Ganondorf’s traits. 10/10

Super Smash Bros. Melee

I’m sorry, but the face somehow looks uglier than the OG Young Ganondorf. I like the realistic textures, but a lot about this design feels off. 7/10

Super Smash Bros. Ultimate

This is the Young Ganondorf design with the face shape, headpiece, and cape of the timeskip design. AND IT WORKS. Also the addition of more black and grey on the outfit makes this design as good as the original GOOD OOT Ganondorf design. 10/10

Tears of The Kingdom

A true tribute to a lot of Ganon’s past designs, and he looks more in touch with his Gerudo heritage than before. Also, I like the Wind Waker inspired face shape, the long red hair, and the samurai look. 10/10

Mummydorf (TOLK)

He has the same outfit as his hydrated self, except it’s all torn up. His hair is longer too, and he looks gaunt as hell. Still this was a creepy as hell appearance. 10/10

Demon King Ganondorf

This design embodies what Demise was, but at its core it’s still pretty much Ganondorf. The horns, water-like hair, yellow and black eyes, and gloom/malice robe that’s merged onto his skin all look demonic, but every other feature he had cement that it’s still Ganondorf. 10/10

#ganondorf #ganon #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #ocarina of time #wind waker #hyrule warriors #twilight princess #tears of the kingdom #super smash bros #(one behind the mask) Mun Izunia #Izunia speaks #ramblings #ranking #//Had to get this off my chest

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jackfrombaskinrobbins · 1 year

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being tony stark's daughter would include... (headcanons)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 778

request: yes / no

original request: can you do one where the reader is tony’s daughter and loves to wear fancy stuff like cher from clueless 😭. and instead of being that stereotypical “mean spoiled rich girl”, the reader is actually super sweet and people sometimes take that for granted and use her for her stuff and money?

dynamic: tony stark x stark daughter!reader

characters: reader, tony stark, happy hogan, mention of steve rogers, natasha romanoff, bruce banner, peter parker, harley keener, and miles morales

a/n: ty for the request!! also requests are still open hehe :)

coming soon: clint barton younger sibling headcanons, overprotective avengers when reader has a boyfriend headcanons, hanging at the sanctum sanctorum over break headcanons

taglist: @nutellani

(message me or send an ask if you'd like to be included in the taglist!)

-----------------------✰----------------------

tony stark is an awesome dad.

like he just goes above and beyond to make you smile.

it’s well-known that he spoils everyone at the compound, but since you’re his daughter, he spoils you A LOT.

you’ll come home from school often to find a little box on your bed, and it’s always something you either had mentioned in passing, or something that you didn’t even know you needed.

like you got into crocheting for a little bit. you now have buckets full of multicolored yarns in every texture and color one could ever need!!

also i feel like when you told him your favorite ice cream was the same flavor as his favorite, he literally almost burst with excitement.

and now you ALWAYS have that ice cream.

he even built a little gadget that only lets you and him eat out of it.

the only exception to the rule is happy, as thor painfully found out one day.

he went to have some and it shocked him, but happy just reached in and got it anyway.

also if you’re tony stark’s daughter, i just have to say what an iconic trio you, your dad, and happy are.

like y’all always look so badass with matching shades or whatever.

you got matching shirts for you three for christmas and they both reluctantly wore it.

natasha took like fifteen pictures and steve was literally on the floor dying because he thought it was so funny.

anyways one of the coolest things about being tony stark’s daughter are the gadgets.

for example, you have a lot of clothes. but guess what? you don’t ever have to do laundry.

all of your clothes are put in this special hamper. it washes, dries, and folds/hangs the clothes up for you, then puts them away in a neat fashion.

you have a high tech mirror (ala cher from clueless!!!!) where you can “try on” outfits before you actually retrieve them to wear.

it’s kind of awesome?

jk it IS awesome.

anyways you’re also super smart.

science and math just come easily.

it must be…. in your blood or something.

bruce made that joke once and tony locked him out of the lab. then peter tried to make it too and tony made him go “test” a robot that blocks people out of a room HAHA

that being said, your dad actually lets you in the lab.

ikr? kind of crazy.

you have your own little corner to work on stuff.

also you and bruce are so iconic. i think you would have tea parties every sunday.

tony says it’s “childish” but you can tell he’s jealous

once you caught happy setting up high tea for him and tony but then he told you that you didn’t actually see anything

now, it’s usually a great thing to be tony stark’s daughter

but finding real friends is tough.

there are people who are awesome, like peter parker, harley keener, and miles morales.

but there’s a lot of people who’ll use you to get to your dad or your money.

and yes that sounds stereotypical, but it’s really tough.

there was a group of kids who seemed really excited to go out with you, but then you realized it was all for social media clout and that they expected gifts and stuff.

so you ended up exploding on them, and it gave your dad some bad press.

you were so embarrassed that you locked yourself in your room, refusing to come out.

happy left some tea outside but you didn’t want it.

so then finally tony came in.

guys he’s iron man he can get through a locked door

and you didn’t really want to talk.

so instead he just put on some music.

some really loud guitar music.

and then, with the door still open, tony stark began playing air guitar.

now you knew he would do this sometimes, but not with the door open.

and then he started to SING.

that man cannot sing guys.

needless to say, it gave you a laugh.

he grabbed your hands, pulled you up, and the two of you started dancing around the room, laughing harder than ever before.

when the song ended, he told you he wasn’t mad.

and that people can be losers sometimes

but that you certainly weren’t.

then he said one day he would come up with a loser detector so that you wouldn't have to go through something like that again.

and he was only half joking, so you just laughed.

but deep down, you were happy to have someone who cared for you as much as your dad, tony stark, did.

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buckysgrace · 13 days

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Billy Hargrove Headcanons <3

Requested <3 I hope you enjoy my ramblings!!

Was such a cute baby with lil blonde curls, rosy cheeks and a soft nose that strangers always thought he was a little girl lol

Used to love when his mama would play with his hair. He hated naps as a child, but always passed out once she'd trace her fingertips across his soft cheeks and squishy nose

His mom loved holidays. Especially Halloween and Christmas. He spent many Halloweens dressed as a lion lol

She also took him to get ice cream on his birthdays <3 His favorite was chocolate.

Was really close to his grandma up until she passed away. Used to spend long afternoons and even stay for weekends when he was little, and Neil was working.

Loooooves sports. Has played a vast majority of them (baseball is his favorite). He played a different one each season while in school to get him away from the house

Worked all throughout high school. Had a ton of odd jobs

Also loved summer camp.

Enjoys deep sea fishing. Neil did a lot of trips with him as a sort of “apology” (he caught a bluefin tuna when he was 13 hehe)

He’s very very dry, has a sarcastic sense of humor <3

When he’s high he gets very relaxed and chill, very laid back. Will occasionally get giggly

Very good with his hands. He likes to tinker with things. Worked on his car a lot, likes to build things too (had a very impressive bird house that he built in woodshop)

He loves vegetables. Specifically tomatoes and bell peppers. Bites right into them, a nice lil snack

He's up at 3 in the morning?? He is devouring a jar of pepperoncini. maybe some shredded cheese

Not crazy about sweets, but if he has to pick something it would be some sort of fruit pie?? will also pound away at a pineapple upside down cake

makes a meaaaaan spicy Italian sandwich

Also crazy about protein. He's gotta bulk up ya know. Hates eggs though. They smell terrible and the texture is awful

Really good at math, loves working with numbers. He will chew on his pencil/pen while he's working out a problem (and if he accidentally eats the eraser?? that's his own business smh)

Got a lot of college offers because of his grades and talents in sports but didn't take any of them up. College just never seemed like his thing

Will hike his swimming trunks up to get a nice even tan on his upper thighs. The cutest little tan lines imaginable.

Reads while he sits on the toilet. Also smokes (and will purposely linger in the bathroom if Max knocks on the door smh)

Horror and mystery are his favorite genres. His all time favorite book is The Haunted Dancers.

Surprisingly good with kids. They just love him, sweet Mr. Billy hehe. Babies love at him. They will stare at him and enjoy snuggling into his arms :) And chewing on his arms lmao (or tugging on his hair smh)

Haaates the winter months. He does not like the cold at all and hates bundling up in thick layers even more (he's a man damn it he doesn't need any gloves smh)

Icy roads absolutely terrified him in Hawkins. He was not used to driving on them at all. An incredible snow ball former tho (he will hit you in the face with them rip)

The first time he heard the tornado siren go off he was alone with Max and had no idea what to do (she was outside trying to see it smh)

A little rain is okay but he prefers the sunny sunshine and heat to anything else <3

#billy hargrove #Billy Hargrove Headcannons #Billy Hargrove hc #billy hargrove fanfic #dacre montgomery #stranger things #Billy Hargrove blurb

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shhtickerbook · 3 months

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Hiii since u like hazbin could i get some headcanons for regressed sir pentious he just gives regressor vibes to me thank u

Yes!!!

Little! Sir Pentious Headcanons

• His little age is around 3-5, always up and causing chaos. He loves dressing up and pretend games, but you have to follow the rules! (Which there are many usually)

• Extremely weepy and sensitive, the slightest little comment or criticism can immediately make him burst into tears. Everything needs to go to his routine and if feels like he’s out of control it makes him feel very unstable. I headcanon him as autistic !

• Absolute blankie kid, has an ochre yellow blanket embroidered with little black snakes. Always holding it close and rubbing it against his face. Meaning it can get a little gross over time, there’s a lot of hissing and crying if Charlie or Vaggie try to take it to be cleaned

• Building blocks are his favourite toy! He will spent hours building to his hearts content, buildings, vehicles and airships (obviously) But there’s the odd occasion where a certain little angel finds it extremely fun to knock them down. Which triggers many tears and fights between the both of them.

• Huge sensory seeker!!! He built himself his own sensory wall for his room, lots of things to push, cogs to turn and switches. As well as a selection of different textured panels to run his fingers over.

• Charlie is his favourite caregiver, and she spoils him absolutely rotten. Often follows her around like a shadow, wanting her to come see what he’s built or coloured. But his egg boys also do their bit to care for their master when needed!

Feel free to add your own in replies or RBS!

#agere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel agere #regressor! sir Pentious #little! sir Pentious #agere headcanons #agere hcs #age regression headcanons #age regression #age regressor #age dreaming #agere blog #agere community #sfw agere #safe agere #agere little #sfw interaction only #sfw littlespace

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riftfic · 9 months

Text

14. Human

Who will save you now?

Warnings: strong language, referenced suicide, violence

Featured Characters: Sans, Chara/Frisk (Reader), Flowey/Asriel, Wingdings Gaster, Asgore Dreemurr

Note: If you haven't read the previous chapters recently (maybe even if you have outside the past few days), I recommend giving it another read. It's definitely not a requirement, but I added some extra details throughout the story and a few more scenes, most notably in Chapters 3 & 9, that should help the ending feel even more satisfying.

Several years later . . . here's the next chapter.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

From a single strip at the Underground’s heart, Waterfall tunneled away into a boneyard mess of caves. In one direction, the passage to Hotland sprawled in mushroom-light mazes and a boulder choke disguising Tem Village. In the other, a quiet bubble harbored a simple mouse, neck deep in plans to retrieve a wedge of crystallized cheese. Between them, from a silver door that had only been there sometimes, Sans stepped out into a flood of bioluminescence.

Though a door latched shut behind him, dark, damp stone replaced the surface he reclined against now. Its cold, unyielding texture met his fingertips, a reminder that there would be no second visit.

He clutched the spindly metal bars of that unnaturally gray birdcage. He tucked his chin over the iron rung at its peak, hardly dousing the light of the small monster soul trapped inside.

The task set before him was unconscionable. Even if he managed to survive . . .

“i can’t do that,” he had resisted. “i can’t kill Frisk!”

“They shouldn’t even be alive,” said Wingdings.

The words took Sans by surprise. He set his heels despite the encroaching void and a minute hand nearing his final stroke of midnight.

“oh, but ya want me to take this soul all the way back to asriel, huh?” he said. “make sure he survives? double standard, if y’ask me.”

"I didn't say it was fair,” Wingdings hardly breathed. His eyes gained urgency. “The human . . . might survive, if they're determined enough. But after you pull the lever . . .”

At that, Sans’ anger siphoned away, leaving behind a fear much broader than the fate of one human child. Their mistake had set so many events into motion. Lives had been built and destroyed, paths forged and buried. The machine could rewrite the course of everything as easily as it could leave the butterfly effect intact. They could remain here in the present or be sucked back to the day it all began. With a phenomenon this unpredictable, just about anything could happen . . . but whatever world they left behind, at least it might survive.

“if i do use their soul to run the machine,” Sans said more calmly, “what’ll happen to asriel, then? to me? to the underground? heck, what’ll happen to you?”

It was clear to Sans by the frown on Wingdings’ face that his brother had already considered this question. Despite his ingenuity, the once royal scientist only shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I do know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

In the present, Sans beat his fist against the rock behind him. Why did it have to be so fucking twisted? Why his Frisk? And why did he have to be the one to do it? Maybe it didn’t have to work out like this. Maybe there was more time than Dings thought. Maybe he could find another way.

His phone buzzed rhythmically at his waist. He pulled it from his coat pocket and looked at the screen. The image of Papyrus illuminated those shadowy cavern walls below several missed call notifications. Sans took a deep, shaking breath, then another, and answered.

“pup . . .”

“SANS!” Papyrus shouted. “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR HOURS!”

“oh.”

“I’M NEARLY TO NEW HOME. A FRIEND HAS INFORMED ME THAT THE HUMAN IS IN TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE DANGER! IS THAT TRUE?!”

Sans nearly broke down then and there. Though seeing Wingdings again had restored many of the deeper cracks in his soul, it still felt fragile, even more when considering the path ahead of him.

“more than true,” he whispered.

A patch of silence followed. Sans dropped his cheek to rest on birdcage bars.

“tell me it’s gonna be all right,” he murmured into the receiver.

“Sans . . . where are you?” Papyrus asked, more gently than was typical.

“just tell me, please.”

“It’s . . .” Papyrus sighed. “It is going to be all right. Now, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Hearing the words in his brother’s voice quelled Sans’ fear, enough to return strength to his limbs. He lingered on the phone a moment longer, as if the connection truly placed him at Papyrus’ side.

“meet you there,” he said.

You followed in Asgore’s shadow, watching the folds of his cape sway and collide like cattails in the wind. His silhouette consumed yours. He could hold all of you in one hand, let alone the tiny red soul he sought to claim.

Past the end of that long hallway mirror of the Ruins, the barrier undulated with powerful magic. Its waves of golden white licked the crackled stone as if in search of escapees. It contoured Asgore’s silhouette in a crisp white line as he turned to face you.

That all-too-familiar smile prickled the fur along his muzzle. Looking up into his apologetic eyes, you remembered his hands on your shoulders, his all-encompassing embrace that threatened to lose you in his fur. The macaroni pictures, the crayon drawings, the sweaters . . . the buttercup pie. You shuddered.

“Human,” said the king of all monsters. His powerful voice trembled, and the earth trembled with it. “It was nice meeting you. . . . Goodbye.”

He held his trident firmly in both hands and lowered his head . . . but a stoplight glow kept his chin from falling too far. There you stood, hands outstretched, red soul hovering above your palms.

“I’m the last one,” you said.

Asgore stared at the heart-shaped spirit as if entranced. Its warmth illuminated your fingers with ruby firelight. It was in the crimson glint of your eyes, however, that he became lost, captured in the clutch of a ghost from years long gone.

“Do I . . . know you?” he asked, bewildered both by the situation and the question itself.

“Please, take it,” you said. Tears fell down your face. “It’s no good for anything else.”

Asgore’s eyes widened with recognition. “Chara . . . ?”

Intense heat flared in the hallway behind you. Before Asgore could say anything more, a brilliant ball of flame had launched him into the cavern wall. Flecks of gray stone spat out among a field of clouds.

You swung to face the spellcaster. Toriel stood framed in the doorway, her face scrunched in a scowl like a snarling lion. One smoking arm remained outstretched, clenched in a fist.

“What a miserable creature,” she growled, “torturing such a poor, innocent youth.”

You hadn’t known what path the timeline had taken or whether your friends would convene . . . yet Toriel had arrived, exactly the same as before. Though you may have jokingly called her “mom,” the name now rang through your head with the purity of a windchime in the breeze.

Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus appeared after her, along with a swath of others you had met along the way. You wanted to tell them to turn back, that you did not deserve them, that if they had known the demon you truly were, they never would have wanted to be your friend.

Your color drained. As they approached, a web of vines crawled after them along the dark ceiling and cavern floors.

You ran to Asgore, who sat slumped amid rubble and a brand new hallway door in the shape of his back. He grumbled in discomfort. A layer of dust coated his royal robes and golden mane, which he shook like a dog. You slid to your knees beside him.

“Hurry, please!” you blubbered to the stunned monster king. You proffered your soul as if it were on fire. “There isn’t a lot of time . . . !”

Toriel snatched you back by the shoulders.

“What has come over you, my child?” she demanded. “Do you not know what he means to do with it?”

“Mom, I . . .”

“Frisk.” Her eyes had begun scanning the room in fright. “Where is Sans?”

The path to the barrier gave Sans more difficulty than expected. The last time he had attempted these roads with fewer than two shortcuts, he had been a century younger and taking his time, mushroom hunting with young Papyrus. His limbs lagged behind his will. His breath rattled in his chest. Though his fingers slipped against that birdcage no one remembered, he refused to release its colorless patina bars. Everything depended on this.

He took what natural shortcuts he could—river ferries and elevators—but even then, the trip cost more time than he had bargained. At long last, he had reached the innards of Asgore’s home in the capital. He ran, huffing and puffing, down the golden tiles of the Last Hallway.

Even as he sped past, his heart ached to remember your meeting here. The flare of sunlight on your head, the even brighter smile on your face, the secret passwords on your tongue. . . . The memory of that pure soul compared to the corrupted one he had read beside the rift overwhelmed him, and he paused. He touched a hand to the white pillar that once occluded him.

Who were you now? Frisk? Chara? Both? If Chara truly were your forgotten name, if everything he knew about the tragedy of Asgore’s children had happened to you, such terrible memories weighed down on your tiny shoulders. It did not surprise him, then, that your violence had escalated to remember those horrors. Ferocious thorns had been hiding in the soft petal corona of your soul, and neither of you had known it.

Clinging tightly to the forgotten prison in his hands, he buried his sentiments and tore through vine-swathed hallways into a dark passage. He skidded to a halt just past the silvery stone archway to the barrier, where his bones clattered with shock.

The cavern pulsed in radiant waves like the steady spin of a lighthouse beacon. Twisting, thorny roots filled the cavern like a briar patch, and their position changed with every flash of light. Among the vicious mess of chloroplast, monster figures had been tangled, their souls nearly devoured.

The dimming pinpoints of Sans’ eyes could not peel away from your small form, crumpled on the floor before a yellow flower. Your red soul snapped among his vines, barely shimmering in a ruby remnant before splitting apart into nothing.

Sans could not stifle the horror that clawed its way out his mouth. He nearly dropped the cage.

Flowey turned to grin at him. “Trash day already?” he asked, spinning his head in a full circle.

Sans shook. No. This couldn’t have happened. You couldn’t have fallen to that little heathen daisy so quickly. You couldn’t have lost your determination. If only he hadn’t lingered in the hallway. If only he had kept running . . . !

You blinked at the human soul still hovering in your outstretched hands. It glowed red, though not as brightly as it once did. Still alive. Still yours to give. Not torn to bits by a nihilistic plant.

Only moments ago, you had fallen to a flower, the same flower weaving his way into this chamber of darkness and light. Toriel’s hands rested heavily on your shoulders. Papyrus chattered away, as Asgore pleaded with Toriel to give him a second chance. While they were distracted, Flowey dug his way out of the earth, grinning deviously, ready to spring all over again.

Confusion waltzed with your mind, spinning you gently. You had experienced this rush backward a thousand times before. Just a short step in reverse to let you continue after falling or if you disliked the outcome . . . but you did not have the determination to do it now. You had intended to die. You had meant for one of two creatures to take your power and be done with it.

It hadn’t been you.

The world shifted. Time rushed away like the tide, back into the ocean depths. Darkness bled away into golden sunlit tiles and stained glass windows. Birds chirped among a distant rustle of leaves. The air danced with prisms for a fleeting moment before the world reappeared as it had only moments before.

Sans realized suddenly that he stood in the Last Hallway all over again. A glittering pocket of magic danced like a handheld star beside him, where he had touched the pillar and remembered you. It had not been there before.

Air filled his ribcage in jagged gasps. His soul burned as it usually did when you reset time, though somewhat gentler. His hands shook around the bars of that monochrome birdcage with fear, confusion, and exhilaration.

He had just turned back time. He could feel it. And if that were the case . . .

He ran. He sprinted faster than ever to reach you, but you lay still on the floor again. Though uncertain how, and though it hurt him, he turned back the clock a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Every time, the flower tore apart your soul like a horror movie on repeat, until finally, Sans arrived one split second earlier. Your soul spun a circle above you as if hanging from a string, and a ring of white pellets had only begun readying itself to deliver the killing blow.

Before Sans knew what he was doing, he was charging Flowey through a rough shortcut, foot extended to drop-kick the weed down into his roots. That cursed dandelion’s shriek had never sounded so satisfying. Sans’ dragon skulls had already manifested over his shoulders, jaws aflame—but when they blasted blue-hot magic out their mouths, Flowey had already disappeared into the earth.

A whip of green struck the ground where Sans had stood. He skipped out of the way in the nick of time, then again, and again, and again. He punched his free hand to the ground, and a wave of long, white magic bones crashed down through the air like meteorites. They speared into the cave floor with enough force to run cracks through the ceiling. Clouds of rock sprinkled down onto his shoulders. Flowey’s grip on his friends and family slackened just an inch.

Flowey surfaced again, undamaged beyond a few frayed petals.

Sans panted, his adrenaline quickly plunging. His bones began aching again, though his raging soul burned brightly through its seams. Sweat slipped down his skull into the neck of his shirt. He didn’t know if he could withstand this much longer. He did not know if his soul could survive another time jump.

“Ha,” chirped the little flower. “Looking pretty rough, there, old pal." His eyes glinted red within the skull-like hollows of his face. "Poor, flimsy little monster souls. Why bother trying? Even Chara was no match for me, and they were a million times stronger than you’ll ever be!”

Sans knew he was right. He did not have the full resilience of a purebred human. Even you had to try several times before making it past this bitter herb. Who in their right mind would bet on him: half blind, right arm nearly useless, only one HP? Just like every moment in his life, he would find a way to fuck this up. Just like every other time before, he would be useless to help.

His hope dwindled down, as did the fire in his soul. He could not find the strength to evade the string of bullets shooting toward him, but they were serendipitously blocked by a fence of small white bones.

“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, SANS!” said Papyrus through clenched teeth. “YOU. CAN. WIN!”

“We are here to help you,” said Toriel. “No matter what happens.”

“Statistically it’s impossible,” said Alphys, “b-but you’ve beaten the odds before! I know you can do it!”

“Fuck you, Sans,” said Undyne.

Everyone looked at her. She shrugged.

“Sans,” said Asgore. “Listen to me.”

Sans clung to the bars of the birdcage more tightly, eyes glued to the smirking flower afar.

“You are not just your father’s son,” said the king of the Underground. “You have more than magic running through your veins. Remember that . . . and stay determined!”

Sans’ white pupils snapped to Asgore’s blue and brown at once. The statement had struck him somewhere deep beyond the monster white shell of his soul, and still more words passed between them unspoken. Sans then dragged his gaze across all his friends, who looked back with steadfast confidence, even Undyne.

Flowey coiled down on himself, pretending to be scared. “Urgh, no!” he whimpered. “Unbelievable! This can’t be happening! I can’t possibly withstand all of you . . . you . . . !” His face contorted into his evilest grin. “Idiots.”

His vines snapped taut around every monster, and yet another thorny coil snatched Sans from the ground as well. Through ropes of green and brown, Sans watched your red soul go down the flower’s throat, sealed behind hungry white fangs within a golden crown. Then, everything became lost in a flash of white.

Clang.

Sans moaned. Between that blitz of light and now, he had dropped to his hands and knees. His palms felt scorched—and dreadfully empty. Ahead of him, the last withering wisp of gray silver bars dissipated into the air as if made of smoke. Seeing it clawed the magic away from his bones with every mounting breath. His eyes became hollow.

The cage was gone—really, truly gone. Not even a step backward in time could bring it back, and with it, Asriel’s soul. Sans felt the world bottom out. Had he really failed, after everything?

A voice cackled overhead. “Finally,” it said. “I was so tired of being a flower.”

Sans looked upward and blanched. Aside from a few drawings you had scribbled out as a child, he had never witnessed this ungodly creature of countless souls. Sans had only been consumed by him, a coal block among many to fuel his hate. Now, Asriel Dreemurr hovered overhead in all his glory, raging with deathly power in a kaleidoscope of energy. No wonder you had nightmares.

Past the wreckage of their earlier fight, your body still lay heaped on the floor among stone and dead vines, seemingly asleep. As Sans crawled close, tears threatened to form.

He bit them back. No. He needed to hope. He needed to dream. He needed to be determined that he could call you out from the darkness, just as you had done for him a hundred times. It was his turn, now. Everyone would make it to the other side . . . including Asriel.

“Huh?” Asriel grunted as he caught wind of Sans below. “What are you still doing here? I ate your soul, you dirty lawn bag!”

“grass not,” said Sans as he stood, dusting the dirt from his jacket with his left hand.

“Ugh.” Asriel pinched his muzzle exasperatedly. “So annoying. How many times have you died now? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?” He thrust a rocket’s flare at Sans with a wicked smile. “Thirty-seven?!”

Sans gathered your body into his arms and stepped into a last-minute shortcut, safely away from that raw magical surge. After hiding your figure inside an Asgore-shaped wall hole, he flitted through the blue light of a portal once again. He reappeared in the air, directly in Hyperdeath’s path, only inches from his head.

“bone apétit, fucker,” he said and threw a handful of small bones at Asriel’s face. Though they caused no significant damage, they certainly got his attention.

Sans landed on all fours and scrambled. Bullets, fireballs, shooting stars, and lightning strikes raged after him. They left craters in the ground and drove deeper cracks into the ceiling overhead. Stalactites fell and shattered. Sans dodged every one of them. His body thoughtlessly followed the part of him that knew how to survive but had no time to ask permission, so begged forgiveness instead.

As Asriel Dreemurr took a moment to lift his hands, Sans struggled to catch his breath. His hood smelled of smoldering keratin. Holes had been burned through his sleeves. His body felt slick and ashen against his jacket’s cotton interior. The bones he had tossed like a scoop of dog biscuits into Asriel’s face had been the last magic he could muster. Whatever great power the prince of the Underground gathered now, Sans doubted he could survive it.

The world darkened. Sans could no longer see Asriel or the barrier, not even his hands if he raised them. Everything had become silent except the paddle of his own breath.

A skull three times his size suddenly materialized from the shadow. In appearance, it reminded him of those he and his siblings had mastered, though its horns and features mirrored Asriel instead. It laughed in his face—a grim, bone-chilling sound like grating rocks—but Sans stood firm. Brilliant red rage and determination surfaced among the cracks of his soul. How dare Asriel steal from Papyrus? How dare he turn Sans’ own family magic against him?

Waves of light drew into the open bowels of its snakelike gullet. Debris ran past his ankles, recalling images of a lab in shambles, a brother consumed by a beast of timeless indifference. He braced himself, ready to dive into the darkness as he did then and save the ones that mattered most.

A flash of brightness burst over him once more. This time, it ripped the soul from inside him and shattered it into pieces.

His mind floated through an abyss, bursting with the fireworks of everything at stake. He thought of Papyrus, never seeing sunrise; Toriel, never knowing the love of a new family; Alphys, never seeing the true greatness inside herself; Undyne, never free to explore the world; Asgore, failing his people. He thought of you, swallowed in the belly of the very thing you had sought to save. He thought of the entire world, destroyed by the god of hyperdeath, eaten alive by a hungry rift in time. The pieces of his soul quivered in a glow of crimson, ready to disperse.

*But it refused.

The shards sewed back together. A burst of bright red coursed through him like a new flame that had waited a lifetime to be struck. He had to live. He needed to live. He wanted to live! The darkness faded away, and soon the pulsing light of the barrier greeted his eyes once again.

He gaped at his shaking hands, eye sockets wide with confusion and amazement and, more than anything, determination. His soul felt aflame with a ruby-red blaze that forged the bleeding cracks of every pain, every hardship, and every sorrow into an armor stronger than the thickest alloy.

Asriel’s final form hovered ahead of him. Giant wings had sprouted from his back, flaring with blues, reds, greens, and purples. His teeth bared in needle points to rival Undyne’s, seething with fury and frustration.

“YOU . . . GARBAGE BIN SKELETAL FREAK!” he screamed. “WHY? WHY CAN’T YOU DIE?!”

Sans realized very suddenly he couldn’t move. Asriel’s true power had run rampant through the air, cocooning him in a chrysalis of magic he could not escape. He struggled with no result. With no way to resist, Asriel’s attacks barreled into him again, and again, and again. Every time his brightly burning soul rebuilt itself, a little was lost along the way.

“I can feel it,” Asriel growled with relish. “Every time you die, your grip on this world slips away. Every time you die, your friends forget you a little more. Your life will end here, in a world where no one remembers you.”

Sans thought of Windings, lost in a hell of the same description. He recalled how determined his brother had been to hold that same world together in one piece, forgotten or not. Sans could not fail him again, not here, not now, not after how hard Dings had tried, not when all his hopes were so invested in his success. His brother’s words rang through Sans' head, the last he would speak before the ghost of a gray door had separated them.

“I want you to know,” Wingdings had said, “I believe in you more than I believe in anyone else.”

“heh, yer jus’ tuggin’ my tibia . . .”

“For Tesla’s sake, Sans,” Dings snipped. “Can you just, for a second, let me spoon-feed your imperceptibly minuscule single-cell petri dish of a trait you call your self-esteem?” He took a deep breath and steadied. “I know it might seem like you’re my only option,” he said, “but you’re the best option I could have ever hoped for. My big brother. The one who sticks it out through thick and thin. The one I could always rely on to come through for me. You can do this. You can save everyone. I know you can. So, please . . .

“. . . don’t give up.”

Sans closed his eyes and reached his heart out to Asriel’s amalgamation of souls. His friends and family were there somewhere. He could save them. They believed in him. Dings believed in him. His determination to save everyone bled through the confines of Asriel’s magic, and deep inside that monstrosity, something began to stir.

Darkness closed in and images of his friends materialized, though their faces could not be seen behind swimming, fragmented blurs of pitch. Toriel, Papyrus, Asgore, Alphys, and Undyne stood like statues in a ring around him. Under their breaths, they mumbled their deepest wounds aloud: loss, rejection, loneliness, guilt, and captivity.

Sans stared up at his little brother’s towering silhouette, shaken to see him so reduced.

“hey, puppy . . .” he began. He inched nearer. “‘member me?”

Papyrus did not acknowledge him beyond summoning a few bones, which promptly flew in his direction. They were nothing compared to what Asriel had been punting his way. Sans stood perfectly still to allow a large blue femur to pass harmlessly through his forehead, then teleported behind him. He wrapped his arms around his waist until his face lay cradled in the lower curve of his spine, as if it were fashioned to hold his head.

“is that any way to treat your big bro?” he asked quietly. He searched his head for his worst possible joke and turned to the remaining souls. “uh . . . w-whatcha all starin’ at?” He whipped out a finger gun as nonchalantly as possible. “never metacarpal of skeletons before?”

A long, silent moment passed. Then, Papyrus groaned. So did Undyne. Toriel giggled alongside Alphys with a snort. Asgore only sighed.

Sans beamed, then dodged what he saw as a well-deserved barrage of attacks from all five of his monster friends.

“hey, undies,” he said to Undyne past the quick flash of a blue spear. “i liked the tuna your piano. think you can teach me some scales?”

A similar response. Another wave of dangerous magic.

“knock, knock,” Sans said to Toriel. A hand of fire tried and failed to snatch him off the ground. He brushed off the heat. “i’ll take that as a ‘who’s there’. it’s yer local sentry, sans gaster!”

Toriel mumbled incoherently, but her last words sounded clear: “. . . Sans Gaster who?”

“yeesh,” Sans said, tugging at the neck of his shirt. “and i thought we were friends!”

Toriel laughed, then, revealing her face in a glorious burst of joy. Papyrus groaned more loudly than ever into existence.

“THAT’S ENOUGH BOONDOGGLING, SANS!” he shouted.

“i think you mean bone-doggling.”

“I DO NOT!” Papyrus stomped his foot.

With that, the rest of his friends returned to themselves, holding their stomachs or their heads in laughter. Sans wiped a joyful tear from his eye. By then, Papyrus had swept him off his feet into the tightest hug he could muster, which might have broken a rib were they more than specters. The remaining crew piled in: Toriel, Alphys, Asgore, even Undyne. In that one gesture, Sans’ soul swelled with hopes and dreams and burned brighter than ever.

“You’re d-d-doing great!”

“We’ve got your back, punk.”

“We believe in you.”

“heh . . . i’m rootin’ for me too, i guess,” Sans agreed bashfully.

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT,” Papyrus said, then lifted his eyes over Sans’ shoulder. “ONLY ONE MORE TO GO.”

As he said it, their images dissipated. Sans turned to follow Papyrus’ gaze. Another figure stepped from the shadow, eyes burning red through a shifting black cloud. A blood-red knife glinted in your hand. Your ruby soul quivered in the pit of your chest, a beacon through the dark.

“kiddo,” Sans breathed.

You shambled forward and blindly slashed for his neck. He side-stepped the sloppy cut. Your blade lodged into the unseen ground, so deeply it took a few tries to pry it out. Like a marionette, you lolled about to face him.

“It’s all my fault,” you murmured. “All my fault.”

“that ain’t true,” said Sans. He grimaced and ducked another swing. “you’re a good kid. you’ve always been a good kid.”

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled.

“why?” he asked. “you saved us. you saved me. you gave up your resets for it!”

Your razor-edged swipes and stabs began to falter. “My fault . . .”

“the only thing you’re at fault for is trying too bleedin’ hard.”

Though shaking, you continued to jab and swing your dagger with reckless abandon, and he continued to evade its path with infuriating precision. Whipping air and shuffling feet echoed through the dark as if you fought in an empty chapel.

“c’mon, bud!” Sans panted. Sweat had begun to gather on his forehead. “it’s me, sans!”

“Sans?” you replied in a fog. “Sans is dead. I killed him. It’s my fault.”

“i’m not dead. i’m right here.”

He came close, a breath away. Your knife grazed his cheekbone, revealing a stripe of red that trickled down into his shirt collar. As your arm passed his shoulder, he caught you around the chest and held on tight. He buried his face into your neck.

“i’m right here.”

At this, you froze. You held your knife shakily over his head, prepared to strike down into his back—but you didn’t. Though the black, jagged strokes of paint shifting about your head did not cease, the red of your eyes had dimmed.

“frisk. chara.”

He cradled your hiding face between his hands and looked into your eyes a long, long time. You could feel him reaching through your soul, judging you, reading you from cover to cover like an unlocked diary.

“it’s not your fault.”

As the words sank in, tears sprinkled down from that stormcloud between you, raining over your shoes and his. That dreadful, bloody knife clattered to the ground, and soon you followed. You sat seiza at his feet and clung to his coat, your face no longer shrouded. You sobbed into his t-shirt, broken, yet overjoyed to see him alive.

He hesitated, then slipped his fingers down into the deep brown thatches of your hair.

“You’re really here,” you said, looking up into his face.

Sans crouched down to your level and shrugged. “think so.”

“Am I dead?”

“uh.” He scratched the back of his skull and winced. “ya ain’t in yer body, that much is for sure. hopin’ you might join me on the way back, though . . . if you’d do me the honor.”

You hugged him again, even more tightly than before. Conflicted by memories old and new, shame hooked onto your soul with claws sharper than the dagger at his feet. His hand in your hair was all that kept you solid.

“I’m sorry.” Your tears fell faster as you considered the road leading you here. “I made you fall into the rift . . .”

“that one’s on me,” Sans said. “i knew what i might find down there.”

Your face sombered. “Did you find . . . him?”

Newfound brightness ignited his eyesockets. “he’s . . . alive,” he said quietly. He could scarcely believe the words. “trapped between time and space. it’s just like i thought.”

You were never more relieved to be proven wrong. Still, questions encircled your head like stars. Where was his brother, now? If Sans had gone to that place, how had he returned? How had he survived the rift, and Flowey no less? Was he the one turning back the clock? That should have been impossible.

As you extended a hand to smear the streak of red you had carved into his face, a terrifying thought occurred to you.

“Determination,” you breathed. “Sans, you didn’t—!”

“no,” he said.

“Monsters don’t bleed,” you said firmly in an attempt to call out his bullshit.

“not full-blooded monsters, no,” he agreed.

Several moments passed in which you digested these words, and what they implied.

His smile slowly fell into a grimace, a mix of regret and weary sadness. He sat down in the darkness across you. Here, the two of you were truly alone. He breathed in, breathed out.

“skeletons are kinda hard to come by,” he began hesitantly, “if ya hadn’t noticed. we’re only born under certain circumstances . . . with . . . certain parents.”

He lifted his head to the darkness above as if he might see the sky. A piece of him drifted away into nostalgia on Noctis wings. Bittersweet was the only word you could surface for his expression now.

“hardly look nothing like dad,” he began with a half-hearted shrug. “he was like . . . a dragon made of blue stars, a constellation in a nebula. huge, bigger than asgore. gast clan always was, compared to the dreems. i see him in my magic, though, sometimes. his face in my blasters, even if just the skull.”

You couldn’t find words. Surely he didn’t mean what you thought.

“don’ hardly look like mom, neither,” he said with a partial smile, “but we got her bones. we got her structure. i got some of her determination.”

“You’re half human.”

“i’m all me, thanks,” Sans snipped. Talking about it seemed to crawl over his bones like a spider bake sale.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, genuinely hurt.

He paused and picked at the healing cut on his cheek. He rubbed the red fluid pensively between his thumb and forefingers. “everyone down here knows what it means to be a skeleton,” he said quietly. “i thought you knew too, at first. we all did. a lot of folks thought it was why you shacked up with us instead of tori.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“by the time i realized it . . . honestly, i didn’t know how to tell ya, kid. it's a sensitive subject.” He drew his coat around himself more tightly. “we’re the only ones left, y’know; me and puppy-dog. and dings. when the war started, humans went for families like ours first. papyrus was a bean, dings was just the right age for it to hit him later, and i . . . i remember everything, as always.”

Your guilt ascended all over again.

“we were just kids," he went on, "but nothin’ scared those purist humans more than a fuckin’ mule.”

“i’m sorry,” you said.

“don’t be,” he murmured. “not your fault.”

“But it is,” you insisted. Your tears began rising again. "I’m human. I’m responsible. After everything humans have done—after everything I’ve done—I don’t deserve any of you. I don’t deserve to be here. You shouldn’t have saved me . . .”

Sans gently wiped your face with his sleeve. “lemme finish, kid,” he said quietly. He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, as if releasing a toxin trapped inside his ribcage. “i got a reason to hate humans, sure. they drove us down here. they blocked us in. hell, even monsters gave us a hard time for that half of us. papyrus was so bent on catching a human just to prove what side he was on. thought people might like him more.”

You felt sick.

“but,” Sans said, forcing you to meet his eyes, “my human parent sacrificed everything to save us. she stayed behind so we could get away. so many of us are alive because of her. you wanna tell me that was wrong? you wanna tell me she was responsible for everything that happened to us, just for being human?”

Your tears continued to fall.

“you can’t help where ya came from,” said Sans, “but you can choose where ya go. and boy have you gone to some good places.”

“Like the dump,” you quipped with a faint smile.

“heh, yeah,” he said. “like the dump.” He hung an arm over your shoulder. “so maybe you’ve made some big mistakes . . . but your heart was never in the wrong place. you want to make up for it. you want to be good. that’s what really matters, right?”

You sniffled and nodded. You had said the same to Alphys. Were you really beneath your own advice?

He gathered you into his arms again. After a long time kneeling there, faces in shoulders, he helped you back to your feet.

“gonna need you to step in from here on out,” said Sans. “the chances hyperdoofus listens to me are about a million to negative one.” He smirked. “think you can handle it?”

You took his hand and squeezed.

“Only if you stand there with me,” you said.

His heart swelled in his chest. “i can do that."

Holding onto one another tightly, you stepped out from the darkness into a rainbow of light.

Notes:

And thus we have arrived at my third and final head-cannon: skeletons are what happen when a monster loves a human. I think my nervousness about dropping that bomb contributed to the delay in a latent sense, haha. Sorry for that again.

The idea of skeleton monsters always puzzled me, because in most folklore and fantasy contexts they have a direct tie to humans. Undead, more specifically. But in the context of the Undertale universe, undead didn't sit right with me. Skeleton monsters that conveniently mimic human anatomy didn't either. Then I had this thought. It explained several things for me: the blood from Sans' cut in the no mercy run, the reason he's so powerful, that "fourth wall" breaking tendency he and Papyrus both share... I massaged things some for the narrative here, but yeah.

I had been building to this a little bit as a possible reveal, then considered sidestepping it, but then as I really hammered out my ending it became an essential fact. I added more scenes and details in earlier chapters to get a little more traction on it, hence why I recommended rereading. :) Either way, I hope you find it at least interesting.

Thank you again to everyone who held on until now. Only three chapters left!

Next Up! Chapter 15: Determination.

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