#i’ll draw them doing one anothers eyeliner at some point

[lale-txt]

Raffle Prize: Undercover w/ Law & fem!reader

a/n: 1st prize of my raffle with @mamma-marimo being the lucky winner!! congrats again, my dearest. she requested:

An idea I had in mind is maybe Law and an F!reader (can be Gn if you prefer) are at some sort of costume party or are undercover where they have to go together as partners so it creates that sort of sexual tension with lots of stolen glances? It’s totally up to you of course so feel free to go wild and do what you’d like! I’ll also happily leave it up to you to decide either it’s sfw or nsfw :)

i was SO excited to write for this because the prompt was so fun and it's been a while since i wrote Law. also what can i say? when you said "feel free to go wild", i did and now it's a whole lot longer than the promised 1.5k (￣▽￣*)ゞ i don't think you mind though. hope you enjoy this piece, i had fun writing this!

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns used but terms like "girl" and "queen", reader wears a dress, mention of lace underwear, "cunt" used to describe gentials), ns.fw under the cut, dirty talk, vaginal penetration, breath play, handjobs (reader giving & receiving), oral (reader receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex (no breeding or pregnancy implied), exhibitionism (they're not being caught though), hints of misuse of devil fruit at the very end but nothing descriptive. please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.3k

“So, what do we look like?”

You do a little twirl in your dress, letting the feather coat slip slightly off your shoulders as you strut up and down the lounge in your heels, the half veil covering your nose and mouth fluttering slightly. Law leaned in the door frame behind you, also dressed up from head to toe, wearing his finest suit and a feather coat matching yours and a fake beard you couldn’t talk him out of. Both of you went extra on the golden accessories, including two small crowns, making you king and queen. You also spent a whole hour on your makeup, trying to draw the perfect winged eyeliner until Law lent you the steady hand of a surgeon, mastering it at his very first try. Needless to say that the way he tilted your head in his hands and his golden eyes lingering on you made your heart drum in your chest…

Bepo was on the edge of his seat, holding up his imaginary 10 points sign, his eyes sparkling. Shachi and Penguin didn’t seem to be very impressed, sitting cross legged on the sofa, chins resting on their palms, their eyes following you across the room.

“Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, showstopper, spectacular–” “Hilarious.” “Party theme must be ‘bird farm’.” “You look rich but in a ‘killed my rich ex-husband because he didn’t pay alimonies’ way.” “Starting a petition to get rid of our overalls and get whatever you two have going on here.”

Your captain shuts them all up with a little tsk, taking a step forward so he stands next to you, your shoulders almost touching. As he was twirling his fake beard between his fingers, you noticed there was a determined sparkle in his eyes; you could tell he was excited about the upcoming mission. Your heart skips another beat when your glances meet and he gives you a slight smile – thankfully half of your face was veiled, hiding your blushing cheeks.

“We’ll get that treasure map in no time and will be far gone already when they notice they’ve been robbed. Right, y/n-ya?”

Right. In a room full of high-ranking marines hosting a costume ball, what could go wrong for two wanted pirates, one of them head over heels in love with their captain? Still, you slap hands with him in agreement which is when you notice a detail both of you have overlooked.

“We still need some gloves for you, Law.” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tracing the tattoo of his jolly roger and the letters spelling out DEATH. “Can’t risk someone recognizing you by those.”

Bepo rushes off to get him some gloves while Law’s hand lingers a second too long in yours for it to be an accident, hesitant when he pulls back to smoothen down his suit, coughing slightly. Suddenly your own coat is very interesting, your fingers playing with the hem of it to keep them occupied as if they weren’t tingling from being skin on skin with your captain a few seconds ago.

After discussing the plan one more time (infiltrate the castle where the ball is held, find out which room they keep the treasure map, steal it, run off, success), you’re all settled and Law gives the command to emerge the Polar Tang. 

“Nervous?” He glances over to you, waiting to open the door for you both to step out into the night. You take a deep breath in. “About a few marines? Never.”, you laugh, checking yourself out one last time in a tiny pocket mirror. Marines didn’t scare you. Pretending to be a couple with Law as if you weren’t thinking day in, day out, about what his lips would feel like on yours? Yeah, about that… “Good. I’ll watch out for you anyway. You’re safe with me.” Law smirks as he adjusts your crown, leaning down so you could fix his, too. 

It was a rare sight, him without his signature hat, and you quite enjoyed it. Usually the only times you would see him without it were when he came out of the bathroom late at night, a towel draped around his neck and you would be quick to lower your gaze, trying not to check him out but of course you did anyway – and he knew. He’d mumble your name and you’d stutter out his as you passed each other in the hallway; you peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his broad back, him turning around before he entered his captain quarters, watching you tiptoe around the corner.

You roll your shoulders before you step out into the warm summer night, waving your comrades goodbye before Law uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you both to the shore where your act begins. He holds out his arms for you to link with his and both of you slide effortlessly into the crowd walking towards the brightly lit castle. Despite their costumes you recognize some familiar admirals and for a moment you get nervous, asking yourself if you’re both disguised well enough which is when Law puts his hand on yours, calming you down. He must have noticed your grip tightening around his arm. You exchange quick glances and somehow it’s enough to reassure you that you got this; that you’ll walk out of this together whole and will sail many, many more seas together.

If it wasn’t for all the marines around you, walking up the stairs with Law would feel like a fairy tale coming to life. You did feel very rich and elegant in your evening dress, even more flattered since Law was the one who picked it out when he prepared your mission. Usually he wasn’t the best at disguises but this time he really outdid himself and so far everything went smoothly. Everyone was so busy with themselves that you were barely drawing anybody’s attention, except when you were in the way at the buffet line.

Law and you had decided to wander around between the other guests for a while, trying to overhear conversations of a person bragging about some treasures hidden in this castle. Since the egos of the higher marines were bigger than life it was very likely you would be successful in no time – even though that would also mean that your couple mission would come to an end sooner than you wanted it to be, because admittedly, feeling him this close and acting like lovers felt like a dream coming true.

A live band is playing, guests are talking and laughing loudly, the atmosphere was very loose and lively; everyone here tonight came for a good time. You could see some whispering in secret behind their masquerades, glasses of champagne clinking together, people swaying on the dancefloor with hands wandering sinful places when they thought no one was watching. Meanwhile Law had put his arm around your waist as you wandered around, making sure the two of you didn’t get seperated in the crowd, but also to give you discreet tapping signals when something caught his attention. 

Two taps and you search for his eyes, following them across the room to a group of important looking men huddled together. Another tap and you look over your shoulder, keeping an eye on what was going on behind you. For an outsider the two of you just looked like lovers, clinging to each other, exchanging glances and looking away shyly. You could feel your heart drumming in your chest, his tight grip on your hips making it hard for you to focus. Every now and then Law would lean down to you to whisper his observations in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making it extra hard to focus on anything he was saying. In fact, you started to feel dizzy from the noise, the stuffy air and your crush holding you in his arms. It was all a bit too much at once.

“You look like you could need some air, y/n-ya.”

Law looks at you slightly worried, using his teeth to take off one of his gloves despite you hissing at him not to – even though he looked very enticing doing so. He does it anyway, placing his hand in the back of your exposed neck to feel your temperature. Your eyes flutter wide open, startled from his bare skin on yours and a small gasp escapes your throat, only audible for Law. His golden eyes linger on you for a second and it feels as if he’s reading you like an open book; then he takes your hand without a word in his, guiding you across the room. He grabs a water bottle from the buffet as you’re passing it by and shortly after you step out through the huge open back doors into the garden.

The garden is as opulent as the castle but far quieter than the busy ball room, the music only muffled and only a few other people being outside, smoking, kissing, crying – some everything at once. Law doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both in the shadows of an old tree, hidden from the eyes of others. You pull down your veil and take a deep breath in relief, leaning against the trunk while your captain hands you the water after opening the bottle for you. He musters you up and down and you’re unable to hold his gaze, still flustered from earlier where his lips almost touched your ear and his whispered words set your insides on fire. 

“What’s your diagnosis, doctor? Bad-nerves-syndrome?”, you ask jokingly between two sips, trying to gloss over the fact that your crush on him might be that oblivious.  “Luckily we found a cure for that.”, Law smirks, loosening up a bit now that you’re back to your old self again. Without ever admitting it, he was really worried about you earlier, feeling slightly regretful about dragging you on a mission like that.

He leans next to you against the tree, your shoulders touching and you find yourself scooting slightly closer, the back of your hands brushing. You take another glimpse at him in the safety of the dimly lit garden, admiring his side profile. If only he would lean in for a…

You freeze when he turns his head, looking at you with a grin. Could he read minds? Was this a function of his devil fruit powers you didn’t know about? Wait, was he hearing all of these thoughts now, too? 

“Change of plans, y/n-ya. We’re not going back in there.” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him quizzically. “We got a few clues about the whereabouts of the treasure map, let’s just search every room until we find it.”

And just like that Law takes your hand once again, guiding you deeper into the garden from where you got a good view of the whole building. His hands without the gloves on feel very warm, almost as if they were made for yours only, a perfect fit. Law pulls out a building plan and with all the clues you overheard during the evening you’re able to narrow down the vague whereabouts of the treasure map, giving you a dozen rooms in the upper stories to search. Just like two black cats the two of you blend in with night, sneaking inside the castle again, making your way through the crowd and into the long empty corridors. 

You couldn’t let your guards down just yet. Chances were high that you weren’t the only ones snooping around, it was a marines party after all. Some poor subordinates of the higher ranks would possibly be guarding the door, if not even the whole wing. But still… with Law’s hand in yours nothing felt impossible. You find yourself staring at his back again as you walk behind him, thinking once again what was underneath his big coat as you recall him coming out of the shower. Focus, you command yourself, but granted, it was hard, his close presence making your heart drum so loud in your chest.

Just when you’re about to walk around a corner, Law gestures to you with his index finger pressed to his lips to stay quiet. You could think of another way of how he could shut you up, though…

A few more seconds pass and the voices in the distance are getting quieter again, your sign to start moving as you both steal yourselves into the very first room. The door locks behind you silently. No light was burning, only the bright moonlight flooding through the high-ceiling windows.

“What is this room?”, you whisper, following Law on tiptoes as he walks in the center of it. “Why would one person own this many mirrors and then all store them in one room only? Who needs their private mirror cabinet?”

You both looked around, there were dozens of mirrors in all shapes and sizes arranged across the room, most of them seemed to be very antique and have probably seen various decades of people dancing, crying and falling in love in front of them. And now it was you and him; his golden eyes watching you from every corner, his gaze soft, lovingly almost. Somehow you felt exposed, as if he cut your heart out of your chest and inspected it from every angle, his name written all over it. 

His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer when he stands behind you, his hands slipping the feather coat off your shoulders, revealing the tattooed jolly roger on your back. You remembered the day you got the tattoo, how he cornered you in the morning, asking you if you were really sure about this and how you took his face in your hands and just nodded, your stern eyes leaving no room for doubt. Just like the ink under your skin the feelings for him wouldn’t go anywhere and if you couldn’t love him as a lover, you would love him as your captain, devoting everything you had to him, just to be by his side till the very end.

When he kisses the side of your neck, lips trailing down your shoulders, you hold your breath. If this was a dream, you never wished to never wake up from it. Your coat falls down to the floor with a thud, one of Law’s hands around your neck, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your exposed skin, while his other hand brushes over your arm, giving you shivers. Every inch his lips touch feels like it’s burning, his breath hot on your skin. Thousand kisses plaster your skin through the mirrors, thousand hands wander over your body, thousand hearts drumming in your chest.

“Forgive me, y/n-ya…”, Law mumbles in the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You sink into his hug, watching your figures through the mirrors; a king and a queen dipped in moonlight, love and desire painting their faces. 

“Forgive you for what?” Your voice is merely a whisper. It’s when your eyes meet through the reflections of the mirrors that you know.

Forgive me for falling for you. 

You turn around on tiptoes without leaving his embrace, your faces almost touching. Law’s eyelids flutter when you take his face into your hands, just like you did back then, his skin feeling soft and warm under your fingertips. Both of you knew what was about to happen. It was the crescendo of an intense night, almost as if it had been written in the stars for a very long time before this moment, only the moon and a thousand reflections being your witnesses. 

Your lips find his and you melt into a deep kiss, one that spoke louder than any words could ever have; it’s as if your whole body just sighs in relief, all the tension from before falling off your shoulders and being replaced with an unknown warmth, with the feeling of coming home, with hunger. 

Law has one hand buried in your hair, your bodies pressed together, neither of you daring to pull away. When he gives your hair a slight pull, a hoarse moan escapes your throat, making him chuckle softly before he kisses you again, his tongue slipping in your mouth. Whenever you opened your eyes a bit you could see your sinful reflection, your flushed cheeks, your eyes full of lust, your fingernails digging into his back when he pushes his leg between your thighs for you to grind on it.

You gasp when Law lifts you up with ease and carries you over to a dresser where he sits you down, pushing your legs wide open and you surrender, pulling your dress further up to reveal your soaked panties. He doesn’t touch you, but his eyes alone eat you up from every mirror.

“Such a naughty girl. How long have you been this wet for me?” His hands brush over your knees, fingertips drawing small circles on the inside of your thighs. “Since I took off your coat? Or in the garden already?” 

You whine softly when his grip around your thighs tighten, just as the knot in your stomach does, a familiar feeling begging for sweet release. Your head was spinning but you loved this; the way he ate you up with his gaze alone and the outlines of his cock throbbing in his pants, getting harder with every inch he explored of your body. You buck your hips against his touch, biting your lip when he firmly holds you in place, his strength out of this world. 

“Those desperate mewls coming from your cabin late at night… Are you thinking about me when you hump your pillow?”, he asks with a smirk, leaning over to kiss you hard once more, a thin thread of drool connecting you both when he pulls away. 

You grin as you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down towards his waistband where your fingers linger for a few heartbeats, just like his hands do dangerously close to your dripping wet core.

“I sure do. Do you think of me too when you use my worn panties to masturbate?” Law’s eyes widened for a second. “It’s not like I leave them in the bath by accident when I know you’re going in there after me...”

And just like that Law leans in for another kiss, his lips clashing on yours as he takes your hand and places it on the fat bulge in his pants, grinding it against your palm. At the same time his other hand cups the aching arousal between your thighs, a hum escaping his throat when he finally feels how dripping wet you are for him, rubbing your cunt over the soaked fabric. Tiny shock waves shoot through your body when he starts circling your clit with his thumb, the tease almost being unbearable. 

Even though you wished this high would last forever, you were getting impatient, craving to feel him inside of you, to become one with him. You hastily unzip his pants, wasting no time when you slide them off his hips and watch his hard length bounce free, precum leaking from its tip. You couldn’t wait to be fucked into higher spheres by him. But first…

You slide to the edge of the dresser, lifting your hips to pull off your panties, black lace drenched in your juices. With your legs still spread, revealing your throbbing core, you pull Law in for another kiss, his golden eyes watching every single movement of yours. His soft moans fall broken out of his mouth when you wrap his cock in your panties, rubbing his tip through the lace, stroking him slowly but with a firm grip. 

“Is this how you do it when you’re alone?” You smile against his lips, enjoying how he melted under your touch, his breaths sharp. He nods slowly, seeking your gaze while you continue to squeeze him, speeding up the tempo of your pumps, your fingers brushing his pubic hair whenever your fist strokes down his whole length. You could tell he was about to cum any second, a king on the edge of his own universe; his cum spluttering over the lace and your hands like the milky way. Law leans against your shoulder, breathing heavily when you give his cock a few more slow pumps. 

“Oh my, so messy…”

Almost as if he was in for revenge his fingers touch your folds, spreading them wide open before they dip inside of you, making you moan quietly into his ear. You let go of your soaked panties, dropping them carelessly to the ground so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss. While he fingers you slowly, taking his time to explore you from the inside, you whisper his name over and over and it sounds like a confession, a broken record. 

“More…”, you whine and gasp when he adds a third finger, curling them up slightly and rubbing your g-spot so delicately it makes you want to cum on the spot. Instead you dig your nails deeper into his shoulders, leaning your head in the back of your neck, offering him all of you with your legs spread wide open. He kisses down your jaw and your neck, his tongue swirling over your skin, making you wish he would get on his knees for you. He will, eventually…

It’s when he wraps his other hand around your neck, waiting for you to nod slowly in agreement and then chokes you softly, that your orgasm rushes over you with an unknown intensity; your walls clenching hard around his fingers and tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as you laugh out loud, surprised by how fast the waves crashed down over you. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he fingerfucks you through your high, making you cry and chuckle at the same time until your legs slowly stop trembling and you catch your breath again. 

Law lets go of your throat and wipes away your tears, kissing your face before he licks your juices off his fingers with delight, grinning when you take his hand and pull it towards you, your tongue swirling around his fingers. He was hard again, his cock rubbing teasingly between your folds, your hot core aching for him. It still felt very much like a fever dream and you weren’t planning to wake up anytime soon. You slide off the dresser, your bodies pressed against each other. With a hand on his chest you’re pushing him back down gently, making him sit where your coat fell to the floor earlier, then you crawl into his lap, your dress still pulled up to your hips as you start grinding on his hard length.

Soft moans of yours fall into his open mouth, your foreheads pressed against each other as you exchange more deep glances, just like you did hours before; all leading to this moment. You feel like you could get drunk in his eyes, the brown speckle in his gold, your very own sun, soaking you up. You can feel his tip rubbing at your core, asking you for permission with his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s safe”, you mumble and smile when Law grabs you by your hips, guiding you down slowly onto his cock. His fingers were nothing compared to the sensation of him stretching your tight entrance open little by little; you’re both taking your time, breathing heavily between a dozen kisses until you’ve taken him all in, thankful you were sitting down or else your legs would have probably given in from the intense feeling of him filling you up. Then he starts moving and through the mirrors you can see him fucking you from every angle, his cock thrusting relentlessly inside of you.

Being on top gives you the upper hand, commanding the tempo you’re bouncing up and down him, supported by his hands digging into the flesh of your ass. You’ve dreamt about this moment countless times and nothing could have prepared you for how amazing it felt becoming one with the one you loved the most. When Law starts circling your nipples with his tongue over the thin fabric of your dress, you can feel another orgasm building up inside of you, his stern gaze on you making you feel feral. You slide down the straps of your dress, letting him greedily pull it down so he can suck on your nippels in all their glory, his tongue fluttering over them, making them stand up under his touch.

Just when you were about to wail out Law’s name as you fell apart under his cock, you could hear footsteps and voices from the other side of the door. Fear shoots through your veins and it only takes a quick glance between Law and you for him to know what to do. The massive door gets pushed open the same second he uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you into the darkest corner of the room, where no moonlight touched the ground and massive mirrors blocked the view. Heavy boots step into the room, flashlights being pointed at the mirrors and sending beams of light against every wall.

Your captain is covering your mouth with one hand, his cock still buried deep inside of you, in the same position you were before he used his abilities to escape the marine guards doing their inspection round. It were at least three of them, discussing if they heard voices coming from inside and joking about how useless this room was, that only fucking in front of the mirrors would give it a real purpose. Your heart was beating heavy in your chest, the adrenaline rush making your head feel dizzy. You can’t make out Law’s face in the dark but you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, even more than before. Without thinking you start moving your hips again, slowly, the risk of getting caught fucking making you so dripping wet, your juices running down the insides of your thighs. 

Law was holding his breath, unable to resist your greedy movements and he bites down your neck, trying to muffle his own moans. When you hear the footsteps coming closer in your direction, your walls clench hard around his cock, more tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as Law still holds your mouth shut, your drool dripping down his fingers. The thought of getting caught, of being exposed like that, almost pushed you over the edge of another orgasm, your fingers drawing circles on your plump clit, unable to stop. You can hear Law hissing out your name for your ears only as your tight walls contract around him erratically. 

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps wander off again, the marines talking about ghosts in this old building and how you could hear voices often, and then the door shuts closed behind them again, leaving the two of you alone again. Law and you hold still for a few heartbeats, then something snaps just in both of you. Your voice is hoarse when you whimper his name while he flips you on your back, forcing your legs wide apart as he keeps thrusting inside of you so hard and relentlessly, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His hand slid down from your mouth to your throat again, choking you softly while he was seeking the warmth of your cunt, burying himself so deep inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“Maybe I should have fucked you right away in that ball room, since you seem to enjoy an audience so much…”, Law huffs and laughs softly when you squeeze him tight in return, the thought alone making your head spin. “Showing everyone how well your greedy cunt can take my cock, you like that?”

You nod as you bite your lip, putting your hand on his to signal him to choke you harder until you could see tiny stars dancing in front of your eyes, and then there’s a whole universe erupting inside of you as you come undone, an orgasm like you never had before ripping through your body, sending shooting stars through every vein. You hear Law cursing as he pounds inside of you a few more times before he also cums with his whole body trembling, shooting his thick load inside of you. He lets go of your throat and leans down to kiss you hard as both of you still shake from your climax, your bodies tangled up. With your legs wrapped around his hips you ask him to stay like this a little longer, exchanging soft kisses as if he didn’t just rail you into another sphere. You smile when he brushes your hair out of your face, looking at you with kind eyes, so full of love.

You hum when you can feel his warm load running down your thighs, leaving a small puddle where you just laid. Law helps you stand up, your legs still a bit shaky from the adrenaline and your orgasms and you’re grateful for Law wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You rest your face against his chest, hearing his heart drum in his chest, a sound so soothing you can’t help but close your eyes. Until you remember–

“Shit! Law! The treasure map!”

Damn. All those horny thoughts have completely blocked out your mission, the one and only why you came here in the first place. How many more rooms did you have to search? And would he possibly go down on you in one of them? Would he fill up your other holes, too? Focus, you gotta focus… Law chuckles, looking at you with a triumphant smile. He reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, ruffling around for dramatic effect and pulls out a rolled piece of old paper, wrapped with a red seal. Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re at loss for words. When? How…?

“One of those marine dogs from earlier had it in his pocket. Guess they didn’t think someone with my devil fruit powers would show up and just switch it out with a candy wrapper.”

“You… you did all of that while fucking me? Balls deep inside of me?”, you ask flabbergasted, trying to comprehend what you just learned. Law nods and laughs when you grab him by his collar, letting you pull him into another kiss. “You’re so hot and clever, attaboy…”

In the end making it out of the castle was much harder than sneaking in – Law and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other; you went for another round in front of the mirrors with your legs in the air as he ate you out like a starved man, his tongue dipping inside of you from every reflection and you explored another room together that had chains hanging from it’s ceiling and in the very end Law made his promise of fucking you in the ballroom in front of everyone true in his own way, with a little help of his devil fruit powers… both of you walking out of the castle, your crowns askew and with love bites everywhere, his cum dripping out of you with your panties still in the mirror room, hand in hand, king and queen.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece reader insert #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #trafalgar d. water law #lale 1.5k raffle #purethoughts.exe has stopped working

[hazmatazz]

it’s me again :D

man i love the angst too!! and i could theoretically just draw them for you. but 1. i’m too lazy rn and 2. id have to go off anon and i love the mysteriousness hehe i feel like a secret agent whenever i’m on anon

SO :D first of all, they’re both afab and 15 years old

imma start with floryn!! she’s 1.58m tall, her skin tone is a darker sienna (a medium brown, idk how to describe it) she has an hourglass body type but is kinda chubby, her hair is dark brown and curly (hair type 2C if we wanna get rlly specific) and around shoulder-length. she usually wears it half down and the other half in a messy kinda bun. her eyes are pretty round (my art style is more on the cartoony side, not sure how it would look irl) and also brown. her eyebrows are pretty thick and dark as well. she doesn’t use a lotta makeup but sometimes draws a heart or star on her cheek with colorful eyeliner :D she usually wears dresses or skirts with cardigans or tank tops depending on the weather. and she prefers shoulder-less sleeves that are either a bit puffy or loose. if that makes sense?? the skirts are mostly around knee length and she always wears sneakers that are mostly white with different pastel colored accents. her clothes are always very colorful and she has dresses in genuinely every color of the rainbow, some pastel ones, some brighter ones, just no dark colors. she loves wearing all of them, although her fav color is orange <3

imma just hope i didn’t forget anything and move on to rory :D her skin tone is ivory and her face always has a visible light blush. and whenever she actually gets embarrassed or something her whole face goes red and it’s very cute tbh. her body shape is either the rectangle or inverted triangle one, i’m not 100% sure yet & she’s pretty muscular. in my style her eyes are more rectangular?? kinda like this shape ♦️but horizontal if you know what i mean? they’re blue & her eye brows are more round. her hair is wavy (hair type 2A maybe), around armpit length and a warm blond (pantone 4655 but a bit warmer, i’ve been searching for the perfect color for like five minutes and i give up) and at some point later in the story, once she gets more confident, she dyes her hair tips a light blue color!! her go-to hairstyle is usually a high ponytail. she usually wears jeans or corduroy pants and on warmer days she often wears bermuda shorts. she mostly wears crop tops but also tank tops and sleeveless shirts. when it’s colder she wears button-up shirts with long sleeves. she doesn’t HATE skirts but you’ll very rarely see her wearing one, usually it’s jean shorts and crop top :] her color palette isn’t that colorful, usually blue with accents of brown, grey, white and/or black but she has a few tops in other colors too. she definitely wears dark blue converse and those tennis socks with two colored stripes at the top

i have no idea if that was detailed enough, if you’d like to know anything else feel free to ask :D also if you have any questions abt their story or them as characters apart from their physical appearance, i just love rambling about them <3

i haven’t described their personalities in detail yet i think so maybe i’ll do that in another ask but my phone battery is running out aksbkajdkja

and i love florora tbh that sounds so magical <3

✨

!!! they sound absolutely adorable!!! idk why but i was imagining rory to be like a redhead with a boyish cut and straight hair?? like that one girl from that "arcane legends" show or whatevr. but her with long blond hair also soumds adorable!! esp with round eyebrows as i'm imagining

ohh and their clothing styles <3<3<3 ehegehgtjehr rory does seem like the kid to wear sleeveless shirts and button ups snsbksebkshs. and flora!! she gives me very soft warm color vibes so i can see it!!!

and ohh w the little heart on the cheek <3 i think rory would absolutely stare at that

also flo's 5'2 :D??? awee little friend :33333

#asks #ask box story #char sent me some calming music so now i'm sleepy again so this answer isn't as long as i expected </3 #✨️ anon

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Ohhh Thank you for askin! I’ll give the three main kids! General warning for spoilers (HW, ShB, and EW just in case), a little more so for Anthea given their race.

(Lady) Siberite Akagane - WoL First String

She will have some loose gil (becomes more post EW as now she’s expected to contribute since she’s the richest of all the Scions now), a lipstick or lip gloss, sometimes eyeliner, hair ties galore, a smaller more sturdy vial of her favorite perfume, maybe a snack someone else gave her, and the occasional flower or pretty rock. Rings and earrings will find their way into her pockets also depending on how she feels the fighting is gonna go.

Not in her pockets but with her always: a purse with eye shadow, a brush, toothbrush, and ten big value Nymia coins sewn into the bottom (part of her dowry because her mother is convinced she will need it for an emergency at some point), and the first gift from Thancred which was her favorite perfume she couldn’t find in Ul’dah because she didn’t have the money for it as it could only be found in Thavnair unless you had the coin. It’s empty now of perfume but she’s placed a little purple flower corsage left on the ground after the fight with Emet-Selch.

Demos Reyes - WoL Second String

This man will have pencils, graphite and charcoal sticks, a blender, some wood chips, a small bag of dirt, a small sketchbook, lighter colored rocks, a pocket knife, a hammer sometimes, small whetstone, a few bullets, a half finished wood whittling piece, and some pressed flowers or leaves.

Not in his pockets but on his person: more pencils and charcoal, paints, bigger sketchbooks and journals, jars of leaves and sticks and flowers that he wants to draw later, some healing potions and herbs, tea, paint brushes, a few more whetstones and other smaller blacksmithing tools, one or two more wood whittling projects, and a magically imbued sketchbook where he draws pristine portraits of those they’ve met that have left an impact. Each one has a signature and a quote of some kind. Since it started after Haurchefant’s death some do not have signatures but he’s written quotes for them that made a mark. The ideal is to have the person themselves write out something they want him to remember and then sign it. Many other sketchbooks have practice ones because he really wants to capture a person with those portraits.

Anthea - Former Elpis Researcher and eventual Moon Watcher

Petals and bloom galore! It’s almost like confetti sometimes. They also will have concept crystals, a map of Amaurot with the best hiding and peaceful places in the city courtesy of one Emet-Selch. Little snacks to bring to their best boys (Hyth and Emet), and a little mandragora to hide around the house because yes they are still salty after all these years about the spriggans in Elpis and it makes Hyth feel some kind of way finding yet another one in the house (think like the people that buy tiny little chicks or ducks).

Anthea doesn’t have much on their person with most often there being a flower chain (it will become a flower crown or necklace or bracelet or whatever else they feel like that day) or little corsages as they gift them to their friends often, with Emet getting the corsages more because it’s a bit uncouth for a Convocation member to wear such things as a flower crown in the office.

#siberite akagane oc #demos reyes oc #anthea oc #endwalker spoilers #ish just in case #siberite chara ask #demos chara ask #anthea chara ask #siberite headcanon #demos headcanon #anthea headcanons

[ourabora]

again, my headcanon is a lil different but i saw a txt post and was like, could yOu iMagINE???

colors by @taintedtiggs

#fnaf sb #glamrock bonnie #montgomery gator #2 tags are for monty cuz i dunno how ppl tag him hahah #glamrock monty #i headcanon that bonnie was montys 1st friend and picked up a lot of cues from him at first #but then the accident happened and he just kind of developed his own persona in the aftermath #love love love #i’ll draw them doing one anothers eyeliner at some point #this will also be colored eventually yaaay #fanart

[after-witch]

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

 A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on. 

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on  your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side.  You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you.  He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding. 

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness. 

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight,  you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

**

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere #afterwitch writes

[beann-e]

inspiration from the tiktok audio “ I don’t love you i’m just passing the time “

This was never about you. Honestly you were surprised it took you so long to notice.

No that was a lie you weren’t surprised because it was his fault he never told you flat out that he wasn’t expecting much from you. It’s not that he wasn’t interested he just — he didn’t know what to do. Of course he thought you were beautiful and that’s what scared him but at the same time gave him the energy to talk to you.

His personality was known for leading him to talk to beautiful people.

He was sure he’d never date you because, his heart belonged to kiyoko .

No one could ever top her or at least that’s what he thought until you came along. Here you were in all your beauty putting anyone else to shame that dared to stand next to you.

You were perfect for him and after a couple months you were all his. He adored you even after highschool when you two finally decided to move in together.

he told you every day how much he loved you. His love even trickling down to his actions when he would ask you to do couple things appearing out of no where with a request

‘ y/n how about black hair dye huh ? wanna try something new together i’ll color my hair too ! ‘

you instantly agreeing to every ask all of them ranging from

‘ hey y/n , have you always been able to see? are you sure because you were squinting just awhile ago we can get you glasses I mean I don’t care about price if it’s for you —no no I think we should—let’s do black square rims ? i think they would fit your pretty face ‘

to

‘ babe when you do your makeup this time try some face designs their so cool I see them all the time on my instagram here — can I try ‘ him smiling before sitting next to you and guiding the eyeliner out of your reluctant hand a tight smile drawn across your face

Him smiling when you turned to the mirror to see a small black dot next to your lips. ‘ you look so pretty with it ‘

You hadn’t noticed until the volleyball reunion when you sat in a circle with all the old members and tsukishimas mouth spilling out his harsh words unbothered by your reaction “ why the hell do we have two kiyokos now? “

his glasses moving down on his nose as he spoke again “ y/n i’m sure we only need one I personally prefer the original she looks more “ his head tilted as his eyes ran over your new look “ natural“

“ yeah I was actually wondering that but I didn’t wanna bring it up first I um y/n are you trying to look like kiyoko or “

your small cough coming out and drawing all the attention back to you as you felt the same woman turn to face you her own eyes now seeing what the others were talking about “ of — of course not I — “

“ eh what the fuck “ your boyfriends voice coming out loudly as he now sat pissed off with the group “ are you pricks trying to say I couldn’t get over kiyoko or some shit “

“ what what no tanaka-san we “ sugawaras voice coming out to try to let the tension fizzle out

“ no because I’m feeling like there’s something being unsaid here“ he grunted “ if anyone has anything else to say badly about my s/o then they should just fuck off “

“ tanaka “ you screamed

“ no i’m tired of people thinking I can’t get shimizu out of my head I can —I can and I will “

“ y-you will ? “

“ I mean I have “ his eyes locked with yours as he spoke low “ I have “

The room grew quiet as he stood the chair he sat in being pushed back as he walked off you standing up too offering a small smile to everyone in the circle “ sorry if you’ll excuse me “

“ your good—I think he needs you a little bit more than we do right now“ daichis voice came out a bit more concerned than he wanted it too

Your figure being seen getting smaller and smaller as you ran after your boyfriend to the kitchen grabbing his arm loosely “ babe I “

“ let go y/n “

“ but I — tanaka what’s up why are you acting like this “

“ I said let the fuck go y/n “ his voice boomed as he yanked his arm from you your body moving back a little due to the strength he’d pulled it back with “ i’m going to go get a drink I can’t handle those assholes alone “

“ your — you’re not alone tanaka i’m with you ill handle them with you “

A smile slowly spreading across your face when he stopped moving only to turn over his shoulder biting his lip as he stood thinking to himself his hand pointing to the kitchen “ for some reason that only makes me need a drink even more “

You nodded softly as he rolled his eyes at you “ you do understand correct ? “

“ yeah yeah no of course “ you smiled tightly as he walked off and you walked back to the crowded living room trying to contain your tears that wanted to spill so badly usually when he acted like this he’d drink himself to sleep.

You sat down on the floor letting yourself join the huddle as everyone spoke you getting lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t often that this happened but when it did it never went the way you would want it to. He would always get distant instead of becoming clingy like you would rather. He’d become meaner with his words instead of thinking of you before speaking like he usually would.

“ prick only ever thinking of himself —a stupid child“ you whispered out thinking of your boyfriend and his future actions that you could already predict

“ yeah shoyos gotta be— the asshole requested it “ kageyama whispered to you as you turned to see hinata sitting across from you waving to you when he met your gaze making you speak softly with a smile “ sweet “

“ hey y/n wanna play dare or dare with us ? “

you shook your head laughing a bit “ what are we teenagers again“ you laughed a bit louder “ but no i’ll — i’ll pass “

“ aw come on your the only other chick here besides kiyoko “

“ no no no you guys go ahead i’ll just watch “

everyone sighed as they began the game you hearing loud steps pound through the house as your boyfriends loud voice cut through the laughter “ what you pricks started without me “

“ yeah uh just join tanaka- san “

“ fuck yeah “ he wobbled over to sit next to daichi not locking eyes with you only smiling at everyone around the table taking a long swig of the liquor bottle he’d sat on the table in his adventure over.

The air that was once tense seemed to calm down as everyone started drinking and suggesting dares. You smiling as you looked at everyone this had to be the best night of your life finally getting to see all your friends again after kageayma and hinata traveled non stop and everyone else never had the time to have a party.

You patted yourself on the back seeing everyone having such a good night.

“ ok ok last dare “ nishinoya burped out as he shakily raised his hand already drunk off his ass his words sluring as he spoke “ I dare tanaka—san to “ he took another gulp from the bottle only to push it aside and open the new one that laid dormant between the two of you “ to kiss the prettiest person in the room “

Everyones eyes widening as they all broke out into a laughing fit “ fucking nishinoyas so stupid “

“ this asshole just wasted a dare on an obvious answer “

hinata rubbing the said males back as his head finally dropped to the table cheek hitting the brown table as he laughed “ ha yeah sure ‘m stupid —real stupid “

he smiled drunkenly laughing at the tables comments “ haha its obviously not that obvious “

Your heart dropped smile only following as you looked from nishinoyas eyes to the scene playing in front of you. Your boyfriends lips locked on another pair that weren’t your own. His hands coming up to the back of her head to push her closer to him as he hungrily pressed his lips onto hers

Her eyes wide as his were closed almost like he was enjoying this “ what “ you whispered out as a rough hand came in contact with tanakas shoulder grabbing it and pulling him back

“ what the fuck you asshole “ tsukishimas voice was threatening as he stared down on the male genuinely confused “ what the hell do you think your doing “

“ hey blondy is that anyway to speak to someone older than you“ he scoffed “ mind your manners child “

“ mind— mind your manners? “ your voice was short and quiet as your eyes darted around the room eyes blinking back the surprise they held as everyone turned to face you only making this deepening pit in your stomach grow.

“ why— tanaka— san why would you do that “

“ what — whatd I do this time suga huh — first it was having a crush on kiyoko everyone was screaming how I wouldn’t get her ha “ he scoffed “ fucking assholes were right so here I am with a fucking backup “

He shook his head as he leaned it back to stare up at the ceiling “ shitty arts and crafts project of building her because I couldn’t have the original — fucking sad “

your heart broke “ sitting here pretending kissing y/n is the same as kissing kiyoko — hell I didn’t even wanna kiss y/n right now i wanted to kiss kiy— “

“ shitty asshole you just did “ tsukishimas voice raised his eyes holding the anger you couldn’t even hold for yourself “ you just did right in front of your s/o “

“ well with them looking the same how the fuck was I suppose to tell “ he laughed “ that’s what you said earlier right ? so what’s so wrong with me enforcing it ? “ he scoffed “ everyone already believed it right so why the fuck does it matter they look the same, act the same , talk the fucking same so in the end I kissed y/n right— ha “

your body hurt just like your heart and your brain was spinning “ why would you — why would you date me tanaka if you didn’t want me “

“ did it look like I was gonna get kiyoko anytime soon — your a ditz — the whole time i’m doing this to get over her and you just became her “

you sat silently blinking back the tears that you held throat holding a sob that wanted to make its way out “ get the fuck out “

“ excuse m—”

“ GET THE FUCK OUT “ you screamed your tears disappearing and turning into anger “ get out get out get out “ you screamed hands reaching out to punch him over the table as you repeated the phrase

“ ok— ok stop stop “

“ no no no get the fuck out I paid for this I paid I paid “ you screaming like a child throwing a tantrum in a supermarket him only moving to stand and walk to the bedroom drunkenly to grab his clothes “ just let me grab my stuff i’ll be out of your hair for the night “

you raged as he made his way into your once shared bedroom forgetting the living room full of people as you ran after him to rip the clothes out of his hand that he held. All the items you’d bought with your hard earned money. The shoes you’d spent over 50$ on for his birthday in his hand along with the limited edition shirt you’d bought for him after he begged for it screaming that was his favorite player.

The items that you’d stayed up four hours for the night of just to buy it for him with your paycheck that week. Your thoughts only making you more upset when you thought back to everything you’d done for the male and the stuff he’d done for y—

he’d done absolutely nothing for you in this whole relationship and this only pissed you off more at the thought

Your heart broke again when you noticed you were already screaming at him again “ get the hell out “

“ i’m going fuck y/n “

“ go faster asshole “

“ what so no clothes ? “ he laughed “ come on that’s pretty harsh —baby it’s cold out give me a jacket or something at least until morning when I come back home “

“ morning “ you scoffed “ you’ll need a jacket for awhile tanaka because your not coming back in my house so freeze your ass off out there or go with your high school crush and her husband “

His once smiling face turning into an angry one as he stepped closer to you the alcohol spilling from his breath and onto your face as he stared down at you “ the fuck are you bringing that up for “

“ your the one who went around kissing a married woman “ you were gonna rub this all in his face. You couldn’t wait until kiyokos husband beat up the drunken deadbeat in front of you.

“I thought it was you “

“ yeah sure after you gave me a makeover to look like her i’m sure you did tanaka “

“ so fucking ungrateful “

“ oh now i’m ungrateful “

“ yeah you are “ his voice got louder as he pointed between you and him “ I made you into the woman I love — the perfect woman you should be on your knees thanking me right now “

“ aw should I “ you sighed “ god what’s wrong with me “

“ exactly now give me my stuff back i’m going to bed this is fucking with my head ’m drunk and I wanna bask in it for a minute — maybe forget you just tried to kick me out so I don’t get on your ass in the morning “

“ yeah of course babe you need your rest “ you nodded as he walked towards your door to pick up where you’d thrown his clothes only for you run and jump on his back arms wrapping around his neck your legs wrapping around his torso “ i’m gonna kill you— you asshole “

“ what the fuck “

“ then i’m gonna lock your body in my fucking freezer or even have daichi fake an arrest you prick— you’ve made my life a living hell — and now you wanna sleep— in my house “

You weren’t sure how he ended up leaving all you knew is that your heart seriously broke when you finally locked the door and rested your forehead against it. Tears spilling from your eyes for the first time that night. You’d gone crazy you had to have because just a few hours ago you almost choked the male to death after jumping on his back like a pro wrestler you were really going crazy

Your body relaxed as you felt a warmth make it’s way over to you only for it to tense when a familiar hand caressed your back and tried to lift your upper body up and away from the floor you’d fell onto sometime that night “ come on y/n —at least let me help you to the couch “ a sigh made it’s way through the house “ I promise you can wallow in your shitty tear soaked shirt after I make sure your comfortable and not hurting “

a cough quickly followed “ physically that is — this shits gotta hurt emotionally “

Your words coming out in a slurred whine like a child “ but it’s dirty — it needs to be cleaned “

“ would I tell you to go sit down if it wasn’t “ he spit back as he finally got you to fall into his chest after leading you over to the couch turning off the hallway light and leaving the lamp next to the couch on.

Him sighing out and shifting uncomfortably as you cried into his shirt causing him to need to distract himself from the crying woman in his arms. How the hell did he end up the nice one in this situation

Why did he push everyone out the house? He could’ve left hell he could’ve copied nishinoya and stolen the leftover four liquor bottles you had laid out on the table before everything happened

he wasn’t a comforting person so why would he shoo everyone else that could’ve helped you away?

he scoffed as he tried to fiddle with his sleeves only to take off his glasses and clean them over and over again

“ how many times are you gonna clean them “ you sniffled into his chest

“ until you finish acting like a baby — I feel like I have a kid ? Like i’m a parent I mean what do parents do” his hand softly came down on your head to pet your hair softly unsure why to do in this situation “ I uh— do you want warm milk ? chocolate or strawberry or is it my baby’s bedtime ? “

“ shut up tsuki “ he laughed as he felt you snuggle up closer to him “ so why are you — of all people —the only one that stayed everyone else must think i’m crazy or something “

“ eh I mean they already thought you were we were making bets before we walked in here on what you’d changed this time to look like kiyoko “

you slapping his arm softly before laughing “ god do I really look like her “

His once stoic face grew sad as his eyes ran over your facial features his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down on you “ yeah — yeah you really do — that crazy asshole “ he shook his head hand reaching out to touch your hair again feeling how burned it was from constantly flat ironing it and curling it like tanaka wanted “ god what did he do to you “

“ build a y/n “ you laughed as he stood up his own words following quickly after yours “ come on “

“ what “ you said as you stared at his open outstretched hand “ what’s going on “

“ let’s go “ you shook your head no “ look do you wanna change back or no “

You swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding slowly and taking his hand to travel with him to the bathroom. Him speaking to you softly only loud enough for you to try and figure out some of the words you couldn’t.

“ for some reason I miss old y/n — and I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing em’ again preferably across the table from me in a booth at 2:30 saturday with strawberry cake in front us? “

#tanaka x y/n #tanaka x reader #haikyuu tanaka #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka x you #tanaka angst #tanaka headcanons #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima hcs #tsukishima headcanons #hq tsukishima #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima angst #nishinoya hcs #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu hinata #kageyama #daichi x you #sugawara koushi #sugawara drabble

[tetsurobunni]

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #fanfic #suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna rinatro #suna x you #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader

[corpsedaydream]

not such a merry christmas

corpse husband x reader

-

hi hi so it’s 4:20am lmao i’m not kidding

so i know i said i wasn’t going to be on over christmas but christmas wrapped up late for me and i wasn’t ready to sleep and i just started writing and this is what came of it. i know that christmas isn’t always exactly a happy time for everyone bc family and holidays can be complicated sometimes. so if ur struggling or experiencing anything negative or just not rly enjoying christmas. this ones for u friend and i’m sending love ur way

word count: 2085

_______________________________

You had mixed feelings about this time of year.

The holidays.

On one hand, it meant you had some free time to enjoy some quality time with your nearest and dearest. And on another hand, it meant that you would be potentially finding yourself in situations where you would be spending time with family members who you would maybe rather not spend time with.

When you were young, Christmas always felt so magical. Now you were older, Christmas felt more like an anxiety inducing chore.

You’d talked to Corpse about your family a many of times, because for the most part, you really did love your family so much. You felt lucky to have been born into the family you were - again, for the most part. There was one particular sibling who you wouldn’t include in those feelings. Unfortunately, toxic people existed and extra unfortunately, sometimes those people were related to you. After four months of being with Corpse, he thought he had come to learn all of who were apart of your family. But then you were reminiscing on a childhood memory and when sharing it with your boyfriend, he heard a name he hadn’t heard before. When he questioned you on it, he noticed the immediate change in you. The smile left your face and you went timid and very quickly, you shifted the conversation topic. You were acting in a way he had never seen you be like before, usually you were so open and talkative and here was a brother you had never mentioned and definitely didn’t want to talk about.

He didn’t push it any further that day, figuring you would tell him when you were ready. That time came in November, on the 25th.

You remembered it well, Corpse was going through his emails when he asked you, “Baby, what’s the date?”

“November twenty-fi-” You cut yourself off.

“What?”

You were silent for a moment, you didn’t realise that Christmas had snuck up this quickly. It was only a month away.

“Baby?”

“Sorry- um,” you glanced to him, giving him a meek smile before continuing,  “it’s November 25th.”

He noticed that shift in you again. “Are you okay?”

And on that day, you opened up to him. Told him about the terrible memories that haunted days that should have and could have been really happy days had it not been for a bullying, negative family member. How now, you seemed to dread Christmas because of this fact.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Corpse had questioned you, he said it as if it was the most clear outcome, but it wasn’t like for you. It was so much easier for him to say that then it was for you to do.

“I couldn’t do that to the rest of my family.”

“Why? You can see them on any other day?”

“It’s Christmas, I couldn’t not go.”

“It’s just the same as any other day if you think about it.” As much as he had cared and listened to you opening up to him, it was hard for him to understand you on this. You grew up in vastly different family dynamics.

“Not to my family, it’s important.”

The two of you continued to go back and forth for a little bit before you realised the stubbornness you both shared wasn’t going to allow you to take in the other’s perspective.

In fact, the two of you didn’t speak about it again until two days before Christmas Eve. You were spending the day together because you were planning on leaving that night to stay at your parents house until boxing day. And as your leaving time was drawing closer and closer, it was visibly clear to Corpse how anxious you were feeling about it.

-

“(Y/N),” he had called for you attention and you looked to him, “I really don’t want you to go.”

A soft smile was offered to him. “I’m going.”

“But I can fucking see how this is affecting you. You’re dreading it, please don’t go.”

You sighed before answering him. “I have to go.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Please, Corpse, I don’t want to go over this again. I’m already feeling nervous about it.”

“Then stay with me for Christmas, you won’t have to feel nervous about anything, we can just be here having our own good time.”

You knew he was just trying to be there for you, but it seemed this was not something the two of you could find a common ground on. “It’s not that simple.”

-

But if only it had been that simple. If only you had listened to Corpse. Because you wouldn’t be where you were right now. Sitting in your car with tears running down your face. It was 5:05pm in the afternoon on Christmas Day and you’d made a dash out the front door while everyone else sat down to eat dinner. You had tried your best to stay strong, to ignore your toxic brother but when someone was constantly saying and doing things to try to bring you down, you’d broken. You wished you could pull it together, so you could go back inside for the people you wanted to be with, but you truly couldn’t take it any longer. You would call and apologise to your Mother tomorrow, you felt bad for leaving her the most.

You shouldn’t have been driving in the state you were in, tears kept blurring your vision and your mind was so distracted you knew you really weren’t paying enough attention. But by some miracle, you had made it to where you wanted to be. And in one piece and it wasn’t your own place. You were parked out the front of Corpse’s place and how you just longed to be in his arms right now.

Heavy feet carried you to his front door and before you could get the chance to knock, Corpse had already swung the door open.

“Thought I saw your car pull up- oh, fuck,” His tone was happy at first, surprised with happiness that you were there until he took notice of the state you were in. Your foundation was streaked by the thick and fast tears that had fallen down your cheeks. Your mascara and eyeliner tracked black lines, too. Your nose had the makeup removed from it and it was displaying red due to the amount of times you’d rubbed at it. And oddly enough, a Santa Hat was still sitting atop your head. Corpse had never seen a more gloomy Christmas Hat appearance. “Baby, c’mere.”

He wouldn’t hesitate to stretch out his arms to pull you in close and you so gladly accepted. When you were resting against him, his arms would be holding you so tight and yours clutching at his hoodie he was wearing, he’d kick his foot out to shut the front door once the two of you were inside. Small sobs were already leaving your body, but feeling the familiar and protective grip of Corpse really just made you break more. You were safe here, you were safe with him, you could get out any emotion you needed to, and so you did.

Sobs wracked your entire frame, it was loud, vocal and physical crying. Corpse had seen you cry before, but never like this. It was hurting him to see you so hurt. He was so concerned for you, he didn’t have to ask if you were okay, your display was making it clear you weren’t. When he could start to feel your feet starting to give out and your weight became heavier against him, and he not only heard but also felt you choking on your own cries and starting to really struggle to breathe, he felt the need to do more.

Gently, he’d bring you down to the floor with him. He’d sit with his back against the wall and grab your thighs to have you sit in his lap, your legs straddling him. He would pull you in tight enough so your chest and torso was completely against his, the two of you couldn’t be brought any closer if you tried.

“I need you to try taking some deep breaths for me.” He’d tell you right in your ear, needing you to hear him over your violent cries. And so you did, but each one was uneven and would catch in your throat and make you cough.

His hand would be rubbing big, deliberate, heavy circles into your back with a force to make its presence known, a tactic he hoped would calm you. He was caught off guard to see you like this, but after opening up to him about your toxic sibling and how anxious you had been to be around him again, he wasn’t exactly shocked. He was so concerned for you but a part of him was also furious that someone had treated you in such a terrible way to put you in this state. He now wished he had worked harder in getting you to stay with him, if you were with him, you were safe, he wouldn’t let harm - especially like this - come to you.

“I’m here.” Corpse would assure you with a longing kiss to the side of your head, rocking you back and forth.

And eventually, while sitting there, being cradled in his arms, your cries would quieten, your sobs wouldn’t make you shake so violently and your breathing would return to a more regular state.

“Feel better?” He’d ask you once you reached that more stable point and you’d nod your head from its place against his neck before doing a much needed yawn. “You’re tired?”

“Exhausted.” You’d confirm.

“Should we go lay down?” He was still holding you so strongly and securely but being so gentle with how he spoke to you.

“Yeah, I want to get some painkillers first, though, my head hurts.”

“Want to take off the Santa hat?”

“No.”

“What, why?” Your answer surprised him.

“I’ve had it on all day, I’ll have really bad hat hair.” You admitted and Corpse laughed and had you been in a better mood, you would have joined in on the laughter. But it did lift your spirits to even just simply hear him laugh.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“It will be.”

Corpse laughed softly again and shook his head slightly and when he felt you relax against him again, he brought up his hand to quickly pull the hat from your head.

“Hey!” You lifted your head then and he was relieved to see no more build up of tears in your eyes anymore.

“You’ll feel better without it on.” He argued your protest, smiling a small smile and you couldn’t help but to mirror it, which made Corpse elated to see.

“Okay, but don’t you dare look at my hat hair.” You told him and because he knew your eyes were on his, he intentionally lifted his eyes to your hair. “Corpse!” You called his name with a laugh and he was so happy to hear you laugh instead of cry. “Stop it.” You spoke through more giggles and your hands came up to land on your head over your hair until Corpse grabbed your wrists and moved your hands out of the way. “Hey!” Squirming your arms to get your wrists out of his grasp. Once you freed them, you’d place your hands over his eyes.

“Baby, let me look at your beautiful hat hair.”

“No!” You both would laugh then and this time when your boyfriend took hold of your hands to move them off of his eyes, it would be soft and he’d lift them to bring back his vision and bring your hands down a little to place kisses into the palms on each of your hands.

“You know you don’t have to hide anything from me, right?” On the surface, it could’ve sounded like Corpse was talking about just the hat hair, but on a deeper level, he meant this so wholeheartedly, and you understood.

So you’d nod. “I know. Thank you.”

And Corpse knew that once again, when you were ready you’d tell him about what took place on that Christmas Day, but for right now, he didn’t need to know. All he needed to know is that now you were okay and you were safe and you were with him.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #corpse husband fanfiction #writing #mine

[justthehiddleswrites]

Just Grab My Ass | Magnus Martinsson x Female Reader | March Magnus #1

 A/N: So the eyeliner thing is totally from my Magnus anon as I am sure other bits and pieces.  So you know who you are, huge credit to you.  Love you, Mags!

Request: by @catsladen​  

Undercover Magnus with another detective he has a crush on. They’re somewhere where they have to dance (club maybe) and his partner is trying to get him to relax so he doesn’t blow their cover. Some exchange like: “Magnus, I swear to God, PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY ASS!” Magnus sputters, awkwardly moving his hands until she gets frustrated with his hesitance and grabs his hands, planting them firmly on her ass and she grinds up on him and he has to keep from short-circuiting. I love awkward golden noodle boy Magnus 😂

Pairing: Magnus Martinsson x Female Reader

Summary: Magnus is consummate professional until a case requires you and him to go to a club.  And he has failed to mention his enormous crush on you. Well complicates things.

Warnings: implied smut, mentions of drugs, law enforcement.

Taglists are open! Let me know if you want to be added!  Thank you for reading!

--

“Kurt, please, send someone else on this job.” Magnus begged. His pale skin covered with a thin layer of sweat. “I’ll do all your paperwork for a month. Answer the phone without complaining. Just please send someone else.”

Kurt stared at Magnus with a furrowed brow. “I thought you would love this assignment. A young guy like you at a club with…” Kurt’s eyes darted over towards where you were standing, laughing at something Svedberg said. “Does she know?”

Magnus blushed a deep shade of pink. “No, and if you tell her, Kurt—”

Wallander held up his hands. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Magnus’s shoulders relaxed and sighed deeply. “Great, so I will tell her that you are sending—”

“Oh you are still going on this assignment.”

“But—”

“You are the senior officer on this case and your schoolboy crush on your partner is not a good enough reason to pull you off of it.” Kurt slapped Magnus’s shoulder hard. “I suggest you pull yourself together and if that doesn’t work, try a cold shower.”

Magnus scowled at Kurt. “Not helpful.”

—

You tugged at your skirt and top one more time before slamming your locker shut and heading out to meet Magnus to go to the club where the buy was going to happen.

“Are you ready to go?” you asked, leaning against the doorway to the men’s locker room.

“I’m not coming out!” Magnus yelled. “I look ridiculous.”

“I’m sure you look fine. If it makes you feel better, I look ridiculous as well.”

You overheard Magnus slam his locker shut, and his shoes dragging on the floor. He stepped out and the first word that came to your mind was not “ridiculous”.

Magnus kept fidgeting with his shirt, the four buttons at the top undone, revealing a swath of skin and chest hair. You licked your lips as your eyes lingered.

“Say something, please.” Magnus coaxed.

You blinked back to whatever place you were and stared at him. “I think you look nice.” Drop dead gorgeous was more like it. Stunningly handsome. A god among men. You could go on but Magnus was still staring at you.

“Just nice?” His stomach dropped. He put a lot of effort into this ridiculous getup hoping to impress you. His efforts were naught.

You shoved his shoulder. “Better than nice, Magnus. Really nice.” you giggled, leaning against him. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

“I’m not going.” He turned away.

You grabbed his arm. “Come on, Magnus. Do you really want to explain to Kurt that we didn’t arrest this scumbag because you were self-conscious about eyeliner?” You smirked at him. “Besides, it really brings out the blue in your eyes.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

“Yes! Now let’s get going.” You shoved him towards the door.

—

The music was some horrid EDM nightmare that would have your ears ringing for weeks. The lights flashed too bright and the air smelled of smoke that was not entirely cigarettes. You were too old for this shit.

“I think we need to dance.” You leaned in close to Magnus’s ear.

You couldn’t tell, but he blushed as your lips brushed against his ear.

“That is not necessary. We can see him just fine from here.” He uncrossed his arms to point at the sliver of their suspect’s right arm.

“Oh yeah, that right elbow is very incriminating.” You pulled him away from the wall where he had planted himself after grabbing a beer from the bar. “Come on, we have to actually see him hand off the parcel.”

With much reluctance, you got Magnus onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, while he flailed his arms in the air for five or ten seconds before hanging at his sides. Magnus didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but that would be entirely unprofessional and most likely earn him a slap across the face.

“Magnus!” you hissed. “Do something with your arms!”

He furrowed his brow at you. “Like what?”

“Something! We are supposed to look like a couple.” You swayed your hips to the music.

Magnus grows more and more flustered. First, he reached for your shoulders and then your hips before dropping them to his sides again.

“Magnus, I SWEAR TO GOD, put your hands on your ass or I am kneeing you in the groin!” you hissed at him through gritted teeth while grabbing his hands and placing them squarely on each ass cheek.

Magnus immediately stiffened when you did so. “I… I…” he stuttered.

You pressed against Magnus. “Magnus, you are the worst liar in the world. I know you have a crush on me.” Your fingers reached up to tangle in his blond curls. “I feel the same, so why don’t we take advantage of this assignment,” You slipped your hands down his torso, you can tell he is fit underneath those baggy clothes. “and feel each other out?”

You spun in place and ground against his crotch. Magnus’s hands gripped your hips and pulled you tighter against him. “I like how you feel against me.” Magnus whispered in your ear.

His erection was evident against your backside. “I can tell. Later.” You pointed at the suspect, who was talking to another man and handing him a large envelope.

The two of you sprung into action, Magnus drawing his gun and you boxing the two men.

“Ystad Police!” you yelled as the music cut off and the house lights came on.

Your suspect’s face dropped. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Magnus snatched the envelope and dumped it out on the nearby table. Several spindles of a white crystalline substance. “Really because it looks like you are giving this man a bunch of drugs.” The other man moved to run, but you stopped him. “Packaged for sale.”

You handcuffed the two men and led them outside where a patrol car waited outside to take them to the station. Magnus put his arms around your bare shoulders, shielding them from the cool night air.

“Good job.” he commented.

“You too. I imagine there will be quite a bit of paperwork.”

Magnus groaned. “Yes.”

“And the processing…” You turned around to face them. “I imagine they will need to be interviewed.” Your lips curled into a smile as you watched Magnus’s face fall.

“Yeah…”

You trailed your fingers up and down the exposed skin of his chest. “I imagine that if we got delayed in traffic, Kurt would have to get started.”

“Yeah… wait what?” He stared down at you.

“I’m saying let’s get in the car and get lost for a while. Finish what we started on that dance floor. Unless, of course…”

“No!” Magnus ran his hands through his hair. “I agree, I’ll… get… get… the car.” He held his hands. “Wait right there.”

You giggled as you watched run off to where he parked the car, running into two different people on the way. You hoped he didn’t crash the car before getting back to your apartment.

#magnus martinsson #magnus martinsson fanfiction #magnus martinsson fanfic #magnus martinsson imagine #magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson fluff #march magnus

[imperatorium]

Ghost OC Week, Day 1

A whole-ass day late, but....

Introductions - Who is this character? What do they look like? What inspired you to make them?

Sister Dicondylia (née Cora Hollis). She/her. Late 20s when she joined the Church, now in her mid-30s. Small, delicate and doll-like, translucently pale.  Warm brown eyes, always lined in heavy black eyeliner/shadow.  Long dark hair, so thick and straight that it almost looks fake (because it used to be a wig before Sister Imperator gave her the more comfortable and consistent glamour to utilize).  There's a Victorian flare to most of her personal fashion and, honestly, her clergy fit is just some Lolita bullshit like this. Also wears a lot of insect-themed accessories!

Joined the congregation and, shortly thereafter, the Sisters Of Sin in 2014 (rumoured to have been personally delivered by that nasty, little zombie punk, Mary Goore but how those two became connected is anyone's guess!). 

Her file mentions an abusive father and a horrifically mismanaged childhood illness, but other than to contextualize its lasting effects on her health, this is not a subject she speaks very openly on.  On the whole, her past is not a very hot topic of discussion - although she has been known to spit the occasional curse against an ex, a nuisance since documented by the Church as a wannabe occult leader of no true significance.

Subjects she would enthusiastically rather cover include care of both pet and pinned bugs (she has an impressive collection of both), music appreciation (passionate supporter of the Ghost project), and demon taxonomy (as if they were another precious species of insect).

Here are a few stupid but pretty picrew I made of her because I cannot draw.

I have one single "OC" who I can slot into just about any AU and this is she, the Ghost-branded edition.  Obviously my favourite in-fiction part of Ghost is Sister Imperator and I absolutely consider her my point-of-view character within the story.  I'd hesitate to call what I can do with her in writing/roleplay/art/etc. "limiting" because I'd consider my fanworks experience with her incredibly rich and rewarding, BUT she is someone whose story is pretty spelled out in a certain way.And...while I have a very fulfilling fantasy relationship with Nihil through Sister, at the end of the day, Tobias made some other OCs I would like (Cora/Shilo) to kiss also. Anyway, excited for this @ghostbcfandomevents​ week and tomorrow I’ll post what should have been today & tomorrow’s stuff bc I think what I want to write will flow nicely into each other. ♥

#ghostbcfandomevents #ghostbcocweek2022 #ghost #that writing thing i do #this has been a poast

[wendimydarling]

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya 

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya​ is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira​ (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic. 

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed. 

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning. 

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested. 

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle. 

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream. 

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop. 

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes. 

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been. 

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid. 

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.” 

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.  

“For example, Miya writes: 

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off… 

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

 Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought. 

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine. 

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly. 

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone. 

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote. 

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest. 

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else. 

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ @achaoticaugust​ @demivampirew​ @raspberrydreamclouds​ I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

[butgilinsky]

december // mb

warning; heartbreak. that’s it. 

summary; after he’s left alone in an empty apartment with the weight of the world on his shoulders, mat comes to realize that december’s his least favorite month of the year. based on the song december by neck deep.

word count; 3.8k+ 

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

mat doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around the block. all he knows is that it’s hard to see, even harder to walk straight, and he can’t shake the itch he has to call you. he just needs one more time, just one final attempt at hearing your voice, even if it’s just your answering machine. 

“hey, this is y/n! i’ll get back to you-” he hangs up then, decides that he doesn’t have the mental capacity to leave another message. 

it’s only been two weeks, but mat feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. his heartbreak is just as fresh as it was when you walked away from him, tears in his eyes and mind going through the motions of trying to put itself back together again. two weeks isn’t long enough to heal from the gaping hole you left in his heart. there’s not enough time in the world for mat to heal properly. 

he comes to the realization that he’ll never be the same fairly quickly. he thought you were it for him. he thought that every obstacle would be tackled by the two of you together. he thought you’d be in this shit show called life together, for the long haul. he can’t say it’s not his fault, can’t say he tried as hard as he could. he took you for granted, and he knows that now, but now it’s too late.

he thinks that december is the worst month to be face heartache. he can’t take you home for christmas like he planned, can’t kiss you when the clock strikes midnight on january first. he doesn’t get to see you shudder from the cold despite him telling you to bundle up ten times before leaving the house. the christmas decorations that line the street are a constant reminder of the ones you lined the apartment with, and mat starts to think he’ll never look at christmas decorations the same. 

when he gets back home he sees a pair of your shoes by the door. he sees the christmas card from your best friend sitting on the table in the entry way. he sees little traces of you, almost fooling him into thinking you still live there. he has to remind himself then, your stuff is here but you’re not. you told him you’d pick everything up after he went to vancouver, wanting to limit your amount of contact with mat, but that only made it worse for him. 

you didn’t want to see him anymore. he wants to see you, and you want nothing to do with him anymore. it’s a hard pill to swallow, losing you so quickly after having you for so long. he knows he should understand, knows he should come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the best he could’ve been. he wasn’t the man he should’ve been, nowhere near the man you deserved. you asked for simple things and mat told you he’d never be able to give them to you. 

he thinks about how hard it’ll be to go home, to open gifts on christmas when he knows that theres a pile of boxes in the back of his closet that’ll never be opened. he knows that he should return them, should take them back to the stores before his grace period expires, but he can’t bring himself to even look at the boxes. he can’t bring himself to return the gifts he bought for you, can’t imagine going over each individual one in the process. 

tito offers to do it for him, says that he has a pair of pants he needs to return anyways, but mat knows better. he knows his friend is just doing what he thinks will help, and while it’s heartwarming, it’s also gut wrenching that his friends think he can’t take care of things himself. 

the first time he sees you after you walked out is at a restaurant, sitting across the table from a guy he’s never seen before. anders asks if he wants to leave, says that there’s another place they can go to right around the corner. mat shakes his head and slides into his seat, says it’s fine even though it’s not. 

he sits with his back to you, figures that’ll make it easier to resist the temptation to look at you. he doesn’t know that you watched him walk in, watched him slide into the seat facing away from you. he doesn’t know that your heart sinks into your stomach when you see him turn his back to you, silently telling you that it’s simply too difficult to look at you now. 

you excuse yourself from your table, the man across from you offering you a worried smile before you walk to the bathroom quicker than normal. you grip the edge of the sink, leaning over it in case your stomach fails you. the world around you spins, makes it harder to catch your breath that’s only getting worse with every passing second. 

you try to ground yourself, try to tell yourself that you did what was right for you, that this is what you wanted. it’s what you needed. you remind yourself that you want things that mat can’t give you. you want things that mat doesn’t want to give you. you need a life that mat can’t provide. 

“what do you want from me, y/n?” it’s the same fight, the one you’ve had too many times to count. you ask for something simple, ask him to do the bare minimum only for him to act as if you asked him to pull the moon out of the sky and shove it in your pocket. 

“i want you to tell me that we’ll get there! i don’t need it now, mat, but-”

“but that’s the thing, y/n. you do need it now. you want me to throw away everything i’ve worked for because you want some stupid house with a red door and shrubs around the lawn. you want to get married on a beach or in a forest. you want to have a large wedding, a reception in a big ballroom where everyone is smiling at you like you’re the only person in the room. 

“you want kids that pull on your hair and draw on the walls. you want to settle down and have a life made for thirty year olds who sit in cubicles from nine to five and then go home and eat dinner at the kitchen table. but i can’t give that to you. you want a life i can’t give you.” 

it hits you at full force, like a tsunami that nobody saw coming just before it wipes out an entire city. you try to ground yourself, try to bring yourself back to the restaurant bathroom that you’re in, rather than your place in the middle of your living room, crying and begging mat to just listen to you. 

you don’t think you’re ready to leave the space just yet, but you’re reminded that you’re not here alone, and the guy at your table is probably worried that you’re crawling out of the bathroom window. 

you run straight into someone on your way out of the bathroom, chests colliding into one another before you’re both rushing out apologies. you’re almost knocked off of your feet by the force, and grip onto the first thing that you can reach, which happens to be the person’s forearm. 

anthony’s hands steady you, making sure you don’t topple over in the heels that are suffocating your feet. he tries to mask his shock with a warm smile, tries to hide the sympathy that’s eating away at him. it doesn’t work, but you can tell he’s trying. 

he noticed the red rimmed eyes you’re sporting, and the way your eyeliner is smudged just the slightest bit. he notices the indents in your bottom lip from where you were just chewing on it to conceal the sounds of your sobs. it’s not the first time he’s seen you in a state similar to this one, and he’s not sure if he hopes it’s the last. 

you see him look back at his table and make the mistake of following suit, feeling every muscle in your body tense when you find the same set of eyes you’d missed for two months. you can’t tear your eyes away from him, can’t even bother to notice that the guy who brought you here is watching the entire exchange. 

mat doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know if he should look away and pretend like he never saw you or if he should get up and go talk to you. he doesn’t know where the boundaries are drawn or if he’s invited to overstep them regardless of what they entail. he wants to ask you, wants to stand up from his set and rush to take tito’s spot. he wants to hear your voice and feel your touch, feel his heart intertwine with yours in a bed shared by the two of you. 

anders brings mat back, clapping a hand on his back and trying to integrate him back into the table’s conversation. you look at him for a little longer, only brought out of your thoughts when you hear anthony’s voice. 

“y/n-”

“i have to go.” you leave him before he can say anything else, walking up to your table and rushing out a slew of apologies as you gather your things. 

“i’m sorry, i have to go.” he notices the tears building in your eyes, asks you if you need a ride home or money for a cab, both of which you turn down but thank him for. he’s not sure what just happened but he knows you can’t stay here for much longer without tipping over the edge, so he lets you go. 

you walk by his table then, trying to ignore the fact that you’re so close to him. you ignore the call of your name and cover your mouth with the back of your hand as you inevitably catch the attention of half of the restaurant. 

“barz, don’t-”

“y/n!” he’s out of his seat and running after you before any of his teammates can bring him back down. 

he doesn’t care that the whole restaurant is watching, doesn’t care that he’ll see stories about the exchange in the morning. he just focuses on you running out of the doors the best that you can, focuses on the fact that he’s getting closer to you with every stride. it’s not close enough, but it’s the closest he’s been in a long time and he’ll take anything he can get at this point. 

“y/n!”

“don’t do this, mat.” it’s the first time he’s heard your real voice for month; the first time it’s not your answering machine or his saved voicemails from you. it’s not in a video he can’t seem to stop watching, or a figment of his imagination in the middle of the night. it’s you, and you’re here. for a moment, he thinks he’s dreaming. 

“baby, please.” you move when he reaches for you, trying to hail a cab as quickly as you can so you can get the hell out of this situation. 

“i can’t do this. please, mat, please don’t do this. i’m begging you.” he feels his heart sink at the desperation in your face, somehow coming to terms with the notion that you don’t want to talk to him right now, and you probably don’t want to talk to him ever again. “i can’t do this to me mat, because if i let you tell me what you’re thinking then i’m not going to be able to walk away from you.” 

your words hit him at full force, almost knocking him straight off of his feet. he’s not entirely sure what weight your words held, but he does know the he wishes you’d give him the room to explain why that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

a cab pulls up to the curb and you’re reaching for the handle before he can get another word out, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. he’s forced you into conversations that you didn’t want to have for months, he can’t bring himself to do that right now despite the questions swimming around in his mind. 

he watches you slip into the backseat, locking eyes with him one more time before shutting the door and begging the cab driver to take you home. he knows he messed up, knows he should’ve stayed in the restaurant, knows that he shouldn’t have let you walk out in december. 

you’re gone before he can process it. he’s left standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes glued to the spot where you once stood. he feels a hand on his back, hears his friends telling him that you just needed time, that it was still all too new for you to face. 

but they don’t know you the way he does. they don’t know that you’re never going to be ready to face this. they don’t know that all you wanted was mat in a big house with a rose colored door, and all he gave you was the opportunity to find him passed out in the bathroom at three in the morning, too drunk to crawl into bed. 

he hears tito say the same thing he always does. the four words he hates to hear, but can’t seem to get his friend to stop muttering when the situation arises. 

“pain is never permanent.”

he bites his tongue, doesn’t want to yell at tito and tell him that he knows that, but tonight it’s killing him. he doesn’t say that december has become his least favorite month, that he wishes time would slow down so he wouldn’t have to reach the end of the year. 

the next time he sees you is a few months later. this time you’re in the park, hand gripping a leash with a dog he’s never seen on the other end of it. he feels his heart threatening to jump out of his chest when he sees you leaning into someone’s side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. he has a leash in his hand as well, a different dog on the end of it. 

he doesn’t know if they’re yours or his, the dogs. he doesn’t know if they’re still puppies or fully grown. he doesn’t know if the guy you’re with is your new boyfriend, or a friend that’s overly affectionate. 

he gets his answer, unwillingly, when you turn to the man and smile brightly, watching as you push yourself onto your toes and press your lips to his. mat feels bile tickle the back of his throat, feels the gut wrenching feeling that comes with a heartbreak that’s never subsided. 

he wonders how he’s forced to see you like this. the city’s so big, and he had to be at the same park as you and him today. his jog picks up pace, his frustration being fueled into his early morning run. 

you see him when he passes you, eyes locking for just a moment before he looks ahead of himself once more. you know he’s mad, know he’s still grieving, but then you’re reminded of the man beside you, his hand squeezing your shoulder just as the dog on your leash gives you a firm tug as a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. 

you smile at him and tell him that yeah, you’re fine. you walk with him, only glancing over your shoulder once. mat’s already gone, no sign of him anywhere in sight. you almost wonder if you’d made up the entire thing in your head. 

-

it’s december again, and when mat reaches up to scratch his neck, he’s reminded of the facial hair he’s sporting. he remembers a time when you ran your fingers over his jaw, scratching gently at the stubble forming. 

“should i shave it?” you hum, almost not hearing his question. he asks again, peeling his eyes away from the tv and looking down at you. 

your head’s on his chest, and your eye are wide with admiration as you look up at him and shake your head. you tell him no, that you like his facial hair and it makes him look about five years older. he smiles, despite the fact that he asks you if that meant you didn’t like the babyface he usually wore. 

you smile then, rolling your eyes and squealing when his fingers dig into your ribs. you try to swat him away, but he rolls the two of you over and effectively traps you between him and the mattress. he only stops when you struggle to catch your breath from laughing, both of you wearing wide, cheesy grins while holding eye contact. 

you lean up and press your lips to his, humming when he pushed back against your lips with added pressure. his fingers dip down to your hips, gripping them slightly before slipping under the material of your shirt. 

mat has to pull himself out of the memory before his mind goes too far. he can’t spend too much time dwelling on the moment, or he’ll back out. he can’t back out, not after getting this far. 

he needs to tell you, needs you to know that he wants the best for you. he wants you to have everything you’ve ever wanted in life, even if he isn’t the one that gets to give it all to you. 

he wants you to know that he loves you, and will until his last breath. the years he spent with you weren’t like anything else he’s ever experienced, and he has a feeling it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

your smile spreads a warmth through his chest. he notices that it doesn’t reach your eyes, but neither does his. he walks into the coffee shop, know that there are so many thoughts bound to be left unspoken by the end of this. neither of you know how to start this conversation, but you take the first plunge. 

“you look good.” he lets a soft laugh slip, not understanding how that can be the first thing you’re saying to him after all of this time. he takes it in stride though, and bites his tongue so he doesn’t return the sentiment. 

there’s not much small talk. it’s practically impossible to sit in front of the other and pretend like the last few years never happened. he can’t act like he doesn’t know how it feels to wake up beside you, or have your lips moving up and down the skin of his neck. you can’t pretend you don’t know how it feels to watch him score a goal, or two, or three, and be the one that gets to go home with him afterwards. 

so he takes a deep breath, and you sense the hesitation coursing through him. he notices your patience, remembers how that came in handy over the course of your relationship. he gives you another small smile, and grips the cup in front of him as a way to keep his hands occupied while he starts to speak.

“i just want you to know that i want you to be happy. i know that you are, and that makes me happy. i hope you get your ball room floor, and your perfect house with rose red doors. i know that it’s been a long time, and i couldn’t tell you that when-” he swallows, and attempt to stop the lump from forming in his throat. it doesn’t work, but it adds a sense of comfort in a weird way. 

“i want you to know that i’m happy for you. i wish it was me, and i’d be lying if i said there’s a point where i won’t feel like that, but i know that you wanted things i couldn’t give you. i hope he's better than I ever could have been.” he doesn’t say that he doesn’t think that’s possible, and he doesn’t say that he’s ready to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you asked him for a year ago. 

he doesn’t say that he’s ready now, that he’s at a place that he didn’t think he’d ever reach. you don’t get the pleasure of knowing that mat’s ready for this, for you. you’re left with the thought that he’ll never be ready, and you’ll never be given the chance to see mat mowing the lawn of a big, two-story house with a red door and a wrap around porch. 

you don’t tell him that you want to hear it, that you need to hear it. you don’t tell him that you’d drop everything you have right now if it meant that you can live that life with mat. he doesn’t get the pleasure of knowing that you’re silently begging him to ask you to leave your new life behind and run away with him. he’s left with the thought that you’re satisfied with what you have going for you, and he’ll never be given the chance to see you in a beautiful white dress, walking towards him with a smile so bright, he thinks it’ll blind him. 

you sit across from each other, biting your tongues and holding back words that would change everything if just one of you would simply spit it out. if one of you could build the courage to just say what you were both thinking, your lives would change once again. your lives would finally end up being everything you wanted them to be. 

but you don’t say anything, because you don’t think there’s a place for you to say it. mat doesn’t say anything, and he thinks he’s doing the right thing by holding back. he thinks he’s come to terms with how his life is meant to play out, and you think he’s still incapable of reaching the point that you need him to be at. 

you leave the coffee shop with a weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there when you arrived. your stomach feels uneasy, maybe from the coffee but definitely from the realization that you’d never be able to move on from mathew barzal. 

mat stays in his seat after you leave, not being able to hug you goodbye or watch you walk back to your car. he can’t find it in him to move from his spot, trying to give himself the time to come to the realization of what just happened. he knows that he still loves you, knows that he’ll always love you. he feels his chest ache and maybe it’s the weight of the situation, but it’s definitely from the realization that he’d never be able to move on from you. 

it’s going to be another long, lonely december.

-

barzy taglist; @extratragic @vinceduhn @teenagekook @smit41 @sidscrosbyy​ 

himbos; @babytkachuks​ @bricksatlandyswindow​ @anxietyandtacos​ @damndunner​ @dmonchld​ @kiedhara​ @sortagaysortahigh​ 

#mathew barzal #mat barzal #mat x reader #new york islanders #islanders #isles #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #mathew barzal imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal x reader #barzy

[dancingazaleas]

Can you write a modern au Historia Reiss x fem!reader imagine where the reader is in a band and has a very punk rock style, and Historias the popular cheerleader everybody drools over, and they hate each other but at a party some girl is flirting with the reader so historia takes her and fucks the reader silly in a bathroom and after confesses her feelings to r?

historia reiss | promise

ofc!!! pls i literally love cheerleader!historia. i hope this is good enough <33 !!

18+ pls ! [unedited]

warnings/notes: cursing, use of alcohol and drugs, eventual smut, jealous dom!historia, modern au!, college au!, cheerleader!historia, bathroom sex, degradation, slight praise, enemies to lovers supremacy, fem reader!, finger fucking, hints at pegging, and aftercare

you’re pissed, so pissed that you’re seeing white. you only know that you’re sitting under the bleachers of your college campus and that your best friend, annie, is sitting beside you.

historia reiss, the popular cheerleader adored by everyone, decided it would funny if she pulled a prank on you. the prank being drenched in ice water and then pouring pink glitter on your body from the second floor of campus.

the glitter stuck everywhere, even in your mouth. before you scrubbed some of it off, you looked like a bath bomb. the water made it stickier and made you cold.

you don’t know what kind of vendetta historia has against you, you’ve only just met her two years ago! you hadn’t even really talked her up until your freshman year of college. even then, you don’t think you had said anything rude or wrong.

you just assume she gets pleasure out of your suffering.

you’re ranting about historia to annie, who witnessed the whole incident, still covered head-to-toe in glitter. she’s smoking a cigarette and listening to you absentmindedly, a sign that she’s getting slightly annoyed. she grabs your jaw with her hand and turns your face towards her. she’s taking in a breath and you know exactly what she’s about to do.

when she pulls the cigarette away, she blows the smoke into your face and let’s go of your jaw.

“thanks for that,” you grunt, the smell always seems to calm you down for some odd reason.

“y’know, instead of ranting, you could go home and take a shower,” she looks sleepy as she holds onto her cigarette.

“i know. but she’s just so frustrating! wanna know what makes her even more frustrating?!”

annie decides to play along, she thinks you ranting is funny, “what?”

“she’s hot. scratch that, she’s literally gorgeous. she looks like a fucking goddess and has the personality of a witch,” you shout angrily, following annie’s movements of getting up and walking towards your dorm.

“i dunno,” she snickers, “she’s pretty nice to me.”

“yeah, cause she’s got some sort of vendetta against me. i swear—i have never done a single thing to her!! do you remember when she bashed our band?! does she even listen to punk?!”

annie’s made a mistake in encouraging you, “anyways. speaking of our band, don’t forget we’re playing tonight at eren’s house.”

“you mean at his frat house,” you snort, bumping your shoulder into her’s. you immediately regret it when you pull away and see pink glitter stick to her shirt and a shiver going down her spine.

“yeah, whatever. thank god he’s loaded enough to pay for a band. i can’t believe his dad just gives him and zeke cash,” annie coughs while she chuckles, smoke puffing out of her nose.

you’re laughing at her coughing, slapping her firmly on the back as you walk.

you don’t notice large blue eyes staring at you from far away.

————

you’re trying to ignore the idiotic comments annie’s making while mikasa does your eyeliner.

you, mikasa, annie, and—surprisngly—jean are getting ready for your show tonight.

originally, it had just been you, annie, and mikasa until mikasa and jean had started dating. she vouched that he could play the drums—and he definelty could. he also gets along surprisingly well with you and annie.

mikasa usually sings back-up for you—despite your begging for her to be the lead—and plays the electric keyboard.

annie’s on bass guitar. she gets stupidly smug everytime she’s done playing and the praise she gets from her girlfriend doesn’t help. annie also writes most of your songs.

“guys, we should make a bet,” annie’s twirling some of her hair, eyeing you and mikasa.

“what’s the bet,” jean smirks and raises a bushy brow. mikasa and you give a hum of approval.

“i bet that one girl is gonna be all over (name) tonight,” you snort sarcastically.

“elizabeth? i think she’s trying to seduce me so i’ll partner up with her for this project we have coming up in our music history class,” mikasa’s pullled away, screwing the cap of the eyeliner back onto the bottle. she hands you coal black lipstick.

“you know what i bet,” jean starts, you know it isn’t gonna be good, “historia’s gonna be eyefucking (name) all night.”

you’re in the middle of applying lipstick but you stop at his statement.

“no, before you say something, jean’s gotta point,” mikasa muses, fanning her hand.

“yeah. dunno how you didn’t noticed,” annie shrugs, hopping out of her chair and stretching her arms upwards.

you’re irritated and finished with your lipstick, eyebrows furrowed bitterly.

“anyways,” you grit your teeth, “it’s showtime.”

————

it’s been five minutes since you and the band performed, and after all that belting you just want a drink. you’re walking through the messy and huge kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on spilled shots and egg yolk—who knows—because these boots were expensive.

luckily, most people are partying like a mob in the main room of the smelly frat house. it smells like weed, everywhere. and when you open the fridge you see a long platter of chocolate brownies, is eren alright? you shrug internally, snatching a water bottle that’s sitting on the top shelf.

after you’ve closed the fridge door and opened it, you’re chugging the water bottle like your life depends on it. when you pull away, you try to not notice the lipstick stain and that you’ve drank the bottle more than halfway. you’re leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, you don’t plan on partying too much since you’re supposed to be the designated driver for annie, mikasa, and jean.

you’re about to take another swig of your water, eyes staring down at your phone and continuing to read a article. before you can bring the bottle to your lips, teasing laughter from your front is distracting you.

it’s historia, wearing a baby blue v-neck tank top that ends at her ribs. she has a white skirt on, pulled up to the middle of her bellybutton and stopping at her upper thighs. her shoes are white and chunky with sparkly blue butterflies on the sides of them. her makeup’s cute, a light blue sprinkling on the outside corners of her eyes that tickled her cheekbones, a light and natural (for her at least) pink lipstick on her lips coated with shiny gloss. she’s pretty.

“fuck do you want,” you frown with narrowed eyes, you’re praying there aren’t anymore tricks.

“nothing, nothing!,” she’s got a cheery smile on her face, “just wanted to see how you were doing! i cant even do that?”

rolling your eyes, you scoff, “not after you drenched me in ice cold water and then poured glitter on me. it took me two hours to get rid of the glitter in the shower.”

she’s opening her mouth, but you’re already done with her shit, “fuck off, dude.”

you’re stomping out of the kitchen, huffing with frustration. what the fuck was historia trying to play at? she’s such a cunt, pulling these mean pranks on you with no provocation and then coming up to you after and asking how you are?

you’re seething. you’re so angry you’re not even paying attention to where you’re going.

but it’s interrupted when you bump into someone’s back. lower... back.

said person, turns around and looks down at you. she’s tall, and you’ve seen her around campus with eren and zeke. she’s quiet and cunning, you’ve heard rumors that she gets paid to beat people up sometimes. you can’t really judge her, money’s money.

but she’s also gorgeous. glowing gold eyes and choppy blonde hair. she’s wearing a loose black blazer that closes at her sternum and down, with nothing underneath. she’s got some kind of necklace—you think it says ‘p’ or ‘z’—and pretty silver rings on her fingers. her heels make her tower over you more than she probably would without them on.

“shit, my bad,” you sigh and look away.

she shakes her head, the tiniest smile painting her face and her cheeks turn a little red.

“you’re alright,” she hums, “i don’t think i’ve met you. i’ve definitely seen you around, but no one’s ever given me a name.”

“oh, i’m (name),” you smile shyly, “i don’t know your name either.”

she chuckles a bit, somehow wrapping her hand in your’s and leading you to a nice loveseat. her nails are painted black and you feel inclined to put your legs over her lap.

“i’m surprised,” and that’s when you notice zeke and pieck on the couch next to you, “there are a lot of rumors about me. however, i guess whoever told you—or didn’t—left me anonymous. i’m yelena.”

you give a laugh, watching her throw her arm up onto the top of the couch. you’re cuddling her side within seconds, drawing a deep chuckle from her. her other hand reaches to your cheek, making you look up at her. she’s holding your chin with her thumb and staring at you with her hypnotizing eyes.

“you’re just the cutest,” she mumbles, letting go of your face and tapping your nose.

you’re getting embarrassed at the attention, and you don’t know what to say other than ‘thank you’. you’ve never been pussy whipped a day in your entire life, but you think you might change that.

she’s leaning in closer, ignoring the couple, who was staring at you two with amusement, that sat on the couch cuddling. you feel like you recognize them for a moment, but the thought it forgotten whenever yelena kisses you fervently.

she’s running her tongue across your lip and the shiver that goes down your spine makes you realize she has a tongue piercing. she’s pushing you down to lay on the couch, to which you happily oblige, her hand crawling up to your neck.

before you can even let her shove her tongue in your mouth and choke you, your hand is being tugged and all of a sudden your upper torso and body is on the floor and your head is aching. you’re dazedly looking at yelena, who’s just as surprised as you are, then turning to the couple on the couch.

holy fucking hell, how did you not realize that the couple was pieck and zeke. that isn’t even your main focus when another tug to your wrist pulls your lower half off the couch.

“what the fuck?!” you’re suddenly not dazed anymore, “let go of me!”

you’re snatching your arm away and scrambling to your feet, tugging down your short dress that rode up. you turn around to face the assaulter, only to look down and see historia.

historia grabbed you?!

before you can even scream or slap her, she’s, once again, pulling you away by your wrist. for such a small girl, she’s got a tight grip.

you’re stumbling as you follow her, not like you couldn’t, yelling profanities. you pass by annie, who spits out her drink at the sight of you, it startles her girlfriend, hitch. you mouth a ‘help!’ towards her just as you’re swung forward.

it takes you a second to balance yourself out, and before you can turn yourself around, you’re being shoved forward.

what the fuck is her deal?!

you’re pushed into a bathroom, finally turning around to see historia as you fall on your ass. she’s slammed the door closed and locked it, staring at you on the ground.

“the fuck is your damage,” you scream, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“you’re a fucking slut, that’s what!” she’s yelling back, now standing in front of you. her hands are trapping you against the counter, and you’re looking down at her.

“you’re a dirty little slut. you can’t help but get down with a woman when i’m not with you for five fucking minutes,” you can’t even open your mouth and opted to push yourself towards the counter more as you squeeze your thighs together.

“look at you,” she’s laughing mockingly, “you look like a dog in heat. are you enjoying this, you fucking whore?”

you whimper, shaking your head side-to-side.

“you’re a liar,” she’s laughing again, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips against your’s.

“i’m not.”

“if you’re not, go ahead and push me away then,” she smirks, leaning closer.

you look away, listening to the mocking giggle that she was releasing right in your face. her left hand is grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“can i kiss you,” her look softens and you nod at her.

“yes,” and within a second, her lips are on your’s. the kiss is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

with a bit on your lip, her tongue is rubbing against your’s and her hands sliding under the thin straps of your dress. you’re whining when she pulls away and laughs. your dress is halfway down your body, chest jumping up and down as you pant from the lack of breath.

“look at you, baby,” she turns your head to the side, which gives you a profile view of yourself in the mirror. your lipstick’s smudged in the corner of your mouth, eyeliner’s smuged as well as your eyeshadow.

weak product.

“you need better makeup,” she’s giggling as she leans her head towards your neck.

she’s kissing and sucking almost everywhere on your neck and chest, as if she were marking her property. moans are bouncing off the walls as her hands release your boobs from the strapless bra you’re wearing and sucking on your nipples. honestly, you’re glad it’s off. it’s been tiring having to pull it up everytime it slipped even just a bit.

you tug at her blonde hair when her small hand gropes one tit and her mouth bites at the other. she’s tugging the rest of your dress down with her free hand, and it pools around your boots. she goes back up to kiss your lips, laughing in your mouth as you struggle to kick off your boots. she’s kissing at your cheek and ear, tugging at the waistline of your fishnet tights.

“might wanna take these off too if you don’t want them ripped,” yelping when she bites at your earlobe.

“i...,” you’re catching your breath, “need help.”

she giggles while nodding, helping you shimmying the tights down to your knees.

“jump up on the counter, babe. it’ll make it easier for me,” you’re obident and jumping on the cool bathroom counter, it makes you shiver.

historia’s on her knees, shoes kicked off, and her fingers tickle your legs when she’s sliding the tights off your legs. she’s got a sultry look on her face when she throws said tights over her shoulder, palming your kneecaps. she bites back her smirk when she pulls your knees apart, showing off your black panties. you fall back against the mirror and you lean mostly on your elbows, ignoring the loud bang that came from it.

her mouth’s leaving open mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, pants leaving your mouth. her fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down quickly whenever you lift your hips.

your going to close your legs, but her hands prevent you from doing so. her eyes are glued to your pussy, lips spread open and your wetness shining in the light. you’ve got a little hair on your pubis, but that isn’t going to stop historia reiss from changing her name to sasha braus.

she’s sucking at your clit and spreading your legs apart as far as she can. she pulls away from your pussy just for a second.

“keep your legs open,” she says, a thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

it’s lazy and it’s satisfying, but it’s not enough to make you cum. she knows that.

you’re letting out high pitched moans and fingers tangled in her golden locks as she eats you out like a man starved.

‘i wish i had realized that i’m gay sooner,’ you think as historia slowly slides her middle finger inside of you.

you’re throwing your head back against the mirror when she suddenly adds a second finger, claiming that you could take it since you’re a slut.

considering your wetness is dripping down your ass and onto the counter, you can’t really object the statement.

she’s curling her fingers inside you, mouth closed around your clit. your moans go up an octave when she finds the spongy part inside of you, thrusting her fingers in and out of you after she angles her digits.

“fuck!” you moan and start clawing at historia’s free arm, which is holding down your hips.

“h-historia...,” you pant, “gonna cum... pl..please let me cum.”

her laughter sends vibrations across your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge. you’re crying out as historia helps you ride out your orgasm by slowing her fingers down and pulling away from your clit. historia’s admiring you while she wipes off your juices from her chin, a small smile adorning her lips.

your head is thrown back against the mirror—once again. eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan. the hand that was gripping at her arm is clenched in a fist that has your knuckles painted white. your toes are curled and your back is arching in the air.

she doesn’t pull her fingers out of you until your calm, letting you catch your breath before she does it all over again.

———

your legs are trembling as she helps you sit down on the toilet.

you know you look like a mess—historia’s been forcing you to watch yourself. the eyeliner and mascara you have on is now smeared and ran down your face since you cried. your lipstick is smeared up and down, worse than last time, and your hair is messed up and tangled from historia pulling on it.

historia’s squatting before you, looking for a rag to wet down and clean you up with.

“next cabinet over,” you breath, throwing your head back.

“you know who’s bathroom this is?”

“yeah, jean’s in this frat too. him and marco share it. this place is pretty nice when there isn’t a party going on,” you giggle, somehow this whole situation seems funny to you.

she’s running hot water over the rag she now has, staring at herself in the mirror. historia’s got hickeys on her neck too and teeth marks on shoulders. she’s got glittery blue on her cheek, must be her mascara.

she turns off the water and wrings it out. she walks over to you, nudging your legs open with her knee. you comply and absentmindedly reach for one of her hands to hold. she takes the offer, squatting in front of you and cleaning up the slightly dried cum and juices on your thighs and vagina.

you shiver and let out little whines and whimpers, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. historia was also still wearing something. something that you didn’t even know she had.

a fucking 6 inch strap on.

“by the way,” you start, “how’d you get your strap-on here?”

“i came to the house before eren started throwing the party. i brought a bag with me and just hid it in the empty cabinet. i think eren wanted to hook up with me and mentioned something about pegging. brought it in case,” she explains, small smile spreading across her face as she starts cleaning your face.

you start giggling again, the hand that wasn’t holding her hand weakly grabbing at her wrist.

“hisu... can i get a kiss,” you pucker your lips when she pulls away the rag from you. she flips the rag to a clean slide, rubbing herself in the same areas as she did for you.

historia holds your cheek and gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and ymir’s place. you’re still in sub-space and you wobble instead of walk,” she says, squatting down again to help you get your panties on.

she’s able to get your dress on the lower half of your body, but you both realize there’s a fucking cum stain on the chest. historia gives you a jacket that was in her bag, zipping it halfway. the dress stayed sitting at your waist, you’re to tired to get it open even if you have a cover up.

she’s done cleaning everything up within ten minutes, including herself. she throws the rag in a hamper in the bathroom closet that had jean’s name written on it in sharpie.

she’s slipping the bag on her shoulder and helping you walk with the other one. when you walk out, ymir is leaning on the wall by the door with a smirk.

ymir squats down a bit, laughing at your shaky legs every time you took a step. historia and her manage to get you on ymir’s back. you fall asleep before you three can get to the car.

———

when you wake up, your whole lower body is sore. your eyelids feel heavy as you open them, coming to your senses. you recognize ‘dance moms’ playing in the background and historia eating cereal as she watches.

you groan lowly, and historia finally notices your consciousness.

“so...,” you yawn while you stretch your arms up into the air, “talk about last night?”

historia nods while she chews, “so basically, i was jealous that you were hooking up with another girl that wasn’t me.”

“but why would you be jealous...? i thought you hated me,” you rub your cheek against the pillow you’re laying your head on.

historia blushes as she looks away with a pout, “i never hated you... i just... i didn’t like the feelings i have for you.”

“oh,” you lay on your back and ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “what are.... the feelings..?”

“i may or may not love you,” she hides her face by holding her bowl full of cereal to her chin.

you don’t say anything for a few moments, trying to think of what you wanted to say.

“i... i love you too. but, that doesn’t just mean i forgive and forget all the horrible shit you’ve done to me. i’ll start dating you when i feel that you’ve... ‘atoned’ for your sins,” you sigh, “it’s gonna take some time but if you want this to work or even start, you’ve gotta make it up to me and understand where i’m coming from.”

she looks at you with slight excitement, “i... of course! i was really mean to you and you didn’t deserve that, no matter how much i disliked you. i promise to make it up to you.”

she’s holding her pinky finger up to you.

you smile and link your pinkies with her’s, “promise.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #historia reiss #historia x reader #anime

[willowbird]

For the prompt game — could you do AU 1, trope 8, location 2 for Andreil? I always love reading these, thanks for sharing!

Grad School, return of the childhood best friend, inside Andrew's closet!!! Thank you so much for sending in the ask I'm glad you're enjoying the little ficlets and I hope you like this one too!

-----

Tall people were a curse. A blight on all of society. Civilization would undoubtedly crumble under the obnoxious stomping of their huge feet and the polar ice caps would melt at least in part due to the heat from their big fat heads.

Also, all the tall fuckers in Andrew's cohort were constantly putting things in places Andrew couldn't reach, especially when it came to the supply closet off of the office the group of them communally used. It had gotten to the point that Andrew had taken full command of the ordering and organization of all their supplies. Last month he had even gone so far as to print out and laminate a full-color sign for the closet that read: NO ONE ABOVE 5'3 PERMITTED. SEE ANDREW J MINYARD FOR ALL SUPPLY RETRIEVAL.

The only reason he'd given the extra few inches at all was because Robin, the undergrad TA that assisted in one of his classes, sometimes helped him out and she was a whole three inches taller than him. It was enough of a restriction that it barred the rest of his cohort from intruding, though, as even Renee was a solid 5'8.

Or at least, it should have been an effective restriction. Andrew had thought the rest of his team could read well enough to get the goddamn message. Then he showed up this morning and the fucking closet door was open and where was the box of printer ink he'd ordered last week?

That's right, on the top fucking shelf.

When Andrew figured out which idiotic fucking beanpole had decided to pull this shit with him there was going to be hell to pay. He would raid his cat's litter box for ammunition if he had to.

For the moment, though, he needed to replace the ink in both printers. Which was why he was balancing precariously on the arms of the only non-rolly chair on the goddamn floor, straining to reach the box of ink and quietly promising to take an extra dose of revenge out of each and every person over 5'3 if he fell.

Which he almost did when a sharp knock suddenly echoed a bit too loud from directly behind him.

"Jesus fuck what is wrong with y--" Andrew cut off abruptly as he looked over his shoulder to see who had dared come up behind him at a time like this. He blinked, then he fully closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. When the man before him was still fucking there, Andrew twisted slightly and jumped down, letting his ass hit the seat as he overbalanced on the landing.

"Um... hi."

It had been almost ten years since Andrew had heard that voice. Ten years. In that time Neil had gone from being a scrawny, anxious kid to... well...

Vivid blue eyes stared at him steadily, winged with eyeliner that only made them brighter. His dark russet-auburn hair was shaved close to his head on the sides but long enough on the top that he'd gathered it back in a loose bun, which only emphasized the perfect angles of his face and the soft give of his mouth, the way his chin carved down to a point as if to frame it, drawing the eye.

"Andrew? I didn't mean to surprise you. Well, I did, that's why I didn't tell you I was coming. I didn't mean to almost make you fall off a chair though..."

Neil clicked a tongue-piercing against his teeth. It flashed silver for a moment, matching the two bars that bisected his left eyebrow. Purple studs and a line of tiny hoops trailed up each ear.

Andrew stared, then he did the only rational thing and reached forward, grabbing the doorknob and slamming it shut with himself inside the closet.

His heart was fucking pounding, and he knew his face was flushed because, look. Look. Neil Josten at fourteen years old had been a scrawny kid with big ears and a chipped tooth that was always covered in bruises and Andrew had been so fucking in love with him. All he ever wanted to do as a baby gay was kiss Neil Josten. Thought about it all the time. But that had been off the table because Neil was his best friend and probably asexual and also literally trying to survive. When Neil moved to the other side of the fucking planet to be with his uncle, Andrew had told himself that this was a good thing because 1) Neil would be safe and 2) if there was distance between them then Andrew could finally get over him.

Over the last ten years they'd exchanged regular letters, but because Neil was a fucking technophobe and there may or may not have been an actual hit from actual hitmen and gangsters and shit on him over here in the states - they hadn't spoken on the phone and no pictures had been shared.

And now here was Neil. Almost twenty-four and... so so fucking hot.

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a quiet, anxious, "Andrew..?" that sounded a lot more like the Neil Andrew remembered.

"Um... should I go? I'm sorry... I thought... I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'll go..."

"No!" The word escaped him before he had time to really think about it. He was pretty sure his voice cracked a little in his desperation too. Shit. Andrew cleared his throat and tried again. "Just... wait. I.. need to get ink."

"Okay."

Andrew did his best not to read into the mystery in Neil's tone. Instead, he thanked the closet gods and carefully climbed back up onto the chair. Another couple of minutes later he had the ink he needed and was facing a coming out he really never anticipated having to go through. Coming out of the closet to your best friend was one thing. Coming out of the literal, actual closet you have shut yourself in to reunite with your super hot best friend that you've been in love with for over a decade at this point was quite another.

Ripping the band-aid off was really the only way to go, so Andrew took a deep breath, put his free hand on the knob, and opened the door.

Neil had repositioned himself and was now leaning against the nearest desk. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows exposing strong forearms decorated with swirls of dark ink. Three fingers on each hand bore rings (not the ring fingers, not that Andrew was specifically looking) and his nails were painted a dark, glossy gray. Around one wrist was a frayed bracelet that perfectly matched the one Andrew also wore on the same wrist.

As soon as Neil saw him, he lit up. A smile on his face that shined in his eyes, even if there was a slight hesitance to it - understandable considering Andrew had just.. you know... shut himself in a closet after seeing him.

"Hey... Sorry again, about that. I know you don't like to be startled. I just... I got excited."

Andrew swallowed, a tough feat with a throat so dry. Somehow, he managed a snort. "Like a puppy. Should I be worried about my floors, Josten?"

"I dunno, you gonna scratch me behind the ears?" Neil shot back, and the smirk that accompanied it was fucking devastating. That's is, Andrew gave up. He lost. Dead, he was dead. There was no way he was getting out of this one.

Andrew did the only thing he could do to keep himself from grabbing the little bastard and kissing him senseless, which was ask the big question hanging in the room between them.

"How are you here, Neil? I thought you'd never be able to come back to American soil."

Neil rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking of the best way to explain it. After a moment he said, "Uncle Stuart still doesn't think it's a great idea - but there's no price on my head anymore. As of last month we cleared out the last of... well, let's just call them the old bad guys. There are new bad guys, but they don't really care about me."

It took a moment for that to fully sink in. Andrew set down the ink on the desk and moved to stand directly in front of Neil. When Neil stood up straight, they were almost exactly the same height - Neil only really had a few inches on him. At least he hadn't been lying to make him feel better when he'd told him in a letter a few years back that he'd topped out at 5'3.

"So? Don't you have a whole new life over in jolly old England now? Friends and family who don't regularly try to kill you? Why come back at all?"

He knew why, but he wanted - he needed - to hear him say it.

"Yeah, but... they aren't you."

"Me."

"Yeah, Andrew. You."

Their eyes met. Something in Andrew's chest snapped like an overworked rubber band stretched too taut and all the carefully sequestered feelings it had been keeping at bay suddenly sprang forth like a tidal wave. They rushed through him, filling him up, buoying him until he probably could have reached the top shelf of that goddamn closet without the chair.

"I hate you," Andrew ground out. And Neil smiled, because he knew it wasn't true.

"I missed you, Andrew. I missed you so fucking much."

"Shut up, stupid." Andrew forced himself to take a deep breath, then he snatched up Neil's hand and started dragging him out of the office. "Come on. We're getting ice cream."

Neil laughed and squeezed his hand. "Some things never change."

No, Andrew thought, some things never do.

#asks #AFTG prompts #aftg fanfic #andrew minyard #neil josten #reunion fic #i will never pass up the chance to make an 'in the closet' joke #they are so in love #andrew minyard x neil josten #andreil

[flameo-hotman]

Zuko Adoption Menu #31

@zukoscalzones selected adoption #31, Ty Lee’s family adopts Zuko. This one was way too much fun for me to write and I high key want to turn it into a full length fic.

The news that the crown prince had vanished the same night as Lady Ursa broke not long after Ty Lee had talked her mom and dad into adopting a boy off the streets.

She had known exactly who the boy who became her brother was.

But maybe it was for the better that the new Fire Lord didn’t know who Ty Ken actually was. Besides Zuko seemed happier as Ty Ken than he had been as Zuko. Though it would be two years before he would tell her why he hadn’t gone wherever the Lady Ursa had gone.

It happened when she was braiding a pastel grey ribbon into his hair.

“I found her when she was talking with the Mother of Faces… She chose to forget about me. That’s why I came back to the Caldara.”

It was sudden and blunt, but Ty Lee kept braiding, asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Was Ty Ken’s answer.

Ty Lee didn’t need to ask who her brother was talking about. Azula didn’t like talking about Lady Ursa either, but like most people, Azula had assumed that Ursa had likely died. She didn’t know what to think about this information.

Once she had finished with Ty Ken’s hair, the two of them got up to head on over to the vanity that they shared with their sisters and started on their makeup.

“You always do your makeup all gloomy like Mai’s,” Ty Lee teased her brother, but he just shrugged and answered, “It goes better with my outfit…”

But he seemed to pause for a moment and look at himself in the mirror for a few moments, and suddenly grabbed the pot of red eye shadow.

She smiled at her brother and helped him blend out the red smokey eye he had decided on, before handing over the eyeliner so he could do his winged eyeliner. It was a good look and really made his eyes look nice.

“Don’t say it.”

“I won’t.”

Just then Ty Lao came rushing in and plopped down in the seat next to Ty Ken grumbling, “Ty Woo said my mascara was smudged. Is any of the waterproof stuff left?”

“Yeah,” Ty Ken answered, before handing over the mascara he had just used on his own lashes to their sister.

She looked relieved, as she excepted it and started to fix it, asking, “So, are the two of you ready for the show we are putting on for the Princess?”

“Totally, I showed Azula the acrobatic routine I am planning was and she liked it,” Ty Lee answered, as she made a note that they would need to get more mascara. “I think she is going to love your dance routine you have planned.”

“Thank you! Ty Woo saw it and she-” Ty Lao started, before Ty Woo popped her head in and finished, “It looked like something that a noseless shirshu would come up with.”

“I think it is nice,” Ty Ken snapped back, accepting the mascara back once Ty Lao was done with it, and went back to work on his lashes.

Ty Woo groaned, “Make your lashes any longer and you’ll cut them off with your swords, Ty Ken.”

“At least my special skill is good enough to perform, Ty Woo.”

Their sister only answered by rolling her eyes and retorting, “At least I’m not adopted, Sword Boy.”

“Love you to, Jerk,” Ty Ken answered, as he tossed the mascara off to the side.

And with that Ty Woo gave him a soft smile before she vanished from the room.

Ty Ken looked at himself in the mirror for a moment like he was unsure of something.

And well Ty Lee understood because Ty Ken hadn’t been to the palace since he was still Zuko. His nervous aura was completely understandable. He was eleven when he left that life behind him, and some soldiers were still assigned to investigating his disappearance. There was a lot that could go wrong.

And they hadn’t even told their parents who Ty Ken actually was.

But Ty Ken didn’t look much like Zuko had, so it wasn’t like anyone but Mai and Azula would recognize him. And that was only because those two actually knew the truth about Ty Ken.

It didn’t take very long for them to finish getting ready for Azula’s birthday, and then they were headed to the palace with the rest of their family.

“You’ll be fine,” Ty Lum assured him, as she entered the makeup room and kissed the top of his head. “You are amazing with swords and please tell me there is some mascara left over for me.”

“The backups are in the locked case that I definitely don’t know how to pick the lock of, Ty Lum,” He answered producing another mascara out of said case, before handing it to her and giving her a smile.

“I don’t know why you use so much mascara. If I had eyebrows like yours I would try to draw more attention to them,” She giggled as she accepted the mascara and sat down next to Ty Lee.

Ty Lao turned to her and asked, “So did you figure out how to turn origami into something you can do as a performance?”

“Really really big paper.”

“Smart.”

“Thank you.”

Ty Lat peaked her head in and announced, “We need to get going so Ty Ken time to put the mascara down.”

“I just finished my lashes, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

His sisters giggled, as he slipped one of the spare mascara’s into his pocket, but he ignored them, as he got up and left to go grab his dao swords.

He seemed happier living with them than he had been living in the palace.

Ty Lee watched her brother leave, a soft smile on her face.

“It is kind of sad that Ty Lat can’t do her swim program for the Royal Family,” Ty Lao sighed as she put the mascaras back into the lockbox and locked it.

Ty Lee nodded and followed her sisters out of the room.

 Ty Le and her brother ended up in the carriage with Ty Lin and Ty Liu, who were going over their sheet music for the event. They didn’t bother to try and talk to them, since the last few times they had when those two were pouring over their music they snapped at them and hid Ty Ken’s mascara.

And well he may have burned down part of their private forset because of that.

Normally though they got along with Ty Ken and he would play the tsungi horn with them.

Once they got there they made their way to backstage of the stage that had been set up for their performances.

Ty Liu checked over her harp, while Ty Lin got her flute out of its case, and the rest of them got set up for their numbers.

Ty Woo and Ty Lat introduced themselves to their audience, before welcoming Ty Lum onto the stage so she could open the show with her massive origami crown of fire, while Ty Liu and Ty Lin started the first song of the night.

Ty Lao was up next with her dancing, and Ty Lee followed replacing her as the music changed tempo to match with her kart wheels and summersaults.

Azula seemed pleased by the show even if the Fire Lord seemed to not be paying any attention, instead choosing to say something to General Iroh. Whatever he’d said seemed to upset the man, as Iroh grimaced and made the point of not looking at his brother.

The music took a sudden dramatic turn, and Ty Lee shot herself up into the rafters, as a plum of fire unfolded beneath her like a blooming lotus blossom, and there stood Ty Ken with his swords.

She watched him twist and slice, ribbons of fire bursting from his swords.

Watching him with his swords was like watching Ty Lao dance. The music swelling with his movements, as he burned his way across the stage like he was a shadow sending up a prayer to Agni.

He finished his routine using his swords to send a burning dragon shooting up into the sky.

And then all was quiet.

Azula began clapping with as much enthusiasm as a princess was allowed to, and the others watching began to follow suit until Ozai stood and roared, “SILENCE!!!!”

Zuko flinched.

“You dare to dishonor me like this, you insolent whelp?!”

Zuko’s eyes went wide. Ozai had recognized him.

The Fire Lord stormed over to the stage, and Zuko scrambled back, as the man leaped onto the stage.

Zuko tripped and fell backward.

Everyone was frozen, as Zuko began to plead with the Fire Lord,  “It’s not what it looks like, Father! I didn’t mean you any-”

But Zuko’s pleas were cut off by screams and burning flesh.

All hell broke loose, as Ty Lee and her sisters reacted.

Ty Lee dropped down from the rafters and jabbed the Fire Lord with her chi blocking, as Ty Liu and Ty Lat rushed to throw Ozai from the stage.

Mai, while not one of Ty Ken’s sisters, joined the fight with her throwing knives.

General Iroh stood and for a moment Ty Lee feared he would attack them, but instead he attacked an approaching guard, as Azula rushed onto the stage and helped her get Ty Ken to his feet.

Neither of them willing to look at what remained of his face, as they ran with the other Ty Sisters, Mai, and General Iroh, fleeing the palace.

“Happy Birthday Princess, we’re all traitors,” Ty Woo groaned, as they burst through the palace gates and onto the streets of the city.

Azula responded with her trademark smirk, “Well, at least it wasn’t boring.”

At least General Iroh had a ship in the dock that they could use to flee to the Earth Kingdom.

Ty Lee didn’t chi block the Fire Lord of all people just to let her brother die after all.

#flameo-hotman #atla #avatar the last airbender #ask the hotman #zuko adoption menu #zuko #ty lee #ty lee's sisters

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 2

Well I meant to only write a one-shot but oops, I just kept going. 

This is Chapter 1 but from Ivar’s POV. We also get to see some family dynamics there and why he was acting towards Kari like he did. 

A huge thanks again to @saritanotserena​ for help with the moodboard. 

Words:4200

Warnings: swearing, mild sexual content

If you need to catch up, Chapter 1. 

Series Masterlist

"Fuck." The word dropped from his mouth with all the impact of a grenade. Somehow even just uttering the word solidified what he had just been told. 

 Running his tongue along his teeth, he huffed then slipped his phone into his back pocket. His brothers were not going to be happy. He glanced up at the moon as if hoping it would give him answers, but she was a fickle bitch and just shone down on him, surrounding him in shadows. Somewhere he had spent most of his life anyway, where he felt most comfortable now. Not forever though. He promised himself that. He would not spend forever in the shadows. 

 Turning around, he yanked the 'employee only' door open and slipped back into the raucous club. His thoughts tore relentlessly through his mind as he walked down the darkened corridor. It was easy to dismiss the blasting music, the bright lights, the drunken cheers from inside the club. It was all superficial, all irrelevant. His mind focused on the important things. At least what he deemed important for his intellectual mind. Tomorrow, he was leaving for a business trip to the Mediterranean and with the way things were playing out….it would certainly not be boring. He could already taste the blood on his tongue. A venomous smile hinted at the corners of his lips at the thought. 

 Walking down the crowded hallway, leading to the main floor of the club, people instantly jumped out of his way. If it was due to the scowl on his face or the knowledge of who he was, he did not care. They were all beneath him. A couple of the women tried to make eye contact, to slither closer in hopes of gaining his attention. He ignored them. They had better luck gaining favors from one of his brothers. He wondered if that was part of their draw to him, for how few women he allowed to entertain him. It mattered not. 

 A twinge in his leg caused him to step to the side of the hallway for a second and pause. The pain was mild, something he constantly endured. Pain- his ever-constant companion. Closer to him than his own family. This twinge told him he had spent far too long on his feet today, especially without his cane. He snarled at himself, at his own disability, his inadequacy. Before self-loathing could sink in, he pushed the feeling away. No more. He would rise above this, as he always did. There was no other choice. The gods bestowed this curse upon him, he would make sure they regretted it. 

 For once though, he wished the gods would bless him. 

 Just as he started to move forward, a blonde woman crashed into another woman that had been walking in his direct path but seemed not to notice due to her facing the ground. The blonde ran into the smaller brunette then continued onward without notice or care after righting herself. Unconsciously, his hand darted out to grab the arm of the brunette woman before she fell ungraciously at his feet. Normally, he was not so selfless. His typical response would be to taunt and laugh at the woman at his feet. Make some comment about how he had no need for her to worship at his feet. But as soon as he grabbed her, kept her upright, he wondered why she was different. Why his usually barbed words were silenced.

 Her hands fisted the front of his Armani shirt as if clinging to a sinking ship and hoping for salvation. He would have laughed at any other time for he was the furthest from salvation; but her head tipped up and he felt himself freeze. Her eyes widened meeting his and for a fleeting moment he wondered what she saw when looking at him. He peered down at her, the top of her head just under his chin. Her chocolate hair hung loosely behind her, reaching a couple inches past her shoulders. Pale, pink lips glistened under the lights, distracting him for a moment with the way they glistened. Dark eyeliner and a smoky color highlighted her blue-green eyes that reminded him of the sea, swirling and enchanting.  What surprised him most was the seemingly innocent look in those ocean eyes. Even her features seemed so girl-next-door and innocent that he wondered what someone like her was doing in a place like this. 

 His hand still held onto her. He needed to let go but found himself reluctant to. She was a mystery that he found himself wanting to unravel. He placed the words on his tongue to make a quip, to return to his comfortable aloof manner but not fast enough…

 For she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. 

 A myriad of emotions flooded him at the sensation of her gentle kiss. So profound were the conflicting feelings, he stood as a statue, unmoved for concern of what his actions would tell. Though he had been kissed before, those were always alcohol or lust fueled, and even then only minimal for they represented a precursor to what he actually wanted. This felt like nothing he had ever experienced before, it was soft and gentle, like the touch of a butterfly's wing. Yet it also unleashed something in him desiring more. More of the softness she unwittingly offered, something his life was void of. Lastly though, it burned his soul because no one like her ever came to him willingly or because they wanted him. There was always a catch, always something they wanted. He was never good enough. He was never enough. 

 "Are you drunk?" He blurted out without caution or remorse. The lingering taint of tequila on her breath alerted him that she was not entirely sober. 

 "What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She began blabbering, cheeks turning a lovely pink even through her sun-kissed skin. 

 He stared at her a long time, unsure what to do next. He prided himself on his ability to make decisions, to plan and see corners when others only saw a straight line. It was also not unknown his ability to predict how others would think and react, and he used that to his own advantage often. But with her, he was unsure. He knew it would be wisest to push her away, to return to his brothers and tell them the news that had him in a foul mood. Yet he found himself leaning towards the alternative, curious to see what she would do next, what her sweet kiss meant, to stare into her beguiling eyes more and taste those pretty, pink lips again. 

 "Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and taking a step to the side. 

 "Wha…. what?"

 He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you." Here was the test. Here would decide how they both reacted. Mentally, he prepared himself for rejection and prepared a sharp barb on his tongue only for it to be silenced with her quiet, stuttered acceptance. 

 "Ohhh….um, ok."

 Glancing over her quickly, he turned on his heel and started towards the VIP section before she could see the surprise and shock on his face. He hated how her acceptance momentarily warmed his heart. He promised himself he would continue to test her, to make sure she was not feigning desire. For if she was, he had no problem giving her a taste of his anger and retribution for being played. His brothers had learned long ago to forgo what they thought was helpful by throwing women at him. Those same women usually returned to his brothers in tears and cursing his name due to the intimidation and demeaning he showered them in. 

 He led her to an unoccupied section, grateful that the space his brothers sat at was further away and they seemed preoccupied with their own revelry. Without a word, he dropped onto the couch, his legs thanking him for the reprieve. He turned to her and could not help but slide his heated gaze over her body. Standing there in her short, tight, black dress and wicked heels, he found his mouth suddenly dry. What she wore was pure temptation, flattering her delicious curves and elongating her legs to a point where he wondered what she would do if he dragged his tongue from her toes all the way up to her hip. It was the way that she lightly bit her lower lip, looking both excited and shy that caused his member to harden beneath him. 

 Silently, he held out his hand, beckoning her closer. A thrill raced down his spine as she took her hand and let him guide her to straddle his lap. 

 "Good girl." He murmured, pleased by her actions. 

 As her lips descended once more upon his, where last time he was unmoved, this time he took control. His hands gripped her ass, holding her against him as his mouth dominated. His tongue greedily worshiped her mouth, drawing her tongue into a sensual dance that earned a moan from her. Unable to stop, he found himself powerless to tear his mouth from hers. It was like the sweetest ambrosia he ever tasted. Her mouth was both sweet and filthy and he wanted to drown in the taste. 

 When her lips retreated, he almost snarled at losing their touch. Instead he dropped his mouth to her chest, lavishing the line of her cleavage with his mouth and tongue. 

 "Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered. He could get drunk just off the taste of her. His tongue traced the tops of her breasts once more before moving up her chest and neck to suckle just below her earlobe, wanting to leave his mark. In more than one place. When a soft purr escaped her due to his touch, he could not help the possessive way he held her tighter, needing her closer, needing to hear that sound again. 

 Her hands grasped his face, forcing their lips to meet again and it was all he could do to suppress the pleased growl in his throat. Her hips began grinding fervently above him and he knew she was lost to the throes of pleasure. 

 "Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth. He watched as she threw her head back, mouth open. Continuing to grind under her, he decorated her skin with hot, open-mouth kisses and sucking occasionally, wanting to leave evidence of his touch on her. So she could not forget him easily. To mark her as his. For after this, she would surely be his. He watched her unashamedly as her orgasm hit her. Her lips parted, eyes closed and head thrown back, she was the most beautiful creature in this moment he had ever laid eyes on. 

 "What…." He watched as she licked her lips, seeming to struggle with forming a coherent statement once the blinding pleasure dissipated. "What, um, was that?"

 "What are you talking about?" He asked smugly, as he continued to place open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations. His member was rock-hard under him and demanding attention. Soon enough, he would have her on her knees before him. He wanted to see those pretty, pink lips he enjoyed so much wrapped around his cock. 

 "Um, that feeling… I just...wow…." She stuttered out, voice wavering. 

 He stopped his ministrations, a realization dawning upon him. He tilted his head slightly to hold her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

 He could see the panic that filled her eyes before she even moved. As soon as she tried to dart away like a skittish animal, he pinned her to him, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and kept a firm grip on her hip with the other. 

 "You never have…." He murmured aloud. Truthfully, virgins were an elusive breed due to his social circle and work. Especially virgins coming to him. This information also drew forth a caveman feeling that inflamed his blood and made his member strain with even more painful pressure. He was the first to touch, the first to give her pleasure. It made him want to lay her down and have her right there on the couch, uncaring of anyone who walked by. He wanted to hear her purr under him, to drag her nails down his back. He wanted to claim her, to never let another man touch her. That only he would bring her pleasure. He wanted to corrupt and taint her, but also worship her as his goddess. 

 "Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He knew the answer but wanted to hear her say it. Needed her to confirm it. 

 "Please," she whined. He was unsure if her plea was to save her from speaking out loud her innocence or to continue lavishing her with pleasure. Either way, he could tell she was at his mercy and he loved it. 

 Deliberately slow, he leaned closer to her, hovering his mouth over hers. The way her breath hitched, her eyelashes fluttered, her hands tightening on his shoulders, he knew she wanted him. 

 "Kari!'

 His pretty kitten jerked at the call, drawing her gaze to two women standing at the entrance of the VIP section with the bouncer.  

 "It's time to go!" One of them yelled over the music. 

 He narrowed his eyes at them, angry that they were stealing her attention. The one who called out ignored him, keeping her eyes on the brunette in his lap while the other practically bounced on her toes, nervousness evident. Clearly, they knew who he was. He smirked, a dark and devious look that caused both to stiffen even from far away. He licked his bottom lip as if tasting their fear in the air. 

 "I have to leave." She quietly said when she turned back to him. Any other person he would have assumed she would be pleased to abandon him, that this whole thing was a set up and now her friends were coming to 'rescue' her. Staring up at her, he could see the guilt in her eyes, the lust still dancing there. 

 There was still his question he wanted answered before he even considered letting her go, which he was becoming more and more reluctant to. He dropped his head, nuzzling her neck after brushing her hair away before whispering into her ear. "Answer my question first." 

 "I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

 He forced her gaze to meet his, lips ghosting over hers. "Answer. Me." He snapped, not pleased with her trying to get out of answering. 

 Finally, her answer came out in a barely heard whisper. "Yes."

 He paused, both surprised and elated by her confession. Immediately, he slammed his lips to her with abandon, forcing her into a needy kiss, coaxing her tongue to dance with his again. A lusty moan from her filled the nonexistent space between them and he answered with a growl. He desired her. More than just a lustful want. No, he found himself enthralled by her innocence but also the way she clung to him as he alone kept her tied to this world, instead of floating away on waves of pleasure. 

 "Stay." He whispered against her lips. 

 "I can't …."

 "I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." He stated, rolling his hips under her, his hard cock rubbing against her hot core. Gods, he wanted to keep touching her. Never before had a woman enthralled him as much as she did. He could not, would not, relinquish her. She was his. 

 "Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

 The hint of panic in her voice dulled his lust. It was her words, confirming her want of him that placated him for now; but he would let her go on his terms, not on hers' and especially not on her meddlesome friends' that continued to stare at them. 

 Slowly, as if to prove he still controlled the situation, his grip loosened on her. His thumb caressed her pulse point, loving the erratic beat due to his presence and touch. His other hand trailed up her body as if to memorize it once more before taking her hand. In an uncharacteristic show of affection, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes beheld her own, the blue-green color swirling and making him feel adrift at sea. Everything in him screamed to keep her in his lap, to not let her go. But there was something different about her, something that demanded care and tenderness, which confused him. She was the first woman besides his mother to show him such soft affection, to make him feel strangely safe. As he sat there staring at her, he felt that he was watching the sun set, beauty radiating enough to take his breath, but he feared the sun would never rise again on them. 

 "KARI!"

 She jolted at the frantic call of her name, tearing her eyes away. If he had no longer been tethered to her, her hand in his, he would have pulled out the knife hidden on his body and thrown it at her friend who kept interrupting them. It would bring him satisfaction to see the knife protruding from her thigh…. he had no intentions of killing her…. unless she interrupted him and his kitten once more. 

 He turned back to her, hoping to draw out a few more moments. "Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

 "I hope so." She smiled tenderly at him, then stepped away and walked towards her friends. 

 His gaze traced over her curves as she walked away, watching her hips sway and those tantalizing legs he wanted to caress. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His gaze flickered back up to her friends. When he saw the one who kept calling her was watching him, a menacing smile grew and his gaze hardened. He was pleased to see her visibly stiffen and scurry away. 

 To his surprise, before fully descending the stairs, the pretty brunette looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze once more. In his mind, he begged her to come back, to return to him. Though the words would never cross his lips. He never begged. His pride and ego would never allow it. Nor would it allow him to chase after her to get her full name or phone number. 

 Then she disappeared amongst the crowd just as quickly as she appeared in his life. 

 His head and shoulders dropped as if an invisible weight had been placed on him. He sat there for a long moment, his mind reviewing everything that just occurred. He also needed his enraged cock to settle before he even attempted to get up. The sounds of her moans in his ear, the soft feel of her skin, how she fit perfectly in his lap as if made by the gods especially for him, that damn purring noise she made as he licked her almost made him blow his load. All of it he never wanted to forget. Though, remembering was not helping him to calm down. There was something different about her, a mysterious quality he wanted to discover and explore, just as much as her body. It was the way she held him unafraid that beguiled him the most. From the way her friends reacted, he knew they understood who he was. But her…. he had the impression she did not know him or what he was. Normally he would be offended, but not with her. She was special. His kitten. 

 With a grunt, he heaved himself off the couch to return to his brothers. At this point they probably figured he had abruptly left or been abducted. Depending on the brother, abduction might be preferable.  

 *****

 "Ivar! There you are!" Ubbe exclaimed, lifting his glass up as Ivar rounded the corner to enter their secluded area. "We were beginning to think you had somewhere more important to be."

 The youngest Ragnarson rolled his eyes as he dropped down onto the couch near Hvitserk. 

 "Who called?" Hvitserk asked, looking at Ivar over his glass. 

 Before answering or meeting the questioning looks of his three brothers, Ivar reached forward and grabbed his beer he had left behind and quickly drained it. Once done, he rolled the cup momentarily between his hands before speaking. "Mother."

 "And what could she possibly want now?" Sigurd drawled, an arm slung over his latest girlfriend. Ivar no longer even tried to remember their names, they were exchanged so often. 

 "Sigurd…." Ubbe reprimanded, giving him a side-glance before looking back at Ivar. His harlot girlfriend, Margrethe, leaned against his side, hand tracing patterns on his thigh. 

 The raven-haired brother sighed before straightening.  "She said she's coming to visit next week."

 Sigurd dropped his head back dramatically onto the back of the couch with a groan while Ubbe solemnly nodded and took a sip of his drink. Margrethe grimaced and muttered something under her breath that caused Ubbe to look sharply down at her. Only Hvitserk seemed unphased by the news, eyes meeting Ivar's for a brief moment before looking back over to watch those on the dance floor. 

 Ivar himself had mixed emotions when it came to his mother. He undoubtedly loved her the most out of anyone in the world. Her presence could also feel strangling at times.  

 "So," Hvitserk started with a smirk on his face, his gaze shifting to Ivar once again, "you going to tell us what took you so damn long to get back? I doubt the phone call took that long."

 Ivar narrowed his eyes at his brother. He knew his brother was playing a game with him and if the smirk said anything, Hvitserk knew why he had taken so long to return to their couches. "Fuck off, Hvitty."

 His brother chuckled while the others around the table looked on in confusion. 

 "Someone care to explain…." Ubbe said. 

 "No." For some reason Ivar found himself not wanting to talk about her. He had heard on more than one occasion how his brothers talked and compared their conquests. Ivar never joined those conversations, not because he was ashamed but he liked his privacy. 

 "Ah, come on, Ivar. She was beautiful, even if I could only really see the tight grip you had on her ass while she straddled you…. hell of an ass." Hvitserk teased. 

 Ivar slammed his glass down on the table, making the table and other glasses rattle precariously. "You say another damn word and I'll break your fucking jaw."

 His second eldest brother raised his hands in a show of surrender but the mischief in his eyes let Ivar know their conversation was not over yet. 

 "What? Ivy found himself a girl?" Sigurd scoffed. "Probably had to pay her to suck his cock."

 "Shut the fuck up." Ivar snarled. 

 "Enough, you two." Ubbe rubbed a hand down his face in exasperation. He glanced over at his youngest brother. "Care to explain?"

 Ivar was not stupid; he could see the intrigue in his eldest brother's face but it did nothing to move him. Instead he leaned back, and turned his gaze to look over the dance floor below. Soon a new conversation started up amongst his brothers but he paid no mind. His attention was on thoughts of her once again.

 "You get her number?" Hvitserk asked quietly after a while. Sigurd had disappeared with his girlfriend while Ubbe and Margarthe were talking and fondling one another. 

 "Does it matter?" Ivar retorted with a devious smirk. That answer made Hvitserk laugh out loud. The youngest Ragnarson had the uncanny ability to find someone when he put his mind to it. On more than one occasion their father had used that talent to find someone that had crossed him. 

 "Hey, ignore Siggy and Ubbe. She seemed into you. Try and get in touch with her, but for fuck's sake, don't stalk her." The two chuckled at that before Hvitserk turned serious again. "What was her name? Or were you too busy getting her off to ask?"

 He mock-glared before looking away. Out of all his brothers, he was definitely closest to Hvitserk. He was the most cool-headed out of all of the Lothbroks and quiet. He was slow to anger but did not shy away from unleashing his fury and bloodlust when the time called for it. Ever since they were children, somehow the two of them clicked compared to any of the other brothers. The second eldest also seemed able to pick up Ivar's moods with ease and knew when to leave the volatile Lothbrok alone. 

 After several silent seconds, Ivar finally whispered. "Kari." Even her name tasted sweet on his tongue. Surveying the club, he promised himself that he would find her. By the gods, he would see her once again and have her. For even if he did not want to admit it fully to himself, he was already addicted to her taste and touch and the mystery about her. And he had never been known to give up on something that fascinated him….and she was no exception.

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