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ccbunnv · 9 days

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hi baby idk if ur still doing reqs but i need 2008 bill fluff 😔😔 i need hopelessly romantic bill and reader who have no experience in dating but have a crush on each other 😔😔 the band and reader’s friends tell the two that they like one another but r in denial denial denial ok ilysm

the weather and school is making me unproductive. i wish i could write shorter but the ideas keep coming, mb guys

˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 bill x fem! reader fluff

out of everything in the studio, you find your eyes fixated on one person and one person only. the way his eyebrows arch, the black eyeshadow, the expression on his face as he sings, it makes your heart beat twice as fast.

you purse your lips, toying with the cold cola can in your hands. your friends eye you with grins playing on their faces, whispering amongst themselves on how in love you looked whenever you faced Bill.

that's absurd. you, liking Bill? you and him were just friends. really good friends who shared a bed and one time, a kiss, during one of his concert afterparties. but sharing a bed and a kiss doesn't mean anything...

even though you think about the exchange often.

but well, what's done is done, and you'd rather have lost your first kiss to him anyways. you snap your head over at your friends, "quit it."

"he's just a friend," you continue, "nothing more."

"please, y/n." your friend says, "you do like him."

"no I don't." you say, "just because he's pretty and I'd rather sleep with him than anybody else doesn't mean I like him. it's just that I trust him, you know?"

"well, I trust him too, but I wouldn't let him hit it like that." another friend giggles, "admit it, you like him!"

"I don't!" you huff, placing your cola can down on the coffee table and crossing your arms.

your friends roll their eyes and laugh, poking fun at you for a feeling as simple as trust. but is it seriously trust? in reality, you don't know.

common symptoms of falling in love include fastened heartbeats, sweating of the palms, red face, sudden nervousness and an obvious stammer. while you do experience almost everything when with him, you doubt it means that you like him!

...right?

𓆩♱𓆪

his eyes settle on you as you retaliate on your friends' constant teasing of your unknown feelings towards him. he feels a little bit disappointed that your attention isn't on him instead; even his manager stated that he sung better today, just for her.

he even wore his best in hopes of impressing you. his favourite shirt, jeans, and he even took the time to properly do his dreads today, rather than toss on a bonnet and leave the apartment. given, he's extremely nervous, since you're going to be in the studio.

he bites his lower lip in frustration, gently nipping at it, hoping you'd look at him once and then shy away like you usually do. to him, it's cute when you do that.

he looks back at the band members and find them staring at him with a smug look upon their faces. he blushes and exclaims, "was!?"

"du bist ausgepeitscht. (you are whipped.)" Georg comments easily.

"Nein, bin ich nicht. Hör auf. (no, I am not. stop it.)" he responds, glaring at the older bass player.

"Es ist so offensichtlich, Bill. (it's so obvious, Bill.)" Gustav says, pulling his headphones down to rest on his shoulders.

"Befolgen Sie meinen Rat als Ihr älterer Bruder, Frauen mögen es, wenn Sie die Initiative ergreifen. (Take my advice as your older brother, women like it when you take the initiative.)" Tom shrugs, strumming his acoustic guitar a few times more.

Bill rolls his eyes and looks away from the group. he rolls his eyes at their antics, finding them immature and childish. but in truth, he doesn't know either.

his eyes seem to gravitate towards you. red seeps to his face as he notices that you're finally looking at him, watching as he sings with his friends. his heart drums in his ribcage, and he can't find his own voice within the fast yet coordinated, "badump, badump"

you wave at him with a gentle smile, causing him to lose his breath almost instantly. he swallows the lump in his throat, before shakily waving back at you.

Tom breaks out into a frenzy of laughter, slapping his knees at how inexperienced Bill was acting. the shy waving, blushing, it was all endearing to watch, but in reality, he was aching for them to confess already. Gustav and Georg were rooting for them as well.

Bill's head snaps over to Tom and he huffs, "nicht lustig. (not funny.)"

"ziemlich lustig für mich. (pretty funny to me.)" Tom replies, grinning.

he rolls his eyes again. one more time and he fears he might as well lose his eyeballs in his eye sockets.

with a signal from the producer, the session was officially over. he's the first to leave his seat and swing the door open to greet you.

"hey," he says, a big, goofy grin on his face.

"hi." you reply, feeling equally as goofy.

your friends and his eye eachother, before giggling and whispering to themselves about you two. normally you'd both be bashing them in right now on how you're just friends, but you just can't tear your eyes away from him.

he says softly, "so, um...where do you wanna go?"

"I'm not sure." you reply, your tone matching his.

"how about um, my place? I got this cool new horror DVD called Martyrs. we could watch it together, if you want." he says.

you nod, "sure, why not? how about you guys?"

your friends and his simultaneously pull away at the sound of his voice and begin to make up excuses.

"oh, uh, I have to clean my room." --definitely.

"sorry, my mom says I have to be at home like, right now." --okay, you can see that.

"I'm picking up a girl tonight, so no." --that was the truth.

"I'm trying out a new recipe later..." --the truth as well.

"uh, er...my girlfriend and I...have a date later!" --the truth...ish?

and as in sync as before, they all charge off to their respective locations, leaving only Bill and you. you both lock eyes, before breaking into laughter and saying, "if they didn't want to, they could've just said so."

you feel Bill's arm creep around your waist, holding you close. your face starts to warm up and your heart begins to race, but you keep silent and walk back to his place with him.

𓆩♱𓆪

you grip the blanket tightly as scenes of torture fills your vision. you wince at every scream, trying to back away while Bill watches on without a care in the world. sometimes, you wonder what's going through his mind.

you try to hide during one especially painful torture scene, but he simply smiles and pats your head while he continues to watch.

it fills your stomach with dread and anxiousness to even think about what you had just watched. this movie is gruesome.

his hand soon travels back down to your waist and he holds you close, before whispering in your ear, "it's just fiction. it's not real, y/n."

you nod shakily, looking back up only to be greeted with the scene of the main character being flayed alive. you could feel your lunch rushing up your throat, but you persisted and looked away.

he chuckles and says, "scared?"

ashamed, you nod.

another low chuckle escapes from his throat and he grabs the blanket all of a sudden, throwing it over your head and suddenly wrapping his arms around you.

it's dark and tight, but you find the exit soon after. you poke your head out and find yourself staring right at him, a smile playing on his lips. he says, "now?"

you shake your head, slightly thankful.

your eyes settle on his lips while he continues to watch the movie. without a second thought, you lean in to press your lips against his.

it's quick and soft, pulling away almost as abruptly as you kissed him.

he looks back at you in shock, before grinning and pressing his lips against yours again. you squeak, trying to reciprocate before he pulls away and kisses you once more.

he repeats his action multiple times, and as he finally pulls away for the final time, you're covered in his kisses. he laughs and says, "are you okay?"

"I'm okay." you whisper softly, "...Bill?"

"yeah?" he murmurs, continuing to watch the movie.

the words get stuck in your throat. your heart pounds in your chest. you've denied it for so long, shaking the thoughts of liking him out of your head as long as they were present, feeling your gut wrench whenever he's with another girl...

with a big leap of courage, you tell him, "I love you."

you've never seen his irises move from the screen to you so quickly. it takes him a while, but with his heart practically leaping out of the thresholds of his body, he responds, "I love you too."

you wriggle your arms out of the blanket cocoon and wrap them around his neck, before kissing him once more. this time, just a little bit more deeper, passionate, and truthful.

𓆩♱𓆪

#tokio hotel #y2k #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #fluff #bill kaulitz fluff #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fanfic

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possibilistfanfiction · 3 months

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Surgeons au: "please take a break"

[idk where this started & idk where this went but boy is it soft lol]

beatrice is exhausted.

you get home — to her house, but you have a key and most of your things have migrated over steadily: a drawer for your underwear; your favorite coffee roast in the cabinet; your spare cane in the corner of the bedroom; the garden you’d planted and tended in the back yard in full bloom now — and see her slumped over, her head in her hands, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. it’s been like this for days, since she lost a patient from a routine surgery that went badly and then went worse than badly. it wasn’t her fault, not at all, but beatrice, you’ve found, despite her reticence and calm, is a person who feels everything deeply. for all of your differences, you think this is maybe the similarity that makes the most sense to you, the one that lets you navigate what she needs when things are too big and too near and impossibly sad.

she lifts her head, a blush rising to her cheeks, when you come in from the garage. ‘oh,’ she says, like she lost track of time; she probably did.

‘hello to you too.’

she smiles apologetically. ‘hello, darling.’

you toss your tote on the couch; on a normal day, when things aren’t so heavy, this would make her sigh in fond exasperation, but now she just waits, still, for you to slip your shoes off and pad over to her.

‘i’m all sweaty,’ she says, holding up a hand before you can hug her. you glance down and see that she’s still in a pair of her climbing pants and an old hoodie, her hands still slightly dusty with chalk.

‘you went to the gym?’

she nods, and you spare her the lecture of why it’s a bad idea to go bouldering after a marathon shift, especially when she hasn’t been sleeping even on her days off.

‘i just needed something else to think about, to — to feel with my hands.’

you’re, like, the most mature person in the world now, basically, because you read the room and refrain from making one of many of the dirty jokes that immediately pop into your head. it’s too easy anyway. ‘are you feeling better?’

she sighs, slumps even further onto the stool. ‘i’m feeling tired.’

‘yeah, i bet you are.’ you don’t care about her being sweaty, don’t care about any of it, really, but how to possibly comfort her. you rub your hand along her back, her perfect, strong spine, her exacting, taut muscles, the grief wedged between them all.

‘i have to read dr. adebeyo’s new research article, and review for my septal myectomy on thursday, and —‘

‘you’re not at work right now, babe.’

‘i can’t think of anything else.’

you don’t often ask things of her, mostly because she offers so much so readily but also because asking is still hard for you, impossible some days. but you’re working on it and, besides, this is for her: ‘please, please take a break.’ what happened wasn’t your fault, you want to say, but it would be too much and you get the feeling that she still isn’t quite ready to hear it yet.

she leans into your side then, a little awkward but bone-weary and still, you can tell, in love. it’s scared you for so long, what it’s like to be adored by someone, to be valued and admired; it’s the most terrifying thing you’ve ever felt in your life, worse than your accident and the scars along your back and the hollow of your throat and all the surgeries to follow, worse than the horribly hopeful future spread out in front of you when you got accepted to work with jillian, worse than when you matched with your dream program. beatrice simply is — in love with you, loving you — and, finally, finally, you’re starting to trust it.

‘you need a haircut,’ you say after a while — beatrice usually buzzes her hair every week, neatly and like clockwork, because ‘it’s easy, and, so i’ve been told at least, that it looks good,’ she’d told you, to which you’d rolled your eyes but had no argument against — and she snorts a laugh from where she’s pressed her face into your arm. it’s amused and exhausted, all at once. ‘i can do it, if you’d like.’

she waits for a moment, considers it. there’s the intimacy you’re familiar with: how warm her center is with your fingers curling inside, the way her mouth feels when you’re about to come. the way your body was able to feel during sex was the wildest, most heartbreaking discovery for you at first, but you settled into it with joy after a while. after chanel had very seriously given you a lecture your second week of college on how to be safe, it was fun and light and never so serious. with beatrice, it’s easy intimacy: you know that kissing her pulse point makes her arch her back and beg, that you know how to be kind, even when rough, every single time.

the intimacies of life, though, are where you sometimes both get stuck, the smallest parts of you that had hurt the most, that had had to heal so slowly, that you hold so tight to your chest. you hate playing all your cards, and you’re certain she does too: to be cared for can feel suffocating, in the wrong circumstances. to be cared for, though, you’ve discovered a few weeks ago when she brought you a heating pad and picked up the new pain medication your neurologist wanted you to try, in the right hands, in beatrice’s hands, is a miracle.

beatrice looks up at you, the question clear: you would do that for me?

you smile softly, lean down to kiss her like things are easy, like things are good. in so many ways, in the ways that sit in the marrow of your bones, they are.

she smiles back, finally, eyes brightening, unfurling after days trying to hide in the dark. ‘you think you can manage it?’

you nod. ‘you can trust me.’ it comes out so sincere, despite the fact that you add in a wink to try to dissipate it.

she straightens up, then, and squeezes your hand. ‘thank you, ava.’

you tell her, ‘of course,’ because, of course.

‘you know,’ she says a few minutes later, sitting on a kitchen chair in the big primary bathroom, her shirt discarded in the hamper in your room, ‘i’ve never let anyone do this for me before.’

‘really?’

‘yes.’ she’s quiet for a moment, the buzz from her clippers, with the guard she’d precisely put on, the only noise as you run them along her scalp. ‘well, it’s fairly simple, for one.’

you hum. ‘and for two?’

she rolls her eyes, shrugs, blushes. you love her. ‘i didn’t…’ she pauses, tries again, ‘it’s close.’

‘yeah.’

she meets your eyes in the mirror, quiet. you know from what she’s told you about her past, when she was younger, when she knew who she was but was made to feel scared and so ashamed : the tears and the heartache and how much she thought her life wasn’t worth anything, the heaviness that sits around her like a soft cloak sometimes, even still. but, right now, you see her, and you care for her, exactly as she is. it’s different than anything you’ve ever had before, more than you could’ve convinced yourself to want: she’s going to stay. she wants to stay.

a smile grows on her face and it’s like the whole world lightens. ‘lilith thought i was having a breakdown, the first time.’

you laugh, go over the spiraling, small cowlick a few more times so it’s all even. ‘was she maybe a little bit right?’

she hums. ‘a little, perhaps. but i’d been curious for a long time, and i knew — it would feel right. i knew it.’

you resist the urge to kiss the top of her head, one of your favorite activities, only just avoiding it when you brush all the little hairs from her bare shoulders and some of them stick to your hand. ‘well, it suits you. i mean, i think anything would suit you, probably, but i get it.’

her smile softens, just for you. ‘plus, my mother almost fainted the first time i went home for the holidays. worth its weight in gold, honestly, for both me and lil.’

it’s rare beatrice mentions her parents, especially in a way that encourages a little laugh to bubble out of her chest. you grin. ‘i would’ve paid to see that.’

she fiddles with her watch band, one of her only nervous tells, and then sighs. ‘well, they’re visiting in a few weeks, after my boards.’

you take the guard off and tilt her head forward slightly so you can clean up her neckline. it gives her time to take a deep breath, and for you to calm your nerves. ‘oh. how do you feel about that?’

‘i mean, well, it’s fine. i suppose this is the sort of things parents would be proud of.’

‘any sane parent would be, like, bursting at the seams proud of you. i need you to know that.’

‘i —‘ she pauses, puzzles through it. ‘i do, for the most part. when they’re a continent away, it’s different. easier.’

‘for sure.’ you walk around in front of her and brush hair off of her forehead, the tip of her nose which she scrunches up. you’d told a patient the other day, scared and hurting, that dr. choi was the best, and, in all the ways that matter — her steady hands and kind hugs and the stretch of freckles across her cheeks — you had meant it.

‘do you — would you like to meet them?’

you’d like to fucking punch them, but — ‘do you want me to meet them?’

‘yes,’ she says, certain and stoic. ‘you’re my partner, and we live together, and i’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.’

there’s such tenderness, such assuredness, the rain calming and her strong shoulders and the smile you feel on your face. it’s quiet, now, the clippers turned off and sitting on the counter. ‘we live together?’

‘that’s what you got from that?’

you shrug.

she takes your hand, laces your fingers together. ‘your lease is up next month, right?’

‘yeah.’

‘i can’t remember the last time you didn’t spend the night here, and i certainly can’t remember the last time i didn’t want you to.’

‘you’re full of big declarations today.’ it’s ineffective, because your laugh comes out as mostly a snot-filled snuffle when tears press at your eyes. you’ve never, really, had a home before.

beatrice just squeezes your hand.

‘you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with me?’

‘ah, there we go.’

‘you do know that i’m, like, a whole lot.’

‘yes,’ she says. ‘and i love you.’

just like that. just like that, and it’s so easy. ‘i love you too.’ you wipe under your eyes, grimace for a moment when stray hairs get stuck on your cheeks, but you let out a big breath. ‘i can’t promise i won’t at least tell your parents off.’

‘if they say anything that warrants that, i’m fine with you causing a scene if you’d like. shannon loves to, so she’ll have fun.’

‘i think that might be too much of an opening for me, honestly. i’ve been waiting to yell at them since like, two hours after i met you.’

‘there’s no way you knew after two hours on my service.’

‘i could sense the, like, childhood trauma, gentle, brooding, gay vibes. i’m talented that way.’

she rolls her eyes but she’s clearly so fond of you, still holding your hand. ‘well, shall i shower, and then we can order in? catch up on the traitors, maybe?’

‘god, that is my love language. for real, bea.’

‘would you like to shower with me?’

‘okay, i take it back. that is my love language.’

she laughs, and stands, and you clean up and get in the shower and kiss her. you don’t do anything more, not tonight, not when things are still the raw end of a live nerve wire, hurt dissipating near the surface. you cuddle on the couch and steal bites of her biryani and she falls asleep, warm and soft, her head resting on your chest while you scratch her scalp. you live her, for real, you think, as you pause the episode before the roundtable because she hates missing it even if she pretends to not care — asking for a full recap the next day — and then rouse her as gently as you can and lead her by the hand to bed, to rest.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡#surgeons au #idk! the INTIMACY! mary oliver was right!#the girls who get it get it (gender expansive)

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entishramblings · 4 months

Text

Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2

[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]

PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon

Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST

A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!

Request: none

Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader

Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/

Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem

Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.

Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.

“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”

“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”

“You have a moment?”

“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.

Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”

Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”

“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”

Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”

Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.

At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”

Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”

He nodded, swallowing dryly.

“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”

Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.

Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”

Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”

The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”

Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”

At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.

Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”

“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.

Boromir shook his head.

“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”

Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”

Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”

“Yes.”

Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”

Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.

“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.

….

That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.

And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.

(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.

(Y/N) gasped.

Her father had said…

He had tested them all…

None had the gift….

He lied.

Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.

Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.

Was this a dream?

(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.

Immediately, she felt it.

Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.

Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.

Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.

(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.

There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.

It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.

How dare he…

With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.

The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.

She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.

Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.

“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”

Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.

“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.

Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”

(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”

Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.

Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”

“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”

“You went to the surface—”

“How dare you not tell me, Father!”

“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”

“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.

With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.

She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.

(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.

The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.

Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.

Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.

Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.

The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.

Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.

Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.

(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.

Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.

As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.

Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.

Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.

“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.

(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.

Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.

He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”

(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.

(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.

Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.

Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”

In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.

Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”

They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.

“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”

The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.

Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”

She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?

“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.

A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”

Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.

“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”

Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.

Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”

“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”

He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"

(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”

The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”

She nodded slightly.

Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”

The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.

Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.

The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.

Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.

The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”

She shook her head.

“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?

“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”

She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”

Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”

Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.

Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.

“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.

He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.

Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.

“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.

Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.

“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.

Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”

She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.

Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.

"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.

“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”

At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.

“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”

The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.

“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”

(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”

The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."

She nodded in reply.

He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”

With that, he was gone.

(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.

Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.

…….

When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.

Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.

(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….

Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.

Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.

“Boromir?” she called out.

Silence.

Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.

(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.

He had kept it.

A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.

“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.

(Y/N) jumped, startled.

Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.

“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.

She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.

“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.

“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.

Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”

“Do you believe that?”

He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”

(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”

The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.

“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”

She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.

“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”

She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”

Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”

At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”

The captain raised a brow. “How far?”

(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”

She glared at him.

With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”

(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”

Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”

She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.

Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”

Silence.

Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”

At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.

Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”

(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”

“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.

With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.

A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.

“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.

Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.

He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”

“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.

“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”

(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.

The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.

(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.

Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”

She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”

He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”

She shrugged. “Far.”

(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.

The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.

Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.

“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”

His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”

“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”

Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.

His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.

Fuck the forbidden indeed.

As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.

Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.

…..

Everything Tag: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @heavenshumour @clairealeehelsing @starenemy @ceruleanrainblues @casuallyeating-blog @cheari @aheadfullofsteverogers @imthebadguyyy @beehivehappy @queenmariex @newjsns01

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Boromir Tag: @scyllas-revenge @lord-westley @callistobalisto

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#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #boromir #boromir x reader #Boromir/reader #boromir fic #boromir fanfic #boromir fanfiction #boromir x you #boromir/you #boromir one shot #boromir oneshot

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teecupangel · 4 months

Note

I really don’t want to add onto your pile of asks you’re working through but I had an idea I just had to send: the Ratatouille thing, but with like Altaïr controlling Ezio or some other combo of the ancestors congrolling each other!

Idk if Desmond’s there too or not, I’m mostly just imagining Ezio fanboying over being possessed by the Altaïr, while Altaïr is just acting annoyed at the whole thing but also fanboying himself over all the knowledge he now has access to.

And then imagine throwing the players into the equation. Just pure and complete chaos, somebody is screaming, guards are getting alerted and killed, and nothing’s actually getting done.

The Ratatouille AU where the ancestors can hear Desmond while ‘playing’, its more unhinged cousin, the Ratatouille AU where Desmond can hear us and the outside POV of Al Mualim thinking the Apple broke Altaïr. (I hope I didn’t forget anything else)

“It is truly an honor-”

“Yes, you’ve already said that.”

“Words cannot express-”

“Then don’t bother saying anything. No. Don’t open your mouth. I don’t have time for any of your insincere drivel.”

Ezio grew quiet as he stared at the open journal on the desk in front of him before he noted, “You are more easily irritated than I imagined.”

“Only when I’m around people who waste my time.” There was a half a second moment of silence before he added, “Or when the person I’m talking to is not saying what he truly wishes to say.”

Ezio rested one of his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his open palm, “It’s simply quite curious that the day I lost Desmond’s voice in my head is the day you tried to control me.”

“I was trying to connect to Desmond.” His voice was laced with annoyance and he took a deep breath before reminding Ezio, “As I explained before, it was never my intention to connect with you, Ezio Auditore. But now that I’m connected to you, I can’t even try to connect with Desmond at all.”

Ezio hummed.

Sure, he had been elated when Altaïr had introduced himself.

But, at the same time…

He had been worried.

According to Altaïr, he had learned of a way to connect to Desmond using the Apple after hearing a disjointed message that told him he should be able to do such a thing by forcing the Apple to do his bidding.

Altaïr was unsure himself because and he quoted, the voice ended the message with a ‘…. maybe? We believe in you, short king!’ which makes Ezio and Altaïr believe it was a message from one of the many voices that Desmond says he could hear.

Ezio had been worried because he lost Desmond’s voice a few days before Altaïr connected with him so he can’t help but think they were connected.

But both of them do not have any other clues other than the possibility that the Apple that he had been searching could hold a clue to why Altaïr had connected to him instead of Desmond.

And maybe Ezio himself could connect with Desmond as well…

Right now…

“Señor.”

Ezio closed the journal and put it on his bag as he quickly stood and turned towards the door.

“We will be docking in Barcelona shortly. Capitana told me to inform you that the guards will be checking the ship but they will start on the deck. They won’t be looking at the ‘place’ he showed you last time.”

“Grazie.” Ezio said with a nod even though the messenger could not see him, “Please give the captain my thanks as well.”

“I will, señor. Good luck.”

Ezio took a deep breath before he said, “As much as I would like to continue to look for the Apple, it’s important-”

“Oooohhhh. I don’t remember this cutscene.”

Ezio stopped.

That wasn’t Altaïr’s voice.

It was a woman…

“Hello?” Ezio asked as he looked around.

There was no answer.

Ezio opened his mouth-

“Are you one of Desmond’s voices?” Altaïr asked before he could.

There was a moment of silence before…

“Are… are you talking to me?”

“Yes.” Altaïr and Ezio answered at the same time.

The voice grew quiet once more before…

“Uuuuhhhh… shit. Did I… fucked my DS up???”

#it’s okay #i’m slowly getting to the end #sorta XD #yeah this is set on ac discovery #for a change of pace #and so desmond won’t be in it XD #don’t worry #the voices will grow in numbers once the player they got in contact with #starts talking to the others XD #there’s going to be a sudden influx #of people playing ac discovery #in different ways XD #assassin's creed #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #ask and answer

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anemonelovesfiction · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 2- Eating out

Neytiri x Avatar Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Literally in the title… hehehe

I have decided not to use Y/n in here- although it was hard for me not to, but I have also mostly written this chapter in Neytiri’s P.O.V and that was also a challenge? Hope you enjoy!

Where there is a small line break, the POV changes to reader :)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Translation Station

Olo’eyktan: Clan leader is

Ma’tsmuke: My sister

Tawtute: Sky person (Human)

Vrrtep: Demon

Iknimaya: Rite of passage

Sturmbeest: some animal they eat idk ( the word itself is not in Na’Vi … the Na’Vi word is talioang)

Word count: 4.2K

I’d taken it upon myself to remove myself from the given situation and not embarrass myself further. I had no real reason to have been upset with how friendly she was being with Jake, she had every right to be friendly with whomever she deemed necessary, but there was a foreign feeling in my chest as I watched them interact with one another and in my mind, me leaving was the perfect solution. In this way I could fake being tired and leave with my dignity intact and not be forced to watch the two become even closer than what they were.

There was something about an eligible Olo’eyktan that sparked interests in many females in the tribe, and sure she had gone through the same intense rigorous training that he had, and sure she too had become one of the people, but she hung out with Jake often and it was pretty much a clear sign that the two would attempt to mate and have half-breed children to fill the empty holes of the warriors and family we had lost.

But of course, instead of heading up the spirals of our newer home tree, I headed off to the spirit tree, making sure to thank Seze through our bond before disconnecting. Making my way toward the strange petals that dropped down- strange in the sense that they differed from any other leaf on any other tree here- but similar to me all the same. I grab a gentle hold of my kuru, swinging it around my shoulder and connecting it to the spirit tree, wanting to see the familiar face I’d grown to love and miss over time.

“What seems to trouble you tonight, ma’tsmuke?”

I smile at the familiar voice that brought warmth through my chest and place my finger on my forehead, not needing to say anything, as I extend and uncurl my finger the further it got from me. The unspoken ‘Oel ngati kameie’ we all use to communicate that we truly see one another.

“Why does anything need to trouble me for me to visit?” I ask as my smile dies down, the remnants of the feeling of my cheeks being stretched now slightly tickling my jaw, my eyes looking upon her and taking all of her in. It had been a while since I last visited her but I wondered if she could sense how distressed I felt at the moment.

“No,” She answers simply as she begins walking in the endless landscape of the forest, the home I’d grown used to, the home she once knew that no longer existed. “But I do know you, sister, and I understand when you are upset. So tell me, does it have anything to do with that tawtute?” She asks with a knowing soft smile.

I sigh and take a seat on the softened moss below me and she follows as she takes a seat next to me. We typically walked, ran, or hunted while we talked, but sitting was the biggest way we communicated that we had something to get off our chest without using words. She gently places a couple of braids that had fallen in my face behind my ear and waits for me to speak.

“I feel broken.” I admit but feel my throat constricting and finding the words I needed to explain the situation was suddenly becoming harder. I did not want to cry in front of Sylwanin or give her a reason to worry about me, but I was struggling with my emotions and couldn’t understand why this hurt so much, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to fall in love with a vrrtep.

“I understand the feeling very well.” She is soft spoken during these times when she is attempting to give me the space I need to speak. She is also very caring and nurturing and wants me to feel like I can trust her, and I do.

“I feel crazy, stupid even, for falling in love with a dream walker. For allowing myself to be blinded by believing she has become one of the people- when she is still attached to her old life just the same.” I explain and Sylwanin listens, nodding along as I speak.

“Have you shared with her how you feel?” She asks me with a light hand placed on my shoulder and I have to stop making eye contact, feeling my embarrassment grow further.

“When we were celebrating her and Jake becoming one of the people, after passing their iknimaya, I was placing paint on their bodies and told them that they have earned their place within our people. They would now also become one within Eywa, I told them they could choose a mate they found suitable and they eyed one another, I felt my heart break at that moment. I did not need to ask to know what they were silently agreeing to.” I shuddered after reminding myself the smiles they shared and felt utterly defeated.

“I do not feel they looked at each other as one does a potential mate, tsmuke.” I only shrug my shoulder to shake her hand off of it and give her a short hiss to prevent her from sweet talking me any further. She only smiles again and placed her hand on my knee, patting it several times with a small chuckle, I hiss again and she removes her hand, holding them up in surrender.

“I believe I need to let you go now, I will see you again at another time.” She stated whilst picking herself up and off the floor, dusting her loincloth of any remnants of dirt or moss that had held on to the threads between the design she had, I only furrow the skin of my brows in confusion as I stood myself.

“Whatever for, I have just gotten here, what is the rush?”

“There is someone patiently waiting for you.” She sends a smile my way. “Good luck to you on this beautiful night, tsmuke, may Eywa answer your prayers.” She gives me one last hug and upon the feeling of the breeze picking up, I could deduce that my consciousness had been placed back into the body that had stood with my kuru attached to the petal of the tree.

I open my eyes and turn around to see the very woman I had been trying to avoid. I look around to see if she had come alone- not that she would have come up here with Jake if either one of them had noticed me, I’m sure he was lingering not that far away from her as I looked around, but I couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

“Have a good visit?” Her voice rings pleasantly in my ears as they turn more toward her to hear her better, I hit myself upside the head mentally, trying to keep my reactions to a minimum, she was about to become a mated woman, I should not let my thoughts get ahead of themselves.

“Do not worry, I will not take up more of your night.” I pick up the bow my father had given me and head off in the direction I’d left Seze, I was still surprised I managed to evade the bullets coming her way, almost as if I knew where they were coming from and where they could have hit her.

“Hold on-“ She stated before grasping my arm and this stops me, not just my body, but my thought process as well. My tail flickers in excitement from her touch and I try to hide it by turning just as the movement was initiated, I put on my best blank stare as I look down at her, it was adorable how she was shorter than myself, she said it must have been something to do with her human DNA- whatever that meant.

“I do not wish to keep you and your mate waiting.” I stated curtly and her brows furrow.

“What do you mean? I came alone.” She shares and I seem to furrow the skin of my brows together in confusion.

“Where is Jake?” I asked quickly to cover my tracks but only feel like I’m digging a bigger hole for myself as I ask invasive questions that are not of my concern.

“Why does that matter? I wanted to tell you I have chosen who I wanted as my mate.” She recovers from her confusion quickly but overshares as most humans are known to do, but the fact that she was sharing this with me had me confused, was she wanting to rub it in my face, or did she genuinely not know what to do.

“Congratulations.” I mustered up enough strength to mention that word without putting much emotion behind it, struggling to keep my face from forming a scowl, now all I had to do was attempt to say goodnight and leave and force myself to move on while she remained happy. I turned once more and attempted to leave but she runs up to me and steps in front of me, preventing me from reaching Seze.

“Why are you so quick to run off, you don’t even know who it is.” She asks with the sweetest voice clearly holding some hurt in it and my ears flicker, my tail flicking behind me in annoyance with myself knowing I had caused her some kind of pain, but the movement was hidden behind my body.

“I would rather not stay here when Jake arrives and the two of you-“

“Jake?” The confusion drips off her voice like honey. “You mean Jake Sully, Jake?” She states again and the confusion was now evident on her face, her eyes squinting slightly, amusement swimming in her eyes as she laughs lightly. I scoff and switch my weight over toward my other foot as I cross my arms, how much longer was she going to prevent me from being able to go to sleep?

“What other Jake would there be?” I asked but the sudden thought that she might have been interested in a Na’vi entered my mind, but there could have been no way, unless I had been blinded and she was excellent at keeping things hidden.

But many thoughts entered my mind when it came to her stealth like the time she had attempted to grab an arrow just to shoot it past the target and warn the other sturmbeest around that hunters were near. The time she quite literally attempted to walk near the lake when I had already told her to be cautious of her steps and she got her foot caught on one of the many roots sticking up from the ground, only to fall face first into the water, Jake immediately laughing at her antics as she pulled herself out of the situation and stated she wasn’t used to being that tall. The time she flung her body off the vines in an attempt to beat Jake in a race they set themselves, only for her body to continue falling off the tree because that vine wasn’t hanging onto anything sturdy. There was no way she could have expertly hidden a secret courtship with anyone I knew.

“Jake is too busy making goo-goo eyes at Tsu’tey to come here at the moment.”

“Whoever you have chosen is due here soon and I need to leave before they get here.” I stated already having had enough of whatever this game was. She seemed to sense my anger because her face falls into the same kind of face she uses on children when she attempts to soothe them if they’re crying.

“I choose you, Neytiri Te Tskaha Mo’at’ite.” She stated quietly, yet this was the first I had ever heard her speak my full name. She had been the one to ask what my name was when her and Jake were put under mine and Tsu’tey’s watch but when she attempted to say it, she butchered it badly, I wonder how long she had been practicing to get it right.

My arms uncross as she says that and I stand there very slowly processing what she had said. Not having much of a reaction because this felt like a dream. Here in a second I would probably wake up and this would all be over and she would be in someone else’s arms.

“If you’ll have me as well, of course.” She breaks the silence, but has grabbed a hold of her hands and started playing with them, something Jake said she does when she gets nervous. I could only look up at her with a blank expression because the great mother must have heard my prayers and decided to answer them tonight.

“You choose me?” I asked to make sure I had understood her and wasn’t something that could have easily been a mistranslation on her part, although I knew that was stupid because she spoke near perfect Na’Vi after all of our lessons, she uses the proper pronunciation and places the words in the correct order. She closes her mouth as she nods, humming with her words the way humans do when they are agreeing with a statement, something I learned from them.

“Only if you wish to be mine as well.” She had placed her hands down by her sides but her nails were digging into her thighs, she seemed too nervous to have been making a joke out of the situation, and she must have flown not too long after myself to get here that quickly, she probably wouldn’t have had time to check to see if I had truly gone to sleep and had most likely gone after me or caught me taking flight with Seze.

I could feel my face soften intensely the longer I stared down into her face and all of my emotions going on high alert, I wanted to cry from overwhelming happiness. How could someone as sweet, gentle, nurturing, and caring as her want to be with me after how I had treated her? I had purposely giving her a harsh work load when it came to learning the ways of the people and she had taken it all and worked it out bit by bit, never bothering to call me any names.

“You are certain of this?” I ask her without having let her know how I felt about it and she nods.

“You do understand the implications of this, right?” I asked and again, she nods.

“We only mate with one person for the entire life.” I stated and yet again she nods.

“You’re all I’ll ever truly need.” She responds quickly, as if the words had left her mouth without the thought running by her head beforehand, I’m surprised at how certain she was.

“I was under the impression you needed-“

“You were wrong.” She licks her lips tentatively and seems shocked at interrupting me but steps forward confidently.

“I can apologize, I can show you how I feel, but I need to know if you choose me as well.” She reaches a hand out and hesitates to place it on my shoulder, drawing it back but before I can show my disappointment she places it on my cheek, I look back at her and feel a swell in my chest knowing how well we must have taught her.

She was waiting for me to say I accepted before doing anything, the definition of a wonderful person, someone willing to accept defeat. Her face coming close to mine but stopping, her breath hitches slightly as my hand is placed on the arm she has on my cheek, waiting to see if I was planning on pulling her hand from my face, but I don’t, her eyes had closed as she exhales.

“How can you possibly show how you feel without words?” I teased and watch as her own ears flicker, her tail dancing behind her in frustration, a smile etches on my face in triumph at teasing her.

“Tiri, please.” She begs as her fingers stiffen on my cheek, her other hand clenching into a fist to stop herself from doing anything she might regret and I feel as if she’d had her fill of torture, placing my other hand on her cheek and returning the gesture, she opens her eyes to look at me in awe.

“I already have.”

The smallest of exhales left her mouth before she looked at my lips and brought her head forward, sealing our lips in a kiss, her other hand placing itself on my waist to bring me in closer. She surprises me by prodding her tongue on my lower lip but I open my mouth up either way and allow her to explore what will belong to her in a few short seconds.

I guided our bodies down to the mossy undergrowth and had us both sitting on our knee’s as our kissing had grown heavy. Her hand had abandoned it’s post on my cheek and trailed down toward my waist pulling me closer to her but I had taken this time to pull away from our kiss to look in her eyes, instinctively grabbing my braid, pulling it forward.

She eyes my actions as she pants heavily but leans back to grab her own kuru and watches as I bring mine close and she repeats the action, letting our tendrils dance around each other and finally grasp on and never letting go. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding as I can feel the depth of her thoughts, emotions, her past, the things she had experienced all playing out before me. But the one feeling I could pick up over everything else was an intense feeling of love and adoration for me, I could see the way her thoughts played memories of how she had seen me when I was teaching her the ways of our people, and she has felt this way for a while.

She had let out a whine upon our tendrils hugging tightly and I knew she could feel my overpowering emotions, her panting had grown heavier once we’d made tsahyelu and I could feel a surge of heat running between my legs. I place my hand on her cheek and coo at how she was reacting like she was receiving pleasure beyond compare, her hooded eyes meeting mine, her pupils blown wide, it made me feel good knowing this is how we made one another feel with our bond alone.

“I still need to make it up to you.” She says and I tilt my head to the side slightly, as if asking her what she meant.

“I made you think I liked him, I should have just told you how I felt from the beginning.” She stated while gently pushing against my breast bone, her actions indicating she wanted me to lay on the floor. Another hot surge of energy had shot through my core and I moaned freely, getting comfortable but sitting up on my elbows.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I had no idea what she was planning.

“You ever been ate out before?” She asks but the english term falls off of her lips and I have to admit I’ve never heard of those words together during a situation as intimate as this one so I shake my head and she smirks as she lays herself on her belly in front of me.

“Let me be the first- and only- to show you how I can apologize without words.” She stated as her hand slid down toward the knot keeping my loin cloth together without my knowing, she managed to slide the front part off before laying down once more, spreading my legs.

“Lay down baby,” the English term of endearment has my heart fluttering but I was still confused as to where this was going, I listen to her and lie on my back, feeling her excitement through our bond and her breath between my legs, I lift my head to stop her from continuing down that route but felt her tongue prod out and tease the edge of my lip.

My breath hitching at the foreign feeling but not completely hating it. The wet muscle glazing over the outside of my lips making me itch for more, I felt she had been teasing on purpose, her tongue lightly swishing around and over the other lip, at the point she finished making her way around, she flattens her tongue and repeats the action.

No words are shared between us as she continues and I can feel my impatience settling in as my hips attempt to move to get her to give me more. I let out a low moan as her tongue glides toward my slit, finally dipping it past the lips gently.

_________

I’d taken my time teasing around the lips of her pussy until her hips were moving to get me to touch her needy clit. I figured she wasn’t in the mood to be teased all night and placed my tongue on her slit, applying a small amount of pressure and gathering the smallest bead of her slick on my tongue, groaning at the taste, sliding my tongue higher and finding her hardened nub standing at attention and quivering once my tongue touches it.

I could feel the flutters of the effect my tongue was making on her through our bond, surprised at how deeply I could feel these things, unaware that they would feel as though I were doing them on myself. She gasps, letting out the softest moan and stopping herself, her ears flickering in embarrassment but it makes me smile. I gently pat the side of her thighs that meets her ass to tell her to keep it up, I didn’t need to embarrass her further by talking about it, she was a shy thing.

I look up past her mound and see her eyes staring back at mine, she had been biting her lip and her hands had been underneath her own thighs in an attempt to keep herself spread for me. I hadn’t realized my own slick had started pooling in my loin cloth to the point where it was dribbling down my thighs and I felt my hips have a mind of their own as they moved against the ground and the soft moss below me.

I smile up at her and dip my tongue back low to gather her slick and groan at the taste enveloping my tastebuds, placing my hands to gently push her thighs further apart, digging my face further in and trailing my tongue entirely against her slit and applying my slick covered tongue on her clit.

“Oh great mother,” She squeezes the words past her lips before it sticks between her teeth, her fangs poking out and her grip on her own thighs tightens, her nails digging into the beautiful dark blue skin I’d grown to love. I sit on my knees and catch her eyes staring into mine as I use my hand to unstick her lips from her teeth, leaning over to kiss her, keeping true to my word and not saying anything as I settled back down between her legs.

“Okay,” She nods in understanding, the same feeling coming through our bond, I take the one hand from her thigh and let her hand rest on my head and place my mouth back over her pussy, getting lost in the taste and enjoying myself more than I should, drawing small figure eights on her clit and hearing her moans as her nails dig into my scalp, my own moans of pleasure from the slight sting on my head coursing through me unexpectedly and feeling Neytiri buck her hips harshly against my tongue.

Her thighs were starting to close harshly around my head as she continues bucking her helps relentlessly against my mouth. I allowed her to squeeze my head with her strong, lean, beautiful thighs, hooking my hands around them and holding onto them for dear life. I apply suction on her sensitive bud and hear a mixture of Na’vi curses, thanking Eywa for different reasons, and threatening my life if I dared to stop at that moment. I look back up and see her eyes are closed tightly, feeling over joyed that I had managed to bring her to this point with my tongue alone.

My own hips had started grinding faster onto the ground beneath me as I picked up my pace with my tongue and pulling her hips closer to my face, willing her orgasm to crash over me. Her bucking hips had already made it hard to contain the slick that had spread over my face but I didn’t mind one bit. My name started falling off her lips like chants of prayer and it has replaced any other words she was able to form, her eyes squeezing shut as she focuses on her erratic hip movements against my face. My own pleasure sneaking up on me as I humped the ground pathetically.

The feeling of our orgasms taking over the bond and the blinding white light behind our eyelids overtaking every sensation we had. I continued giving harsh licks as she came down from her high, focusing more on her and her pleasure than the movement of my hips, as I too clamped around nothing. Making sure to give her softer licks as her orgasm started easing away and she came to her senses, her eyes fluttering open gingerly, blinking tiredly as she looks over to find my eyes.

“I would be a fool to not forgive you after that.”

#avatar smut #avatar #afab reader #avatar reader #neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #neytiri getting her coochie cat ate by a girl #hehehe #lunaskinktober2023

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qodlysinz · 2 months

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This is Your Mother

Alastor & his Mother - Hazbin Hotel

CW: mentions of death, Alastor goes a bit crazy, Alastor’s demon form, mania

Tags: angst, Alastor misses his mom, I would say give Alastor a hug but he’d pull a Pennywise and bite your head off 😒😒

A/N: I SUCK AT ANGST BUT I LIKE TO THINK I GOT BETTER 🥳 anyway this was inspired by a TikTok I saw a while back with the audio “O Superman” and it was of Alastor’s dead hand after he was shot (I THINK) and his mother worrying where he was. I think it was taken down, but if it wasn’t PLEASEEEEEE give me the person who made it I’ve been thinking about it all day. Or maybe I imagined it like an idiot idk

Alastor never dreamed. He hasn’t his entire life—in both the living and the dead. He likes to think it’s because he was never a dreamer, he was always a realist.

The only person who Alastor felt seen by was his mother.

She was a kind soul, someone worthy of Heaven and all the riches in the world with cooking skills to die for. If Alastor could redo one thing in his entire life, it’d be telling his mother what he was doing.

How the blood on his collar one night he came from dinner was a from stabbing someone repeatedly rather than the lie he told of a nick he give himself while shaving. How he was actually killing people in the middle of the night and he couldn’t go with her to a party, claiming he was at work.

She’d understand, wouldn’t she?

The kindhearted woman would do anything for her son, but did that include forgiving his sins?

Was that wishful thinking on his end? Hoping she’d be so happy he wasn’t actually hurting himself like she thought he was when she saw the blood stains on his usually pristine white button-up shirts.

Alastor actually dreamed this night. For the first time in one hundred years. He never slept, so suddenly imagining himself in the middle of the forest where he lost his life to an idiotic Hunter mistaking him for some deer, somehow.

His breathing was becoming faster—what was this? Was this heinous feeling… fear? It couldn’t be! Absolutely not! Alastor didn’t feel fear, that was fact.

His heart almost stopped at the familiar voice ringing in the air, the sweet, gentle voice he heard everyday as a child.

“Alastor? Al, sweetie? Where are you?”

Alastor froze, looking around rapidly in search of seeing her face at least one more time. Just once, that’s all he wanted.

“Mother?” He echoed into the forest, slowly moving from his station. Leaves crunched under his heel, making him look down at the ground to see that he was wearing the same shoes he wore the day he died—he’d never forget such a day.

He looked behind him, seeing his dead body on the ground. What a strange out-of-body experience. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Alastor scowled, rolling his eyes as he continued on his trek until he heard another sentence from his mother.

“This is your mother. Are you there? Are you coming home?”

Alastor almost threw up, clutching onto a tree and digging his nails into the bark as he covered his mouth. “Where are you?!” He desperately called out, carding a hand through his hair in frustration. Where on Earth was this voice coming from, and why were they using his mother against him?!

He paused, staring off into the distance as he saw his childhood home—his mother sobbed on the ground as police officers consoled her.

“Ma’am, we have means to believe your son was behind those—“ before the man could continue on with his sentence, Alastor’s mother stared at him. “My son would never do such a thing! He was just killed, and you’re blaming him?!” She cried out, the pain and horror in her face almost made Alastor choke out a sob. “Miss, he was holding a bloodied knife and was found by a dumpsite.” The other officer informed her.

His mother clutched her arms, her wails filling the room. “Alastor is innocent! Innocent, I tell you!” She wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief, but to no avail as the tears continued to spill.

Alastor had failed his mother. The woman who sacrificed so much to make sure he got through life was in pain because of what he did. She was probably shunned after news got out, everyone ignored her until her own inevitable death.

He let out a shaky breath, lips trembling as the next words left his throat. “I’m so sorry, mother…” his voice came out in a whisper, barely audible.

His mother’s head slowly craned in his direction. “Al…?” She murmured, stumbling to her feet. Alastor almost jumped out of his skin, staring at her. “Tell me, you didn’t do those things! Please, tell me they’re lying!” She grabbed his suit tightly, tears still streaming down his face.

He hesitated. He couldn’t lie to his mother’s face, even if it was a figment of his imagination.

“I did it.” He quietly said.

He didn’t expect his mother’s face to contort into what it did. Eyes blown wide, jaw dropped, and face evidently showing pure, absolute horror.

Alastor’s heart tensed up; it was painful seeing her look at him like that, especially when she normally spoke so sweetly to him, she adored her son with her entire being. Did he just ruin it by admitting his faults?! Could he go back?!

His breathing picked up, terror widening his eyes. “M-mother!” He tried to reach out to her, only for the woman to give him a hateful glare.

“You failed me, Alastor.”

Alastor backed up, the words ringing in his head millions of times. “Failed… you? I… mother..” he cried out. His eyes burned with tears. Was he even capable of shedding tears? Should he be allowed to?! His own mother clearly saw him as a monster, and monsters can’t feel normal emotions.

Was that all Alastor was?

Just a monster?

A monster who hurt his mother?

Alastor desperately grabbed his mother’s arms. “Y-you can’t say that! Mother, it’s me! Your Al, you love me… don’t you? Please do… I’m still the same person!” He insisted, his breathing became more manic as he felt himself grow in size, his human hands behind replaced by his demonic form. His mother froze, staring at him.

“You’re not my son.” She said chillingly. Alastor was quiet, swallowing thickly. “Mother…”

Alastor’s eyes shot open, heavily breathing as he let out a broken cry, hands finding themselves in his hair. “No… mother… she would… never… no..” his teeth bit into his lower lip, drawing blood as tears began to pool in his eyes. “Never.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor’s mom #alastor angst #this probably sucks #i need to practice more #ive never written Alastor before #based on a song

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arminsgffr · 1 month

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Smoking by the window

Armin x reader

Disclaimer: reader smokes, actually don’t know if vaping is considered smoking, but you get what I mean. modern au, idk

I wanted to portrait how Armin doesn’t want people to kind of idealize him as this pure boy, who is not able to even kill a mosquito. Who doesn’t ever do bad things on purpose. And how he wants to be abke to be the protector and not the protected.

This is my first post. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there’s any misspelling. Hope you enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The universe is so big. We’re basically nothing. Little stupid things. Minuscule. It’s kind of a triggering thought, to know you don’t really matter, and that it doesn’t really matter what you do in this world. But then, you can use it as an excuse to do whatever you want, right?

Smoking by the window is a thing now. A thing that I do when I’m overwhelmed, or numb, or bored, or… existing. Even now, that Armin is asleep beside me, I couldn’t help the desire of taking out my vape and use it. It’s two in the morning, the perfect hour. That feeling of nothingness emerged so suddenly, I’m starting to like it at this point. The vapor coming out of my lips is pretty. I look down my side, Armin’s prettier. He looks so peaceful, relaxed. I can’t believe he ended up with someone like me. Someone with a lost future, when he has such a bright one. I inhale, again and again, till getting a little dizzy. I actually have grown really fond of the feeling.

— Honey…? — I hear Armin say, sleepy. He’s trying to open his eyes. — What time is it? —

He sited on the bed, with his beautiful eyes not fully open, tired back, looking at me with a confused face, trying to figure out what was happening. He looked really cute.

— Oh, shit, sorry. Did I wake you up? — I said in a low voice.

— Not exactly… — He made a pause. — What are you doing? —

—Just vaping a little bit, I was about to go back to sleep, anyway. —

He giggled, more awake. — We both know that’s not true. — he said, with that expression he made when he was saying something ‘obvious’. I just smiled at him. — Can I try? —

— What? — I said a little shoked.

He let out a little, soft laugh. — Can I try? — He repeat it, slowly, pointing at the vape in my hands.

— Are you sure? I don’t really want you to, I got to be honest. What if you like it? — I said with a worried tone.

— What if I like it? — He thought there was really nothing totally wrong. Well, maybe he did, I can’t speak for him.

— I don’t want you to like it. —

He didn’t reply, he just left silence. I could tell he was thinking. I get why he would want to try, but no. He can’t go down that path.

— You treat me like I’m a fragile… pure thing. I’m not. I’m a person. — The golden like hair boy said.

— Yeah, and as a person, I don’t want to fuck up yourself. You know I’m not the best influence. —

— Fine. But really, don’t treat me like I don’t do anything wrong, and like you’re gonna spoil me. —

— But, what if I do? — I really resented having such a screwed life.

— Honey…— He got closer to me, taking me in he’s arms. — You won’t, I promise. I love you. —

— I love you more. — I said, looking at him.

We just stayed like that a little longer. I was falling asleep, when he realized and laid my head down, still hugging me. He took the vape from my hands and put it in the nightstand. He was so warm and comfortable to hug. He moved me closer to him, while resting his head, softly, on top of mine. He was holding me like a porcelain doll, with al the caring and welcomeness of the world. Like I was he’s most precious treasure, but still a person to care about.

— You are the one who deserves to be treated like a fragile, not thing. I want to be the one that looks after you and protects you. Please let me. — He said, softly and loving. I just hugged him tighter and, indeed, let him. And for a moment. For that moment, everything stopped feeling so meaningless. Instead of knowing we were all stupid nothings, I genuinely believed that it was just Armin and me in all universe. And that I wasn’t that meaningless either. I was something in Armin’s life, apparently. So I’m gonna make sure I’m a good something for him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A really short thingy, but I guess is not that bad for being the first one shot. Anyway, hope you liked it :)

#aot #aot fluff #armin arlert #armin aot #armin x reader #fanfic #fandom #armin fluff #armin x reader fluff #snk #snk armin #snk fluff #one shot #aot oneshots #armin x you #armin imagine #armin x y/n

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tumbleweedtech · 1 month

Note

okay happy to give a prompt because I need alerudy like I need air they are so underwritten. I’m too Latino and too gay to not need them. Beware because it’s fluffy.

Dance lessons! I headcanon Alejandro as coming from a big family where Rudy might have only had one or no siblings, and you might think that means Ale had more opportunity to dance, that would be wrong. Alejandro got lost in the mix of family and by the time he’s like 15 he 1) can’t dance a basic cumbia because everyone figured he’d just pick it up and 2) is old enough that being bad at dancing is embarrassing rather than endearing. Rudy, by contrast, has been his single mom’s dance partner for years, right up until she got re-married (and he danced his ass off at the wedding too).

So Ale sucks it up and asks Rudy to teach him how to dance because it’s quinceañera season and he can’t go another year claiming he twisted his ankle. So the lessons begin. In secret, late at night on top of a roof near the bar district, where they can hear the music from below. Where no one can see two boys dancing. Rudy has him start by following, then by leading, and then they switch off. Dealer’s choice whether Rudy is dying inside because he’s wanted to dance with Ale for years, or if this is a Gay Awakening, but either way. They’re feeling Something.

I have no idea where this ends which is why I’m giving up custody to you!

how could you possibly know i am currently writing a cumbia fic with alerudy

how. *How*, Nonny? Alright. *cracks knuckles* Let's have at'er. (note: I'm going with Alejandro's mom is Rudy's madrino, and vice versa. Because idk about you, but my nina was treated like my second mother, no questions or argument allowed.) No CWs, just fluff of teenage boys with crushes dancing.

"Alejandro."

"Rodolfo."

Rudy rolls his eyes at the way Alejo parrots back, defensive. "Si se puede, Alejo."

Alejandro's refusing to look at him, frowning deeply, and it's heartbreaking how beautiful he is even now, gripping his own elbows, hair hanging in his eyes.

It was Alejo's tío who originally showed the boys this spot. The bright lights of the mercado cast its long flat roof into shadow; the strangely blinking red lights on its sign left it feeling private and alone. It hadn't been what Rudy had been looking for at the time. He'd heard there would be a meteor shower, and his mama was working that night. He knew Alejandro would go with him, he just had to find a place dark enough to see the stars.

They never did see the stars falling, but Alejandro held his hand as they watched the grey clouds cover a red-tinted sky and that was enough.

Tonight? The sky was clear and they could hear the distant but cheerful beat of the bar in the alley below. Rudy hoped it'd be loud enough to dance to.

Alejandro never liked failing, grouchy and embarrassed even as Rudy tried to model the steps.

"Alejandro, ven. Por favor. ¿Bailar conmigo?"

Rudy held a hand out, waiting. It was rare that Alejandro would deny him anything he wanted, a fact his mother had pointed out to him with a sly smile. He'd asked her once why she never went out dancing. She had cupped his cheeks and squeezed. "Mijo, there is nothing better than dancing with someone you love with your entire heart. Dancing in a club? You can go with your friends and have fun. Take Alejito, he needs the fun. But I am happy, here, dancing with you."

He was tall enough now that it was easier for him to lead when dancing with her, but she'd taught him both skills. “You never know who you will want to dance with”, she'd insisted.

He was pretty sure she knew who he wanted to dance with.

And that person didn't want to dance with him.

Rudy sighed. "If you want, Tía Lucía is probably still awake. I can—"

With an angry snarl, Alejandro stomped over, holding his arms out stiffly. He still refused to look directly at Rudy now that they were standing so close together under the aging neon sign. Rudy couldn't help but feel a whisper of hope that the tint of red across Alejandro's face was the blush his mama swore was there when he wasn't looking.

"I'm not asking Tía Lucía to teach me to dance for her own daughter's quinceañera. She'll know why I didn't dance at Letty's."

"Okay. You sure you're not going to punch me? It's easier to learn the steps at first if you follow."

Alejandro's shoulders dropped, the frustration leaching out of him with a heavy sigh. He looked around again, taking in the soft echo of the music from below, the flickering light, and gestured for Rudy to come closer. "Not going to punch you. Not your fault, I—"

Whatever he was going to say was startled out of him as Rudy took his hand to pull him close, the other hand on his waist. "Relax."

Rudy shifted him gently, and Alejandro panicked, tightly gripping his shoulder, glancing down at their feet.

"Don't look. Just trust me, okay? Count with me."

Rudy counted a quiet beat, letting Alejandro slowly relax into the rhythm. He was good at it, once he relaxed. Rudy encouraged him around, into a small circle, before the song changed again, a bouncy, cheerful song that Rudy recognized from his mother's small, crackly radio.

"You try leading now." Rudy shifted their joined hands, rubbing his sweaty palm on his thigh before reaching up to clasp Alejandro's shoulder. He desperately wanted to wrap both arms around his neck and press close, but he was fairly sure he couldn't get away with claiming it was part of teaching him to dance.

Alejandro approached it like he did everything else new to him. Brow furrowed, concentrating. Rudy doesn't know exactly when Alejandro managed to get taller than him, but it took his breath away to look up, the bright glow reflecting in Alejandro's dark eyes that met his, studying him so intently.

He tested, his fingers gently pressing, guiding Rudy. His confidence grew as the song went on, and Rudy surrendered to the warmth of Alejandro's arm around him, hand gentle on his back. "Not so hard, is it?"

Alejandro's wry smile as he ducked his head was answer enough. It wasn't a difficult dance, at least not the basics. Alejandro lifted a shoulder at Rudy's questioning eyebrow. The movement shifted Rudy’s hand, and it was excuse enough. He took the moment to curl his hand around Alejandro's neck, feeling the knobs of his spine and tangling his fingers in his long, dark curls.

"Plenty to learn still, besides just the basic steps. Unless this is enough for you?"

Alejandro's voice cracked slightly, eyes wide as he pulled Rudy closer, both of them moving slower as the song faded out. "Might need more practice. I've seen you dance with Nina Antonia, there's spinning involved."

"Then come over tomorrow, after school. You know my mom won't make fun, and we've got the music. She's making pozole anyway, you know you want to."

"Fine," Alejandro huffed, pretending it was a hardship like they weren't always at each other's homes for dinner anyway. Tomorrow was a rare day off for Rudy’s mom, but he knew she wouldn't mind. "One more song first?"

Rudy shifted close again as Alejandro's too-warm hand gripped his ribs and they moved with the rhythm of the drums. Rudy had always enjoyed dancing with his mama, but he thought that maybe she had a point. Dancing with her was very, very different than dancing with Alejandro, especially with the way his eyes glittered in the dark.

#alerudy #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #alejandro x rudy #they're just babies here though #consider this backstory to my other cumbia fic if you've gotten snippies of that.#teenage boys dancing is just so cute #both of them crushin on each other #well shit it's been awhile since i just dropped a one shot like that #don't hate me if it's out of character i'm still babey in this fandom pls oh god #tryin real hard tho

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foli-vora · 1 year

Note

Foil my love, I’m here with my request. First of all- congratulations for your milestone ♥️ I’m happy for you 😘

I picked 3 things from prompt list:

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

sweet, tooth rotting fluff- maybe little spicy in the end? Idk it’s on you

With Pero Tovar ♥️

I would be very thankful if you write my request but it’s okey if you do not want to ♥️ no pressure

my sweet! thank you so much for your request, and for your constant love and support - it means the world to me! i hope you enjoy x

greedy

pero tovar x f!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: jealousy, tovar's love of food, softness, spicy kisses in public

[gif by moi]

“He’s not even listening, William.”

It’s undeniable that you have an attitude, even William responds to the snap in your tone with a raise of his brow. It’s not directed at him, of course. No, not him… the other, however…

Tovar remains oblivious to your glare, only bringing his attention back to the two of you when William delivers a light kick to his ankle beneath the table. He scowls at William, before moving his dark gaze to you after his friend nods your way.

“Oh, how wonderful of you to join us,” you bite out. “She’ll still be there once we’re finished — there’s no need to gawk.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Tovar growls, brows pulling together above his narrowing eyes. “Ever since we sat down, you’ve been all… huffy.”

“Huffy? Perhaps because while William and I are trying to discuss our next route, you’re too busy staring at the barmaid to even pay attention!”

“Why does it matter that my attention is elsewhere? I don’t need to discuss routes. I go where you go, I don’t need to listen. I trust William’s judgement.”

“Because it just matters, alright?”

Gods, he’s infuriating.

“Wait a moment,” he chuckles quietly after a moment of observing you, an almost mischievous expression curling his features. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” You snort into your ale, rolling your eyes. “Of course not. Don’t be so absurd, Tovar. Are you drunk, or just an idiot?”

William shifts, no doubt recalling the evening you indulged too much in the sweet wine a merchant had traded you which resulted in you spilling your deepest darkest secret to him over the dying campfire whilst Tovar laid snoring a little ways away.

He hadn’t been surprised in the least at your drunken admittance of love – apparently he could feel the bond you and his friend shared despite you both acting as if you despised each other. William had been trying his best to convince you to admit your feelings, even going as far to reassure you that Tovar felt as you did.

A ridiculous idea, considering Tovar’s eyes had previously followed the pretty barmaid striding around with a beautiful smile curved along her lips. William had clearly been wrong with that assumption, and now you felt like a fool for even slightly believing Tovar viewed you as anything more than a nuisance.

He would never look at you the way he did her, or any of the pretty things he bedded along your travels. You’d lost count of the women along the way, always struck with that god awful sick feeling in your stomach whenever he disappeared, no doubt to their arms.

No, you absolutely weren’t jealous.

Tovar glares at you over his plate of bread and meat but remains quiet after that, plunging the table into an uncomfortable silence. Your fingers drum against your mug while you scowl down at the table, ignoring the look William gives you over his own ale.

“Well,” he sighs after a moment, standing and stretching with a deep frown he aims at both you and Tovar, “forgive me, but I tire of the both of you and your foolishness. See you tomorrow.”

Tovar grunts, his eyes flickering over the other patrons bustling loudly about the inn and shovelling more food into his already full mouth.

“Goodnight William,” you mutter, giving him a small apologetic smile, “sleep well.”

It’s not exactly awkward once William takes his leave – you’d been in Tovar’s presence countless times before and managed quite well, but it’s not the most comfortable… most likely conjured from your snippy attitude you’ve had since sitting down.

You wouldn’t have such an attitude if he stopped looking at her like that –

It’s absolutely not jealousy.

Perhaps it is a little.

A lot.

You heave a small sigh, following the various scratches and dents in the table as your mind races. Maybe it would be better for you to just spit out your feelings and be done with it. Would it give your mind the much needed peace you’ve craved since meeting him?

Would it be a disaster? Would he laugh?

You don’t think Tovar to be a particularly cruel person – he was ruthless in a fight and quick when it came to returning snide comments and verbal attacks, but surely he wouldn’t be mean about your feelings. Surely he’d let you down easy, softly.

Only one way to find out, you suppose.

“Perhaps I am,” you speak suddenly, pressing the mug to your lips and swallowing down the last of your drink in an effort to cling to whatever courage you could find.

It’s done now. Your heart thunders away in your chest, bringing the sting of sweat to your palms and watching the words catch Tovar’s attention suddenly has your flight instincts flaring. He blinks, almost in confusion.

“Perhaps you are what?”

You go to speak, but the words aren’t strong in your mouth. Why is this so difficult? The sudden uncertainty hitting your system becomes a bit too much and you fight to keep your expression as free of emotion as possible. He watches you as you make a move to stand, shoving your stool back on the stone floor and rising to your feet.

Coward.

See it through.

Speak –

Swallowing the dryness building on your tongue, you square your shoulders and meet his gaze before speaking, “Perhaps I am jealous.”

Your words clearly take him off guard, but you don’t stay to hear any retorts. Your remaining courage dries up quickly in the face of potential humiliation, and instead of facing whatever Tovar had to say about those four words, you turn and walk away, leaving him behind with your little admittance.

It was silly to even say anything. You knew he didn’t feel for you as you did him. Why did you bother? Would you have to be left behind now? You knew William and Tovar were close - brothers… if Tovar no longer felt comfortable with you, William would surely take his side.

You bypass the stairs of the inn and instead continue on until you’re free of the noise and the people, inhaling deeply as soon as the frigid air of the night stings your cheeks. Have you ruined everything? You groan loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose as you walk, thankful that the streets seemed to be mostly bare due to the temperature.

“Why?”

Spinning in surprise, you watch as Tovar strides to a stop a few paces away, his face pulled into a frown. You’re so taken off guard by his sudden appearance, you forget he even spoke.

“What?”

He huffs impatiently, his frown deepening. “Why would you be jealous?”

Oh.

Shifting in place, your gaze drops to watch how your boots scuff the dirtied stone beneath your feet. It feels impossible to speak around your heart beating in your throat.

“Because I –” you falter, tongue coming along to wet your lips, “I like you.”

“You like me?” He repeats, deadpan, features twisting further in confusion.

“It’s not just that… it’s… I –”

Here goes. Gods help me.

“I think I’m in love with you,” you breathe, holding his gaze, “and I’m terrified.”

Silence.

Your heartbeat fills your ears.

Never before have you felt so… vulnerable. You were without armour, without a weapon — your heart in your hands is all you have. It could shatter right now, right between your fingers, with the simplest of words from him. A mere curl of his nose would tear it in two…

But something about his features softens.

He’s still frowning, as he usually does, but his gaze feels lighter, warmer. You dare not get your hopes up, but your heart can’t help but respond to such a tender shine within the depths of his eyes. It aches, but in the most delightful of ways.

He takes a tentative step closer.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

“No? Do you have room for me amongst the many others?”

It’s hard to keep the spite out of your tone. Of course he wasn’t doing any of it to be cruel or to hurt your feelings, he’d had no idea of where your heart lay and, as far as you knew, he held nothing for you, but your jealousy brings a bitterness forward and you find yourself weak against the force of it.

He recoils in surprise, “‘Others’? What others?”

“Oh please. Don’t speak to me as if I’m an idiot, Tovar. You know the women I speak of – the barmaids and the baker's wives and the —”

“You think I bed them?”

It’s his obvious amusement that has you hesitating to continue.

“Do – do you not?”

A grin pulls at the corner of his lips and he takes another step closer, his head giving a small shake.

“No, hermosa. I do not.”

“But… but what about you making eyes at the pretty barmaid in there?”

He falters, slightly sheepish. “I wasn’t making eyes at her.”

You pause, thinking back on the beautiful blonde and the way Tovar’s eyes had followed where her breasts practically spilled over the edge of her corset. Most of the men had been weak to fight that spell, even you, but if he wasn’t making eyes at her, what else was there?

The only thing close to her chest had been the basket of fresh bread rolls she had held close to her, still warm from the oven. Had he been staring at the bread all along? Had he been after food the entire time? Your frown deepens the longer you think back on his apparent ‘conquests’.

“And the others…”

He gives a small shrug, slightly abashed.

“My god, Tovar. Do you ever stop thinking about food?”

“Si,” he murmurs, dark eyes finding yours from beneath his lashes, “when I look at you.”

Was that an admittance? It sure sounded like one. Does he truly have feelings for you? Had William been right all along? Surely you’re dreaming. Surely this is merely a falsehood crafted by your mind to soothe the sting of rejection, to comfort you during your heartbreak.

This isn’t real, it’s just a dream… but it can’t be.

You feel the stone beneath your feet; you feel the icy cold breeze seep beneath your collar; you feel the way your blunt nails dig into the roughened skin of your palm. He’s here, truly here, shoulders curled in and frame bordering the line of defensive.

A smile pulls at your lips and you relish in the heat that washes along under your skin, spreading across your chest and rising to fill your cheeks. The cold couldn’t pierce this heat.

“That was awful.”

He grins, a low, throaty chuckle falling from his throat. “My apologies, mi amor, I may be out of practice. There are no others… only you. It was always only you, even in the beginning. It’s only you now. It is only you I wish to bed.”

The warmth filling your chest and embracing your heart suddenly plunges to the pit of your stomach and he watches the series of emotions flutter across your features with a roguish grin, stepping the last few paces until his body brushes yours. His hands lifts, his roughened fingertips brushing along the skin of your jaw before brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“Only you,” he repeats.

“You’ve quite the soft heart, Tovar,” you murmur teasingly, weakening into his touch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he returns gruffly, breathing the words against your lips before stealing all thoughts and reason with the insistent press of his mouth against yours.

He’s not sweet about it… he’s rabid. His large hand curls around the back of your neck and anchors you to him, calloused palm rough and hot against your skin, his lips relentless in their pursuit of any and all of the little noises falling from your throat. His tongue sweeps forward, brushing along your lower lip and coaxing you to grant him entry.

You’ve never been kissed like this before. This is so much more than the quick press of lips you had once given a stable boy when you were younger, much more passionate than the other men you had softened to before meeting Tovar.

He swallows you down, breathing you in and chasing the taste of your tongue with his own groan, low and feral and curdling deeply in the pit of your stomach. You feel like flames are taking you, dancing over your skin and seeping into your very bones. An ache grows in your core the longer he drinks from you, the need to have him much, much closer than public view would allow increasing with every slick roll of his tongue.

“Perhaps,” you breathe into his mouth, your hands grasping at his tunic, “we should move elsewhere before we gather a crowd.”

He makes a rough noise in his throat, breaking away from your mouth and slowly running his tongue along his bottom lip, gathering the shine of saliva sitting there. You watch him eye your surroundings through a haze, your heart racing in your chest. He’d be the end of you, you’re sure of it.

“Come, mi amor. I have much to show you,” his roguish grin returns, “if you’ll have me.”

You inhale sharply, unable to resist diving in for another kiss.

“Show me,” you whisper into his mouth, “show me everything.”

everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide

pero tovar: @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape, @serini-ty, @jauntyhornsolo, @bbyanarchist, @quicksilvermad, @nectav, @littleone65, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @shadowolf993,

#foli's 3k #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar #pedro pascal x reader

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