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little-diable · 2 months

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Don't Break my Heart, Cowboy - Jasper Hale (smut)

Since y'all loved my other Cowboy!Jasper fic so much, I wanted to share another one with you. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works at a ranch with a few other cowboys, but with one she instantly clicked, finding herself drawn to him and his mysterious aura.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, public piv, somewhat outdoor piv, dom!Jasper, rough Jasper, degrading

Pairing: Cowboy!Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2.2k words)

With her eyes closed and her face turned towards the blue sky, (y/n) allowed her horse to guide her, to follow the others as she relaxed for just a moment. They had been riding for the past hours, needing to make it to their summer camp before the sun went down, needing to set up their tents before darkness could engulf them. But even though they were working on a tight schedule, the group didn’t give in to the need to hurry, enjoying the rough nature they made it through.

“You alright, darlin’?” Jasper’s words forced her eyes open, having to blink a few times to adjust to the sun’s brightness. For a moment, her eyes wandered over his handsome features, the pale skin, the golden eyes, and those blonde roots she so desperately wanted to tug on. She always had it bad for Jasper, the handsome cowboy who had instantly taken a liking to her, treating her like one of them from day one.

“I am, just felt the need to soak this all up before having to work again tomorrow.” Their shared chuckles caught up with the other four cowboys who were riding ahead of them, momentarily turning back towards the two.

“We don’t have any time for flirting, you two lovebirds.” She rolled her eyes at them, sat up straighter and reached for her reins. With a challenging look shot at Jasper, she pressed her heel into her horse’s side. (Y/n) raced past the others, smirking as they called for her, trying to catch up with the laughing woman.

The wind stroked her limbs, cosying her along as they raced through meadows, along the trail that’d take them to the spot where they were supposed to set up camp. It was an area she had never been to before, an area so calm, (y/n) feared she never would want to leave again. This felt like heaven on earth, a piece of the Garden of Eden, a piece so untouched she didn’t even want to trod through the land stretching ahead.

“Last to arrive at camp has to do the dishes!” With another laugh bubbling out of her, she watched Emmet race past her, not looking back once. And with her eyes set ahead, (y/n) got to racing once again, set on making it to camp first.

……

“Isn’t it astonishing that he tried to race us but still arrived last?” Jasper murmured his words, eyes set on his brother as (y/n) chuckled into her cup. They had arrived a while ago and had instantly set up the camp, helping one another with the tents they’d have to share, starting the fire, and cooking dinner. It felt like a family adventure, spending time with the people you adore, people you want to spend most of your time with.

“I’m pretty sure his ego got quite the blow from it.” Her eyes met his, no longer golden though a darker shade. By now (y/n) was all too used to watching his eye colour change, and yet she was still fascinated by the richness of his pupils, no matter the light. They told stories so old, (y/n) feared she’d uncover secrets she could never forget again.

It was a dangerous line she was walking, falling for a cowboy who would always love his horse and his work more than any woman to warm his bed. But she had never been one for backing away from a challenge.

“Where did you learn to ride like that?” The interest swimming in his pupils left her heart skipping beats, not used to being around men who were as interested in her. (Y/n) had to avert her gaze, focusing on the fire that warmed their limbs as the evening grew colder by the minute.

“We had horses back home, it was pretty much the only thing I enjoyed doing.” A melancholic sensation flushed through her as (y/n) thought of her home, of the horses she had grown up with. It was a bittersweet feeling, torn between being homesick and enjoying the free feeling she had never gotten to experience like at this very ranch.

“I think you can certainly teach us another thing or two with that speed you got, darlin’.” He bumped his shoulder with hers, drawing a soft chuckle from (y/n). Before she could even try to reply, voice shaking from the unfamiliar sensation his closeness still pushed through her, the others gained her attention.

“Before we get to drinking, who will share a tent with who?” Out of the corner of her eye, (y/n) watched Jasper study her, seemingly not paying attention to the cowboy who had spoken up. It seemed as if he was debating something, letting a few seconds pass, before he slowly moved closer to (y/n). A giddy feeling pushed through her veins, forcing her teeth into her lower lip to stop herself from making any sounds.

She didn’t focus on the bickering of the others as her gaze finally met Jasper’s, unable to bite down her smile at the way he was looking at her. Something was swimming in his pupils, something she couldn’t pinpoint, and yet she was awfully excited, wondering how the upcoming weeks would play out.

“(Y/n) and I will share.” Jasper had spoken up without ripping his gaze from her features. His words left her heart freezing, wondering where he was going with this.

“Well, we already knew that, didn’t we? We wouldn’t dare steal your girl, brother.” (Y/n) didn’t find any strength to roll her eyes at Emmet, purely focused on being called “his girl”. It had been a long time since she had last found herself drawn to a man, but Jasper was everything her heart was calling out for, hoping that he wasn’t the one to break her heart.

Jasper’s tongue ran along his lips, forcing her gaze towards his mouth for just a second – a second he clearly picked up on. Without knowing what her body was doing, she suddenly rose to her feet, murmuring a small “Excuse me” before leaving Jasper behind. (Y/n) was desperate for a second to breathe, overwhelmed by Jasper’s forwardness and the teasing of the others.

She walked through the meadow towards the horses, smiling as she came to a halt near them. Deep exhales left her stretched lungs, letting her eyes flutter close for a moment or two. She tried to focus on her surroundings, on the sounds echoing through the evening, the feeling of the warm breeze teasing her, the scents hanging in the air. But all she could truly focus on, was the way her body warned her that somebody was close; no, not just somebody – Jasper.

“Everything alright?” She felt him next to her, allowing her to stand still for a little longer before opening her eyes. (Y/n) stared up at him with a soft smile, wondering what he was about to say, if he was about to say something at all. But all Jasper did was turn towards her, hand cupping her cheek as he waited for her to pull away.

“Jasper,” (y/n) murmured his name, drawing a hum from him. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, his lips found hers without another warning. Jasper’s cold hands drew her closer, placed on her neck and waist, holding her against his strong chest as their lips moved in sync. The small moan leaving (y/n) seemed to encourage him only further, allowing his tongue to move along her lower lip.

The kiss grew heated, fiery as the flames that had danced near them only a few minutes ago, demanding as the beat of their hearts that needed and wanted even more. (Y/n) finally got the chance to tug on his blonde roots, a movement that left Jasper groaning. Heat pooled between her thighs at the sounds he was making, silently praying that the night wouldn’t end with just a kiss.

“You’ll be the death of me, darlin’,” Jasper whispered against her swollen lips, staring down at her with love swimming in his pupils.

“Not before you make me yours.”

……

“Gotta be quiet, can you do that for me?” His raspy words rang in her ears. (Y/n) found herself kneeling, hands fisting the fabric of their big sleeping bag. He had made quick work of their clothes the second he had pushed her into their tent, needing to give into their longings for one another.

“Yes, I promise.” Desperation dripped from her words, begging Jasper to finally give in. He was positioned behind her, not giving her a chance to pick up on the wide smirk glued to his lips. His cold fingers found her core, leaving her to jerk in surprise at the new sensation, struggling to stop herself from speaking up.

Jasper didn’t take his time with her, he didn’t move slow, no, he was focused on making her tremble, on preparing her for his cock. Her bundle of nerves pulsed against his fingers, begging him for more, to push her closer and closer to the edge.

“I can’t wait to sink my cock into your perfect pussy, I bet you will feel so tight around me.” A whimper managed to leave (y/n) at his words, hoping that he’d finally fuck her like she had hoped he would for weeks on end. She heard him spit into his palm, heard him shuffle around as he pulled his hand from her. “And you’ll take me like the good slut you are, won’t you?”

She got no chance to reply to his words, eyes forced shut and lips pressed together at the feeling of his cock pushing into her. Her walls fluttered around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth as Jasper held still, giving her a handful of seconds. But the moment he pulled back, only to push back in with more force, he turned into a ruthless form of himself, set on fucking her till she was close to passing out.

(Y/n) knew that she’d wake with bruises littering her body, she knew that she’d struggle with walking for a while, and yet she couldn’t care about anything but the feeling of Jasper fucking her, making her feel like she had never felt before. He held her fate in his hands, the one to decide over the outcome of this very night, but also of their time together, the one to wield the sword when the time was right. And she’d blindly trust him, following him wherever his path may take him.

“Oh fuck, Jas’.” (Y/n)’s whispered words left him chuckling, and yet the sound didn’t carry any humour, no, it dripped with something dangerous. Within seconds he had forced her off the floor, pressed to his naked, muscular chest. She didn’t anticipate his hand finding her mouth, choked on her surprised gasps as he forced two fingers down on her tongue, leaving (y/n) trembling in his grasp.

“I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” A hum left her while tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto the ground as Jasper kept fucking her, ruthlessly taking what he was needy for. She knew that she couldn’t drag this out much longer, knew that she’d cum way too soon, but she couldn’t care about that, could only care about the way he was fucking her. “Touch yourself for me, darlin’.”

Her shaky fingers found her clit, hastinly circling it to push her over the edge. She kept on trembling, kept on humming around his fingers as her walls clenched his cock. Jasper’s pace didn’t falter, stuck on the fast pace that pushed her into another dimension as she came.

The white, hot sensation flushed through her, leaving her breathless as Jasper kept fucking her, not backing down. Her orgasm had a tight grasp on her, longer than ever before, all because of the groaning man who was about to give in, set on imprinting himself on her walls. And with a simple “Fuck” leaving Jasper, he came, holding onto (y/n) till his orgasm passed.

Both were panting, only slowly letting go of one another as their bodies relaxed. (Y/n) plopped down on the ground with Jasper following moments later. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, only staring at one another with smiles glued to their lips.

“I hope you know that I won’t let you out of my sight ever again.” Jasper’s words left her chuckling, forcing her closer as her lips found his, pressing a soft kiss against them.

“As long as you don’t break my heart, cowboy.”

#Jasper Hale smut #Jasper Hale x reader #Jasper Hale imagine #twilight

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flowercrowngods · 2 months

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why must i think of prisoners Ranger!Steve and Bard!Eddie so constantly and why must they be so tender and why hhhh

Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess.

Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory.

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is.

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery.

Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when—

“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.”

Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore.

“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain.

It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.

Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak.

Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then.

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now.

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now.

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.”

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much?

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?”

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much.

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to to is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful.

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off.

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter.

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.”

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.”

“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile.

“Not with my friends, no.”

This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft.

“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now just how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.”

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.”

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders.

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

#steddie fic #steddie #also steve and hop are soft in this one honestly just ask me to post the whole 4.6k thing and i will but it doesn't have a beginning or end #we just vibing like fr it's just steve whump and everyone being gentle on him and also some humour for kindness #no taglist for this bc it isn't even a thing but man i keep thinking about them why must all my aus be so weird and niche?

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thedustyleaves · 5 months

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Sorry if you’ve answered this before, but I really love how your illustrations have such a cohesive color palette, how do you pick your colors to have a certain theme without looking monochromatic?

(In your breakdown on the saloon/western BP illustration, you mentioned that the overall color was reddish brown so you added blue to the main group to set them apart. But like how did you decide on which reddish brown colors to use for the flats?)

Thank you!! Your art is really expressive and the colors always work so well in the illustration. I’m always in awe of your pics

That’s an excellent question! My drawings actually start out pretty monochromatic because I tend to put most of my effort into the lighting and shading part to help differentiate where I want people to look.

For all of my pieces, I want my characters to be in focus. So no matter what, I always have to keep their main colors in mind and make sure their outfits and the background don’t clash with them (Kain’s red hair tends to be a problem, pft).

For my flats, I generally work with two main colors that tend to contrast each other and then I mix a lot of neutrals around them. (Sometimes the main colors are in the light and shading itself, but I’ll just focus on the flats!).

Sometimes, I will change the hue of their colors. So while Kain has bright orange hair, I will dull it down if it overwhelms the piece or doesn’t fit with the tone - like I did for the cowboy drawing - but never so much that it no longer looks like him.

With the cowboy drawing as an example, if I strip it down to my flats, it instantly becomes very dull and monochromatic. I really enjoy working with these colors because they’re easy on the eyes (or my eyes specifically) and I can see the difference in subtle hues a lot better than if they were very high in contrast. I like working with subtleties when I want background characters to become a single unit but still be separated as individual people.

When I picked the colors for the background, I wanted to separate the characters from the walls. Therefore, I kept the walls red and gold, and the characters brown - they’re still within the same warm-colored family, but they’re far enough away from each other that they don’t become one with each other. I also like to not have clothes from different characters blend together, so overlapping colours can't be the same. I made one coat lighter than the other, the glove warmer than the dark jacket, and so on.

(their coats are also in the same realm as the green/gold colour of the details for the curtains and the frames on the walls)

For the paintings I actually chose to put a bit of blue and green in to help create some interest for the main characters and keep your eyes around that area, as it matches the blue they’re wearing, just a whole lot darker. It also makes them pop just enough so they look interesting against the wall, but not enough to overshadow the main characters

I know, because of the way I work with layers, that when I add my overlays, I automatically brighten and saturate the colors a lot. It’s a lot easier for me to saturate something “dull” and move it into all kinds of hues than saturating something already high in contrast and then trying to force it into a new color theme.

But because of this, I usually have to go back and change the colors I work with constantly while the overlays are on. Since the overlays don’t know what sort of materials they’re laying on top of, everything gets lighter and washed out, so dark skin tones, hair, and clothes have to be corrected one by one afterward. If I were to remove the overlays after I corrected it to make it feel like a dark blue outfit on Raki, it’s basically just a black void now; but with the overlay, it’s a dark blue outfit. Before that, he simple blended in with the background too much and he didn’t feel like he was a part of the group either.

I always try to put down colors how I imagine they’re going to look like, unaffected by light, but I’m also naturally drawn toward more earthy and warm tones, so all of my color choices will tend to lean that way.

Here’s another example of main colours vs. neutrals; the main colours are red and green/turquoise, with dark browns and greys to encapsulate them, and gold for accents or to make certain things pop (the chair, Dakon’s dark coat, etc.).

I never want them all to wear the exact same color, but I want them to feel connected and be in the same 'colour family,' so Dakon and Kain have nearly the same dark red/brown, and Christie and Raki have nearly the same 'bright'/red.

The blacks and browns, I’ve kept warm as well, so they stay within that realm of red. I also make sure that none of them are too close to Kain’s hair since he’s in the middle of the piece, and I want your eyes to be drawn toward the middle, and his orange hair helps with that.

The paintings I basically do not care too much about, as long as each individual painting has a single dominating colour. I mute them down with a darker overlay and ensure they don’t have strong shadows and light, so they get pushed to the background, so despite being a bunch of different colours, each painting feels like a solid color and they’re still cast in the same light as the rest of the piece, so they feel like they belong in the same room.

I try to help move the eye around the piece as well, so I keep the big painting sort of in the same realm of red and brown as the main characters, because it’s so big it shouldn’t dominate with a new color and force interest toward it. The blue/purple ones melt in with the background as they’re close to the turquoise background, but without disappearing, the yellow ones work sort of like the gold accents and blend in with the frames, and the green paintings at the top give the illusion of a monochrome fade, so everything gets more eerie and green as the image goes up - there’s also a subtle green fade that affects the gold accents from the top down, to enhance that effect.

This is just a few examples, if there are any pieces in particular you were thinking of, and it’s neither of these, just let me know, and I can break those down as well!

Thank you for the question; I hope I answered it somewhat, and thank you for the kind words! <3

#asks #tutorial

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nataliasquote · 3 months

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Double the trouble | a day out | n romanoff

Part of the ‘Double the trouble AU’

Summary: a day trip with 2 3-year-olds is a lot to handle…

Warnings: none

Pairings: WandaNat

wc: 2.9k

note: this was a request from anon (my first request!) so I hope I did it justice

- ⧗ -

Isla was always the loudest twin. She had all her firsts before her sister; word, steps, you name it, she beat Y/n to it. Which often left the younger girl feeling behind and unworthy, born to only follow in the shadows of her twin sister.

Natasha and Wanda tried their hardest to treat their girls equally, but with Y/n’s reluctance to try anything new and Isla’s strong temperament, they had a difficult situation on their hands.

Being three years old meant days were filled with trips to the park and fun days out for the whole family. Isla had been begging to go to the zoo, the colourful picture books she begged Wanda to read every night cementing her love for animals. Y/n nodded when asked if she wanted to go too. But what was she supposed to say? She did everything Isla did.

But the zoo wasn’t her thing. Whilst her older sister toddled around and pointed animatedly at all the different animals, Y/n stayed beside the stroller, her tiny hands fiddling with the fabric seat as she stared at the concrete pavement. Natasha tried her hardest to involve her, often picking her up so she could see over the fences and pointing to the monkeys who were chasing each other around the enclosure. But the little girl was having none of it, her fist wrapped around the strap of her mama’s tank top.

“What’s the matter maylshka?” Natasha asked, holding Y/n tight to her body as she lead them both over to a nearby bench. “I thought you loved the zoo?”

The small girl shook her head, flaming hair falling loose from its braids. “Isla like zoo. Not me.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she looked at her daughter. “But you said you wanted to go?”

Y/n gave her mother a glare. A very familiar one at that. “No. Isla said go. Not me.”

Natasha shifted so her daughter was now sat on her knee. She gently moved a stray piece of hair from her forehead and kissed it gently, rubbing the soft cotton of her t-shirt. “I’m sorry malyshka. I thought you wanted to go too.”

“It’s ok Mama,” Y/n said, placing her cool palms on her mother’s warm cheeks. Natasha smiled softly at the gesture and booped her on the nose, making the young girl giggle. “Can we get ice cream?”

Natasha pretended to think for a moment. “Ice cream? Hmmm, I don’t know.”

“I think yes!”

“Do you? And does Y/n make the rules now?”

The young girl nodded happily, her whole body moving with the force. “Ice cream!”

“Ok, big girl. Let’s get ice cream.” Natasha stood up from her seat and began to set Y/n down on the ground, but the three year old clung to her front like the monkeys behind her, tiny heels digging into Natasha’s waist. There were many things Nat loved about her youngest, but Y/n’s clingy nature was by far her favourite. It made her feel wanted, important.

With a stroller handle in one hand and a child balanced carefully in the other, Nat set off towards the jungle themed cafe she’d spotted on the map by the gate. Wanda had taken Isla off to god knows where, the young girl unable to sit still with so much happening around her.

The cafe itself was rather busy so Natasha expertly manoeuvred the stroller into a corner booth table and kicked the brake down so it wouldn’t roll into anyone’s way. She sank down onto the cushioned blue seat and allowed Y/n to straddle her lap, soft red hair tickling her nostrils as the young girl lay against her mother’s chest.

Natasha quickly scanned her surroundings before pulling out her phone and punching a quick update text to Wanda, who replied back with a video of Isla at the penguin enclosure.

“Look Y/n,” she turned her phone so the young girl could see but Y/n didn’t pay much attention. She watched for two seconds before her head went straight back to Natasha’s collarbone, finding more comfort there than anywhere else. “You’re really not bothered by the zoo, huh?”

Y/n shook her head lazily, her thumb coming up to brush against her lips, a telltale sign for Natasha who was well trained in motherhood.

“I think someone’s tired?” Another sleepy nod. “You wanna go for a nap, detka?” Talking was clearly too much for Y/n, who only replied with yet another nod. Natasha took her response and pulled the stroller close. However, she was met with some resistance as she tried to transfer a now squirmy three year old into her seat. “What’s wrong?”

“-na stay with you,” Y/n mumbled around her thumb before Nat gently prised it out of her mouth. Y/n’s big green eyes blinked up at her tiredly and Natasha couldn’t help but coo at the sight. Her girls were the most adorable things in her life and when they were tired they were so precious.

Nat moved her body back into the corner of the booth and allowed Y/n to swivel around so she was flat against her chest, cheek resting comfortably on the softness of Natasha’s chest. They may not be fed like that anymore, but the twins still found great comfort from their mamas’ chests.

It didn’t take long for Y/n’s breaths to even out and Natasha couldn’t help but take a quick selfie with her daughter, the moment too precious to capture. She stared at her screen with a blissful expression before posting it to her close friends’ instagram story. Only family and the occasional friend was allowed on there, and Yelena of course was the first to send a reply.

@ yelenabelova7

you better be bringing those munchkins to me soon. I want baby Y/n hugs too

Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed as she replied, flawlessly typing even with one hand.

@ natromanoff

i’m impressed you got the twin right. and i’m not putting them on a plane so you’ll have to come here. I know isla would love that.

@ yelenabelova7

I can’t believe you doubt me Natasha. I know my Y/n when I see her. Besides, she’s always clinging to you. You got the quiet one. Wanda has her hands full with the other monkey

@ natromanoff

They’re both our children, Lena. Wands is just happy to be dragged around a zoo. I’d rather sit

@ yelenabelova7

HA! You’re getting old sestra. You’re a mother, not a grandma. Not yet anyway.

Yelena’s comment made Natasha roll her eyes and place her phone down on the table. She cradled Y/n’s head to her chest and rocked her gently back and forth. A smile broke out across her face as she spotted her wife push through the large glass doors, Isla tugging on her arm impatiently.

Natasha held a finger up to her lips as her favourite girls approached, trying not to disturb her youngest. But her efforts were in vain as Y/n recognised the approaching voices and lifted her head to peer around. Wanda bent down and kissed her head softly, brushing her hair back as she pulled away.

“Hello sleepy head,” she cooed, taking a seat on the opposite bench and pulling Isla onto her lap. “Did the ice cream make you sleepy?”

“We didn’t even get that far, did we?” Natasha laughed, watching as Y/n’s head perked up at the mention of the sweet dessert.

“Can we get it now?”

Wanda looked down at Isla. “You wanna get some with me and we can bring it back for Y/n and Mama?”

“Sure!”

“Me go too!” Y/n squirmed off Natasha’s lap and ran over to Wanda, taking the hand on her other side. “Mama stay?” She asked, looking back at Natasha.

The redhead nodded. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Wanda led the twins away like a mother duck and her ducklings, holding their hands tight until they reached the large glass cabinet. The young woman behind the counter smiled at the precious sight in front of her as the twins stretched up on their toes to peer in.

“Pink!” Y/n exclaimed, pointing to the candy floss ice cream that sounded disgusting in Wanda’s eyes. “Can I get pink?”

“Mommy I want chocolate!”

“What do we say when we want something?” Wanda asked, putting on her best ‘mom’ voice.

“Pleeeeeese?” The girls chorused, tiny toothy smiles dazzling up at their mommy. The worker chuckled and caught Y/n’s eye so she smiled widely at her too.

“That’s better. And yes, you can get whatever you would like. But you have to ask the nice lady politely.”

Isla being Isla spoke up first, puffing out her chest as she took a deep breath. “Please can I have chocolate please?” She pointed into the cabinet, just in case the server wasn’t sure which one was chocolate.

“Of course you can sweetheart. Is that in a cone or a cup?” Isla looked at her blankly and turned to Wanda, a clear cry for help.

“The smallest cone you do please. And just one scoop.” The girl nodded and began preparing her order. “They don’t need too much sugar.”

Once Isla’s order was complete the server turned to Y/n who was staring intently at all the colourful flavours. “Which one would you like sweetheart?”

“Pink?”

“Strawberry?” Y/n looked up at Wanda, tugging her sleeve for help. The mother shook her head and watched to see which one her daughter pointed too. Granted, Y/n could barely point in the right direction but her intention was enough to go off.

“I think she means the candyfloss. The one with the glitter on it.”

Y/n’s was scooped into a similar cone to Isla and then placed on the stand. Wanda quickly sorted herself and Natasha out; two scoops of honeycomb crunch in a cup for herself, and a double scoop of caramel coffee for Nat. Wanda always teased her wife for crunching on the coffee beans that topped her scoop. Natasha sure was a strange one when it came to her flavour preferences.

Ice creams clutched tightly in hands, Wanda ushered her little ducklings back to the safety of the booth where Natasha was waiting, a large grin plastered onto her face that mirrored that of her ice cream laden babies.

Sweet treats were consumed from the safety of the jungle themed cafe and Isla and Y/n swung their feet happily as they nibbled on their cones. Sticky hands and faces were just inevitable and Wanda was soon ready to attack both with baby wipes the second they were done.

“Did you two see everything you wanted to?” Natasha asked, scrolling through the pictures on Wanda’s phone of Isla at various exhibits.

“I saw lions!” Isla bared her teeth and roared, shaking her head like she’d seen the majestic creature do hours earlier. “And the ‘raffes!”

“Giraffes?”

“Yeah!”

Y/n tugged on Natasha’s sleeve and pointed to part of the mural covering the wall to her right. “They have those here?”

The colourful sea creatures were definitely oversaturated; pink sharks didn’t sit comfortably with Natasha. But she followed Y/n finger to a sparkly blue turtle and smiled, noticing how Isla and Wanda also did the same.

“I saw a sign for an aquarium around the corner,” Wanda said. “There could be turtles in there.”

“We go!”

“Now hold on a minute-“ Wanda started, but telling two sugared-up three years olds on a mission to slow down was a fruitless effort. Natasha grabbed both of their tiny wrists and gently tugged them back to the table, earning little angry glares from both girls.

“What did we say about running off?”

“But-“

“Not buts, Y/n. What did we say?”

“Don’t run off,” they said in unison, the floor now much more interesting than Natasha who wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok munchkin, just wait 2 minutes and we’ll be ready.”

Wanda and Natasha packed up quickly and headed towards the aquarium side of the zoo, eyes glued to the two little girls in front of them whose hands were tightly clasped together. They may have their favourite parent and stay glued to their side, but Y/n and Isla’s bond truly was unbreakable. Starkly different, yet inseparable.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #fanfic #double the trouble au

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

i need james or remus w a shy reader 🙏🙏 maybe where they are shopping and she forgot her purse but doesn’t want to spend his money

love love love this idea, tysm anon!! first remus blurb omg

fem!reader 0.7k words

Remus waits in the shoe section for you while you try on your clothes in the dressing rooms. You hadn’t told him to, but he could tell you felt shy about him seeing you in new clothes. So he’d given you your space while you tried them on.

Now, you’re smiling shyly as you approach him, your arms laden with clothes.

“How’d it go?” He asks as you come to a stop two steps too far away from him. Remus closes the gap. Your smile goes from shy to shyer.

“It went okay,” you say quietly, rearranging the pile of clothes in your arms. “The pink dress looked weird. But I really liked the blue one.”

Remus beams. He’d picked out the blue one. He feels very proud of himself. “Yeah? And the top?”

You nod and lift your eyes to his. You’re too pretty for the store’s harsh white lighting, Remus thinks. Too soft.

“That was good, too,” you say. “The colours are nice.”

“Awesome,” he says. He reaches out and takes the pink dress from you. It’s quite short, he notices, and would probably show a lot more leg than you’re used to. Maybe that’s why you don’t like it. “You sure you didn’t like this one? I think it’s nice.”

You shake your head. “Nah, not my style.”

Remus shrugs and hangs the dress over his elbow. “Okay. That’s okay, dove. I’ll put it back, if you want. And you’re definitely getting those two?”

He points to the two remaining pieces in your arms, a flowery top that suits your skin tone and the pale blue dress he’d seen and made a beeline for earlier. They’re both very pretty, and Remus can’t wait to see you wear them.

You nod happily. Remus thinks maybe he should come clothes shopping with you more often, if you’re gonna be this adorable every time. He’s been missing out.

Remus sets off to return the pink dress to its place. It only takes a minute or two, but when he returns you’re not waiting in the checkout line like he thought you’d be. You’re standing just shy of the line, looking distraught. Remus feels a rush of panic like a stab to his heart.

“Dove?” He approaches you quickly, his hand quick to clasp around your elbow. “Are you okay?”

You look up at him and your face crumples. “I’ve forgotten my wallet,” you say, your tone far too close to self-deprecating for his liking.

Remus relaxes. From the look on your face he’d thought it was something much worse than that. Still, he squeezes your elbow because you do look very sad.

“Oh, that’s okay.” He drags his hand down your forearm and curls his fingers around your wrist. “I’ll pay, bub.”

You somehow manage to look even more distraught than a second ago.

“No,” you say desperately, shaking your head so fast Remus is scared you’ll get a headache. “You don’t have to do that, Remus. I just won’t get them.”

You make to turn away but Remus snags your wrist, pulling you back into him. You go from startled to shy in a matter of seconds.

“Y/N,” he says, patient but firm. He’d seen how excited you were about the clothes and can’t bear to let you put them back. “Don’t be silly. I’ll pay.”

You look helpless and a bit like a lost puppy as Remus takes the clothes from you.

“I’ll pay you back,” you blurt.

Remus shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry. Your payment for my extreme generosity can be giving me a fashion show when we get home.”

He’s half teasing and half totally serious. You whine and hide your face in his shoulder, your way of saying Remus, please. Remus just chuckles fondly and rubs your back, knowing if he says anything more you’ll probably melt into a puddle.

When the clothes are payed for and you’re out of the store, Remus holds the bag out to you. You take it, albeit shyly.

“Thank you,” you say, so quiet Remus barely hears you. He can tell you want to say more, but it’s always hard for you to find the right words. He saves you the trouble, before you get too worked up.

“S’no problem,” he says, because it really isn’t. He’d spend himself dry for you if you asked for it. He’d give you anything you want in the world. He wants to tell you so, only you’re already very hot in the face and he doesn’t want you bursting into flames in the middle of the mall.

He opts for a kiss to your head instead.

#★ mal writes!#ღ remus #✉️#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n

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rubystatic · 8 months

Text

Asking For Trouble

I wasn't sure what to write for my first post here. I haven't written for Hazbin Hotel before, but I figured what better introduction to the fandom than a literal introduction between Alastor and the reader? I've had this scene rattling around in my head for a few weeks, so I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Contents: demonic summoning, Alastor being an eldritch horror, hints of gore, blood, minor self-injury (not sh)

The red paint glistens like fresh blood in the light of the candles. A dozen or more of them, scattered around your living room, resting atop the coffee table, the TV stand, melted onto the top of the bookcase and the windowsill. Thick, black candles you bought from the Halloween clearance sale at the local big box store. You don’t think colour matters, but it felt right for the occasion. If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it right.

A clear space dominates the centre of the room—all the furniture has been pushed aside, crowding up against the walls to make room. You’ve rolled up the living room rug and propped it against the stairs.

When you first moved into your basement apartment, you were dismayed to discover that it had a poured concrete floor, and that the landlord hadn’t bothered to put in carpet or laminate or even cheap lino. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the rent price was such a steal, you didn’t dare question him on it in case he decided he wanted a less whiny tenant.

You have reason to be grateful for it now, though. A red pentagram painted on a wooden floor or carpet would be a quick way to make sure you never got back your security deposit. A bit of turpentine and it’ll be like this never happened.

Assuming that you’re still alive. If this even works.

The thing that started it all, a simple black notebook—some Moleskine rip-off—sits open at the edge of your circle, along with a whole mess of measuring implements. A simple protractor wasn’t good enough for something like this. You’d had to buy some stuff off the internet, and now your Amazon recommendations looked like a geometry professor’s wet dream.

And there I was, thinking 10th grade math would never get me anywhere in the real world.

You pick up the notebook, glancing between the scrawled diagrams and measurements and your own summoning circle. It looks right. It had better be, since you spent all afternoon hunched over, painting it with dollar store acrylic paints. Oh, and your life depends on it. Can’t forget that much.

The notebook is a journal of sorts. You found it behind the bookcase when you first moved in, wedged there and forgotten. The pages are covered in the feverish scrawl of a previous resident. At first you felt a little weird about reading it, but curiosity overcame any moral quandary you had in the end.

The journal outlines the three month period it took for a young writer to seemingly descend into madness as his work was rejected, over and over. As his girlfriend left him, his father died, and his life fell to pieces. He became more and more desperate, his writing growing erratic. His writing research had already led him down some occult paths, but it seemed he’d decided to pursue them even further.

Which was you’ve come to be kneeling on your living room floor, trying to summon a demon.

Taking a deep breath, you flip to the last page, where the invocation is written, the pen almost tearing through the paper in some places. It’s the last entry.

You reach out, and use your fingertips to push a plate of venison over the boundary line, into the centre of the pentagram. The meat is a dark, pinkish red, practically pulsing with blood and vitality, as the journal instructs.

Getting it necessitated a trip outside city limits to a questionable butcher in the countryside who specialised in game meat. The journal is very clear—it has to be fresh. Supermarket meat won’t cut it.

Everything is in place. There’s nothing left to do but begin.

You take a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you lift the journal, holding it open. You have a strange feeling of duality, that you’re both at once powerful and ridiculous. Someone tearing open the veil between worlds to seek higher (or lower) power, and someone playing pretend.

You force yourself to ignore the latter, pushing it aside and holding onto the image that what you’re doing is going to work. Faith is important, even if it isn’t invested wisely.

“Let—”

Oh, shit, you’ve forgotten a step.

Dropping the journal in your haste, you reach for the small pen knife lying at the edge of the circle. Gritting your teeth, you tighten your grip on the wooden handle, and make a small cut on the side of your thumb. Holding your fist out over the circle, you let a few beads of blood, looking almost black in the candle light, splatter the venison.

You open a bandaid and slap it over the cut, pleased you haven’t completely sliced your palm open like they do in movies. Don’t they know how long that takes to heal?

Anyway, back to the demon summoning.

“Let this offering of flesh and blood open the veil between the earthly realm and the depths of Hell,” you read aloud, your voice becoming stronger with every word.

No wonder that writer guy couldn’t get his shit published if this is how he wrote everything. Despite the stilted prose, you keep reciting it aloud, just glad it’s not in Latin, or worse, rhyming.

“I summon you, o’ Deal Maker, Keeper of Bargains, Purchaser of Souls—”

Seriously? Writer of Bullshit, more like.

“I summon you, Alastor!”

You hold your breath as the last echoes of your voice fade from the walls, waiting for something to happen. The candles continue to flicker gently, and you can hear the muted hubbub of voices from your neighbour’s TV upstairs. Your knees are starting to hurt from sitting on the floor.

Sighing, you let the journal drop to the floor. It hasn’t worked. Of course.

Why did you think this was going to work? Summoning a demon of all things—

The candles ripple as if stirred by a breath, then their flames spike upwards, rigid. The light throws shadows across the walls, but the shadows don’t move in the right way. They sway back and forth, almost in a trance, as if the room is tilting side to side.

The candle flames stretch up and up, thinning out into streamers. The golden glow dims, before blooming a bright, venal red. Your ears fill with the sound of static as the painted lines of the summoning circle begin to glow crimson. Smoke boils up from the centre into a plume of pulsing fog, backlit by the red light and twitching shadows.

Something very old, buried and half-forgotten in your DNA screams at you to run, but you’re frozen to the spot, gaping as a figure takes form within the smoke. A tall, thin silhouette, long limbs distorted. Ice seeps into your gut.

The smoke clears, leaving an apparition, a demon, in your living room. It is not the monster you expected. No red skin, no black pits for eyes, no fire and brimstone… But whatever he is, he’s definitely not human.

Stretching from floor to ceiling, he must be seven feet tall or more, with a thin, attenuated form and an inhumanly narrow waist. The demon is a vision in red, from his hair to his suit to his eyes, red on red, his pupils black slits in a sea of glowing crimson.

It’s his smile that truly terrifies you, though.

His teeth gleaming, the colour of aged ivory. Two rows of sharp, dagger-like points, ready to sink into flesh, designed to rend and tear. Whatever this creature is, death sustains him.

Red hair, tipped in black, frames his face in a short bob, and tufts up at the top in what you think might be ears. Two small, black antlers jut from the top of his head.

The static in your ears crescendos like a wave crashing over your head, and the demon’s smile widens. He hums to himself, his voice a crackle, and looks around your meagre apartment. Finally, his gaze comes to rest back on you, the most interesting thing here.

“My, my,” he says, a strange, Transatlantic twang to his voice, “it’s been a while since someone summoned me. You really know how to set the mood, don’t you? Summoning circle, candles, and what’s this?”

He leans down to pick up the plate of venison. Your blood has seeped into the meat by now, indistinguishable from the dead deer’s blood. The demon uses his gloved hand to pick up a morsel of the meat, his red eyes widening in pleasure, before popping it into his mouth like an hors d'oeuvre.

“Delicious,” he praises. “Not a bit of fat on it, either. How did you know venison is my favourite?”

Before you can answer, his gaze lights upon the abandoned journal. He lets out a chuckle that’s half radio static.

“Oh, that old thing. I should have known!” He slaps his knee in an over-the-top display of amusement. “You’re all so eager to throw yourselves into the Abyss! Humans, lemmings, what’s the difference?!”

The demon pretended to wipe a tear of mirth from his eye, before finally paying attention to you again. His grin cranked up a notch, practically splitting his face in half, and his hooded red eyes gleamed at you.

“I haven’t introduced myself. How remiss of me. The name’s Alastor. A pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

The static in his voice fuzzed out, leaving behind a raspy baritone.

“Now, what can I do for you, darling?”

#rubystatic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #d's list of sins

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moremaybank · 8 months

Text

YOUR EYES OPEN — j.m

day six childhood friends to lovers with jj maybank

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary you and jj visit a fortune teller for a laugh at the first annual obx carnival, but her predictions end up coming true. (loosely inspired by all american 3x07)

warnings jj licking your fingers in a non-sexual way (lmao), pretty sure that's it. just hella fluff with bestie!jj

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; jj masterlist

“For a moment your eyes open and you know.” - Keane

You plucked a tuft of pink cotton candy from the cone in your hand. “Last piece. You want it?”

“Hell yeah. Give it to me.” JJ grabbed your wrist gently, bringing it toward his face so he could eat it. He goofily licked your fingertips to get rid of the stickiness, and your nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Ew, J. You actually have no boundaries.” You wiped the residue of his saliva on his shirt.

“We’ve been best friends since we were nine. What boundaries do we have left?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t argue with that. You and JJ had seen it all together. You’d been as vulnerable and open as two people could get with each other. You shouldn’t have been shocked by his…gross action. The man passed all kinds of gas around you twenty-four-seven. He’d eaten foods far past their expiry dates. You’d seen him drink spoiled milk on a dare (though you can’t say he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t dared to).

That’s not to say you two weren’t good for each other, because you undoubtedly were. JJ’s wild spirit helped you break out of your shell. He pushed you to try new things, push your boundaries, and make you see that you had all this untapped power inside you. You didn’t think he could surprise you any further, but he still managed to every day, even now in your twenties.

On his side of things, your calming presence grounded him. It provided him with the safety and the domestic feeling he’d longed for while living his life with Luke Maybank as his father. No matter how chaotic things became, all he had to do was take one look at you, and his mind calmed. You, even as a child, gave him a comfort he never knew he needed until he had it in the palm of his hand.

“I guess that’s true. You’re still gross though.”

He winked at you with a cheeky grin. “You love it.”

The sun began to dip below the horizon, and the warm hues of pink, orange and yellow painted the sky as the two of you made your way through the colourful maze of booths and rides. Laughter and music filled the air, and your mouths watered at the sweet smells of funnel cakes and caramel apples.

Your eyes wandered over all the activities surrounding you, and one specific booth caught your eye. You tugged on JJ’s arm. “J, look!”

His eyes followed your pointed finger to a quaint, candlelit tent a little ways from where you both stood. He squinted, trying to focus on the large lettering of the sign above the booth. “Madame Zara’s Mystical Fortunes. Are you for real?”

He couldn’t deny that it piqued his interest at least a little bit, but he also wasn’t sure about wasting ten bucks on words of ‘wisdom’ that you could easily get out of a fortune cookie.

“Why not? It’s all in good fun anyway.”

“Y/N/N, I can give you a fortune right now for free. Watch this.” JJ stood, raising his index fingers to his temples and closing his eyes. His voice picked up a spooky tone. “I predict that we’re going to go on the tilt-a-whirl in the next thirty seconds.”

His eyes open, and he points to the ride right next to you, clasping a hand over his heart with a shocked look on his face. “Oh my god, look! The tilt-a-whirl! I was right!”

You rolled your eyes at his mockery but still let out a laugh. “Come on. Do it for me?”

JJ looked into your pleading eyes and your jutted-out bottom lip, and felt himself starting to crack. He’d always had a soft spot for you. How could he deny your wishes when you looked at him like that?

He let out a large sigh. “Fine. But we’re hitting the tilt-a-whirl as soon as we’re done. And I don’t want any complaints about how fast I spin us.”

“Deal.”

You stepped into the dimly lit tent, where an older woman with piercing eyes welcomed you. “Welcome, young ones. I sense that you seek answers.”

You and JJ exchanged amused glances as you spoke. “Sure. Why not?”

She gestured for you to sit across from her at a small table, covered in a rich, purple velvet cloth. She took your right hand and JJ’s left, closing her eyes as her fingers traced invisible patterns on your palms.

“There’s an abundance of energy between you two,” she began in a hushed tone. “This night you embark upon…it’ll offer you both clarity, unlocking secrets hidden in the depths of your hearts.”

JJ laughed softly as a smirk took over his features. “Clarity, huh?”

You kicked his leg under the table, trying not to laugh. Madame Zara continued, though, unfazed by your shared skepticism.

“Remember, clarity often reveals truths you’ve chosen to ignore.”

You thanked the fortune teller and exited the tent. “That was…something.”

“It was a load of bull,” JJ laughed. “I mean, clarity? Clarity about what?”

“Who knows,” you replied. “Alright, we can go on your beloved tilt-a-whirl now.” JJ grinned at that, grabbing your hand and tugging you over to the ride.

You two spent the evening going on every ride you could manage and indulging in all the sweets you came across. You’d be sick to your stomachs by the night’s end, but you couldn’t bring yourselves to care.

The night wore on, and you found yourselves atop the ferris wheel, overlooking the brightly lit carnival below you. The twinkling stars above you seemed to be in perfect alignment. JJ had grown eerily quiet, which was odd for him, seeing as he was always bouncing off the walls with an energy you couldn’t quite comprehend.

You turned to look at him, planning to break the silence, when you caught his heated gaze. Your brows furrowed. “What’s that look for?”

He licked his lips, turning his body toward you slightly. “Nothin’, I was just thinkin’ that psychic lady was right.”

“Right about what?” You asked. All of a sudden, things had turned serious, which was rare for you two. Everything about your friendship was fun and lighthearted, but it didn’t feel that way anymore. At least, not at that moment.

“About me needing clarity. Y/N, we’ve been best friends for so long. I mean, we’ve been through everything together. But sometimes…sometimes it feels like there’s somethin’ more. Somethin’ we both kinda deny.”

Your eyes searched his for an understanding. “What are you saying, J?”

“I think— Nah, I know. You’re my world. You make everything better, make everything brighter. I love you, pretty girl. I’m in love with you.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. Suddenly, the fortune teller’s prediction didn’t seem so foolish or ridiculous. In that moment, that same clarity JJ felt washed over you. The lightbulb switched on inside your head. You realized that you weren’t just in love with the idea of your friendship; you were in love with him.

“I’m in love with you too, J,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand found his, and your fingers intertwined. He smiled at you brighter than he ever had, and his eyes sparkled as the moonlight bounced off of them.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“You definitely should.”

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @surftrips @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @somerandos-world @peachpitlover @sya-skies @emmalandry @gillybear17 @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @madelynie @urbestieboo @abbybarnesstuff @lovelyxtom @camelliaflow3r @dirtytissuebox @runningfrom2am

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kamisatomay018 · 4 months

Text

A string that can no longer connect..

Xiao x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, hurt with no comfort, character death

A lot of you wanted me to start writing angst, so here it is! I hate hurting Xiao even more-

Perhaps you should have heeded to their warnings. Perhaps, had you just stayed in Liyue harbour, your unending misery could have been avoided. Perhaps, had you not been so foolishly in love with someone so out of your reach, your heart wouldn’t be bleeding right now. Perhaps….had fate not been so cruel to you, your tears would have dried up by now.

You felt like a body without a soul, like a mind without a purpose, your once beating heart had become a hollow pit through which harsh echoes of that one voice kept ringing unstoppably. It felt as if your heavy heart would soon make you sink to the ground, let the earth swallow you whole until not even one fragment remained. In the endless sea of colours, you were the black paint now, unhappy and dull, standing out the most although all you wished to do was hide and wallow in your misery.

You never knew it was possible to feel pain of this magnitude. Never once did you think that the heavens above would snatch your happiness away like this. You felt deceived, betrayed and beyond hurt. The Red String Of Fate, just thinking about it made you scoff. What a joke, there was no such thing as love in your life. Every step you took farther away from Wangshu Inn intensified the burning sensation in your ring finger, where the red string appeared. It kept on stretching away and away, the burning feeling like the string screaming at you to stop walking away, to just run back and embrace the one to whom you were tied. But you knew you could not do that.

You did not have the strength nor the courage to go back to the man who had caused your pain. You couldn’t face him again after you gifted him his heart, only for him to return it to you completely shattered and bleeding. Archons, it hurts so much, please make it stop..

You didn’t know where your feet were leading you, but after what felt like hours you fell to the ground, screaming in agony as that one voice refused to leave your mind, his harsh words echoing again and again that made your head spin. Your tears stained the ground, your soul slowly ripping itself apart piece by piece as you remembered what had transpired just moments ago.

Dangerous golden eyes pierced into yours, looking at you with a gaze so cold that you felt your heart freezing right there. “Soulmates? Tsk, we adepti have no need nor the time for such ridiculous things. Leave mortal, and never come back.” You felt tears well up in your eyes, not being able to believe this. You thought that he would feel happy, at least accept you but no, he simply rejected you, as if you were a nuisance for him. “But xiao..look, we are bound together by fate..how can i just be without you?”

He let out a cruel scoff, folding his arms and looking away. “That is a matter that does not concern me, but only you. I don’t want this fated bond, I reject it.” And that’s it, the tears dropped down one after the other, the ache in your heart haunting your being. “Then..why did you protect me so many times..why did you appear before me..”

“I am an adeptus, and it is my sworn duty to protect Liyue and its people. I am bound by a contract upon Rex Lapis’ orders. Do not think that this fact, by any means, makes you special. Mortals do not belong with adepti, nor do adepti need any companionship. Do not disturb me any further, Leave.”

Each word he spoke caused your soul to crack little by little, your heart completely broken while every fibre of your being ached. It was cruel, so cruel for him to do this to you. Yet you mustered the courage to look him in the eye, letting him break you once more. “So…you do not feel anything for me?”

“No, I don’t. Return to Liyue harbour and never come back here.” And just like that, he disappeared from your sight, leaving you alone and broken.

How easy it was for him, a mighty adeptus to scoff at a mere mortal like you, abandoning you as if it was nothing new for him. But who would tell him that he was your whole world? He was your hope, your soulmate, your love. How were you supposed to just be okay like this? How were you supposed to recover when you had lost yourself bit by bit with every step you took away from him until there was nothing left for you to lose? What a fool you were, thinking that the Conquerer of Demons would return your feelings.

Unbeknownst to you, Xiao had watched you leave from the rooftop of Wangshu inn, and every fibre of his being begged him to make you stop, to beg for your forgiveness and let you stay by his side. Yet he fought all those urges, simply watching your figure grow smaller and smaller, until you completely disappeared from his sight. Only he knew how much pain he was in right now, how the words he had so cruelly spat to you were now stabbing at his conscience, ready to kill him. But no matter how much he wanted, no needed you by his side, he could not be selfish.

You were the epitome of pureness and warmth in his eyes, while he was the ancient being with blood of countless gods and monsters on his hands, his soul tainted by karma. If you stayed with him, you would get tainted too, you would be in unimaginable pain too. Your mortal body wasn’t made to handle this amount of torture. Besides, he was so close to losing himself to his karma, his fear was that he would turn into the monsters he had sworn to purge. He could end up hurting, or even killing you in his madness. He had watched his beloved brothers and sisters go mad because of the karmic debt they carried, even turning against each other. Then how, pray tell, was he supposed to make you stay when he was aware of the danger he posed to your very existence?

That is why he let you go, speaking those harsh untruths so that hopefully you’d forget him one day and live a better life. He did not deserve love and kindness, he was a beast, a cruel and heartless monster whose only duty was to purge all evil until one day, his karmic debt would inevitably take his life. How was he supposed to condemn you to a fate so cruel? Taking a deep breath, he wiped off the lone tear that fell from his eye, reminding himself that all he had done was for your sake, to protect you.

But he would soon realise that he had done quite the opposite..

Only a day had passed by when he was passing through Dihua Marsh after slaughtering monsters. He then picked up the strong stench of blood- human blood. Frowning, he rushed towards the sight, only for his golden eyes to widen in horror, his mighty spear falling on the ground while he stood there, motionless. There lay your body, severely wounded and bleeding uncontrollably, painting the pure glaze lilies around you, instantly causing them to wither away. How..how was this possible..

He approached your unconscious form, cupping your cheek softly, which to his pure agony had gone ice cold. You were no longer breathing, and he knew that he had lost you forever. Tears welled up in his eyes as he kneeled on the ground, picking up your lifeless form close to his chest. A shriek of pure agony and devastation left him, his entire being churning in excruciating pain. It was all his fault, he was the reason why you were now dead. Not only had he broken your heart, but he had also managed to steal your chance of living a perfect life.

He begged, ached for you to come back, but it was of no use. He had lost you for good, only being left with enormous amounts of guilt and grief that would torture his soul eternally. He looked down at your limp hand, noticing the red string that bound you to one another. Only, it began fading away, and xiao cried in pain as it disappeared all together, signalling that he had lost his soulmate. Oh how cruel fate was to him, stealing away every single person that gave him happiness. First his family, and now his love.

His soul that once wished to be free of all binds, now begged fate to grant it one more chance to be bound to yours by that very red string, but what followed its plea was a deathly, deafening silence..for a string that gets snapped once, can no longer connect again.

#genshin impact #genshin fanart #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin angst #angst #light angst #xiao #adeptus xiao #genshin xiao #yaksha #red string of fate #red string au

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angstywaifu · 2 months

Text

The Lost Sister - Part 10

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

A/N: I really hope you guys like this part. This was a sneaky last minute addition to the story. Like I literally wrote this yesterday! Cause I feel like we deserve some brother and sister time with Ophelia and Xaden. Requests are OPEN, and if you want to be on the tag list just let me know! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

I’d found this spot weeks ago while wandering the halls later at night. Sitting atop the tower, I could see all the the college and the valley and mountains surrounding us. It was beautiful at night. Though the sight of the dragons I occasionally saw was now a little eerie after today. In a few days I would be expected to walk out there and try bond with a dragon. No amount of classes or training from Melgren could spare me from that. It was all up to the dragons now. Least they had deemed me worthy at presentation today. What had I seen today? I was so sure I had seen white. But white wasn’t one of the colours we knew of. No one had ever seen a white dragon. Sure feathertails had some interesting colours to them from what we knew. But this was not a feathertail. I had only seen a glimpse of the white, but I knew whatever it belonged to was big.

A small shuffle on the ground behind me disrupts me from my thoughts. I don’t even have to turn to know who it is. I always had the uncanny ability to know when he was there.

“I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here. We were both good at finding places no one else knew about to get away.”

I look to my right to see Xaden comfortably lean on the pillar next to where I’m sitting on the ledge.

”We’ve always been very similar. Even if we don’t look it.” I say, earning a chuckle out of him.

”I assume the hair colour was something Melgren made you do?” He asks as he reaches out and grabs a piece of my burgundy hair with my natural black sneaking through.

I nod. “Yeah, though I fail to see how my hair would have given away who I was around the college. Wasn’t exactly known information you had a sister. Father did a pretty good job at keeping me hidden.”

He hums in agreement. Only those in Aretia and closest to us knew about me. He didn’t hide me away so to speak, but he didn’t flaunt or announce my arrival. Sometimes I wonder why that was. Was it to keep me safe? If it was, it didn’t matter in the end when they found me with him. It was if Melgren knew exactly who I was when he saw me.

“That he did. Till he didn’t.” He says almost angrily. “Clearly he didn’t send you away like he said.”

I shake my head, and I watch as Xaden’s onyx eyes harden. “No. I was with him, or with another higher up. I never went away.”

Xaden drops the piece of hair he had been holding, turning to look out over the valley, his hands gripping the stone ledge so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t break. Even the shadows he conjures look as if they want to lash out and break something. I could tell those five years had been hard. I hadn’t asked him or any of the others what it had been like, or what had happened. Part of me didn’t want to. But I’m sure with time I would find out. But the pain and anger Xaden is showing right now, it makes me want to know even less. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for Bodhi and Garrick. We are all so close. It would have wrecked them.

”I would murder him if he wasn’t already dead. He promised us he would keep you safe.” I almost don’t hear him with how quietly he says it.

”Technically he did.” I point out.

Xaden slowly glances sideways at me. Definitely not the right thing to say. But eventually he shrugs and nods his head slightly.

”I guess you’re right. You are alive. Which is all I could have asked for. Though, could have done without thinking you were dead for five years and literally so close I could have found you.” He stands back up and looks at me fully. “Did you know I was here?”

”Initially no. I knew you were alive, but that was it. Then about halfway into your first year here Melgren made a comment about you bonding a dragon. And then at a dinner I was forced to attend you and some of the others came up in conversation. But it wasn’t like I was free to roam around and try find you. I always had a guard on me. This is the most freedom I’ve had since he took me in. And I couldn’t risk trying to find you. I needed to play it smart.”

“You always knew how to read your opponents well. Finding strength and weaknesses. Clearly something I’d forgotten when you kicked my ass on the mat on your first day here.” He jokes, the mood shifting.

”Not my fault you under estimated me.” I tease.

He rolls his eyes before shoving my shoulder lightly. “To be fair you had no combat training at all last time I saw you. And I didn’t expect Melgren to have trained you like that. I hate to admit he did a good job.”

I nod. “He did, but I feel like now you would kick my ass. No way could I take you or someone like Garrick down that easily again.”

”You never know. Garrick would probably go easy on you. Speaking of which, what is going on between you two?” He asks as he leans back on the pillar and raising an eye brow at me.

I almost cringe at his words. I knew this was coming. I shouldn’t have said his name, but it just came so naturally to me. I lean back on the opposite pillar, turning my head to avoid my brothers gaze.

“It’s complicated.” I say sadly.

”You could say that again. But it always has been with you two.” He states bluntly.

I look over at him to see him smirking at me. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

”Oh come on O, we can all see it. It’s just you two who are to blind and stubborn to do anything about it. Well, more just stubborn now.” His eyebrow raising at the last part as if emphasising his point. “You two have always drawn to each other. Even when we were kids, there was always something different with you two. And then when we got older, it was pretty clear you two were getting feelings for each other.”

I look at my brother wide eyed. He had know this entire time. I can tell he is getting satisfaction in telling me neither of us had been subtle about our feelings. But I see a small flash of sadness in his eyes.

“Then the rebellion happened and none of us had time for anything like that. And now you have all the time in the world and you run off.”

I go wide eyed. Shit. Garrick had told him. Or Bodhi.

”So they told you then.” I say nervously.

He chuckles. “Garrick wasn’t too impressed Bodhi blurted it all out, but yes I know. Though was throwing the balm at him really necessary?”

”You would have done the same.” I retort.

”Yeah but with better aim. Next time aim for his head to knock some sense into him.” We both laugh at his comment. Poor Bodhi. “Can I ask why you ran? Surprised you didn’t just jump into his arms, would’ve given the poor healer a heart attack.”

Why hadn’t I? He wasn’t wrong. Before I had been taken by Melgren, I probably would have jumped into his arms. But now, it wasn’t as easy. Well, it was. I was just being stubborn.

“Because I’m scared. Scared that what if its not as good as we both want it to be. Scared that if it goes bad that I put a rift between you two. I am not being what could tear you two apart. What could tear all 3 of us apart.” I ramble as I push off the pillar and pace back and forth. Something I had gotten quite good at recently.

“Never thought I would hear you say you’re scared.” He says sarcastically, as I glare at him. “But, you know deep down that won’t happen. You know that if you go down this path with him, thats it.”

”You make it sound like we’re mated dragons or something.”

”As someone who has a dragon with a mate, trust me I would know.”

I look at him shocked. I had read about mated dragons, but had no clue he had one of them. From what I had read, the bond was strong. And riders with mated dragons we’re stuck together no matter what.

He laughs at my shocked face. “Just don’t take too long to sort your shit out. I’m getting sick of him staring longingly at you anytime you’re near us. He looks like a lost puppy, and it doesn’t suit him.”

And with that he walks off, leaving me atop the tower with my thoughts. He was right though. I couldn’t drag this out for much longer. But first I had to get through threshing.

Part 11

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis #the fourth wing #garrick tavis imagine #xaden riorson #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis fanfic

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ivryne · 1 year

Text

˖ ࣪ ‹ what once was ˖ ぅ

⋆ ᳝ ֺ featuring. ayato, childe (gn!reader)

★ ﹆ׂׂ ˖ synopsis. genshin men & why you broke up w them

★ ﹆ׂׂ ˖ warnings. angst no comfort, growing apart, jealousy, mentions of reader being a harbinger in childe’s part. harsh words sort of.

★ ﹆ׂׂ ˖ note. writing angst gives me so much joy lmaoo

01. AYATO

his work taking over him

It wasn’t always like this. Waking up in mornings alone, his side of the bed cold and untouched. It wasn’t always like this. Lone walks against the harsh sun of the noon, his place that once was there, guiding your hand is now gone—no longer with you. But what once was then is not what it is now. His work is consuming him whole, not allowing him to spare time—not even a little for you.

It wasn’t until you realized that it has been an endless cycle. Those midday strolls throughout Inazuma city, exploring in and out of vendors with hands entwined. Those nights where you were together, bodies pressing against another, his warmth engulfing your figure. Those moments where nothing but a piece of fragment hidden deeply beneath the façade of his mask.

He’s changed and no matter what you do or how much you try, it isn’t going to make a difference. His eyes that once was filled pools of love are now filled with a glare as cold as ice, almost similar to the colour of his hair. His touches that once was so gentle are now hurried and less sincere.

It wasn’t an easy decision—no it was the hardest decision you’ve ever made. But seeing that man, his eyes glued to his paperwork, the cup of tea untouched beside his elbow. That is not the man you love. This relationship is draining. Swallowing the both of you whole, leaving void puppets who are only playing the part.

Maybe it was selfish of you to keep a hold of him, maybe it was selfish of you to want him for yourself. But you can’t help it. You tried to understand him, you really did. Yet as time flutters by, your efforts were in vain.

You were enough of this. Enough of this madness. You know it is not good for you nor him. You both just don’t fit anymore. Those puzzle pieces that once glued connected has changed. Growing into different individual pieces that outgrew the connecting spaces, leaving a small crack that resulted into something bigger.

So you ended it and he understands. It ended after a long talk, intentioned to clear up any misunderstandings, any ill feelings. You know he loves you and you him, but that so-called strong emotion cannot stand alone. Like half a heart it wouldn’t be complete without the remaining piece. And so was your love with Ayato.

02. CHILDE

knows no boundaries

At this point, you were almost used to it. But there he was—your boyfriend—Childe being a little bit too comfortable with one of your acquaintances. With his arm draped across their shoulders, you couldn’t bite back that gnawing feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.

It was both of your oath to keep this relationship a secret. Harbingers aren’t supposed to fall in love. But why didn’t he bother to set some boundaries?

At first, it was casual touches, one that you did not care about. Because no matter how touchy he is with them, in the end he will always come back to you. And he made sure of it. But as days gone by, you notice his occasional touches started to linger. His hands that once lay casually on the blade of their shoulders, now made a home in their lower back.

You told him once, how uncomfortable you were getting with those physical interactions. But Childe is always Childe. Brushing you off, telling you how it wasn’t a big of a deal, repeating his said claims of “You’re the only one I love.”

How utter bullshit.

It was when they started reciprocating his gestures that you finally snapped. Waiting comfortably in his office, your legs crossed, sitting on the plush of his chair. You saw his eyes lit up when he was met with yours. Oh how satisfying it would be to defuse the light in his eyes once more. Just like how the abyss did.

You only return to him a cold gaze, bluntly saying that what you have is over and how he should just run to his other lover before leaving from the door, not forgetting to bump past his shoulders in the process. Sure it was petty but who the fuck cares.

It was when your friend, Signora told you that love is what a foolish deed. A waste of time and tears as she wept your fallen tears from your cheeks. You knew that this tension between you and Childe needs to be resolved. How you are both mature adults and not petty children. But for the time being, you let time do it’s work, slowly calming you down from all what’s worth. And from here you understand why harbingers don’t fall in love.

do not repost, share, or copy ! Reblogs and likes very much appreciated!! Thankyou for taking ur time to read this hope you enjoyed it! Follow me for more xx

©️ 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫.

#genshin x reader #ayato x reader #childe x reader #ayato angst #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader

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wisteriaiswriting · 8 months

Note

gwen, miles & hobie hcs w/ reader who is heavy into alternative fashion :D

would they be on board? how do they feel?

𝕊/𝕆 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕠𝕟

Words: 1560

𝟜𝟚! 𝕄𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕤: Pastel Goth

On earth 42 it’s constantly dark, so pastel fashion isn’t a common sight. Meaning for once, you’ve surprised him.

Whether or not you let him he will find a way to draw you. It could be a page dedicated to you in a sketchbook, with drawings and pictures. Or even graffiting you on the side of a building so everyone will see it. (Not worried about danger, they won’t be able to lay a hand on you.)

When something new steals your attention Miles will be on it instantly. And when the prowler wants something he gets it, so it’s guaranteed it’ll be in your hands by the end of the day.

If you have a pair of platforms (No matter the height,) he will wear them for a quick walk. You’d be surprised how well he can move in them, you’re pretty sure he ran through the city in them.

Ever so often when your back is turned he will steal a few pictures, all going into an album dedicated to you. Not that anyone will see them. (Aaron and Rio have caught him multiple times.)

His clothing is a lot darker, less goth but still similar vibes. On occasions he will just… throw a piece of his clothing at you. If you’re cold, his jacket is suddenly on your shoulders. A piece of clothing is missing? Not anymore, this is in its place.

If you are interested enough in ‘The Prowler,’ he might be willing to have another gauntlet made for you. Less dangerous of course but with your own personal touches, favourite colours and any other small detail will be added.

If you have similar size in clothing we will take something, not telling you either, letting you find out what he took. But if not, your accessories will do. Mainly jewllery so he has something of yours with him.

When he has a chance he will ‘play’ with your hair. Either doing elaborate styles or messing it up, ruffling it just before you shove him away. But won’t let you do his. (Yet, is worried you’ll want revenge.)

But if there are days you either can’t or don’t feel like making an outfit he is always ready. As soon as you say yes he suddenly becomes a fashion designer, laying clothes next to each other to test things, adding and taking accessories. Not stopping until he gets the perfect one.

𝟙𝟞𝟙𝟘! 𝕄𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕤: Decora

He will compare you to his graffiti, (He means it in the nicest way possible.) and about how he loves both of you and how colourful you are.

At any chance given he will have his sketchbook whipped out, sketching away. And they end up as either a page (or a few) dedicated to you or as future graffiti artworks.

If you want anything whether it’s clothing or accessories he won’t let you pay, his money is already handed over. At some point you bought something on your own and he looked so betrayed. (He didn’t want you to spend your own money now that you have him.)

If you include those colourful band aids he gets so worried. He’s scared that you got hurt and he couldn’t protect you. (Please tell him they’re for design, he will be so worried.) But once he is told he is buying you band aids as well. Whether or not they match he is buying you spiderman ones.

Please let him help choose some accessories, he would be so happy. He knows you wear so many but even a small handful would be amazing! (If you have any red and/or black ones he will choose them. Although trying to fit them in.)

If there is a day where neither of you have money or the energy to go out for a new outfit he will make you one. (I believe he knows how to sew.) Just pick a pattern, a few colours and materials and let him work. It would be one of the most magical items.

Unlike 42! Miles this one can not walk in them, let alone stand. It could be a few extra inches of height and even his spiderman powers could not save him from tumbling headfirst. If he tries to walk you better be ready to help.

On days where he has no schoolwork or spiderman duties he’s taking you to a new cafe or market. (Somewhere new each time.) If he can see you happy, whether it is a new accessory, some food or just seeing you happy.

This dude is so obvious. He will try to sneakily take photos but will end up in your face for the right angle. But in the end he does get his wanted pictures. (Which he sends to the group chat of him, Gwen, Pav and Hobie. Who complain about him and his pictures.)

Both of your fashion choices clash. How bright and full on yours is compared to his basic and darker colours. But if you get cold, then them clashing doesn’t matter, he will wrap you in his jacket before you know it.

𝔾𝕨𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕪: Fairy Kei

Assuming you have a sketchbook she will look through it, (With permission this time, she has learned.) and fawn over everything in it.

If she finds out you press flowers she will bring you any she finds, most of the time she doesn’t know which ones they are. She might ask you to press them so she can frame and hang them in her room.

Whether or not you enjoy many things, if there is something she thinks you will like, it is suddenly in your room.

She will find any type of jewllery you wear and (with your permission,) swap a few bits around. A dark necklace with a flower filled pendant has been swapped with one of Gwen’s, gold with small blue gemstones.

When she is on a mission on another earth she will try to find any clothing or books you would enjoy, spending more than needed time on the earth searching through thrift stores for you.

There will be times where neither of you want to leave the comfort of her room. This ends with Gwen playing her drums while you do whatever you want.

In times where you were learning a new language she would try to learn along with you, but everytime she tried it didn’t end well. Always giving up within the first week, but it’s the thought that counts right?

She could spend up to days trying to write the most perfect love letter for you, only for it to end up in her drums so you, hopefully don’t find it. (Spoilers, you did.)

If you are interested in history, either all over or specific times she will bring you to other earths that revolve around them. (As long as it’s safe.)

If you have a drink each morning, she will find out the recipe and when you are away try to perfect her drink making skills. Even managing to surprise you one morning, having the drink made and sitting on the counter for you.

ℍ𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕖 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟: Cybergoth

Hobie is probably the most on board with your fashion, whether it's something you wear daily or only on occasions.

If you give him the opportunity he will add his own touches to your outfits, even your dread falls if you say yes.

Whether or not you say so he will 'borrow' any accessories he likes, flaunting them to *anyone who will look. *This includes everyone.* A good chunk of your fashion is similar to his, so every once in a while he will just… switch them.

If you go to any raves or anything similar he will join you if possible. (Always sneaking you both in.)

He will tease you when you ask him to wear something, but do it long enough and he will cave. Anything you want he will wear it, accessories to full outfits. (Not dread falls, he values his hair.)

If you ever want some new accessories or even an outfit he is your man. He will openly 'buy' (Steal) anything for you. Does it without you somehow knowing, realizing when they are sitting on your desk, along with a note from him.

Whether or not you wear makeup he will help you, but if you do? He is there for every step you do, wanting to get it right so he can help in the future. And when he does? You aren’t doing anything anymore, he is in charge of doing it every day now.

Because he is Spider-Punk and part of the spider society he is often busy doing things away from you. This means he has found other ways to bring you with him, in jewellry (that he stole from you.) or even pictures tucked into pockets. Will show them off to anyone nearby (main targets are Pavitr, Gwen or Miles.)

100% Has and will continue to make songs dedicated to you. Whether they are obvious or not he will know, and most of the time you do too. They can vary from yourself, your looks and fashion to him confessing his undying love for you. (Of course he'll make it so confusing so no one will ever realize.)

Soon enough Hobie will fall in love with your fashion style, and how it makes a statement easily. And what better way to make a statement is with bright and surprisingly comfortable clothing. Often enough you will catch him with matching pieces of clothing, he says they’re comfortable and that’s the only reason but you know, he wants to match.

#atsv x reader #mile morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #hobie x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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drabblesandimagines · 7 months

Note

400 requests! joshuaxreader when reader suddenly kisses him. please ❤️

Thanks for taking part in my 400 Followers Event, anon! Hope you enjoy x Distraction Joshua Rosfield x fem reader, just good ol' fluff 658 words

Joshua thinks better when he thinks aloud, and even more so when he has an audience.

You’re sat together on a bench at the top of the Hideaway at sunset – you’ve positioned yourself with crossed legs, facing inwards. He’s mulling away, skipping back and forth between his own journal of writings and the annals of Moss the Chronicler that lie on the bench between the two of you, finding links and identifying areas where he wishes to explore more.

You’re mesmerized by his voice, how adorable you find it when his tone inflects in excitement when he pieces another part of the puzzle together. You wish you could take in what he was saying - Founder forbid if he asked you to repeat anything back! His face, usually pale of late, is full of colour this evening, the setting sun basking him in a golden glow and you are absolutely smitten.

“Mayhaps on Ash I’ll be able to see the mural in full at last – the Circle of Malius still is prominent over there after all, and just like Phoenix Gate I’m hoping an Apodytery will still stand…”

The mention of Ash makes your stomach squirm as Joshua continues his chain of thought aloud. Ash is Odin’s territory, where the last Mothercrystal resides too. They plan to set sail as soon as the Enterprise is restored and that day grows ever closer – Mid regularly sending reports. Worry gnaws at your chest, too close to your heart – both Joshua and Clive had not come out well against Barnabas Tharmr in the past.

“..I was thinking, instead of waiting for repairs to finish, I could prime and just fly over to Ash.”

“Joshua!” You gasp, looking at him in alarm. “You can’t-“

He’s grinning, boyishly. “I do jest, my lady. I could see I’d lost you to your own thoughts.” The Phoenix leans forward. “Forgive me. After all, you are kind to entertain me so as I muse, especially when I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.”

“Not at all.” You reply, softly. “I could listen to you for hours.”

“You shouldn’t tell me that – there is many a topic I can prove to be quite passionate about that others may find too dry. In fact, Moss the Chronicler commented that-”

He is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and you want him to be yours.

You lean forward then – you’re not sure why, a combination of the fear of what is to come, the way his eyes sparkle in the fading sunlight, the handsome smile on his face as he talks – and you cup his face in your hands. Without any further thought, you press your lips onto his.

There’s a horrible second when he doesn’t reciprocate and you know you’ve now crossed a line that you will never be able to come back from. You go to pull back, thinking already of how fast you might be able to descend the stairs, retreat to your bunk, but then his arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and he is kissing you back - hungrily.

You move your hands then, resting one at the back of his head, fingers entangling in his blonde locks and the other runs up and down in his spine. He nibbles at your bottom lip before his tongue slips in, trying to explore every corner of your mouth and you don’t think it is possible, but you melt even more into his arms.

Eventually, inevitably, the two of you break for air, leaning your forehead upon his as you both try and catch your breath, sweet smiles on your faces.

“That is quite an effective way of silencing me.” He compliments in a teasing tone.

“Forgive me for ruining your train of thought.”

He captures your chin then, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Actually, I would bid you to do that far more often, sweet one.”

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flowercrowngods · 2 months

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okay due to popular demand (3 people mwah!), here's all i have on prisoners ranger!steve, bard!eddie, and the royal entourage accompanying the diplomatic mission that went so horribly wrong

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is.

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery.

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain.

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now.

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now.

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.”

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much?

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?”

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much.

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to do is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful.

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off.

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter.

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.”

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.”

“Not with my friends, no.”

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.”

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders.

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

———

Steve wakes to something cold touching his forehead, moving to his temple where suddenly a jarring pain wrecks his body and he can’t quite suppress the flinch.

“Forgive me,” comes a quiet voice from above and Steve opens his eyes to the darkness of a cell, only faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a torch somewhere and the redness of the setting sun. “But I am glad to see you awake.”

The voice belongs to Eddie, who is looking down at him, a piece of cloth in his hand. Gently, he presses it to Steve’s forehead again and the cool sensation comes back, gentler this time. It takes a moment for Steve’s tired and frayed mind to catch up with reality, but when it does, he realises that the bard is washing away the dried blood and cleaning his wounds.

What an odd picture they must make.

“Tell me,” he says before he has time to consider his words. “Is it normal for a bard of Northlands to take care of wounded Rangers?”

“No,” Eddie says and there’s something to his voice Steve can’t quite identify. He’s not sure he likes it, not sure what it does to his insides. “There are never any Rangers there.”

Even through the dim light, Steve can see the mirth in his eyes and it makes him laugh – if only briefly, for his body is quick to remind him that any sort of movement is a bad, terrible, truly horrid idea. He just barely manages to suppress a groan, but nothing could get past the bard’s eyes, and his hand moves from Steve’s forehead to his cheek almost immediately.

“Careful, my friend. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Stop making me laugh, then. That would make it all so much easier.” There’s no heat behind his words and he doesn’t even try not to lean into the touch.

Eddie hums but stays quiet otherwise and keeps wiping Steve’s face clean, watching his every reaction. A frown slowly forms between those brows and Steve wonders what that is for. Did something happen while he was out of it? Time passes differently in the desert, yes, the sun and moon following different paths, but he can’t have been unconscious for more than three hours. It is barely yet nightfall, their cell colder than before.

Three hours. And Eddie still sits cross-legged with Steve’s head on his thigh.

Guilt and embarrassment shoot through him and he wants to move, wants to get up and release the bard from his demeaning task of playing nurse to a wounded Ranger, but his ribs protest and his head pulses with white-hot pain before it sends his world spinning again and Steve sags back into the warmth of Theodore.

“I must be painting the most pathetic picture of her Majesty’s Rangers. I swear, most of us are better than this.”

It comes out light hearted as always, despite the pain it leaves inside his chest to be presenting himself like this. Representing all Rangers to the kingdoms of the South with his weakness. All that on top of losing Will. Again.

He closes his eyes against the pity he is bound to see in Eddie’s eyes.

“You paint a picture of bravery such as I scarcely saw it before. Never in my life did I see a man move so slowly, so unseen unless as I was looking right at you. You are excellent with the sword and the bow, and even the weapons of the desert folk are natural to you. I can imagine the pain and suffering you have seen, some of which you must have caused in the name of justice, yet you carry inside yourself a light-heartedness that is refreshing to say the least.”

Steve swallows, has never been good at taking compliments, and luckily hasn’t been in the position to accept them in quite a while.

“Light-hearted?” he rasps. “You can’t be talking about the same Rangers I know, surely.”

“I was talking about you, Steven,” Eddie admits quietly, and his voice is so tender when he says his name that it makes Steve’s breath hitch.

“Oh,” he says intelligently. Swallows. “Then the head injury must be severe.”

“Admirable of you to hide a concussion for so many days. I think healers of all kingdoms would have a lot of questions for you if they knew.”

Steve huffs and smiles through the pain of his undoubtedly broken ribs protesting. “My apologies, Eddie. Queen Joyce of the West and Sir James himself would both have my head if I taught you our concussion-hiding ways.”

“A pity,” Eddie says and there’s that smile in his voice again that doesn’t show on his lips, at least in this light. Steve doesn’t care, though, as he smiles up at him.

This moment in time belongs to the both of them as Steve finds he can’t quite look away, and it’s not the pain that keeps him.

Eddie opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again. The frown reappears between his brows and Steve wants to reach out and smoothen the creased skin above his nose. If only moving his arm didn’t require such strength that keeps evading him, the night weighing heavy on his limbs.

After another minute, Eddie does find his words, though they are quiet this time. “I worried.”

“About what?” Steve asks when he doesn’t continue.

Eddie resumes his endeavour of washing the crusted blood from his hair and face, the sensation soothing his skin but not his nerves. Steve does reach up this time to still his hand, and the bard meets his eyes again.

“That you wouldn’t wake up.” It comes out small, void of that usual easy confidence.

Steve swallows every comment on the tip of his tongue about how the rest of their group could easily keep Eddie entertained without any concussions bothering them. It’s not often that he has control over his tongue, but in the face of such open worry and vulnerability, his heart aches and he wants to say the right thing.

“I’m awake, Theodore Munson. It takes far more to put me out for good.”

It’s a lie, he knows. It would not have taken that much more, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“Don’t let them hear that, they will take that as a challenge.”

Steve only gives a non-committal hum and closes his eyes again. If he didn’t, the darkness of the cell and the kindness in Eddie’s eyes would have made him say stupid things like, Let them, if that means everyone else is safe. That would surely dim the light in those black eyes and very likely make Jim throw a boot at him. And Steve really doesn’t want to have to deal with either of those things.

Eddie resumes his task of gently cleaning him, and Steve gets the feeling that the bard must be doing it for himself just as much as for him. It’s something to keep himself occupied, and the way he talks betrays his intentions in turn of keeping Steve awake and occupied, too.

A gesture that is almost too kind to bear, as dusk turns into night and the silver light of the full moon illuminates their cell.

———

Jim lies just a few feet beside them, and now that his eyes have had the chance to adjust to the darkness properly, the concussion already weaker than it was earlier, Steve can see that his eyes are open. Or, one eye is; the other is swollen too badly. Another wave of guilt and shame clouds his senses for a moment and he has the urge to ask forgiveness. He feels responsible, even though he knows Jim would hit him over the head if Steve so much as mentioned that.

His eyes cut back to Eddie above him when a yawn interrupts the bard’s steady movements with the cloth that is barely wet anymore.

“You never got any rest, did you?” he asks – stupidly, because the moment the words leave his lips Steve remembers the very reason for Eddie’s wakefulness. He winces before the other man even gets the chance to answer. “Right, my fault. Forgive me.”

If the ground beneath him could open now, he would have a banquet in its honour. With a groan, he moves to sit up and free Eddie of his dead weight, the motion pulling on his cuts and bruises, irritating his broken and burning ribs in a way so sudden it steals his breath for a second. Steve is well acquainted with pain, but the all-encompassing nature of it right now is thoroughly unwelcome.

Hands come up to steady him, guiding him to sit up and lean against the stone wall, his own shoulder coming to rest against Eddie’s, who only slowly lets go of him.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s hardly a question of fault,” Eddie says in that calm, soothing way of his that keeps making Steve want to reach out and hold on. Hold him. “And it was no hardship to stay and… be gentle.”

Something in the back of his mind wants to tell him something but it’s too foggy to grasp.

“Gentle,” he says, inquiring, as though saying the word out loud would tell him its meaning.

“Even Rangers of the Kingdom deserve gentle hands and smiles. Even if they are too badly beaten and concussed to recall their request.”

Eddie’s words aren’t making sense, but what they do is make his heart beat faster for some reason other than shame and embarrassment. He presses his lips together and tries to find his voice.

When he finds it again, it’s barely more than a whisper hidden in the moonlight. “Allow me to return the favour, then. Rest, Eddie. Find some sleep while I ensure it is safe.”

Something shifts in those black eyes and Steve wants to chase it. Eddie cast in silver light of the moon is different than the golden figure of the past days. Less imposing and more… fragile. Gone is the teasing, replaced with something more… More. It suits him, the light of the moon, as much as it makes Steve’s heart and mind race.

“Will you smile at me still?” Eddie asks at last, and even the darkness cannot veil the quiver in his voice.

Steve is reminded of something he must have dreamed of earlier, but he cannot focus on that, not with the way the moonlight catches in those dark curls that have managed to slip out of the band keeping his hair bound at the back of his skull. Not with the way it illuminates the twitch of his lip or the impossible way he is looking at Steve still.

“Always,” he says before he can even think about it. Always, he thinks. However long that may yet be.

Another smile twitches and tugs at the bard’s lips, lingering in its nature as he closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind them. It can’t be comfortable, and Steve has half a mind to offer his own lap, but there is something about seeing Eddie so calm. He doesn’t dare to interrupt him.

He waits until Eddie’s breathing has evened out before he gives in to the urge to brush the treacherous curl behind his ear. It leaves his fingertips with a tingling sensation that makes him want to do it again, so he does. Sitting there, trying to breathe through his broken ribs and his fluttering heart, Steve doesn’t dare to do it a third time, as much as he yearns for it.

He rests his own head against the wall, too, and watches the bard, because watching him is easier than letting his gaze wander and be reminded of the situation they’re all in.

The moonlight guides his gaze towards Eddie even as he tries to look away, and Steve watches as it caresses the bard’s features in such a way as though that is what it has been sent here to do.

It makes Steve smile even as the ache in his chest grows stronger. He is starting to realise what this is, and he’s too weak to fight it. Not in this prison cell, not in this foreign country where the sun is out to kill you and the moon will watch you shiver helplessly.

How could he fight the moonlight and its tender caress, the world tinged in silver as he lets it work its magic on him? Only a fool would be able to resist.

“Steve.”

He just barely manages not to flinch as Jim’s rasping voice rips him away from his musing – no, his yearning. Turning his head, he finds his eyes in the dark, though he can’t make out any question or command in them. Has Jim caught him? Does his old mentor know his thoughts regarding the bard, has he seen the twitch in Steve’s fingers as he refused to let them reach out and touch?

Jim’s silence is as good a command as any, and summoning all his might not to let his face betray the pain shooting through his body, Steve gets up with a suppressed groan and walks over to his old mentor.

As slowly as possible without giving away the pain that feels like his ribcage is being both torn apart and pressed together, he sits down beside Jim, guiltily thanking the swollen eye and the darkness, for he seems none the wiser to Steve’s injury.

“Don’t do that again.”

Steve freezes, his thoughts tumbling over themselves trying to figure out what exactly Jim refers to — the guilt still warring inside him insists that there are many things he should not have done.

“What do you mean?” he asks, feeling like he is but a green student again, getting berated by his mentor after he did something wrong.

“Take a beating for me. I understand why you would do it for the others, but—”

“Jim,” he tries to interrupt him with a gentle sigh, but the old man won’t have it.

“No, Steve. They hate me more than you, we don’t need you riling them up and making things worse for yourself.”

“I will not let them break your arms and ribs, James. I can take it, I’m—”

“If you say you’re younger, Steven, I’m going to throw you out of the window..”

An innocent grin spreads his lips and he inclines his head, meeting Jim’s good eye. “But I am.”

He sees the hand coming, shooting out from below, but his range of motion and reflexes are still heavily impacted by his injuries that he can’t manage to get out of Jim’s reach in time. Before he knows it, Steve loses his balance and falls flat on his back without any grace but with all the more agonising pain.

Nobody would have been able to hide broken ribs and a nearly split skull like this, but Steve still mentally kicks himself as the wheezing groan of pain leaves his lips.

All traces of mirth leave Jim’s expression and everything turns into worry as he, too, sits up with a groan to check over his former apprentice.

“By the Gods, Steve, are you okay?”

Another groan that is supposed to be somewhere between “Just peachy” and “Fuck off”, but even that sound is pathetic with the way the air has been pushed out of his lungs at the impact. All he manages is a whimper, and he doesn’t try to open his lips for more than that.

He doesn’t even attempt to sit up this time, can only try to catch his breath and breathe through the agony with more wheezing, rattling whimpers. Hands hover over him in the dark, but he shakes his head rapidly, scared that Jim would try to touch and feel the injury, only to find a broken rib or two. Or five, at this point.

His lungs don’t work right and he can’t quite catch his breath. It is only experience that tells him this is normal, this will pass, he will breathe right again. Hopefully.

“For God’s sake, why would you hide an injury like that, Steve? Why would you… You idiot!”

There is movement around him in the cell, the others waking up from Jim’s anger and worry and guilt, but Steve keeps his eyes closed lest the tears fall.

“Breathe,” Jim tells him, and Steve finds that to be a wonderful idea, actually, so he tries. And he tries again. “Yes, good. Breathe, Steve. It’s all going to be fine, you’ll get through this.”

“Have to,” he presses, barely any sound to his wheezing. “So you can throw me out of the window.”

“Fucking moron,” Jim mutters, though Steve can hear the emotion in these two words. It makes him smile despite the situation.

“S–sorry,” he wheezes again, and trusts that Jim understands that he means more than his sarcastic retorts or the hiding of the wounds. Sorry for losing Will again. Sorry for not saving Elanor in time. Sorry for failing the mission. Sorry for being weaker than you need me to be. Sorry for—

“It’s alright, Steve,” Jim promises and there are fingers in his hair again, wetness running down his cheek. Did the fall open his head injury again? The situation must truly be dire if Jim is being outright gentle and worried. “Just don’t do it again. Let me take them next time.”

He wheezes again, but won’t make that promise. If their captors come back, he knows he won’t sit and watch them hurt his friends, won’t sit and watch them treat Jim the same way they treated him on the journey here.

It takes a moment for the world to right itself again and for the cell to become quiet, but somehow Steve manages to get his breathing under control and the pain subsides from agonising to miserable, like before. He rolls his head and looks at Jim through a blurriness in his eyes that he has to blink away.

“You think we’ll make it out of this alive?”

Maybe it’s the pain clouding his mind, maybe it’s the darkness that has always made it easier to ask such questions, but Steve finds the words falling from his lips easier than they should have.

Jim’s expression that just a moment ago has been filled with worry and anger sobers now, and Steve doesn’t quite like what he sees.

“Will is still out there,” he says, evading the question and answering it in the same moment.

“Yeah. He is,” Steve says, not sure if he believes it or not. Not sure if it changes anything. “You’re right.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the moonlight catching Jim’s eyes in a way that highlights the emotions in them. The desperate hope that Will is out there, alive, and reunited with his sister — they have their ways of finding each other against all odds. Always have. Steve likes to believe that they won’t stop now, that a desert can’t keep them apart. That they found friendly faces who won’t betray them, and bring them home.

Bring them home even when Steve and Jim can’t follow them. And Maxine. Princess Elanor would turn the desert into an ocean before she left Maxine to die. But down in their cell, the ocean would leave them to drown all the same.

Jim has hope, though, and Steve decides to follow his mentor again. Just for tonight, when all he feels is pain, when his head is being split open, his chest crushed and bursting, his limbs bloodied and bruised. Just for tonight, he will allow himself not to think, not to worry, and to trust Jim blindly like he did all those years ago.

“Sleep, Steve,” Jim says then, and only now does Steve realise how tired he is, his eyes closed long ago.

He spends a brief moment thinking about Eddie and the promise he made the bard to be there when he wakes up. It’s silly, because he’s merely a few feet away, but it still hurts to have abandoned him to lie there by himself while everyone else has company. When he never moved while Steve himself was asleep.

“You should sleep, too, Ranger.” A sudden wave of warmth washes over him when he hears that voice with its foreign inflections. “You both need your rest, I can stay awake for some time to keep watch and wake you up at the first sign of danger.”

“Eddie, I really don’t mind—“

“I insist, Ranger James. You two have taken the most of their hatred and displays of power, it’s the least I can do.”

Jim seems to hesitate for a moment, but Steve doesn’t open his eyes to look. His lids have become far too heavy, even heavier still when a certain hand is back in his hair to comb through it in even movements, mindful of his wounds. He doesn’t fight the secret smile this time.

“Well, if you insist, bard,” Jim finally concedes, never one to really pass up an opportunity for sleep. “Good night to you, then.”

“Goodnight, my friend,” Eddie says in that calm, kind manner of his that is still new to them, and Steve feels as though he breathes easier for it. “And you, Steven,” he lowers his voice, appearing closer now, “truly are a fool.”

“Oh?” he says, wishing that it wouldn’t hurt to laugh or even just to huff. “What happened to brave, kind-hearted, and whatever else you said earlier?”

“You can have those back when you stop lying about being injured.”

“Keep them then,” he says, and it’s meant in jest, but that doesn’t translate well when you barely have enough strength left for a voice, he finds.

“Sleep,” Eddie repeats, gentler this time, though he sighs long and hard after. “You impossible man.”

It makes Steve smile again, even as an impenetrable darkness wraps around him.

He’s sure that the hum and the whispered, “I see you’re keeping your promise still,” are figments of his imagination, his tired mind playing tricks on him. But it’s a dream he likes to sink into, filled with moonlit skin, gentle hands, and kind words.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) and also @ashipwreckcoast and @universal-gay and @marismorar bc you asked me to post the thing (and also b!)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #this isn't really anything but also it's everything to me rn like it's literally what keeps me sane i go about my day and think of them #and all the tenderness and angst in that prison cell #this is a ranger's apprentice inspired au if you will but nobody knows what that is in my experience lmaoo #dio words #sorry tag list gang this aint really a thing you don't have to look at this i'm really just posting this for three (3) people who asked

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