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#like I wish I can meet them just to tell them the effect they had on me and my life
lestelledreams · 2 days
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have been having The Worst writers block known to mankind since like. january lol. but !! i got into a vibe this morning and wrote some figure skating au nonsense so here's a very rough and unedited 800ish words of rosquez first meeting in that au :)
The tryouts are in Italy, in a rink just outside Milano. It’s not one Mar’s been to before, not one that’s hosted Grand Prixs, or any competition with international participation really. It’s – quiet. Private and out of the way. A nice change from the bustling environment she’s used to training in back home, where ice time needs to be shared with the rest of the club’s elite skaters. Here it seems Valentino Rossi decides when and for how long he gets the ice and everyone else adapts. Pros of being a five-time world champion, Mar supposes.
If everything goes to plan today that’ll be her new normal. No more dragging a sleepy and protesting Pol to the rink an hour before sunrise in the pursuit of twenty, maybe thirty minutes of solo time with their coach.
And it will – she’ll make sure of it. After all, Mar Márquez isn’t one to let an opportunity like this slip through her fingers.
She does feel a little bad for ditching Pol so suddenly, for texting him ‘i’m doing tryouts with rossi’ not even a day after the news of him splitting with his partner broke. It was blunt and harsh, and she never got an answer, the little read nestled under her words taunting her every time she opens their conversation.
But standing here, in Italy, ten minutes left until she’ll get to skate with a living legend, her old partner is the last thing on Mar’s mind. And besides, Pol wasn’t keeping up with her for much longer either. They both knew that, could sense the inevitable coming one way or another, so surely Pol understands her decision. Mar’s parents don’t, but they can’t say anything about it. She’s 18 now, and very much capable of making her own career choices without her mother fretting about something so trivial as Rossi’s age.
The man in question is currently on the ice with another hopeful girl, the sounds of their blades cutting deep into the blank surface filling the air. Mar laces her skates and observes. They’re running through a step sequence - brackets, choctaws, rockers, edge change - staying close together throughout the turns and steps. Rossi is flawless and the girl is good. Mar knows she’s better.
And then they’re off the ice and in front of her, Rossi thanking the previous skater for coming before turning his attention on Mar.
“You’re much taller than I thought you’d be,” she blurts out. Fuck, that isn’t what she wanted to say.
“Well, having skates on does tend to have that effect,” Rossi says and laughs. He’s laughing at her. God, she probably looks like a child to him.
“Sorry, no, I, that wasn’t – I’m Mar,” is what she finally settles on. “And you’re Valentino Rossi. Obviously.” Mar fiddles with the strings on her hoodie, wishes she had a gum or something to chew on. But she doesn’t look away, too stubborn to avoid Rossi’s eyes. He can stare all that he wants. Mar has a very unnerving stare of her own that she can pull out if needs be.
“I am. Obviously. And we should probably get on the ice now,” Rossi gestures towards the older woman out there, using his entire arms as he speaks. “I can see my coach is getting annoyed at us loitering.” He chuckles but Mar thinks it’s serious beneath the careless exterior. She doublechecks that her skates are tied tightly enough, and then takes the first steps of a new chapter in her life.
It’s a nearly immediate connection between them when they glide over the ice together in hold – a mutual understanding of where the other is going to place their feet, of when to push and when to pull, solely based on instinct. The coach, whose name Mar missed in the whirlwind of Rossi whispering “Is this okay?” when placing his hands on her waist, tells them what to do and they just. Do it. It’s that easy. They try a simple lift and Mar feels more secure two meter above the ground in Rossi’s hands than she ever felt skating next to Pol, and isn’t that funny?
Her and Pol were good; they did win a gold at Junior Worlds after all, and that’s not something anyone can just go out there and do. But her and Valentino – they could become great. She's never been more sure of anything in her life.
The session ends after an hour and Mar has almost forgotten that this is a tryout. With the way Valentino is reluctant to let her hand go as they sit down on the bench to take their skates off, she imagines he feels something similar.
Mar leaves the rink outside Milano with a phone number in her hand and a promise that she’ll hear back from them shortly. Behind her she hears Valentino tell his coach to cancel the rest of the tryouts.
She’s still smiling when she boards the flight back to Barcelona.
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lixie-phoria · 5 months
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ੈ✩‧ ➛ lee know thinks he's subtle as he pines over you
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pairing : lee know x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.7k words
summary : a good way to confess to someone? tell them about it! but does lee know ever do anything conventionally? of course not. so here he was, trying to see you anytime he gets, and what better excuse than saying his cats miss you? you would never find he was the one missing you, right?
chan's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | felix's ver. | changbin's version | han's ver.
"hey, the cats miss you. you mind if i bring them over?"
lee know's tone is soft as he speaks over the phone with you, but his cold warning gaze settled upon hyunjin and changbin, who were trying their best to hold in their laughter, told a different story.
it does help, however, when he hears you eagerly agree and immediately relaxes, promising to be there soon. but of course he should've been more careful about where he was making the call because he certainly would not have picked a place where any of the other 7 could hear him. they would never let him rest in peace.
"so."
changbin valued his life slightly lesser than hyunjin did, so the first remark came from him.
"the cats miss y/n that much, huh?" hyunjin picked up from where changbin left.
"both of you, drop it."
"no no, do you plan on telling y/n that the cats have been asleep for the past two hours?"
lee know wished there was a box of tissues somewhere close by so he could shove it right down the younger members throats because he could not stand being teased over his crush on you anymore.
"the cats do miss y/n. that's why they were so irritable when they went to sleep."
"so that had nothing to do with you forgetting to give them water because you'd been talking to y/n for an hour?"
lee know was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. he could deny all he wanted, but even he was aware that he really wasn't subtle about the not-so-small crush he harbored for you. his members knew about it, your members knew about it. heck, even his manager could see his feelings. it was that obvious. lee know could only hope you hadn't caught on because he'd be damned if you realized his way of spending time with you was making excuses that his cats wanted to see you.
lee know, the supposedly cool and nonchalant lee know his fans are so used to seeing on camera, was reduced to a nervous blushing mess whenever you were involved. how on earth was he supposed to confess to you when he could barely ask you to hang out with him?
"wear that green hoodie y/n really likes when you go." hyunjin adds, way too invested in whatever was unfolding.
"why does that matter?"
"because it gives them an excuse to compliment you, obviously."
the older boy huffed, hoping the other two could not see the red creeping up the tips of his years.
"and make sure to not mention that the cats were too busy sleeping to miss them."
"yah! i'm not stupid, i know."
"maybe mention that you were the one missing them."
changbin and hyunjin cackled as lee know's eye twitched in annoyance. they really were testing his patience today.
"just because the air fryer isn't in this room doesn't mean you're both safe."
this line was usually effective under normal circumstances. but not today.
"hyung, do you really thing you can threaten us? when you're the one in the vulnerable position?"
"i am not."
"oh so i can text y/n about all the times you've lied just to meet them?"
"he has an entire list, by the way," changbin manages in between his laughter.
"you're both jobless."
"says the one who's about to make a 30 minutes drive just so he can see his crush."
the two dissolved into another fit of laughter as the older member stormed out of the room and to where his three cats were resting in a peaceful slumber.
he felt guilty shaking them awake, but it would be worth it, right? he would get to meet you and you hopefully wouldn't even realize that they were just an excuse for him to see you, to hear your voice, to make you smile, to stare into your eyes just a little bit longer. hopefully you wouldn't catch on despite him using this very same excuse for what seemed like the thousandth time.
minho couldn't believe himself as he reluctantly put on the green hoodie hyunjin had advised him to wear.
he really wished the two would not see him in it. he would never make it out of the dorms if they found out he had listened to them. it was a pain, really, but for you lee know would do anything.
©lixie-phoria, 2023
tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak2 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)
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angelltheninth · 2 months
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Blade's Edge
Pairing: Blade x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, teasing, enemies to enemies who flirt, kissing, grinding, aphrodisiacs, very suggestive, arrested!Blade
Word count: 0.6k
A/N: This was commissioned! Short and kind of sweet but also hella suggestive cause its Blade.
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The sound of rustling handcuffs drew you to his cell. He sat in darkness, unbothered by you glaring at him. The only light was his eyes shining at you. "Captain. To what do I owe this immense pleasure?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, nodding at the other guards to leave. You knew he wouldn't tell you anything with them around, maybe even alone. Blade was a stubborn man and if he allowed himself to get captured by your squad then he must want something. Often something involving you.
Blade smirked at you as you stepped into his cell, as you approached him and tilted his chin with your fingers. "You look smug for someone in handcuffs." You kept your eyes on him, you knew he might try to get out but not before he got whatever it is he's after this time. His goals are all that mattered to him.
"Yes, well, it's not like I hate wearing him. I could go for better accommodations if I'm gonna give you some much needed information. I know you and yours have been running yourselves in circles lately. It was actually quite fun to see at first. Now it's just sad." He mocked you with that cocky smirk of his. With every word you got more and more angry. The worst thing was that Blade had a point.
"And what do you want in return? Surely you're not here out of the goodness of your heart."
"What heart?" Blade chuckled, his voice dripping with a tone that was both sadistic and seductive. Dangerous. "I could do it for... hm what's a good price. Perhaps a small kiss?"
Your hand twitched with the urge to slap him for even suggesting such a thing.
"You can pretend all you wish. I have seen how you look at me when we fight. You were probably looking for an excuse to put me in handcuffs. Have me tied up and at your mercy. From where I'm sitting you could fuck-" You grabbed a handful of his shockingly soft hair and kissed him. If one kiss would give you what you needed then it wasn't a big price to pay.
So why did you sit in his lap. Why did you open your mouth when he licked into it, why did... why did he taste so good. Your eyes widened when you recognized the sweet taste of an aphrodisiac. Fuck.
"Bastard. How are you not effected?" Your head was already getting dizzy, your hips moving in his lap, looking for friction and release.
"Call it natural immunity. I can't exactly have you follow me when I get out of here now can I? I'm only a messenger but that doesn't mean I won't have with you, Captain." Blade pushed upwards, your moans muffled by his lips, his taste and scent making you push forward, to pull at his uniform. You didn't realize he was shifting with his hands you only registered the hard feeling of the chair against your back and his hips pushing your legs apart, "If anyone were to see this what would they think? Their Captain spreading her legs for me? And I haven't even taken your clothes off yet."
At this rate he wouldn't have to take your clothes off.
Blade mumbled something in your ear. Perhaps the information he promised? Or did he call you names? Maybe something about Kafka? You didn't know. Your name was swimming in a sea of pleasure, your legs locking tight around him before relaxing.
"Thank you very much for your time Captain. I look forward to our next meeting." His lips ghosted against yours one last time before your vision turned black, the last thing you saw being his back, and the next thing being the worried and confused faces of your team.
"That motherfucker." You could practically hear him laughing in your ear. Shit. You were still sensitive if even that managed to make you clench your legs.
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rabbitblackx · 7 months
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Hello again, can i request an Bubba Sawyer x Shy reader: When Bubba introduce them to his family for the first time, at first, the reader was nervous that his family might disprove of them since their cannibals but was proved wrong when they interact with his family? (Side note: Bubba and the reader were together for a long time and he come up with the idea of introducing them to his family since he's been telling his family all about them.)
Hope that your having a great month rabbit 😊
Hope u don’t mind it’s just a silly little headcanon thing!🫠💞 also hope ur having a spectacular day!!😸💖
Shy!Reader meets Bubba’s family
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You had been in a relationship with Bubba for quite a while now. You met on accident one night, while him and Chop-Top were ‘grocery shopping’. Instead of killing you, Bubba grew a fondness for your shy smile and pretty face. He didn’t let Chop-Top see you, effectively hiding you away while they wasted anybody else nearby
To Bubba’s surprise, him being a cannibal killer wasn’t a dealbreaker. You still actually really liked him. You just had a hard time expressing it due to your shyness and fear
This strange, masked man continued to visit you almost every night, clearly infatuated with you. There were times where you didn’t utter a single word. You just sat with Bubba in your living room, silently admiring each other. Though you didn’t speak, your big shy eyes said a thousand words
It was now the day where you were gonna finally meet Bubba’s family. You were dreading this for the longest time. You stood outside this abandoned theme park with Leatherface, visibly shaking
“Maybe we should just turn back. They’re not gonna like me.” You squeaked
Your boyfriend made a grunt of disagreement, placing a large paw on your shoulder. You glanced down at it, before shyly meeting his gaze
“I’m scared, Bubba.” You uttered
Bubba attempted to comfort you with numerous pets and a small cuddle. He wished he could tell you how keen his brothers actually were to meet you. He had told them all about you
Bubba led you down into the quarters of the theme park in which they lived. The large space was littered with bright lights, skeletons and dust. It wasn’t that bad…
As soon as Chop-Top Sawyer popped up to greet you, you were immediately hiding behind Bubba. You squeaked in fear and pressed flush against his back. Chop-Top couldn’t take a hint, moving around his brother to get a look at you
“This them, Bubba? This yer little friend?” He crooned
Bubba nodded his head, carefully pulling you out from behind him by your waist and setting you next to him. Chop-Top’s wide blue eyes and insane grin made you hug your boyfriend’s arm tight
“Hi…” you peeped shyly
Chop-Top was loud and boisterous as ever, crudely complimenting you on how good looking you were. Of course, you had no idea how to respond, face red and pressing against Bubba’s arm. As different as you were to this man, he wasn’t the one you were afraid of the most. It was their oldest brother, Drayton, that you were anxious to impress
Drayton emerged from the kitchen with a surprised look on his face. He couldn’t believe that you were here. In fact, he couldn’t believe that you were actually real. For all he knew, Bubba was lying about this imaginary partner of his for the past few months
Drayton felt threatened by you at first, and protective of his baby brother. But once he found how shy and quiet you were, he let his guard down. He was actually quite glad Bubba found you instead of some hussy or whore
You stayed for dinner, where you met grandpa. You liked him. Mostly because he didn’t talk to you but that was beside the point. You barely said anything at all really, making Drayton eye you suspiciously. He liked quiet people. So were you just too good to be true?
After dinner, you stayed back to spend some alone time with Bubba. But just before you were to leave for the night, you popped into the kitchen. It took a lot of courage, but you offered to help Drayton with the dishes. He looked beyond shocked, like he couldn’t believe such kind words came out of your mouth
Bubba watched from afar as you and his brother silently washed dishes together. Just as you thought it was going to get awkward, Drayton turned to you and said something that warmed your faint heart
“I’m glad Bubba brought you home.”
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lunargrapejuice · 7 months
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you always had this effect on diluc, melting away his worries and woes with just your touch. he feels the weight of the day's stresses evaporate off of his shoulders at the same moment your head comes to rest on his chest, another kind of weight that was comforting rather than crushing. a reminder of love and light and all that was good in his life, so unlike the pressure of the darkness that he once thought would have a hold on him forever. 
even though you wouldn't take credit for it, you had released him from that hold. at the time he hadn’t realized that such gentle hands could forge the pieces of his heart back together, never to be the same as it once was but still strong and beating, a gift for you and you alone. and he feels it stall at the lovely melody of your laugh meeting his ears and the way he can feel it trickle down your body thanks to how close he is holding you. 
he loves to hear about your day. to wind down from his own like this, with you slotted between his legs, the scent of your shampoo in his nose, your fingers tracing hearts and clouds and stars into the fabric of his shirt, over the scars that adorned his body. his arms wrap tightly around you to keep you snug against him as you animatedly tell him about your day while his other hand cards through your hair, down your back, holding your palm over the heart that's flames burn brighter thanks to your love.
“- after seeing eula i came right to the tavern and well you know the rest heh,” you finish the tale of your day, nuzzling deeper into his chest with a hum, your fingers once playing with tendrils of deep red locks now resting still on his chest. “it felt like i saw you even less today than normal though,” you continue, quieter than before, like maybe he wasn’t meant to hear or your passing thoughts had made it past your lips when you hadn’t actually meant for them to. 
“we both had a rather busy day,” he says, voice deep and soothing. the heat against your hip thanks to his large palm resting there begins to build even more when his thumbs swipes back and forth against your skin, slow and steady but intoxicating all the same. 
he can feel you smile against him, even through his button up shirt and wishes the feeling would forever be etched into his skin. “i know,” you interrupt before he can say more, but he never minds when it means he gets to hear your voice. “i wasn’t meaning to complain. i just missed you was all.”
the gentleness of his calloused hand over yours draws you from his broad chest, pale, scar ridden fingers wrapping around your hand. you lift your gaze as he brings it towards his face, his breath hot on your skin only adding onto the way your chest and cheeks burst with warmth watching his pink lips press soft kisses to each of your finger tips.
you aren’t sure you’re even breathing seeing his long lashes flutter, hiding sparkling ruby orbs from your tender awe struck gaze, the heat and tingle of his lips lingering on each of your fingers even long after he's moved onto another, placing kiss after kiss to your fingers.
when his eyes flutter back open, he doesn’t let go of your hand, doesn’t create any distance between you while his lovely eyes look down at you and a faint blush begins to dust his cheeks. it was soft and so adorable on his handsome face and not even the darkening evening could hide it from you.
“i missed you too my darling,” he whispers against your skin, the truth of his words gleaming in his irises that can’t be pulled from your visage. “but we’re together now,” he places another kiss on your hand, every few words pausing to give you another and another.. “and *kiss* i don't intend *kiss* to let you go *kiss* anytime soon.” 
if he could have it his way, you would always remain at his side.
now it is diluc who isn’t sure he is breathing at the feeling of your hand tightening in his and the sight of your tender glistening eyes and lovestruck smile that you try to hide but can’t possibly hope to keep from him when he captures your chin and brings your gaze back to his. it is the embodiment of your light, a testament to everything he holds dear in this world, the reason why he would fight the darkness even if it meant long days away from you from time to time, too often than he would like, but if it meant he got more nights with you like this, if it meant you smiled without worry, he would do anything.
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genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist
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m0chaminx · 3 months
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Mk1 characters with witch!reader | Dialogues
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*•.¸♡Request: no
*•.¸♡Prompts: none
*•.¸♡Warnings: A couple of uses of y/n (I tried to keep them minimal), flirty, threatening, sweet fluff, the whole shebang, I've never written for mk before so go easy on me
*•.¸♡Paring: Various mk1 characters x gn!witch!reader
*•.¸♡Summary: just some fun dialoge of the mk1 charchters and a witch reader
*•.¸♡Words: 1k
*•.¸♡A/N: Merry Christmas y'all!!
Tomas : I faced far worse than an outworld witch.
y/n: You may jest now, but beware, for my spells can turn jesters into ghosts.
Tomas : Forgive me, but I do not understand the threat you pose.
y/n: Dear, sweet Tomas. Underestimate me at your peril. My hexes have a way of adding a bit of spice to the ordinary. Care for a taste?
y/n: Feel flattered Tomas, you have been the only Lin Kuei to pose a challenge.
Tomas : I cannot except your compliment's y/n, I truly can’t see a way I win this fight.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒖𝒂𝒊 𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒈 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Kuai Liang : I wish you no harm, but be prepared to lose.
y/n: I brew potions stronger than your fire, darling. Try not to get scorched by the truth.
y/n: Is it just me, or did the room light up the moment you walked in? 
Kuai Liang : That’s my Kunai, I’ll try not to cut you… too bad.
y/n: Cross my path again, and you'll find out how swiftly my curses take effect.
Kuai Liang : Your threat has been noted, little witch.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒃𝒊-𝒉𝒂𝒏 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Bi-Han : It is foolish to face me, witch.
y/n: Ha! I mastered the art of Ice Manipulation when I was a child. You are the foolish one.
y/n: If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person in the room.
Bi-Han : Mind your tongue.
Bi-Han : I can't believe I need to waste my time killing you.
y/n: Oh please, Bi-Han. I don't need a crystal ball to predict your imminent exit from my life.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒔𝒚𝒛𝒐𝒕𝒉 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Syzoth : So, you cast spells?
y/n: Why cast spells when I can cast smiles? Yours is my favourite enchantment.
y/n: I'd advise you against challenging me. My curses have a way of sticking around longer than you'd like.
Syzoth : Do you stick around as well?
Syzoth : I heard you're a witch. Do you do shows?
y/n: Mock my craft, and you'll wish you had never left that travelling carnival.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Raiden : They say magic is in the little things, sweet y/n.
y/n: Then consider me your personal witch for these enchanting moments, sweet Raiden.
Raiden : I sense sparks between us.
y/n: I thought you had been practising with your amulet.
y/n: Cross my path, and the shadows you'll meet will be darker than any you've ever known.
Raiden : You must wield very dark magic then, witch.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒐 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Kung Lao : I can’t wait to tell everyone I beat you.
y/n: Oh, please, darling. I could turn you into a toad with a flick of my perfectly manicured finger.
y/n: Why fly on a broomstick when I can use that thing you call a hat to soar above your nonsense?
Kung Lao : Hey! I thought it was creative.
y/n: I could make your dreams come true, but first, you'll need some better dreams.
Kung Lao : Lucky for me, I dream of you.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒍𝒊𝒖 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒈 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
y/n: Tell me Lord Liu Kang, what was I like in this other timeline?
Liu Kang : All I can say is you're far more responsible in this one.
Liu Kang : I must commend your skills, witch. You have far exceeded any expectations.
y/n: Did you just compliment me? By the elder gods, what was I like before?
Liu Kang : Are you sure you wish to battle me, young witch?
y/n: I’m sure I want you to remember when I best you.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆 ❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
Johnny Cage : I gotta ask-
y/n: No! I cannot saw you in half. At least with you surviving.
Johnny Cage : Have you ever been on the big screen? People go crazy for witches.
y/n: While I thank you for the opportunity, Cage, my magic is not made for the big screen.
Johnny Cage : Whoa! Witches in outworld are way better looking.
y/n: Did you expect me to have a long green nose and melt in the rain?
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
y/n: I'm not a mind reader, but I'd love to know what's brewing in that mysterious mind of yours.
Kenshi Takahashi : I can assure you, you’re the only one surrounding my mind. 
y/n: Think twice before meddling with my spells. The repercussions can be... unexpected.
Kenshi Takahashi : Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I’m more intrigued than threatened.
Kenshi Takahashi : WIth Sento at my side, I can not lose.
y/n: Challenge me, and you'll learn that in the realm of magic, the victor is seldom the one who laughs last.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Mileena : Consider this your only warning. My wrath is not to be underestimated.
y/n: The feeling is more than mutual, Emperors.
y/n: If I were a witch, I'd cast a spell to make you mine. 
Mileena : Luckily, you don't need magic for that.
Mileena : You over saw my mother for some time. Any words of advice for me?
y/n: A kind word to you Empress: underestimate powers you know nothing of, and you may not live long enough to regret it.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒂 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Kitana : Must you always be so vigilant, my protector?
y/n: Only when it involves safeguarding the most precious gem in the kingdom.
y/n: I put the 'hex' in 'hexcellent.'
Kitana : That’s not as amusing as you think it is.
Kitana : I never expected a witch to be so charming.
y/n: Well, I say chivalry isn't dead, especially when there's a princess to impress.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒍 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Sindel : You must have heard the news of Mileena’s condition by now?
y/n: I shall try everything in power to help. It’s the least I can do for you.
Sindel : I’m sorry for what must happen, but do know I will always value you in my life.
y/n: I have served you for some time Empress, one battle will not sway my loyalty.
y/n: Your daughters have become great fighters, your majesty.
Sindel : They have found a great teacher with you, y/n.
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luveline · 1 year
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james potter x shy!reader where they’re just starting to date and he’s constantly staring at r with a goofy smile on his face and goo goo eyes even if it’s as small and eating or working on smth and r is just blushing and telling him to stop and he’s like ‘never ! you’re gonna just have to get used to my love’ or smth 😭😭
thank you for your request my love ♡ fem!reader
You can feel James' gaze on you, the heavy weight of his eyes an ever present constant in the days since you asked him to be your boyfriend.
If you'd known at the time that James would worship the ground you walk on from that point onward, you might have waited for him to ask you. You definitely would have if you'd known what you know now. 
"Are you joking?" he'd said seriously, jaw slack. And you'd just disintegrated, I mean, you were weak to begin with, all nerves, all what-ifs, and his answer hadn't been the yes or no you'd expected. 
You'd honestly thought that if you didn't ask, somebody might come along and snatch him up first. You wouldn't blame them — he's handsome and smart and a loverboy through and through. But he hadn't been as neutral as he'd appeared.
His explanation had made your year. The happiness of what he'd said still warms you up whenever you think about it. Yes, he'll be your boyfriend, yes, he has a huge crush on you. He'd been furious that you'd managed to ask before him, and sorry for not being clear about how he felt. 
He's making up for it now. 
"Why are you looking at me?" you ask quietly, eyes glued to the jigsaw puzzle in front of you so you won't have to meet his eyes. 
"Because you're lovely. And you're my girlfriend." 
You push a puzzle piece into place with a click and smile. "I wish you'd give it up. Please." 
"No, I don't think so." 
"You're embarrassing me on purpose." 
James slides off of the sofa. You can't see him, and you're surprised when he sits directly behind you, thighs either side of your thighs, arms pressed to your midriff. He pulls you into his chest. 
"I'm not embarrassing you on purpose. I'm telling you the truth, and the truth is making you shy. That's not on me," he argues playfully. 
Your breath catches at his proximity, all your contiguities; his chin hooks over your shoulder and his hands palming at your stomach unabashedly. 
"I wish you'd stop staring at me," you add to your earlier plea. 
"That's not happening, ever. You'll have to get used to it, I'm afraid." 
"No, because- this is torture, I'm like, sweating." 
James' laugh is muffled behind your ear. When he kisses you, it's with the biggest, goofiest smile. You can feel it. 
You sigh and melt backwards into his hold, eyes screwed shut so you won't have to see him, witness him witnessing you. It's one thing that he has such an effect on you and another that he knows it. 
"You do feel warm," he teases. 
Your skin is made of static. You turn a little in his arms and your face sinks down to the curve of his neck. He's warm too, a furnace, really. 
James might not be as a cool and collected as he puts on. 
If you were braver, you'd kiss his neck, give him a taste of his own medicine. 
"You're mean," you mumble. 
"Sometimes. Shouldn't be so lovely, should you?" His arms cross over your front. Every word he says is coloured by his smile. "This is all your fault." 
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theglassofmiddleearth · 5 months
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I'm Always Funny. You're Just Not Smart Enough To Keep Up. (Teaser!)
Max Verstappen X reader
Danny Ricciardo X reader platonic.
Not sure if anyone here is an F1 fan but I've recently gotten into F1 and I've started writing a small fanfiction of Max Verstappen Fake relationship Au! Please tell me if you like this and want the rest of it! Enjoy~
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Max had just broken up with his long time girlfriend Kelly Piquet. 
They had disagreed on their future plans and had decided it would be better to part ways. It was an amicable split and Max still visited Penelope. However, the media wasn’t kind to him, not that it usually was.
Fans were in a roar over the split calling him all sorts of names for the past seven months.
It wasn’t too bad until the sponsors started to look a bit concerned over the state of the media.
Y/N, being a small town girl from Perth Australia, knew Daniel Ricciardo from when she was younger. His sister Michelle would babysit Y/N from time to time and that's how she came to meet the ever enthusiastic personality that was Daniel.
Daniel, alongside Michelle, had been like an older sibling to Y/N. He would always visit her or text her to catch her up on his state of affairs. 
After his ill-fated departure from Mclaren, to which Y/N was still fuming over. He had spent two months back in Australia, lounging around before Y/N and Michelle told him to get back into what he really loved.
Sure enough, Daniel returned to RedBull as a reserve driver alongside his old teammate Max Verstappeh and Sergio “Checo” Perez.
It was at this point Max had been receiving scalding comments and the Public Relations (PR) Manager had decided it would be a good idea for Max to date someone new with good media presence. Someone who the fans were bound to like.
That is exactly where Y/N came in. She had been featured on Daniel's social media before and made small cameo’s on RedBull and Mclaren videos, wishing Danny luck in his races or even supporting him in person.  
~~~~~~
Max walked alongside Y/N at a brisk pace. They were wading through the crowd of press just before the paddock and after the car park. Y/N was slightly uncomfortable with the firm grip that Max had on her hand but refrained from speaking up. He, after all, was paying her salary, so to speak. 
“Smile,” Max grunted out. Nodding at the press and giving half smiles in a seemingly out of character style. 
Y/N, who was already smiling hissed through her teeth.
“The hell you think I'm doin’ mate?” She then turned slightly away to wave at the photographers,
“Morning! Hope you’re all well rested! Make sure to drink enough water too!” She called out to the mass of people. Y/N understood that these people had to make a living and if you were nicer to them, they were bound to return the favour, although that was easier said than done.
Verstappen kept a pleasant expression as he continued to walk past people, signing hats along the way. 
“When can we stop this damn circus act?” He hissed into her ear, his voice sounding like the grind of gravel. 
“Whenever your PR Manager lets us.” She replied, her smile unfaltering as she kept walking beside him.
“This is all a stupid waste of money and time.” He grumbled under his breath. “This whole relationship thing and the sponsors.” Y/N cocked her head knowingly and replied,
"You need those sponsors and so does RedBull. Anyways, don’t give me a hard time because of it, yeah? I’m just doing my job to the best of my ability.” It wasn't as if she didn't want the money, however she also did it to help out Danny. Apparently the situation had made Max a little crabby.
Max sighed, “You have no idea who many different people we have to play happy couple for to satisfy the sponsors.” to which Y/N smirked and retorted with.
“I dunno, maybe the whole world, Mr Formula 1 World Champion?” Max rolled his eyes dismissively, effectively losing his facade.
“Do you know how much the sponsors pay me to keep you around? Don’t smart mouth me man.” He spat out, scowling and crossing his arms defensively. He pointed at the camera’s who had now turned back to you at the suddenly escalating conversation as moths were drawn to light.
Luckily they hadn’t heard the conversation, only seen the wild gestures that Max had thrown out in exasperation. 
Y/N, being the quick thinker she was, gently patted his shoulder and stepped closer to him,
“Calm down mate, they’re looking at us. Let’s just get inside the paddock yeah? Then we can argue when we get to the motor home.” She whispered slowly, hoping to ease his stress.
“Whatever, " Verstappen muttered, his voice ever harsh and monotonous.
He led her by the small of her back past the photographers and past the gates and into the paddock. He kept you firmly by his side while remaining silent. It seemed like he wasn’t going to talk until they were both tucked into a private building. Or as private as it would get.
As they briskly walked by, they passed some children who were staring in awe at Max. Y/N smiled at the children and tugged on his short sleeve gently.
“Max, give them an autograph! Look, they're so cute. This one’s wearing a mini version of your race suit!” She exclaimed, clearly taken by the children who were bubbling with energy.
Max, as a result of Y/N’s excitement, stopped walking and looked over at you with his signature grim expression before seeing the children. His eyes shifted and his expression became light hearted and almost charming.
“Yeah, alright I’ll sign a few things for you guys.” He grinned at the kids that had gathered around began thanking him incredulously in adoration as their favourite Formula one driver signed their shirts and caps.
Max suddenly turned to you with a small smile,
“Here,” he said, handing her a sharpie, “You should sign one too. They’ll like it.” Y/N shook her head, shy from the sudden attention. 
“But I’m not famous like you. They don’t know me.” She turned to the children, sheepish, waiting for them to collectively agree. Yet, to her surprise one of the younger girls reached out to hug her and exclaimed,
“I know you! You’re Max’s girlfriend! My older brother says you’re pretty!” The little girl beamed up at her and pointed at an older male of similar facial structure who was blushing.
Y/N laughed in surprise and smiled brightly at the young girl.
“Hey love! Would you like me to sign your shirt?” She kneeled down to face the girl and all the younger kids. The children that were now surrounding you went crazy, screaming “Yes!” and “Please!”
They held out their belongings for her to sign, clearly overjoyed. She laughed in delight while Max looked on, while chatting to other young fans.
Y/N gave each of them a hug before signing their shirts.
“Oh and here!” She took out a large ziplock bag that was filled to the brim with friendship bracelets she had made for the fans.
“Take these! There’s enough for all of you.” She ruffled the closest childs hair. Max watched in amusement as the children who were absolutely beside themselves, trying on their new bracelets.
“You’re good with the fans,” he said, actually sounding genuine and kind for once. Y/N shook her head, smiling and waving at the children still as they walked away.
“Nah, I just love the kids. I want them to have good memories that build into hope and motivation.” She looked at Max and gave him a small smile.
“That’s very kind of you.” Verstappen replied, sounding surprisingly sincere. They both walked towards the motorhouse and as they reached the entrance Max opened the door for Y/N and signalled for her to enter.
Y/N walked through, thanking him on the way and waved hello while passing all the staff and volunteers of the Red Bull team.
The pair made their way, through all the greetings and then into Max’s room where Max closed the door behind them both and then turned to face Y/N.
“Alright, no more fake smiles or pleasantries. He sighed, “Do you know how long we’re stuck with this whole fake relationship thing?” He asked while plopping down onto his bed, unceremoniously to which Y/N shook her head. She herself was unsure.
“Nope. I was hired for a year-long contract but it wasn’t definitive,” She sighed and sat down on his chair and spun to face him.
“I think it wouldn’t be too bad for us to be friends Max.” She sat forward with her elbows on her knees.
“It’s not like we’re attracted to each other. It would make life easier if we got along, no?" Max stared at her, inquisitive.
“Friends.” He said slowly, almost as if tasting the word before he tilted his head to say,
“Friends don't usually get paid to be with one another.” Max raised his eyebrows.
“But, I guess being friends wouldn't be too bad. It’s not like anything would happen between us anyways.” Y/N nodded and chuckled, 
“I mean, I get paid to pretend to be your girlfriend. We could totally do it from afar y’know?” she shrugged, smiling.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Max said sarcastically. 
“I’ll just yell ‘I love you’ through a megaphone at you from a distance and we’ll keep it going that way.” He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms to which Y/N burst into laughter in sheer surprise. 
“Right! That would get all the fans roaring.” She chuckled loudly, enjoying his dry humour.  She gave him a genuine smile before asking, 
“You’re really funny when you want to be huh?”
Verstappen rolled his eyes with a subtle upturn in lips at your amusement. Y/N had an instinct that he was proud of the reaction he got out of her.
“I’m funny all the time.” He retorted, “You’re just not smart enough to pick up on it.” He said with a cocky smile.
 
~~
AND THATS THE TEASER! please comment if you'd like the rest!? Thank You for reading!
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togrowoldinv · 10 months
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The Beach House
Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader (and some Yelena Belova x Female Reader)
You spend your summers at a beach house with Natasha and Yelena. You’ve always had a crush on the oldest girl, but what happens this summer when Yelena starts crushing on you?
Note: This was fun to write! It’s partially based on the show The Summer I Turned Pretty, so if you’ve seen that you know things get messy and juicy 😂 It’s mostly Nat x reader, but Yelena can’t be ignored here. Enjoy it and let me know what you think!
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist
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For as long as you can remember, you have spent every summer at the beach house with Yelena, Natasha, and their parents.
Your parents had been friends for a long time and growing up together you have always been close with Yelena and Natasha. Especially Yelena.
The blonde girl is close to your age, and you’ve clicked since day one. Running around the beach and baking cookies together before watching movies have been some of your favorite pastimes every summer.
Natasha used to join in, but last summer you noticed a change in her. She is older, and fresh out of college while you and Yelena are only in your second year. Natasha started acting like she was too old for your antics.
But you missed her. During those moments, you kept wishing she was there. And you had to admit to yourself that you liked her. There had been a summer a few years back when you realized that you were attracted to her, but the crush continued to blossom.
And now, this summer, it’s in full effect. You arrive at the beach house with your parents and hop out of the car to find Yelena waiting for you.
“Y/n! You’re here!” she shouts, pulling you into a hug.
“I missed you so much!” you tell her, burying your face in her neck.
Yelena pulls away from the hug and looks you over.
“Damn, you got hot,” she says. A heat rises up your neck. Nat may be the one you have a crush on, but Yelena is far from unattractive. “Alright come on in. My mama wants to see you.”
You follow the girl inside and Melina is waiting by the kitchen counter.
“Ah, dorogoy, come here!” Melina says, her accented voice sounds nostalgic. “My goodness, you grew up even more than last year!”
She pulls you into a hug and you greet her happily. She has always been like a second mother to you.
“It’s good to see you, Melina. Where’s Alexei?”
“Oh, he’s out with Natasha. They are fishing today,” she says.
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s not,” Yelena says. Her head is buried in her phone, and you make a mental note to ask her what that’s about.
After all the greetings, you go upstairs to put your luggage in your room. It’s the same one you’ve been using since you were a little kid, and it feels like coming home every time you step inside. The walls are lined with pictures from every summer before. And the dresser is littered with movie tickets, seashells, and a stuffed bear that Natasha won for you at the summer carnival.
You were only 10 at the time and wanted it more than anything. She spent over an hour playing a game to get enough tickets to cash them in for the bear. You miss that version of her.
“Y/n,” Yelena barges into your room and interrupts your thoughts. She plops onto your bed. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“I’m just settling in, Yel. Maybe another time,” you tell her.
“Come onnnnn,” she begs. “I haven’t been today, and I waited for my best friend to go with me. Please, please, please!”
“Fine,” you relent.
“Yes! Meet you downstairs in ten,” she says.
You grin at her antics and get changed into a swimsuit. Most summers you have been modest, but this year you decided to try out a new bikini. Your friend Jane had convinced you that it was about time. You slip on a Hawaiian button-up shirt and go downstairs.
As you open the front door, you are met with two people on the other side.
“Y/n!” Alexei yells. “I would hug you, but I smell like fish!”
“Nice to see you, Alexei,” you say.
He moves inside and reveals Natasha standing behind him. She doesn’t look like she’s been fishing all day. She looks perfect.
“Hey- hi Natasha,” you say.
Her eyes rake over your body and land back on yours.
“You grew up,” Natasha acknowledges.
“Yeah, I guess,” you reply, not really knowing what to say. “I’m going to swim with Yelena, so excuse me.”
“Have fun,” she says. You walk by her, and she watches you go. She kicks herself for not saying something better to you, but she didn’t know how to react. You were always beautiful to her, but something felt different when she saw you this time.
You spend the rest of the day with Yelena on the beach laughing and catching up with each other. She tells you about this new girl she’s talking to, Kate, and how she doesn’t know if the girl feels the same. Yelena explains that Kate is going to be at a party and practically begs you to say yes to going.
The first day ends like every day at the beach house does, watching the sunset with your friends and family.
The next morning, Natasha and Yelena are up early to go help Alexei at the docks. They tried to convince you to go with them, but you got out of it. One time of getting seasick years ago and they accept your excuse that it could happen again.
Instead, you go to town and buy drinks for the party tonight. At the store, you run into a beautiful girl.
“Are you new around here?” the girl asks.
“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid actually. But this,” you gesture to the drinks in front of you, “is new.”
The girl laughs gloriously and sticks her hand out for you to shake.
“I’m Wanda,” she says.
“Y/n,” you reply. “Are you going to the party tonight?”
“I was thinking about it,” Wanda answers. “If a pretty girl like you is going to be there, then I think I’ll make an appearance.”
“I’ll see you there then,” you say. You’re not sure where the sudden wave of confidence comes from, but you’re satisfied with yourself.
You bid Wanda a goodbye and drive back to the house. Later when Yelena and Nat return, they get dressed and you tell your parents you’re going out. They don’t love the idea, but Natasha promises to keep a watch on everyone.
Natasha drives to the other side of the beach and there’s already a good number of people at the party. A bonfire rests in the middle as everyone talks and music plays from the speakers.
“Don’t get into any trouble,” Nat says, taking her own bag of drinks and disappearing into the crowd. You try not to feel disappointed that she’s not going to hang out with you and Yelena.
“Oh, god, okay there she is,” Yelena says. She turns towards you to avoid staring directly at Kate.
“She’s cute,” you tease her. “Go talk to her.”
“No way,” Yelena says.
“Why? Don’t you text her like all the time?”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“Fair enough,” you say.
Yelena takes a long sip of her drink, and you laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the girl from the store today. Wanda.
“Oh shit, she actually came,” you mumble.
“Who?” Yelena asks.
“I forgot to tell you,” you begin. “I met a girl today at the store and kind of invited her.”
“Well, well, well. Y/n, the smooth talker,” Yelena teases. “Where is she?”
You point to the girl who’s standing by the bonfire and talking to a guy.
“Fuck,” Yelena mumbles.
“What?”
“That’s Wanda Maximoff,” Yelena says.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“She hooks up with like everyone, including Natasha.”
“Oh,” you say. The idea of someone else hooking up with Nat breaks your heart.
“Trust me, you don’t want to go down that path,” Yelena says. Her usual funny nature fades into a serious voice.
“I won’t,” you say. “Oh, look here comes Kate. You look great.”
The tall brunette approaches you and Yelena. She smiles at Yelena and the blonde’s legs threaten to give out.
“Hey I’m Kate, I don’t think we’ve met,” she speaks to you first.
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” you tell her.
“Hey Yelena,” Kate says. Both girls blush.
“I’m going to grab another drink,” you excuse yourself.
Walking towards the drinks, you run into Wanda.
“There’s the prettiest girl here,” Wanda says. “I was looking for you.”
“Oh, hey yeah I was with some friends,” you say. You try not to sound too interested, but the woman is compelling.
You don’t notice Natasha’s eyes on you and Wanda.
“Nat? Are you even listening?” Maria asks the woman.
“Hm? Yeah, yes, I’m sorry,” Natasha says. She kisses the woman on the cheek quickly. “I’ll be right back.”
Natasha makes her way over to you and Wanda. Yelena notices and tries to interfere.
“Nat, I already told her to not get with her. She’s fine. They’re just talking,” Yelena says.
“I don’t fucking care. She needs to stay away from y/n,” Natasha says.
The redhead barges past Yelena. She places a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.
“Well hello Romanoff,” Wanda says with a grin.
“Don’t. Why are you talking to y/n? I thought I told you to stay away from these parties,” Natasha says.
“Natasha, hey it’s fine. I can handle myself. We were just talking,” you try to cut in.
“You heard the girl,” Wanda says.
“Leave her alone,” Natasha grits out. “Or I swear to god you will regret it.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Wanda asks, getting in the girl’s face.
“Alright, let’s just calm down here,” Yelena tries to diffuse the situation. “Why don’t you just leave Wanda?”
“I have a right to be here,” Wanda says.
The girl is taller than Natasha, but Nat doesn’t back down. Not even slightly.
They stare each other down for what feels like forever before Carol, whose party this is in the first place, comes over to the group of you.
“All of you have to go,” Carol says. “Come on, Natasha, I thought you were better than this.”
“Whatever,” Nat mumbles. You and Yelena follow her to the car. Yelena apologizes to Kate.
“Hey, you can’t just do that shit to me Nat! I was just talking to her!” You yell.
“Just get in the car,” Nat instructs.
“Get in, y/n,” Yelena says.
You relent and get into the car.
The next morning you see Natasha sitting on the balcony overlooking the beach. You take a deep breath and walk toward her.
“Hey Natasha,” you say. She lifts up her head from the book she’s reading. “Can we talk?”
She doesn’t reply but she pulls out the chair next to her and gestures to it.
“I don’t think it was cool that you interrupted me and Wanda last night,” you say. “Nothing was going to happen.”
Nat shakes her head. “You need to stay away from her.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know. I know- it’s just that I have the urge to protect you,” Nat admits. “Maybe I did overreact though. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” you say.
“So, are you going to the carnival tonight?” Nat asks. It’s the first effort she’s made at small talk all week.
“I think so, yeah. Yel wants to go,” you say. “What about you?”
“Maria wants to go, but I would rather just stay here and read,” Natasha says.
“Are you- um- dating Maria?”
Natasha seems to think about it for a moment. “No, but we’ve gone out a few times. She’s pretty and nice, but it’s nothing serious.”
“Right,” you say. You see Yelena come towards the balcony, so you excuse yourself. “I’ll see you later.”
Before Nat can reply, you’re out the door and Yelena fills the empty seat next to her. She sits in it sideways, and half of her legs end up in Natasha’s lap.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Natasha says.
“I know you are,” Yelena says. “But I do want to ask you why you got so defensive of y/n. We’re not little kids anymore, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nat says. She looks out over the water and the morning sky.
“You do know.”
“I don’t.”
“Natasha,” Yelena says sternly.
“Yelena,” the redhead matches her tone. “Fine. I may possibly be somewhat into her.”
“I knew it!” Yelena says. “Ever since last summer you’ve been weird about her!”
“Shut up,” Natasha says. “It’s just a crush. It’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Yelena says. “She’s beautiful. I’ve even had my moments this summer where I think about her.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep,” Yelena says. “But liking your best friend is a shitty idea.”
“I don’t know about that,” Natasha says. “Odds are she doesn’t like either of us.”
“That’s probably true,” Yelena says.
The two sisters laugh and start talking about other stuff. You didn’t mean to overhear their conversation. And you definitely shouldn’t have stayed once they started talking about you, but you did, and you can’t believe both girls like you. You don’t even always like yourself.
For the rest of the day, you mostly avoid the girls. It wasn’t too hard since Melina and your mom asked you to go shopping with them. Melina always does too much and buys you more clothes than you could ever need. But it’s a fun day, nonetheless.
When you get back to the house, Yelena is waiting for you by the stairs. She is wearing a swimsuit and you can’t pretend not to notice. You never let yourself think of her like this, but God she is beautiful. She follows you up the stairs.
“Are you still down to go to the carnival tonight?” Yelena asks.
“Yeah. Who else is going?” You ask.
“I was thinking just us. Like old times,” Yelena responds. A cute smile is on her face.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll get changed.”
In your room, you wonder what you should wear. It’s just two old friends going to the carnival, you remind yourself. You slip on a dress and go to Yelena’s room.
You knock on the door frame. “You ready?”
“Yes,” she says, turning from her vanity. “You look good.”
“Thank you,” you reply a little shyly. “So do you.”
She’s wearing high-waisted blue jean shorts and a green crop top. Her eyes are perfectly accented by the color.
Yelena drives to the pier and you two enter the carnival. You play all of the usual games and eat way too much food. She asks you to go on the Ferris wheel with her.
“I’m scared of heights,” you remind her.
“It’ll be fun! I promise I’ll keep you safe! Please!” the girl begs.
“Alright, fine,” you relent.
You wait in line and sit in the seat together. It starts going up and you hold her hand.
“You’re good, detka. You’re good,” Yelena says.
“What does that mean?” You ask before you bury your face in her neck in fear.
She laughs and soon you come to a halt at the top.
“Y/n, look,” Yelena says. She uses her hand to pull your head from her and you peak out at the view. “Look how beautiful it is.”
“Oh, wow,” you say, looking at the way the moon falls over the ocean. You accidentally glance too far down and scare yourself again.
“Woah, hey you’re alright, malysh. Relax,” Yelena says. “Just look at me.”
And you do. You look at her eyes. And her perfect lips. Her hands on either side of your face brush softly against your skin.
“Yelena-”
You’re cut off by her lips on yours. They’re so soft and gentle. It doesn’t feel odd at all to kiss your best friend, but you’re not sure if sparks are flying either. The kiss breaks when the Ferris wheel starts moving again.
“That was-”
“Yeah,” you interrupt Yelena this time. “I didn’t know you- um- liked me like that.”
“I honestly didn’t realize it until this summer,” Yelena explains.
“Look Yelena, maybe we should just be friends?”
“Oh.”
“Not that that kiss wasn’t amazing or anything! But I just don’t want things to get fucked up, you know,” you explain.
“Right. No, you’re making sense,” Yelena says. She wonders if maybe Nat was right.
“You should text Kate,” you tell her. The ride is over, and you hop off. “I’m going to head out.”
“I’ll drive you,” Yelena says.
“That’s okay. Kate is here and you two should hang out.”
Yelena pulls you into a long hug. “I love you, y/n.”
“I love you too, Yelena,” you say.
You catch a ride with another friend of yours, Monica. She takes you to the beach house. You thank her and catch sight of Natasha in the pool.
“So, you didn’t make it to the carnival?” you ask her.
“Nah,” Nat says. “You did?”
“Yep,” you say.
You sit on the edge and put your feet in the pool. Nat swims over to you. Her red hair looks beautiful as it falls over her back.
“How was it?” Natasha asks.
“Eventful,” is all you supply. “How was your night?”
“TBD,” she says.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Join me?” She asks.
“In the pool?”
“Where else?”
“I’m not in a swimsuit,” you say.
“So? Like old times, come on,” Natasha says. The alluring smile on her face doesn’t leave you room to argue.
You let her pull you into the pool. She holds you under the water like she did when you were kids.
“Hey!” you splash her with water when you come up to the surface. “Meanie!”
“Meanie? What are you seven?”
“Shut up,” you say.
Natasha tries to grab you to pull you under again, but you escape her grasp. She pushes you against the wall and you’re pinned by her. Her legs intertwine with yours. Natasha’s lips hover just inches from yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” Nat says. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”
Your heart is screaming yes, but your mind is in dilemma.
“Y/n?” Nat tries.
“Yeah- yes please,” you say. Fuck it.
Natasha smiles and pulls you by the neck into a kiss. It’s rougher than the one with Yelena. It’s hungrier and more handsy. Nat’s hand slips under the neckline of your dress.
“Wait,” you say into the kiss.
Natasha pulls away and looks at you. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I just- I can’t do this right now,” you say.
You get out of the pool quickly and leave Natasha there confused. And Yelena was watching the whole thing from the driveway.
God, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?
584 notes · View notes
agustdiv1ne · 11 months
Note
hi the best writer on tumblr! please can i get a hard dom!felix? <333
ahdhshfh hi nonnie ^^ and yes you can!! (nsfw under the cut - sir kink, degradation, spanking, toy usage)
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felix, in the eyes of the outside world, is soft.
smiley, gentle, and ever so hilarious, practically everyone that he meets has only pleasant things to say afterwards. such a lovely boy, they would swoon, so sweet to his girlfriend. none of them are wrong, not in the slightest. felix is, by far, the best boyfriend that you've ever had. always attentive and constantly at your beck and call — even when you tell him that he doesn't need to be.
"i wanna take care of you," he always responds. "so let me."
in bed, however, your gentle, sweet little lixie tranforms. he's borderline mean. throwing you around, calling you names, teasing you with rough hands and a condescending tone...yet you cannot deny that you completely, utterly enjoy it. and when you misbehave? well, he has some extremely effective methods of putting you in your place.
smack!
"s-seven!" you cry out, voice whiny and thick with tears. "'m sorry! i'll be good, sir! i promise!"
"should've decided that earlier, baby," he growls. another sharp swat to your ass echoes throughout the room, mixing with the yelp that tears from your throat; and while he can be mean, felix is not a monster. his palm soothes over your heated skin, and when you don't say your safe word after a quiet check-in, he takes that as a sign to keep going. he tuts. "couldn't wait 'til we got home, huh? you just had to act like a whore in front of the boys. now look where that got you."
you cannot seem to find words to respond with, your thoughts muddled and foggy and there's words that you wish to say but you just can't get them out. the action of thinking itself is much too burdensome when the only thing filling your senses is felix, felix, felix.
you bury your head deeper into the sheets below you as you pathetically sniffle, drool staining the soft fabric. another blow, and tears finally begin their descent down your cheeks, coupled with a ruined sob.
"how many was that, slut?" you hear from somewhere far away, vaguely recognizing the voice as your boyfriend's through your foggy headspace. you, evidently, do not answer him as quickly as he would like, when his knee sinks into the mattress next to your head and one hand grips your cheeks hard, jerking your head up so that you meet his fiery gaze.
"i asked you a question," his says, tone low and dangerous — it causes your breath to stutter in your chest for a moment. "don't make me repeat it."
you stutter for a moment before you take a deep breath, eyes glazed over as you gaze up at him. "eight?"
you know by the disappointed purse of his lips that you've royally fucked up.
"flip over," he orders, and you immediately obey — an attempt at softening his impending wrath. he leaves the bed for a moment, body disappearing over the side of the mattress. he rises with your wand vibrator in hand before he's settling back between your legs.
"you wanna cum?" he questions, one eyebrow raised when you nod in rapid succession. "do you think you deserve it?"
"please-"
a quick, stinging swat to your thigh cuts you off. his scowl has returned. "do you deserve it?"
"no," you murmur, eyes trailing away from him in embarrassment. he grabs your chin, his thumb slipping between your lips for you to suckle on, guiding your eyes back to him.
"you don't," he agrees. "so you're not going to tonight."
you are unsure when he placed the silicone of the wand against your clit, not until it buzzes to life against you on its highest setting. it causes you to squeal, your legs attempting to close only to be halted by felix's torso. his thumb removes itself from your mouth, his hand moving to your thigh to reveal your center to him once more.
"keep your fucking legs open, brat," he says over your noisy cries and incoherent begging. your hands grip the sheets and your legs quake as you feel the tendrils of your high starting to curl around your stomach, all hot and heavy and too much, please, too much.
the peak of pleasure is within your reach, and it seems as if he can tell, pulling the vibrator away from your clit to drag across your inner thighs. you sob, lungs burning and chest heaving while your hips buck up to chase the pleasure now floating away from you.
he laughs, fucking laughs, at your misery, turning down the toy to a much lower setting. "you're funny, baby, thinking you'd get away with that. now."
the toy returns to your center, and your breathy whine morphs into a scream when he turns it back up.
"let's see how much you can take until you break."
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bettyfrommars · 3 months
Text
the corner of Heartache & Jameson
18+only, cemetery meet cute, talk of grief and death, allusions to depression and alcohol consumption. Eddie is grieving and so is reader.
wc: 706
You hug yourself against the brisk, icy wind, flexing the collar of your coat up to cover your ears as you stand in the cemetery staring with wet eyes at the headstone in front of you.
“Sometimes I hate you for this, you know?” You scowl and shuffle your feet.  “For dying on me like you did, for leaving me alone here in this shitty world.  It’s not fair.”
Your grandmother’s name is spelled out on the cement slab, and there are fresh poinsettias just below it that will soon suffocate under the freshly fallen snow.  The sun is down and darkness crowds in around you, as if stumbling over shafts of light in its eagerness to be by your side.  You don’t avoid them like others might; you let them curl into you like stray cats and make a home.
You silently dare the gathering shadows to do with you what they will.  
You sniff back a sob and wipe tears from your eyes with angry yanks across your cheeks.  “I came to say I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here.  I don’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so—-”
Footsteps crunch in the snow and you hear a lighter flick.
You look up to see the small flame from a few yards away, and then, a face. 
“Did I scare you?” A man's voice asks, lit cigarette bobbing between his lips.
He sucks in a drag, and you scoff at whoever it is, irritated that he would dare to interrupt your therapeutic, sulking rant to your dead grandmother at her grave.  
“Quite presumptuous of you to think you’d have any effect on me,” you bite, wrapping your arms around your ribcage tighter, feeling for the pepper spray in your coat pocket, just in case.  
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.  He lowers the cigarette, and you can only see his silhouette against the falling snow.  “I’m just not used to bumping into people out here this time of night.”
“You hang out in the cemetery a lot? How hardcore of you.” Your tone is mocking, you want him to leave.  You wish to be alone with your misery and the several travel-size bottles of Jameson.
“These past few months, yeah,” he admits with a shrug.  You can see the outline of his hand and the bright cherry glow on his smoke.  “Since my uncle passed.  He’s right over there.”
He sticks his elbow out to the right, in a general direction.  As if he can’t look, as if it’s still too hard. 
“He raised me,” he offers, as if to accentuate the point that the man had not been just any uncle.  “So, I like to come here and get sad, too, you know?”
You relax your hand on the pepper spray.  You relax your jaw too, and for a brief second, you hope that he is the grim reaper coming to take you away from this earthly hell.
He takes a tentative step closer, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you can finally see the gentle curves of his face.  “Names Eddie,” he shoves one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and flicks ash from his smoke with the other.  Other than ripped jeans and sneakers, he only has on a threadbare concert tee and a thin leather jacket.
You don’t tell him your name because you’re not sure if you want to know anyone anymore.  Being alone is better, being alone is safe.  
But you can’t help but notice: “Are you cold?”
He snorts a laugh. “I kinda am, yeah. I didn’t really expect to come out here.  It just…happened.”
You understood the compulsion.  You’d driven to the cemetery in your pajamas once in a fit of grief.  
You felt in your other pocket for the tiny bottles of alcohol and rolled them around in your fingers so that they sounded like crashing marbles.  You held one up to him by the glass neck.  “You want to come back to my car and get warm? Be sad together?”
“Well, it is the holidays,” he tried not to smile but couldn’t help the grin that crept up one side of his face like the Grinch with an idea.  “Sucks to be alone this time of year.”
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rippersz · 5 months
Text
𝙎𝙞𝙭 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。
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。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。
(Alcina Dimitrescu and Larissa Weems Have A Conversation) (Flirty; Gay Panic; Potential Romance?) (L.W.’s POV) (Lady D is slightly OOC)
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。
“Thank you again, Principal Weems, for accepting my daughters. I understand you had to pull a few strings, and for that I am eternally grateful. Let’s just hope they don’t give you any issues, hm?” And a glass of red wine is then brought up to burgundy lips; prompting a hum, a sip, and finally a slow lick along white teeth.
Larissa allows herself to watch, entranced for but a moment, before she’s clearing her throat and giving the woman a polite smile.
“It was no trouble at all, Ms. Dimitrescu. And I’m sure the girls will have plenty of opportunities to flourish. I’m only glad you came before the semester started- otherwise it would have been cutting it finely,” she mused, maintaining a professional tone as best she could while her clasped hands trembled within her lap.
Something about the woman on the other side of her desk, sitting in a chair much too small, was setting Larissa on edge. Aside from the obvious prestige of her name and status, the very displacement- the shift of air- that happened when she walked into a room was astounding. The Principal felt it earlier, only in passing and for a moment, before the three rascals that accompanied her stole most of the attention away.
But here, in the flickering light of the fire and the darkness of the evening, it’s just her and Alcina Dimitrescu. Mother of three, esteemed vintner and business owner, royalty to some extent, and ex jazz musician. Larissa has some of her records in her quarters, but she won’t tell her that. Maybe one day, if they grow closer, but such thoughts are merely the wishes of a lonely woman. Desires with no basis and dreams with no end. Alcina Dimitrescu is exactly her type, yes, and she enjoys her wine, yes, and she finds her marvelously beautiful, yes, but that doesn’t matter. She has to maintain professionalism. She cannot allow the woman to see the effect she has (even though the constant smirk she wears tells Larissa that she most definitely already knows).
“Oh you have no idea how lucky I feel,” comes the deep purr of her tone. “The girls had been bugging me about Nevermore for ages. Only about a month ago did I actually start my research. And I’m glad I did.” Larissa certainly isn’t hallucinating then as sharp grey eyes slowly travel over her upper body. Roaming from her broad shoulders to her bust.
The room suddenly feels very warm. And her dress feels very restricting. But she ignores it.
Professional, professional, professional.
Even though there is nothing professional about Alcina Dimitrescu’s disposition. Oh no. The only thing that exists there is pure desire. Like the deep passionate idea of sex everyone has in their minds - except in the form of a human being. Or a… well she isn’t actually sure what she is. To the average person, at first glance, they may just assume she’s a well put-together tall woman - but Larissa is not a naive, simple woman. She has grown up around outcasts. Give her a test about outcast history, behavior, types, culture, origins, and she will pass with flying colors. Keen eyes notice the signs, the appearance, the behavior, and the things they do to cover it all up.
Like the skin.
It’s beautiful skin. Flawless skin. But painted white, when it’s actually grey. She can see it slightly- so slightly- beneath the makeup near her temple. Where beautiful bouncy black curls meet a pale forehead. She can see the smallest patch of grey. Gargoyle, is her first thought. But when she sees the teeth- stark white and normal, aside from the knife-sharp cuspids that shine in the firelight- she thinks Vampire. But then the hands… She was wearing gloves, but at some point had discarded them into her purse and is now lounging in the chair, holding her wine glass in such a delicate way that Larissa begins to envy the fucking thing. Light skin fades from the huge space of a feminine palm into the dark as midnight color of long slim fingers. They cradle the belly of the glass with a gentle touch - and Larissa catches sight of the nails. Painted black. Sharper than the average ‘accessory’. Like they’re… meant to be dangerous.
She doesn’t say anything about it though. Gargoyle, Vampire, whatever other creature, she would never ask them what their ‘type’ is. For adults with such peculiarities, it’s just not common to do so. Not to mention she’s the Principal of Nevermore Academy - and must set a good example.
…Even though there are no children present… and she is morbidly curious.
Doesn’t matter!
Nope. Not at all.
The beauty, the aura, the mystique of the woman before her will just have to remain a mystery. Even if Larissa has never seen a creature so sublime. With that silky dark hair… and those finely arched brows… and those red lips… and that soft jaw that can become oh so sharp with just a small tense of the muscles… and that nose… and those lashes… and those eyes. They swallow her whole. If she thinks she herself is intimidating, she’s wrong. Because Alcina Dimitrescu is waist-deep in the very meaning. With her sharp, easy languid smile. And her matured laugh lines. And her deep chuckles. And her stature. Broad-shouldered, muscular, with a very curvaceous and blessed figure, soft belly, and long legs. Long legs. Long fucking legs.
When she opened the door, Larissa nearly fainted.
Students and adults alike have a difficult enough job meeting her eyes. A woman standing at 6’3”, about 6’4” in kitten heels, is a thing to marvel at in the outcast and normie worlds. But the implications and awe of it all just astounds her. There are plenty of tall women in existence! Alcina Dimitrescu being one of them. Standing at 6’9”. Probably taller in the stilettos she’s wearing. 6 entire inches between them. She’s never met someone so… big. She had to control her reaction immediately, lest she be forever viewed as one of those people that can’t help but ogle. And how embarrassing that would be.
Even though there’s. Six. Inches. In. Difference.
It’s like they’re on opposite sides of the spectrum. Larissa is tall, but modest about it. She wears a low heel, she gives herself an everyday any-event style of makeup, she wears a light floral perfume, she keeps her hair short and pinned up, she stays neat and she wears work-appropriate dresses and she is still perfectly fashion forward. But ‘Ms. Dimitrescu’ is a different story. Is a bold story. Is an intoxicating story. She wears a high heel, and gives herself dark eyes, accentuates the god-given lashes, paints her lips blood red; and she wears a smoky roll-on scent that smells like spice and jasmine and white musk, and she keeps her short dark hair pulled into a tight 1950’s messy pin-curl kind of look, and she stays perfect while wearing tight grey button downs tucked into high waisted slacks. A feminine type of power suit that isn’t a power suit at all but still commands a room simply because she was just born that way.
It’s infuriatingly distracting.
Larissa has to look down at her lap so she can conjure up a proper response for the woman in front of her - who is still staring.
I think she has a habit, the Principal thinks to herself.
“As am I,” she coughs out, despising the telling husk to her words. “We are always looking for new outcasts at Nevermore. It helps us grow as a school, as a population, as a place of freedom and excitement. Do you know the estimated time of your daughters’ stay?” It wasn’t settled upon before - and Larissa needs something to distract her from the small appreciative sips Ms. Dimitrescu takes from her wine.
“That’s a very good question, Principal,” and a playful tinge slips into that naturally gorgeous expression, “Can they stay with you forever? Lord knows Mother needs a break.” And then she winks, and her red lips part into a smile, and then she takes her eyes elsewhere while Larissa quickly shifts her skin from a burning pink back into the natural peachy pale.
All she can think to do is let out a forced laugh paired with (what she hopes is) a smooth smile.
“As much as I wish they could,” Larissa breathes and puts her hands from her lap back onto the surface of the desk, “that is unfortunately unrealistic. Certain students do have that opportunity, yes, but we always encourage the young ones to get out a bit and see the world. It’s scary at first, but we also tell them that Nevermore will always be here. Should they want to come back, of course.” Is she rambling? Maybe. But her company doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems quite interested. Very interested.
Staring into her bloody soul like she’s been doing since day one. Larissa’s half tempted to ask her if there’s something wrong, but she figures it’s just the way the woman is. Intense.
“I see. Well. I suppose for now, the girls will stay for the standard four years - and if there’s more to discuss down the line, we will simply cross that bridge when we come to it. Does that sound amenable to you, Principal?” Ms. Dimitrescu tilts her head, still carrying an air of arrogant amusement as she strings Larissa along.
“It sounds perfect, yes,” and if her voice dips a little in the middle of her sentence then so what?
Ms. Dimitrescu seems to enjoy it as a slow grin spreads across her cheeks. Deepening her beautiful laugh lines while she smiles with all teeth. It’s nearly embarrassing how quickly Larissa’s eyes snap to the large canines. She’s explored vampiric anatomy before - in her Nevermore days - but this is something different. This woman doesn’t seem like anything she’s seen before, and only a person with an inquisitive mind can’t help but desire more. More like a feel, maybe. Like a touch. The brush of one finger pad along the very sharp tip of one tooth. Or the flick of a sensitive tongue. Or the feeling of them skating along her neck. Or-
“Do you mind if I smoke?”
Larissa blinks.
What?
Before she can say anything, and disagree, and tell her she most certainly does mind, the woman somehow already has a quellazaire tucked between her fingers. The wine glass now sits on the desk, on a coaster, and the lit end of a cigarette is already sparkling with the glow of burning embers. It’s brought up to red lips. Pressed and held. Then taken away while the taller woman slowly tips her head back and releases a deep chest-shaking groan. The smoke curls into the air like fingers around a woman’s waist, and Larissa is utterly speechless.
“I- uh-”
That beautiful head lifts itself, and she quickly notices the challenge weaseling around through the other woman’s gaze. A veil of smoke now separates them. But that doesn’t stop her from sniffing and licking her lips and adjusting herself in her seat - right before she sets down the law.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t do that Ms. Dimitrescu. This is still a public building, a school no less, and we want to set a good example for the students.” She silently congratulates herself on her courage. Right before it’s tugged away.
“Oh?” The other woman straightens up, her back arching in a way that makes Larissa wish she could skate her fingers along the beautiful curve it makes. “I wasn’t aware there were students present. Are you somehow able to see things I’m not, Principal Weems?”
It’s a small shot of playful mockery that makes her heart rate speed up- and for a second there she thinks she sees grey eyes shooting down to her chest, like she can hear the change in rhythm, before quickly meeting her gaze again.
Larissa plasters on her most obviously placating smile while she tilts her head. If there’s one thing that pisses her off, it’s a blatant disregard for respect. Alcina Dimitrescu may be older, and more prestigious, but this is Larissa Weems’s turf. One must bow to the king they visit.
“No, Ms. Dimitrescu, unfortunately I haven’t been gifted with that particular ability,” she speaks as clearly as she can, letting the passive aggression in her words flow out from behind smiling white teeth. “But I do know that I’m not fond of inhaling second-hand smoke. And should a student walk in at this hour, I can’t imagine they’d appreciate the assault on the senses either.” Her eyebrows quirk up, silently daring the woman to fight back. Just see what happens.
But her show of authority doesn’t anger Ms. Dimitrescu in the way she thought it would. It, instead, just makes her red lips twitch while she takes her second and last inhale - before taking the cigarette out of its long holder and… burning it. Twisting it to ash. On the sensitive skin of her hand. Between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers. Creating a slow circle. Smushing it to a weird tobacco-y pulp.
Larissa’s lips part in shock.
When the ruined cigarette is pulled away, not even a mark is left. Just a small smudge of ash that Ms. Dimitrescu wipes off with her thumb.
So certainly not human. And not a Gargoyle. And not a Vampire.
She swallows, unable to speak a single word while the woman puts her quellazaire away and stands up to her full height - towering over the desk for a moment - before she’s turning around and strutting over to the fireplace. Her hips sway as she goes, and her hair bounces lightly against the base of her neck, and the mixed smell of her spiced perfume and cigarette smoke floats into Larissa’s eager lungs and honestly, she wants nothing more than to trail after her and put her hands on those strong shoulders and push her onto the sofa and demand that this woman tell her who she thinks she is. Walking around her office as if she owns the place. Pouring hubris and carrying the kind of confidence only a rich woman can have… Like Larissa isn’t doing her a favor. Like Larissa didn’t have to bargain with the board to allow the Dimitrescu children into Nevermore. Homeschooled girls with the kind of peculiarities that can only stem from faraway villages; rough in their play and sharp in their minds. Just like their mother. Whose wine every single board member drinks.
Whose wine Larissa drinks.
But that’s also something she won’t tell her.
The wine in Ms. Dimitrescu’s glass, anyway, is one Larissa had to pull out from her own liquor cabinet; after she offered a drink to the other woman, thinking she knew she meant water or sparkling cider. But she didn’t. Or she didn’t care. And once she put the bottle and the crystal glass on the desk, she instantly took the initiative and poured herself a wonderfully hefty helping of a young Zinfandel. To a regular person, that amount of wine had in such a short period of time (their session is supposed to be 45 minutes but Larissa knows it’s run over) would definitely leave them drunk without any preamble. Of course, Ms. Dimitrescu is something distinctly inhuman, and her figure is probably quite heavy with all of that muscle… and curves… and the way her belly pushes against the waistband of her slacks ever ever so slightly… and she may have eaten earlier in the day and-
Why on Earth am I thinking about this?
Larissa has to keep herself from rolling her eyes.
A confident, slightly egotistical, insanely intelligent pretty woman steps into her office and drinks some of her wine and stares into her very being and suddenly she’s unable to control herself? She lived with Morticia Addams for nearly four years! Whatever training and self-discipline she gained from that experience has just flown out the window in the face of- of- of whatever the fuck Alcina Dimitrescu is?! No. Nonsense. Unacceptable. Her professionalism still remains. The woman can push the boundaries, but she cannot take Larissa’s dignity and jurisdiction. Even if she looks unnaturally attractive standing by the fire and lazily throwing her cigarette away into the flames.
Even if her eyes, for just a moment, flash a violent gold.
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。
When worlds collide !! I may do other parts of this; or little one-shots with this pairing. So let me know what you think? Thank you, darlings. - Rip x
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。
Tags (Keep in mind Tumblr doesn't let me tag certain accounts): @oddball21 @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @opalthefrog @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @erablaise-blog @bellatrixsbrat @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @lex13cm @sugipla @hasthebaconinhispants @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @eveymay @one-pining-queer @azu-zu @niceminipotato @hopelessly-sapphic @barbarasstar @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @h-doodles @zillahofviolets-bayolet @weemssapphic @the-bearr @amateurwritescm
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byhees · 6 months
Text
ideal type ━━ ( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ♡ genre fluff high school au potential friends2lovers warnings not proof-read skinship hardcore crushing
thinking about sunghoon, who happens to be the boy you have a major crush on; at first, you doubted the thumping of your heart to be some effect of ‘puppy love’, but now that you both have gotten closer over the months, it’s loud and clear that that’s, a hundred and one percent, not the case.
and to be frank, you’re not sure as to how he hasn’t realised this yet; you’d like to think that you’ve been really, painfully obvious— and that’s completely beyond your control, especially with all the adorable things that he does; he just keeps leaning over you to hear you better, cupping your face to take a fallen eyelash and patting your head every so often. i mean, who wouldn’t be flustered when under his caring gaze??? hahaha… precisely. but it’s completely normal to smile real hard when texting your friend, to gaze at a friend from afar because they just look so pretty and surreal, to… wish under every shooting star that a friend doesn’t notice your racing heart whilst hugging, to… blush at nearly every one of your friend’s cute gestures, to… uh feel all tingly around a friend. omg.
if he doesn’t want for you to completely crumble and melt right in front of him, then he should stop complimenting you nearly every hour of the day!! like stop casually telling me that i have pretty eyes, that this and that reminded you of me… it’s not healthy for my heart to continually thump so quickly, okay??
also, he just loves walking you back home, a cute, oblivious smile plastered on his stupidly cute face; it’s not that you dislike it, it’s that you fear when you might actually give into your inner temptations to hold his hand, because apparently he can’t keep it close to his side, and his fingers keep brushing against yours without a care in the world.
and you can’t exactly expect for one to not malfunction when their crush asks them what their ideal type is like; and so, when the few words left his lips, you began rambling… “oh y’know, it’d be good if he were this,” you said, raising your arm to indicate a height, “much taller than me. and has black hair and uh brown eyes. with a nice.. erm nose bridge. maybe it’d be nice if he were knowledgeable and smart and stuff. it’d be kinda cool if he had something he were passionate about, like a hobby or something… shows, uhm, passion! y’know??” that probably made zero sense, given your continuous mumbling and the insane amount of filler words, but that was what you’d blurted out to your crush, so maybe you can just live, laugh, love and forget that??
well, there was someone who hadn’t forgotten a word you said; in fact, they replayed in his head at all times. a head-ish taller that you? check. black hair and brown eyes? got those too. smart and knowledgeable? he’d like to think that that’s a check. a passion towards a hobby? well he goes ice skating on a regular basis if that counts?
and so, on the following day, you were definitely met with a surprise; “yn, look at me,” he says, bending slightly to meet your gaze. “don’t you think i look like the guy you described yesterday?” omg. you’re joking.
taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @j1nniee networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels
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bokettochild · 1 month
Text
Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"
Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days
Wordcount: 4,847
Rating: Teen
Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.
Written by request of @sweetlemonad
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“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.” 
The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there.. 
Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different. 
He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt. 
Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling. 
“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?” 
The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?” 
“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone. 
Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky. 
  “Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.” 
“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?” 
Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.” 
“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified. 
The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.” 
“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod. 
“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died. 
“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.” 
There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up. 
“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.  
Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him? 
The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.” 
Deku Tree bless, is he right? 
  “A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.” 
Sheik. 
He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before. 
The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?” 
The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?” 
The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”  
By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.  
“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.” 
It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.” 
“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh. 
Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs. 
As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens. 
It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity. 
Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being. 
He can only ignore it for so long though. 
Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind. 
“Failure follows in your legacy.” 
As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create? 
How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own? 
“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.” 
Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.” 
“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.” 
No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of. 
He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish? 
Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t. 
Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking. 
It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end. 
Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others. 
Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again. 
Failures. 
Never intended to exist. 
Ought never have come to be. 
Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses. 
It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing. 
Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls. 
He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop? 
“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity. 
“Yes?”  
The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.” 
Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to. 
“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.” 
“We can stop for a rest.”  
The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”  
Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.” 
He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone. 
Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt. 
Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing. 
In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance. 
The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head. 
They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful. 
But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures. 
He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent. 
Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse. 
When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred. 
It’s freeing. 
There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again. 
Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world. 
He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent.  Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well. 
The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts. 
Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t. 
He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon. 
“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.” 
He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything. 
Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing. 
The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure. 
The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry. 
Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering. 
He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away. 
In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed. 
Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow. 
The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them. 
When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes. 
Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?” 
The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury. 
Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest. 
A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning. 
The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword. 
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drdemonprince · 1 month
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Im sure some of them have been way over a line but if you’re feeling petulant at vulnerable disabled people saying fuck yall to society imagine how we feel to see someone “reticent” to talk about covid issues because “people take it too far”. Sorry that’s probably not entirely fair I’m just so fuucking sick of it. Like of course their exceptions to masking. But don’t tell me how to speak after what I’ve been through. The paternalism makes me want to throw up
Yeah, I think a lot of people think this is about tone policing disabled people who are rightly outraged and despairing, and that's really not what it's about.
This is about the Joe Bidens and Lori Lightfoots of the world blaming covid spread on individuals behaving badly, while systematically dismantling the very social programs that would have made it possible for anyone to behave "well."
There are two conversations happening here that keep getting flattened because of context collapse on the internet. There is the conversation about which feelings disabled and high risk people are allowed to voice. there is no virtue in tone policing that. Disabled people need to express their hurt, hopelessness, and outrage, and no one can stop them from doing that. no one should stop them from doing that. It is not an act of shaming for them to say how they feel. it's important.
There is a separate, more tactical conversation to be had about which kinds of messaging are effective in altering behavior. This is the question for the public health researchers and the activists and the people planning outreach. We have to be able to talk about what works and what doesn't and why.
Just as disabled people who are despairing about COVID have the right to express their pain, disabled people also have a right to discuss how to best movement build and influence public behavior.
I am gonna talk about what the research shows about persuasion and why a lot of organizations are utterly fumbling in influencing people's COVID mitigation behaviors, and I do that because I care about those things changing. I have no interest in silencing my comrades who are experiencing deep grief and terror and outrage and wish to express that, and certainly no one will be silencing me. Even if listening to people who do find masking and social distancing hard and trying to meet them where they are at so that we can practice harm reduction does make you want to barf.
It's understandable you feel that way, and you don't have to do that kinda work. it's work I have the bandwidth for though as someone who also finds doing the "right" things hard here. no amount of people being mad about that is gonna change the fact that strict COVID mitigation adherence is difficult for me. if that fact becomes unspeakable, my behavior wont become perfect, it will just become more secretive.
a person can be angry at me for not being perfect and that's their right but it won't "fix" my behavior. it will just make me feel like a murderer for having pressing, life or death needs of my own. conversely, someone listening to me and caring about me and helping me meet my needs while also reducing my risks helps a whole ton. and so I try to extend that to others as best I can.
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sarahisslytherin · 2 years
Text
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 || 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒
summary: a bet between friends gives legolas a chance to tell you how he feels. contains: tooth rotting fluff, me attempting period appropriate language. a/n: first lotr fic so take it easy on me pls.
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legolas watched as you drew back the bow, missing the bullseye yet again. his giddy laughter could be heard from across the clearing, but you wouldn’t let him deter you just yet.
“do you surrender?” he called out jovially, his ribs still shaking.
“never!” you cried out, and drew yet another arrow.
it was the night before that led you here. you’d all been sitting round the fire, trading tales and sharing laughter when legolas became the subject matter, and with that, the butt of the joke.
“how hard can it possibly be to shoot an arrow?” you’d poked at him, a goofy drunken smirk on your face.
“for me, not at all.” he’d replied. “for you, however…”
you clutched your chest in faux offense. “how dare you?”
legolas couldn’t fight back his laughter at that. “you must be the clumsiest person i’ve ever come across!” he said. “the other day i saw you run into a tree!”
“i saw you step on a branch that jumped up and smacked you in the face!” gimli added.
the hobbits laughed ferociously imagining your clumsiness. it was an easy thing to picture, they knew it well.
“anyone else?” you asked snarkily, arms crossed defensively.
“i saw you close a door on your fingers.” aragorn snickered under his breath. you smacked him over the head with a smirk before setting your drink down, all seriousness and sobriety.
“fine, you know what?” you slurred, meeting legolas’ grinning gaze. “tomorrow i’ll prove to you how easy it is to shoot an arrow. i’ll do it myself.”
the men oohed and aahed like children, eager eyes flitting between you and legolas. “why don’t we make this more interesting?” he proposed, earning more sound effects from the fellowship.
you leaned in, like a dog whose ears had pricked up. “i’m listening.”
“if you do not hit a bullseye before sundown, you’re on night watch for a whole week.”
“and if i do?”
“you’re very optimistic.” he smirked, but you remained stone-faced. “then i’ll do whatever you wish for the week, i will be at your beck and call.”
“challenge accepted.” your hands met each other over the fire and shook.
now the sun was beginning to dip dangerously low, falling closer to the horizon by the minute. legolas had been stopping by to check on you, most of the time to tease and sometimes just to watch the angle of your arms, burnt from so much sun, the furrow of your brow, lined with determination and the way your eyes followed every ill-fated arrow, falling with them.
you reached back once again, only to find you’d run out of arrows. there’d be no time to get more and return before nightfall. legolas had won. you knew it was only a silly challenge between friends, but you couldn’t deny part of you wished to impress him, to make him proud.
“no luck yet?” he crept up behind you, a smile barely playing on his lips.
“gloating does not suit you, legolas.” you rolled your eyes, letting your hands come to rest at your sides, the bow with them.
“how fortunate i did not come to gloat then.” he grinned openly now, his palm covering your hand as he placed an arrow between your fingers and angled you just so. “do not think too hard about it.”
you took a deep breath in, legolas clouding your senses. he smelled of moss and earth and magic. his hand over yours, his shallow breath at your neck. these were the only things you could think of as you let go and watched the arrow fly for the bullseye as if on its own.
“there you are.” legolas hummed in satisfaction, reluctantly letting his hand fall from yours and stepping back. “just needed a helping hand.”
you turned to face him. “it doesn’t count if you helped.”
“the rules can be bent.” he shrugged. “i do make them.” for a moment he was cast in the last golden hues the sun had to offer before finally slipping past the horizon.
“but i wanted to- oh, forget it.” you sighed, turning away, not before legolas could spin you back to face him.
“what? what did you want?” he asked like a hound sniffing out a scent.
“i simply, i simply wanted to impress you. i know i’m clumsy and you’re so graceful and breathtaking. i only wished to make you proud, so that you could see me as i see you.”
legolas’ face had gone slack while you spoke, but now his brow furrowed with confusion. “is that what you believe? that i don’t see you as you are?” he asked in earnest. 
“you may be clumsy, and yes, we do tease you for it, but i assumed you knew it was only because it is the only fault you seem to have. you are brave, kind and intelligent. you make all of us smile, men, dwarves, hobbits and elves alike.”
he leaned in, cupping your face as if handling porcelain. “certainly you know- i’m afraid now i can’t be certain of anything.” he laughed and so did you, “but certainly you know of my feelings for you.”
“i think i do.” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.
“you think you do?” he smiled. “well, allow me to rid you of doubt.” you nodded, and then he kissed you. you threaded your fingers through the silver locks, careful not to ruin his braids. eventually, and much to your dismay, you both pulled back for air, nothing but your uneven breaths filling the night air.
“you’re much better at that than you are at archery.” legolas teased, earning a playful shove.
“it seems i’ve won though.” you smiled. “you said it, one week you must be at my beck and call.”
“oh, love.” he sighed fondly. “i already was.”
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