#so many ribs!!! a shoulder blade too!!!!!!

[fandomobbsessedb]

Alastor x F!Overlord!Reader

AN: this is the result of the first poll I posted, Alastor won so here we are!

I’ve kinda broken this into two bits in this one shot, there’s a warning farther down if you want to keep within the ideas of “headcannon” but farther below I have the start of a story, I got a bit carried away and am too far gone to delete it.

⚠️Warnings: mentions of blood, death, weapons, smoking, maybe 1 instance of cannibalism ( but its more in the sense of revenge rather than a canabalistic reader) (idk man it’s hell if your triggered don’t read 😭) this is really long already so I might just break it up or continue it to make a part 2. I have a LOOOOOOT of references in here to so many things, if you guys can pick up on them leave a comment and I’ll tag list you in my next fic if you want! Or don’t I honestly couldn’t care less it’s just for fun :p

Reader is referred to with afab terms.

Pt2-

================================

• In your life you tried to stay on “the right” path. Your parents raised you right, you tried your hardest to be nice, and where always on your best behavior, but after getting the short end of the stick for too long you kinda… loose it.

• You ended up in hell after a night out partying with some of your most valued clients, when you went to drive yourself home the heel of your stiletto got stuck under the gas pedal, as you tried to pull it out you took your eyes off the road and 💥 BAM 💥 you where hit by a large grocer truck.

•Opening your eyes to a red wasteland, the bright flash of lights and the smell of brimstone flood your senses. Looking down to try and gather your bearings you notice your whole body wasn’t (skn/tn) anymore… it was marble grey?

“Where… where am I?” I mumbled under my breath, trying to gather my surroundings, a bright flashing catches my eyes, a gigantic neon sign in the sky gives me my anwser…

“Welcome to Hell!!!”

“Hell…. I’M DEAD?!!!!” I groaned out through barred teeth and stood to my feet, looking around I saw definite signs, this was Hell alright. A blood red sky, fires everywhere, little sinners running around stabbing and shooting one another.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, ALL MY WORK, MY SHOPPING EMPIRE, MY CLOSET, MY AWARDS, MY EVERYTHING, RAAAAAAHHH!!!” In my anger I grabbed the nearest sinner and threw them to the ground, putting my foot between their shoulder blades and grabbing their arms.

“You’re gonna tell me right now, what the hell is going on, WHY AM I DEAD AND HERE-” I shouted in their ear, seeing blood come out… oh shit I probably burst their ear drum… oh well, I’ve done that plenty of times to my assistants.

“D-d-do you mean, like in hell, or or just this area?” They questioned nervously. To be fair they were a scrawny little thing…

“What in the-“ I paused to look around, then referred back to this little shit “actually HELL are you talking about?”

“W-w-well, you must, *gulp* you must be new here, huh?” It asked with a weary smile and a weak little laugh, probably trying to ease the tension. “Well, down… down here, we uh, we have overlords who- who rule certain areas, we’re in Ms.Leefolt’s t-t-t-territory right now, I mean, our king Lucifer, Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar rule all of hell…”

“Well, that certainly is… intresting.” I smirk and stand up, releasing his arms but not letting my foot off his back. “So these, overlords… are they appointed by your king, or born into or something?” I question with a sharp red nail in between my teeth, thinking…

“No, no ma’am just, just anyone who’s ballsy enough to, to, take over enough territory and have enough demons- sell them their souls in exchange for something. Umm- if it’s not too much of a bother, could you let me go… I- I can feel my ribs crushing under me…” it started wheezing out and trying to get a hand under its chest to place a barrier between their chest and the ground.

“Hm, well if that’s all true, I can’t let some little thing like you going around gossiping about me.” I growled looking down at this freak… pressing my heel into his spine harder.

“No! No please, I won’t say a thing I promise!! Just let me go, please… pleas-“

SPLAT-

“Whoops, my bad, I slipped.” I reasoned, pulling my now bloody leg out of his torso.

“Ohh, eeeeeew eweweweweweweeew, I’ve got bits of his, ugh, lung on my heels.” Flicking away the bits of organ from my shoes, I take a breath and another look around but this time in a planning sense. Overlords huh, well, I’ll just have to see how much this ‘miss leefolt’ likes the taste of arsenic, I wonder when the last time she had a homemade pie was….

• So of course to establish some dominance in my new living arrangement, I gutted that bitch from the inside out. I took her territory, her power, her souls, even her manor. When I went to her office to kill her I found the deed to her house and all the contracts of sinners who gave her their souls in a pretty shittily hidden safe.

• I mean, I had to work so hard to build my life up just for a stupid grocer to end it all, so this is fine… right?

• The years go by and the world changes, you became one of the most powerful and influential overlords in hell, re-establishing your power once held on earth to a business in hell. Rosie and Velvet quickly becoming your closest friends, Velvet in a more business sense and Rosie being your go to gossip gal. Both of you having elegant and refined tastes. You and Husk became friends over talking shit in a casino one night, and remained friends after his downfall. He talks to you about this, radio demon, from time to time but you haven’t heard much of him

Little do you know he knows almost everything about you~

• Your walking around Cannibal Town one day waiting for Rosie to finish a meeting, watching children run around and little carts selling all kinds of body related snacks.

I lost a bit of my sense of surrounding and almost tripped on a kid running around with his friend throwing a head back and fourth.

"Jerermy! Stop playing with your lunch and apologize to that nice lady you almost ran into."

"Sorry miss, I didn't mean too." He said looking down at the head ashamedly, then offering me a piece of the cheek. "Would you like some of this face? It's really good." He looked up at me with an excited look. "Oh thank you, but I'm waiting for lunch with my friend, I'll go to the butcher and get some though, it looks really good." I smiled my pointy teeth at him, patted his head and motioned him back to his mother, she waved to me and I nodded my head back, thinking it was time for Rosie to be done by now.

"My my, with your reputation of anger issues I would assume you would tear that poor child into bits upon realization." A staticky voice spoke behind me, tilting my head back but not my body as I don't know who it is. I look him up and down, his outfit and cane/staff thingy give off quite the powerful impression. "My, mhm, reputation?" I pester raising my eyebrow.

"Ah-hahahaha, My name's Alastor, its quite a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He introduced reaching for the back of my hand to place a kiss. Him saying his name reminded me, I too finally recognized the name. "Oh, Rosie has told me much about you." The radio demon, his names been brought up many times around cannibal town since he frequented their shops and small town locals.

"Oh yes, Rosie is one of my dearest friends" He replied linking our elbows and started walking towards the shop. "Mine as well, she is quite the darling, so let me ask you now, where you just standing there when I got to the park, or where you going to follow me in silence since I left the emporium~" He didn't stutter in his step but my revelation made the air feel a bit more, weary on his side. Reaching into my hand purse I grabbed my lipstick and hand mirror and paused my walk to apply a touch more. Looking just past my lips in the reflection I saw his eyes in the back corner snap to my down, then back up to my eyes with a tight smile. "Well, are you coming? I know Rosie hates to be kept waiting." I snapped it shut and outreached my elbow waiting for him to link his so that we could start the traverse back to Rosie's.

• After our little group luncheon with Rosie, Alastor and you didn't verbally indicate that you were closer in any sense. But physically you swayed like two tree's. Brushing branches back and fourth with the breeze, restless and apart yet labeled as "together"

• You started doing weekly business deals, him acquiring land and souls for you, and all he asked in returns is he uses that land and those souls as he pleases. Which honestly isn't a lot. When he pulls people or their shadows to come help at the hotel- their mostly your people but he always sends them back to whence they came.

• He likes to pretend he doesn't necessarily care for being around you, however he's always looking for time you two can be together, or even thinking of each other. On his radio show he'll mention new shopping, eating, entertainment locations on your turf. He knows you listen when your able to. Sometimes he uses his power to let his station be the only one playing where ever you are. In the car, in a shopping store, you could be sitting in the bathroom and it would get to the point where you can hear it from the vents. Making you roll your eyes and finish your business so you could get to your office to listen to the radio.

• Truth be told... you where falling to his whims as well. Alastor didn't necessarily have "territory" but many places in one area he had influence in and quite often frequented. When you had rips or damage to your very expensive very delicacy clothing you would walk with him to the seamstress, and afterwards you would often get tea or lunch together. Maybe he knows a good diner or two and ya’ll will sit there and eat, then get a milkshake (mostly bc you wanted one, he just indulges to make you happy though he doesn’t care for the cold sweet taste) and drink it through two straws, awwwwwwwwwwwwe!!

• When either of you knew of prestigious events happening around you invite the other to be your plus one. You go shop together to find outfits for the occasion. You started attending overlord meetings together, with yourself sat on the opposite side of Rosie, sending each other glances and touches under the table whenever Rosie wasn't looking or walked away for a brief moment. At the events you stay close together and often stand away from the crowd, whispering and gossiping together, allowing yourself a to drink silly, little do you know how well he can hold his liquor and often will be the one making sure YOU get home. Sometimes you wake up still dressed, like the gentleman he is, and sometimes you’ll wake up in some red pajama set…. Like the gentleman he is, he’s not gonna let you sleep in an uncomfortable outfit. But he’s respectful about it.

• He often send subliminal messages through your radio to help you fall asleep, to push you to coming to see him, to maybe just stay in your town if he knew something really bad was going on outside. His favorite to do is when your falling asleep he’ll play the calmest songs from his time to comfort you as you drift off.

• When he officially asked to court you he compared you to the beautiful crimson of the sky, saying your cheeks where more bright and delightful to gaze at then the morning sky, when it was particularly bright. All kinds of poetic gestures, sending crows to your windows, sending your gifts of bodies with knives in them, and the knives had small notes left for you on some quote from a book you like. Now how he knows those are your favorite books are beyond you…. you don’t talk about your books much but, maybe he’s seen you reading it at some random point in time? Who knows, not you.

• He’s all in all not a bad partner, of course when you want to go out he usually goes along with what you want to do but if there’s something he refuses to do, his claws are sinking into your arms to keep you from dragging him to do it.

• His smile is genuine around you and you adore when he lets you pet his ears~ he’s not that intimate early on in the relationship but when your just sitting on a couch or watching the sun set from somewhere and you just reach over and pet his ears, he is putty in your hands, physically he keeps his compose fairly well but inside he’s willing to do anything to keep you touching his ears, telling himself he would sell YOU his soul if it meant you wouldn’t stop, petting his ears and helping him groom his antlers, don’t even get me started on the tail… oh wait he’s already got something going on with that… well darn… hopefully you will keep accepting his caring actions rather than push them away.

——-STOP reading here if you don’t want to get into the more “story line” of this idea, if you want more of a story KEEP READING——-

• One night some sinner had gotten into your liquor stash and drank himself ditzy, you chased him into an ally way, looking to end his fucking life. Most of those where gifts from clients that most likely had aphrodisiacs and at the time where trying to get down your pants, but he drank from one of the few special bottles Alastor had gifted you and you went ballistic. You ended up catching him and killing him, and taking a tip from Rosie and ripped some of his limbs off, letting yourself indulge in the taste of warm, liquor filled blood. When you came too you realized you didn't know where you had chased him. Now covered in blood, liquor, rain, mud and whatever mess you stepped in on your way over. Seeing the iluminating lights of the sign for the Hazbin Hotel, your only thought was to try and get to Alastor.

*knock knock knock*

*creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

"Oh! Oh my gosh, hi! Come in Come in. " An ecstatic girl ushered you inside, making a towel appear seemingly out of nowhere and helping you dry off. "I'm Charlie, whats your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me" I respond trying to shake off my chills, my nose starts to get a bit runny. "Uhm I'm Y/N, I don't mean to sound intrusive- uh is Alastor here?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to just barge in but after the night I've had I wasn't in too much of a mood for pleasantries.

"Oh yes! Here, why don't you sit at the bar, have some tea or water or something and I'll run up to his radio tower." She sat me down at a bar stool and walked away. The bartender was turned around already whipping me up something.

"So he's got you wrapped up here huh?" I inquired with a smirk, resting my hands under my chin and trying to keep a little composure. His wings ruffled a little bit before he reached for my favorite hell made brand of brandy, my cotten candy brandy, I'm not one for sweets but I love the zing it gives you. The kind where you loose your vision for a good 7 seconds.

"You haven't usually been one to be a stranger, what gives?" Husk asked turning around handing me my drink and a bowl of pretzels.

"Well when I saw you weren't at your usual gambling tables I didn't think to question it, thought you where maybe getting more chips... ooooor hooking up in the chip room.... ooooor selling even MORE of your soul, if that's even possible, maybe like your wings or your feathers or, like your body as a human shield in the next extermination, never thought you'd be here slinging drinks." I shrugged swirling my drinks around the glass before taking a sip.

Before he could respond he took a bit of a step back and growled really low and deep in his throat.

"Ah yes well he owed me a favor and since I took an investment in this hotel I needed a little work on it done." Alastor came up behind me with a warm towel wrapping it around my shoulders as the one Charlie gave me was wrapped around my waist keeping my legs warm... unfortunatly the sinner got caught at a bad time, I was in the middle of 'me time' before bed and was in my good silk nighty. Glad I walked to my office with my fuzzy robe and ballet slippers. I feel really warm and fuzzy, my heads all….. comfy now… is that static coming from Alast-

"Oh deerest your all wet, would you like to come up and I can help you clean up." He asked you shaking the towel on your shoulders helping you sit up. "Oh yes please" you responded looking at him with sad tired eyes.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I took a sip of the warm tea Alastor had made me and laid back in the bath, taking it all in. I WAS just planning a quiet evening in at home, maybe snack on some treats I got in the Gluttony ring, watch some hells soap operas. Now I’m here, in my beau’s bathroom, relaxing… maybe I can convince him to let me up to his radio tower to listen to his late night show live, oh that would be fun. I wonder what it looks like up there? I’ve only ever seen his actual town house… a little ways away from town-

*CRASH *

“What the fuck?!” I sat up so fast I almost slipped, sitting on my butt… in the tub…. Shit did he spike my tea?

“Alastor? Is everything okay?” I asked loudly. Standing up carefully keeping three points of contact with the tub and the floor. I reached for a different robe he had given me, a soft red fluffy one, with (what I hope is faux ) fur along the collar and wrists.

Walking towards the bathroom door very carefully I cautiously reached for the shiny silver handle. Telling myself it’s okay but feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, and the handle was the top of the pit…

“Alastor?” I called out again, once more not getting an answer, bringing my hands to my mouth when I heard a large thump out there, trying to keeping my composure… oh what the hell they know I’m here already. I went to turn the handle what the door got pushed in, had I been able to see what happened I would’ve seen Alastor in his demonic form and it probably would’ve scared the actual shit outta me… but NOPE

I went to open the door when it got pushed open and a bright blue flash covered all of my vision and made me feel… kinda tried… but I’m awake, almost like I’m not in my body… it’s… really hard……. To keep my….. keep my eyes …………………………….………open…….

• You collapsed to the floor slowly breathing, in a trance, feeling some sharper claws pick you up bridal style, if you weren’t so dazed out you would see Alastor frozen in time… like a paused TV… unable to get to you, or subdue your captor. You still had enough conscience to hear a muffled voice talking to a phone~

“Yeah we got her… foil chains worke—“

“Get her ba-“

“…. Longer you take the quicker……….. flasher wears-“

• Last thing you could remember hearing before completing falling out was a radio scramble in your brain, the sound going from a hollow scraggly to a tight scraggle- like turning the tv in between stations………

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

AN: WELLLLL WHAT DID YA THINK???? Did you skip to down here or did you read the WHOLE thing. I really hope ya’ll like this, I’m so excited to make part 2, and maybe 3 or 4 depending on how far this goes.

Thank you to anyone who reads this and interacts in any way shape or form!!! Even if it’s just reading :) HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY AND REMEMBER

REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD BYYYYYYEEEEEE

#headcannons #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel oneshots #short story #part 2?

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 23 - Bath/shower

pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader

cw: mild injury descriptions, imf agent!reader, shower sex, handjobs, thigh fucking, penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 1618

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

It’s seemingly the biggest relief of your life, stepping under the hot spray of water. 

A few hours after the mission, the team had finally sprawled out. Ethan decided he’d stay in Paris just a few extra days, where he’d been holed up in a bleak little apartment a month prior to the mission. The place had been vacant while the team used the safehouse, now a little dusty and cold and dark, but its state was the least of your worries when you both stumbled inside.

Battered and sore, you both quietly made your way into the bathroom. Ethan turned the water on, the sudden jolt of it loud against the tub. Allowing the water some time to warm, you watched as he stripped in front of the mirror, watched as his eyes surveyed every splot of purple and yellow that littered his torso. He winced as he touched a particularly large bruise on the side of his ribs. You leaned in in the midst of stripping your own clothes, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade, right above a long, red cut. That scary fall he’d taken earlier.

“You took too many bumps,” you murmured with a frown, lightly dragging your fingers down his back. 

Ethan shuddered at the feeling, hands gripping the sink. An exhale.  “Got the job done. That’s all that matters now.”

“And getting some rest,” you remind him, stepping back to finish ripping your garments off. You reach for him when done, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him towards the steam.

Ethan groans when the water washes over him. You stand with him underneath the spray, letting the heat relieve your muscles. You watch him in front of you, as the water hits the top of his head and runs down his face. His eyes close, his long lashes sticking to his cheeks the same way his hair sticks to his forehead. You smile, pushing yours back, away from your face.

Soap in hand, Ethan brings you close, gently bringing it to your body. It smells nice—lavender, it must be. The scent fills your nostrils as Ethan brings it up close, running it up your chest and across your collarbone, over the curve of your shoulder, down your back. You moan softly at the pressure, more so when he sets the soap aside and just rubs the soapy bubbles into your skin with his hands. He watches intently as he touches you, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his fingers knead and massage your chest. Hands surprisingly soft against your skin, his touch climbs up to your neck. You wrap your hands around his wrists when he’s washing you there, and he takes the opportunity to lean in for a kiss.

The buzz of his touch and now his mouth on yours excites you underneath the hot water. You reach for the soap mid-kiss, rubbing it in between your hands and then setting it aside again to just massage at his skin the way he’s doing for you. 

You both stand there, hands exploring the dips and curves and muscles on each other’s bodies. Ethan pulls away from the kiss but his mouth lingers on the corner of yours, where he lets out a small groan at the feel of your hands. It’s then that his finger brushes against your hardened nipple, eliciting a groan out of you too, except yours comes out more high pitched and needy. Ethan’s touch travels south, down your abdomen and over your hip bone, where his fingers wrap around your skin there. 

The heat of the water has your bodies flushed and warm, and suddenly everything feels a bit too hot when Ethan brings you in even closer. You feel his cock against your skin then, hardening in between your bodies. 

Your hand slides down his chest and down his abs, and then your fingers gingerly wrap around his shaft. He hisses against your mouth, jerking forward into your grasp. You squeeze him a bit, getting a few whiney noises out of him that only further your desire. He breathes out, reaches for the soap again to continue slathering you in it, to make use of his hands while you stroke him. 

Ethan continues washing your body, his touch still gentle even as his breathing quickens. Matching his gentle touch, you slowly move your hand up and down, getting him fully hard in your fist. 

The soap he rubs all over you runs down, dripping from your chest and down your legs, leaving your body slick and slippery. Ethan moans and pushes you back against the cold tiled wall, head dipping down to nip at your neck. You angle your head to grant him access, sighing against the side of his head. His mouth is hot on your skin, almost as hot as the water, and it only adds to the coil in your stomach. You grind against him in anticipation, needy and desperate for more friction. 

You gasp as Ethan complies, feeling his cock poke in between your legs. You buck up against him, allowing him to slide in and out of your thighs. The bubbles running down your body help him slip and slide with ease, his hips jerking in and out of the crevice of your legs. He gasps against your neck, overcome with pleasure.

“Ethan,” you whine, rolling your hips. Your cunt suddenly throbs with need, clenching around nothing. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, you bring him in as close as can be. You’re careful not to slip, the soap still dripping and pooling at your feet.

Ethan’s cock continues sliding in between your legs, his heavy pants against your ear. You groan, back arching off the tiles as the pleasure trickles up your inner thighs and gathers in your abdomen. You feel your knees buckle, and Ethan seems to notice too, a strong hand wrapping around your arm to keep you steady. The other hand meets the wall beside your head to hold himself up, hips thrusting almost desperately. 

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his neck to coax him closer to his imminent orgasm but it’s like he suddenly changes his mind, groaning loudly and pulling back just as you gently bite in between his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, come here,” he mumbles breathlessly, using the grip on your arm to turn you around. Now facing the wall, legs slightly tense from having stood against it, you bite your lip and hold onto the grab bar beside you for leverage. His warmth is ever present behind you, his hips against your ass and then it happens quickly—he pushes inside you, the stretch delicious and easy. Your lashes flutter in pleasure, back arching again as your body takes him in, feeling him meet your deepest spots.

Your back aches slightly from the fighting just hours prior but Ethan bottoms out inside of you and suddenly all you can think of is the glow that washes over you, igniting your entire body in white hot bliss. 

You can’t see Ethan behind you but you can hear him—filthy moans and quiet murmuring and praise that you can’t quite make out under the spray of water. 

You’re sure you see stars when he starts to move, hips meeting your ass with every thrust, his fingers digging into your waist. The sound of skin on skin and the slap of water is loud over the spray, as are your sudden strangled noises. 

Ethan moans your name, and then a series of whines stuck in the back of his throat, and you’re sure he’s close. His composure is always impressive, and he’s usually the gentleman that always needs you to cum first, but his hips start sputtering this one time. He pulls out just as he starts spilling inside of you, some of it in and the rest landing in the mix of bubbles and soap on the tub floor. 

He gasps as he cums, hand coming up to the wall to steady himself again. Still, he guides his cock back inside you with the opposite hand to finish you off, biting his lip to suppress his moans. It’s seemingly impossible for him, and it’s your turn to gasp when the warmth of his whole body covers you, chest pressed to your back and lips next to your ear, where he continues spilling them.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear, and behind it. “That’s it.”

Your knuckles go white from gripping the bar, and you throw your head back, cheek to cheek with him as he sloppily starts his thrusts again. Ethan’s hands travel up your body this time, trailing your chest and all the other little sensitive spots he knows. 

It’s not long before he’s got you gasping and sputtering beneath him, body shaking and legs going weak. It’s like the glow coursing through you suddenly explodes, overtaking your senses, and then it’s all too much—the water, the soreness in your body, all the steam surrounding you. Ethan holds onto you as it takes you, strong arms around your middle once he’s pulled out again. You instantly turn in his arms to face him again, arms wrapping around his neck, exhausted. Face to face, you both pant, coming down from the high together. 

You shamefully have to take a seat in the tub to finish cleaning yourself off, legs feeling tingly, and Ethan playfully teases you about it. It’s all worth it, though, because then you’re wrapped in a towel and dried off and carried to bed, where you get to lay on Ethan’s chest and relish in the post-mission victory together.

#again again again sorry for the wait! #ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #kinktober 2023 #mission: impossible #mission: impossible fic #mission: impossible fanfic #* #tom cruise x reader

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

Bad girls are the sweetest

A/N: hi! I can’t believe that I’m still waiting for my shadowban to be lifted (on my main blog @rogerswifesblog ) it’s been a month!😩 anyway, here’s a little something for y’all, I hope you’ll enjoy reading! Read the warnings first! Leave some feedback and don’t forget to reblog!:3

Summary: The avengers are pursuing a new enemy. For months. But finally they manage to catch them.

Warnings: Blood, Injury, enemy!reader, Violence (choking, not in the nice way), Insult, SMUT, crying, Squirting, Fingering, DP, MEAN!steve, dom!steve, sub!reader, implied subspace

Pairing: mean!dom!Steve Rogers x villain!(sub)!reader

"left, left! Go left," you heard Captain America's voice carry through the corridors. He was right on your heels. You had no idea how this could have happened. You were always one step ahead. You always knew everything, what to do next, where to hide and where to go. Everything went according to plan. Always.

But how did it happen that they suddenly found your hideout?

Suddenly something knocked you to the ground. It was a hard hit right against your back. "Ah shit...", you whispered quietly as you tried to get up. But just then someone grabbed you roughly by the arms. "Let go of me! Let go!", you growled, trying to hit the person holding you.

Somehow you managed to get up.

As you stood, you hit the captain in the ribs with a fine elbow, causing him to gasp, but it wasn’t something that would bring him down. It probably only made him angrier than he already was. That started the messy fight between you.

Just a few moments later you were on the ground. Mr.America was sitting directly on your torso, his knees pinning your arms down as he pressed his shield to your throat. "Now show us your face nicely, you monster," he growled as he ripped your mask off of your face and tossed it aside.

"What...you're a…woman?" he muttered, visibly surprised. You took advantage of this to kick him in the back with your knees as he didn’t pay attention anymore. As he fell forward, you pushed his shield away and spun with him.

"Never heard of women being killers too? Let’s see…maybe I can have a chance...to kill Captain America?", you whispered as you pulled a blade from your belt. This you pressed to his jaw, drawing a bit of blood from a little cut.

"Too bad you have your helmet on...then I could see your face while I pressed the knife into their chest. Slow and agonizing," you whispered against his ear.

He could throw you off him. Effortlessly. But he didn't. Out of fear? Most likely. (Not really)

Just as you pointed the knife at his chest, something hit you in the shoulder. Then right in the torso. With a pained gasp, you fell off of Steve as electricity coursed through your body.

"I knew you had a very specific taste in women," you heard the blackwidow ay. But the next moment, your eyes fell shut as well.

"Yoo-hoo wake up," you heard someones voice, as if through cotton. Someone tapped lightly against your cheek. Which made your head fall to the side.

You were sitting on a chair. Your arms were bound to the backrests. So was your upper body. Your legs. Everything possible was tied to the chair. It definitely wasn't comfortable.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Your gaze fell on the table in front of you. On the hands, which were leaning on the table.

"Where...where am I...", you mumbled.

"Ah, not so cocky and sassy anymore, huh? I'm sure the electric shocks weren't the most pleasant thing," Stark mocked you.

"You know, everyone thought we were tracking another Hydra agent, but I had a feeling it was someone else. A murderous woman. How many kills were there? Fourteen? Fifteen?" he continued talking. The corners of your mouth twitched upward.

"Twenty-eight," you spoke quietly as you lifted your gaze and looked directly into Stark's eyes. You saw the startled, as well as frightened, twinkle in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide.

He slowly straightened up. "Hmm, anyway-if you're not Hydra, then why are you doing it? Who told you to do it?"

You remained silent.

You spent the next half hour in silence as well. No matter what questions fell from Stark's lips. For the last fifteen minutes, you didn't even look at him. (Which definitely frustrated him.)

"All right. Have a nice night then," with those words he left the room. The metallic grips around your body opened. Slowly, you stood up. The room was very...well, definitely not homey. There was nothing. Only the table, your chair and an uncomfortable looking, small bed. You thought Stark liked to show off his richness.

Apparently not in the cells. Or whatever that was.

Slowly you sat down on the bed, sighing.

That's how the next few days went.

Tony Stark tried to get something out of you, but couldn't. Nothing. At least they brought you fresh and comfortable clothes everyday. Besides that the bathroom was also amazing, the shower head had great pressure and the water was hot. After months of hiding it was like heaven to finally be able to take a hot shower.

"Okay, Stark, maybe she needs a woman-to-woman talk," a female voice sounded from the ceiling. After that, the red-haired woman came into the room. Romanoff.

Sighing heavily, Stark stood up. "I don't have the nerve for this anymore. You have her all to yourself," he spoke as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

You looked back at the table again. Natasha sat down on the chair in front of you. "Y/N, right?" slowly you looked up, Natasha had a small smirk on her lips. "It's not getting any better for you. Either you talk or you stay here-" "and if I talk I get put in another cell? Thanks, then I can stay here too. It’s actually quite nice," you shrugged and looked away.

She was silent for a moment. "No. They can help you. you just have to say why you did it-who told you to do it. I wasn't always an avenger either," she spoke quietly. "You were in the RedRoom, I know...I heard your name a lot. Everyone knows you, Romanoff. But now you can go. I won't say anything. I don’t give a shit about your sappy story"

Rolling her eyes, she leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She remained sitting like that. For twenty minutes, probably thinking she’d be able to make me talk with her sharp gaze.

"All right, have it your way," she too left the room and you watched her go.

Standing outside the room was Steve and Natasha talked to him for a moment. What about you didn't know. Nor did you hear their conversation. "She's really not saying anything, Steve. Maybe you should go inside?" suggested Natasha. He, however, shook his head.

"I don't want to talk to that psychopath-bitch. She tried to stick a knife in my chest-and explained how she’d do it, too. So I certainly don't want to talk to her," he countered, with a stubborn tone. "Besides, I don't think there's anything good in her. She seems really vicious. Not like you or Bucky. She did everything because she wanted to-" "Steve, we don't know. Maybe she was threatened, or maybe she really didn't have a choice. Come on. Give her a chance," Natasha interrupted him. Annoyed, he looked at her. His jaw still having the remains of a slight scratch, which was almost healed. Still, you could see that there had been an injury there.

Shaking her head, Natasha walked away.

The next day, Natasha came back to your room. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" she asked. Every day they asked the same question a few times a day.

When you left the room you were handcuffed. A sly grin formed on your lips as you walked past Steven Grant Rogers. Most of the time he wasn't there when you left the room, not wanting to see you at any point. "I see your pretty face has recovered....by the way, you look much better without that helmet. Would almost be too bad to hurt that face...almost," you added quietly as you walked right past him.

Unexpectedly, Steve grabbed your arms and pushed you roughly against the wall. A painful escaped your lips as your back hit the wall, hard. Automatically, Romanoff grabbed his arms, as did Stark, who had been standing close.

"You better shut your mouth, bitch," he hissed close to your face. It was apparently a rare sight to see Captain America like that, as Natasha and Tony looked surprised and maybe even a bit frightened. "Anything else, Captain? Are you locking me up? Nothing new," you growled back, not wanting to give him any satisfaction by scaring you. Even though you felt like your heart was about to spring out of your chest. And Steve definitely heard your increased heartbeat.

One of his hands reached for your neck. "Hey hey Steve. Take it easy," Tony now interfered as he tried to pull him away, again.

You felt the grip tighten. It was hard for you to swallow, to breathe. "Trust me, there are a lot worse things that could happen to you, little one," he growled.

"FRIDAY just told me you needed my he-Steve!l what the fuck are you doing," the Winter soldier's voice rang out. He pulled Rogers away from you forcefully, as he was the only one strong enough who could actually overpower Steve.

Immediately you gasped for air and slid down the wall. Carefully you caressed your neck with your hand. Barnes pulled Rogers away with him, hitting the back of his head several times with his human hand. >>You're such an idiot, you know that? Really an idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. She may be a killer but she’s still a lady<<

That day you were not interrogated, but instead moved to another cell/interrogation room. A more comfortable one. You definitely wouldn’t tell them anything.

The next day, Stark came to your room. "So, do you want to say something? Come on, we'll help you. I promise. Even Barnes is a free man now," he spoke as he sat down.

Silently, you crossed your arms and turned your head away.

"Alright...are you alright? About...you know? Yesterday?" he said more cautiously now. You scoffed. "Because of what? Ah you're talking about dear Captain America almost strangling an inmate? I'm fine. Now get out of here," you hissed.

Tony said nothing more, just nodded quietly, before leaving the room again.

You were alone until the evening. Only Natasha came by briefly and brought you something to eat. You didn't really talk, but it was relaxing not to be bombarded with questions.

After you had eaten quietly, you laid down. But you could not sleep. You felt like you were being watched. You were aware that there were cameras everywhere, but it was different. It’s like…you could feel a presence.

Slowly, however, your eyes fell closed-but not for long, as the sound of the door handle jolted you out of your nap.

It was too late for questioning. The light were off. What the hell?

"Who is it?", you asked into the darkness. No answer.

Suddenly, someone stopped in front of you. Immediately the smell of his aftershave filled your nose. warmth spread through your body "Rogers," you said harshly. "What do you want a-" before you could finish speaking you felt his hand around your neck again, making you gasp quietly.

It wasn't easy to intimidate you, but he managed. Especially since you were alone now. No one was here to hold Steve back.

Fuck.

"Not so smart anymore, huh? That's good...you should start being obedient…you're such a brat," he murmured close to your ear, his grip wasn’t as hard as the last time.

You tried to kick him right in his crotch with your knee, but he dodged.

"Brat, behave or you won’t like what’s coming," he hissed. You tried to back away from him, but this caused Rogers to press you tighter against the wall. You were still sitting on the bed, while he was towering over you. Using his strength and position to intimidate you.

"did you hear me?" he growled as he lifted your head a little. "I hate you," you croaked as hatefully as possible. As his grip grew even stronger, you whimpered. Now you were getting scared. You couldn't breathe. His grip was too strong. Painful even.

Your hand went to his wrist, causing him to hold it a little looser. "Behave." He hissed those words in your face. You felt his breath against your skin. Your lips. You felt goosebumps on your skin.

"Nev-never," you croaked.

Steve made an unexplainable noise. Similar to a growl. You felt hot. And cold. Both. A tension built between you two. "Someone needs to teach you some fucking manners," he growled so close to your lips you could nearly taste him. "You can try. Captain," you spit back.

He pressed his lips hard to yours in a bruising kiss-almost violent kiss, too much teeth, completely stealing your breath. His teeth came into contact with yours. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Not even close. It was hungry, desperate.

Your hands gripped his shirt, holding onto him like he was the last thing holding you above. His hand slid from your neck to your hair, grabbing it harshly.

Briefly, he let go of you, stepping away from you to look at you.

"Strip. Now," Steve spoke as he took another step back, crossing his arms over his chest.

You slowly stood up, but did nothing. A small smirk on your lips. "Fine...then I'll help you," with those words he grabbed your shirt, ripping it in two. Surprised, you sucked in a breath, while the two pieces of clothing fell to the floor. This made Steve laugh in satisfaction.

"Take your clothes off or everything will end up in two pieces," you hesitated briefly, but when he reached for your pants you immediately unzipped them and pulled them down as fast as you could, just leaving them on the floor.

"That's good…such a good girl. Very good," Steve spoke as he took another step closer. Gently, he caressed your cheek with his fingertips, then slowly down to your neck, along the bruise he caused days before. “I'm sorry my sweet girl, but you just…were such a brat…made me lose my temper...I didn't mean to hurt you, sweetheart," he spoke softly as he began to spread light kisses on your neck.

A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips. Then a soft whimper.

And Steve could get used to it.

"Now how about you get on your knees and do something useful with that mouth of yours?" he spoke in a deep voice that made your blood run hot. Slowly, you nodded. Your hands slowly stroked along his chest to the zipper of his jeans. You opened it slowly.

"And if I don't?", you murmured against his neck, letting your lips gently touch his skin. "That's what I was hoping for," with those words he slowly sat down on your bed. Not saying a single word.

Confused, you turned to face him, not understanding what he was doing.

You thought he’d maybe…fuck your face or something? Why was he sitting down? Would he ignore you now?

He pulled you closer to him, but threw you over his lap the next moment. Your cheek was buried in the pillow while he lightly stroked your butt. “If you say red, I’ll stop. Remember this,” “Okay, but why-“ Suddenly, a smack. "Ah-what-", the next blow didn't let me finish. “Count it sweetheart or we’ll start over.” You nodded quickly, counting the third slap, when his palm touched your ass. Fuck, his hands were huge. And he really wasn’t gentle with you.

Tears filled your eyes by the fifth hit, while your sobbed out your words. He didn’t go easy on you. Not at all. And you could tell he enjoyed it, by the feeling of his hard dick pressing against your hip. Your skin would probably be bruised tomorrow but…but it felt so good. You could feel your pussy throb. The pain only added to the pleasure. Fuck.

“Mm, doing so good, sweetheart. Taking your punishment so well”, he mumbled after the ninth one. At this point you were crying. The tears were streaming down your face into the pillow beneath you, but Steve didn’t care about it. He even enjoyed it. Very much so, feeling as his hard dick was throbbing against your hip. Trapped beneath the tight material of his jeans.

Your ass felt sore and tingly everywhere. You wouldn’t be able to sit tomorrow. God, it was so painful. And yet you felt how much your pussy was dripping with need.

Then you felt his lips on the sore spot. A filthy kiss, which made you sigh quietly into the pillow. His fingers stroked along the wet spot of your panties. Lightly he pulled on it, watching your pulsing cunt before letting it hit your skin again, making you jump in surprise. You let out sounds of strangled pleasure: a gasping, keening, moan. You were losing control over yourself and Steve was enjoying all of it.

At this point Steve felt how his dick leaked pre-cum, dampening his boxershorts, while he rutted lightly against your hip. The damp spot getting larger with every second.

"Why do the prettiest ones have to be so…evil?" he murmured against your skin. A giggle escaped you. Why, you didn't know, but you felt your blood rush to your cheeks, making you blush an unbelievably deep shade of red.

He rubbed with two of his fingers along your pantie clothed slit, pushing slightly into your wet hole, making you whine into the pillow.

"Please."

As that one word escaped your lips he stopped moving his hand. "How quick you’re learning, sweetie. You’re my perfect sweet girl, aren’t you?" You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was grinning, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him. Feel something.

He pushed your panties aside and let one of his fingers glide between your wet folds. You could hear your own arousal and the squelching sound while he rapidly pumped his thick finger inside your throbbing pussy. You moaned softly into the sheets, finally feeling him stretching your hole. "Fuck," you gasped. "Tz tz, language, you want another spanking?" immediately you shook your head, whimpering.

"Please-don’t- just…just...touch me...please...more," you continued to beg. This time you didn't care anymore. You wanted him. All of him.

Steve added a second finger and started stroking over your sensitive spot. A squelching sound with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the quiet moans leaving your lips. "Mmmm...you feel so good...I can't wait to fuck you," he mumbled, kneading your sore ass cheek with the other hand. His words elicited goosebumps on your skin.

For a moment he stopped moving his hand, just rubbing along your velvet walls. When he started rubbing your g-spot your whole body trembled, especially your thighs, while you tightly grabbed the pillow underneath you. The pressure sends a shock of heat through your system.

"Mmm...you're so ready for me already. I bet I could just fuck into you ...effortlessly…and even if I couldn’t…I’m sure you wouldn’t mind getting it a bit rougher, Hm?" he spoke as he massaged the spot inside you, making you mewl pleasurably. "Baby, close your mouth. you’re drooling," only now did you realize your mouth was open. Immediately you closed it with a >click< sound of your teeth. Once again you felt blood rush to your cheeks. You couldn’t believe how much control he had over you, just by using his finders. You should feel embarrassed by the lack of control over yourself but you couldn’t even think about that right now.

"I asked you a question" "Yes, please...please move...fuck me-just do whatever you want", you sobbed, trying to nice your hips against his fingers. At this point you stopped listening to whatever he was saying. The only thing that mattered was for you to get off, especially with him pressing against your soft spot.

"You have to promise me something, Sweetheart. Tomorrow at the interrogation, you will answer all the questions. You will talk, baby, yeah?", Before he had even finished talking, you were already nodding vigorously. You felt humiliated being this needy, but you hadn’t been touched like this in a while and Steve seemed to know how to please a woman.

A chuckle came from Steve. "Perfect," he began to move his hand quickly, fucking you with his thick digits, while your arousal leaked out of your cunt onto his lap.For a moment his fingers left your channel empty and he watched your pussy throb for a moment, before licking over his fingers. "How sweet an evil bitch like you can taste," he bummed as he took his fingers in his mouth, slurping loudly.

Steve let his spit slicked fingers glide over your tight rim. The wet finger at your hole made you twitch slightly. He started rubbing at your hole. Your whole body shuddered feeling him slowly press into you.

You looked back at him for a moment, feeling how desperate you were for your release. At this point you felt overwhelmed with everything that was happening around you. With what he was doing to you. While his hands roamed over your body, you couldn’t stop the moans escaping your lips.

Then you felt the other fingers press once again into your waiting pussy, hitting the special spot with a hard thrust. Especially when he stimulated your other hole you opened my mouth in a silent moan, clutching the sheets in your fists. Steve's gaze was drawn to where his fingers were disappearing into your holes, sucking him in.

"Please Steve, please...I...", you tried to say something, but nothing besides moaning left your lips. Then his other hand slid to your clit and this was enough for you. Unexpectedly a shuddering orgasm rushed over you, a blinding pleasure washed over you, making you sob out Steve’s name. Your release squirted onto Steve lap, drenching his pants.

You never had such an orgasm before. Never felt so overwhelmed like you did right now. For a moment you couldn’t even open your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed how much your legs were shaking.

"...Hey sweetie, come back to me...baby...", Steve's voice sounded like you'd have cotton around your head. You felt so incredibly light. Slowly, you stopped giggling. Giggling? Why were you giggling? "That was really hot, you know, my pretty girl?" he murmured into your neck. "Did you know you could do that?" he asked with a certain pride in his voice.

Slowly he laid you down on the bed. When he got up you saw the big wet spot on his pants. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, probably pairing them scarlet, not being able to meet his gaze.

But you heard his belt buckle being opened and falling to the floor, making you lift your gaze to watch him for a moment, while he pushed his jeans and boxers down. Enough for his hard dick to spring free. He was big enough for his dick not to curve upwards, it just hung down, even in a completely erect state. It looked as thick as his wrist, with lots of veins showing and glistening from all the precum he was leaking.

You licked over your lips, watching as he stepped closer right before you, grabbing his cock with one hand and stroking his length. The amount of pre-cum made his movements smooth while he pumped his dick, moaning quietly into the darkness.

“Come on pretty girl, on your knees”, he mumbled, already helping you sit up on the bed. You sat back on your heels, sliding closer to the edge, letting his tip rub along your lips, leaving the taste of his pre-cum behind.

He watched as you licked his taste of your lips, before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him what you wanted. Please him. Let him fuck your face. Let him use you. Whatever he wanted to call it. You just wanted to feel him.

“You look so pretty like that…bet you’re even prettier with my cum all over your face”, moaned the man, pushing his dick between your lips and thrusting deep inside you, before slowly pulling away. He repeated this a few times, always hitting the back of your throat with his tip. He stopped for a moment. His heavy cock throbbed in your mouth, your tongue licking over the veins you could feel on the underside of his length.

Steve watched as you suckled and licked happily at his cock, like it was your only purpose. And maybe it was.

“My sweet girl. You just needed a cock to start behaving like a good girl, huh?”, he mumbled in a degrading manner, but you didn’t care. You probably should feel humiliated or some other kind of degraded but truthfully…you loved it. If you could stay like that, you would. Just being his good girl. His toy. His cumdump. Whatever he wanted you to be.

Shoving his dick once again deeper into your mouth, you moaned around him feeling so full. You tried to move your head a bit faster, trying to get him deeper into your throat but it only made you gag. Steve moaned, feeling your wet mouth, especially when you started fondling his balls. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting deeper into you, making you deep throat him.

You could already tell your jaw would be killing you tomorrow, but all that mattered was making Steve feel good.

Steve grabbed your hair roughly fucking harscher into your mouth feeling his climax approaching. Before he could shoot his load in your mouth, he quickly pulled out, starting to stroke himself quickly, till he was painting your face with hot ropes of thick cum.

After coming down from his high, he let go of your hair and also pulled his pants back up, tucking himself in. “Such a good girl. You just needed someone to take care of you”, he grinned slightly, before cupping your face with his hands and massaging his cum into your cheeks and smearing onto your bottom lip, repeating it after you licked it away, humming quietly. You seemed content and even somehow relaxed.

He liked seeing you like this.

Especially coated with his cum. Being marked.

“My pretty girl”, he whispered, making you nod unknowingly. He grabbed one piece of the ripped shirt and wiped away the remains of his release, while you looked at him from under your eyelashes.

He leaned down to you, pressing his Lips softly onto yours. The kiss was different from the one before. A little slower and gentle. Very intimate.

"Get some sleep. You need rest before tomorrow's questioning. And keep the promise or your next punishment won’t bring you to an orgasm," he breathed against your lips, a smirk creeping onto his face. He moved away a little to give you a kiss on the forehead, then pulled the blanket over your body.

Exhausted, you didn't even have the strength to protest, just nodding silently.

At the door, however, he stopped again. It was dark, but you saw him grinning. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart" "Night, Steve...", then he closed the door behind him.

The next morning you were taken to the bathroom by Natasha to get ready for the day.

When you came back you sat down in the chair and waited for Tony, who usually tried to question you.

The door opened and someone sat down in front of you. Somehow you felt a shift in the air. A tension. "Who hired you?", you heard the smirk in his voice.

Immediately you raised your head.

Since when did Steve question you?

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #villain reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #smut #chris evans character fanfiction

[emeraldborealis]

Galaxy of Dying Stars

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x FEM!reader

TW//CW: Hurt/comfort, mention of cancer, reader has moles and freckles but no other descriptions used, a lot of star and galaxy metaphors, established relationship, no use of y/n. Damnation Leon.

A/N: A dear friend of mine requested me to use Damnation Leon with this idea and I had to oblige my muse.

Words: 1,850

Moles ran in the family, beauty marks that would pop up all over your skin, mapping out eras of your life, four in particular meant a lot to you on your right side, forming a rectangle, with two on your hip and two on your ribs.

You'd had them since you were little, they'd been there for as long as you could remember. They were a part of you, something you always associated with yourself.

Moles and freckles were the constellations that mapped out who you were. Some even believed moles appeared in places your lover kissed you often in your past life.

Cancer also ran in the family, and with two of your beloved moles growing bigger you knew you had to get them removed and biopsied.

But who were you without the constellations of the years of your life?

If not just a galaxy of dying stars.

Each one just another ticking time bomb until the whole thing would eventually collapse.

It was superficial, they weren't integral to your personality or who you were as a person, but they were still a map of everything you've been. Who you were when they first showed up.

The appointment was easy to schedule, just one call, that's all. But it felt like ordering the casket for the little girl you were when you first noticed them there. Back when you were so full of dreams, and the ambitions to achieve them, to reach that unreachable star.

The process of the removal was just as easy, some numbing and a blade carefully wielded in your dermatologist's hand, a simple band aid and the reminder to keep it clean, use Vaseline on it if you didn't want it to scar, and not to pick at it. Results of the biopsy and testing from the lab would take about a week.

It was such an easy process, so why did it hurt? Why did it feel like this?

Was this what a dying star felt like? Was this the beginning of burning out? Or were you already long past gone? Just waiting for the light to vanish from an already dead star.

"What's going on with you, love?" Leon's voice suddenly broke you from your thoughts, looking over to him from where you sat on the couch. You hadn't noticed him join you, wondering how long he'd been there.

"Just thinking." You were quick to brush it off, feeling too silly to actually explain or express the issue, and you knew it probably wasn't cancer. Didn't want to worry him. Even still, the wait to find out was still agonizing.

"About?" He prompted you to continue, to explain. Moving closer to you on the couch, draping his arm around you, rubbing your arm and shoulder.

"I got some moles removed today, possibly cancer. But don't worry- it's probably not. And not serious if it is." You explained, playing with your hands, looking down at your speckled skin, the peppering of color, too many little dots to count, but moles were special, bigger. Astronavigation.

"So are you worried about it being cancer?" He seemed a bit nervous, you could tell by the way he pulled you closer, glancing in the way of the kitchen, thinking of a familiar burn soothing his tongue, sliding down his throat to numb everything down.

He didn't like the thought of something like this. Something being a potential catalyst to losing you.

"Not really, I just... sort of miss them. I know that's stupid, but I've always thought of my moles and freckles like constellations across my body." Your words helped take off his edge, helping calm his racing thoughts.

"And now you've lost some stars?" He understood the sentiment, why it would feel like losing a piece of yourself. 

Even without the few moles, Leon was sure he could navigate the celestial plane of your body without a single chart, he could never truly get lost. Not when he knew it so well.

"Yeah, feels incomplete, like something's missing." Something in your internal gravitational pull felt shifted, like things inside you were spinning in a new orbit. Making up for the newly burnt out stars.

"Have you heard the theory that moles are where your lover or soulmate kissed you in your past life?" He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to yours, and in a moment you were spinning from something completely different than a loss of proper internal gravitational pull.

"It's a popular theory. But I'm not following." Blue eyes that could put any galactical marvel to shame seemed to suck you in like a black hole, bringing you closer to what you knew would one day tear you apart.

"I gave them to you once, and as long as you love them I'll give them to you in every lifetime. Maybe next time they'll be able to stay for longer." He explained, pushing you to be laying on the couch. "Which ones were removed?" His voice was soft, but it was laced with something that reminded you how quickly the cold space between you could quickly turn into a blaze.

"The one's on my side, on my ribs." He took your breath away with little difficulty, a gateway to salvation. Something far more tantalizing than the sun, moon or stars. Nothing less than heaven.

"I loved those ones. I know why I gave them to you in our last lifetime together." He gently raised your shirt, folding it up, keeping it over your chest to preserve your modesty. He looked at your body with such reverence, like it was something to worship. Like it was a deity whose altar he would kneel at until his knees cracked, until he himself turned to dust, coming from and returning to the stars.

He lowered his head, bowing in awe to your divinity. His lips gently pressing to the band aids, kissing them with searing hot lips. He treated you like you were more than just a descendent of stardust, instead like you were the whole damn galaxy. A supernova couldn't hold a candle to you, a cosmic wonderland was the only thing he could think to compare you to.

"I think in your next life I should add a few new additions too." He whispered like a prayer against your skin, his hot breath fanning over you, breathing into you new life, new sparks. Gaseous nebulae imploding into new stars inside of you.

"And preserve my favorite astronomical destinations." His lips trailed over you, kissing your already existing moles, the one on your hand, the few on your face, neck, shoulders, arms. Everywhere. "I was so smart to worship you in entirety in our last life together."

Finally he brought his lips to yours, and in that moment it was like galaxies colliding, bursting with destruction and new life. He filled all of your senses, breathing him in like a psychedelic. He was seven times more addictive.

Your hands trailed up his chest, gently holding his face you brought him in closer, your thumb gently brushing over one of his moles. Holding him to your lips until your lungs burned in search of oxygen, only parting from him momentarily.

His moles next to yours were proof of how brightly your love burned for the other in another lifetime. It must have been blinding, needing the constellations of the marks you'd leave on one another to navigate it.

You'd map each other out all over again, a chart to follow of how to love the other the next time fate brings you both back together. An endless gravitational pull of two souls meant to be.

"It's not cancer." He whispered in your ear. "I promise. It's not cancer. The marks of love between us could never be the thing to hurt you. It's not cancer."

"I know. But I still needed to get them tested and removed, just in case." You tangled your fingers into his hair, gently massaging his scalp with your nails, making his eyes drift closed in enjoyment. A reassuring gentle touch. "It wasn't cancer last time, it won't be this time either."

"I love you. And I need to believe that our life transcends this one. I need to know that there was peaceful love between us once, and that after all the hell of this life, there will be peaceful love between us again. I need to keep the world safe for the next time we meet." Leon lowered himself down onto you, laying atop you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"I believe it does, and that belief is all that matters right? Isn't that what faith is? The hope of things unseen?" Wrapping your arms around him you held him close, cradling him against you. Fingers drifting up and down his clothed back, stopping each place you knew he had moles.

His body was just as perfectly mapped out to you with astronavigation as yours was to him. Known almost better by the other than themselves.

"I can't keep fighting if it's not to be with you again. I can't keep losing people if it's not for the promise of holding you for eternity." His sigh was deep, releasing so much tension from his body.

"I know. I know, Leon." Placing a tender kiss to his temple he let out a soft hum, sinking further into you. His weight was never crushing, only ever comforting, like the warm blankets wrapped around you on a cold morning.

"I'm not losing you. Nothing is allowed to take you from me. I couldn't take it. Not you. Anything but you. Me, but never you." He wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you like a lifeline. The loss of his idol of worship would make him lose faith all over again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Leon. It's not cancer. Remember? The tests will come back and nothing will be wrong. It'd be too cruel for me to go through everything I have, suffered with all my afflictions, just to get cancer too. So, it's not. Besides, if it is, I'm tough. I could beat it, if only for you." The reassuring words were spoken in equal parts for him and you.

"You're right. You could beat it. Strongest person I've ever known, that's who you are." He kissed your shoulder gently, nibbling on your skin, taking it between his teeth, pinching you, making you almost yelp.

"You don't know yourself half as well as I do then, because if you did, it'd be a self earned title." Grabbing his head by his hair you gently tugged him to look at you. "No biting."

"You're one to talk." He leaned in, kissing your nose. "Can't ever get you to stop gnawing on me."

"What can I say? I'm starstruck, pulled in by you, no other gravity for me, brought to my knees from my need to collide with you." Kissing his lips always made things feel better, like stars aligning. It was a mutual feeling. A mutual need to be together until the galaxy itself burned out.

In this life, and every life down the road, you'd always be pulled together, your stars aligning over and over again. Two souls incapable of existing without the other. 

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon x reader #x reader #oneshot #reader insert #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil fanfic #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The cold truth

Artful Dodger one shot. Jack Dawkins x fem reader

Before Fagin's return, before Belle, before it all there was y/n. The first woman to break Jack's heart. He kept her portrait in a silver locket, the chain hanging on his bed. One day, long after her operation Belle sits in the hospital going over medical text when Hetty comes into her. Seeing the locket in Belle's hand she tells her the story.

"She was a lovely girl, a nurse here. Odd though because she was married. So many of us live a solitary life but not y/n. She was such a wonderful spirit. I'm convinced she could make the dead dance with her joy. None of us could have known. Jack was the first to notice the changes, they were so small at first. Y/n had always had the most beautiful red hair, it was so thick she could hardly contain it and would have it tied several plates pinned about her head. I remember Jack coming to me one morning, the spirals were gone. It was all chopped off up to her shoulders. Y/n wouldn't tell us what happened.

Then it was the bruises. Poking out of her dress on her neck, her arms you know. She just kept saying she was clumsy, but we spent hours with her and none of us ever saw her even trip. Jack tries to ask her once but she brushed him off.

I don't know if it was her original joy or the subsequent lack of it, but the doctor seemed fixated on her. He needed to know what was happening.

One time he bumped into her, knocking her ribs and the touch sent y/n to the floor. Shocked by the reaction Jack took her aside and checked her over. Y/n had a bruise that covered her whole left side. Angry and red, purple, blue. Still she wouldn't tell us a thing. Jack took it upon himself to look after her. Noting that she would often work a whole day without a bite of food he began making extra lunch and sitting with her.

He would talk about her when she wasn't around. Retelling her jokes and talking of her beauty.

Of course we know now that it was her husband. He cut her hair off with an axe. Said she was too vain about her appearance and a nurse didn't need long hair. The beatings were worse. He would attack her for any little mistakes. Her ribs? That was because she had burnt dinner one night. He was an awful man. We only found out because Jack found her wandering the streets on his way home for the cat and bagpipes. He had kicked her out of their house. I don't remember what for, but Jack found her and he took care of her. By then the only time I saw her happy was when they were sat together. She told him everything and he promised to help her. Said she could have a bed in our nurses quarters. She even appeared happy for a while, the two of em did.

A week or so later she went home to collect her things, convinced her husband would be at work. He wasn't.

She managed to get back here. I'll never know how she made it. One broken leg, a fractured elbow and a knife in her gut. She did though, she came stumbling in. I think I screamed when I saw her. Jack rushed her into the theatre, but this was about a year before you came along. There was nothing he could do with the knife wound. That damn blade was wide enough to take down an elephant. Ripped her up so badly inside. She couldn't breathe and the blood was pouring into her lungs.

Jack tried and tried until she asked him to stop. Exhausted and covered in her blood, Jack was ready to collapse himself. She held tight to his hand and looked into his eyes.

"No, no y/n, you gotta fight this. You can't die." Jack begged her.

"Jack, I have to go. I'm sorry. You can't save me." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Jack held on to her. I had hoped his will alone might make God knit her back together. My faith took a knock that day and I'm not afraid to admit it. The look on that boys face when they insisted on taking her away. Tim had to hold him to keep Jack from following her body to the grave.

We all changed after that day. The first time one of our own bad died so brutally. Jack wasn't the same. He threw himself into his work, his competition with Sneed.

You know there are times when he still visits her grave. Maybe that's why he was so desperate to save you, Lady Belle. Jack's poor heart couldn't take another love being ripped away from him. It's a lovely portrait of her. " She finishes by glancing over Belle's shoulder at the lockett.

"he's in prison, so you think, do you think you could take me to her grave?" Belle asks.

It's a small wooden cross with her name carved into it.

"we couldn't afford a real headstone. " Hetty explains. Belle bent to touch the wood, running her fingers over the carved wood.

"What happened to the husband?"

"Got himself hanged for his troubles three weeks after. It took three hours for him to die. Come on now miss we should get you back before you're missed." Hetty reminded her.

"of course. I shall bring y/n flowers tomorrow."

"very good Milady "

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins #the artful dodger x reader #the artful dodger #lady belle fox #jack Dawkins and belle #thomas brodie sangster

[racheloleo]

Cave of Wonders

Zevlor x Tav, NSFW

Zevlor smiled to himself as he saw the others relax and enjoy their evenings. Alfira strummed idly, giggling with Lakrissa about their personal victories over the goblins and what kind of tale the bard should weave through song. Cal and Lia continued to rib Rolan, who had had perhaps too much wine and was ready to blast his siblings backward, if only to stop their hooting laughter. Bex and Danis snuggled by the fire, petting and whistling to the camp's canine companion, a scruffy white hound named Scratch.

The goblin threat had been eradicated, thanks to an intrepid band of heroic adventurers lead by a human woman names Tavalia. Gods knew there was no one else with the wherewithal to corral the rag-tag team: a Githyank warrior, The Blade of the Frontiers, a secretive cleric, a former archmage, a tiefling attack dog, and a foppish vampire. Zevlor shook his head; how she did it, he couldn't begin to fathom.

As the revelry continued, the tiefling commander took one last sip from his goblet before setting it down. He nodded in farewell to Halsin, the archdruid the adventurers had rescued from the goblin encampment, and made his way back towards the Emerald Grove, away from Tavalia's camp. Zevlor had a few more crates to finish packing before morning, and he could use a moment to himself after all of the noise and merriment of the evening's celebrations.

Zevlor quietly walked through the gate of the Grove and made his way through The Hollow towards the chambers that had been his during the refugees' stay. Rocks crunched under his boots as he strode confidently to his quarters. A few druids were up and about, but the place still felt strangely still after all the chanting had stopped. Kagha had been in league with the Shadow Druids, it had seemed, until Tavalia had talked some sense into her and the interim archdruid put an end to the Rite of Thorns.

He walked through the stone passageway, the door closing behind him. He replenished a few candles before carefully doffing his armor. Gods, but it felt good to have that weight off of his shoulders, literally and figuratively. He stretched and flexed his back, taking pleasure in the little pops and cracks that told the story of a loosening body.

Zevlor let out a soft groan. He found an empty crate and brought it to his desk, where he began to slowly and carefully pack away his many books for the next leg of their journey. The Shadow-Cursed Lands, gods, how was he ever going to -

A gentle rumble of the stone door marked the entry of another. Quickly and quietly, Zevlor set down the book he had been holding and reached for his crossbow, eyes on the entryway to his sanctum. He heard the stone door shut again, and a rustling sounds drew his attention. He deftly loaded the crossbow and positioned himself near an alcove, the perfect spot to lodge an attack should one also be aimed at him.

A shadow grew on the walls in the candlelight, soft and feminine.

"Zevlor?" A tremulous voice called out, the shadow edging closer to the commander's lair.

Zevlor almost dropped the crossbow. "Tavalia?" He asked, shocked and shaken, horrified that he could have so easily pulled the trigger against the hero of the hour had she not made her presence known.

"Yes, it's me. Did I startle you? And please, again, call me Tav. Everyone else does, there's no need to stand on ceremony." She walked slowly into the soft light of the numerous candles Zevlor had lit not but half an hour before.

She was nude, he saw, his mind not comprehending. Or, nearly nude, it appeared that she maintained some cover for the sake of modesty, but only around her hips; her breasts were bared to the world. No, not to the world: bared for him. He shook his head, still confused.

Tav's eyes adjusted to the lighting, scanning the room. When her gaze fell upon him, her lips curled into a smile that reached to her eyes, so happy was she to find him.

His body was in a state of panic, wanting to avert his gaze and drink her in all at once. Why was she here? And nearly naked? She didn't seem hurt or afraid, there should be no reason for this state of undress, unless -

The rustling. She had removed her garments after she had entered his quarters. The confidence made him wet his lips, blood pulsing in his face and below his belt. He could not deny that she was a beautiful woman, that he had not thought of what she might feel like in his arms, soft and warm and spent, but this...

She closed the gap between them, her hands alighting carefully on his shoulders. Her bare feet had been almost soundless in the dirt. She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling with the small flames that lined the room. Tav leaned into Zevlor, her mouth grazing his neck, as she whispered his name against his flesh. Small goose-pimples rose along the back of his neck.

His hands moved to her hips, and he felt them, full and round beneath his touch. Her skin was softer than he could have ever dreamed, and he was suddenly very aware of his talons, hard and sharp at the tips of his fingers. He made to move them away, but she caught him and held him to her. "No," she whispered gently, still nuzzling against his neck. "Please, stay with me. I have imagined this a thousand times, and yet nothing could compare to the here and now." The tip of her tongue delicately traced the muscles in his neck, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Tavalia, please, do not misunderstand me. You are a very beautiful woman, but I am nothing but an old, disgraced paladin. Surely there are others far more worthy to share your bed than the likes of me?"

She hummed quietly, her nose gently caressing the underside of his jaw, the hand that once held his now at his cheek. Her thumb carefully followed the ridge pattern of his cheekbone, and he could feel her smile against his skin.

"Says you," she murmured. "I can freely choose whom I have in my bed, yes, and I can confidently say that I have desired no one else since meeting you. You are strong, courageous, empathetic, and handsome. You have bewitched me, Hellrider, and I only hope that you will have me as well." The thought lingered in the air, both carefully waiting to see what the other would do.

Zevlor's heart was likely to fly out of his chest, and he had no doubt that Tavalia could feel that, just like she could no doubt feel his arousal pressed against her thigh. He sighed slowly, afraid he would not be able to follow through. He pulled his head back long enough to look at her beautiful, glowing eyes, before wrapping a hand behind her head and pulling her in for a deep, sensual kiss.

Tav brought her arms to Zevlor's neck and pressed herself into him. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and played with his bottom lip, which drove him into a deeper frenzy. Their mouths melded together, their sighs intertwined, breaths becoming one. Tav's hands moved to Zevlor's face, cradling his jaw as she drank him in.

His hands moved to her waist, and he began to carefully roll his fingers down the curve that flared into her hips and rounded, pert bottom. These undergarments would prove to be a future problem, and he pulled them down and off. He cupped her ass and lifted her up, leading her to straddle his waist with her thighs. She acquiesced, and linked her ankles together at the base of his tail. A jolt of electricity shot through him at this touch, and he moved his tail to encircle one of her calfs. Tav tightened her thighs against Zevlor's taut center, her sex wetting the front of trousers.

Her warmth spilled onto him, and he deepened his kiss. His tongue tentatively moved in askance against her lips before she opened her mouth and invited him in, sucking playfully. A low moan escaped his throat as he moved towards a wall and gently balanced Tavalia's back against the rough-hewn stone.

In one motion, he transferred her thighs from his midsection to his shoulders and fell to his knees. Tav's back scraped against the rock, but the sensation barely registered as Zevlor's breath hit the sensitive place at her center.

His hands gripping her hips, Zevlor gently nuzzled his nose into her soft, damp curls. Her breath hitched and her legs tightened in anticipation. His tongue flicked out cautiously, probing her slit to find the hard little bud tucked in between.

As he ran the flat of his tongue over her pleasure, Tav gasped with joy. He continued to lick and flick and tease, circling her nub until she was leaking with arousal and panting heavily.

Like a man starved, Zevlor continued to work his mouth against her sex. Slowly, he moved one finger to her entrance before working it inside. Tav cried out, her walls clamping down on his finger, which soon became two.

He stroked her carefully, beckoning her to come for him as he whispered sweet, loving words to her core. "My darling, let yourself go. I am here to catch you, and I would never let you fall too far."

At that, she felt the coils in her belly tighten before springing to a quick release. She cried out his name, sobbing, hands holding onto his horns, grasping to stay afloat. He held firm, his hands cupped around her bottom and lower back. Her thighs tensed so firmly around his face that he thought he was likely to be a dead man, but that there may be no better death in all of Faerûn.

He stood slowly, easing her into his arms, one arm under her knees, the other under her neck. She stared up at him, dazed.

"That's not what I came here to do," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I was meant to be worshipping at your altar, not you at mine."

"All in good time, my love," his whispered back, moving towards the various travel gear he had already packed.

"Do you think you can stand?" He asked, tentatively testing her weight on her feet. "Only for a moment, and only to make you more comfortable."

Tav nodded against his chest as he tipped her feet towards the ground. She stood on shaky legs, keeping one arm on his.

Zevlor unfurled a bedroll and straightened it out against the hard floor of the chamber. Carefully, he eased Tavalia to her back and onto the bedroll.

She sat, and began working at his shirt as he moved to sit next to her. Tugging, she pulled it free from the band of his pants and moved to pull it over his head. Zevlor stopped her.

"Please, if you don't mind. I am... I am not proud of what lies underneath, and I would not want to taint your memories of this evening with the view."

Tav looked hurt and startled. "Zevlor," she whispered, eyes large and round, "there is nothing about you, ever, that would make me turn away from you. Is it a scar? A burn?"

"My heritage," he mumbled, lifting the corner of his shirt. Underneath, Tav saw more of the infernal ridges, like the ones that marked his face and tail. Her eyes softened.

"Oh, Zevlor, no. Not in a hundred, thousand, thousand years would that ruin tonight. It doesn't ruin you, nor does it define you. Nothing about your infernal heritage alarms me, and I love you because of it, not in spite of it. My love, you are wholly beautiful to me, and I would see all of you as you have seen all of me. Besides, your heritage is as plain as your horns and tail. If that were ever to deter me, I would not be here now."

Gingerly, she helped him lift his shirt over his head, smiling briefly as the collar gets snagged on one of his horns. As he tosses the shirt to the side, Tav begins working on the laces to his pants. His arousal pushes against them, undeterred by these few moments of inaction.

Zevlor stands and finishes undoing the laces. His sex, hard and girthy, stands ready as he removes the pants and small clothes. He eases back to the bedroll where he is immediately met with a deep kiss as Tav climbs onto his thighs and straddles them.

His heat meets hers with a rush of sensation, both of them forgetting to breathe in that moment. Tav arches her back, grinding her center to his. He can feel her sex against him, still wet and inviting.

His tail wraps around one of her ankles, securing her. Her arms encircle his neck as she breathes into his ear. "Please," she begs, "please let me have you as you have had me." His hands move up her sides until they find her breasts, and he begins to massage them and gently pinch her nipples. He ducks his head to carefully pull one of her nipples into her mouth, where he gently licks and sucks until it becomes firm under his tongue.

"Dearest," he nuzzles against her neck, "if I allow that, then this night ends much too quickly for either of our likings. Besides, I do not deserve such attentions."

Tav snaps her head to face him, hips still grinding against his. "To the Hells, what do you mean! 'Deserve?' As if this is not an act of love, freely given? Lie down." Her grinding has stopped, and she lightly pushes him onto the bedroll before kissing and licking her way down his chest.

He has never been harder in his life than he is the moment she breathes against him. A liquid pearl sits at the tip of his member, and Tavalia is quick to duck her head and lick it off in one quick flash of her firm tongue. Zevlor moans, louder than he would have liked, but too ensorcelled by this beautiful creature to care.

As quickly as her tongue is there, it is gone again. Zevlor takes a moment of respite, the briefest of seconds, before his pleasure is deepened by the flat of a tongue on the underside of his member. A long, hot stroke goes up the shaft to the tip before Tav takes him into her mouth and begins working on sustaining his bliss.

He cannot think, he cannot breathe, he cannot remember his own name. He focuses on the wet heat that has engulfed him, that threatens to be his undoing. Tavalia licks and teases, suckles and massages at him until he finds himself on the edge.

Sensing the loss of control, Tav stops and pulls herself up to Zevlor's face, smashing her mouth into his with pure passion and possession. "Take me," she whispers to his lips. "Make me yours. There is nothing more I desire to be than yours."

Gently, he rotates her to her back and slides a knee between her legs. She opens easily for him, expectantly. "I would look upon your lovely face, my darling," Zevlor says, eyes full of love and lust. Tav nods and sighs, pressing her hips to his as she moves a hand down to guide him into the entrance of her core.

They both moan loudly as they become one. Zevlor thrusts slowly, cautiously, easing into her, that she may be able to take all of him. She is slick with her own love and has no trouble receiving all that he can give her.

She moves her hips in time with his, their tempos slowly increasing as their pleasure reaches a fever pitch. Tav takes his hand and wetly sucks his thumb before moving it between her legs. "Please, again, please," she whimpers, and he dutifully begins creating small circles around her hard, taut button.

A moan of pleasure escapes her lips, quickly turning into a scream of delight. He calls out as he finds his own release, pumping his spend into her until it trickles out from between them.

He watches her face and then pulls her in for a tender, delicate kiss. She returns, gently, sighing into his arms as they disentangle their legs and his tail.

They lie together on the bedroll, foreheads together, eyes heavy with love and sleep. Drowsily, Tav opens her eyes and stares up at Zevlor. A hand comes up, slow and soft, to stroke his cheek.

"We must depart in the morning. We have duties to fulfill, people who need us. But here and now, tonight, we have each other, and that is all I need." She kisses him tenderly, smiling into his lips.

"My darling, I could die now a happy man. I did not know that it would be possible for a man my age to find a love like this, so true, yet here I lie, you in my arms." He kisses her back, a strong, low purr beginning to emanate from his chest. "May your love and faith see me through the undoubtedly dark times ahead."

"And may we find each other once more in Baldur's Gate, with tasks complete and victories won, to begin a new journey, a quieter one, just the two of us."

They fall asleep, arm in arm and facing each other. Zevlor's tail drapes protectively around Tavalia's waist, and her soft snores lull him into a deeper peace than he has known in quite some time.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 zevlor #tav x zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor smut #smut

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 6 Prompt: Baking & Cookie Decorating

Tags: Gingerbread Competitions, Banter, Holiday Fun, Steve Harrington Is A Little Shit, Eddie Munson Is A Menace, Competitiveness, Dustin Henderson Is A Little Shit, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship

wc: 2062 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

When Eddie first brought up the annual Forest Hills Gingerbread Competition, Steve thought he was exaggerating. Hawkins is a small town and he’s pretty sure he would have heard of such an event if it existed.

It also doesn’t help that Eddie has a tendency to exaggerate just about everything. Steve still hasn’t forgiven him for the time he walked in on him distraught on the floor because  Bradley’s Big Buy was out of Honeycomb Cereal for the second week in the row. The urge to call his own Code Red and ring Eddie’s neck had never been stronger.

The Forest Hills Gingerbread Competition is a big deal though, judging by the bustling activity he finds when he turns into the trailer park. It’s not unusual to see so many people out and about — no matter the hour Steve drops by, there’s always someone out smoking or playing with a dog or sometimes even doing laundry. What is unusual though is the sight of nearly every resident out and about.

The picnic tables that are usually scattered around the park have all been pulled together in the hub. Even with them all pulled together, there’s not enough space. Steve spots at least four or five fold-out tables in the mix. An assortment of chairs circle the tables which are all stockpiled with various gingerbread pieces and frostings.

Steve whistles, shaking his head as he b-lines for Wayne in the crowd. “Eddie wasn’t exaggerating about this event.”

“Not one bit,” Wayne says, offering Steve his version of a smile. “Braggin’ rights are on the line.”

“Screw bragging rights. I’m here for the $200!” Max chimes in from across the yard.

“$200? You said it was only $100!” Dustin squawks beside her. “If it’s $200, you owe us more than $25!”

“I didn’t know you four would be here,” Steve deadpans, crossing the short distance to their table. His delivery may be dry, but he can’t deny the warmth blossoming in his chest seeing Max, Lucas, Dustin, and El gathered around a table for something fun for once. He’s not going to tell them that though.

“Boyfriend duties,” Lucas smiles as Max rolls her eyes.

“Are you here to help us too?” El asks.

“Oh, uh, not I’m here to—“

“Steve! You made it!” Eddie shouts appearing behind Steve like some sort of magician. He slaps a hand on his shoulder and leaves it there. To the kids its innocent — one they’re used to thanks to Eddie’s affinity for touch. What they don’t see is Eddie’s thumb massaging soothing circles into Steve’s shoulder blade.

“I’m sorry, you asked Steve to be on your team? He can’t even build legos and those stick together!” Dustin scoffs, shaking his head in that judgmental way of his. “I would have been a better teammate.”

“Hey,” Max scolds, elbowing Dustin in the ribs. “Don’t make me regret choosing you.”

“Yeah, Dustin,” Eddie says, sticking his tongue out. “Don’t upset the team captain who picked you. Besides, building a team is all about balance. Sure, Steve can’t build for shit—“

“I’m right here,” he whines.

Eddie’s thumb digs deeper into Steve’s shoulder blame, soothing a knot he didn’t even know existed as he resumes his lecture. “But he’s going to make up for that in other ways. Like decorating! Right, Steve?”

“Uh…”

The only time he remembers decorating cookies was when he was eight and his grandparents came down to visit for the last time. His Nonna had sat him on the kitchen counter, handing him freshly cooled cookies and a bottle of icing, telling him to go wild. And go wild he did. So much so that a blue food coloring stain was permanently inked onto the wood table for three months until his parents finally replaced it.

He’s not sure that’s what Eddie is looking for when it comes to decorating, but he’s in too deep to back down now.

“Yeah, I’m a great decorator.”

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some gingerbread houses to build,” Eddie says before steering Steve away from the kids and back to the table where Wayne is.

Since they’ve been gone, Wayne’s organized the pre-cooked gingerbread pieces. They’re stacked by size and kind. A giant bowl of white frosting sits in the middle, two pipping bags are already filled, and a dozen smaller colored icing bags line the table along with copious amounts of candy.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Wayne asks, snubbing his cigarette out in the red ashtray at the very end of the table.

“Mr. Moore brought in another ringer,” Eddie seethes, collapsing onto the bench next to Wayne. “You know Flora? She works at the bakery on Main. Well, apparently she’s close friends with Moore all of a sudden.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “She’s practically a professional! It should be illegal!”

“Well, that ain’t seem fair, but nothin’ we can do ‘bout it,” Wayne says, patting Eddie on the shoulder. “‘Less you wanna get disqualified again.”

“Again?” Steve asks, brow raised.

“It was one time four years ago and it was a bad call, okay!”

Unfortunately, Steve doesn’t have time to ask Wayne for the details because an older lady is shouting into a megaphone she doesn’t need judging by her shrill voice. “You have two hours to execute your build,” she hollers before sounding an alarm.

As soon as the alarm sounds Eddie and Wayne are off. They work in total tandem, a practice duo who clearly have done this before. Eddie hands Wayne pieces of the gingerbread and he coats them in icing with all the careful, practiced ease of a construction worker assembling a real-life house.

They’ve got a real rhythm going, one that Steve’s hesitant to interrupt as they start assembling the second level based on Eddie’s blueprint castle he sketched out days ago.

“Can you pass me the 2x5?”

Instead of asking questions and distracting Eddie from the moat he’s assembling, he blindly reaches for one of the pieces in front of him.

“No!” Eddie scolds, glaring at Steve. “That’s a 2x3. I need that one.”

Caught off guard, Steve drops the 2x3 on the table causing it to break in half. If Steve thought the glare he got from Eddie a second ago was bad, this one is even worse. The apologies fall from his lips faster than he can comprehend as he gently hands Eddie the proper gingerbread piece.

“Why don’t ya let your boy handle fillin’ the moat,” Wayne suggests, glancing up from the angled roof he’s currently assembling.

Eddie hums in agreement and hands Steve a pastry bag full of icing, instructing him to fill in the moat and make it look like moving water. It sounds easy enough, but Steve quickly learns that everything is challenging when it comes to gingerbread construction.

He manages to get the front proportion filled before an air bubble forms in the bag and a giant blob of blue shoots out onto the moat. A second later the entire bag explodes with a loud pop that has Dustin and the rest of the kids snickering.

“Dammit, Steve,” Eddie groans, reaching for napkins to clean up the mess. “Don’t make me kick you off the team!”

“I’m sorry, Eds,” Steve says, trying his best to help mop up the mess he’s made while still salvaging the blue icing. “Maybe the kids were right. You should have picked a better teammate.”

“Hey, now,” Wayne scolds. “None of that. S’your first gingerbread build. S’hard thing to do. Eddie’s first year was a disaster.”

Wayne mumbles something else after, but Steve can’t hear him over Eddie’s interruption.

“Wayne’s right,” Eddie says, turning to give Steve an apologetic gaze. “M’sorry. I just really don’t want to lose again this year.”

Steve may not know a thing about gingerbread houses, but he does know a thing or two about wanting to win. That one little sentence is all he needs to hear to tap into his competitive side. If winning is what Eddie wants, then dammit he’s going to help them to victory.

With thirty minutes left, things are tense. Teams are bickering, gingerbread houses are starting to fall, and the wind is picking up sending candy bits all over the place. Steve can tell the pressure is getting to Eddie who alternates between crafting his detailed gingerbread villagers and shouting orders at Wayne and Steve. His complaints over Steve’s candy placement are background noise at this point.

The roof is barely holding it together and Eddie’s shouting about how Ms. Sanders clearly sabotaged them by giving them a broken icing recipe. A bit of quick thinking on Wayne’s part and a slight change to Eddie’s original design keeps the thing together.

With the structure saved, Steve lets his attention drift away from the cobblestone street he’s assembling with rock candy and glances up at Max’s table. El’s arms have turned a shade of green he didn’t even know existed. Dustin’s face is more frosting than skin. And he’s pretty sure Lucas’s arm is stuck in the middle of the gingerbread house Max is shoveling frosting onto. It’s obvious they’re struggling, but Steve can’t bring himself to care. Serves them right for being assholes to him earlier.

He’s considering taking a page out of Dustin’s playbook and going over there to gloat but decides against it. There’ll be plenty of time for all that when they get crowned the winner in a few short minutes. Turning back around, he finds Eddie kneeling on the bench, tongue sticking out and trapped between his lips. He’s the picture of concentration as he slowly lifts a gingerbread flag to the top spire of the castle.

It’s almost completely secure when a gust of wind rips through Forest Hills, sending a round peppermint soaring into the air. Steve watches as it glides in the breeze until a second gust picks up whirling it straight at Eddie until it smacks into his eye. He wobbles on the bench, hands searching for purchase but there’s no use. His body lurches forward and in an instant, he falls directly onto the castle.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever going to forget the sound of a hundred pieces of gingerbread crumbling at one time. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Eddie groans, burying his head in the crumbled remains of the castle.

“Christ,” Wayne swears, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He lights one with ease, exhaling smoke into the air before reaching his free hand out to pat Eddie’s back. “S’okay boy. Least we got closer than ever before.”

“Wait,” Steve says, tearing his concerned gaze away from Eddie’s crumpled form. “This happens every year?”

Wayne nods, a gruff laugh escaping his lips. “Your boy always comes up with great ideas, but tends to crack in the final moments.”

“I don’t crack,” Eddie whines, pulling himself from the wreckage. His eye is already turning a light purple shade from wear the candy collided and the rest of his face is littered with icing and cookie crumbs. “It was the wind's fault.”

“This year, but last year you started celebratin’ too soon and—“

“We don’t need to relive the details!”

Before they can argue, an alarm blares and the older woman from earlier is shouting to put the gingerbread down. There’s a round of applause and lots of moaning and then everyone is up and moving.

“Come on, gotta check out our competition,” Wayne says, peeling himself up from the bench.

“What’s the point? We’re clearly not winning.”

“Definitely not,” Steve agrees, gazing around the structures on some of the other tables. He’s two seconds away from joining Eddie in embarrassed shame when he lands on the disaster mound of gingerbread on Max’s table. Maybe it’s mean, but he really can’t help but laugh. “Look on the bright side, Eds. At least ours isn’t the worst one.”

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, yanking his head up from the table. “Have you seen our wreckage? We clearly are the biggest losers. I mean look at—“

Before Eddie can finish, Steve grabs his chin and forces his head to turn in the direction of Max’s table. It takes a second for Eddie to recognize what he’s staring at, but when he does, his beautiful laughter spills out of him until he’s doubled over on the table again.

“You know what,” he wheezes, gripping his eyes. “You’re right. At least we’re not losers like that.”

“Want to go make fun of them?” Steve asks through his own laughter.

“Absolutely!”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

[yallmakemyassitch]

Hey! You are amazing (also your right Cesar totally to ticklish for his own good)

Yeah, church boy needs to be humbled immediately and I think I know just how :)

Laughter is always worth the risk

Summary: Cesar hasn't been his usual self and Mark quickly picks this up. Learning that he purposely hid his troubles from him, Mark resorts to an unbearable yet fitting punishment for his friend.

Word count: 903

Characters: 5157

Tobi talks: Yes I did write a whole quick fic and sit on my ass for 7 hours because of those drawings. Yes I have no self control, thanks for asking (please help my thighs hurt so much)

✿

✿

✿

✿

“Mahahahahark nohohoho!” Cesar howled, his cheeks burning red, embarrassed as his best friend relentlessly teased him. He couldn’t get away, his wrists were firmly bound together by rope, preventing him from fighting back.

“Mark yes~” he teased, digging his fingertips deeper into the sides of his ribcage. The poor teen had been stuck here for a while now, making the huge mistake of hiding his feelings from Mark. His best friend was optimistic and bubbly, so seeing someone he cared about so deeply so upset saddened the teen.

So naturally, he asked him of his troubles and was met with a lie. A bold faced lie that even an idiot would see. Cesar insisted that there was no problem yet Mark continued to prod until he broke down. Mark had to hold himself together as his dear friend was held close in his arms as he cried, venting about how worried sick he was for his mother and their own safety.

Knowing him for so many years, he knew just what to say to soothe the church boy. It wasn’t long after that Cesar felt better and thanked his friend for the support. However, Mark wasn’t satisfied that he hid something so important away from him. So as a bit of revenge and to cheer up the last parts of his sorrowful self, he tickled him.

“Plehehease Mahahark, I’hihim hahahppy, seeheehee?!” He cried, rolling onto his side to escape the wiggling fingers.

“C’mon Cesar, you can take it.” Mark taunted, racking his nails into his now exposed side, whilst also keeping a hand on his ribs.

“NAHAHAHAHA!” He screamed, his body sending waves of ticklish shocks throughout his body. The church boy kicked his legs in mirth, unable to stand the relentless torment. Mark’s grin widened at his explosive reaction.

“What’s wrong, Torres? Too ticklish?” His hand on his ribs wiggled up to the crevice of his underarm, causing a screech to erupt from the teen below him. Cesar rolled onto his stomach in an attempt to protect his armpits, giggling uncontrollably with ruby red cheeks.

His friend snickered, “I knew you would do that~” and traced a finger down his back teasingly.

He didn’t however expect the teenager to arch his back so harshly, along with the flurry of giggles to spill his lips, “Nohohoho nahahat thehehere…” he whined, hiding his face somewhere in his arms.

Mark chuckled at this and traced a finger down his back again, getting the same adorable reaction with not as much resistance. “What, here?” Mark cooed, tracing all over his back.

Cesar giggled uncontrollably and didn’t try to hold back all the silly noises he was making. He didn’t know his back was so sensitive but he couldn’t deny Mark’s hands on his back felt amazing. The gentle tracing from all the way from his lower back to his shoulder blades, caused the black-haired teen to snort and curl up.

Mark noticed he was getting a little too relaxed and reminded himself this was a punishment.

While still tracing his lower spine, getting it to shutter at the soft touch is when the elder teen took a deep breath and blew a raspberry right at the arch of his back. Cesar squealed and was thrown back into a flurry of thrashing and high-pitched laughter as raspberries were planted all over his back. He was still donning his suit and could somehow feel a pair of lips make contact with his clothed skin and still get it to tickle like hell.

“PLeHehehEase naHaHat ThahAhAT!” His laughter was littered with snorts and squeaks. Mark moved back up with a laugh, amused at how ruthless he’d been and how much he ruined his friend. Cesar was letting out residual giggles, covering his mouth with his hands with how much he was giggling.

Yet even he knew he wasn’t done yet. Cesar was still on his stomach, so that gave Mark just enough time to burrow his hands into his armpits. He violently flinched but resigned to his fate when he realized he had just trapped the hands in his most sensitive spot.

“Plehehease Mahark, I’m sensitihihive…” he hopes instilling a little bit of pity into his friend would work. Mark just laughed, “Yeah I can tell, super ticklish too.” And began to relentlessly dig, wiggle and knead the inner flesh of his underarms. His reaction was immediate, belting out precious yet hysterical cackles, practically melting the teenager’s heart.

“PLEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOH!” He screamed, lightly banging his head on the ground to cope with the insane amount of tingling in his armpits. His face was covered by his jet black hair yet Mark could imagine the joy filled smile underneath the layers and kept at it. He instantly knew he was reaching his limit when Cesar began to wheeze.

Mark immediately let go of him, unbinding his wrists as his friend gasped for air. “S-shihit, that was tohohorture…” he sighed. Nonetheless, Cesar was smiling and his friend couldn’t be happier to see him happier.

“You had fun, don’t lie~” he poked his side playfully, getting him to flinch. Now free from his grasp, he just flopped onto the floor and stared into the ceiling, euphoric and relaxed. Mark joined him and together they just laid on the ground. Soon enough, the both of them fell asleep in each other’s arms, comfortable in one another’s presence.

✿

✿

✿

✿

Fin~

#tmc tickling #lee cesar #ler mark #my art #digital art #ibispaintx #funkedela catalogue #the mandela catalogue #quick fic #tickle fic #my fic #ask answered #anon #my ass hurts im gonna lay down 💀

[breathlesslink]

Chapter 1 - Freedom

[chapter warnings: abuse, fighting, sexual jokes]

t.o.c ; >>

"Hyah!"

"Good!"

Sweat dripped down your forehead, soaking your hairline and traveling down to your eyelashes. The water nearly blinded you, yet you knew you couldn't stop. You swung the Windcleaver in your hands with terrifying strength, slicing the arm off of the wooden dummy as if it was butter. Your muscles burned at the feeling and nearly gave out after you had cut, but you knew better.

Don't stop.

A loud thud resounded behind you, and yet you did not turn around. You held the blade over your shoulder to protect your spine, effectively blocking the soldier who had attempted to attack you from behind. At his surprise, you were able to turn and use two hands to push the blade towards him, pushing him back against the sand floor. The soldier regained his footing quickly and charged once more, making you continuously block and parry his shots, looking for an opening to go on the offensive.

Finding none with your sword, you sighed. You blocked his blade once more and threw both his and yours to the side, following the weapons with a blow to his face.

Hand-to-hand combat was never your favorite-- it hurt your knuckles and it was just too much trouble. Why use your fists when you had so many weapons at your disposal?

You ducked under a punch from the soldier, taking advantage of the low point to hit his ribs. The soldier coughed and kicked out while you were still low, hitting your shoulder and knocking you back a few steps. You squared your stance once more, ready to charge again--

"Y/N! Y/N!"

A high-pitched voice squealed from your left, where the entrance to the training arena was. You dropped your guard after seeing the soldier do the same and turned to see a little girl, height barely reaching your hips, barreling towards you. You grinned and wiped the sweat off of your forehead again, kneeling down with your arms open wide.

"Kimi!”

Your little sister giggled and crashed into your arms, wrapping her own around your neck as you picked her up and spun her around. She held a piece of paper in her hands and once you stopped spinning her, she unfolded it and held it up to the scorching sunlight to let you get a look. On the paper were scribbles of color and what seemed to be three stick figures, adequately drawn for a seven-year-old such as Kimi. You looked at her and smiled, "And what do we have here?"

"It's a--"

"Family portrait." A slightly lower voice comments from the same area Kimi came from. "She says it's us, but I don't see the resemblance."

You laughed. "Hiro, she's seven. You can't expect her to be the next great artist just yet."

Hiro shrugged, feigning distaste although you knew it was all for fun. "I dunno. I think I did better than that when I was four."

"Not sure about that one. Last week, Master got on you because he couldn't read the ambush plans you had drawn up. Four wasn't your magic number and thirteen might not be, either."

Hiro scoffed and opened his mouth to rebuttal, only to be interrupted by the soldier overseeing your training.

"You were distracted today. You could have done better if you focused, Y/N. Get ready for dinner." He waited until you saluted him before walking away. You and your siblings watched him walk off, the large door closing behind him.

"Fuckin' hate this--"

"Hiro, language."

"What?" He threw his hands up. Kimi buried her head into your shoulder-- she never liked it when people were upset. "Y/N, we've been here for five fucking years. These people have kept us kidnapped here, and for what? To become their super soldiers? 'Protect Ganon, protect Ganon'. From what? There's fucking nothing going to tame that dumb pig in the castle. That one dude is not coming back to life.”

You could only watch in sympathy as Hiro ranted. You felt the same, but you felt like you had to keep it together for him and Kimi. If they saw you crumble the same way your pubescent teenage brother was, then you'd be seen as weak. They wouldn't be able to rely on you for anything. That couldn't happen.

"It'll all work out, Hiro."

"Doubt it." He blew a strand of white hair out of his face, crossing his arms. "Let's just-- let's just go. Time for dinner, I bet it's just a bunch of fuckin' rocks."

The events after dinner were always the ones you dreaded, and yet also looked forward to the most. Nights in the desert were always cold, even from the comforts of your room in the hideout. They chilled you to the bone, and could lead to your demise should you travel unprepared. The sand seemed to turn to snow and the dry winds did little to help, as did the thin blankets that laid across your shivering body in the rock-hard bed that you shared with your younger siblings.

Yet, you were alone. Free from the prying eyes of your captors, and from the ever-present pressure to be the strong one for your siblings as they slept soundly beside you. Here, you could relax.

Kimi was curled up in the middle against your side, still sucking her thumb despite you telling her she was too old for it. Perhaps it was to cope. You stared at the ceiling, thinking back to the training earlier today.

You agreed with Hiro-- what were you doing here? Of every child in the world, why did the Yiga Clan decide to take you three? What good could you do for their cause? Surely there were people more willing and capable of doing what you were being trained to do.

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself. You had to be stronger than ever to utter your next words, much less carry them out.

"Hiro... Kimi... Wake up." You waited for the two of you to acknowledge your presence. "Do you want to leave tonight?"

"Leave? Tonight?" Hiro's voice echoed back.

"Yeah, from here. We need to."

"But won't they catch us?" Kimi whimpered.

"Not if we do it now. The guards are switching shifts. Let's put on our suits and get out of here. And stay quiet."

All you heard for confirmation was the ruffle of clothes as Hiro and Kimi slipped on their outfits and packed their few belongings. You looked around outside the curtain that separated your bedroom from the main room. You watched the open holes in the rock walls that pretended to be windows, making sure that guards didn't walk by to see you up past curfew. Quietly, you led the two younger kids around the rock pillars that turned the room into the hellish labyrinth that had been your home for the past five years-- nearly Kimi's entire life. Your heart lurched at every ruffle the red banners made along the corridors as the wind breezed through.

The place was peaceful tonight.

You held your breath around every twist and turn, the fear of getting caught nearly paralyzing you— urging you to turn back and crawl under the safety of the blankets— but you pushed on for your siblings. Finally, you saw stars.

The entrance of the Yiga Clan hideout was so close. You could reach out your hand and be free.

You could taste the fresh air and see the night sky, the stars getting even closer as you stepped carefully towards the entryway. They seemed to sparkle in morse code, praising you and encouraging you to continue forward.

The small streams of sand falling from the cliffs above near the entrance stung your eyes and the dust clouded around you, making you squint. Only a few more steps until you're free.

"ACHOO!"

A loud sneeze echoed through the canyon, nearly rumbling the rocks and causing an avalanche. You and Hiro turned and looked at Kimi in horror as she bashfully held her nose.

"Bless me."

"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A large Yiga member walked up from his position above the canyon. If Kimi wouldn't have sneezed, you would have passed him without being noticed.

"We were going to patrol the borders, sir." You answered quickly.

"There were already three chosen to go earlier." The member deadpanned.

"Yes sir, but it was deemed that they did an inadequate job. We were sent to resecure the borders."

The Yiga snarled. "Y/N. Hiro. Kimi. Where are you going? You can't lie to us."

"We're going to patrol the borders, as I said." You quickly picked up Kimi and grabbed Hiro's wrist, sprinting out of the entrance and across the soft sand.

Loud sirens wailed throughout the peaceful sky. The stars were blinking faster, as if saying, "Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"

You didn't need to look back to know that Yiga members were hot on your trail. You'd teleport, but Hiro nor Kimi had mastered it yet, meaning you'd leave them behind. They couldn't fight, but you could.

Suddenly, your eyes lit up.

"Hiro! Take Kimi and keep running!" You called.

"What?" Hiro replies as you thrust her into his arms. "Y/N, no!"

"Run!" You screamed as you stopped.

You turned around to face the swarm of members chasing after you, pulling out your Demon Carver and preparing to fight.

------

You were sore.

Your bones, muscles, head, everything. They ached.

It was a struggle to open your eyes, but you did.

Sunlight flooded through the window beside you. The room smelled like expensive perfume and food. Your eyebrows furrowed- the Yiga hideout didn't have perfume. The food cooked there wasn't good, either. This food smelled good.

Where were you?

Sitting up, you blinked again and looked out the window, your eyes adjusting to the harsh light. Outside of the room was a town. Sand sat in piles around the edges of the walls and on the yellow cobblestone ground. A cat, donning an emerald-studded collar, stalked around the corner, looking up at you and purred before running after a mouse.

"Ah, you're awake." A voice came from the doorway behind you.

"Where am I?" You cautiously asked, not looking away from the window. Your hand stealthily crept to your pocket, which held a small knife. just in case.

"You're in Gerudo Town." You finally turned to see a tall lady walking towards you holding a food tray, "You collapsed next to our ice house last night. Our ice keeper, Anche, fought off some pretty bad guys to save you. She brought you to us. She said those guys were definitely trying to kill you, probably still are."

"Don't scare the poor girl, Romah!" Another feminine voice came from the doorway. A slightly taller lady stood there.

"Oh hush, she'll be fine. She needs to know." The shorter one, Romah, waved her off.

"In case you didn't hear, she's Romah," The other one said, "I'm Olu. We've given you potions and such to help you heal, but you've had some pretty nasty cuts. You'll have to stay here a while before you go back home, it's way too dangerous to leave in your condition."

You looked down in silence, "I don't have anywhere to go, so I guess I won't be in a rush to heal." You shrugged.

"What do you mean, darlin'?" Olu pressed.

"Don't really wanna go back."

"Were you the only one there?" Romah questioned.

"No, I had two others," You explained, "but we got separated. They're my younger siblings."

"Really? How old are they? They couldn't possibly have gotten far."

"Thirteen and seven. I think they will be okay, but I need to find them soon."

"Of course, darling, say no more. We'll have you healed up and out of here in no time. But while we wait, have some lunch. I'm sure you're starved." Olu pushed the tray of food towards you and ushered Romah out, leaving you alone once again.

Your injuries were much more detrimental than expected, especially since you refused to rest in bed to heal. You had to move around and train.

Days spent with Romah and Olu turned into weeks, which turned into months, which turned into a year until a letter appeared in the town.

Kimi. How did she find you?

She said that she was safe in Hateno Village, having heard that one of her friends saw a girl who looked like you on her trip to Gerudo Town. She sent a letter in blind hope. No word on Hiro.

You stayed in Gerudo for four years. Four years since you had seen either of your siblings. Three since you began writing letters to Kimi back and forth. She was eleven now. You hadn't seen her grow up.

In exactly 30 minutes, it would be your 20th birthday, and you were leaving. After working the nightly love classes with Ashai and running the inn with Romah and Olu for so long, you were leaving.

After finally finding a loving home and family, you were leaving.

Your first stop was Kakariko Village, then to Hateno to find your sister. Then to the rest of Hyrule to find your brother.

You sighed and closed the curtains on your window, laying down and getting what little bit of sleep you could while being excited and nervous about tomorrow. You tossed and turned all night, the plushness of your mattress doing nothing to soothe your nerves and make you rest. Soon enough, the sun peaked through your curtains and you couldn't help but groan.

"Good morning, old lady!”

The door to your room burst open, Olu rushing in like a bull. She held pancakes with a lit candle stuck in the middle, running to your bed as Romah tried to stop her recklessness around an open flame. To your surprise, Ashai came in behind them as well, the two of you having become close as well.

You laughed, taking the plate from Olu and blowing out the candle, making a wish.

Olu sat on the foot of your bed. "So what did you wish for?"

"I can't tell you, silly. Then it won't come true." You said.

"If I were you, I'd wish for love. A fine, muscular, tasty man who'd love me," Ashai sighed dreamily and fell back onto the bed, "A man who'd love me day and night. Especially night. Or a woman. That would be nice too..."

"Alright now, she's still a kid to us." Romah chuckled, "I'd rather her not be thinking about boys."

"Okay, okay, mom." Olu rolled her eyes playfully, "Now eat up and get packed, you have a long journey ahead of you!”

With that, they left again, giving you your precious privacy.

After eating, you got out of bed and dressed in your Gerudo outfit. You packed outfits for every weather possibility in your bag as well as weapons, food, and other supplies.

You stood at the entrance of Gerudo Town with the ladies of the town who had become your family over the last four years, saying your goodbyes. You hugged the last ones and turned to Romah and Olu.

Olu was bawling, her makeup smearing on her face and your shoulder as she squeezed you into a hug. Then you went to Romah, who wasn't openly crying. She had tears in her eyes and as you hugged her, you felt one slip out and land on the top of your head.

Taking one last look at your home, you boarded your sand seal and set off to Kakariko. The journey through the desert and Gerudo Canyon was a breeze-- you were accustomed to the sands and extreme weather, but you were completely lost as to what to do when you got out. Your sand seal was useless once you left Gerudo, being unable to maneuver on the grass. As you came to your first settlement outside of Gerudo, Outskirt Stable, a lightbulb went off. You knew what you had to do.

You had to get a horse.

The stable hand at Outskirt had warned you of the difficulty of taming a horse, but you were confident. You had fought numerous people and monsters, what was taming a horse compared to that?

You scanned the open area around the stable for a few moments before finally locking your eyes on the horse you wanted. A beautiful light brown stallion stood a few yards away from you. As he turned to graze on a different patch of grass, you noticed white patches of fur against his muzzle and around his feet. He was absolutely gorgeous, and you wanted him.

You crouched in the grass, stepping carefully towards him to not make any sound. Training with the Yiga paid off for this-- stealthily sneaking up on your target. Except this time you weren't going to take out a knife and kill it. The stallion had no clue you were near and when you got close enough, you lunged forward and placed your hands against its haunches to push yourself onto its back.

Immediately, the horse began to whinny and buck, trying its hardest to knock you off. You held on tightly to his chocolate-colored mane, patting his neck to soothe him as best as possible. It wasn't working. You were getting tired, struggling to continue holding onto his mane, so you leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck entirely, shutting your eyes and hoping for the best. He continued to rear up and buck, and finally, your arms had enough. They loosened and you lost your grip, sliding off of the side of the horse and hitting the hard ground below.

The horse was still reared up, his front hooves raised over you. You covered your face with your arms, preparing for him to slam down and crush you underneath his strength, yet it never came.

Instead, you felt a nudge against your arm. Peeking open an eye, you saw the same stallion hovering over you, his hooves now planted on the ground on either side of you. He was looking down at you with big brown eyes, head cocked to the side as if you say, "You good?" Slowly, you stood up and the horse gave you space, putting his head down in front of you. You quirked an eyebrow, petting his muzzle and he swished his tail in happiness.

"If you like me, then why did you throw me off?"

He just snorted.

You rolled your eyes and walked around to his side, swinging one leg over. The horse-- Taz, as you decided to name him-- walked to the stable with you barely having to control him, swishing his tail the entire way like some kind of giant dog. You registered him and after putting on his saddle and bridle, you set off to Kakariko Village.

------

Kakariko Village was a sight to behold.  The small town was embedded deep in a little dip of the mountains, the rocks themselves surrounding it on all sides. It reminded you of the entrance of the Yiga hideout, yet so much better. Less evil. You were glad that Taz stayed on the path well because you were having trouble keeping your eyes on the road. The area was just breathtaking.

Seeing the Sheikah symbols, you were taken far back. Further than your life with the Yiga, but to your life before everything went wrong. You got a glimpse of you before even Hiro was born, playing outside while your mother, a Sheikah woman herself, tended to the garden. Your father, a regular Hylain, chased you around as you laughed.

Suddenly, the village seemed more nostalgic to you. Kids ran around like you used to-- like Hiro and Kimi never got to. Hiro was the only one to get your mother's hair, and everyone around reminded you of him.

Shaking your head, you got off of Taz and led him around, searching for an inn to let you stay for a little while. Finding it on the other side of town, you didn't hesitate to ask for a room. The innkeeper was a nice man who kept yawning and hobbled around the front desk to show you to your quarters. It was just a bed and nightstand surrounded by privacy curtains, but it was enough. You didn't plan on spending all of your time there, anyways.

"We haven't had many visitors lately," The man, Ollie, yawned once more, trying to keep his eyes open and start a conversation. "Other than one dude that's been here for a few days."

"Really? Is he staying here as well?"

"Sometimes," Ollie responded, his speech slurred. Goddess, he was struggling to stay awake. Was he okay? "Sometimes he's here, sometimes he won't come back for the night. He's apparently a special traveler, according to Impa. We have to treat him real nice."

Special? And he'd be staying next to you? Wow.

"I hope he's nice," you mused to yourself, "Special people sometimes let it get to their heads."

"He hasn't talked to anyone, I don't think. Might be mute, might be a self-righteous asshole who thinks he's too good to talk to anyone. Dunno." Ollie sat back down at the desk and laid his head against his hand. In no time, he was back asleep. You sighed and left the snoring man to his nap, deciding to go to the stores.

High Spirits Produce was the shop that you decided to explore. You and Taz had eaten all of the snacks that Romah and Olu had packed, so you definitely needed more before traveling again.

You walked over to the swift carrots, wanting some for Taz, but they were swiped from your view as you went to grab them. Looking up in surprise, you came face to face with a pair of blue eyes that practically glowed in the soft light of the shop.

Those eyes seemed nervous, the person's eyebrows furrowing in some type of frantic anxiety.

"I'm sorry, could I have two of those? My horse is in the stable and he's hungry-"

The boy quickly slammed down a carrot and rushed to the counter, paying for the rest and practically running out of the shop.

Okay, weird. But he only left one...

You shrugged and paid for it along with the other items you had collected and left. Taz wouldn't be the happiest horse in the world- he always got two carrots. No more, no less- but you supposed that he would be subdued with an apple or two as a substitute.

Your mind went back to the boy that you saw. After many Gerudo classes on "men" with Ashai, you could tell that he was nervous and slightly uncomfortable. It was body language that the women were taught to recognize, lest they accidentally make the man uncomfortable. His shoulders were tense, the stress lines across his face were abundant and his lips were turned down into a deep frown. He didn't say anything to you, which led you to believe that he was just anxious. But about what? It didn't seem quite like normal social anxiety. It toed on the line of dread and pure panic- like the world could be ending soon and he was the only one who could stop it or something.

Shaking your head, you reached the small stable.

"Taz?" You called, "I've got snacks!"

Taz whinnied and you went to walk towards him, but stopped as you saw someone already in front of him.

It was the man from before. He had his head down, seemingly deliberately avoiding eye contact with you. In his hand was a swift carrot, a large bite in it that you assumed Taz had taken. He was feeding your horse.

"Um, hi. I don't think we've properly met." He jumped at the sound of your voice. Despite this, you still carefully walked toward the blond man. "I'm Y/N."

He hesitated for a moment. "...Link."

You paused, but only for a millisecond. That name was familiar, but from where?

"Link. I like it." You smiled. "But do tell me, I have a question."

Link turned to look at you, still on edge. "Yes?"

"Why are you running around here like a Cucco without its head? I've only seen you twice and you're acting like the world-"

"-Is ending. That's what Ollie said too..." Link sighed. It seemed as if he really didn't want to talk to a total stranger about his problems. You understood why, though. However, instead of saying anything, you remained silent, hoping that he would elaborate. After a few more moments, Link spoke up.

"Do-- do you know your way around Hyrule?"

#link #link x reader #legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #loz #loz link #loz link x reader #x reader #urbosa #ganon #mipha #revali #daruk #zelda #breath of the wild #breath of the wild x reader #botw #botw link #botw link x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #legend of zelda fanfiction #lay writes #writing

[all-risejd]

Hi, could you please write Dominik x female reader post-sex cuddles? Something cute and fluffy with a dash of spice. Thanks in advance!

This is from an older abandoned fic, and was a bit of inspiration for a much later scene in After Shine, but - it fit the ask, enough, we thought you might like it. We can maybe do sweeter, but…

You watched him push up in the bed, sheet hanging low on his hips, as he reached for a smoke, it's a new habit of his, and one you are more than sure won’t last, smiling you let you're tanned arms wrap around his waist from behind, as you pressed your chin into his spine, you didn’t need to see his face to know the smile that tipped onto his lips. As much as he loved riling Rey up - his father wanted him to find the right woman and settle down, not fuck around with you, his best friend - you lived for the soft touch of your favorite bed partner. “It’s three in the morning, Mysterio.” You exhale, as you let your hands trail down his ribs, “Smoke then sleep, or smoke than fuck more?” Dominik snickered, but turned to press his lips to yours, breathing the smoke he’d been holding in his lungs into the kiss. You were heady and intoxicating for him - or so he’d told you multiple times, between kisses and the bedsheets. 

“Pipe down or Aalyah will hear you.” Dominik groused as he turned his attention back to his cigarette as your lips danced up his spine, tongue dancing over the scars left behind by the match he had with Seth at SummerSlam back when he debuted - you love his job, and his friends but you're the tag along more often than not. You shift on the bed, bringing your legs to wrap around his waist, your teeth pressing into his shoulder blade, hard enough to sting, hard enough it sends blood spiking downward, straight to his cock, it's something you’ve perfected over time, turning Dominik Mysterio on in record time. He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, but there are way too many dark secrets lurking just behind his eyes, too many things he’s afraid to do with other people, that he’s oh so willing to do with you. Stealing the cigarette from his lips, you dropped back against the tangled bedsheets. 

Dominik twisted to look at you, a faint smile on your lips as you gazed up at him, “Fuck more than?” You breathed out, with a laugh, and a smirk on your lips - Dominik isn’t home often, and when he is you want all the attention he can spare for you. Dominik snickered himself, diving at you, careful of the cigarette, as he bit into the flesh just above your nipple on your left breast. “Mhm, so bad, Mr. Superstar, so bad.” Your sing-song giggles broke off as he pulled the cigarette from your lips and flicked it out of the open window, yanking your body to where he wanted it, and wasting no time, sliding his cock back into your wet cunt, the shock of it is enough to send you into a tailspin, of almost-pain but perfect pleasure, but his cute smile is reassuring as he dives back down to press the softest of kisses to your neck and shoulder, making you exhale - there aren’t many things you love in life, but this little moment here, with Dominik, is next to perfect. 

What isn’t perfect, is Aalyah’s shout from the next room less than five minutes later, “STOP BEING SO LOUD, I JUST THREW UP IN MY MOUTH.” You're burst out laughing which makes Dominik howl with laughter.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #the judgment day fanfic

[smilingangel582]

Hey hey hey... I wanna bully our little scara -oopse I mean wanderer aka I renamed him to "Mochi" ain't that cute!

Thanks to the recent hoyofair someone gave me the idea to name him Mochi

But I'll be calling him wanderer... anyway enjoy hehe

Warning spoilers for Sumeru

A weakness?

Now, Aether likes to team up with many. He even has the audacity to call our all four archons to help him in commisssions and abyss trials.

Heck... Ei and Nahida seemed game too and Aether had no trouble teaming up with anyone.

"Worthless as expected"

Although a certain someone seemed too difficult to handle... more difficult than Xiao supposedly...

"I told you..." Wanderer elevated from the ground now, landing his wind blades perfectly striking the treasure hoarders who now fled from the new threat, "Be direct and don't hesitate... sucker..."

Aether is just sick of him now. At least Xiao opened up to him more as time went by. Wanderer just gets on his nerves a lot.

"Alright, but can you just be a little calm... nicer too, " Aether said, suddenly feeling irritated too. Blue eyes shifted away, and he grumbled, "It's not my fault you are weak"

"Mochi~, please... aren't u being too mean?" He tried to tease him to lighten up the mood, Wanderer seems too bitter to acknowledge that, so he ignored him."Whatever... can't stoop to your level ...let's finish this quickly"

Aether growled "You little..."

Smirking wanderer folded his arms. "What? You would rather have me sugar coat it and mince my words? I apologize. " he rolled his eyes sarcastically."But try and keep up...!"

Muttering Aether rolled his eyes "Rude..."

Of course Katherine as always return them their commission rewards and Wanderer folds his arms saying "Alright if that's all I'll be taking my leave-"

"Hold it, Hat guy," giggling Aether grabs his shoulders. "Let's hang out a little at the teapot... come on, you need to lighten up,"

Growling "No need I'm busy..."

"With...?"

Clearing his throat he looks away "Non of your business... so find someone else to -aaaah!"

Swirling into a sudden shift of atmosphere he knew he's being forced to enter this dumb teapot. Unbelievable, he thought and Aether grins "Come on... let's have some tea as we chat..."

To say Aether is merely annoying isn't enough. He's too troublesome. Wanderer would definitely find his company too energy wasting but also... leaving this guy alone might see wrong too. Especially after helping him ascend a lot.

He kinda felt like he owe to the traveler. Paimon was absent and that's a plus point.

"Anyway... I've been meaning to ask, " Wanderer says," Now sipping yhe tea that's brewed instantly "why do you want to chat with me? After everything we never ended on good terms either"

Aether silently drinks and then sigh "Alright that old charade... you are naive, Mochi..."

Raising an eyebrow he watched Aether scoot closer to him now leaning forward with a smirk "OK who was the guy who asked me to name him?"

Bingo, Aether grins, he blushed at that.

"Then who was the guy who gave me a lovely present on my birthday...?"

"Lesser lord Kusanali bribed me into it-"

"-And yet you didn't leave after knowing you were bribed?" Cutting in fondly and Wanderer tried his best to hide the warmth spreading on his cheeks and looks away with a stubborn huff, folding his arms "Well... think what you may... but there's no way I admit to anything"

"Aw Mochi your blush just gives it away" Aether grins poking his checking making the anemo user let out a pettish immature and yet indignant scoff "It doesnt!"

"It does..." Aether pokes his nose.

"No it didn't" swats his hand now and Aether poles his stomach grinning "It does..."

"Hey..." Yelps as the poke sent an electrifying spread on his stomach, fluttering like multiple wings chaotically dancing in him.

"Oh?" Intrigued, Aether pokes his ribs now "Are you ticklish?"

"No... absurd... why would you consider that possibility?" He backs off regardless of his words and Aether readying himself with two pointer fingers like they are guns "I don't know... but it's a possibility alright..."

"Get away from me... k-knos your place!" He threatens now eyes widening when Aether pounce on him, two fingers wiggling but not touching yet."Tickles will be your place!"

"Hehe wait! Noho!" He already feels giggles slip from his lips and Aether is tranced by it, he only has two wiggling fingers on his sides and its already making Wanderer crazy.

"Cute... I wish i done this sooner" he pokes mercilessly on his ribs and beams at the squeal of indignant protests from the former all mighty god.

"AHAHA Shihit gehehet ahahawaaay!" He curls back "Dohont...! Stahahahap!"

"Don't stop? OK... then, " Aether teases when Wanderer groans through his giggling. He notices its ten fingers wiggling under his robes now and squirms with giggles that are uncharacteristic.

Genuinely Aether grins "Your giggles are adorable... Kittenish and cute... you should laugh more"

Aether feels every attempt of Wanderer's fists trying to punch his way out but its aimless and he can't even concentrate to fly away. This ticklish technique in poking and scribbling is killing him.

"Cuhuhut ihihit out! Hahaha ihihit... stahahap!"

Grinning, an idea as he kneads his hips like a dough "Stop doing what... Mochi?"

"Tihihihickling mehehehe yohohou lohohow lihihife!"

"Oh, you want more? Sure... coming right up" he squeezes his knees, and Wanderer realises how much power tickling has over him. His whines for falling for the oldest trick in the book and shrieks "OK! Ohohok, yohohou idiot! Stahahap ihihit! Seheheheriously!"

Aether hums but pausing his attack to only push him down with his hands. "Hmm, say you like hanging out with me and ill consider..."

Wanderer widened his eyes and hesitated "Ihihi... uh..." but squeaks when Aether latches on to his thighs and giggles without Aether tickling him "Last chance... or I'll tickle you till you go crazy"

"Ahaharchons wahahit... OK ok! Mahahaybe hanging out with yohou isn't bahahad? -ahaha eek!" The shrilled noise from Wanderer when Aether reached to touch his ears made him giggle "Aha hilarious... I can't take you seriously..."

"OK I like hahahangjng out with you!" He scrunched his neck when Aether trails his fingers on his neck and ears "ahaha I said it i said I SAID IT!"

Cruelly but playfully gentle, Aether doesn't stop and hums "Hmm maybe after tickling you a bjt"

"BUHUHUT YOU SAHAHAID YOULL STAHAHAP!

"Bleh" mocking his own raspberry aether snickers "I said consider... so I considered..."

"IHIHI WIHIHILL KILL YOHOHOU!" He shrieked bloody murder and Aether honestly stopped to laugh properly at the sounds Mochi had let out through the tickle session.

"Oh archons... you sounded like being hit by the electro archons lightening there" he laughed till his own cheeks flushed as Wanderer's

The latter gasps now glaring but involuntary giggling to lighten the effect "Yohou ahahre cruhuhuel... I hahate you."

Playfully he shoves his shoulders and Wanderer falls to the side effortlessly. Aether sighing as he had been laughing as hard as Wanderer "OK Mochi...this is why I like going with you... cute and very serious"

Blushes more Wanderer turns away "W-whatever... just admit that I'm strong enough for... uh these things"

"Alright alright... you are" Aether waves his hands in surrender but adds with a playful finger sliding up Wanderer's back "But not strong enough to deal with a little tickling"

"Ah!" He shrieks at the sudden sensation and turns his back away from him glaring at him still blushing "Don't you dare! I'll-I uh I'll chomp you down like a -a shrimp masala curry!"

"Yah yah but I'll tickle you before you could" Aether giggles and takes his hat running off with loud bouncy laughs "Hehe!"

Wanderer smirks now, feeling light and happy. "Oh? Come here, you lowly traveler, and feel the wrath of the former god!"

To say Aether didn't expect revenge is a lie... he wanted things to escalate like this perhaps... although maybe he's more tolerable than before.

"Bow your head!" While tickling Aether's sides.

Or maybe his attitude still stinks, but it's adorable. Despite being an offhand aggressive jerk, he can also display softness and cuteness...

#genshin tickle #genshin impact #lee!wanderer #ler!aether #lee!aether #ler!wanderer #ticklish!aether #cute #tickle fic

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Baby, Now We Got Bad Blood: Part Two

A/N: I'm not going to lie. When I posted part one of this fic for Cassian Week, I thought people were going to hate it. I did not at all anticipate the response that fic got. But I'm so happy everyone liked it, and I hope everyone will be satisfied with this part two :) Nesta is forever Cassian's home, so you already know he was going to go get his girl @nessianweek

Previous Part // Read on AO3

Cassian closes his eyes, blocking out the swirling sea of emotions still raging in his blood, blocking out the sights and the sounds of Velaris. He reaches for that gold thread tucked tightly between his ribs, around his heart, and he prays to the Mother that it will be enough. That it will guide him straight to Nesta.

The scuffle of a boot against stone that’s too close to be coming from the street has Cassian’s eyes jolting back open. Anger sparks through him again, more decided, defensive words for the High Lord already poised and ready on the tip of his tongue, but when he turns, he finds Azriel leaning against the stone of the River House, dark eyes cool and calculating. His shadows are particularly agitated, obscuring his face at times as they flit around him, some of them slipping around the openings of the front door at Cassian’s back.

It’s clear that his shadows have informed him of what’s happened, of what was said, but if there’s one thing Cassian is not interested in, it’s a lecture from his brother. He’s already wasted enough time, and there’s already too much time, too much distance between him and wherever Nesta is, so Cassian readjusts the straps of his leathers and walks away from Azriel.

“Save your breath,” Cassian mutters, checking his surroundings and making sure he’s clear of the house before he takes to the skies. “I don’t want to hear it, and there’s no stopping me.”

“Who said I was planning on stopping you? It will be faster to winnow.”

The words give Cassian pause, his attention snapping back toward Azriel. “Do you know where she is? The coordinates?”

Azriel dips his head in a small nod. He reaches his hand out toward Cassian, shadows wreathing between his fingers and around his wrist. Cassian swallows hard, his heart still firmly lodged in his throat, but he grabs his brother’s hand. Velaris and the world around them vanish into darkness, shadows squeezing in until they’re stepping out into the cold, murky grays of the human lands.

Cassian takes a deep, stuttering breath in, but the air gets trapped somewhere in his lungs as he takes in the devastation. Bodies litter the ground around them. Crimson spills across the mud and the grass, dry and caked across the skin of many of the soldiers. Some still have blades in their hands, ash arrows nocked but not released. But there’s no denying the way their limbs sit at odd angles, the unseeing eyes that stare straight ahead.

It’s with wide, frantic eyes, with his heart thundering between his ribs, that Cassian looks around the carnage. Searching. Searching for that head of golden brown hair, for the leathers he knows she left in. He spots someone facedown near the tree line, away from the rest of the bodies, mostly obscured by shadows. Cassian’s whole body trembles as he stumbles forward toward it, dropping to his knees. With a shaky hand, he reaches forward, tugging at the shoulder until he can see a face.

“It’s not…” Cassian chokes out. “Where is she?”

“Cass,” Azriel says, his voice cool, grounding. His hands grip into Cassian’s shoulders, tugging him back to his feet. “You’re going to find her.”

Cassian scoffs, glancing around them pointedly. “What’s left of her.”

“No,” Azriel cuts him off, his tone fierce and hazel eyes blazing. “If she was dead, you would know. You would feel it here.” Azriel presses his palm against Cassian’s chest firmly.

“Since when are you such an optimist?”

“We both know how strong Nesta is. She’s a fighter, and you’ll find her. You just have to trust your instincts. I would help you look, but…”

“It’s alright,” Cassian assures him, settling a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you.”

Azriel dips his chin in a nod, his shadows swirling darker and tighter around him until they swallow him whole, the shadowsinger winnowing back to the Night Court. It leaves Cassian with just the silence around him. He listens closely, hoping to pick up signs of anyone else, the rustle of fabric, a twig snapping, but there’s nothing. Just the wind where it floats through the branches of the trees and what sounds like some sort of running water deeper in the woods.

Loosing a soft sigh, Cassian pushes a hand up and through his hair, the strands still tangled from his frenzied flight to Velaris. He gives himself a moment to collect himself, to remind himself that he’s a trained soldier, a General. It quiets the raging blaze in his blood to a simmer, slows his heart to a steady beat inside his chest, and hones his focus.

He can do this.

He drops down into a crouch, examining the tracks in the dirt and the mud. It’s easy enough to reconstruct exactly what happened here. Where Mor stood. Where Rhys appeared. Where Nesta fought. There’s a trail that leads into the woods, away from the carnage, but it’s faint, as though whoever left it tried to cover their tracks. Cassian follows it through the trees and brush until he finds himself at the bottom of a cliff face, rocks piled high in clusters. There’s no way that Nesta would have been able to climb, not if she was injured. It’s a dead end.

“Fuck,” Cassian mutters to himself, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration.

He turns away, prepared to retrace his steps back to the initial scene of the ambush and try another method, when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. He steps closer to the cliff, sliding his hand along the rock until he finds a small opening, an entrance to some sort of cave system tucked behind. He closes his eyes, sending one final prayer up to the Mother, and steps inside.

Cassian keeps his steps cautious, quiet, as he moves deeper into the cave. If it ends up being one of the human soldiers that’s hiding in here, he doesn’t want to lose his advantage. It’s why he resists the urge to flare magic through his siphons, to set the whole cave alight in a red glow. Instead, he allows his fae eyes to adjust as best they can, squinting through the dark.

He gazes around the space as best he can, trying to determine just how big the cave system is, if there’s potentially tunnels that lead in different directions. But when he turns back around, his entire body locks up and freezes at the tip of a sword currently pointed right at him, the steel trembling with the effort to stay raised. At the pair of narrowed blue eyes blazing like ice even through the dark.

“Nesta,” Cassian breathes, the relief rushing through him so suddenly it steals the air right from his lungs.

The sword clatters to the cave floor. “Cassian?”

Cassian closes the distance between them in a second, pulling Nesta into his arms and burying his face against her hair. He can still smell the copper tang of blood, taste it in the back of his mouth, but underneath that is the familiar scent of lilies and vanilla, the familiar scent of her. It grounds him, settles something deep in his blood that only having his mate here, safe, in his arms can do.

“You came for me.”

The broken quality to her voice, the words, send Cassian straight to his knees, pulling Nesta down with him. The pained whimper she looses has him pulling back, his palms cradling her face, thumbs gliding across her cheekbones. He slides his hands down, willing his eyes to focus, to see through the shadows still pressing in all around them. It’s then that he notices the arrow still embedded in her thigh.

“Shit, Nes,” Cassian mutters. He presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, memorizing the feel of her here, alive, before he pushes back up to his feet. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

It’s easy enough for Cassian to retrace his steps back out of the cave, back to where the human soldiers still litter the grass and dirt. Cassian doesn’t feel an ounce of regret as he roots through their packs, pulling out any supplies he can find. Matches. Dressings. Food and water canteens.

When everything is secured to his own leathers, he finds himself surveying the scene, this time with fresh eyes. His mind keeps circling back to Nesta, to the ash arrow buried in her leg. He thinks back to the way she had been trembling from just lifting her sword, the way she had collapsed against him. With every swirling thought his blood starts to boil more and more. His fists clench tightly at his sides, red beginning to bleed into his vision as the beast within him snarls and rages. As it demands retribution.

His Nesta, his mate, hurt at the hands of these human men.

With a growl, Cassian gives in to the brewing storm, releasing the magic that thrums through him. All seven of his siphons pulse, a flood of red spilling out around him. The flare of heat tickles his skin, the scent of charred flesh burning his nose, and it’s a soothing balm to his soul seeing the blackened circle around him.

Cassian lets out a quiet huff and rolls his shoulders, stalking away from the still smoldering scene. He heads deeper into the woods, following the sounds of running water until he finds the source, a small stream. He keeps to it as he heads back toward the cliff face and Nesta, eyes sweeping along the grass until he spies the pink-flowered weed he’s looking for. Leighis. An unassuming weed to most, but it’s a plant that’s practically burned into every Illyrian soldier’s mind from a young age.

Leighis in hand, Cassian gathers some wood along the way until he’s finally stepping back into the cave. He tackles building them a fire first, keeping it small to avoid too much smoke, not wanting to cause issues within the cave or signal their location in case any other humans are lurking about. Once the fire is going, he sets one of the canteens above it to heat the water next, laying out the other supplies he gathered.

“No one is coming, are they?” Nesta asks, eying up everything he grabbed.

“No…” Cassian admits quietly, tearing one of the dressings. “We’re not welcome back in the Night Court.”

“Cassian,” Nesta sighs softly, scooting closer to him despite her injured leg. She reaches for his hands, pausing his movements. Her fingers slide against his, over his wrist, her touch calming in that familiar way. “You shouldn’t have had to choose between me and your family.”

Cassian reaches his own hand up to cradle her face, entranced by the way the fire flickers in her blue eyes. “You’re right. They should have known better. Because you are my heart, my everything, and I would choose you every time. No hesitation. No regrets.”

A tear slips free from Nesta’s eye, but Cassian is quick to catch it with his thumb. “I love you.”

“Remember that because you might not love me when I take that arrow out.”

Nesta takes a deep breath, that steel stubbornness he loves so much settling in her veins and down her spine. “Just do it.”

With a nod, Cassian pulls the canteen off the fire and sets it aside to cool slightly. He gives Nesta’s knee a comforting squeeze before grasping the end of the arrow and looking up at her. “This is probably going to hurt.”

At Nesta’s nod, Cassian snaps the end of the arrow off. Nesta lets out a whimper between her clenched teeth, dropping her forehead to Cassian’s shoulder. Cassian winces in sympathy, but he pulls what’s left of the arrow from her thigh, tossing it aside. He grabs the canteen and pours some of the hot water over the wound, hoping to flush out any remaining ash. Nesta’s leg jerks almost involuntarily, but he keeps it pinned down, Nesta letting out another pained sound and practically biting into his shoulder to keep quiet.

When the dressings are wrapped around the wound, the knot tight enough to keep the pressure, Cassian grabs the leighis. “You need to chew this, sweetheart.”

Nesta shifts enough that she can take the leighis from his hand, grimacing as she chews on the pink-flowered weed. He hands her one of the fresh canteens to help wash it down before curling an arm around her shoulders, tugging her gently into his chest. He presses a kiss into her hair, tracing senseless soothing patterns up and down her arm.

“I’ve got you, Nes. Just try and sleep.”

~ * * * ~

Despite changing the dressing on her wound. Despite making sure she drinks plenty of water. Despite having her chew on more leighis, Cassian begins to grow increasingly more concerned for Nesta. As the hours continue to tick by, her skin gets clammier, and even with the fire and his body heat, she starts to shiver. It’s clear that a fever has taken over, and every quiet, pained whimper that tumbles past her lips is another crack through Cassian’s chest, splinters ricocheting through his heart.

When another shudder overtakes Nesta’s body, Cassian has had enough. He knows his options are limited here in the human lands, knows whatever he decides will be a risk either way, but he’ll be damned if he’ll just sit here and watch Nesta succumb to the ash in her blood. He’ll be damned if he came all this way just to lose her anyways. He’ll be damned if after everything they’ve been through, anything or anyone tries to take the female he loves from him.

They’d sooner have to pry his heart from his own chest.

He’d sooner see the whole world burn before he allows it.

Cassian carefully scoops Nesta up and into his arms, cradling her to his chest. He maneuvers them out of the cave, darkness still blanketing the world around them, nothing but the sounds of that stream, of the various insects and critters of the night. Perfect. It will help keep them hidden, lower the chances of being spotted. The last thing they need is more humans looking for a fight against the fae.

Cassian closes his eyes and focuses on his magic, even with it dulled here in the human lands, and raises a shield around them, keeping Nesta safe from the bite of the chill and the wind. He spreads his wings wide behind his back and takes to the skies, flying as high into the starry night as he can handle. His eyes sweep over their surroundings until he’s able to get his bearings, until he starts to recognize what he’s looking for in the distance.

He flies hard, careful not to jostle Nesta too much, but she still lets out another pained cry where her face is buried against his neck, so Cassian just tucks her even tighter against him. “I know, sweetheart. Just hold on a little bit longer, okay?”

He lands in the treeline just to be safe, keeping his eyes and ears open to his surroundings as he steps closer. The barest hint of magic skitters across his skin, some sort of ward, but Cassian keeps pressing forward until the stone building comes fully into view. He’s barely made it to the bottom of the steps leading inside when the door swings open, golden candle light spilling from inside.

“You know, Rhysand warned me that I might get a visit from you,” Lucien drawls, leaning casually against the doorway. “He also told me that if I valued my position in his Court that I should stay out of it.”

“Do it then,” Cassian dares, not taking his eyes off the male. “Slam the door in our faces.”

For a moment, Lucien doesn’t say anything, his golden eye clicking and whirling. A small smirk starts to tug up one side of his lips, and Cassian wonders if he really will slam the door on them. He wouldn’t blame the male. After all, Lucien’s own mate is still in the Night Court. But then Lucien steps back, the invitation clear.

Cassian steps inside the old manor home, his gaze dancing across the space, the worn, pink couch that sits in the center. It’s from that couch that Vassa stands up, stepping closer and peering down at Nesta, a frown on her face.

“We have a spare bedroom where she can rest,” Vassa explains, already turning toward the large, central staircase. “Jurian, grab some cool water and rags.”

The human general rolls his eyes but stands up, grumbling as he vanishes, “whatever you want, Vassa.”

Cassian follows the human queen up the stairs and to a simple bedroom, gently laying Nesta down against the blankets there. He brushes the hair out of her face, sliding his fingers down her temple, her cheek, in what he hopes is soothing. In the low burn of the candlelight, her skin looks even more pale, her breathing concerningly shallow, and Cassian can already feel a lump threatening to press against his windpipe.

“What happened?” Vassa asks, taking the bowl of water and rags that Jurian presents her and pressing a cool, damp cloth to Nesta’s skin.

Cassian has to swallow hard before he’s able to find his voice again. “Ash arrows. I thought I’d flushed the wound enough, thought having her chew on leighis would help, but there must be too much in her system for her to heal properly.”

“She needs a proper healer.”

“I know of one that lives just over the border in Spring,” Lucien speaks up from the doorway. “She might be willing to help.”

Cassian turns his head toward the male, hoping that all the gratitude he feels is clear in his expression. Lucien nods his head, understanding shifting across his own face, before he turns on his heel and vanishes back through the manor. Silence follows his departure, only broken up by the shallow breaths Nesta takes.

“Here,” Vassa speaks quietly, and when Cassian looks toward her, she’s holding out the rag.

He takes it from her with a quiet thanks. Vassa offers him a final sympathetic smile and steps away from the bed and out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet snick. It’s clear that she’s giving him space, giving him time. With a shuddering breath, Cassian dips the rag into the bowl of water, dragging the cloth along Nesta’s brow.

“You have to pull through this, Nes. You have to fight.” He sets the rag aside and takes Nesta’s hand in his instead. He presses a kiss to the center of her palm, to the pulse fluttering beneath his lips, before whispering against her skin, “I can’t lose you, sweetheart. I can’t.”

Cassian doesn’t know how long he stays there with her before the bedroom door swings open again, an older, stout fae female bustling in. Her graying hair is pulled away from her face in a haphazard updo and her expression is less than impressed, but she carries a bag that Cassian is sure is filled with various tonic and herbs and tools.

“Alright, out of the way,” the female says, shooing her hand at Cassian. “Make yourself useful and go brew some tea.”

The snarl is tearing free from Cassian before he can stop it, his hand tightening around Nesta’s own protectively.

“I’ll get the tea,” Lucien offers placatingly from the door.

“Mated males,” the healer mutters with a roll of her eyes, but she steps around to the other side of the bed.

She sets her bag down and raises both her hands over Nesta, closing her eyes and focusing until her hands begin to glow. Nesta lets out a quiet gasp, but then her breathing finally calms, the color beginning to return to her cheeks. The healer’s hands continue to move, the thrum of magic swirling through the air, flooding through Cassian’s nose, the taste of it sitting on the back of his tongue.

The healer’s fingers curl back into her palms, that golden glow finally subsiding, and she lets out a satisfied hum. Cassian’s attention snaps to Nesta’s face, anxiety still sending his heart skipping in his chest. He tries to hold himself together, tries to keep himself in control, but when Nesta’s eyes flutter for a moment before they finally, slowly open, the relief is enough to bring him to his knees.

“Cass…” Nesta croaks, her hand coming up to cradle his cheek.

Cassian lets out a wet, relieved laugh, fingers curling desperately around her own and holding her hand there. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“Alright, my dear,” the healer cuts in, taking the tea from Lucien’s hands and adding a vial of tonic to it. “Drink this up. It will help you regain your strength.”

Cassian helps Nesta to sit up, slipping an arm around her waist to keep her steady while she takes and drinks the tea. With each sip, her hands start to tremble less, the color fully returning to her face and her eyes.

“Thank you,” Cassian tells the healer, suddenly feeling like it’s not enough but not knowing what else to say.

“Now, if there’s no one else on death’s doorstep, I should like to return to my beauty sleep,” the healer says, grabbing her bag again and standing up.

“Come on, Iris,” Lucien offers, guiding the healer toward the door. “I can winnow you back home.”

The two vanish out the bedroom doorway, but Jurian soon takes their place, stepping inside with what appears to be a dress clutched in his hand. “The sun is about to rise, but Vassa asked me to give you this.”

The human general steps forward and places the dress on the bed. He glances between Cassian and Nesta for a moment before clearing his throat awkwardly with a nod. Having done his part, he’s quick to turn on his heel and stride out of the room.

“I’ll leave you to get changed then,” Cassian offers, turning back to Nesta and pressing a kiss to her temple.

He pulls himself back up to his feet, finally stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind himself. When he gets back downstairs, he finds Lucien has already returned from winnowing the healer back home. He meets Cassian’s gaze, his expression solemn, apologetic, and Cassian already knows what he’s going to say.

“I hate to have to do this,” Lucien begins, his lips twisting into a grimace.

“But we can’t stay,” Cassian finishes for him, nodding his head. “It’s alright. You’ve already done more than enough.”

“There’s a small port,” Jurian offers, folding his arms across his chest. “Right on the border between the human lands and Spring. They’ve been offering fae and human refugees alike passage to the continent.”

“Good to know.”

When Nesta finally steps into the room, her hair freshly braided, the dress Vassa lent her on, she has four pieces of parchment folded and clasped in her hands, her gaze pinned on Lucien. “I know you’ve already done so much, but if there’s any way you can get these to my sisters…”

“Of course,” Lucien agrees, taking the letter and tucking them away.

Nesta smiles at him, stepping over to Cassian and looping her arm through his. “You’re a good male, Lucien.”

Not wanting to overstay their welcome, Cassian and Nesta step out of the manor and into the cool, early morning air, the sky above awash in pinks and golds as the sun starts to rise. They keep to the woods and the shadows cast by the trees to stay out of sight, weaving their way toward the coast. Nesta convinces him to stop at what remains of the Archeron manor on the way, navigating through the wreckage to what was once her father’s study. She finds a secret panel in the wall with ease, pulling out the coins and jewels hidden there.

The sun is high in the sky by the time they make it to the port, various fae and humans milling about and waiting for their time to board the boat that bobs amongst the waves. The sea breeze ruffles through Nesta’s hair, the sunlight bouncing off the strands until they look like burnished gold. Cassian finds himself unable to look away from the way the rays skate along the apples of her cheeks, brightening her eyes to an icy clear blue.

“Where do you think we’ll go?” Nesta asks, turning to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know,” Cassian offers with an easy shrug, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of her hair back behind her ear. “Doesn’t really matter to me if I’m honest.”

“We’re about to have a new home, and it doesn’t even matter where to you?” Nesta teases lightly, rolling her eyes.

“All that matters is that you’re there. You’ll always be my home, Nes.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck

#nessian #nessianweek2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic

[stellagibs0ns]

hi! could you write a fic where Hannibal gets a little too carried away as Bedelia's "husband" in front of many people? playing his role too seriously

once again i wrote FAR more than i intended to. but i love possessive hannibal more than i can say

——

Bedelia nurses her third glass of champagne, making idle conversation with an Italian academic she learned the name of but didn’t care enough to remember. Caparelli? Capello?

She isn’t nearly as well versed in classics and academia as Hannibal, but she knows enough to get by in conversation. As she raises the glass to her painted lips, she feels a familiar cool touch on her waist. Bedelia cranes her neck to find Hannibal beside her, his usual air of confidence washing over the room.

“Ah, Dottore Fell!” The man says, puffing out his chest as an exaggerated smile spreads over his face. He’s overly foppish and self-assured, and it turns Bedelia’s stomach. But they have a mutual agreement to play nice. For now.

“Your wife here is marvellous. Such a refined beauty, too, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. You’re quite the lucky fellow.”

Bedelia offers a tight smile. She watches as Hannibal lifts his chin and sets back his shoulders. He’s sizing him up, like a predator would his prey. Despite his quiet seething, his voice comes out even and steady.

“Quite,” he concurs with a nod. “Lydia is my muse, in every sense of the word. I believe I could fill the Uffizi with portraits of her alone.”

Bedelia casts her eyes to the ground for a moment, in case either man notices the brief flash of confusion in her expression.

Hannibal plays his part well, as does she, but they rarely peacock in such a way. Not unless it’s strictly necessary. In this case, it is not.

“You flatter me, darling,” Bedelia says, her voice tight.

“I rarely endeavour to flatter. You know how I value honesty,” Hannibal smiles slightly, glancing down at Bedelia.

His eyes are dark in the golden light, and they cut right to her core.

“How romantic,” the man chimes in. “You ought to consider yourself lucky, Dottore. Had the two of you not been married, I might’ve tried to woo Mrs Fell myself.”

Lethal mistake, Bedelia thinks to herself.

Hannibal’s grip around her waist tightens slightly before shifting up, his thumb resting neatly between her shoulder blades.

Again, he is entirely calm.

“I’m afraid you’d have no luck,” Hannibal says. “I believe I’d find Lydia in each and every lifetime. Fall in love with her a thousand times, in a thousand ways. And I doubt I could ever tire of it.”

Hannibal leans in to kiss her temple, lingering for the smallest of moments, and Bedelia’s heart hammers at her ribs. This is not peacocking. This is a dispute of territory. This is Hannibal’s confession to her. And yet she says nothing.

His chin lifts again, his eyes settling on the shorter man. He’s about to pounce. She sips her champagne.

“My wife and I would love to have you for dinner, Signor Camilleri.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #bedelia du maurier #bedannibal #hannidelia #hannibal x bedelia #my fics #answered asks

[amplifyme]

Sandor in the tub...

"Sansa," he calls out a few minutes later. "Come here, girl." Before long she is poking her head around the edge of the screen, eyes politely averted – a courtesy he finds amusing, considering the circumstances. "Have you ever shaved a man?"

"No," she tells him. "I've seen it done but have never attempted it."

"More's the pity," he grumbles, "I've no wish to be your first and end up bloodied for want of a shave. Can you trim a beard, at least?" She agrees to meet his eye and nods. "Pull up that stool, then, and do what you can."

She is soon perched at the side of the tub and wielding scissors. He lifts his arms from the water and drapes them over the tub's edge and she freezes. "Your arm. What's happened to it?"

He lifts and studies it, the scars still pink with new some two years after the fact. "It's a burn," he tells her, though he thinks it should be obvious.

She clucks her tongue. "I can see that. But how did it happen? It's not from Gregor."

"No. This was a gift from a lightning lord and his bloody god of fire." Seeing the question on her face, he shrugs it off. "A story for another time, bird."

She gets to work with the scissors, thumbing his chin to turn his face toward her as she combs through his beard with her fingers and snips at it, casting appraising eyes at her handiwork. Meanwhile he watches her, and their gazes lock for brief moments before she'll look away again. Finally she sets the scissors aside and folds her hands in her lap.

He scrubs his hand over his cheek and jaw. She's trimmed it short and close to his face. "How do I look?"

She moistens her lips. "Like a Northman."

"Half of one, anyway. Not much to be done for the other side."

She looks at him for a long time then, and he has the sense that she is collecting herself to do something. His hunch proves true when her eyes begin wandering across his arms and shoulders and then to his chest, exposed above the dingy water. He is not a vain man by any measure, but he knows he's strong and that his body is not unpleasant to look upon, despite the horror of his face. And so he accepts her silent consideration and waits for whatever may come.

Soon she is peering up at him, declaring, "You're quite hairy."

He shouts in laughter and then breaks into a verse of The Bear and the Maiden Fair, and she laughs along with him and joins her voice with his for the last few lines.

I called for a knight!

But you're a bear!

A bear! A bear,

All black and brown,

And covered in hair!

Their laughter fades and she goes back to her study, but this time hesitantly reaching to lay her hand on his unburnt arm. "You have so many scars," she whispers, tracing the closest and most notable with a fingertip. "So many. Do you remember where they all came from?"

"No. I stopped keeping count a long time ago."

"I remember every one of mine. I used to worry so, when I was young and would fall and scrape my knee or accidentally cut my finger. I didn't want to have scars. I thought they were ugly and no true lady would have them. But then I left Winterfell and found myself in a place that scarred me far more deeply than any blade might. Those are the ones that can't be seen. You have them too."

She dips a cupped hand in the water, brings it to his shoulder and empties it there. Her hand follows the water down, smoothing over the flat pad of muscle that covers his breast and then draws it back up. She fingers the scars along his chest, leaning in to follow one that begins above his heart and trails off beneath his arm and down his ribs.

He shivers at her touch, light enough that it is both tickle and caress, and follows the graceful line of her arm to the open neck of her gown. He watches the rhythmic pulse of blood beneath the skin and his memories of his small tastes of her flood his mind and begin racing through his veins. He can feel himself growing hard, a perfect and primal dichotomy to the softness of her hand against his skin.

"I have other scars too, now," she is murmuring as she pets him. "There are those on my thighs and back, no more than welts really, from Joffrey's games." He flinches, blinking hard, but she does not seem to notice, lost in her own thoughts. She looks sad and yet wears a faint smile as she talks, and he knows what it is to feel both emotions at once. "And more I've gained along the way. They are not ugly, as I had once thought; they are simply reminders of where we have been and what we have endured. And some of them," she reaches and cups his face with both hands, "some of them can even become beautiful, to eyes that know how to look."

A dozen things spring to his mind to say to her but only one comes out, ragged and low. "Why are you crying, little bird?"

These Scars We Wear - Chapter 19

#sandor clegane #sansa stark #sansan #fanfic #these scars we wear #asoiaf #future fic #mine

[youphoriaot7]

The desert is quiet. The moon shines high in the sky above, dragging itself from one end to the other. It never seems to set these days; every cycle feeling longer and longer, as if it's being held back by some invisible force. Every minute of darkness extending into a moment of danger; every second that the moon stays arisen is a second that's easier to die.

You are alone.

When you came to the sands, you had allies. The fraud wrapped in tones of the forest at your side, leading you from landmark to landmark. The soldier the color of greenery on your communicator, his messages comforting yet not at the same time. Your long-lost sister, her hat and coat long since shredded to tatters, supposedly waiting for your arrival. Your beloved, promising to make his way over.

Your sister was the first to fall. You arrive at the location the fraud told you about, and you see his look of confusion as she doesn't appear as you crest the hill. Before you can advise against it, he is slipping over the dunes, heading down to check out the situation.

He is the next to go. Suddenly, you're completely alone, clutching a sword in one hand and a communicator in the other. There is nothing to do but wait for your other allies.

You shoot off a couple of messages, each one steadily more frantic than the last. The warrior replies with his time of arrival, and it feels too long for you to wait. Your beloved, on the other hand, never responds.

You have to leave. You know this. The demon that plagues these sands is not one anyone should encounter alone; you know this better than most. You've seen it happen to others many a time before. You refuse to let yourself become one of the many bodies you've seen lifelessly strewn across the battlefields as of late.

After a few more moments of stalling, there's nothing to be done. The fraud and the woman have vanished. The warrior and the man are late. The demon is nowhere to be seen. It's time to leave. You turn over your shoulder—

—and he is standing there, dark as the night sky behind him, the only color betraying his appearance being his eyes of pure star white and the smears of blood across his cloak. The blue stains that have seeped into his hood after weeks of oblivity are nothing more than faded spots, barely visible in the glow of the moonlight.

He smiles, and a chill runs down your spine.

He asks you how you've been. Tells you it's good to see your face, that it's been too long—though it's only been four days, by your count, maybe five. Who truly knows, when the days run into nights run into longer nights run into eternity?

It's the most tense conversation you've had throughout your whole time on the island. Both of you are itching just below the surface, fingers twitching at simply the thought of digging into the other. Your teammates have been preaching peace all day, but you remember the way the demon forsake your souls on the first day in this new location. He was merciless, and you can be the same.

Yet you both hold back. Why? You may never know.

To the demon, perhaps you simply weren't worth it. Perhaps it would've been too much effort, so close to the end of the day. Perhaps he was afraid of you, more than he cared to let on, although his posture didn't betray that fact. Perhaps he cared too much to kill you, although you highly doubted that. Perhaps he simply did not care.

For you? The time isn't right. You can't take him alone. You know that better than anyone. You simply grip your sword's hilt tighter and politely finish the conversation.

The demon's eyes follow you as he lets you leave, watching and cataloging every hill you climb. You studiously make sure to take the path away from your base. Just because he avoided moving quicker than a wink there doesn't mean he will in the future. Had he wanted to, his blade could have been impaled between your ribs faster than you could even take a breath. But he didn't. And he won't be so merciful again.

You leave, and you don't look back. Once upon a time, you knew this demon well, and he knew you better than you knew yourself. Now, you still don't know yourself, and you don't know him, either. It's too dangerous. Too risky.

No sense in throwing yourself into a fight you know you'll lose.

#once again i'm simply highly overdramatizing absolutely normal events #this felt like such a trap from cellbo's pov that i just had to write it as such #qsmp #qsmp cellbit #qsmp fic #qsmp drabble #qsmp bbh #qsmp badboyhalo #ev;purgatory #qsmp red team #qsmp green team #qsmp blue team #hgduo

[zilritsch]

Remark: Philza grew up in the End. He considers this world home, even if no one lives there anymore, except for ordinary mobs.

Phil has been walking around this universe for a long time. He has quite a few scars on his body. There are those insignificant ones: on your knees from playing in the end stone, on which you abrade your skin until it bleeds when you fall, on your hands from cooking, from careless handling of a sword, from trying to pick fresh fruits of the chorus, climbing a rough and thorny trunk, and many, many other small and large scars and burns.

And there are those who left a memory forever. Those few are the most significant.

The first scar was from a phantom, when as a child he followed adults on a hunt with only a poorly sharpened chorus stick instead of a normal sword or spear. He thought he was old enough.

But the sight of a real phantom up close made him freeze in place. He was saved only by the hunters, who at the last moment managed to slightly redirect the phantom’s movement and quickly kill it before Philza died.

His arrogance almost killed him, and the scar on his collarbone from sharp teeth became a reminder to him.

The second was from the battle with the gods, during the first skirmishes, when none of the administrators were experienced in this kind of battle, and the gods got rid of the administrators by catching them one by one.

Philza then strayed from the group in the Nether, delayed in mining gold and sorting through his own belongings. Even then he had problems with time, always following only his own pace, sometimes lagging behind, sometimes overtaking everyone.

It almost cost him his life when a group of gods, who decided that Nether's territory belonged to them, wanted to get rid of the interference by catching them one by one.

Philza's reflexes and remarkable hearing saved him from the first blow of one of the gods, but the second hit right between the ribs, miraculously not hitting the core. Trying to defend himself, he threw Ender potions at the gods in an attempt to blind and slow them down. They collapsed so quickly, gasping in agony, and Phil only had the strength to write “help” and send the coordinates before completely passing out, falling next to the gods.

He almost died. But he discovered one of the ways to fight the Nether offspring.

Now he has a scar in the form of several curved, torn lines stretching from his left shoulder blade to the core (heart). Philza was nursed for a long time after this skirmish.

The third, from an arrow with poison on the right side, when one of the defectors tried to shoot him.

The betrayal hit him in every way. And the sad smile when the traitor decided to say goodbye and apologize to him awakened something wild in him.

Phil had never ripped out someone else's core and erased someone's existence with such fury before.

Philza's body is littered with scars, and he cherishes and remembers each of them. Philza was not ashamed of them, he was taught that scars were a reminder of the lessons you learned, no matter how cruel they were. Learn from your mistakes and move on, recover as the scar heals, and then find the strength to move on.

P.S: This is essentially a headcanon for DSMP, but also a canon for the Admin AU. In general, he was supposed to be small, but I again fell into the pit of adoration for Philza and his lore. I'm too weakweak for this man.

#philza #philza minecraft #headcanon #dream smp #lore #dsmp #dsmp au #admin au #I really try to put all the tags correctly