#I liked how I made the water effect and the light reflection

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Home.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Spiderverse Spoilers, Non///Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Nonconsensual Touching, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, and Blood.

A Spiritual Continuation To This Drabble.

You were probably starting to blister.

It was hard to tell. Your body felt strange, your head filled with cotton and your thoughts still blurred into one foggy, vaguely panicked haze. You were numb, and aching, and wide awake, and waiting for the moment you could lie down on a cold, hard surface and curl up until you felt like yourself, again. That man – Miguel, you reminded yourself, the desperation in his voice as he’d muttered it to you still echoing in your mind – said it was a side-effect of traveling between dimensions, that you’d be fine as long as you didn’t mess with the ring of metal around your wrist, but you couldn’t seem to tightness in your throat, couldn’t seem to forget the glimpse of a bruising puncture mark you’d caught before forcing yourself to turn away from the bathroom’s only mirror.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been there, slumped against the tiled wall of a stranger’s shower stall, trying to make sense of what little you’d learned. It had to have been an hour, if not more, but the water was still as hot as it had been when you’d half-consciously gotten in, when you decided you could burn yourself out of this situation. A benefit of being dragged into the future against your will, you guessed. At least you’d never run out of hot water, while you were trapped here.

You sighed, letting your head lull forward, but you didn’t have much time to wallow in your self-pity. You heard the automated door slide open (there wasn’t a lock, you’d checked, and then checked again, and then checked again), and snapped up just in time to see Miguel stepping past the threshold, still wearing that strained, manic grin. It looked unnatural. If you hadn’t been so scared, if you didn’t already feel so vulnerable, you might’ve asked him to stop.

Reflectively, you scrambled for a towel before remembering that you weren’t in your own bathroom, that you weren’t even in your own dimension, and shrinking into yourself, doing what you could to hide yourself away from him without the aid of a proper barrier. “I— I’m not done, just give me—”

“Relax.” His tone was calm, but strict, only slightly muffled by the shirt he was already pulling over his head. You caught the edge of a jagged scar, an expanse of tan skin, before jerking away and training your eyes on the floor. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We’re married, remember?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before stepping in front of you, momentarily cutting off your supply of scalding water. Unlike you, he seemed to want you to see him - standing just a little too close, holding himself just a little too tall, revealing just a little too much a little too quickly. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his face – or, as much as his face as you could see, anyway. The room you’d woken up in (his bedroom, you figured, despite how blank it’d been, how uncomfortable its bare walls and empty shelves had made you) had been dark, and his bathroom was no better. The lights had been dimmed to the point of near-total darkness, and you were starting to miss your apartment’s constantly flickering lights, your office’s blinding phosphorescents. You could only hope the rest of his dimension wouldn’t be so dark. You didn’t know what you would do if you had to spend the rest of your life stumbling around in the dark.

“We were married, you mean,” you mumbled, then shook your head. “Or, you were married to another version of me, I think? I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around…” You paused, gesturing to your meager surroundings. “…around this.”

His smile took on a softer lull. “In another world, a version of me was married to a version of you. When that version of me died, I did what I could to fill the gap. It didn’t work out, but…” A hand on your shoulder, then your jaw. You flinched at the unearned contact, but he didn’t pull away. “It was good, for a while. We had a daughter, Gabriella, and we took care of each other.”

You managed a weak laugh. “It’s hard to believe I’d take meeting my husband’s doppelganger that well.”

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a short lapse of silence. You chose to ignore the bluntness of his response, the bitter taste that spread over your tongue. “Maybe I’ll meet my own version of you when I get back home. It seems like we can’t stop running into each other.” And then, with more than a note of genuine excitement. “I will be able to go back to my own dimension, right? No offense, but I’m already starting to feel a little homesick.”

“Eventually. We’re looking for another solution as quickly as we can, but for now, it’s important that you stay where you are.” The pad of his thumb ran over your cheek. “Just your presence here is saving millions of lives.”

With no small amount of hesitation and a pained smile of your own, you reached up, taking him by the wrist and pushing his hand back down to his side. In his defense, he didn’t put up a fight. You could’ve missed the way his grin wavered, the carnal shade of scarlet that flashed across his eyes, if not for the way the shadows flickered at the slightest disturbance. “But I’ll be able to go home when you’re done?”

“Eventually,” he reiterated. “I’ll be taking care of you, in the meantime.”

Slowly, reluctantly, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t like there was anything else you could do, right?

~

You felt like you were going blind.

Miguel had been paranoid – making excuses, offering half-baked explanations, changing the topic every time you found the confidence to push – but even he couldn’t keep you in his dark, empty bedroom forever, lest you grow bored enough to throw the fate of the multi-verse aside and start messing with the bolt of silver latched onto your wrist. You could see why he’d wanted to keep you locked up. The rest of his society (organization? foundation? glorified playground for anyone with a spider-aesthetic and a seemingly endless supply of bad one-liners?), unlike its founder, was a beacon of color and noise, of friendly faces and helpful people. You could see why it might’ve made the thought of going home that much more difficult, for someone who’d had a much gentler introduction to it than you.

You could see how it made the time you spent alone with Miguel seem that much darker, in comparison.

Currently, you were in a room you’d once heard one of the more brash Peter Parkers’ refer to as ‘Miguel’s Cave’ – the makeshift lab where he spent most of his time leering over holographic screens and growling at constantly malfunctioning technology you couldn’t so much as pretend to understand, sitting cross-legged next to a collection of well-beaten consoles, squinting at a book you could hardly make out in the dim light. You didn’t know much about him or his society, every detail pried out through either sheer force of will or gleaned from a combination of different half-explanations, but he seemed to be the default leader, the one responsible for making sure this operation didn’t fall apart at the seams. He was stressed, obviously, but you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to feel bad for him, not when every new setback led to a new hole in the wall, another chair broken over his knee (hence why you were sitting on the floor). It was hard to feel pity for a man who could snap your neck with a flick of his wrist, no matter how often he promised he wasn’t going to hurt you.

When your vision started to blur and the knot of tension in the back of your skull turned from uncomfortable to aching, you let your attention drift to his constantly revolving screens, all showing another incomprehensible piece of another incomprehensible dimension. For a moment, your gaze caught on a scene that seemed out of place, featuring a girl no older than ten running happily toward whoever was holding the camera, but you moved on quickly. You’d already seen a few preteen spider-people, around the society. You wouldn’t be surprised if Miguel had a way of watching them after they’d returned to their own dimensions.

Your eyes fell on Miguel, next. He was in the state he seemed to revert to whenever he thought your back was turned – shoulders squared, eyes set into a stern glare, the points of his fangs just barely visible against his bottom lip. He looked angry, but then again, he always looked a little angry. You could only assume that whatever spider he’d gotten his powers from didn’t have a sense of humor, either.

Eventually, he glanced in your direction, his scowl immediately fading. You didn’t try to look away. You caught him staring at you often enough. If you were lucky, he’d realize how awful it could feel to know you were always being watched. “Need something?”

You shrugged, letting your head lull to the side. “Just wondering if you’ve made any progress.”

“Depends on what you want to call ‘progress’. Technically, we’re bringing in another dozen requites every day, but I don’t see the point in handing a watch to every—”

“Progress in my case, I mean,” you cut in, trying to keep your tone light. “Not that I don’t like it here! I’m just… a little anxious to get home, I guess. I’d just like to be able to check in – preferably without the multi-verse collapsing.”

It was quick, but you caught it. A quirk of his lips, a glint of annoyance quickly drowned out by schooled stoicism. He didn’t like it when you brought up leaving, but then again, he didn’t seem to like anything.

Rather than answer you, he sighed, pushing himself away from his consoles. He gestured for you to stand and, somewhat reluctantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking a tentative step close to him before a strong arm lashed out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you into his lap. You chuckled, shoving playfully at his shoulder, but when he didn’t relent, you didn’t tell him to let you go. It was just a habit, you told yourself, doing your best to brush it off. It was just a holdover from a past life, from the time he spent with another version of you. It was the least you could do to let him live out a few old, relatively innocent fantasies.

He moved to touch your cheek, but managed to hold himself back, opting to toy with the fabric of your collar, instead. “Have you ever thought about kids?”

You did what you could not to look at him, but when he was so close, when he’d made himself such an unignorable part of your now-limited world, it was hard to find a way past him. “Not really, no. Never had the time for it, and I was never in the right place.”

“That’s how I felt, before I met you.” His lips against your forehead, then the curve of your jaw. It was just a habit, you reminded yourself, more forcefully than you really had to. He wasn’t trying to make you this uncomfortable. “I never thought I’d stay up until sunrise icing cupcakes for a third grader’s birthday party either, but you made me want that kind of life. I would’ve gone to a million soccer games just to see you and Gabriella smile like that again. To me, you were always home.”

“Your version of me, you mean.” This time, you couldn’t make yourself sound anything but irritated. “You might’ve changed your mind, but I’m really not the little league type.”

You heard him mutter something in Spanish, low and throaty and entirely incomprehensible to you. There was sharp nip to the curve of your throat, a broad chest pressed against yours, and then, he was kissing you, his mouth crashing into yours before you could even try to protest. You tried to scream, to pull his hair and pry him off of you, but he only groaned in response, only forced himself closer – his tongue forcing its way past your and his hand wrapping around your neck as you thrashed against him. Frantically, desperate to just get him away from you, you lashed out blindly, racking your nails across his check with enough force to break the skin, to draw blood. That earned a reaction, but not the one you were looking for. Rather than release you, his hold on your throat only grew tighter, his breathing more ragged he picked you up and slammed you against his console, a dozen golden screens shuttering under the force of the collision. It wasn’t a groan, now, but a growl, deep and throaty and wanting. His fangs pierced your lips, the taste of metal and rust spilling over your tongue as—

“Miguel.”

Finally, he tore himself away from you, baring his teeth at Jesse where she stood in the lab’s doorway. She didn’t flinch, only crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his aggression with a deadpan stare. “There’s a situation on Earth-241.”

Blunt, snipped, pointed. Miguel’s response was no better. “Why didn’t you have Lyla alert me?”

“She couldn’t. Apparently, she’s been ordered not to bother you when you’re with (Y/n).” Her attention drifted to you, panting and bleeding and still pinned underneath Miguel. Jesse stiffened, then went on. “You sure this is safe, man?”

“Trust me. I’ve run the simulations, done the math, taken all the necessary precautions. The canon won’t be affected.”

“The canon’s not what I’m worried about.”

She didn’t offer any further explanation, exiting as abruptly as she’d appeared. Miguel waited until she was out of sight, out of earshot before sighing and letting go of your neck. With no strength left to hold yourself up, you sank to the floor, fighting the urge to tremble, to shrink into yourself, to cry until you weren’t choking on the taste of your own blood. Miguel only sighed, running his fingers over the red lines you’d carved into his cheek before typing something into his watch. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, a kaleidoscope of bursting color and blinding light spiraling into existence in front of him. A portal, one you’d see him disappear into a hundred times. A portal that could that you home, if you ever dredged up the courage to throw yourself into it. “Stay out of trouble until I get back.”

Blearily, as if in a daze, you watched from a distance as he stepped out of this dimension and into another, the portal spiraling shut a moment later. When he was gone and the lab had gone dark, you lowered yourself to the ground, curled into yourself, and shut your eyes, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly before it stopped beating altogether.

It was pathetic, but you couldn’t seem to think of anything else to do.

~

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you couldn’t feel anything at all.

You weren’t numb, because numbness would’ve meant there was still a tether between your mind and your body, a link between spirit and flesh. It didn’t feel like you were floating on air, or consumed by static, because it felt like nothing. The void was all-consuming, swallowing you whole and keeping you suspended in that space of unliving consciousness, awake but inactive, aware but unable to do anything more than lie there, breathe, and wait for it to be over. You felt nothing. You never wanted to feel anything again.

Except, Miguel’s venom wasn’t so merciful as to leave in that void permanently. You could already make out a bruising soreness in the side of your neck, the harsh sting of his nails burrowing into your thigh, the seating heat of his body against yours as he rutted into you like a wild animal, like a man crazed. Your body had been bent in on itself, your knees pressed into your chest and your ankles thrown over his shoulders – anything that might’ve stopped him from thrusting as deeply, as harshly as he wanted to forced and manhandled out of his way. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the words ‘mating press’ resurfaced, but you buried them as quickly as you could. You didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t want to think about anything.

But, you didn’t have a choice. He was talking again – in Spanish, at first, a breathy string of curses you’d picked up during your time with him, then your name, low and drawn out, distorted by low growls until it’d been reduced to a near-incoherent mantra that would only be broken when his breath hitched, catching as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of you. One of his hands fell away from your thigh, landing next to his head and supporting his weight as he brought himself that much closer to you, as his mouth found yours in a clumsy, messy kiss. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, his fangs. You could taste the venom that’d left you so vulnerable to him. It burnt more than it should’ve.

“Mi cielo.” The words were muffled, spoken against your as he fell lower – to your collarbone, struggling to speak between haphazard love-bites to your chest. “My love, my light, my—” A sharp breath, a violent thrust. “I love you. We— We’re going to be happy together, this time.”

It was all you could do to lift your head, to force your lips to move against the weight of his waning paralysis. Your voice was barely audible, cracked and fractured in all the worst ways, but it was clear. Even against the sound of his skin crashing against yours, against the screaming agony of your own violation, it was clear.

“Am… am I ever going home?”

For a moment, Miguel paused, his eyes flickering towards you.

Then, you felt him smile against your skin and, the first time, it didn’t seem quite so pained. “You are,” he muttered, straightening his back. “And you’re never leaving again.”

Then, without hesitation, without mercy, he drove his fangs into your throat. You tried, weakly but desperately, to dislodge him, to claw at his back, to dig your nails into whatever you could reach and tear, but it was futile. His venom was already in your blood, coursing through your veins, rendering you as helpless as you’d always felt, around him. Soon enough, your arms were limp and useless around where they’d been strung around his neck, and you were pulled back into that unmoving, unfeeling, uncaring state. You didn’t try to resist it, this time.

It wasn’t like there had ever been anything you could do to save yourself from Miguel, anyway.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #yandere spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yanderecore #yancore

[stayinlimbo]

Wait For Your Love

pairing: lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, second love (kinda), fluff, minor angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of a previous relationship, brief descriptions of heartbreak, so much pining omg, college-aged, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.21k note:  i am proud i finished this one ngl. thank you @hwangism143 for giving me confidence. i'm not too sure how much i like this fic because it wrote itself but i hope you all still enjoy ♡

If there is anything Minho has learned about you in the years he’s known you, it’s that you’re not subtle. 

It’s something that’s never seemed to bother you, even after he pointed it out once during your shared lecture class, voice tinged with exasperation as you ogled at the upperclassman you’d been making heart eyes at for the nth time that week. You wear your heart on your sleeve like a badge of honor, displayed proudly for the entire world to see. 

Minho has witnessed every emotion be reflected on your face at least once. If asked, he could probably fill a whole book with expressions he didn’t even know were possible until he saw them on you, though the snapshots etched into his memory could never perfectly capture the art of facial contortion you’ve mastered. 

Your open nature was evident from the beginning. He can still picture the bright grin you gave him when you occupied the desk next to his on the first day of high school. The feel of your gaze flickering towards his seated form and the light bouncing of your knee as the teacher dismissed class made it no surprise when you twisted in your chair to ask for his name and if he’d like to eat lunch with you. 

It’s a curious thing, looking back on it, to see the immediate effect you had on him. Minho truly couldn’t help the pink hues coloring his cheeks as you tested his name on your tongue for the first time, nor the shy smile blossoming on his lips at the way you visibly lit up when he accepted your offer. He didn’t know you, didn’t know why you were so happy, didn’t know what this feeling was deep inside his chest; all he knew was that he really wanted to keep making you smile. 

He likes to think he’s been successful over the years, if the way your head tilts back in laughter at his silly antics and tight grip on his biceps to hold yourself up is anything to go by. It’s an admirable goal his younger self set, though he’s not sure when it shifted from wanting you to be happy to just...wanting you.

He wanted you when he introduced you to his cats for the first time, the gentlest smile playing on his lips at your barely contained excitement as they brushed past your legs. He wanted you when you tried to teach him how to swim, despite the poorly concealed judgmental looks you kept throwing at him when he clung to your shoulders tightly in the shallow water. He wanted you at your best, at your worst, and in all your in-betweens. He wanted to be by your side, even if he couldn’t have you. 

And he was. Minho was there to separate your clammy hands, wrung together by the anxiety flooding through your system, and give them a reassuring squeeze. He watched you take a calming breath, offering him one last nervous smile before walking a few rows over to ask out Chan, the upperclassman you wouldn’t stop gushing about. He offered you two thumbs up and the best smile he could muster as you bounded back to him, hands waving wildly in the air as you fervently spilled the details about how you scored a date on Saturday.

He was there to give the best “guy advice” a man with no relationship experience possibly could and third-wheeled more times than he’d like to admit, because, try as he might, he never was able to say no to you. 

No, Minho never left. If he did, who would be there to comfort you after you and Chan broke up right before his graduation? It didn’t matter that you were failing miserably at hiding your puffy face or eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall as you delved further into what happened. He didn’t care about the tears from your sobs staining his shirt and wetting his neck as he pulled you into his chest or the amount of tissue piled in his trash can. Minho chose to bear your heartbreak, be the anchor you needed because he loved you. He loved you in the way you deserved to be loved. 

He noticed the soft sighs escaping your past lips when he drove past somewhere that reminded you of Chan and the distant, longing look in your eyes when his name was mentioned. He saw your posture straighten, features lighting up slightly with a quiet “thank you” leaving your lips when he offered to bring you coffee every week before your morning class. Minho watched the weight on your shoulders be slightly lifted day by day as you reclaimed and channeled your love into yourself. He witnessed the smile finally reach your eyes, your laughter ringing in the air after he successfully predicted what the characters on the TV screen would say, and he swore he’d never felt prouder in his life.

Minho has learned all your mannerisms and would argue that he knows you better than he knows himself. Yet, there was a gleam in your eyes he’d never seen before when he leaned back on your couch and locked his eyes with yours. The way you quickly redirected your gaze was new too, and you even looked a little... shy. His eyes trailed down to your lap, where you fiddled with your fingers as he grabbed one of your surprisingly sweaty hands in comfort. Oh, it’s warm too. Weird. 

It was weird when you refused to look at him for longer than two seconds when he picked you up for class the next day. He could not figure out why you were biting down on your cheeks to hold back the smile threatening to break out any moment, nor did he understand why, two weeks later, your smile directed at him had changed—still radiant and beautiful but somehow softer, more loving.

Why are you looking at him as if you love him? 

You’re not subtle; you never have been. Minho can see it now in the way you’ve found more excuses to hold onto his arm when walking through heavy foot traffic, when you’re scared by the movie he teased you about, when you’re pulling him closer because you’re cold and don’t want to reach for the blanket resting beside your body. He can see your love overflowing in the same way as his, hands itching to intertwine with each other. 

He knows you know about his feelings for you. How could you not, when he can hear your panicky voice reverberating through your apartment’s front door, pacing footsteps creaking the floorboards as you repeatedly question one of your other friends about how you should ask him out? He really hopes the catch in his breath wasn’t too audible.

Minho doesn’t mind waiting; he’d wait forever if he had to. But it doesn’t look like he’ll have to wait for long, not when your hope-filled determination paired with a wide-eyed stare pierces his heart and soul as you wrench the door open and usher him through the entryway.  

And if he didn’t leave until the next morning, hand intertwined with yours as he dragged you to the nearest coffee shop, well, that wasn’t anyone else’s business.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee minho #skz x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fic #stray kids minho #skz #kpop imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #stray kids x you #lee know x you #lee know x y/n

[spacedace]

Here be the first little bit of the new DP x DC AU I warned about earlier where Tim, due to his constant repeated attempts at cloning Bart & Kon, accidentally summons slightly eldritch Elle who is very interested in what he’s up to.

As always feel free to run with this as a prompt if yall find anything here interesting :D

*

Tim didn’t mean to summon her.

He’d been in the lab, staring at the data on the latest failed attempts at cloning Kon and Bart and feeling like he was cracking in two. Eyes burning, chest tight, world spinning out into shifting impossible shadows around him as his mind and body struggled to push him forward into another day without sleep. The hush of water in the tanks, his unsteady steps on the cement floor, the chill seeping into his bones.

He stumbled and swayed through the maze of the lab, numbers dripping like blood down the screen as he tried to stare at the figures. He needed to try again, needed to bring them back, in whatever capacity he could. This time would work. This time he’d get it right.

When he saw her, feet clumsy as he rounded a corner, he thought she was just another hallucination.

How could she be anything else?

Skin like a polished mirror, hair like the white-hot flash of lightning, eyes as green as the depths of the Lazarus Pits. She floated before a tank, spectral and strange with a long wisping tail that drifted off into nothingness in place of legs, body shifting and changing before his eyes in ways that bodies should not be able to. Outside of the eyes the face was…not there. An impression of the shapes that you’d expect to see in a human face, like the Question’s. Sometimes though the features defined, sharpened. Mirror bright skin crackling as faces took shape in the glass.

In the low light of the lab, he almost imaged one of those faces was Kon’s. Dimples and freckles and high cheek bones and the slant of a silhouette that haunted Tim’s dreams at night. A flicker of her lightining hair and it was gone. Smoothed back into soft blankness once more.

He watched from the of the aisle as she lifted too-long mirror shard fingers and rest them gently on the glass as she seemed to peer in at the lifeless body inside.

Attempt 76.

One of his tries with Bart. The organs hadn’t grown right during the age-up process. Tim had cried for that one as he had for all the others. As he had for Bart and Kon when they had died. As he still did as the fact that it was more maddened grief than hope that kept him pushing forward anyway.

He closed his eyes to the hallucination at the end of the aisle. Breathed deep and steady. It might be gone when he opened his eyes again. It might not be. It might be something - someone - else when he dares look next. He’d been through this time and time again over the days and weeks he’d been throwing himself at this agonizing wall. The only difference this time was the intricate strangeness, the total lack of recognition he had for the figure, baring the moment he almost saw Kon in its face.

Coffee. Maybe some harder stimulants, if he had any left. New data to review, new attempts to be made. He didn’t have time for the effects of sleep deprivation.

Tim opened his eyes.

He jerked back as he came face to face with himself, warped and strange and green in the reflective face of the being where it now hovered so close that if it breathed he would feel it upon his face.

She tilted her head at him, curious. Hands rose to cup his face, rest on his shoulders, wrap around his arms, cradle his hands. More hands than he’d seen before. More hands than he was able to truly comprehend, stomach souring as his eyes stung and strained in the attempt to look at the impossible warping of her body. Despite the glint of shattered glass that made up her fractured palms and splintered silver fingers, her hands were soft and warm where they curled around him. Almost human in the way they held him in place, the hold pleasantly firm.

He’d never had a doting elder aunt to pinch his cheeks and demand to get a look at him, but he imagined this might be what that felt like. The way the being shifted her head from side to side, his reflection warping in the curved reflection of the planes of her featureless face, added to the strange idea. His hallucinations didn’t normally touch him, though. And never so…kindly.

Tim felt his blood go cold as he realized it might not be a figment of his fracturing mind floating before him.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to shift backwards, to slip out of the many grasping hands before the softness turned sharp and began to cut into him. He felt something cool against the back of his legs, hair standing on end as static electricity built up on his skin where he brushed the trailing tail he hadn’t noticed her curl around him. The entity leaned in close, the depthless green of her glowing eyes consuming Tim’s entire field of vision, and he was flooded by the sudden, horrible awareness of being Known.

The world fell away from him, his stomach lurching with the sick-sweet feel of free fall that used to exhilarate him when he’d first become Robin and had flown from rooftops dangling by his grapple and his belief in the magic being Robin instilled in him. The lab, the equipment, the piles of data and desperate scribbles, the failed clones, Tim himself. All swept away in the flood of green and the roar of lightning and the cool press of glass.

He came to would could have been minutes or centuries later. Gasping and sick on the cold cement floor, shivering as he dry heaved. His mouth full of salt and copper and the burning crackle of ozone at the back of his throat.

For a moment, disoriented and dizzy, he thought it had all been a hallucination after all. Or some fractious dream visited upon him by his torn and tattered mind after he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion on the lab floor. That the entity truly had been just in his mind, a consequence of his refusal to rest until his work was done.

Then he felt the glass-cool fingers running through his hair, the warm hand rubbing at his back, heard the low murmurs of reassurance in a voice that was almost, almost human.

He spasmed as he tried to jerk away, hissing with the sharp sting of pins and needles dancing over every nerve. His limbs were heavy and clumsy, and he was crashing back to the cold floor under his own weight before he could even try and drag himself away. His breathing came in short, aching gasps as he tried to twist away, only managing to roll to his back to see the entity where it sat calmly looking down at him.

She had a face now. A solid, steady one that fit her in a way that made him think it must be her real one, though what that meant exactly he didn’t know. The glowing eyes had dimmed and shifted, more human looking with black pupils and white sclera. Button nose marked with silver-tarnish freckles that spread over her cheeks too. A mouth, with lips curled into an apologetic smile. Her hair, still shifting as if caught in a wind that wasn’t there, was still the bright white it’d been before, but the lighting of the locks had settled into faint crackles between the curls. Whatever she was, whatever she’d done to him, he could look at her without feeling like his mind might just crack in two.

“Wha-“ His voice cracked, painful and hoarse like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. Swallowing around the burn in his throat, he choked out a hissed, “What are you?”

Her head tilted in that curious slant again, more human features giving her a bright, youthful look as she peered down at him questioningly. “You summoned me, Little Gaffer, shouldn’t you know?”

*

Gaffer is a term used for a glass crafter, as well as light technicians for stage/movie productions. I’m using it as the term for the person who creates a Clone, with the clone themselves being a Mirrorborn, and the person they are cloned from being called the clone’s Reflected. Gaffer is probably a bit of a stretch for this, technically I think someone who makes mirrors would be called a Glazier (Glaziers are glassmakers) but I wasn’t vibing that as much. Besides I like the vibe of glass + light = mirror in a way.

Anyway, opening volley of a new AU where Tim ends up becoming like a warlock to Elle to get his loved ones back, while Elle is just having the time of her sorta eldritch little life watching this absolute mess of a human wreck shit and cause so much chaos even without the powers she starts giving him.

(Elle in this is both the God Queen of Clones/Mirrorborn as well as the Ancient of the Speedforce (which I’ve decided is called the Ever Onward in the Infinite Realms, because I literally can’t be stopped from trying to make normal DC things sound mystical because spooky Infinite Realms aesthetics haha)

Have a tiny bit more written for this, but don’t know how much I’ll end up writing for it with all the other projects I have currently lol, so if anyone is interested feel free to run with it as you so desire haha

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc writing prompt #Tim Drake #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #god queen of clones Elle #ancient of the speedforce elle #unhinged tim but that's not a surprise #eldritch dani #kon kent #bart allan #mostly just their dead clones but still they're relevant #warlock tim #patron dani #unreliable narrator #only for a bit though #yall thought Tim was bad in canon just imagine what he'd get up to with fucky bullshit ghost powers #tim accidentally ending up as the leader of a cult because he actually is a prophet for a god like being #Kon and Bart are gonna be SO CONFUSED when they come back to life to this shit #Cassie just mad she joined the wrong Death Be Gone cult #also was anyone gonna tell me Cassie joined a cult after Kon died or was I supposed to just find that while reading wiki pages at 4am

[l0ve-dov3]

bedroom floor !

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚👒⊹♡

luke castellan x demeter! reader

summary: in which luke talks to his ex-girlfriend on a vacation with the senior campers.

warnings: just a naughty word or two :^

word count: 1.3k !

authors note: this one-shot is an ode to the song bedroom floor by sneaky peaches and the fuzz. definitely not sure about how i feel on this one-shot, but i tried my best to tie the ‘hopelessly heartbroken’ vibes of the song into this fic. can’t tell if it worked or not, soooo!

Luke sat in the back of a crowded van, listening to the loud chatter between his friends. It was summer, and the senior campers managed to get Chiron’s permission for a beach trip. This would be great, of course—for everyone needs a vacation sometimes—if you hadn’t broken up with him about a month prior.

It wasn’t exactly bad. You were far too sweet for a angry, heartless breakup like that. But Gods, did he miss you. I mean truly, deeply miss you, and he was hoping by now he’d be over it.

Spoiler, he wasn’t.

Because now, he was pretending to pay attention to Chris, more focused on you singing with Clarisse in the passenger seat.

“And he’s gone. How surprising.” Chris groaned, realizing that Luke was in his own little world. Silena chuckled, seeing Luke’s dazed expression next to Chris’ blank stare of frustration.

As a child of Aphrodite, and friend to the former couple, she often fell victim to Castellan’s bouts of love and sadness. She’d watched him ramble about how gorgeous you looked, wishing he could kiss you the way he used to. But, she had also let him lean on her shoulder, crying into the stars about how he’d follow you anywhere.

On the other hand, she knew how deeply it hurt you to break up with the golden boy. You had only done it out of fear, your recent nightmares pointing to a quest of some kind. You were scared. Scared of how the quest would turn out, and even more scared of how Luke may handle it, so you broke up with him.

You tried to ignore your guilt, but it kept coming back to taunt you. Your plan was to fix that today.

The car slowed to a halt, and the music was turned down, effectively stopping your singing and jumping. Clarisse leaned her elbow on the passenger seat, looking back to her friends with a smirk. “Alright bitches, our vacation has officially begun.”

The car filled with excited cheers, and in a mad rush to get out the car, everyone found themselves basking in the warmth of Jones Beach. The heat was refreshing, in a sense; a reminder that they were out of camp grounds and free to do as they pleased.

Y/n ran off to the edge of the water, her bags long forgotten in her excitement to be near the sea. She stood there, grinning at the waters edge, with a white coverup hiding her swimsuit from view.

“Come on Y/n, show us the swimsuit!” Clarisse whistled to you, earning a soft chuckle as she carried over your stuff. Since the breakup, you and Clarisse had become closer friends, jokingly flirting with each other and pushing each other’s buttons. You’d grown to find comfort in her mask of aggression, knowing that she was a true friend deep down.

“Don’t get too excited!” You yelled back to her, wiggling your shoulders exaggeratively and earning laughs from your group of friends.

As the laughing began to die, you untied your coverup, letting it drop to the ground dramatically. Clarisse and Chris whistled, Silena clapping and hooting in a bout of approval; but Luke sat there, eyes wide with adoration, trying—and failing—not to stare for too long.

You were wearing a light blue one piece, made with a perfect bow in the center of your chest. It hugged your hips comfortably, and he watched as you spun in a circle to show your friends the whole thing.

It was nothing revealing, nor outlandish, it was just such a reflection of you. The sweet, soft, bow-loving girl he always knew.

And he needed you, unlike anything in the world. He needed you now, and forever.

⋆·˚ ༘ *👒

The first two hours of your beach trip were spent splashing each other and swallowing too much ocean water. Most recently, you played water chicken on Silena’s shoulders, with Chris fighting against you on Luke’s. The ravenette spared glances at you every few seconds, making Chris lose to a solid push right to his chest. The boys splashed and laughed in a faux rivalry, throwing random accusations as to why they had lost, and you watched them lovingly as you made your way out of the water.

You decided you wanted to sunbathe for a bit, growing tired of the endless swimming and dunking your friends into the water. Sunbathing was much more relaxing, and it would give you time to read the book you’d been meaning to start.

Watching as you laid down on your towel, Luke slowly stopped splashing Chris. Even he would admit it was creepy, how often he stopped to look at you, but this time he couldn’t help but indulge. His heartbeat sped up with every passing second, wanting nothing but to walk through the sand and be with you. Wanting love. Wanting you. Wanting things to be normal again.

“Chris, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Chris shrugged, already knowing where his friend would go.

The child of Hermes swam up to the shore, anxiously walking up to the spot where you lay. You could feel his presence before you saw him, and your heart tightened as he took a seat right beside you.

“Y/n.” He said gingerly, trying not to let his anxiousness bleed into his words.

“Hey hero.” You sighed softly in return, sitting up to face him properly. You knew that he wanted to talk, and you knew you needed to. You made a mistake in breaking up with him, and he deserved to know. But, just as your lips parted, his own words came spilling out.

“I miss you, Y/n.” He began, taking a deep breath, “You were—and you still are—the best thing to ever come out of this shitty life of being a half-blood. You—You are gentle, and kind, and soft, and I can be slow with you. I can live and love slow with you.”

His words made your heart stutter, your breathing going shallow with the weight of it all. You looked down at your feet, tears threatening to fall, as he rambled about you.

“You are my angel, my flower, my sun and my stars. I would follow you anywhere, Y/n, but I have to know why…” He paused, swallowing any fear left in his stomach, “Why wouldn’t you follow me?”

His final words came out in a solemn whisper, one that made you shiver with guilt at how you’d hurt this poor boy. What you thought would help had only harmed the both of you, and now, you were paying for it; paying for the way he loved you so unconditionally.

“I want to, Luke.” You whispered, tears landing on your towel beneath you.

Luke felt his heart shatter. He watched as you wiped away tears stiffly, trying to hide the way you slowly broke in front of him. With a cautious hand, he reached up to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb the way he always did when you cried. His calloused hand felt like it melted into you, a sensation so familiar that it made you cry harder. You missed him. You missed this, and the way he held you.

So you leaned in, bringing a hand to the side of his neck. He looked into your eyes, tearful and soft, and planted a passionate kiss on your shaking lips. The butterflies in your stomach awoke from their slumber, and your lips molded to his in the same way they used to. You tasted like strawberries and vanilla, and he brought you in further to taste you just a bit more.

“I want to, Luke.” You breathed, “I want to follow you anywhere.”

#luke x reader #luke castellan #ex girlfriend #ex boyfriend #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #demeter #hermes #luke castellan x reader #x reader #beach trip #beach episode #aesthetic #longing

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Chapter 1

I woke up early on the day of the reaping. Blinking awake slowly, head spinning from the effects of what even Haymitch from district 12 would class as too much alcohol, not that I’d really ever spoken to him, just from observation. I shuffled into my fluffy slippers and stumbled over to the table in the middle of my kitchen. Sitting down heavily, I groaned as lightning shot through my head and I scrubbed a hand across my face, reaching out to grab a glass of water and downing it in one gulp. Once my head stopped spinning I made myself a cup of coffee, mixing in milk and spooning in an inordinate amount of sugar, I made my way outside and sat on a chair, sipping the too sweet mixture from time to time, hands curled around the mug as I gazed out at the sunrise. Pinks and purples blended together, swirling with orange hues as it got lighter with every passing second. The sun rose above the horizon, bathing me in golden light as I breathed in the fresh air, letting go of all my fears and doubts for a moment to just take in the beauty of the world around me.

The trees swaying gently in the breeze, leaves rustling, songbirds chirping. One landed on my shoulder, twittering a joyful tune in my ear. I tapped my foot to the rhythm, singing quietly, whispering lyrics swept away by the wind. A ringing of the bell snapped me out of it, a harsh reminder of reality, of the games. I gave a grim smile and walked back inside, swigging back the last drops of my drink. Once back in the house I filled up the bathtub with steaming hot water, drizzling some scented oil in it and immediately stepping in. The water burned my skin, turning it red and raw, irritating the cuts on my feet as they stung and I hissed in a vague degree of pain. I grabbed a cloth and scrubbed my body viciously, stripping it of any dead skin and dirt that had collected over the past few days as I had moped around the house just waiting. My hands grabbed a bottle and I poured the contents onto my hair, scraping my nails across my scalp, rinsing it, then tipping a bottle of conditioner into it, massaging the smooth pink substance into my hair, making it smell like honeysuckle, sweet and overpowering.

I drained the bathtub and stepped out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. I picked through my clothes, discarding some to one side and placing others over the mirror in my room. I ended up with three options and I frowned as I assessed them. I didn't want something that would make me seem weak, but I still needed to portray the innocence of a child that the Capitol loved me for. Eventually, I settled for a light green dress that fell just above my knees, I studied myself closely, the dress clung to my upper half but flared out at the waist, the loose sleeves covering the mark on my wrist. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, it was perfect; for a second I looked like a girl. A normal girl who hadn't been affected by witnessing death, who got to live a happy ordinary life with her family. And for just that one second I wished selfishly with all my heart that I could be with the person the universe chose for me, because he loved me. I snapped out of my daze and stared into the mirror, light reflecting off the surface and bouncing around my room. I turned away and face planted on my bed, the mattress muffling my scream of anger. My fingers gripped the sheets tightly, refusing to let go for a second as my breathing quickened and tears pricked my eyes. Now is not the time to cry, I berated myself silently, my nose still buried in the bed. Now was the time to stand up and show that I was not afraid, that they could throw anything at me and I would come back stronger. I sniffled slightly, sitting back up and dangling my legs off the bed as I wiped away a few stray tears. I gazed at my reflection again. So different from the confident girl I had been before, now a pathetic weakling, if that's what a few minutes could do to me then I hated to see what damage hours or days could inflict on me.

I heard people talking outside and moved silently to the window.

“Don't worry, it’ll all be fine.” I knew that voice.

“But what if I get reaped,” I knew that one as well, “I can't go back in there.” I peaked out to see Finnick and Annie, engrossed in conversation.

“I promise I won't let anything happen to you,” Finnick continued, gripping her arms and staring at her, “I promise.”

I smiled sadly at the sight, it hurt a little, it always did but I was happy for them. I truly was. I couldn't let my feelings get in the way of their romance, it was quite clear to me that they belonged together, the universe makes mistakes and it seemed like he and I were one of them. They walked back into his house and I stepped back into my own room, closing the window behind myself and trapping the cold air inside. Shivering, I picked out a white knitted cardigan and pulled it on, the soft fabric providing a thin layer of warmth from the chill. The clock on my wall struck 11, I breathed out deeply and walked downstairs, slipping on a pair of beige sandals, tying the brown leather just around my ankle in a bow. Taking a last look around my house I trailed a hand along some of the pictures lining the walls, photos of my mum and I smiling and laughing together from when I was little. It seemed so long ago now, I was no longer a child and my mum was no longer alive. My hand finished on the last picture, the most recent, one I had snapped a couple of years ago of Finnick and I. It was one of the last times I had spoken to him, before Annie. It had been after a particularly nasty nightmare and he had cooked breakfast, pancakes with syrup. He smiled as I got the sticky substance on my cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. I had laughed and held the camera up, both of us smiling widely as my finger pressed down to take the shot.

It was a reminder of happier times, as happy as they could be at least. I made to step out the door but I remembered something at the last second. My shoes. My ballet shoes. If I was going back then I wanted them as my token. Granted they weren't the pair I had the first time, those had long since worn out, but that didn't change the way every new pair of shoes made me feel. What they made me remember.

I had been 4 when I first decided I wanted to dance. I had seen the Mayor's daughter wearing a pair of ballet shoes and dancing in the garden with them on. I immediately fell in love, and ran home to my mother, so excited I talked about them for hours. Every day from then on I would go and watch the girl dance, I would copy her movements until I could do each and every one with the drop of a hat. Then one day a few years later they caught me watching. They had beat me black and blue and sent me running home crying, knees scraped and clothes torn. My mother had comforted me, singing a lullaby as she rocked me to sleep. The next day I woke up to a pile of books on the table and a box topped with a ribbon. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion but my mother smiled gently and nudged me forwards.

“Open it,” she said, “I think you’ll like it.” My eyes widened as I opened the books, there were pages upon pages of text, instructions, they were tattered and dirty but they taught me everything I knew about ballet. How to do the steps, how to strengthen my body and become more flexible, how to fully immerse myself in the dance and feel the music. Then I turned my attention to the package. I ripped the ribbon off and was greeted with a pair of ballet shoes. Slightly worn and ripped but in my eyes they were perfect. I shrieked in excitement and threw my arms around my mother as she caught me laughing.

“Calm down little bird,” she said, ”it's an early birthday present. And besides,” she continued a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I want free tickets to all your shows.”

I nodded my head, pulling away to look at her.

“Do you think I can actually do it?” I asked innocently. Her gaze became serious.

“You have nothing to prove to them, little bird, you hear me. But they will always look down on you, so you can either let them or you can prove that you are more than what they see.” She paused for a second, “You can do it my little bird, and you will be incredible.” I burrowed into her and she wrapped a soft blanket around us, cradling me like I was a baby again. She passed me the packaging and I lifted the shoes out, holding them carefully, as if the slightest move could break them. My thin fingers traced along the fabric, smoothing the heel over and tapping on the box, grinning in delight at the hollow sound it made.

“Go on,” my mother encouraged, “try them.”

I scrambled to the floor and pulled the shoes on, they were a bit loose but I simply tied the ribbons as tightly as possible and tucked the knot in. I stared down at them as I stood there, they were so beautiful and delicate. I wobbled onto the tips of them, my feet pointed, balancing on the very ends of my toes. My mother clapped as I walked around the small living room in them, being ever so careful to not slip over and ruin them. When I finally took them off, my feet had little blisters on them, I didn't care. I would endure anything to prove myself, to show that I wasn't just another district girl. I went to bed the happiest I'd ever been that night. My mother stroking my hair as I drifted into the dreamworld, filled with thoughts of dancing and performing where everything was perfect.

In the present I shook myself out of my reminiscing and grabbed a pair of the shoes, ribbons dangling loose, tucking them into a small bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I slammed the front door behind myself and strode out of victor's village, down the gravel track to the town. The sharp stones cut my bare feet in pinpricks and I winced, regretting my choice of footwear.

A light breeze brushed against my face and I pulled two pearl hair grips out of my bag, twisting the front strands of my hair and pinning them up together. As I walked, I was surrounded by nature, trees filled with green leaves and song birds, beautiful flowers the colours of jewels, fluffy clouds overhead. I breathed in the fresh air just before I reached town, something took hold in me and I twirled, laughing as the skirt of the dress flew out in a circle, it swished around me as I revelled in a moment of happiness, dancing around like a child, spinning wildly, leaping in the air with my arms spread wide for a final minute of joy. My cheeks flushed as I walked past the peacekeepers who had witnessed my outburst, they stood still, guarding the entrance to town. Making sure no one could escape. I made my way to the justice building, ignoring the looks people threw my way. Disgust, worry, pity a few of them among thousands. I strode to the desk where I had to register.

“Name.” The peacekeeper asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” I answered, holding out my arm for them to take my blood.

They gestured to the stage and I made my way up, taking in the thousands of faces looking up at me. Children probably grateful they wouldn't have to worry this year, parents glad they wouldn't have to lose another child yet. I look to the side at Annie and Mags, both deep in conversation as if they hadn't even noticed my arrival. Mags hugged her reassuringly and my heart cracked a little, wishing I had someone to comfort me like that. I turned back to stare at the wooden floor of the stage remembering the last time I stood here seven years ago after my name had been called.

I had been shaking like a leaf, terrified as I stuttered how old I was. The looks of pity sent my way by everyone and the horrified look on my mothers face as I had walked up escorted by peacekeepers. Lysander read off the boy's name but I couldn't hear anything, my heart pounding in my ears. I had kept my head down as I was led to a room for my last goodbyes. My mother rushed in and held me close as I cried and she wiped my tears then held my face in her hands and told me.

“You fight little bird. You hide and then you fight, you understand. You come home to me, I'll be waiting.” Then she pushed my pointe shoes into my arms and kissed me on the forehead before she was led out, giving me one last smile as I gripped the shoes. Then I was taken to the train and we were on our way to the Capitol

I smiled prettily for the Capitol, shyly answering any of their questions. ‘Yes I was a bit nervous’, ‘I loved to dance’, ‘Of course I could give them a tiny demonstration’, ‘I would try to win, for my mother but I had never known my father’. That got their attention, the poor little girl from district 4, no father, only a mother who she loved dearly, more than her own life. So when I got into the arena I did what mother told me, I hid and I fought and I got out but when I came home she wasn't waiting for me. She was gone. They told me it was an illness, one that was untreatable. So she was gone and I was left alone. I often thought I would have been better off dead. At least then I'd be with her.

All went silent and I was pushed out of my thoughts as our escort walked onto the stage, dressed outlandishly as always in the flashiest colours and cuts of fabric.

“Welcome all to the Quarter Quell,” he starts, “Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.” The usual video starts to play and I roll my eyes as I hear the words ‘War, terrible war’. It's the same every year, a montage and voiceover which has no purpose anymore. We know what happened, we know what's happening now and we really don't need to be reminded of it. After what seems like an age the clip ends and Lysander claps excitedly, he’s the only one and the noise rings in my ears.

“I get goosebumps every time,” he gushes cheerfully,”It just gets me every time. And now for the moment you've all been waiting for, it is time to choose our tributes for this very special year. First the boys,” He walks over to the huge bowl containing one small piece of paper and dramatically dips his hand in. He picks up the paper and unfolds it painfully slowly. “Finnick Odair.” He announces and I have to fight back a cry as he steps forwards, waving and smiling at the cameras, my fingers itching at my wrist as the mark burns from the close proximity to him. Lysander grins almost maniacally as he congratulates him on this honour. Patting him on the back and exclaiming how exciting this will be

“And now time for the ladies.” He says and walks over to the other bowl with three pieces of paper in. I stand nervously, twisting my hands in the sleeves of my jumper as he reaches in and waves his hand around for a minute before plucking a piece out. He shakes it in front of him and unfolds it as slowly as the first one. I breathe shakily, in out, in out. He reads the name off the slip of paper.

“Annie Cresta!”

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know and I’ll add you to the next part!

#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #finnick x reader #angst #thg x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #implied finnick x annie

[wholoveseggs]

since I heard you were taking requests 🫣 maybe an elijah fic where him and the reader had just gotten married and are off on their honeymoon somewhere, participating in some very smutty lovemaking, please? 🤭

Je t'aime, Je t'adore

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

You and Elijah are enjoying your honeymoon in the south of France, doing what newlyweds do best.

~Thanks for the request anon ♡♡ ~ I hope this is smutty enough -xo-

3k words - Warnings: smut, absolutely no plot, oral sex, blow jobs, public sex, sand, french.

You stepped out onto the balcony of the villa, breathing in the ocean air, and letting your eyes roam the coast, taking it all in. You could get used to this, you thought, as you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a strong chest. You leaned into the embrace and turned your face up for a kiss.

"Hey you," Elijah whispered against your lips, "I was wondering where you'd gone. How's the view?"

"Amazing," you sighed, leaning further in and relaxing into his arms, "I can't believe we're actually here. And we have the whole place to ourselves, it's like a dream."

Elijah's hands stroked down your sides, coming to rest on your hips. "It's all real, my love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck.

It had only been a few hours since you had married Elijah in a small private ceremony. And now here you are, on your honeymoon in the south of France. He had been planning it for weeks and hadn't given you much information at all. All you knew was that you were leaving town and to pack light, everything else would be provided for.

All that was left for you to do was enjoy your stay and the company of your new husband.

"Veux-tu aller nager? (Do you want to take a swim?)" Elijah asked, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled and nodded, since you arrived in France he had been randomly dropping French phrases into conversations and you loved the way it sounded coming from his lips. 

You walked down the stairs of the villa to the private beach, holding Elijah's hand and listening to him tell you more about the area. He was so cute when he was talking about his favorite things, and it made you love him even more, if that was possible.

The sand was hot under your feet as you stepped off the bottom step. It was still warm from the sun which was setting in the distance, casting beautiful shades of pinks, reds, and oranges across the sky.

"This is beautiful," you breathed, watching the way the light played across the water, reflecting in the ripples of the waves.

"Just like you," Elijah said, looking at you with adoration.

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze, as you smiled bashfully at him. His eyes were intense and dark and you wondered how it was possible for one person to have such a profound effect on you.

Elijah took your hand again, leading you closer to the water, where you both stripped down to your underwear, leaving your clothes on the sand, before wading in. The water was refreshing, cooling down your overheated skin, and it was amazing to feel so connected to the natural world like this.

As the temperature continued to drop, you waded a little closer to your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Elijah turned his head to capture your lips in his, holding you close as the water lapped at your skin, and you both knew where this would inevitably end up. His lips kissed a trail down to your neck, nibbling your soft skin and leaving wet kisses as he went.

"Do you want to go inside?" you whispered breathlessly, knowing that you couldn't wait much longer to touch and taste him.

"Why bother?" Elijah murmured, moving down to your chest, his hands gliding up your back to unclasp your bra. He dipped his head down to tease your breast with his teeth and tongue, while his hands pulled the scrap of material from your body, and flung it carelessly towards the sand.

"Someone could see us," you giggled, glancing around at the shoreline, thankful it was completely empty.

Elijah smirked, leading you backwards into shallower water. "Eh bien, chérie, donnons-leur un spectacle (Well then, darling, let's give them a show)," he teased, lifting you up in his arms, and walking a few strides to the beach.

You squealed as you felt the chill of the air wash over your skin as you exited the water, feeling better when he placed you on the sun-warmed sand. Elijah admired your body and took in every detail from your flushed cheeks, to your stiff nipples, to the heat radiating from your core.

He looked so good, with just a pair of soaking wet briefs on, his muscles glistening in the last rays of light from the sun. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, he looked downright sinful and you couldn't wait another second, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

Elijah leaned over you and you watched in admiration as he gripped the waistband of your panties and dragged them down, his eyes never leaving yours as his gaze burned with desire.

He placed a searing kiss to your lips as he pressed his body against yours then pulled your leg up and wrapped it around his hips. Your back arched off the sand as he brought you closer to him, feeling his erection straining against his briefs.

He grinned and began trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, sucking the skin gently. Your breath hitched as he nipped down your chest, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin around your breasts. He continued moving his mouth down your body, kissing along your stomach, going lower, and lower, licking the water droplets from your skin. His hands followed, caressing you everywhere. It felt like electricity was shooting through your veins, making your stomach flutter.

The sand beneath you shifted, as he licked your inner thigh and spread your legs wider. Finally, you felt his warm breath against your clit, and then his mouth on your pussy, his tongue licking you slowly, taking his time. Elijah hummed as his nose nudged against you, his tongue teasing you, tasting every part of you. 

Your hands then tangled in his wet hair and gripped the dark locks as he began circling your clit, licking it rhythmically. He knew your body so well, every move he made was calculated and perfectly executed. You loved this, the way he devoured you until you couldn't remember your own name.

Your panting breaths were sharp and quick and as he began flicking his tongue in a faster rhythm, you were close to losing your mind with how good it felt. Your mind was a blur, all you could focus on was the intense desire to release the pressure building inside you. His grip around your legs tightened as he pulled you closer, his hot mouth finally coaxing you to release. Your eyes fluttered closed as your orgasm hit you, harder than you expected, legs shaking as you let out a low moan.

Elijah chuckled, obviously loving how quickly he was able to make you come undone. He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth as he returned to his feet.

"Let's go inside, my love," he whispered, lifting you gently.

You smiled as you got to your feet and playfully began running towards the house, leaving him behind. He quickly caught up with you, pinning you against the wall of the villa and kissing you passionately.

He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him and running your hands through his dark hair. He carried you into the shower, pressing your back against the cold tiles as he deepened the kiss. His hands were hot on your skin, gripping your hips hard enough to leave a bruise as he ground his erection against you, his soaking briefs the only layer separating you.

You pushed on his chest slightly and he let you down. Before slowly descending onto your knees, pressing kisses to his hot skin as you traveled down his torso, taking care to appreciate all of him. When you reached the waistband of his briefs, you dragged your nails down his stomach, teasing him and drawing a low growl from his throat.

You peeled the dripping wet material off and his cock sprung free. You looked up at him, his wet hair now sticking out in multiple directions, his breath ragged, pupils blown as he watched you take him into your hand and gently lick the tip. You stroked him a few times before swirling your tongue around his head.

"Est-ce que mon mari aime ça? (Does my husband like that?)" you asked in an innocent voice, stroking him even more.

Elijah grunted an agreement, threading his fingers through your hair and applying some gentle pressure to the back of your head, encouraging you to take more of him. You could tell he was close already, his abdominal muscles tense as you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand.

You took him all the way down your throat, bracing your hands on his hips as you pressed your face into his pelvis, letting out a low hum. This immediately sent him over the edge, his hands in your hair and releasing his hot cum down your throat.

You did this several times, sliding your tongue along his cock and tasting his release. You swallowed and licked your lips, glancing up at him, he looked so beautiful with the warm water cascading down his toned body.

He turned off the shower and in an instant you found yourself lifted in his arms, as he vamp-sped the both of you to the bed. He pinned you to the mattress, pressing his body against yours, kissing down your neck to your collarbone. He leaned back and spread your legs apart, pressing his hands into the back of your thighs, pushing them up next to your waist.

He slowly pushed just the tip of his cock inside you, before pulling out and tapping his cock against your clit, cum leaking out of the tip as he teased you. He repeated his actions, almost driving you mad with want. He let out a soft groan as he did so, watching your reactions with great interest. He began to graze your clit with his thumb, watching his cock slowly slide into you, the wet sound of your cunt filling the air. 

"Hmmm," Elijah moaned, as he sank deeper inside of you. He was always careful, taking his time, stretching you slowly. 

After several minutes of slow fucking, his thrusts began to quicken. He looked beautiful and serene, his hair framing his face, lips parted and his eyes boring into yours. He brushed your hair back from your face and stared into your eyes, "Ma belle épouse (My beautiful wife)"

He felt amazing, and you could feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm. Your toes curled, and your body relaxed into the bed, letting Elijah do all the work. You couldn't believe you would get to enjoy him, like this for the rest of your life.

Elijah withdrew his cock and began rubbing it along your opening. He stroked himself, cum spilling from his tip and running down his length before he sunk back into you. The sound of his cock sliding in and out was so erotic. The wet slapping of skin on skin, the slow steady rocking of Elijah's hips as his cum leaked out, dripping onto the sheets. 

"Jouis sur ma bite, douce fille (Cum on my cock, sweet girl)" Elijah said, his voice low and gravelly.

You weren't far from exploding. The combination of his slow deliberate movements and the constant, but gentle stimulation of your clit, had you tumbling over the edge. Elijah pressed his lips to yours as you climaxed, moaning into his mouth as you tightened around him. He smiled, kissing along your neck, nipping at your ear as he increased his pace.

"I can't believe you are my wife," Elijah hummed in wonder, and the softness in his voice had you melting, sinking into him as your eyes locked with his and you gave a dreamy smile. He was the love of your life, there would never be anyone else and he held your entire heart and soul.

"Je veux que tu sois enveloppé de soie, recouvert de miel, alors je pourrai prendre mon temps, explorer chaque centimètre de cette belle peau. Qu'en pensez-vous, Mme Mikaelson? (I want you wrapped in silks, covered in honey, then I can take my time, exploring every inch of this beautiful skin. What do you think of that, Mrs. Mikaelson?)" He drawled, lowering himself to drag his lips down your jaw, sucking marks onto your neck as he went. You closed your eyes, sighing in delight as you turned your head, giving him even more access.

"Je pense que ça a l'air divin, M. Mikaelson (I think it sounds divine, Mr. Mikaelson)” you hummed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach at the thought.

Elijah brought his lips to yours in a kiss that left you breathless and dizzy. Rolling you so you were lying side by side, your legs intertwined. He reached down, taking your leg, lifting it to rest it over his hip. You moaned as the tip of his cock grazed over your clit, then sank deeper inside you. Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. 

His mouth trailed from your shoulder to your neck and he littered kisses and gentle love bites along your heated skin as his body ground against yours, the room quiet other than the soft sighs and quiet murmurs. It was blissful, and you never wanted this to end.

You began panting as you grew closer, Elijah's hand moved to your lower back, pushing you into him as you both chased your highs. It wasn't long before your pussy began to tighten around his cock, he held you in his arms as you let yourself fall over the edge.

He gently pushed you back so you were underneath him once more, lips locking together in an embrace so heated, so raw, it sent an electrifying current coursing through your veins. This profound feeling, a burning love like never before, could never be quenched. You were both totally consumed by the passion you had for each other.

Elijah pressed slow, passionate kisses to your lips as he slowed his movements, pressing so deep inside of you, his body flush with yours. A stray strand of dark hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it gently back, drinking him in.

He took your hands and wove your fingers together, pinning them to the bed. Every moment was bliss as the heat continued to rise, your breathing accelerating as your movements intensified.

But even this wasn't enough, his whole body needed to be wrapped around yours, to touch every part of you that he could. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent that lingered on your skin. You tangled your fingers in his hair as he whispered against your ear, your breathy sighs falling over each other.

"Je t'aime, je t'adore, à jamais ma chère (I love you, I adore you, forever my dear)."

He captured your mouth again, unable to get enough of you, swallowing your moans as his thrusts got harder. His hands ran down your thighs, lifting them up and encouraging you to wrap them tightly around his waist. His fingers were in your hair, gripping softly, guiding your head into position so he could kiss you deeply.

The tension in the pit of your belly was tight, ready to spring at any moment, but you could never tire of how he touched you. How you moved as one, sharing your feelings through the physical.

Elijah smiled down at you, his forehead pressed against yours as he pounded you into the bed. Your lips barely inches apart. His stomach began to clench and his thrusts became frantic, sloppy. He was so close, and it would only take a few more strokes for him to tumble over the edge.

His cock was slick, sliding in and out of your tight, wet cunt. And you looked absolutely divine. The way his name had fallen off your tongue, how you had pleaded with him to finish inside you, never to stop. There was no sound sexier in the world to him. 

He pressed his lips to yours as he let go, letting out a low groan as he spilled his cum inside you. You moaned softly as you milked his cock, and ground against him, your breathing heavy and your hair sticking to your sweaty skin. You smiled and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he relaxed on top of you, his cock still buried deep. He nipped at your breasts, his hands roaming your body, enjoying the last few moments of euphoria.

Afterwards you lay sprawled together, arms and legs draped over each other, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your side. The sheets were a rumpled mess and you wanted nothing more than to never move again and instead bask in the afterglow.

"Do we have to leave here? I could stay like this with you forever," you sighed, snuggling further into him.

Elijah chuckled and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “Non mon amour. Il y a tellement d’autres endroits dans le monde que je souhaite visiter avec vous.. (No, my love. There are so many more places in the world I wish to visit with you.)

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson smut #honeymoon #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson smut #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[my-writings-and-musings]

Oh, I have an idea for a Mermay! If you would like to write it: merformers Megatron being tangled in a net or something and the waves threw him on the beach and he can't go back to water. When the (gn) reader finds him he's scared that they will use his vulnerable moment to hurt him but they go like: "Wow! You're gorgeous! Oh! And you need my help!" And they help untangle him and roll him back to the sea. What do you think?

Absolutely! Mermay may have passed but I'll still be answering these asks because I'm slow, so don't worry if you left any but I haven't answered yet! Also feel free to leave more as it turns out I really like writing merbots!

Apologies for the low writing volume as of late, the hits just keep on coming, and with my area of the country taking wildfire smoke I swear thinking has never felt more difficult...

Megatron was certain he was done for.

He should have known his fate was sealed the moment the harpoon had pierced his side, especially with the weight of a powerful net dragging on his every move and tangling his limbs the more he struggled, but he'd dared to hope he had a chance after managing to swim away. It was only when exhaustion had allowed the waves to force him to shore, his colossal frame crashing against the rocks in a heap so tangled he was effectively immobilized, that he had accepted the inevitable. All the weary old mech could hope for now was to be finished off by the harpoon before he was discovered by those who'd wounded him.

Memories of a long, violent life played before his optics as the waters receded and the stars began to fade with the arrival of the day, the cries of seagulls growing louder as they woke to feed and curiously circled overhead. It wasn't the end he'd wanted, but it also didn't surprise him in the slightest. He'd never been able to find peace, as the scars across his frame could attest, so he could have predicted his spark extinguishing under such painful circumstances. Perhaps the Allspark would finally allow him to rest...

He was so exhausted he barely heard the soft patter of bare feet approaching over stone and sand. 

You had been hoping to find treasures from the sea along the rocky shore when you'd woken up well before the crack of dawn, but as you approached the massive unknown thing that had washed up overnight, you couldn't have prepared for what greeted the beam from your flashlight. Silver armor tangled within the heaviest netting you'd ever seen was all you could make out at first, but more careful observations revealed a fluke the size of a large tree trunk, atop which you found a massive metal torso with its limbs bound at the front. Your heart hammered as you approached despite your better judgment, some unspeakable instinct telling you that the being before you was in a great deal of pain. You realized you were beholding a real live Thalassicon the moment your light found his face and he opened a pair of brilliant red optics, their pale iris constricting then dilating as they focused on your eyes. Fear reflected between the both of you in equal measure.

When he returned to his prone position as if to surrender without a fight, you caught a wince of pain and a pink glow along his side, which brought your eyes and the flashlight beam to a massive harpoon jutting from behind his arm. Instinctive concern welled up within you, and the haggard breaths from his vents made you certain he was enduring a great deal of agony despite his calm appearance. No amount of common sense could compel you to leave anyone to so much suffering. Coming round to his head, you aimed the flashlight to the ground so as not to strain his optics. 

"Do you... need help?" you asked uncertainly, not sure how to better phrase the question. 

He looked back at you, making a sound like a strained scoff of disbelief. His voice rumbled like a heavy wave rolling over a rocky shore as he rested his helm against the stone. "Would it matter if I did?"

"I... think so? Because I can probably help you out a bit." you said, getting a bit more of a hold over yourself. It seemed likely that you could help him escape the net, but you were going to need him to work with you, and even if he'd given up you weren't about to just let him die. Loving the ocean extended to everything living within, and that included Thalassicons, as alien to the planet as they may have been. Reaching for the tiny toolkit you kept in your bag, you were surprised when the production of a small knife made the mech tense in alarm.

"Why are you here? Are more of you coming?" he asked with his full attention on the little blade. It wasn't enough to do more than cause him a minor bit of harm, but as he'd already endured plenty of that, he had no interest in letting blind trust cost him an optic. You seemed surprised and confused by the question, which ironically made him trust that you weren't planning any harm. Humans had never bothered to feign kindness for him anyway.

"There might be more people coming once the sun actually comes up, but I tend to be the only one up this early." you explained, trying to answer the question as best you could. The answer made him tilt his helm and raise a brow, compelling you to elaborate further. "Now's the best time to collect shells. The tide is going out, but no one else is up yet. Anyway, I just got this knife, let me see if it's sharp enough to cut you free."

"You're very trusting. Are you not afraid of my kind?" he asked before you could begin, giving you a bit of pause. The whole situation was odd, but you were quite perplexed as to why this very obviously struggling bot would try so hard to convince you not to help him. It only made you all the more determined to help, but it seemed you would need to convince him not only of your intentions, but to work with you to save himself. 

"I've never actually met a Thalassicon before, but you all don't seem to start fights with humans most of the time." you said as you put the flashlight down and aimed it over where you'd be working. Dropping to your knees but keeping a final foot of space between you both, you held up your tiny knife and gestured to his tangled limbs, certain you could work at least one free with enough cutting. "If I help you get your arms free, can you pull yourself out of this net?"

Still burnt out on hope, Megatron didn't dare to believe he was really getting out of this situation, but decided he had nothing better to do than play along. Even if you were some kind of government agent playing a long game, it was more interesting to see what your plan was than to wait to bleed to death. Flexing his arms to test the net's resistance, he found them folded against his front but otherwise unharmed, and while he was incapable of reaching the harpoon he had no doubt he could untangle himself if even one limb was freed. "Possibly." he conceded, remaining limp so that you could work.

"Worth a try, then." you said with a bit of inflated confidence, still unable to believe what you had gotten yourself into. Biting your lip and committing to your desire to help, you grabbed a random section of net and began to cut. Straight away you found progress to be definite but slow, the sharp blade taking its sweet time to carve through the reinforced material even as you pushed the sharpened edge down with all of your strength. "Ugh, this might take a second, these are some seriously thick ropes."

"Take all the time you need, I'm certainly not going anywhere." he replied with a sarcastic flop of his fluke against the stones, emphasizing his lack of options. You'd have possibly found it funny were you not carving through the stubborn netting with all of your strength, jaw set tight and brows furrowed in deep concentration as you looked for possible shortcuts. It wasn't like you had all the time in the world to cut him loose. The sun would soon be peeking over the horizon, and when it did you had no doubt that other humans would be coming to the beach, some of whom you couldn't trust not to sound the alarm. Many members of your species looked on his with open fear and boundless hostility.

"Hold on, if I'm able to tear this one... ouch!" you hissed as the knife nicked your palm, compelling on you to suck at the little cut before getting back to work. Your lack of hesitation to push on surprised him even more than your initial offer of aid, and for the first time he dared to believe you might be genuine in your desire to help. He could already feel his arm gaining wiggle room with every sliced rope, the heavy weight around his limbs needing only a little bit more of a reduction before he was confident his strength would prove sufficient to break free. Sweat had begun to bead on your forehead when you gave a growl of frustration and sliced through two more holes to free his arm. "Just one second, I've almost got it... there! Can you help me work your arm out?"

"Yes, one moment." he said, barely hiding the anticipation he couldn't suppress. Still mostly immobilized, he tried to work his arm free with a shift of his shoulders, only to receive a lightning bolt of pain as the harpoon was jostled by the movement. Roaring in agony, he went limp save for a full body shudder of pain, fresh energon flowing down his side. 

You jumped to help but pulled back when he hissed in instinctive fear, vents coming in hard and fast before the initial burst of pain began to fade and he calmed down. Looking around for potential witnesses with growing concern for the lack of time, you finally settled on the only thing you had resembling a plan, ignoring every bit of common sense you had saying it was a bad idea. "Would it help if that thing came out first?"

"It... it might. But I cannot reach it." he said weakly, once more feeling the urge to lie limp and allow fate to claim him. You'd proven an interesting diversion from his demise, but it was physically impossible for him to free himself. Between the restraint and the agony he felt when trying to move, there was nothing his great strength could do for him, and the steady flow of energon from his wound was taking even that away. Self repair couldn't initiate with the offending projectile still lodged under his armor.

"How deep is it? If it doesn't need too much of a pull, I can probably take it out." you offered, self preservation briefly taking a backseat to concern. It wasn't fair for anyone to suffer like this, and despite the danger you felt compelled to do whatever a squishy human body could to help. The Thalassicon stiffened at the suggestion, compelling you to drop to your knees and talk face to face to convince him you meant no harm. This wasn't something you could attempt without his full cooperation. "Do you trust me to do that?"

Megatron was silent as he eyed you up and down, looking for signs of the betrayal he'd been certain was coming but finding only earnest desperation in your face. It would be foolish to take you up on your offer considering his history with your kind, but with the harpoon scraping his insides during every ventilation, he was compelled once more to accept out of a lack of alternate options. All you could really do was help him, or end him that much quicker. 

"I cannot leave while it's there, I suppose I have little choice." he muttered bitterly, distrust coloring every word to make it apparent this wasn't a choice he enjoyed. It wasn't an enthusiastic assent, but you took it regardless, stepping back to try and figure out how to best approach the problem when the mech spoke up with far more force. A piercing look from his bright red optics made you flinch with each harsh syllable. "Just be quick about it, and know I will take you with me if you get any ideas."

"Okay. Fair enough. I'll climb on up, just hang tight." you conceded quickly, hands up in a brief gesture of surrender to show you understood. One thrash of his massive tail could easily turn you to paste, so you were equally serious in your promise not to try anything unexpected. Fully aware of his optics watching your every move, you climbed up his shoulder by using the net as a makeshift climbing aid and his armor as handholds, following the trail of bleeding energon until you arrived at his back.

When you stood up to face the harpoon for inspection, you were shocked to find it jutting out as far as you were tall, the heavy metal gleaming even in the darkness as if it was smelted from something unnatural. Ignoring the chill the weapon created in your gut, you angled your phone light to try and get a better idea of how to proceed. The sight of the ragged wound torn into his armor made you flinch in sympathy, and even without medical experience you could tell it had been yanked about as the mech had struggled against his attempted captors. The painful site left you stumped until you realized the roughness of the wound would actually work in your favor. Struggling hadn't just moved the harpoon, it had pulled it most of the way out, far enough that you were confident in your ability to pull it the rest of the way.

"I'll try to remove it as fast as I can, I'm sorry if this hurts." you said as you grabbed the frigid piece of metal, hoping you sounded confident just for his sake. All of him stiffened beneath you, but he made no further movements, remaining silent as you secured your grip and set your feet. 

"Okay. Here I go!" you announced as you sucked in a breath, clenching your shoulders before you pulled with all of your might. At first you felt nothing but his tremble of pain, which compelled you to square your jaw and lean backwards so your weight could assist, every ounce of your willpower pouring itself into the task at hand. After a few unproductive moments the harpoon slid an inch upwards, compelling you to double down until your knuckles paled and veins throbbed along your skin. The Thalassicon hissed when you felt something under the surface give way, and the weapon popped free of the wound in a single motion that sent you toppling backwards just as the mech arched his frame and roared in pain.

Soft sand met your back as you were thrown clear, the harpoon clattering over the stones as you sat up in a daze to find the mech tearing from the net and standing upright on his tail as he shredded the restraints with a growl and tossed the remains aside. The sudden show of motion was reassuring, but the sight of fresh energon running down his side made you fear you'd only made the situation much worse. "It's bleeding, did I make it worse?!"

Your words seemed to surprise him, almost as if he'd forgotten you were there in the rush, but he turned and gingerly probed the wound with much more freedom of movement than he'd had before. "No... It will clear itself and then my self repair will begin..." he explained, relaxing his mighty shoulders as the fact he'd be okay settled over you both. Now able to see the full extent of his size and strength, you felt even smaller as he dropped back down onto his front to speak to you, expression softening in relief and gratitude as he met your gaze. "Thank you. I would not have survived if that remained in my hide."

"Don't mention it." you replied breathlessly, surprising him once more as you made no attempt to request a reward for your services. Rather, you looked at him with concern, your eyes lingering on his injuries as you picked yourself up off the sand. "Are you... good to go? The beach will probably start to see its first visitors before long."

"I can see myself off. For your own sake, it is best you pretend we didn't meet." he answered quickly, pushing himself along the rocks until he came to the edge. For all of his desire to know more about the most peculiar human he'd ever met, it was better for both of you if he cleared out quickly. There was no telling what his attempted captors would do to those who aided him, and you didn't seem like the type to leave well enough alone even if your life was on the line. Knowing that didn't stop him from hesitating as he planned the best way to drop into the dark water below.

"Oh... okay." you said, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice. You'd come to the beach with the intention of finding some beautiful sea life, and while you'd succeeded, it was still hard to accept this one wouldn't be coming home with you. Unwilling to let him go straight away, you stalled with another glance at his injuries, hoping that even if you didn't see him again you would know he was safe out there. "Are you sure you're okay? That looks really bad."

"I have endured far worse, it will heal." he promised, already planning to seek out the deep sea supplies he knew would help him heal. Compared to what he'd suffered before at the hands of humans and bots alike, this was nothing now that he had the freedom to move and swim. The news made you smile, and his spark was so softened by your continued compassion he couldn't bear to leave without some show of gratitude. "Before I leave, allow me to introduce myself. You can call me Megatron."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N." you replied eagerly, wishing the first tendrils of the sunrise shining over the ocean would give you just a few more minutes. Unable to think of all you wanted to say, you ignored the hurt in your heart to bid him farewell, putting your wishes into words so they might come true. "I hope I can see you again sometime, under better circumstances."

"Perhaps, if fate allows. It would not be in your best interest, however." he replied much more sagely, swinging his tail over the edge but holding on with his upper arms. In the moments before he descended further, the position allowed the two of you to come face to face once more, and it was his turn to smile fondly as you bid him farewell.

"I don't really mind. Safe travels, Megatron."

#transformers #maccadam #megatron #tf #tf imagines #human reader #self insert #megatron x reader #mermay #merformers #merformers x reader #transformers x reader #x reader #injury #earthspark #idw #mtmte #tfa #tfp

[whitedarkmoonflower]

hello

Can I request a sihtric x reader fic where she doesn’t know how to braid, so sihtric teaches her. and when she’s good enough he lets her braid his hair for battle saying it would bring him luck(?)

this is the main idea but you can change & do whatever you like with it! Thank you!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I think I have never written a fic so quickly as this one. It just touched a string within me. Thank you so much for this absolutely lovely request! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Warnings: fluff, tons of fluff and such a tiny bit of angst, that it doesn't really count 

Word Count: 4,5K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

The first light of dawn painted the horizon in  delicate hues of pink and orange,  casting a soft reflection on the tranquil river below. The water flowed very calm in this part of the river, the gentle lapping of the current seamlessly melding with the melodies of the first birds, praising the awakening of a new day. 

As Sihtric walked, he felt a sense of peace enveloping him. The riverside always had this calming effect, a place where he could gather his thoughts before the day's chaos ensued. Especially now, with Coocham buzzing with warriors gearing up for battle. 

Soon, he reached a secluded bend in the river, framed by tall reeds from the side of the river, while nearby a sprawling willow provided shade, shielding this corner from both the sun's gaze and curious onlookers. The air here was cooler, tinged with the refreshing scent of wet soil and the distant fragrance of blooming wildflowers.

Rounding the bend, Sihtric halted, an unexpected sight meeting his eyes – amidst the curtain of reeds and morning's embrace, you were dressing after what appeared to be a refreshing river bath. Droplets of water still clung to your naked arms, glistening in the faint sunlight. You reached for your leather jerkin, slipping it over your undergarment and breeches, then tugged on your boots and fastened your sword. Your damp hair, darker than its usual shade, clung to your neck, small streamlets running down your back.

Even from where he stood, Sihtric could see the focus in your stance, reminding him instantly of how you looked in the heat of training. He smirked remembering the unexpected twist his first sparring session with you had taken.

It had been a mystery to him why Uhtred had taken you in as a warrior. A woman – a small and delicate creature, looking like you would break into two from wielding that long and heavy blade of yours. The way you danced around the hay dolls in the sparring grounds, as if playing some intricate game, made Sihtric just wrinkle his nose and rolle his eyes, even as Finan approvingly chuckled with his tongue, hinting at a different perspective.

Until that one day.

—-----------------------------------------------

It was a late afternoon and the training grounds resonated with the rhythmic clang of metal clashing and the shuffling of feet on dry ground. Sihtric, along with Finan and Osfert, stood slightly off, their gazes fixed once again on you as you flowed through a series of maneuvers with your blade.

"She's got a knack for this," Finan observed, admiration evident in his voice. "See her footwork? Swift and sharp."

Osferth nodded, adding, "She's trained well. That much is clear."

"Since when have you turned into an expert in sword skill?” Sihtric scoffed, “Besides training and actual battle are worlds apart. Dancing around here is one thing, but facing seasoned warriors? Doubt she'd last a minute."

Finan shot him a sidelong glance. "Don't be so quick to dismiss, Sihtric. She might surprise you."

"She might be good," Sihtric conceded, his tone laced with sarcasm, "for training sessions with stray dolls. They don’t fight back. Let's be real; when swords clash in earnest, it's a different game."

Osferth countered, "You're not giving her enough credit. It's evident she has the heart of a warrior."

Sihtric's lips curled into a smirk, "Heart won't stand a chance against seasoned Dane fighters."

Finan, growing frustrated, retorted, "Like you, you mean? There's something else that bothers you about her, and it's not her skills. Spit it out."

“In the shield wall, every man counts. I want my flanks secured by real warriors, not this dancing doll.” Sihtric sneered with disdain.

Sihtric turned to look at you just to realise that you had approached the trio, having caught the tail end of their conversation. Blade resting on your shoulder, you met Sihtric's gaze squarely. "Shall we see? Care for a spar, Sihtric?"

The challenge hung in the air, and the attention of everybody on the grounds was suddenly focused on both of you.

"Perhaps we should use sticks, not steel. Wouldn't want to mar that pretty face of yours," Sihtric jested. 

Your retort was swift, "Scared I might leave a mark?" With a confident stride, you took your stance, eyes locked onto Sihtric, awaiting his move. 

Amid the expectant gazes of his friends and other warriors now coming closer, Sihtric drew his blade and slowly stepped into the training ground, every muscle radiating the confidence of years of experience and countless battles.

Without hesitation, Sihtric made the first move, lunging forward with a powerful strike, expecting to overwhelm you and end the bout swiftly. To his astonishment, he was met with empty air as you sidestepped evading him gracefully. His initial smugness was replaced with a furrowed brow.

The dance continued, with Sihtric trying to leverage his strength, but you remained elusive. Like a leaf caught in a whirl of wind, you ducked, swirled, and danced around him, evading each of his strikes. Each of your movements, precise and fluid, confounded him, taunting him with feints, luring him in with the promise of an opening in your defences, only to change direction at the last moment, leaving him off-balance. Each time, the crowd's gasps and murmurs grew louder, Sihtric's frustration evidently increased.

The defining moment came when you feigned a low strike, prompting Sihtric to lower his defence. In a split second, you changed your trajectory, using his momentum against him. He stumbled, caught off guard, and with a deft move, you closed in, swirling around, striking his blade hand and burying your shoulder in his stomach. Sihtric could only gasp watching his blade flying out of his grasp, himself landing roughly on the dusty ground.

A wave of cheers washed over the grounds. Standing tall, you extended a hand to a visibly dazed Sihtric, sitting in the dirt. 

Finan's smirk was hard to miss as he chuckled, "Told you so. You just wouldn't listen." 

The next morning as you arrived at the training grounds, Sihtric was already there, engrossed in sharpening his sword. Every stroke showed his focus, so much so that he didn't seem to notice you approaching. You hesitated for a moment before turning away to begin your own regimen, keenly aware of Sihtric's discreet glances in your direction as you practiced.

Finan approached, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Waiting for someone, Sihtric?"

Sihtric shot him an annoyed look. "Just making sure my blade is sharp."

Osferth, joining them, chuckled. "He's been 'making sure' that for the past hour, you can use that blade for shaving!"

Sihtric sighed, "Alright, alright. I was thinking of...you know...asking her to spar. But..."

"But you're too chicken to ask?" Finan teased.

"It's not that. It's just... What if she feels I'm challenging her?  Or worse, trying to show off?" Sihtric shifted uneasily.

"Why don't you just be direct?" Osferth suggested. "Ask her if she'd like to train with you. Simple."

Before Sihtric could reply, you approached, having noticed the trio's discussion. "Something interesting you're talking about?"

Finan, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked, "Sihtric here was just about to ask you something."

Sihtric shot Finan a glare but took a deep breath, "I was...uh...wondering if you'd be interested in...you know, sparring with me? No challenges, just...training."

You looked at him, a playful smile forming on your lips, "Took you long enough to ask. Let's see what you've got."

And so it began. Soon your sparring sessions became a regularity, a steady part of each day. 

Despite Sihtric's prowess and experience, he found himself continuously challenged by your fluidity and swiftness. Every parry, every counter-attack showcased your undeniable skill and he dug deep into his experience and strength to avoid repeating his previous mistake. 

And while the warrior in him thrived in the challenge, the man in him was captivated by you in a way he had not expected.

The effortless elegance of your movements, the way your hair swayed synchronously with your strikes, glinting in the sunlight, were hypnotic. Your lean body, a perfect fusion of strength and grace, resembled an alerted wild creature, ever vigilant and prepared.  

The way your cheeks turned rosy from exertion, the never fading spark in your eyes, full of determination, yet always bright with mischief and joy, your contagious laughter – all this and a thousand other small subtle things captured Sihtric's heart and endeared you to him.

Your wit, as sharp as your blade, was an allure in its own right. The fire with which you defended your views and opinions only deepened Sihtric's respect for you. And the way you never missed a chance to playfully tease those around you placed you at the same level as Finan. In between rounds, even out of breath and exhausted, you would always find a strength to throw a joke, your laughter infectious, lighting up the surroundings. Sihtric often found himself anticipating these moments more than the actual sparring.

Sihtric clearly recalled that one day, after a particularly intense round with both of you breathless and drenched in sweat, his eyes had scanned your form, an unfamiliar sensation washing over him. Unbeknownst to him, he had found himself admiring you – undeniably a skilled and formidable warrior, but also a woman, such a beautiful woman, radiating passion, intelligence, and resilience. In that instant, a warmth spread through his chest, an undeniable pull that made his heartbeat quicken.

—--------------------------------------------------

Lost in his memories, Sihtric failed to see a stray branch on the ground. It snapped sharply under Sihtric’s foot, its sound carrying in the stillness of dawn. Startled, your eyes met his visibly sheepish expression. 

There was a lingering pause, stretching a bit too long. With a mischievous smirk, you finally broke it. "Do the riverside reeds make for good hiding spots, Sihtric? Or are you merely lost?"

Taken aback, Sihtric stumbled over his words. "I... I didn't mean to intrude. I was just—"

"Sightseeing?" you teased, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. "Honestly, I didn't expect anyone to be here. My apologies."

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to see the usually composed Dane flustered. "Next time, maybe announce your presence with a song or dance. At least then I can join in the fun."

He laughed, the tension easing a bit. "Noted. I'll work on my riverside entrance."

You flashed him a grin. "See to it. And perhaps, I'll give you a show worth watching."

The mortified look, appearing on Sihtric’s face, made you laugh. 

“Since you’re here, maybe you can help?” you asked, showing him a small blade in your hand. 

Sihtric’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Help you? How?” 

"These," you tug at your locks, "get in the way and that can be an unnecessary distraction during a battle. It might look less disastrous if you’d help cut them."

Sihtric looked surprised, “It’s just hair. Why not simply braid them?"

Your eyes darted away, "Never learned that skill. Gisela, Hild, and others always do it for me. But they won't be accompanying us. I'm left with few options."

Sihtric chuckled. "So, the master of swords is defeated by braiding?"

You shrugged with your shoulders. "We all have our weaknesses."

Sihtric's gaze lingered on you, his heart's tempo subtly quickening. "Well, lucky for you, I've been braiding my hair for years. If you'd trust me, I could assist."

Amusement glinted in your eyes. "Sihtric, the fierce warrior, a hairdresser? That's an unexpected turn."

Feigning affront, he winked, "Hey, a man can have many talents!"

Nodding, you handed him a comb. "Then, let's give it a whirl."

"Come," Sihtric gestured, spreading his cloak by a willow's expansive root. 

How attentive, you mused, not with surprise, but merely acknowledging what you already knew. That’s how he was. Beneath the rough and reserved exterior of the stern warrior you had long discovered the tender inner core of an exceptionally warmhearted man – always loyal, ever attentive and a deeply caring friend. 

With an amused smile on your face you settled down onto the cloak, with Sihtric positioning himself behind you, his legs framing you supportively. The touch of his fingers, as he began combing and later skillfully weaving your hair, sent a frisson down your spine. And you let yourself drift away in memories as you listened to him humming a soft tune.

—-------------------------------------------------

You loved the sparring sessions with Sihtric, which became routine soon after your first encounter. Every time you squared off against him on the training ground, a thrill surged through you. It wasn't just the sparring, but the challenge he presented. He was a formidable opponent, hardened in countless battles. Every stance, every move, every counter spoke of his experience.

Your initial easy victory against him was a sweet memory, but the more you trained with him, the more you realised that it had been quite a stroke of luck. Sihtric had underestimated you, causing him to be less vigilant and overly hasty. Now, with every session, it became clearer that keeping up with him demanded all of your skill and focus.

Sihtric's unique combat rhythm was unpredictable. His strength was palpable, not just in his powerful strikes but also in his unwavering stance, making it challenging to catch him off guard as you had during your initial spar. Every session was a blend of instruction, challenge, and exhilaration, all of which you embraced wholeheartedly.

One particular day remained etched in your memory. After an intense bout, with both of you drenched in sweat and panting for breath, you leaned against a tree to recover. Your gaze naturally drifted to Sihtric. He was bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving, catching his breath, every muscle defined beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. While you had always respected his martial prowess, that day, an unfamiliar warmth spread within you, accompanied by a flutter you couldn't identify.

You watched as he straightened up, brushing off the dirt and sweat. A stray strand of hair fell onto his forehead. An unexpected urge overcame you—to reach out and tuck it away, brushing your fingers against his skin. You were taken aback by this newfound sentiment. What was that? 

Your heart raced, not only from the exhaustion of the spar, but from this unexpected surge of emotion. Memories flooded your mind — flashbacks of your shared laughs, the lingering, hidden glances, the melodic timbre of his soft voice as he shared stories by the fireplace. 

You shook your head, trying to dispel these thoughts. It was just the exhaustion playing tricks on your mind. And yet, you couldn’t resist stealing another glance, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile as his eyes locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you both wrapped up, the typical teasing that was so common between you both   seemed charged with a new energy. Was it just you, or did he feel it too? Something deep within you had shifted giving way to emotions unknown and unintelligible for you, something you weren't quite ready to admit, even to yourself.

—--------------------------------------------------

Now, as you sat nestled between his legs, Sihtric almost regretted his impulsive offer to braid your hair. Had he overstepped? Yet, the allure of the moment was undeniable and too compelling to resist.

His fingers gently caressed your hair, the silky locks gliding seamlessly through his grasp. Every touch sent an electrifying jolt through his entire body, the strange feeling both excited and unnerved him. This closeness was a strong contrast to your sparring sessions—no blades, no shields, just the two of you, closer than a hand's reach. 

His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Every sweep of his fingers, every touch of your hair sent a thrill coursing through him, stirring emotions and making his fingers tremble slightly.

The world around slowly faded. Every twist, every intertwining strand tightened an unexplainable knot in his stomach, every occasional brush of his hands against your neck made him yearn for more. The warmth of your back against his torso, the subtle scent that lingered, the softness of your hair—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

He leaned in slightly, his breath uneven, lips mere inches from your head. Every second stretched, deepening his yearning.

The braid was almost complete, but Sihtric took his time, savouring the moment, cherishing each touch. He was in love, deeply so, and while he was not yet ready to speak it out loudly, the intimacy of this moment seemingly spoke volumes.

“You are ready, fair warrior,” he finally whispered, his voice bringing you back from your reverie. 

Your fingers gently touched your head, where your ever dishevelled locks had been transformed into three neat strands, overflowing into one braid trailing down your back. Springing up, you dashed to the water to glimpse your reflection.

"Guess I won't need this blade for a haircut after all," you mused clearly impressed, sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Sihtric's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and mischief. "I did say I had a knack for it."

You chuckled, "Thanks, Sihtric. I’m in your debt."

He shrugged, his casual demeanour back in place. "Just promise to show me a new sword move or something. That would square us, right?"

You grinned, "I've got a better idea. Teach me to braid, and someday, I might offer the same service to you."

"My lady, braiding isn't as straightforward as swordplay. It's an art form. If you wish to have the privilege of braiding my locks, you've got a lot to learn,” Sihtric smirked in response.

And so, the remaining week before departure a new dimension was added to your training sessions – Sihtric became your braiding instructor. You profoundly wondered how he had managed to persuade almost all the small girls in the whole village to sit patiently as his fingers, interlaced with yours, guided you through the intricate process, showing you the weaves and twists, demonstrating how to put pearls and beans in the hair and fasten the braids. 

You were amazed by the delicacy and deftness of his rugged hands, contrasting sharply with your own efforts that often left stray hairs or twisted sections that unravelled the entire braid. And one day, the mystery surrounding the patience of the small villagers was unravelled when you saw Sihtric remove one of his silver rings, handing it to one of the girls. A smile played on your lips at the sight as you realised he was actually paying in silver to have you taught to braid. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

You sat beside a crackling fireplace, the camp sprawling amidst the trees with tents everywhere around you. An unmistakable tension permeated the air, as it always did on the eve of battle. Some warriors sought solace in ale, others meticulously sharpened their already perfect blades, while some gathered around the fires, sharing stories and seeking comfort in the company, driven sleepless by anticipation. There was no one else at your fire, sitting alone on a fallen log, you hugged your knees, immersed in thoughts, when a warm hand settled on your shoulder.

“Ever fought in a battle before?” Sihtric asked, taking a seat beside you, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Don’t take me wrong. I know how good you are with the blade. But fighting one to one is different.”

“I know, you’re right and yes, I have. And I will not pretend that it doesn’t scare me. Only a fool would pretend to not fear the chaos of the battle,” you looked up to meet Sihtric’s gaze. “But don’t mistake my fear for weakness. Don’t  think I will waver just because I’m a woman. I proved you wrong once and I’ll do it again, if needed.”

“You’ve nothing to prove to me. I just… I…” Sihtric struggled to find the right words. He wanted to ask you to stay by his side, so that he could protect you, shield you from harm, but he couldn’t find the right words to express that without insulting you. He understood that especially now after you had voiced your suspicion that he still didn’t trust you enough, there was no way of saying what he had intended to. You were a warrior, and he had learned his lesson not to doubt it, he respected that. And yet you were a woman. A woman he loved and cherished so deeply that the mere thought of harm befalling you was agonising and driving him to the brink of madness.

You looked expectantly at Sihtric, waiting for him to finish his saying.

"Could you... braid my hair for the battle tomorrow?" he finally blurted out, his cheeks warm, silently grateful that the fire's shadows hid his flush.

The surprise in your voice was evident. "You'd entrust me with that?"

Sihtric didn’t answer, his eyes full of strange anxiety didn’t leave yours and you swallowed back the joke that was already almost rolling over your lips. 

His eyes, swirling with a mix of vulnerability and intensity, never left yours. He hesitated, before answering, "Among the Danes, there's an old belief. Having your hair braided by someone you truly trust… brings good luck in battle."

The meaning of the words slowly sank into your mind, making a genuine smile appear on your lips. "Trust me, this will be my finest braid," you replied, gesturing for him to sit down in front of you. 

Sihtric slid down from the branch and settled between your legs. You reached out to touch his hair – dark, thick and curly and so pleasantly soft against your fingers, the sensation of the touch so unexpectedly stirring.

You began separating the strands, your fingers working with utmost care and concentration, as you started to pull and twist, enjoying the electrifying feeling of Sihtric’s hair brushing against your fingers. Each strand you took, twisted and wove into the pattern of your choice reminded you of the time you both spent together the last few days. His strong arms wielding the blade like a toy, his face covered with sweat, his concentrated gaze and furrowed eyebrows, as he looked for a weak point in your defences, his genuine laugh at your jokes, his fingers intertwined with yours, teaching you to braid. 

Sihtric shuffled between your legs and you felt a warm flush rising to your cheeks as he leaned back nestling more comfortably between your thighs. 

Your eyes, usually so sharp and observant, softened as they concentrated on the task and you unconsciously bit your lower lip. First small braids on the sides, then some more a bit higher and then the middle one – twist after twist the braids started to take shape, as you meticulously weaved each strand, ensuring not a single one was overlooked or twisted wrongly. 

You tied off the ends and marvelled at your own work, not wanting to let go, to allow this magical moment to end, your fingers remained lingering, tangled in the free curls on the back, and you brushed them gently against the nape of his neck. The touch was fleeting, almost too tender to be noticed, as your fingers slid over his skin for the briefest moment in an unconscious attempt to communicate feelings you were not yet ready to express in words.

Drawing back, pride filled your gaze, your hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders. "There," you whispered. “You’re ready for the battle.”

You felt Sihtric shudder under your touch, his arms lifting to clasp your hands, pulling them gently to his face and placing a soft kiss on your right palm. 

"Thank you," his voice was husky with emotion, though he didn't turn around to face you. You felt like there was something in the air, something electrical, something unspeakable and indescribable, and you wondered whether it was the looming battle or the accumulation of the suppressed feelings and emotions or maybe both. 

Sihtric slowly touched his braids, a hint of smile playing on his lips. He had finally found the right words. 

“Promise me something,” he murmured, finally turning to face you. “Promise to stay by my side tomorrow. I need to know my left is guarded by such a skilled and formidable warrior as you.” 

You looked in his mismatched eyes, feeling a warmth enveloping you. 

“I promise,” you whispered, lowering yourself down next to Sihtric and almost melting at the feeling of Sihtric’s strong arm enveloping your shoulders, pulling you closer and wrapping his warm fur coat around you both. You leaned against him, the warmth of the fur, combined with Sihtric's steady heartbeat, making the world outside seem to blur. There were no words needed as he held you in his unwavering embrace, the silence between you both and the profound comfort of simply being speaking volumes on their own.

As the night wore on and the camp around you finally slowly drifted into sleep, you both remained wrapped in the coat, holding onto each other and the softness of the moment. His arm, strong and secure, held you close, while your head rested on his shoulder. It was a solace, a reprieve from the world outside, and a reminder of what is worth fighting for, the embrace becoming a silent promise—to stand by each other, come what may.

—----------------------------------------

The battle was over. Sihtric rose to his feet pulling his axe from the dead body, his eyes  searching his surroundings for another enemy to release his anger over, but none remained. The ground, once firm and unyielding, was now a morass of muddied, trampled grass, blood, and the footprints of countless boots and hooves. 

Abandoned weapons littered the field, gleaming dully. Swords, spears, and shields lay strewn around, some half-buried in the earth, others still clutched by lifeless hands. Bodies of the fallen were strewn across the landscape, and vultures were already circling overhead. Small groups of men searched the field for survivors. 

Sihtric looked around and a pang of dread constricted his heart. He still remembered you beside him when the enemy's shield wall shattered. He remembered the fierce look in your eyes, the way you leaped at some random man swinging his axe at you. You had looked like a goddess of war, stabbing, chopping, parring, dancing around your enemies with an ease only you were capable of. But then Sihtric had lost you out of his sight. He had turned to face a big, red faced Dane swinging his impressive war axe at him and when he turned back, his hands smeared with blood pouring out of the Dane’s neck, you were gone.

The air was thick with a mixture of smoke, blood and filth, as Sihtric roamed the battlefield, shouting your name, his face pale and eyes darkening in despair with each moment there was no answer, his breathing growing laboured and hope waning. In the very moment when despair threatened to consume him entirely, he finally spotted you, sitting on a fallen tree at the rand of the battlefield. You sat there with your face, hands and your whole armour smeared with blood, breathing hard, your sword driven into the ground and serving as a support for your arms. 

Rushing to your side, Sihtric knelt before you, his hands framing your face. "Are you hurt? Is that your blood?" he asked, his eyes wide, anxiety plainly written on his face.

“I’m fine. Just a few scratches. Nothing that won’t heal by the next new moon.” 

“Don't ever do that again.” Sihtric murmured, his voice just a hush, pressing his forehead against yours. “For a short moment I thought I’d lost you. Believe me, I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

Your fingers slowly touched Sihtric’s face, tracing the lines and scars on his face, your eyes locked. Sihtric’s thumbs gently caressed your cheeks as he slowly, deliberately began to lean in. The space between you both diminished, charged with an electrifying tension, as you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

His fingers brushed your neck, and as you closed your eyes, you felt the tender, hesitant pressure of his lips meeting yours.

“I love you, my fierce warrior,” Sihtric whispered against your lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“And I love you too,” you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible, melting against the gentle touch of his lips against yours. 

It wasn't a fiery, passionate kiss. It was a gentle, lingering one, full of unspoken words and emotions, a culmination of all the shared glances, soft touches and unspoken feelings that had built up between you. It was a deliberate melding, like two flames coming together to form one and every nuance of the kiss spoke volumes—the delicate way Sihtric’s fingers cradled your jaw, the soft brush of his thumb across your cheek, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. 

“Hey, your braids are still intact. I did well, didn’t I” you laughed as you both pulled back, gasping for air.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fanfic #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #tlk #arnas fedaravicius #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #arnas fedaravičius

[goldenempyrean]

Natasha Romanoff Does Not Get Sick

〚 Notes - I started writing this a while ago but honestly I lost motivation and I just ended up finishing it last night instead of sleeping :p enjoy :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Natasha Romanoff does not get sick. It’s as simple as that. She’s the Black Widow something like this wasn’t meant to effect her - only it did. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 3100 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Natasha Romanoff does not get sick. It’s as simple as that. Never once in the 5 years you’d been married had you seen her sick and never once in the 3 years prior to that too. Sure, she’d get the occasional headache or stomach cramps but those were mainly due to her inability to rest and take breaks when training.   

The file for her sick days at SHIELD was completely blank - just an empty folder sitting on a shelf. Hell, her only days off were the times she’d been so injured that it almost unable to walk but even she’d still insisted on coming in, it was only after you’d firmly put your foot down that she’d agreed to stay home. 

It didn’t matter how many countless germs she had been exposed too; she simply just did not pick anything up. No cases of the sniffles, no upset tummies. Not even the occasional sore throat. So, you could only imagine her confusion when she woke up that Monday morning and with an uncomfortably dry feeling settling at the back of her throat. Strange. 

She blinked groggily, her eyes adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. She shifted in bed, feeling an unusual heaviness in her limbs. As she sat up, the dryness in her throat intensified, causing her to cough lightly. It was a foreign sensation; but one she just couldn't quite ignore. 

Beside her, you were still snoozing away, your messy bedhead sprawling onto the pillow beneath you as you slept. Cute. Natasha smiled a little as she moved some off the hair from your eyes and pressed a soft delicate kiss to the top of your head. Her pretty darling. 

Glancing over to her phone, the screen lit up revealing the time. It was almost 6:45. Alright, just enough time to shower and train, she thought to herself before tucking you up in her side of the blanket as she got out of the bed. 

Oddly, the room felt colder than normal. The soft carpet beneath her feet felt different, like it was harder than usual. It made her joints feel funny as she wandered into the bathroom. 

Natasha turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her body, hoping it would ease the strange sensations she was experiencing. As the steam enveloped the bathroom, she stood there for a moment, allowing herself to relax under the soothing flow. 

But as the water hit her skin, she realised something was wrong. The warm droplets which usually brought her much comfort now felt akin to icy pin pricks against her sensitive flesh. The widow shivered involuntarily, feeling a chill that seemed to seep deep into her bones as the small droplets continued to bash against her skin. 

Not only that but her arms felt heavy? If that was even possible. As she lifted her arms to reach up for the soap, she could feel them straining and aching. Similar too how they felt after many hours of lifting and training. Whatever, it didn’t matter now. Nat finished up her shower, she shivered again as she turned off the water and stepped out the tiled floor despite the warm steam still lingering around the room. 

Wrapping herself in a towel, Natasha stood in front of the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. She noticed the pallor of her skin, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant complexion. Her lips were slightly chapped, and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. She reached out to touch her reflection, almost expecting it to be an illusion, but the cold sensation against her fingertips confirmed that this was real. 

Her body felt sluggish, her movements slower than usual. Even the simple act of drying herself off seemed to require more effort. Once finished, Nat let out a soft sigh as she tried to brush off the strange sensations and feelings. 

As she quietly crept back into the bedroom, she could see that you’d gone from being in a cuddle huddle on the bed to sprawling across the whole thing, looking rather like a starfish. Nat found herself giving a small chuckle at this but quickly winced afterwards, bringing up her hand to rub at the outside of her throat. The feeling wasn’t just uncomfortable, this time it hurt.  

It seemed to disappear though just as quickly as it came and Natasha let herself forget about it as she surveyed her wardrobe looking for something to wear. Eventually she settled on a pair of gym leggings and one of her designated work-out tee’s. 

Quietly, she made her way out of the room and carefully closed the door behind her, trying not to disturb you as you slept. And she made her way down towards the communal kitchen to get her daily cup of coffee and to make her usual pre-work-out shake. 

The kitchen was empty, to no-one's surprise. She was usually the only person up and active at this time of day, well, other than Tony who was usually tinkering with some form of gadgets in his lab.  

Nat grabbed her cup and began making her shake as she waked for her coffee but the usual hum of the coffee machine and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, didn't bring the same comfort they usually did. The scent seemed muted, the taste lacking its usual richness and depth. In fact, in all honesty, she could barely smell it at all. 

As Natasha leant over the countertop, sipping her coffee, she couldn't help but notice how everything felt... off. The normally comforting warmth of the mug against her hands felt distant and cold. The drink tasted bitter and bland, failing to provide its usual energy boost. She pushed the mug away; the appeal of the drink being lost all together. 

It was then that the Widow felt a sudden tickle in her nose, followed by an intense urge to sneeze. She scrunched up her face, trying to suppress the impending sneeze, but it was futile. A forceful sneeze erupted from her, catching her by surprise. It was followed by another, and then another… and the another. 

“God, what is wrong with me today.” Nat mumbled to herself as she reached across the counter to tear roll a piece of kitchen roll, intending to blow her nose to get rid of whatever had tickled her so much. Much to her annoyance though, the action didn’t provide much relief and instead only served to make the edges of her poor nose feel like they had just been scrubbed with rough sandpaper. Ugh. 

Whatever it wasn’t like she could fix it, maybe she just needed to sweat it out for a bit. Work up her heart rate and clear her head. So, she abandoned the kitchen and set out for the gym. 

However, with every step she took, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. Her normally agile and graceful movements felt sluggish and heavy. It was as if her body was protesting against the physical exertion, she was subjecting it to. 

She reached the gym and glanced around at the familiar equipment and training area. The sight that usually filled her with motivation and excitement now seemed daunting. She sighed heavily and decided to start with some light stretching to warm up her aching muscles. But as she reached down to touch her toes, a wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to stumble and catch herself on the nearest exercise machine. 

“Shit.” She paused to gather herself, she swallowed and was unable to ignore the scraping feeling that had followed immediately after. Nat coughed thickly; the raspy sound muffled slightly by the back of her wrist as leaned against the exercise machine for support. 

She should’ve stopped there but in her true, stubborn fashion, Nat forced herself to push through the discomfort and continued with her training routine, determined not to let whatever this was slow her down. She started with some light cardio, stepping onto the treadmill and setting a moderate pace. But with every stride, her legs felt heavier - like somebody had attached a heaving weight to her ankles - and her rasping breaths grew shallower and shallower until it felt like she could no 

longer breath at all. 

Thick beads of sweat formed on her forehead and Natasha could feel her body temperature rising. But this was different, it was not the subtle heat coming from over worked muscles, this was something else. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, only to realise her palm was clammy and hot against her own skin. 

But she refused to give in. An irresponsible move at the time but it was the only thought she thought to do. She increased the intensity of her workout, thinking that pushing harder would somehow make her feel better - oh, how wrong she would turn out to be. Nat dragged herself from the treadmill and over to the weightlifting area, grabbing dumbbells that felt immensely heavier than usual. The strain on her arms felt horrible but still, she continued to ignore it. 

As she attempted a bicep curl, her trembling arm faltered, and the weight slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. Natasha's heart sank as frustration mixed with exhaustion. She had never felt so weak, so vulnerable. Tears welled up in her eyes, a combination of physical pain and emotional frustration. 

Just as she was about to push herself for one more rep, a wave of nausea crashed over her as she began coughing uncontrollably. Reality finally hit her when black spots crowded her vision. The light above seemed to flicker rapidly, twisting and convulsing in sharp rays as the room span around her. She couldn't ignore the fact that something was seriously wrong with her now. She’d had pushed herself way past the breaking point, and her body had finally rebelled. 

Her tired body convulsed with a sudden sneeze, her entire frame jolting forward. The force of it surprised her, causing her to stumble and clutch onto the weight rack for support. Her nose tickled with an intense sensation, and before she could even react, another sneeze erupted from deep within her. 

It was a violent, explosive sneeze that wracked her body, sending sharp jolts of pain through her chest and abdomen. The sneezes came in quick succession, each one more powerful than the last, leaving Natasha feeling drained and dizzy. She brought her hand to her nose, which was now red and raw from the constant rubbing and wiping. 

“Oh fuck…” Now Nat knew this was sickness - she wasn’t an idiot. She’s seen girls from the red-room get ill and be dragged off to God know’s where only to return as empty, broken shells. That’s if they ever returned at all. But how could this be. She was the Black Widow. A merciless killer. Natasha Romanoff does not get sick. 

Yet here she was. 

Finally giving in, Nat mustered all her strength to stand up, intending to leave the gym and find solace in the comfort of her own bed. But as she took a step forward, her legs wobbled beneath her, unable to support her weight. With a sigh of resignation, she lowered herself back down, sprawling on the cool floor. 

Lying there, the cold, lonely tiles provided some relief to her feverish body. The gym around her faded into the background as she closed her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control over her deteriorating condition. The room continued to spin and warp around her, and she felt the sweat-soaked fabric of her workout clothes cling uncomfortably to her blazing skin. 

Her feverish mind raced with thoughts of the consequences of her reckless behaviour. She had pushed herself too hard, ignoring the signs of fatigue and pain until her body had reached its breaking point. The Black Widow had always prided herself on her physical prowess and resilience, but now she found herself helpless and vulnerable. 

Each breath she took felt like a struggle, her chest constricting with each inhalation. Coughs continued to wrack her body, the violent spasms sending jolts of pain through her weakened frame. The sound of her coughs echoed in the empty gym, a harsh reminder of her own mortality. 

A sense of frustration and anger surged within Natasha. She was used to being in control, to relying on her strength and skill to overcome any obstacle. But now, she was at the mercy of a relentless illness that she couldn't simply fight or defeat. It was a humbling experience, one that forced her to confront her own limitations.  

All she wanted was you. She craved your comforting touch; the soft alluring sound of your voice was all she’s need. But it felt as if you were so far away, a place she’d never be able to reach, not here from the tiled floor anyway. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a moment to regather herself. Then she’d pull herself up and come back and fall into your loving hold. That was the plan. 

But as Natasha's eyes fluttered shut, her body succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion that had been building within her. Sleep enveloped her like a heavy blanket, pulling her deeper into its embrace. The gym and its surroundings faded away, replaced by a dreamscape where she could find solace and healing. 

In her dreams, Natasha found herself in a serene garden, surrounded by vibrant flowers and the soothing sounds of a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and pain that had consumed her waking hours. She felt a sense of peace and tranquillity wash over her, easing the tension in her body and mind. 

As she wandered through the garden, she came across a small pond shimmering with crystal-clear water. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she knelt down beside it, dipping her fingers into the cool liquid. The sensation brought a momentary relief from her fevered state, soothing the heat radiating from her skin. 

In her dream, time seemed to stand still, allowing her to bask in this tranquil oasis. She closed her eyes and focused on the rhythmic sound of her own breath, allowing it to guide her into a state of deep relaxation. The weight of her illness seemed to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and strength. 

In this dream state, Natasha felt a familiar presence drawing near. She turned her head, her heart skipping a beat as she saw you standing there, your eyes filled with concern and love. You reached out a hand, and without hesitation, she reached for it, intertwining her fingers with yours as hoards of blood red butterflies suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere and everywhere, the crashing sound of their rapidly fluttering winds was almost overpowering as she clutched your hand desperately

But then something else came, the butterflies thunderous flapped quietened down and the touch of your hand had sent a wave of warmth surging through Natasha's body, as if your very presence had the power to heal her. She leaned into you, seeking the comfort and support she had longed for. Your voice, soft and soothing, whispered words of reassurance and love into her ear. 

It wasn’t until she stirred, feeling a deep cooling sensation dabbing over her face that she realised you weren’t in her dream talking to her. You were sat over her, an anxious expression of worry plastered across your face as you pressed a wet washcloth to her face. 

“Y/N?” She croaked out, her voice barely louder than a whisper. It took Nat a few moments to register that she was no longer laying on the cool floor of the gym but the soft welcoming embrace of her mattress. 

Nat’s brows furrowed as she tried to recall the events leading up to this moment. The dream still lingered in her mind, the garden and the pond, the butterflies and your comforting presence. But now, reality had taken hold, and she found herself grateful to be in the familiar comfort of her own bed, with you by her side. 

"You’ve burning up with the flu sweetheart, why on earth did you go and train like this," You sighed softly, pressing the cool cloth against her forehead as you tried hard to keep the lecturing tone out of your voice. There was definitely going to be a discussion about her reckless at some point or another but right now taking care of her took priority. 

"How did I even get here?" Your wife asked weakly, only having the energy turning her head away before setting off into a series of thick, raspy coughing. 

"You passed out in the gym," You explained gently, your hand coming to trace soothing circles on her back. "I found you and carried you back to your room. You've been out for a few hours now. 

Natasha nodded weakly, her throat raw and dry from the coughing. She felt a mix of gratitude and guilt, grateful that you had found her and taken care of her, but guilty for putting yourself in a position where you had to worry about her well-being. 

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to worry you." 

You leaned in closer, your voice filled with concern. "It's okay, Nat. I'm just glad you're back and that I could take care of you. You don't have to apologise. I'm here for you." 

Tears welled up in Natasha's eyes, her fevered state making her emotions feel raw and overwhelming.  

She reached out and grasped your hand, holding it tightly as a mixture of gratitude, love, and vulnerability washed over her. 

"I needed you," she admitted softly, her voice filled with a mix of longing and exhaustion. "I thought about you when I was lying there on the gym floor. I wanted your touch, your voice. I wanted to feel safe in your arms." 

You squeezed her hand gently, your touch grounding her and providing the comfort she craved. "I'm right here, Nat. I'm not going anywhere, just let me take care of you." 

With your reassurance, Natasha allowed herself to surrender to your care. She closed her eyes, letting the weight of her illness and the fatigue pull her back into a deep slumber.  

This time, she didn't dream of gardens or butterflies. Instead, she dreamed of your presence, the sound of your voice, and the feeling of your love surrounding her, offering her everything she could ever need. 

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #marvel #sickfic #natasha romanoff sickfic #mcu #whump #natasha romanoff #Black Widow

[fandomfucker]

Hi can you do a judgment day x reader where they all go to a club to celebrate a win or something and the reader goes to get more drinks and a guy comes up to her flirting with her and she politely tries get away but he keeps on but then the judgement day comes looking for reader and protect her and just fluff when she thanks them and them saying they will always protect her or something like that? Pls💕

Word Count: 1,127

Reader's POV

The bright lights shone above, reflecting off of my metal jewelry in flashing colors of light. The atmosphere was humid with the smells of sweat and alcohol. Music blared from the speakers placed strategically around the room, causing the walls and floors to vibrate with the bass.

Bodies pressed up against me from every side but I didn't mind too much since they were the bodies of my four partners. Yes, four. How on Earth I got lucky enough to score all four of them simultaneously I'll never know but I'll cherish them forever.

The colorful flashing lights illuminated each of my partners' faces as I danced between them all.

Rhea held my hips from behind, grinding on my ass as Dominik held my waist, swaying his hips and singing along to whatever song was playing in front of me.

Damien and Finn were off in their own little world as they grinded against each other next to us, occasionally bumping hips with us as we all swayed to the music.

My face and neck were both flushed with sweat as I danced the night away with my partners. We were celebrating Dominik winning his NXT North American Championship Title back.

Covered in sweat and panting slightly, I gently pried myself away from the sandwich my two partners had put me in.

"I'm gonna go get drinks!" I shouted to the two of them as I pointed towards the bar. It wasn't too far away but with the amount of people in between it felt astronomical.

"Be careful!" Rhea shouted back before closing the space between her and Dom, the two of them now grinding on each other instead of me.

I giggled happily to myself as I made my way towards the bar. I had to dance my way around crowds of people along with individual couples so I wasn't met with a hand to the face.

Reaching the bar, I laid my hands atop the counter as I waited for the bartender to finish what he was doing. His movements with the bottles captured my attention, captivating me as I watched in awe.

"Hey, beautiful. Whatcha drinkin'?" An older man with scraggly, peppered, facial hair saddled up to my right

"Just water," I replied, turning my attention briefly to him before turning back to watch the bartender. Just trying to nicely tell him to get lost but he didn't seem to be getting the hint.

"Lemme buy you a drink, baby." His slurred voice rose to be heard above the music, only spreading the smell of his beer breath further into my face. He raised his hand and started whistling at the bartender, who, on the other side of the bar, couldn't hear or see him.

After a second or two of not being acknowledged he gave up and focused his undivided attention onto me. His beady eyes stared straight into my soul.

"No thank you. I'm actually here with someone." I smiled politely, taking a subtle step back away from the man. I did a quick sweep of the dance floor, trying to find my partners, only to see the four of them all in the exact same positions I had left them in.

"Hey, now. I don't see anyone." He did an overexaggerated look around us at the crowd as he leaned forward even closer to my face. I tried to step back again but found myself up against a stool and no longer able to move away.

The man only pushed further towards me, effectively caging me in. My heart started to race as I started to panic.

I wouldn't be able to beat a literal child in a fight, much less this drunk grown-ass man.

"Yeah, well, they're right over there." I pointed in their general direction, refusing to take my eyes off of the man in front of me though lest he try something when I'm not fully paying attention.

"Come on, sweetheart. I don't bite." He gave me a toothy grin as he laid his hand on my arm. Before I could even yank my arm out of his reach, his arm was ripped off of me by someone else.

"Yeah? Well, I do." Rhea stood behind the man, his arm gripped tightly in her fist as she glowered at the man.

Damian stood next to her, also death-staring the man as Dominik and Finn gently pulled me away from the situation and behind Rhea and Damian.

The two of them were without a doubt the most menacing of the group. Damian with his combined height and build and Rhea with her build and her overall aura. They were especially terrifying when even slightly peeved, never mind totally pissed.

I would hate to be in that man's position right about now.

And by the looks of it, so would he. He stared up at the two of them in horror as a wet spot grew along the front of his pants, trickling down and onto the floor, making my partners all take a couple of steps back.

Dominik waved over a bouncer to escort the perv out of the bar as Rhea continued to scowl disgustedly at the man as he was dragged out.

"I see you again, I'll do a lot more than just make you piss yourself." Rhea threatened making the man's face lose all color before she turned around to face me.

Her expression immediately softened as she gripped my face in her hands, turning my face every which way examining me for any harm the man might have caused.

"You alright, chica?" Damian checked up on me, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I reassured my partners. "Just a bit shaken up is all."

Finn shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, rubbing them as he steered me towards the exit. "Let's get you home, Lass."

Dominik held my hand the whole way home, rubbing small circles with his thumb, and then carried me out of the car once I fell asleep.

Laying in bed later that night surrounded by my four partners I realized just how so incredibly lucky I am. "Thank you guys for being there," I mumbled in my sleep-dazed head-space.

"Anything for you, mami," Dominik replied, giving my forehead a kiss as Rhea squeezed my middle from behind. Finn and Damian each gave one of my hips a kiss as well.

"We'll always be here to protect you Y/n," Damian added, receiving confirmation noises from my other two partners.

My partners are my protectors and nothing and nobody will ever change that. I fell asleep feeling loved and safe, encompassed by their warm bodies saving me from all kinds of harm.

#rhea ripley #the judgement day #rhea ripley x reader #wwe #wwe raw #the judgement day x reader #tjd x reader #damian priest #damian priest x reader #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #poly!judgement day #finn balor #finn balor x reader #the judgment day x reader #the judgment day

[dmitriene]

Heyyy, I've been reading your fanfics for a while and I just LOVE your writing, I swear. ITS JUST TOO GOOOOD----🙏🙏💘

If you want to request this request I was thinking of something like surprising our poor Leon 😭Something like surprise kisses, practically at any time (practically out of nowhere, you know?) something like that for us would be common (not that it wasn't for him, but you know he was practically deprived of it 😭) or just calling him an angel😢 I think that would be a bit soft/fluff but the poor thing is just not used to it so he values ​​every moment when we steal a kiss from him ;) (If it doesn't bother you, you can be a female reader, but if you want, do what you can to be better) 😔😭😢💗💗

(sorry if English is bad, it's not my mother tongue😢)

꒰ hiii!!! 🫶🏻 thank you so much hun!! i noticed you and your reblog on one of my fics too, sorry that i didn't answered on it, hope you'll like how i did your cute request, thank you sm for this and don't be sorry, we're in the same boat!🤍 ࿐ ꒱

title — affection content — leon kennedy x fem reader tags — fluff, comfort, domestic established relationship, sweet kisses and hugs, basically leon being drown in your attention.

please enjoy your reading!

The dimly lit living room was bathed in a warm, cozy glow as Leon settled comfortably on the couch, his rough face softened by the gentle glow of the television screen.

It had been a long week, filled with the usual chaos of dealing with biohazard outbreaks, and all he wanted now was a moment of respite.

You, his always surprising girlfriend, had other plans.

You tiptoed into the room, smiling mischievously, and then pounced on him with the grace of a secretive predator, Leon let out a surprised «Oof!» as you landed in his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

— «Hello there, handsome» you purred, your fingers slipping into his golden locks, ruffling his hair gently.

Leon blinked, his heart pounding, he wasn't quite used to such displays of affection, he was no stranger to intimacy, but your unflappable enthusiasm still caught him off guard every time.

You leaned over, touched his ear with your lips and whispered — «You know, in this light you look like an angel, Leon, a guardian angel»

He froze, the words washed over him in a gentle wave, no one had ever said anything so tender to him before, and it made his chest clench, the soft glow of the room seemed to highlight his blond hair, creating a halo effect that only you seemed to notice.

Your lips moved from his ear to his cheek, planting a sweet kiss there — «I mean it, you're my guardian angel»

Leon's lips curled into a shy smile and he turned his head slightly, trying to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks — «You are something else, darling» he muttered in a hoarse voice.

Your fingers continued to comb his hair, soothing and gentle — «That's what you love about me, isn't it?»

He chuckled, and this deep, warm sound echoed in your chest — «Yeah, it is»

As you continued to cuddle with him, Leon felt a wave of warmth spreading through him, a feeling he rarely experienced before you came into his life, he was used to dealing with danger, but with you it was different, you were his refuge, his haven.

Days passed and your affectionate gestures continued unabated, be it a gentle kiss when he least expected it or a tight hug that made his heart skip a beat, you made sure he knew how much he was appreciated.

One evening, as Leon stood in front of the bathroom mirror and splashed cold water on his face, you snuck up behind him and he glanced at his reflection, his hair wet and disheveled, making him look even more messy.

— «Leon» you whispered and he turned to face you, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror.

— «Yeah?» he replied, watching as you closed the distance between you.

You reached out and ran your fingers through his hair, a smile playing on your lips — «You're my favorite mess, you know that?»

Leon couldn't contain his laughter, chuckling and muttering — «I aim to please»

Your lips met his neck, leaving light kisses along his jawline — «You do more than that, you make me happy, Leon»

The sincerity of your voice melted his heart, he turned to face you, his hands finding their way to your waist — «You make me happy too» he admitted, looking at you with his blue eyes.

A gentle blush spread across your cheeks as Leon leaned down and captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, it was a confirmation of the affection he felt for you but couldn’t always express in words.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as you sighed contentedly into the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you held each other, lost in the warmth of the moment, Leon learning to appreciate the tenderness you brought into his life and cherishing every kiss, every hug and every whispered sweet word.

The weeks turned into months as your relationship continued to progress, one lazy evening you found yourself on the couch, Leon's arms wrapped securely around you as you sat on his lap facing him.

Your fingers lazily drew patterns on his chest and his chin rested on your shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent.

Leon's voice was barely above a whisper when he finally found the courage to speak — «You know, i… i never really had all this before, the hugs, the kisses, the compliments»

You turned your head and looked at him, a mixture of curiosity and concern in your eyes — «What do you mean, Leon?»

He hesitated for a moment, a faint blush filling his cheeks — «I mean, i've been in relationships before, but it's never been like this.. you… you surprise me every day with your affection, and i… i remember every kiss, every hug»

Your heart filled with love as you looked into his eyes — «Leon, i want you to feel loved, to know how special you are to me»

He turned his head, his lips touched your shoulder and he snuggled closer — «You make me feel more than special, you make me feel… cherished»

A warm smile touched your lips and you couldn't help but pepper him with soft kisses all over his face, his cheeks turning red and he shyly turned away, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

In that quiet moment, you realized that you had brought something beautiful into Leon’s life — love filled with tenderness.

It was a love he cherished the same way he cherished you, and as you continued to hold each other closer, the love between you deepened, growing stronger with every stolen kiss and every heartfelt hug.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthea, @kennedyswhore dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

© dmitriene - my masterlist or ao3 please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#[ ✒️july writing ] #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy comfort #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil leon #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fic #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader

[evilminji]

I'ma be bold! Marvel Time!

Wakanda has Vibranium. An impossible mineral that does not see like it could form naturally, right? Or there would be far more in the wider universe then just the few bits we see.

You know what ELSE is impossibly rare, minerals wise?

Ectoranium. The disasteroid. And! From Wakandan oral history? The two seem to have appeared in the EXACT SAME WAY. Out of no where. Through, very possibly, the EXACT SAME rarely opening portal. If? On the other side? There was an asteroid belt of some kind?

It would only take things aligning just right, for one to slip through.

We KNOW materials from the Zone effect the living world in strange ways. Vibranium could very well just be the dead reflection of a mineral from a different, more durable, universe. The Zone is Infinite, so it would mix pretty much EVERYTHING together into a chaotic mess.

So there could be a considerable amount of Vibranium asteroids just hanging around.

But! And more importantly! Getting hit by, then LIVING OVER, a massive fuck off Zone Rock? Would expose Wakandans to generations of Ectoplasm. ESPECIALLY with how Vibranium, by nature, holds a "charge" if you will. It would be a heat lamp of Limnality. Making everyone near it?

Better.

Not superhuman. Not fully Limnal. Because Vibranium HOLDS a charge. That Ectoplasmic energy would be stuck INSIDE the metal. Unable to truely effect anyone who isn't directly touching it. Even then, BARELY seeping into them. But? It WOULD leech, slowly, into everything around it.

The air, the water, the soil.

The PLANTS. That precious, precious, SACRED Herb.

Over time? It would loosen the ties that bind. Those pesky human limitations. Sure, it would say, grow smarter. Stronger. Live longer, better lives. Knees that ache less, backs that do not bend, bones that do not succumb. You're still human! Your DNA no different.

It's just the strength of your SOUL poking through.

Would anyone notice, if it happened slowly? Over enough generations? It's normal. Everyone here is like this. It's not superhuman. Just... HEALTHY, right? A good diet and plenty of exercise? That is what makes our skin clear and eyes sharp, teeth strong and feet sure. Right?

That healthy diet of... what was it again?

Ah yes, Ectoplasmicly charged plants? Sweet fruits and healthy vegetables. Water purged of contamination by the Ectoplasm to devours all but itself? So very crisp! Is it not?

Houses made of materials charged with it. Resting in beds, beneath covers and cloth, woven with it. Walking upon streets paved with it. What in Wakanda is NOT touched by it? In some form? Some way? Gently bathing all who live there in its unseen light?

And, tell me, WHERE do you go again? When you fall? When you join your Panther God? Mmmhmm, pockets within pockets. Lairs and territories. The Zone itself may be green, but a Lair can be what ever it's Master chooses.

But! Why do I bring this up? That the Afterlives are no doubt connected? After all, it's not like the Master's of those Lair's, the Gods that are worshipped, would just... LET people leave. It defeats the purpose of creating an "Afterlife"!

But, again! Consider! The Panther God loves the Wakandan Royal Family. They are loyal worshipers. The Panther Gods responsibility. And? The rather newly dead T'Chaka, former monarch (and thus rather informed of all the major concerns of a nation) of Wakanda, has informed the Panther God that? Gasp!

The Vibranium is, at generations long last, about to run out.

Their people are in danger.

Please! Do something!

The God can not. Buuuut... the "ghost king" of the space between, can. He must go, on a Dangerous And Heroic Soul Pilgrimage(tm) to meet with this mysterious king. Negotiate for his son and people. T'Chaka, a brave and dignified king, will of course face this challenge with all that he is.

It's very Alice in Wonderland. (The poor man.)

But the Black Panther manages to get to the still under construction castle none the less. Lead by a delightful, if mischievous, young girl by the name of "Dani" (with an i). Who reminds him, somewhat painfully, of his daughter Shuri when she was younger.

The King of the Between is a... young man.

Busy putting constellations on the ceiling, he pays them little mind. Until Dani calls out to him. Revealing that exactly like Shuri, she was a princess all along. He can see the resemblance.

He explains his issue, prepared to argue his case for however long he must. Instead he is just met with long soul searching look, a glance to Dani (who appears to vouch for him), and a nod. He is baffled. It... so easily?

People need help, he is informed. That's reason enough. Besides, Dani says you're not a fruitloop. And the young king trusts her judgment.

Let's go get your people some rocks.

(You can imagine, the ABSOLUTE SHIT STORM. Mentally, Emotionally, Politically, when the GHOST of the FORMER KING just? Shows up! Broad daylight! In the royal yard in from of the palace with a GIANT piece of Vibranium and a foreign King of The Dead.

Father... WHY. Don't get T'Challa wrong, he is about to cry he's so happy to see you. But? In PUBLIC, Father? In front of his delicious Wakandan Salad? Stop being so amused you old cat! This isn't FUNNY! Now I have to deal with this! T^T )

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

#dp x marvel #dp x mcu #dpxmarvel

[justthoughts1310]

OG ATLA is a diverse show, Netflix ATLA isn't.

In a world where so many people are fixated on skin color and skin tone, it's crazy to me that I haven't seen anyone say anything about this yet. However, I believe most people are thinking it, so I'm going to say it.

ATLA is a show of characters with diverse skin tones. Sokka and Katara are brown-skinned characters.

Whereas, Aang has white skin and Zuko and Azula have very fair almost porcelain like skin. Their skin was supposed to be without blemish, and Zuko even pointed this out in one episode.

When you look at the live-action cast of ATLA, they are all white-washed. They all have very similar skin tones with the exception of Sokka's actor who is very fair-skinned.

Now, I know what you're thinking. OP how could they all be white washed? They are all indigenous or of Asian decent. None of the main characters are white.

Well, you are correct. However, I am going to introduce you to the concept or colorism. It allows for POC characters to still be white washed, under the notion that the European beauty standard is the idea beauty standard. Translation: the lighter (whiter) the skin, the more beautiful the person.

Which is what we see here with the lightning of Sokka and Katara's skin. Now, you might say, that they were appropriately cast as indigenous. Yes, they may have been. However, idenginuous people come in wide range of skin tones. There's light-skin indigenous, brown skin indigenous, dark skin indigenous and everything in between.

Therefore, we cannot pretend that this was the only canonically correct depiction of Sokka and Katara. We certainly cannot pretend that these actors were the best fit for the job, since they both walked their parts and completely missed the motivations and central themes of their characters.

As a kid, I know that it made me as a black woman and a lot of my friends who were brown women (Indian, Asian, North African, and Latino alike) feel seen when they saw Katara. They were able to see themselves in Katara, because Katara looks like them. I felt more seen when I saw Korra, because Korra was darker and starting to approach my skin tone.

That alone should be enough to want to cast the characters correctly. I mean we so often hear people complain about the blackification of once white characters. The most recent example being Halle Balley playing the Little Mermaid. However, it has always been FAR more common, that individuals and roles of color have been played by and adapted by white actors who do not bat an eye.

Yet, that's not enough, because Katara and Sokka's skin tone meant something. It means something and so does Zuko and Azula's skin tones.

For starters, Zuko and Katara have brown skill despite living in a cold climate, in order to protect their skin from the harmful rays or the sun. Wow.... I know shocking right? 😲

Some of you are shaking your head and thinking that doesn't make sense. It's cold in the arctic, why do they need protection from the sun? It's because the sun's rays reflect off of the white snow. Without a sufficient amount of melanin, the sun's rays could burn the skin of the indigenous people who live there. However, with too much melanin, the indigenous people who live there may not absorb enough Vitamin D. Hence, the brown skin.

Secondly (this point is more race-y), Katara and Sokka at this point when the Southen Water Tribe has been demolished by the Fire Nation, are effectively peasants. They are especially peasants when compared to both the Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation.

Peasants work outside. Therefore, peasants tend to have darker skin amongst the people in their given region. They have darker skin because they are exposed to the sun more.

Royalty has lighter skin, because they stay inside palaces, they don't do manual labor, and they have servants, so their skin is always protected from the sun. Has anyone ever notice how pale Toph is and the fact that she's the only character in ATLA who has a last name? That's by design people.

The sibling pairing of Sokka and Katara and Zuko and Azula are diametrically opposed in the original show. They are the ultimate dichotomy.

Sokka and Katara:

- wear blue

- are Water Tribe

- are brown skinned

- are peasants

- grew up in tents and igloos

- are kind to each other

Zuko and Azula:

- wear red

- are Fire Nation

- are fair skinned

- are royalty

- grew up in palaces and slept in Alaskan King sized beds

- hate each other.

The sibling pairs are opposed by more than just their nations of origins and the colors of the clothes. They are also opposed by their skin tones in order to reflect their lot in life.

Someone once said that Katara would never marry Zuko because she's too dark. Her skin is not the skin of royalty, and that person was probably right.

However, Sokka and Katara's skin is powerful, because if you read the Kiyoshi novels you'll learn that there's a great lineage in regard to who gets to train the avatar. It's my belief that if Aang met all of his friends before the 100 year war, Azula and Toph would have been the only people deemed worthy to train Aang. The most powerful people in the world are usually associated with the avatar, yet in the OG show, the most disenfranchised people in the world: Sokka and Katara made Aang into a fully realized avatar.

#atla #colorism #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #nickelodeon #korra #katara #kiyoshi #four elements #sokka #aang #azula #toph #zuko #fire nation #water tribe #waterbending #firebending

[rafesgoldrings]

thinking real hard about rafe cooking burgers and hot dogs on a grill with his shirt off, reader sitting by the pool with everyone at their 4th of july party and it’s about 5-6pm ish for visual effects.

i’m actually kicking my feet about this

I’m so so sorry i’m just now getting to this! I hope everyone had a good fourth of July (if you guys do anything for it)

So…I think we know where i’m going with this one🤭 trophy wife reader and Rafe hosting their annual 4th of July celebration at their house. You made all the invitations and sent them to all your friends/family a week prior, taking note of everyone who said they’d be there. The day finally came and you were wearing your favorite bikini, you walked outside to wait by the pool once you finished the decorations. It was over the top and extravagant, red, white, and blue themed decor in every possible spot. Even the pool had some decorations, balloons floating lazily around the water as it rippled gently. Everyone started arriving around 5 and Rafe fired up the grill, wearing only his swim trunks that hung low on his hips showing off his abs, and you put on the playlist you’d created. You kept sneaking glances at him while having conversations with your friends, he just looked so good that you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t believe he was all yours and this was really your life.

Once the food was done, everyone sat at the tables you had set out and enjoyed a meal, drinks, dessert, and being able to just relax and have fun after stressing so often at work. After everyone had eaten and the food had time to settle, you’d all hopped into the pool to cool off. Rafe swam up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, softly kissing the side of your neck “Hi baby, you look beautiful. Did an amazing job with everything”. You let out a small giggle and thank him, turning around to face him and give him a kiss while wrapping your arms around his neck.

The speaker you had set out started playing your favorite song and Rafe picked you up and began dancing to the best of his ability with you in the water, laughing as you squealed and squirmed around while everyone watched with smiles. The sun had long set and it was getting late so you decided it was time for fireworks, telling Rafe to get them out of the pool house and get them ready. You’d had them put together so all you had to do was light them and they’d put on a big show, no need to light each individual one so you could watch them together.

Everyone watched in awe as the colorful bursts of light exploded and boomed into the sky, eyes lighting up with each new firework. You and Rafe were sitting on the ground wrapped up in each others arms, his chin resting on the top of your head as you just enjoyed the moment. It felt like a movie, everything just perfect and too good to be true, but this was how life was everyday with him. It always felt like a fairytale and Rafe ensured it stayed that way, sex or no sex.

“I love you, so much” he said softly, pulling away to look into your eyes and give you a kiss. It was random, but the pure domesticity of everything was stirring up his emotions. He never thought he’d end up here, with a beautiful wife, gorgeous home that was equal parts of both you and him, hosting events like this with friends and family that he actually enjoyed, and all of it was due to you giving him a chance.

“I love you baby” you gave him a lazy smile, placing a few more small kisses on his lips and laughing as he pulled you to the ground with him. The both of you on your backs just watching the fireworks go off, wrapped up in each other like nobody was around, the ring on your finger reflecting every color that went off in the night sky and shining so bright, this was the moment you’d dreamt of your whole life and you couldn’t be happier.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks rafe #trophy wife! reader x rafe #asks <3

[koishiro]

# - 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : bumping into (what you thought was) your enemy on a winters morning, you realise he isn’t so much of the annoying boy you once thought he was. bakugo just wants you to know how deeply he feels for you, chasing that hug that was ripped so viciously away from him

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : slight angst to fluff??

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 2k

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 : i put this off for so long… (this is actually kinda pointless)

masterlist | bnha masterlist

I bundled myself up in my winter coat — the same old grey one my mother had bought me years prior, slowly falling apart yet still thick and warm. I hadn’t walked a block before I felt the chill of an impending snowstorm settling around my shoulders like a blanket; but undaunted by what lies ahead on this brisk morning walk towards the school building, I gathered up the courage to continue. There's something special about stepping out into nature after all - no matter what conditions lay ahead.

The cold morning air numbed my nose as the icy breath of winter settled upon the landscape. It was colder than usual, prompting me to draw my coat tightly around myself in an effort to contain my body's warmth. The trees were beautiful that day, with no green leaves in sight—just a blanket of fresh white snow dancing by way of a glimmering light between them and reflected off the frozen-over lake where a few daring children slid across its surface like seals on ice.

There was something indefinable in the crisp air and soft light of this morning that made me feel more alive. Everywhere around, colors shone in a sharper hue than usual, and birdsong sang through the trees with a special clarity. I half-closed my eyes and breathed it all in - cinnamon spice from somewhere nearby mingling with the smoky scent of woodfires out on nearby stalls; remembering shared Christmases back home surrounded by family laughter; wondering what they'd be doing right now.

I had been living in Japan not too long and was attending the prestigious U.A High School, where heroes came to refine their abilities and skills. But despite my best efforts, there was one boy who seemed to have a problem with me; he always picked on me for no reason other than maybe his own insecurity or jealousy of my growing reputation as a powerful hero. His taunts were unrelenting and every time I encountered him it felt like an assault from the inside out – I could let myself be thrown off balance by his words or strive to take back control of what he thought would break me down.

You were well aware of Bakugo's temper, which could sometimes spiral into an eruption of unchecked anger. But the most incredible thing about him was his restraint. Despite this misdirected fury, you never saw Bakugo direct it at anyone in particular — not even you who he had made a habit of singling out for years previously. It seemed that though his voice rose to a deafening pitch and those flares of emotion coursed through him like electricity, they somehow remained safely contained until they could eventually be dissipated in harmless fizzles and scowls against the wall or table instead aimed at any living soul.

Bakugo was a raging storm in human form, his temper quick to flare and his voice booming even when he wasn't speaking. His words were always tinted with anger or annoyance whenever you had the misfortune of being within earshot. You would frequently find yourself watching him from afar, holding your breath as if bracing for some kind of ripple effect akin to dropping a pebble in still water - any attempt at conversation instantly dissipated like dust in the wind no matter how innocent it seemed and although you never really liked him, there was an air of resignation that surrounded both your interactions; one born out of desperation and necessity rather than out of desire.

Still, something was different this time as he looked at you with a newfound emotion, like he had just caught a dazzling vision come to life outside the barriers that both societies had seemingly placed between you. His words were more gentle now and even in the cold winter air around you felt an unrestrained warmth; one that rapidly began to thaw your heart and have it beat with a foreign feeling you had never experienced before.

Bakugo stood before me like a soldier at rest – tall and proud, but still uncertain. His breath was visible in the cold winter air as he exhaled heavily. He wore his usual confidence on top of an otherwise unreadable face, clad in a fluffy navy bobble hat, the kind with woolen pom-poms and a soft foldover band. His signature orange winter coat was cut and draped around him like an ancient cape; two large buttons on either side kept it secured against his body. His feet were sheathed in high black Doc Martens - thick leather uppers, heavy rubber soles – which gave him both stability and protection from whatever might threaten below.

Tension emanated from him and his eyes flickered with nervous energy as he shifted from one foot to the other, not knowing what to say or do next. Despite this display of uncertainty I could feel how strong he was beneath it all; a force too powerful for any mere words or actions by himself alone to suppress.

The same could be said of me, though I was more shy and introverted compared to him. A soft pink scarf hung from my end, complimenting my skin and my hair situated in an intricate updo. I drew strength from his presence, becoming bolder as he shifted from one foot to the other.

He gestured with his outstretched hand, the metal of my house keys glinting in the morning light. "You dropped this, dumbass" he said softly. I looked down to see my own keychain lying in his open palm, each individual key jutting upwards like a tiny hill.

“Oh, thank you Bakugo” I gave a grateful smile and reached out my gloved hand for my keys but before I could take them back, Bakugo's fingers closed around them, drawing them closer to his chest - holding them captive. My gaze shifted to his face where a frown had planted itself across the brows of his deep eyes, “why do you always call me that?”

I gazed up at him, noting the pensive expression that had come across his face. It was clear to me this bothered him - why wouldn't I call him Bakugo? I had no reason to call him anything else nor did I want to. But instead of words, all that came out of my mouth was an uncertain "Sorry?"

His frustration had reached its boiling point. He gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides as the words left his lips - “you always call me Bakugo. Why?” His expression changed from one of anger to something sadder and more lost, as if he wanted desperately for someone to understand why he felt so frustrated all the time. His arms dropped limply down by his side in a gesture of helplessness and despair before finally turning away from me, instead glaring at the snow covered ground.

He moved forward slowly, his feet grinding out a path in the crisp white snow with each step. His winter coat was like a beacon amidst all the greys and whites of our silent surroundings; marking his presence for me to follow as I kept my distance behind him.

The surrounding trees were frozen and still, their icy frosted leaves reminding me of childhood winters when I stayed up late searching between constellations in night skies trying to find warmth amongst celestial forms. Breaking through our shared silence he muttered something under his breath that seemed small yet profound enough that it urged me closer towards him than ever before without us having said a word.

“‘m sorry”

I abruptly halted my steps, and heard Bakugo follow suit a few feet in front of me. My head spun around to face him, and I uttered in disbelief: “You’re sorry?” The sarcasm of my voice was thick enough to choke on, a scathing undertone only barely contained by its edge of seething contempt. “Do you know what exactly it is that you’re apologising for? Or is this simply another one of your feeble attempts at humour?"

Bakugo shifted uncomfortably in his spot, clearly not used to having to deal with these sorts of feelings - let alone apologise for them. His words were stilted and clumsy as he tried to express himself, "I’m a dick I know, but I don’t mean to be-"

Bakugo cut himself off as soon as he noticed the deadpan look on my face. His mouth quirked downwards into a frown and his eyes darted away from mine. He began to fidget, it was clear he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself in this uncomfortable moment.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, almost uncertainly at first. "I mean... I was aware of what I was doing, and I know you don't exactly like me," His voice was low now; slightly embarrassed by the admission of knowing our strained relationship for too long had been unrequited on both our parts.

"I can't help it," he continued, lifting his gaze back up towards mine. "You're just so... nice" He said the last bit softly, almost as if he were telling me a secret and didn't want anyone else to hear it. I felt my cheeks flush at the sudden compliment and found myself wanting to say something back, but I couldn't think of anything suitable.

I stared up at him as the words spilled out of his mouth, my brows furrowed in confusion, “You get along with everyone and it pisses me off” His voice was laced with frustration and anger, “the stares you get and the way people just find it so easy to approach you - it really fucking pisses me off”

Bakugo held his hands tightly in front of him, his eyes wild and bright with fury. His clenched fists trembled while he spoke, each word coming harder than the last. "And I'm over here thinking over what to say to you every fucking morning," he ranted, "every fucking morning while you greet everyone else in that damn class except for me!"

As the words left him like arrows flying from a bowstring, so did all of his remaining fight. He hung limply between them both; drained by what had just flown from his mouth as if a heavy veil had been lifted revealing something underneath too vulnerable and raw for him to handle.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out why he was so angered by something that had nothing to do with either one of us - why would I greet someone who’d snarl at me either way?

“Remember valentines? Those stupid flowers you got on your desk?”Of course I did, how could I not? It was the first time anyone got me anything remotely thoughtful. “I spent two fucking hours picking them out, for some stupid fucking meaning that got half-and-half a hug - he stole my hug!”

The words hit me like a slap across the face. I would've laughed at the pout on his face if it weren't for the sheer seriousness lacing his voice. He spoke of these small tokens of love with such wistfulness - as though he had been robbed of some deep, passionate feeling that those little flowers held within them.

His unchecked rage and emotions were evident on his features as if someone had given him back an empty box after holding out their hands for something valuable, something precious; his stolen hug.

Bakugo had tried to mask his handwriting without realising how similar it was to Shoto’s…

All this time I had thought it was Shoto who had given me those beautiful pink tulips tied with a delicate white laced bow. The sheer joy and amazement that filled my heart when I saw them sitting on my desk nearly made me squeal in delight. Without thinking, I ran over to where Shoto was standing and wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug only to now realize months later that it was Bakugo's broken frown behind those flowers all along.

”I didn't know…”, my words dragging from me like a broken record. My voice was but a whisper, laden with the pain he must've felt all this time. Those small gestures that had gone unnoticed had meant more than I could have ever guessed; it stung to know that they'd been overlooked completely when all he wanted was for them to be seen by me - for me to understand everything without him having to say anything at all.

“That’s what hurts,” he spoke louder now, but his resolution held no heat or spite - just hurt in its purest form; acknowledgement of what hadn't been realised earlier gracing his lips as I waited to hear whatever it was lingering in his voice.

"All I ever wanted was for you to see me," he said quietly, averting my gaze and swallowing hard before continuing. "I know that none of what I did is forgivable. But all these years, I kept on hoping that maybe someday you would actually see me"

He looked up at me, an unspoken plea in his eyes. "I'm not asking for you to forgive or forget - I just wanted you to understand why I made all of those mistakes, why my life became so disordered and chaotic. All those stupid things I did to you, pulling your hair or kicking your chair - all for you to see me, ‘m sorry”

Those two words had never held so much emotion before. All those teasing moments, all the crying I had done meant nothing yet meant everything.

Closing the small distance between our feet, I hugged him with such warmth it battled his own. Bakugo was clearly shocked at first, not realising its intent would end with my arms wrapped around his middle. He remained motionless for a moment, hesitating before slowly wrapping his own muscular arms around me in an embrace that felt like a shield from the world outside our small bubble of newly found comfort.

“What did they mean?” I said, my voice muffled by his orange puffer jacket. Tilting his head to level my own he stared down at me with a confused look, “the flowers, what did they mean?”

He moved in closer and pushed back the collar of his coat to get a better look into my eyes; I could smell a slight hint of cologne on him that was sweet but faint and it made me shiver slightly in response. His lips parted as if about to speak before he suddenly paused again and ran one hand through the sandy brown tresses on top of his head

“You can’t laugh at me, ‘kay?”

Resting my chin on his chest, I stared up at him in wonder. He mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out; asking him to repeat himself, he mumbled again, this time clearer: “I care for you” Those simple words sent a flood of emotion through me that felt like a million stars lighting up my eyes – “that’s what they mean”

Had I thought I’d be here now, wrapped in the arms of the boy I swore to hate as he whispers these words to me, I would've thought I was crazy.

I felt a warmth spreading through me even though it was colder than cold outside but that didn't matter because my heart no longer held any hate for him anymore; I had let it melt away with the first touch of our embrace beneath that snow-covered sky.

“Can I have my keys back now?”

—

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 (2) : #3 in my 𝘶𝘱𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 / 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘴

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

#‧₊˚🖇️ #⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒂 #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #katsukibakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugō #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha fluff #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha katsuki bakugo #bnha katsuki #bakugo x reader

[zaynsxsoul]

Honey sunbathed summer | Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: sleepy summer afternoon at the trailer park, ice cream debates, and sloppy kisses with Eddie ♡

warnings: 1k words, fluff, curse words, established relationship, play fighting, teasing, just a short cozy summer drabble

my masterlist

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The heated rejoicing colors of purple, blue and coral red, light brightly the dozy sunday skies of Forest Hills Trailer park. The flushed summer sunset rises the glossy evening, which is only around two hours away until the moon begins its hike within the stars.

The four p.m. afternoon has a certain magical aura to it. The one when simpleness turns into mere worthy admiration. The start of summer at Hawkins usually has that effect.

Right in front of the limit that crosses the division between the quiet forest and the trailer park, lies a kiddy pool that’s being more than enjoyed by children whose voices reflect the excitement of the simpleness that water gives at any age.

A racing water slip slide is set right across Eddie’s trailer too. A hose sends the right amount of water and soap ratio for it to be slippery enough for the nine year olds who play some sort of made up secret coded game that only they understand. The watermist kisses the tip of your nose from time to time.

The thought of summer accompanied by fudgy banana splits, water, the smoky whiff of a deliciously glazed barbecue aroma coming from nearby, forest tree leaves transporting the warm heat, and the essence of freshly mowed lawn that vaporizes the smell of wet dirt and grass, never fails to spike a shot of serotonin.

And within the immortalized echo of the melody produced by the bustle from the neighbors, wind chimes, the evening honey whiff, water splashes and cicadas, your laughter fades into that chorus among Eddie’s voice.

Because although outside on his porch the heat is still unbearable, skin being sticky under your two piece playsuit, and every texture feeling fuzzy and icky, that doesn’t even come close to ruining spending time with him.

The smell of your coconut scented sunscreen feels like summer itself. Even more when you had applied it, –or more like bathed— Eddie’s reluctant scrunched face in it as well.

And how couldn’t you? after the awful experience of his almost burnt to shrimp-skin the other day at the pool. But as impossible as it seems, even with gooey sunscreen that draws a line from his cheeks and down his nose, he looks radiant, sitting just a few inches away from you.

With hair pulled back and a low pony from which some reluctant little hairs fall, he smiles. It’s hard not to think about how enchantingly adorable he is with that hairstyle. As adorable as you’d love to squish his little face and make him turn love sick out of kisses.

His torso is covered by a very thin black fabric shirt. Your bare leg brushes from time to time with his knee. And you can swear that his warmth adds even more heat to the afternoon. A certain type of heat that you probably don’t mind feeling.

He himself is in awe at the beautifully deified sight of your cheeks, plum red and glossy, at the way your legs sit crossed in front of his and move sporadically, how your shoulders shine and bathe golden under the toasty sun. And he can’t help but adore the way your eyebrows furrow, concentrating on the deck of twenty plus cards that you hold right below your face.

“You’ve had the worst luck today” He mocks. The cheshire cat-like grin teasing ever more when you’re taking your sweet time to pick a card.

“I can’t let you win again.” You pout, arms falling down as if you were mid-surrender. “It means you’d win over my Candy Center Crunch!” He chuckles boyishly, and you react with a mixture between an eye roll and a grin when you understand the reason why. “You’re being dirty”

“Funny Feet would be better though” The sight of his spread abdomen, glimmering with water and sweat when he leans back being supported by his hands is surely divine.

“Eddie! God, that sounds even worse” He can’t help but smile stupidly at the sight of your nose scrunch. “Do I honestly have to not just bear with you stealing my ice cream but also underestimating it for a Funny Feet popsicle?”

“Uh tut-tut, not stealing, winning, snippy” He reprimands playfully.

“Who even likes funny feet? I’d only let you undermine center crunch over a snoopy ice pop or choco taco”

“What?” And he sounds crushed. Like if you had said the most insultingly revolting thing ever. “The snoopy ice pop sucks, babe” He states mid chuckle. “It’s just fake marshmallow. Fuck, it’s not even an ice pop”

“It is an ice pop!”

“If there’s no fruit or water is not an ice pop” He states.“you only like it because it’s a dog” You shrug, playfully ticked.

“It’s not any dog, Eddie, it’s Snoopy” He pinches the doughy soft flesh of your thigh gently after the correction.

“Either way, I won”

By laying his last remaining card on the main deck, his victory is endured. Cheerful hands shake your shoulders back and forth in a celebratory motion until the palms also drum your legs gently.

And you still can't believe that he is walking over to the kitchen and taking your beloved crunchy ice cream out of the fridge, much less how he is mocking you by showing it and smiling like a child from where he stands.

“Fuck, this is so good”

Your eye almost twitches when he plops on the couch, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to follow and sit beside him. The coldness of the tin-like material is dripping water.

You’re staring deeply.

With the corner of his eye and a smile evoked from the edge of his lips, he looks at you in amusement while fidgeting with the crinkly bag. As if seeing you like this was the funniest thing he’d ever experienced.

And in the back of his mind, when the ice cream is already out of the wrapper, he actually feels bad by just the sight of the way your eyes reflect those of a puppy imploring for food.

“Here” He hands it over, although you don’t take it yet. “You can see it”

“Stop it!” His burlesque snort that mocks your plea turns into a gasp when you push his own hand when he leans for a bite.

The taste of revenge is sweet. Quite literally.

The expression on your face changes to a splendid smile, observing his vainilla covered cheek and reminiscing the way it landed there because of you.

“Give me a bite” You pout. mouth watering at the sight of his lips and teeth sinking into it

He nods. Unbothered by the cream that drips from his face. You wish you could seem more stern, but when he’s leaning near your face making a growling lion sound ready to bite into your cheek, It’s absurdly impossible to not break down to giggles.

“You know what I mean, Eds”

“No! you bet on this, you little cheater. Plus, look at what you just did” His finger points at his distressed cheek, as if you hadn’t noticed yet.

“I can fix that”

Your hand presses onto his thigh while scooting over. The tip of your tongue licks expertly the trace of the sweet chocolate iridescence that drips from his lip, right where the vainilla drop slides. His skin is soft against your tongue.

From the proximity he can feel the scent of your perfume, the reminiscences of wildflower shampoo mixed in with sunscreen, pool chlorine and your own aroma. It’s a bewilderment that makes him shiver even inside of the heat box that his trailer is.

And when your face leans a little closer, his own gesture drops once you’re swiftly biting into the ice cream very slightly. A cold bit of the peanut covered chocolate crust falls to his leg, instantly melting over his warmth.

“Stop it” He laughs. “Thief” But it’s pointless to make a fuss out of it when he has already surrendered.

“Whoops, sorry” You say, the tip of your tongue licking the trace of the chocolate on his leg. And shortly after, the trace that melts down his fingers and knuckles.

“You can’t do that” You raise your eyebrows innocently. “This! with the cute little face and big eyes.”

“Why not? Always seems to work” The silence of the stare is gratifying, and when he grins it feels like he’s trying to say ‘it really fucking does’.

“You know? It’s real sad you stole from me, cause’ I had something else for ya’”

With a covered face behind rebel brown locks of hair that escaped the pony, he looks over his shoulder and seems to stretch to grab something. Sparks rise when he’s pulling out a beautiful snoopy ice pop that crinkles like the sound of heavenly chants.

“You got it for me?” When your smile turns into a dazzling glare, and your eyes shoot flickering stars, he yearns for the magnificent instant to last a little longer.

“Of course I did, I said I despise the snoopy fake ice pop, or ice cream or whatever, but shit, how I love that smile of yours when you see it.”

Moved by burning excitement, your hand moves to grab it, but when he pulls it away, your face naturally lands near his. So taking advantage of the situation, the skin of your cheek purposely but flawlessly rests on his jaw.

“Not so fast. What am I getting in return?” The magical sound of his question ardently stirs the butterflies on your lower belly.

“A bite out of it?”

When his mouth puckers expectantly, the sweetness of your kiss mends the itch of his expecting lips. The chocolate taste that lingers on him is heavenly, dipped proudly, praising the feeling. Your mouth is cold from the ice cream. His is colder.

It’s gooey, and messy, and sticky. And that’s what makes it so special.

When you pull away, a love sick smile welcomes you back from the celestial trip. And with nothing more to say other than thinking ‘well deserved’, he hands over the ice pop.

“Thank you, Teddie” You coo, pulling the bag away to reveal snoopy’s cheeky smile.

He might adore the proximity of the defining moment once you sit on his lap more than anything else. The dear moment pains and soothes his heart in the most beautiful ways.

“You’re welcome, ice pop” His giggles come out like a mewl.

From honey sunbathed shoulders, Eddie pulls you in closer to his chest. Serenity steps into the moment when his jawline bobs with each bite lolling you towards tranquility, when his arms hug you close, when his proximity is intimately tender. And although you’re both sticky and sweaty, it couldn’t be more insignificant right about now.

The sun is finally fading. And the sky prepares to welcome the night, which you hope comes with faith of a cooler breeze. through the open front door and blowing curtains, you admire with heavy eyelids the way the golden evening glimmers his skin.

And when the warmth of his embrace makes you dizzy, the taste of vanilla takes a trip down your taste buds, and laughter and the conversations from not so far away make your heart swole, you think there’s nowhere in this world you’d aspire more to be, than here.

Because when summer makes it’s glorious entrance, it means afternoons being spent just like this in Eddie’s company. Which always makes it all better.

Even better than Snoopy Ice creams, Crunch Center, and Choco Tacos all merged into one.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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