#Who knew their colors could bring someone so much joy???

[i-really-like-phrogs]

The Gay alien Chuck E. Cheese is finished at last!!

#wlw #lesbian pride #my art #aliencore #crafts #Lesbian #sapphic #Oh I am so happy with it!!! #I’ve wanted to make something super funky and gay for a while #These are the first lesbian flags I’ve ever painted #Who knew their colors could bring someone so much joy??? #And I couldn’t picture it- but there’s a poster on the left side of the closet that says #“Queers are out of this world!” #Its nearly impossible to see- but I know it’s there

[heliosundercover]

Batboys and

how they talk about you

Bonus fic as a thank you for allowing my jason fic to do well 💋

Dick Grayson-

, who talks about you like a goddess walking the earth, loves you more than words. The type to talk about you so much that people doubt your real

 

“My girlfriend is so sweet, guys. Today we went to that one library I like. Guys, have I told you even her favorite book is adorable?”

It doesn’t help that he tends to get caught up in certain details, completely ignoring other ones. No one knew your name until a week into dating.

 

Jason: “If you asked me before, I would’ve never believed him; weve all gone a little insane, but now that Ive seen proof, I'm happy for him. He gets to be well-dick, and she gets to smile and nod, but I swear she enjoys it. They’re weird together.”

 

Tim: “We love Dick. A lot, but we were looking at a wonderful facility that has an in-patient gym in the beginning. But the way he looks at her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did miracles.” 

 

Damian: “At least I believed him at the start. He was smitten and absolutely whipped. I thought it was just like Dick. I don’t know why I, of all people, was the only one that caught it.

 

Bruce: Yeah, I knew she was real. Why would I ruin everyone’s fun? I mean, Dick is a bit. Aloof sometimes… I'm not exactly surprised; he’s not exactly amazing socially sometimes, but with her, he’s extra awkward, and I watched him flirt with men and women. But look, as long as he’s happy, we’re happy for him.”

 

Dick is a completely drunken idiot, with so much training thrown out the window. 

(Can you tell I'm not a fan of a playboy dick😞 im sorry i love a good love stuck man)

 

Jason Todd-

, who is extremely protective of his peace, sometimes acts as if you’re fragile. He was the type to invite you to a family game night where he called a family meeting an hour beforehand, forcing everyone to be on their best behavior. Needless to say, it was awkward, but one uno round later, he realized you fit in just fine. 

 

“I knew my girl would win. She's a gangster.”

boast when you absolutely dominate everyone playing in the game. You never quite beat the cheating allegations.

 

Dick: "I don’t know how he did it, but he found someone who brings out a side of him I haven’t seen in years. No one is that good at uno; naturally, at least, I think she’s a meta. I'm not saying that non-metas aren’t good at uno.”

 

Tim: "You know how in movies the girl animals just have lashes, and how the boy is always darker and the girl will be like a lighter color? It's like she was made for him. I'm glad he found his anamorphic girl, Wolf. But, can I be honest? I think Alfred was telling her our cards.”

 

Damian: "I'm glad Jaybird is happy. He’s definitely earned it. Even if she cheats at UNO, they’re perfect for each other. Hell, the cheating is what makes them perfect for each other.”

 

Bruce: "I'm glad to see Jason happy. The sparkling in his eyes, the boyish smile, is the same joy I saw after he hit me with a car iron and ran off, giggling. I like her.”

 

 

Bruce Wayne-

is proud to show you off publicly. He’s not one to spoil someone, but sometimes he can’t help but pick up trinkets for you. Sometimes you’d wake up to keychains, jewelry, or even clothes somewhere in your shared room. 

 

He tried so hard to be there for you and protect you from his line of work. Some nights, he wouldn’t come to bed at all to avoid waking you. Some nights, if you worried too much, he would send Dick out in the Batman costume so he could be by your side. 

 

"Shh, baby, its ok... Tonight, I'm staying with you, okay? I love you; do you know that? And I know sometimes the risk scares you, but I’ll always be here for you.”

 

Dick: "It's nice knowing Bruce isn’t constantly brooding about it. Well, I knew that fact already, but this is different. I only see a light in his eyes when he’s doing stuff he absolutely loves. Like when he talks to his parents tombs and we pretend we don’t see him.”

 

Jason: "i think that man would come back from the dead more dramatically than I did for this woman. And I waged like 3 wars.”

 

Tim: “Sometimes I see them sitting in the library together in silence. All they do is enjoy each other’s presence. Its adorable”

 

Damian: “Dads earned it. And when I say he’s earned it, I mean he’s earned it!”

 

Bruce isn’t the easiest to be with, but he always makes up for it.

#dc x reader #jason todd x reader #nightwing imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #dc imagine #self indulgence at its finest

[aceofpatience]

🤍Love Messages from your soulmate🤍<- Pick-a-Pile reading

Hello, my little oysters!🐚

If you wish to know what your soulmate would like to say to you, you are in the right place 🍪. I will be channeling their energy, looking into their love language and seeing what they love the most about you, as well as any extra messages that might come through. If anything resonates, please leave me a comment below. It will bring me much more joy than any chocolate bar can (so you know it's serious). Hope you enjoy! Shall we SEA?🍫

Pile 1. -> The Tower

Your soulmate energy: Duality, twins. Your person chooses the hard way. They are the savior, rather in the shadows. Even though you are destined for each other, they still want to be the best option for you. If they have the inclination that you could be more secure by yourself, they would step back and love you from afar. They have strong energy, kinda stubborn - when they set their mind on something they see it to completion. And that’s how they feel about you. No doubt in their mind that they want you. For you they are the noble knight, but for your enemies? Not so much.

Their love language: Communication. A lot compliments. They just expres their feeling for you openly. You can see on their face how much they adore you. Quality time - always ready to choose you over other things. Providing space for you. Neck kisses. Playing your body like an instrument (love to hear you moans, being vocal). Playing with your hair.

What they adore about you: Your quirks. They really appreciates how you two perfectly completes each other in terms of who is the more dominant or submissive partner (quite effortlessly) - it can shift from time to time. They love that they can see themselves starting a family with you. Also your hair, figure, curves (whenever you have them or not).

The messages: They want to say A LOT to you. Very prominent throat chakra. They really want to protect you, take care of you and your needs, again knight vibes. Classical provider. „Even if right now I cannot take care of you, I will, when it’s time and nurture you. You, my love, deserve the best and I have to make sure I can give you exactly that, nothing less.” It’s all or nothing for them. Even if they are away from you, it’s in order to create a safe environment for you. „For now, I’m in the shadows, waiting for you to call for me.” They are so devoted to you, they want to eliminate any danger in your life. „I just need you to choose me, my dear.” -> It’s almost like you have someone else in your mind right now. It’s your call who you will choose.

Pile 2. -> The Death

Your soulmate energy: Intense, captivating gaze. They are alone right now. I see them sitting by themselves by the water, calmly smirking (??? Idk, dude). But the big change is incoming - the water turns it’s color. Longing in their heart. I think when you finally come together (lol), you will quickly commit. And it’s gonna heal them, with you they will be given a whole package (the family for example).

Their love language: Snake. Teasing. They love pulling you close to the edge (both sexually and not) and than withdrawing, keeping you on your toes. Might be into begging (big on oral sex). They observe you VERY closely but you might not even notice to what extend. It’s like out of the blue they bring you some gift you always wanted, but never told them about. And you like „How did you know???” And they just *smirk*. And they are kinda controlling, but let me explain! They give you the space to make your own decisions, but it’s like they knew from the begging what you will chose. Cos they know you.

What they adore about you: Equally pulling forces. They love you both are able to keep up with the other’s pace. It’s not about what they adore ABOUT you, they simply love how you are inside (It wasn’t supposed to be that dirty lol) - I mean your SOUL. To them you are strong and stubborn and invincible in your ways of being. You have so many faces and they love them all. Im getting the feeling you both knew each other in the past lives (one tribe energy). And you legs - they find them hot for sure.

The messages: Sleeping beauty vibes. „I know you’re sleeping now, *insert nickname*, but I will get to you as soon as I can, I promise. And I will bring some nice gifts.” *Winking.* Very cheeky energy, very flirty. I feel they might be using some corny nicknames for you, first as a joke to poke you, but you will (secretly) learn to love them. „I’m on my way to you, you are my most important MISSION. Wait for me, trust this connection. Don’t stres about it, darling.” They love your face, to them you are unbelievably beautiful, kind of like a fairytale princess/prince.

Pile 3. -> The Magician

Your soulmate energy: Powerful. Determined. Sooo smug. „Rich boy” vibes. I feel like they grew up in a very wealthy environment, surrounded by people who sometimes were ready to fulfill their every need as a child without any questions. But even though everything is going great for them, they are seekers, constantly chasing after something. When they want something they go after it, they love to chase. They appear more put-together and serious to the outside world but you see their more chaotic and emotional, even mischievous side.

Their love language: Even in relationship they will still act as if they want to win you over, still putting in the effort. They are your biggest supporter, they see the sides of you you don’t like and put them into the light, turning them into art. In this relationship you will reach your full potential.

What they adore about you: Your intellect. And maybe your more rational side. It’s like you’re the only one that gives it to them straight. Your harsher words might turn them on.  As a child they may have been coddled a lot and they love your honest approach, even if  it can be rough. They like to bargain and negotiate with you, even about small things. Your fight might evolve into something more steamy… heh. I feel you might have a lot of inside jokes.

The messages: „You’re so special.” They love the feeling of being in love with you. Being alone with you brings them emotional fulfillment. „I see how you have become more indhpentd and I’m so proud with you. You’re my queen and I can’t wait to find this solitude and peace with you.” Even when you are fighting they feel at peace. And again - kinda SMUG. Maybe for some of you - this connection may have started as a hookup that led them to the need to win you over just for satisfaction of winning AND THEN they actually feel in love. There is no doubt in their mind that they want you, they will reach you and claim you. hEH.

Pile 4. -> The Moon

Your soulmate energy: Solitude. Mysterious. Rich spiritual world. They might get cold feet when they think about you (more literally than metaphorically lol). Your connection is guarded form above (Angel protectors squad). They are very patient and mature individuals. They are not very verbal about their emotions, but it’s not like they are neglecting them, they ale calmly staying by your side.

Their love language: No grand dramatic gestures of love, but you will find yourself in this warm and beautiful atmosphere created by them. They are great listeners, offering you support and showing their care through simple everyday actions. You will feel seen, never neglected or alone.

What they adore about you: A LOT. Words aren’t their strongest suit, but their love for you is true. They love your youthful, enthusiastic or a bit overconfident energy. Compared to them you seem as a big ball of sunshine. They love emotions and especially how you express them. The joyful part of you make them come out of their shell. They love your body, I think they are actually quite kinky lol. It’s like they seem reserved, maybe innocent, but then this demon comes out to play. 

The messages: They want to take care of you, every day make sure you’re okay. If you will be apart they for sure will be texting you every second, checking up on you (gif and emojis). A little mermaid (without a voice!) „You are a completely new creature to me, but you’re my dream come true. I want to be a part of your world.” They leave their comfort zone for you, and even though it scares them, it’s SO worth it. Im getting that they have so many warm feelings about you, that it’s hard for them to put them into words.

#tarot #pick a card tarot #pick a card #love reading #tarot reading #tarot witch #pick a reading #love #pac reading #pac tarot #love messages #18+ content #18+ tarot #spotify #intuitive

[coupleoffanfics]

teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that I was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis reader #yandere batfam #God damn you anon #you beautiful bastard #I'll clean this up later when I sleep #x reader #x batsis reader

[shadowdaddies]

Living In Color

Azriel x Reader

based on this ask

Summary: After losing everything in the war, you struggle to find the joy in life - until you start having dreams of scarred hands that inspire you to pursue art again.

Warnings: mentions of war, death, trauma/depression

Days blurred together, the dim sunlight that dared to show through the cracks in your window curtains the only sign that time was passing in the outside world. The faelights never turned on in your apartment, food turning stale as you willed your body to shut down, just as your mind had ever since the war. 

Everyone was gone. Your mother, father, brother, friends. All were lost to battle - innocent people, gone from this world, and you were left alone to pick up the pieces. 

You were once an artist, your favorite subjects to paint being your family and friends. The paintings of their joyful faces surrounded you in your home before you tore them all down, hiding them away in the dark as you did yourself. 

You stared at your hands. Hands that were once consistently covered in the bright colors of your paints, now dry and cracked from lack of care. Hands that once created beautiful art and brought joy to yourself and others, now withering away with your heart.

Tears soaked your pillow as you cried yourself to sleep, as you had every night for months. You braced yourself for your usual dreams, the nightmares that haunted you of your mother’s lifeless eyes, your brother’s last words - but they didn’t come. 

That night, you dreamt of hands. They were damaged hands, like your own, but they were covered in scars. You didn’t see who they belonged to, but the hands held yours in their own, a soft, gentle touch despite their appearance.

It was the first night you had slept through in weeks, and you managed that day to take a bath. You looked at your own hands in the tub, holding one in the other as gently as the ones from your dreams held you. It was shocking, to feel that you were still capable of such tenderness. That night, you found oils to rub on your hands, soothing the dry cracks before you fell asleep.

Your dreams were, again, filled with those beautiful scarred hands. Tonight, they offered you a flower - a bright yellow daffodil, vibrant like your favorite sweater. 

The dreams continued - those hands sometimes bringing you flowers, holding your hands, brushing softly against your cheek. One night, they handed you a paint brush. You jerked awake, tears streaming down your face as you ran through your apartment, turning on every faelight as you opened the door to your closet. You pulled out every painting, the bright faces of people you loved and missed smiling at you through your memories of them. 

Something snapped inside of you as you looked at the picture of your mother. You had missed her face so dearly, having only seen it through your nightmares. By hiding the joyful moments, you had only remembered those that haunted you. 

As the sun rose that day, you opened up the curtains and let the light in. Pulling on your favorite yellow sweater, you set off towards the art studio that had opened down the road, ready to live in color.

Thanking the woman at the front counter, you borrowed paints and took a spot at an easel. As you stared at the blank canvas, it occurred to you that the idea of painting the people you missed was much easier in thought. You stared down at your yellow sweater, tears threatening to spill as you felt more and more like an imposter. Someone trying to be who you once were, and as much as you wished to be that person again, you knew you never could. Letting out a shaky sigh, you looked for your bag, ready to leave the studio when a voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Having trouble with inspiration?” a sweet voice, like silver bells sounded from behind you. You turned over your shoulder to see the High Lady of the Night Court behind you. Eyes wide, you fumbled for an answer while she smiled softly at you. “My name is Feyre,” she greeted, a tattooed hand reaching for yours. 

You took her hand, feeling its softness against your own as you introduced yourself, and it clicked. “Actually, I think I’ve just found my inspiration.”

You eagerly reached for your paints, mixing the colors together in a vibrant yellow, a golden brown, cobalt blue - and painted the hand that gave you the daffodil. 

You returned to the studio, day after day painting the hands from your dreams. Your inspiration. The hands that brought color back into your life. These were hands that were scarred, the hands of someone who had been hurt like you had, yet still reached out, still brought light and softness to the world.

Slowly, you began feeling like yourself again. You saw the bright colors of the rainbow, the twinkle of the stars against the night sky. When a child accidentally flicked paint on your favorite blue dress while you painted, you laughed for the first time in ages. 

The small boy apologized, his tiny wings tucking in behind him as he gaped at the paint that covered your dress. Feyre ran up behind him, swooping the little tike into her arms as she took in your appearance. “Oh gods, I am so sorry. Nyx, did you apologize to the nice lady?”

You waved her off, giggling as you stood and twirled in your dress. “Actually, Nyx, I think this dress looks even more beautiful now with this extra splash of color.” 

The boy giggled, his mother ruffling his onyx locks as she set him down to run back to his painting station. “I really am sorry. I can fix that for you, or replace the dress,” Feyre insisted. 

You smiled at her, a true smile at her kindness - something you hadn’t realized how desperately you needed. Adjusting the ribbon in your hair, you shook your head. “Really, I like the splash of purple against the blue. I could use more color in my life,” you promised. 

Feyre seemed genuinely surprised and pleased by your reaction, her gaze flicking to your easel, where the latest portrait of those scarred hands rested. She looked around your station, taking in all of the paintings. Dozens of them were set around, and you suddenly found yourself bashful.

“May I ask about your paintings? They’re beautiful. You seem quite inspired by hands.” She spoke in a casual tone, but you had the sense that there was something more to her question. 

Nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you shifted your weight from one foot to another. “I struggled, for a long time... after the war.” You swallowed, a pregnant pause filling the air as she waited for you to continue. “I used to paint a lot, but I couldn’t bring myself to for a long time. Until a few weeks ago, I started dreaming of these hands.” 

Your gaze flicked to Feyre’s expecting confusion or judgment, but her gray-blue eyes sparkled as she nodded in understanding. You smiled slightly, continuing. “I felt as though I was too damaged to create like I used to, but these hands... It felt like a message from the Mother, or some other force, maybe. That even though I’ve experienced such darkness, I can still create light. That my darkness might even make my colors brighter.”

A small yelp escaped your lips as the High Lady pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you for sharing your story with me,” she murmured, her head dipped into your shoulder. Shakily, you dared your hands to move, reciprocating Feyre’s hug, and a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “How would you like to join me for some tea?”

You nodded, willing back the tears that threatened at the simple kindness. Feyre led the way out of the studio, Nyx taking your hand as he tugged you towards the tea shop, babbling about the hot chocolate he wanted. You giggled at the little boy, a loose curl falling in your eyes as he pulled you into a chair outside the cafe. “Uncle Azzy!” the child shouted, and you brushed the hair out of your eyes to find the most striking hazel ones staring back at you.

Something tightened in your chest at the sight of the striking Illyrian male in front of you, his golden-brown skin and dark features somehow familiar to you. His eyes fluttered for a moment, seemingly shocked by something before he caught his breath. 

“Um, pleased to meet you. I’m Azriel,” the name spilling like a song as he reached out to you in greeting. You looked down at the outstretched hand, a spark flaring in your chest at the sight of his scars. 

You gasped, grabbing his hand like a lifeline as you flipped it over, running your fingertips along the beautiful scars. Azriel was frozen in shock, unmoving as you gaped at his beauty, never releasing his hand as a tear fell down your cheek. Your eyes locked with his as you whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, an adorable blush creeping over his cheeks at your comment. A bell sounded from the side, drawing the two of you out of your moment. Eyes flicked to the door where Feyre stood with your drinks, a smirk on her face as she handed Nyx his hot chocolate. 

“I thought you two might hit it off,” the High Lady said through a bright smile. “Here, Az. I got you a tea too. Oh, and I forgot - Nyx, we have to go home. But the two of you should enjoy your drinks together!” With that, Feyre winnowed away and left you with the literal male of your dreams in front of you.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Azriel ran a hand through his wavy black hair as he looked down at your bright, paint-splattered dress. “So, you paint?” 

You laughed, that golden thread between you pulled taught at the sound. “I used to a lot more.” Glancing down at his hands, you smiled. “I’m just getting back into it.”

No, you would never be the person you were before. But as you stared at the shadows that swirled your mate - the darkness who brought you back to the light - you were proud of the person you were becoming.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel x reader fluff #acotar azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #azriel fluff #azriel angst #acotar fluff #acotar angst #feyre #feyre archeron #nyx archeron #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic

[dotster001]

The Queen Rises Again, a For Tuna End

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose another ending

You hadn't seen much of Vil, recently. And anytime you went to visit him in Pomefiore, he was always “busy” and refused to even open his door to you.

At first you had been frustrated, but you were starting to get worried. Rook and Epel had assured you everything was fine, Vil was just going through a phase of sorts, but that didn't ease your anxiety. For seven's sakes, what kind of “phase” could Vil Schoenheit be in?

It was on another evening that had you ruminating on this idea, that Grim sighed heavily next to you.

“Oh, Grimmy, when did you get in?”

He stared at you for a moment, before scowling. “I've been sitting here, sighing heavily, for ten minutes.”

“Oh, sorry bud. What's wrong?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

You stifled a groan. No one saying what was wrong with Vil was already weighing on you, the last thing you needed was another person to not tell you what was wrong. You weren't good at the guessing games.

“Grim, if you don't tell me, I won't know how to help you.”

“Don't get snippy with me! I'm in distrust!”

“Distress?”

“Exactly!”

He pouted, and crossed his tiny kitty arms, turning away from you with a “hmph”.

You steadied yourself, and forced a calm tone, gently scratching behind Grim's ears.

“What's wrong, bubbas?”

Grim sighed forlornly. “I've just been…thinking.”

You very much doubted that. That was the joke you'd have made if he wasn't so forlorn.

“About what?”

"About how I can't be everything you need.”

“Sorry?” You fought back a confused laugh.

“Look, I am the Great Grim! I bring joy and color to your life as the beloved roommate/son that you always longed for! But even I can't be everything a human needs…”

You quirked an eyebrow, and he scowled. “I can't give you romance. What I'm implying is that you're gonna die alone.”

“Ouch. Thanks Grim. Definitely could have said that nicer. But isn't the next thing you're supposed to say, “but you don't have to worry about being alone because I'll always be there for you?””

Grim looked at you like you were crazy. “My wife and ten children will be taking up all of my time.”

“Sure Grimmy. But I'm a big kid, I can take care of myself…”

“Sure, sure, I totally believe you. But what if…” he hesitated. “What if I had someone, who I knew was very in love with you, and was positive he could take care of you?”

You choked. “Sorry?”

“He's mad for you,  and I know if you asked him out, he'd say yes!”

“Lord, who would have a crush on me?”

Grim rolled his eyes, and muttered, “it's more likely than you think. Anyway!”

He pushed himself into your lap, cupping your cheeks. “Please Y/N. I'm worried about you, and I need to know that when I'm not with you, you will be okay.”

Your instinct was to say no. But when you looked into his eyes, he looked so sad and earnest, that you released a reluctant sigh, and agreed.

….

“Kay Grimmy, how do I look?”

He looked at the spot you were standing on the steps, and glared.

“Absolutely not. I told you this was a high fashion date.”

“Well, sorry, but this is all the high fashion I have! In case you forgot, we had to spend our entire monthly allowance to pay for a cleaning crew in the lab.”

“It'll have to do,” he sighed wistfully.

You heard a light knock on the door.

“He's here!” He scampered to the door, before looking back at you. “At least get a coat so he can't see the outfit.”

“If he likes me as much as you swear he does, it won't matter.”

Grim rolled his eyes and opened the door, to reveal…

….

Maybe it was just that you hadn't seen him in a long time, but something was different about the way Vil looked. 

“Apple blossom, if you keep staring, I'll get self conscious,” he mused as he delicately rolled some pasta on his fork. Your cheeks burned, and you looked down at your plate.

“I've just been worried about you, that's all.”

“I'm grateful for your concern,” he reached across the table and squeezed your hand, making your heart flutter.

“Have you started a new skin care routine? Your skin seems like it's glowing!” You quickly changed the subject.

“You have a sharp eye! I've been trying some new products, and I think it looks rather good.”

“Yeah…wait! I know what's different!” You sat up straight. “Your hair looks darker!”

He froze. “I don't think so…”

“It definitely looks a shade darker-”

“How about we split a slice of cake for dessert!” He said in a voice louder than you expected, but you nodded.

….

“Would you join me for a moment longer? I need to pick up something at Octavinelle.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He placed your hand in the crook of his arm, and escorted you to the lounge. As you entered, Floyd, Jade, and Azul all looked up, various looks of irritation and shock on their faces. 

“Wait here,” Vil whispered into your ear, and you gave him a nod as he walked over to Azul, who looked positively vexed. You watched him sigh heavily, then walk with Vil to the VIP room.

“So you and betta fish, huh?” A bitter voice asked in your ear, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The last time your eyes had been on the twins, they had been across the room. And now they were here.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Was it a pleasant evening?”

“You know what? Yeah, actually,” you said with a smile. Maybe it was that you'd been so worried about Vil, and now you'd finally gotten to see her was okay, but you had a great date. You hated to admit that Grim of all people would set you up with someone you enjoyed, and could sort of see a future with, but then again, he knew you better than anyone. Why wouldn't he put thought and effort into finding someone he knew you would love?

“Damn, really? Ugh,” Floyd groaned, slumping against you, nearly causing you to topple over.

“What Floyd means to say, is that if you ever feel he doesn't live up to expectations, or he ever steps out of line, please feel free to discuss it with us,” Jade said with a smile.

“Please, please, please tell us if that happens,” Floyd had buried himself into the crook of your neck, and was now squeezing you tightly.

“I got what I'm here for,” Vil's voice called to you, as he not so elegantly yanked Floyd off of you. With Floyd apart from you, he took your hands in his, and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Over his shoulder, you watched Azul waltz back into the VIP room, and slam the door behind him, with an echoing thud.

“You ready to go, Apple blossom?” Vil asked as though he hadn't just completely reset your brain. You nodded dumbly, and he escorted you out. Over your shoulder, you thought you heard a growl from the twins.

But you couldn't think much about that as you got intoxicated by Vil's warmth and perfume.

The End

Tag list- @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @savanaclaw1996 @happycatastrophesworld @murderisokayforme @kazumify @1fandom2many @hamhamlikesyukio @dreamlessnight

#for tuna #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit

[lecsainz]

Hey sweetie! Can I request something about prom proposal with Ollie Bearman?

I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you

pairings: ollie bearman x fem!gf!reader

summary: ollie does everything to invite you to prom in person and be able to go to prom with you.

authors note: I don't know if this is how you wanted it, but I thought and thought about how to make a prom proposal and nothing came to mind. I hope you like it 🙃

word count: 2.2K

Late one evening, as Ollie sat in his hotel room, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He picked it up to see Y/N's name flashing on the screen. With a smile, he answered the call, knowing that their conversations were always filled with excitement and joy.

"Hey, babe!" Y/N's voice bubbled with enthusiasm. "Guess what? I just bought the most amazing prom dress! It's this stunning gown that I know you'll love."

Ollie chuckled, grateful for the distraction from his racing worries. "That's fantastic, Y/N! I'm sure you'll look absolutely beautiful in it."

Y/N's excitement didn't wane. "And you know what else? I helped your mom pick out a matching tie for you! It perfectly complements the color of my dress. We'll be the most stylish couple at prom!"

Ollie's heart sank a little at her words. He knew he had to be honest with her. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "I have a testing session with the Prema team on the same day as the prom," he confessed, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I won't be able to make it."

Y/N's voice held a mix of sadness and understanding. "Ollie, I know how important racing is to you. It's your dream. I don't want you to give up on that just for me. If you have to go for the testing session, then go. I'll be okay."

Touched by her words, Ollie felt a pang of guilt. He wished he could be in two places at once, but his dedication to his racing career left him with a difficult choice.

"Y/N, I want you to enjoy your prom. It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and you deserve to have an amazing time," Ollie said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Maybe you could go with someone else, a close friend, so you won't have to miss out on the fun."

There was a long pause before Y/N replied, her voice soft but resolute. "Ollie, prom is not about just going with anyone. It's about creating memories with the person you love. And that person, for me, is you." Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, but she shook her head defiantly. "Ollie, I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you. It just wouldn't be the same."

Ollie felt a pang of guilt wash over him. He hated seeing Y/N upset, especially when it was because of his racing commitments. He knew he had to find a way to make it right, to be there for her on their special night.

With determination in his eyes, Ollie made a silent promise to himself. He would find a way to attend the prom and surprise Y/N, no matter the obstacles that stood in his path.

Over the next few days, Ollie worked tirelessly, speaking with his team and exploring every possible option. And finally, a glimmer of hope appeared. A solution presented itself, and Ollie seized the opportunity.

Ollie felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement as he stepped off the plane and into the airport terminal. His parents had been instrumental in helping him make this surprise visit to Y/N, despite the late hour. They had understood the depth of his love for her and the significance of being there for the prom.

As he made his way through customs, Ollie's parents greeted him with warm smiles and open arms. They had always been supportive of his racing career and understood the importance of love and relationships in his life.

"Son, we're so proud of you," his father said, placing a hand on Ollie's shoulder. "We know how much Y/N means to you, and we wanted to help make this surprise happen."

Ollie's mother added with a twinkle in her eye, "Oliver, you're lucky to have found someone who brings out the best in you."

As they drove through the quiet streets in the early hours of the morning, Ollie's anticipation grew. The love and support of his parents warmed his heart, and he couldn't wait to see the look of surprise and joy on Y/N's face.

He quietly entered the house, tiptoeing up the stairs to his bedroom. With a mix of excitement and relief, he reached for his phone and dialed Y/N's number. The phone rang, and he held his breath, hoping she would pick up.

"Hello?" she mumbled, her voice laced with sleep.

"Hey love," Ollie said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Could you do me a favor? Can you open your bedroom window?"

Confusion tinged Y/N's voice as she responded, "It's the middle of the night, Ollie. What's going on?"

"Just trust me, Y/N," Ollie said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Just look, please."

Curiosity piqued, Y/N dragged herself out of bed and walked to her bedroom window. She slowly pulled back the curtains, her eyes widening in disbelief as she saw Ollie standing in his own bedroom, gazing back at her.

A gasp escaped Y/N's lips, and she clutched her chest, unable to believe her eyes. "Ollie? Is that really you?"

Ollie smiled and nodded, his heart pounding with excitement. "Yes, it's me."

With a deep breath, Ollie mustered all his courage and poured his heart out. "Y/N, you mean everything to me. I can't imagine going to the prom with anyone else. Will you do me the honor of being my date? Will you go to the prom with me?" he asked, holding up a series of handwritten paper, with the word "PROM?" in a style reminiscent of the You Belong with Me music video.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears of joy as she read the message. Her heart swelled with love, and a radiant smile spread across her face. She nodded vigorously, unable to find her voice.

"Yes, Ollie!" she finally exclaimed, her voice filled with happiness. "A thousand times, yes!"

his face broke into a wide smile, relief and joy washing over him. He couldn't believe he had pulled off the surprise, and seeing Y/N's happiness made every effort worthwhile.

Y/N's voice filled with anticipation as she made a request. "Ollie, can you come down to the backyard? I want to be closer to you."

Ollie's heart skipped a beat at her suggestion. Without hesitation, he agreed. "Of course, Y/N. Give me a moment, I'll be right there."

He swiftly made his way downstairs, phone still in hand, and stepped into the cool night air. The moon cast a soft glow on the familiar surroundings as he walked towards the shared fence that separated their backyards.

With each step, the connection between them felt stronger, their voices still intertwined through the phone. Ollie's heart raced with excitement, knowing that he was about to see Y/N in person, even if it was just a few feet away.

As he reached the fence, he looked up and there she was, standing on the other side, a radiant smile adorning her face. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt as though time stood still.

Without a moment's hesitation, she ran towards Ollie, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Ollie caught her, a mixture of surprise and delight evident on his face.

She cupped Ollie's face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. And then, with all the love in her heart, she kissed him passionately, pouring all her emotions into that single moment.

Breathless, they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other. Y/N's eyes glistened with tears of joy and disbelief. "I can't believe you're here." she whispered, her voice filled with awe and overwhelming love

Ollie couldn't help but smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion. "Nothing could keep me away from you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice laced with sincerity. "I would move mountains, cross oceans, and defy all odds just to be with you."

He gently placed her back on the ground, their hands intertwined, never wanting to let go. Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude and affection, knowing that Ollie had gone to such extraordinary lengths to make her dreams come true.

Ollie carefully took out the corsage he had prepared and gently placed it on Y/N's wrist. The delicate flowers and handwritten notes intertwined, symbolizing the moments and thoughts they had shared while being apart. Y/N's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she noticed the tiny notes attached to the corsage.

"What are these, Ollie?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Ollie took a deep breath, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Every time we were apart, every race I competed in, I wrote a little note for you. They were my way of staying connected to you, of reminding myself of your love and support. Each note represents a moment I thought of you and carried your presence with me."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she gently untied one of the notes and read its contents. It was a heartfelt message expressing Ollie's love and admiration for her. She was overwhelmed by the depth of his affection and the effort he had put into expressing it.

"Ollie, this is so incredibly sweet," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I never knew you were doing this. It means the world to me, knowing that you carried me in your heart every step of the way."

Before they could delve deeper into their heartfelt conversation, the sound of footsteps approached. Y/N's father, having been awakened by their presence outside the house, stepped onto the porch with a mix of surprise and joy on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he chuckled, seeing Ollie standing with his daughter. "Ollie, my boy, I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Shouldn't you be in another country?"

Ollie's eyes widened, his surprise evident. He had known Y/N's father for a while, but this unexpected encounter left him momentarily speechless. However, Y/N's father quickly reassured him with a warm smile.

"Don't worry, Ollie. I'm thrilled to see you here," he said, patting Ollie on the back. "You're always welcome in our home. Why don't you both come inside and get some rest? It's been quite a night."

Y/N's face beamed with gratitude, her hand intertwined with Ollie's. "Thank you, Dad. We'll take you up on that offer."

As they entered the house together, hand in hand, Ollie couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and acceptance. Y/N's father's warm welcome reassured him that their love was supported by those who cared about them.

Inside the house, the warmth of Y/N's family enveloped them. Y/N's father, with a playful glint in his eye, turned to Ollie, feigning annoyance.

"Alright, you two lovebirds," he chuckled. "I'll let you off the hook this time, but remember, no funny business under my roof. Ollie, you're sleeping in the living room tonight."

Ollie grinned sheepishly, knowing Y/N's father was just being his protective, caring self. "Yes, sir," he replied, trying to suppress his laughter. "I promise, no funny business."

Y/N's father then added with a wink, "And don't think I won't be checking in on you."

They all shared a good-natured laugh, feeling the warmth of their shared connection. Y/N's father embraced Ollie like a son, and Ollie knew he was lucky to have such a loving and accepting family in his life.

As the night wore on, Ollie settled into the living room, feeling grateful for the opportunity to spend time with Y/N.

Y/N, unable to resist the desire to be close to Ollie, sat beside him on the couch. Ollie pulled her close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. They both sighed contentedly, relishing in the comfort of their embrace.

"I've missed spending nights like this with you," Ollie confessed, his voice filled with sincerity. "Being able to hold you, to feel your presence next to me, it's something I long for when we're apart."

Y/N's heart swelled with love, her fingers gently tracing patterns on Ollie's chest. "I've missed it too, Ollie. There's nothing quite like falling asleep in your arms. It feels like home."

As Ollie felt the gentle rise and fall of Y/N's breath against his chest, he couldn't help but smile. Her peaceful sleep in his arms filled his heart with love and gratitude. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

As the night deepened, Ollie leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Y/N's forehead, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. The soft touch of his lips against her skin conveyed a multitude of emotions that words alone could not express.

He whispered once again, his voice barely audible in the quiet room, “I love you, Y/N.” his words filled with tenderness and devotion. It was a declaration meant for her, a reminder of the depth of his feelings and the unwavering commitment he had for her.

Y/N stirred slightly in her sleep, sensing his affectionate gesture. A peaceful smile curved her lips as she snuggled closer to Ollie, finding solace in his embrace.

With a contented sigh, Ollie closed his eyes, cherishing the moment of pure serenity. In that intimate space, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace and happiness, knowing that he was sharing his life with someone who meant the world to him.

#f2 fanfic #f2 x you #f2 imagine #f2 fluff #f2 x reader #f2 fic #f2 x yn #ollie bearman x oc #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #ollie bearman fluff #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics

[strongheartneteyam]

Jealous Girl

♡ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!omatikaya!reader

CW: lots of fluff <3, angst (if you squint), funny and crazy vibes???! lol, reader is betrothed to Neteyam, madly-in-love-with-reader Neteyam, comfort, praising kink, tsaheylu is mentioned, a bit childish but adorable reader, young love, mentions of sex, dirty talk, mentions of sexual fluids, a couple so in love it's gross <33, mentions of getting someone pregnant, breeding kink

Na'vi words:

Yawntutsyìp: little loved one

Yawnetu: loved one

Hì'i syulang: small flower (not sure if it's correct but I put hì'i - small in size - and syulang - flower - together so... sorry if it's incorrect but I tried lol)

Not proofread.

♡ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

"I'm jealous of your Ikran, Teyam" you said while you watched Neteyam patting on his Ikran's back with affection, pouty lips making you look adorable, just like a small child who's a bit spoiled but still lovely towards everyone.

"What?!" He chuckled violently "Why, yawntutsyìp?" Neteyam asked you, not believing the words he had just heard "What the hell are you saying?!" He started to laugh hard

You frowned, still making him think you're the cutest thing to have ever walked on Pandora, since The First Songs. You were his betrothed, his future mate, only waiting for him to become the clan leader, so both your families would throw a big wedding party that would happen right after the Olo'eyktan ceremony, and you could finally make tsaheylu with Neteyam

"You're always bonding with your Ikran, Teyam. But you still haven't made tsaheylu with me." You protested, sounding a bit crazy.

Neteyam knew you were being unreasonable but still you looked so damn adorable in his eyes. He was head over heels for you.

"C'mon, hì’i syulang!" Neteyam exclaimed, laughing at your silliness "It's a totally different kind of tsaheylu!"'

"Even so... I feel jealous. He is... too lucky!" You frowned again, making Neteyam laugh, having so much fun with the situation.

He walked to you, held you close and tight by your waist, his grip on you so strong, it felt like there was glue bringing the both of you together.

"You're unbelievable." Neteyam had a big, cute smile adorning his plump, ocean colored lips. He stroked your hair delicately "My sweet, sweet jealous girl. My yawnetu." He kept chuckling

You looked deep into his wide yellow eyes "Promise me you wanna make tsaheylu with me as much as I want to make it with you?" You had the expression of a needy kitten who's asking to be pet

"You have no reason at all to doubt it. I'm as eager to make tsaheylu with you as you are. I can't wait until I can touch, kiss and feel all the parts of your perfect body, my princess." You started to feel your pussy getting wet, just by hearing him talk about it

Neteyam rubbed his big thumb on your cheek and you smiled, gazing at him with eyes so filled with joy it was almost too much to bear in your sensitive, anxious heart

"I'm going crazy too, you know?" His lips got close to your ear and whispered "When we finally make the bond and I finally make love to you... Eywa... you're gonna want me inside of you all day, all night, yawntutsyìp. 'Cause I'll fuck you so good. And I won't let you leave my hammock for days, my darling. You'll be there to satisfy all my needs and lemme pleasure you until I know for sure you're carrying my baby inside your womb. Only then I'll give you a break. A very short one."

Neteyam's lips slowly touched yours. It was a calm but incredibly passionate kind of kiss. He rubbed his tongue on yours over and over and, after some time spent like that, he used his soft lips to suck on your tongue. Neteyam gave you multiple wet, delicate pecks too. All of that made lewd sounds echoe through the fresh forest air surrounding your filled with heat bodies.

#neteyam x you #neteyam fluff #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x female reader #neteyam comfort #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x omatikaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow neteyam #avatar neteyam #neteyam suli #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully smut #neteyam smut #kxamtxomaw writes

[creedslove]

omg, i have a request for joel! (pre-outbreak)

so, he takes sarah to a birthday party or whatever, sarah is young, like 5-6 years old and you are the girl who does face painting and fake tattoos and those kind of things in birthday parties.

you paint a small butterfly on sarah’s cheek and then she brings joel to you so you can paint his face also, you fall in love with each other and so! 🦋

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: this is too cute anon, 🥺 🦋

• Joel loved taking Sarah to birthday parties because he loved the absolute joy in her face at all times

• he wasn't much of kids birthday parties himself, but he would do anything in order to have his little girl happy so he made sure to take her to all of the parties she was invited to

• you started to work at kids birthday parties when the money got short, it wasn't your ideal job, but it turned out to be nicer than you initially thought

• the kids were fun, the job was easy, the money wasn't a lot but it was enough and you could always have all the party snacks you wanted

• that particular sunny saturday afternoon wasn't any different, you had already painted many little faces and each time their eyes widened in happiness and excitement it made your heart melt

• Sarah went absolutely crazy the moment she spotted the face painting part, as she always loved butterflies and wanted lots of it on her skin

• Joel shared a beer with the other dads while he let his daughter run freely and have her fun

"can I have a butterfly please?"

• she grinned adorably at you, being such a polite and sweet girl, making your heart melt at how absolutely adorable she was

• she behaved perfectly during the entire time you painted her face

• and she stood in line so many times too, wanting face painting, and also a painting on her little hands and arms, and by the time Joel saw his daughter she was full of glitter

"daddy, come meet the nice painting lady"

• she said very sweetly and dragged Joel by his hand, thinking that maybe he would like a painting too

• Joel very often didn't resist how sweet his Sarah was, but when he saw you, he was too shy to let you paint him, there was no way he was letting you do it as you were such a beautiful woman and he was a grown man

• you just chuckled and made some small talk with the man, he was undeniably handsome and he was such a nice dad

• when Sarah made puppy eyes while asking his permission to add glitter and hair spray to her hair and he couldn't say no

• so you made sure to style a real nice hairstyle for her, colorful and full of glitter and she played happily some more

• and Joel decided to hang out some more with you, he was enjoying your pleasant talk so much he let her play until the final minutes of the party

• by the time she rushed to you, Joel sighed at the hard work he knew it would be removing that spray and glitter from her hair, but you offered him to help, by washing her hair right there

• he was surprised but agreed and you asked her to sit down, washing her beautiful curls with warm water, massaging her scalp and patiently removing all of it with a comb, and soon enough Sarah's hair was cleaned up

• she really enjoyed how soft and nice you'd been and gave you a tight hug in gratitude

• and right before Joel left, he went back to you, asking if you would like to go out for drinks or something with him

• you said yes, because there was no way someone wouldn't be interested in Joel

• and you went on a date out of many others that would come for the two of you

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

[killuagirly]

Hi <3 how about yandere freminet with fem reader who's always in a wheelchair, how would freminet try and court them especialy since there oblivious and don't believe anyone would like that way because of them being very week to the point they cant walk for long

Yandere Freminet x F!Reader

Summary: Freminet was obsessed with you, it couldn't get more obvious than that. But somehow, you still managed to remain oblivious to his methods of trying to grab your attention.

Notes: Apologies if I got this request wrong at all. Since I don't suffer from insecurities like this myself, it's a little harder to imagine to situation from the reader's perspective into detail!! D: [Also I really want to write actual yandere situations rather than just obsession, but then I also feel bad for the reader? Like how am I supposed to kill off most everyone you interact with and still comfort you??"

CW: Yandere, Obsessive tendencies, Insecurities, Reader is weak[in a wheelchair], Stalking, etc. Read at your own risk!

═══════════ ☾ ═══════════

Freminet

☆ You were just like any other average girl, except for the small inconvenience that you were bound to a wheelchair. Because of your situation, you begin to believe that it was near impossible for someone to be genuinely attracted to you. If only your oblivious mind had noticed Freminet's desperate attempts and romantic gestures to grab you interest.

☆ It got to the point where he began thinking outside of the box; instead of bringing you things from his diving travels and complimenting you constantly, he started to watch over you. He had a little notepad full of every little thing you liked. From your favorite color to your most worn pair of socks, he knew it all. He also knew you might get annoyed if he was following you around like a lost puppy all the time, so he took to observing in your footprint, always just out of your sightline.

☆ Still even with his best efforts, he just couldn't manage to get you to understand what he was trying to hint. You thanked him for all his gifts, compliments, and efforts to take notice of your interests; even though you didn't know the extents he was going to, but you just seemed to brush of any attempts of his obsessively obvious flirting.

☆ Maybe you didn't reciprocate his feelings for you, or maybe he was doing it all wrong. But in reality, you just couldn't come to terms with the fact someone may be romantically interested in you. From a glance, you believed nobody would even take joy in your company at all, not to mention that your dear friend Freminet could have much better opportunities and ways to spend his time.

☆ This time tough, he would make it different. Freminet's heart was racing, begging him not to go through with this. What if he ruined your friendship? At this point, he couldn't live without you but kidnapping you if he failed would be cruel. He had to force his overflowing thoughts to halt, and plead his feet to move toward you.

☆ "So [Name], I was wondering if we could talk for a bit. It's serious." The timid diver's voice shook as he spoke, he contemplated if this was just a mistake; too late to go back now though. "Yeah of course, anything you need?" You looked up at him from your accustomed seat in your wheelchair with a wondering gaze. With that, everything fell from his lips at once.

☆ "I've been trying really hard to get your attention. [Name] I really, really like you, actually, I love you. It's completely fine if you don't feel the same but I just.." The blonde went on and on about all the things he loved about you. Your physical attributes, your tastes, he managed to even bring up habits you didn't even know you possessed yourself. You sat there, stunned while he confessed his entire heart to you. Really, you felt the same. You just had a habit of forcing those thoughts down in fear that he wouldn't feel the same. In your view, who would anyway??

☆ Well, Freminet would. Once his endearing voice came to a slow stop with nervousness written all over his features, he looked at your starstruck face searching for an answer. "Freminet.. I...." how could you even respond to that? Do you tell him you feel the same way?? "If you don't feel the same we can still be friends..!!" He said, panicked that he made you uncomfortable. "Yes..?" You said not even really knowing id that made sense. "What....??"

☆ "I, uhmm.. Yes, I feel the same way about you." A look of shock followed by pure bliss came from the boy. He instantly bent over to wrap his arms around your fragile figure making note not to injure you, and planted a kiss on your cheek. "Thank you so much [Name].." He spoke just barely above a whisper. "I'll love you forever."

═══════════ ☾ ═══════════

Masterlist

#KilluaGirly #Genshin Impact #Yandere #Freminet #Anon #Yandere Freminet #Yandere Genshin Impact #Yandere Genshin x Reader #Freminet x Reader #Yandere x Reader #Genshin Impact x Reader #Fem!Reader

[kitixie]

Unknown / Nth (T.S.)

hey y’all! this is just a little one shot inspired by the new hozier song, unknown / nth. i highly highly recommend!!

word count: 1.2k

warnings: this is SAD. like, sad sad.

A marriage to Tommy Shelby was not for the faint of heart. He was a liar, a secret keeper, a killer. He was many things a man should not be. But God, did you love him. He hung your moon and stars, he was the rising and setting sun, and your world revolved around him. He was it for you, and you thought you were it for him too.

Until Grace.

Until Grace came along, and Tommy started staying out late, saying things that your Tommy never would have said to you. He became hateful, cold, and distant towards you. Instead of being the sun, he was now the darkness. The kind that swept in at night and stole all signs of happiness and joy, the kind that pillaged until you begged for a shred of the man you knew to come back. It’s funny how true colors shine in darkness.

By the time Tommy began to change, you were in deep. With him, with the Shelbys, with all of it. You and Tommy had experienced things that would bring most couples together. You had felt the loss of two children inside your womb, and Tommy had been there for all of it. You had felt the death of your father, yet he had stayed constant. You moved homes, you survived fights, you survived wars. You survived. Maybe that was the issue, you were just surviving. How long could you act like he wasn’t becoming someone you didn’t recognize? How long could you last, when every night he came home smelling like her, your heart cracked?

“Thomas?” You called, hearing the front door shut.

“Yeah, Y/N, ‘ts just me,” he responded blandly.

You could hear footsteps, but they sounded like they were stumbling. He was drunk, once again, which meant he would come into your shared room bearing the scent of Grace, once again.

You watched him as he footed his way through the bedroom door, tripping over things that weren’t there.

“Thomas, are you drunk? This is the third night this week, and it’s only Wednesday.”

“And what if I am, Y/N? Who cares?” He spat, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I care, Tommy. I care,” you let out in a whisper, a tear slipping from your eye.

You had set a rule for yourself when he first started going out. No crying in front of Thomas, especially not over things that Thomas did. If he saw you cry, he’d work his way in, feeding off your emotions like a succubus. You couldn’t let him do that, you had to keep him at an arms length, especially right now. Your heart ached for him, for its home inside of his hands. More than anything, you wanted to tear out the dreadful thing and hand over to him, let him fully destroy it. It had always belonged to him, ever since you were school children. The Tommy you had grown up knowing, the one you had dated since you were 16, the one you had married, was gone. He no longer existed, yet his body stood in front of you. It was cruel thing, to be married and chained to someone like that. To be bound by so much trauma and grief and love, yet to know they are not the same person who shared those feelings with you. To feel so close, yet be reminded that you are so far away by the cheap perfume and lipstick smeared on his shirt collar.

“What are you crying ‘bout, Y/N? You’ve nothin’ to be sad about.” He spoke, not having compassion, but annoyance.

A million feelings boiled in your chest. Anger, grief, passion, pride. But the one that was leading them all, the one that ruled every word about to come from your mouth, was love.

“I’m crying because I miss you, Tommy. I miss you, and you’re off doing God knows what with that bar keep, Grace. I can’t stand it, Tommy. To see her have what’s mine. Do you know what it feels like to be inside my body? Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness and love I still carry for you?”, you screamed, letting the feelings flow like a free river, “I feel like I’ve been caged, Thomas. I feel like I’ve been banished to a room, only able to watch our lives through glass panes. I can’t touch you, I can’t hold you, I can barely speak to you. But I love you, God I love you Thomas. I wish you knew what it was like.”

You had stood from your seat on the bed, letting your hair fall around you as you sunk to the floor. Your hand cradled your face, drying your own tears. You had always been able to be alone, always being fine when Tommy had to go away for a while. But this time, you couldn’t tell if Tommy would ever come back, not really. He was totally different.

Tommy stared at you, a blank look on his face as he observed your crumpled form. Your shoulders shook, and you let heaving sobs fall from your mouth. Was it worth it to stay here? To let this love you had once known control everything you could ever know? How would the two of you fair this storm? How would you not only survive, but come out thriving? Was it worth the weight of carrying this burden, of knowing that Tommy was disloyal?

“I don’t know what to do, Love. I’m lost.” He finally spoke, his voice coming out a whisper.

“Tommy, I would cross the earth for you. I would walk so far to take the injury of knowing you. I just need you to reach out a hand for me. I would give you everything, and you know that, you have to know that.”

He had to know.

“I know, Y/N, I know. I’m sorry, Love, for how I’ve been acting.”

-

Tommy had agreed to some counseling after your breakdown, and not much had changed. He still came home smelling like her, kept staying out, just now he went on weekends and swore it was with his brothers. He kept trying to trick you, and he truly thought he was getting away with it.

Not anymore. Now, as you stood in your bedroom, stuffing clothing into a small suitcase, no tears were in your eyes. No feelings were in your heart except anger and betrayal. Once again, you heard the stumbling footsteps of Tommy Shelby. You had become used to the sounds by now, being able to accurately tell that it was him and where he was on the staircase.

He finally entered your room, a look of shock crossing his face.

“Y/N, what are ya doin’?” He slurred. Typical.

“I’m leaving, Thomas. I’m leaving Birmingham, and I’m leaving you.” You said, keeping a calm tone.

“No, ya aren’t. You’re my wife.” He grumbled, sharpening his words.

“Thomas, I don’t want to be your wife. I won’t lay with you while your with her.” You zipped the suitcase.

“What the ‘ell are ya talkin’ about! You don’t know anythin’!” He screamed, his face redding.

You kept calm. You had already had this fight in your head a thousand times.

“I am leaving, Thomas. I gave you my heart, and now I see it’s pieces stuck in your teeth. I am done.”

You gathered your suitcase, and left the home you had built together, finally finished with trying to know and understand Tommy Shelby. There are some people who are better unknown.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby #kitixiewrites

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

These Nimona headcanons are dedicated to the people who keep asking me how I come up with them (short answer: I have no fucking clue)

While Ambrosius is the one to keep the house clean Bal is the only reason their schedules are even somewhat put together 

This man has multiple calendars one physical calendar in their living room

A digital one for just him that’s dedicated to things that he knows the duo would be bored by 

And a digital calendar for the trio themselves which is his pride and fucking joy 

His baby a digital miracle and what he genuinely considers to be his magnum opus 

Because Ambrosius and Nimona are the hardest people to organize schedules with

Every conversation with them would go something like this “Hey what are you doing next week” “Oh I’m going to work” “Okay do you know what time you have to head in” *shrugs* “Do you know if you have days off” *shrugs again* “do you even know what days you’re going in” *shrugs one last time*

And then Bal would have to walk away because he was really to commit a crime 

No one knows how he actually got their schedules 

Nimona doesn’t know how Bal scheduled plans for them when he didn’t have their friend's contact info

It scares Ambrosius how Bal’s able to fit is incredibly hectic days in nice neat color coordinated boxes 

The duo doesn’t ask questions and they don’t fuck with the schedule 

They just follow it cause it’s always right 

Which is kind of horrifying 

There is one chore in the house that not even the resident clean freak (my baby golden boy) likes 

And that’s washing the dishes 

Not a singular person in that house will ever do the dishes without complaining even a little bit 

They always take turns and it’s always a lose-lose situation 

Because even though there’s this feeling of “dodged that bullet today” they’re also a little guilty because they know the person doing it hates it just as much 

They bought dish gloves because that slightly helped the problem 

But those things tear like it’s no one’s business which is the fucking worst 

One time Bal walked into the kitchen to see Ambrosius crying over the dishes 

He asked what’s wrong and all he had to say was “glove” 

And Bal knew what he meant because Ambrosius swears that having wet rubber rub up against your skin is almost as bad as touching the bare dishes 

Every time Ambrosius or Bal have to leave for more than a couple of days the other will joke that they're a single father 

Anytime someone checks in on them they’ll say something like “The life of a single parent is hard but fulfilling” 

This basically just translates to them missing their spouse so could someone please bring them back as soon as possible 

Nimona always jokes they’re a child of divorce when the boys make that joke 

The jokes range from “Being a child of divorce is so stressful” to “Good riddance I never liked him anyway” 

Mind you those remarks come after Nimona hung off their legs as they walked out the door 

One time when Bal went on a solo trip Nimona asked Ambrosius to go to the park with him 

He didn’t question it just packed up the car and drove them to the nearest park

And he swears he only took his eyes off Nimona for a minute and when he turned back around he saw a group of sad-looking kids and adults crowding around a kid 

And he instantly knew where he went 

He watched in horror as Nimona pointed up to the sky and said “Dad!” a mom asked with a sad voice “Is your dad a pilot sweety?” to which Nimona responded with “No but Papa says he’s in the sky somewhere which is why he never visits” 

He just scooped her up apologizing while making a run for the car 

A lot of parents were very concerned about why the kingdom’s golden boy just snatched a random child they’d never seen before and will never see again

And they genuinely debate on calling the knights while Ambrosius fireman carries this cackling child away

They do and Ambrosius has to have a very awkward conversation with his old coworkers

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #If someone ask why they dont use the dishwasher I'll know they're white #Asian people don't believe in dishwashers #And if I do use the dishwasher it's after I've already washed the dishes #you call it impractical #I call it clean

[feyhunter78]

The Despair of a Dragon's Wife

Description: After the birth of you and Aemond's son, you fall into a deep despair and rumors begin to fly regarding your son's parentage.

This was requested on my AO3 and I wanted to post it here as well! TW: Postpartum depression, suicidal thoughts and actions, but no death or injury

You loved your son, you truly did, but the sight of him reminded you of the pain you suffered, and his cries were like nails driven into your brain, reminding you of how much of a failure you were. His hair was (y/h/c) not silver and his eyes were a shade of purple that could easily be mistaken for blue, worst of all his dragon egg had yet to hatch.

You knew your sweet Rhagar simply wished to be with you, to feel your love, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hold him for more than a few minutes. Your mind constantly reminding you that he was not as Targaryen as the others, he would suffer the mistreatment bastards do, even though he is his father’s son. You have failed him, failed your family, and failed Aemond.

Aemond had been so excited for your child, speaking constantly of them, making you promise after promise of what he would provide for you both. Then, once the midwives announced you had birthed a son, he broke into joyous laughter, surprising even his own mother.

But then you were handed your son and saw the tuft of (y/h/c) hair, the muddled color of his eyes, and you knew you had failed. You had wept, and refused to be consoled, claiming they were tears of joy.

Breastfeeding was a struggle and after many attempts and gritted teeth you surrendered Rhagar to a wetnurse, tears in your eyes as you watched him calm so quickly for her. Nothing you did was ever enough for your son, he cried constantly, pulled at your hair, squirmed nonstop and refused to sleep through the night.

Your mother had stressed the importance of keeping your babe with you at night, especially since you had now birthed a potential heir to the throne. She worried someone would harm him, and you worried that perhaps that person would be you.

Sleep had fled from you, your appetite as well, music was dull and lifeless, sewing and reading no longer brought you joy. Weeks went by of you lying awake as Rhagar tossed and turned. Then it turned into months of you staring listlessly at the wall as you bounced him in your arms, silently begging him to cease his crying.

Oddly enough, it was your sworn sword, Ser Halbret, who was able to dry the tears of your son.

After hours of trying to calm your son, on the verge of tears yourself, you handed the screaming child off to him, and drifted back to your chambers. You curled up into a ball under the covers of your bed, crying silently, heart weighed down with endless misery.

You’d finally been able to drift off to sleep when the door to your chamber opened and the sound of giggling was followed by your husband’s voice.

“My sweet wife, I have found our little dragon.” Aemond called, voice light as he stepped closer to the bed.

You quickly wiped your tears, and tried to force a smile, but the sound of Rhagar calling out to you made another wave surface. You threw off the covers and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

Aemond knocked on the door. “Y/N, are you alright? Rhagar wishes to see you.”

You slumped against the door; head buried in your arms. “Give me a moment, my stomach is a bit unsettled.”

Rhaegar began to cry, and you heard Aemond gently reassure him that you would be out soon.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes searched the room for something, anything to end your agony, but you found nothing. “If you cannot get him to stop, give him to Ser Halbret, he loves him.” You called through the door.

“Surely not more than he loves his mother.” Aemond said, trying the doorknob once more, concern tainting his voice.

“He does not love me.” You mumbled, tears streaming down your face as you dug your nails into your palms, searching for relief from the aching in your head and chest.

“Y/N, my sweet, open the door.” He insisted, as Rhagar’s cries grew in volume.

“Go away.” You cried, slamming your hand against the door, red streaks coloring the wood. You’d pressed too hard and punctured the skin.

You stared at the smeared crimson blood and prayed Aemond would leave.

Aemond carried his son to his mother’s quarters, mind clouded with worry. You had been distant as of late, and your figure had begun to decrease a worrying amount.

At first, he thought you were too wrapped up in your son to eat properly. Then he noticed how you flinched when Rhagar cried, or how you were so quick to hand him off to your sworn sword, and flee the room.

His mother looked up, a bright smile on her face. “Aemond, and little Rhaegar, what a wonderful surprise. I was just speaking with your grandsire about our worries for y/n.”

Aemond sat across from his grandsire, keeping Rhagar firmly in his arms. “I have come to see you for the same reason, I fear she is ill.”

“The only thing she is sick with, is guilt.” His grandsire said, casting a disgusted look at Rhagar.

“Guilt?” He echoed, searching his mind for anything you might feel guilty over. You had borne him a beautiful and sweet-tempered son, were a devoted and wonderful wife, and a dedicated mother. There was no reason for you to feel guilty.

Alicent took his hand in hers, her expression sorrowful. “Your grandsire believes that…” She trailed off, her lips pressed into a hard line. “I cannot say it.”

“That boy is a bastard. Look at him, that is no Targaryen.” Otto said harshly.

His mother flinched and Aemond held his son closer.

“That is not possible. I took her maidenhood, I have been the only one in her bed, and she is a faithful wife. Rhagar is mine.”

“Perhaps you were the only one in her bed, but that does not mean she was not warming the beds of others.”

Aemond stared down at his son. True, his coloring was not that of a typical Targaryen, but they shared a nose, a smile, even the way Rhagar looked at dragons was the way he himself looked at them.

“I do not wish to believe it either, but many have seen the way she thrusts the child into the arms of Ser Halbret, and his coloring matches the boy’s.” His mother said, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“It matches y/n’s as well.” He argued, furious that they would even suggest such a betrayal coming from you.

His grandsire laid his hands flat on the table. “Ask her then, ask her why she does not seem to care for the child, why she pushes him onto everyone else.”

His mother’s eyes flickered to the tabletop, and Aemond nodded stiffly.

He held Rhagar close as he stormed back to your shared quarters, throwing the door open to find you standing on the windowsill, one hand loosely gripping the frame, the wind whipping through your hair.

Aemond called out to you in shock, and you turned, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “I cannot bear this any longer.” You sobbed, your head dropping to your chest.

Aemond quickly but carefully set your son down on the floor and rushed over to you, pulling you away from the window. “Y/N what are you doing? Have you gone mad?”

You shook your head, sobs ripping from your throat. “I hate him, I hate him, and I hate myself for it.”

Aemond pulled you into his embrace, crushing you to his chest. “I do not understand, where does this hatred come from?”

“I am a horrible wife; he is living proof of my failure.” You sobbed, hiding your face in Aemond’s chest.

“So, it is true, then? He is not mine.” Aemond said coldly.

You looked up at him in confusion. “What? How could you say that?”

“You said he is proof of your failures, your failure to stay faithful.”

You shook your head, crying harder. “No, no, he is my failure to give you a child that bears your coloring, he looks as if he belongs in the Riverlands.”

Aemond’s racing heart slowed, and he cupped your face. “I care not if he looks true to my blood, neither I nor my siblings look like my mother, yet no one doubts we are hers.”

“But the Strongs…” You argued weakly. The treatment they received was one you feared your son would receive as well.

Aemond brushed away your tears. “Everyone knew they were bastards, but Rhagar shares my nose, my smile, and soon he will have a dragon. No one will doubt him.”

“How can you be sure?” You asked, eyes darting over to your son, who was sitting on the rug near the fireplace.

“Because I will cut down any who do. I know he is my son, I know you have been faithful, as have I.” He gently swayed you back and forth, drawing your eyes back to him. “I did not break off my betrothal and anger my entire family to marry a woman I do not trust.”

You sniffled and laid your head back on his chest. “I have failed you; I know it, you need not spare my feelings.”

“You have not failed me. You have given me a perfect child, a son, an heir.” He said firmly, wishing he could make you understand how highly he held you in his heart.

Your shoulders were still shaking, but you’d begun to calm. “He hates me Aemond, I can never cease his crying.”

He kissed your forehead gently, and held you tighter. “He is a babe, and he can sense your unhappiness, he has been crying for you, and it is I who have failed you both. I should have recognized your suffering long before today. It should not have fallen to our son to alert me to your despair.”

A cracking sound filled the room and both your heads whipped towards the fireplace.

Your son sat giggling happily with a tiny dragon in his lap.

Aemond left your side and scooped them both up, carrying them over to you. “Look at what you have created, what you have given me.”

Rhagar reached out for you, babbling “mama, mama” as the small green dragon curled up on his shoulders.

You let Rhagar take as much of your hand as he could hold and smiled.

He smiled back at you, and clumsily kissed your hand, as he had seen his father do countless times. It was more of him bumping your hand with his nose, but it made you laugh, and the tightness in your chest eased.

Perhaps you could do this.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #wife!reader #meg's writing #hotd #hotd fanfics #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #prince aemond x reader #aemond angst

[bewarethewolfarmy]

Music To Bring Us Together

(This one was on my mind for a while (yes a certain fic of mine has a twin of sorts to this...) sooo yeah it just took a while to write it actually up.

If anyone wants a steamy followup to this particular chapter then say so and maybe i'll gather my spoons Oh and I've decided to call this kind of series The Phantom and his Songbird so enjoy:

A Celebration for Two

Things Better Left Unshared )

If asked separately both Erik's and your answer to what your favorite time of the week was, it would be the same: it was when you had the chance to get away from everything at the opera and had time to go spend the night with the lonely ghost that lived below the operahouse. He lived for those times, unable to stand the fact that he still could not simply always be with his beloved, to hold and shower you in affection and attention constantly, but he had even in small bits learned his lesson from before and he would not dare do anything that could even possibly make him lose you. He would wait, impatiently, and watch and admire you from afar despite wanting to do so far more personally, and when the time came he'd appear and whisk you away and the smile you'd wear on your face would send his heart a flutter to think that there really was someone who enjoyed his company and didn't fear his face. Could he truly believe it? Of course not, he still expected some trick, some lie or deceit of how this was not real, could not be real, and that you truly did fear and hate him for all he was, had done and could be. The gentleness of your tone and kiss to try and reassure him calmed the voices within for a time but never enough; he needed you by his side always and how you wished you could be but you did love the Opera Populaire for what it was and could be, almost as much as you loved it's resident Phantom.

Today was one such day; a break in rehearsals and you slipped away to that small side room, knowing that any second the secret passage would open and Erik would appear. You could always go down yourself, how many times had you walked it to the being able to do so in your sleep if necessary, but you knew how much the man loved to be able to whisk you away and who were you to ruin that for him? The Phantom, still spoken of in terrified whispers and hunted by those who knew and remembered, had so few joys as far as you could tell, things that truly could bring him happiness and peace in his admittedly lonely existence; to take this one away was far too cruel to you and thus you would not. Part of you wished instead that you could do more.

You had only been waiting for a fraction of time when there came the familiar sound of the hidden doorway opening and familiar touch upon your hand. Some days he grabbed you so fast and hard you could practically taste his desperation and need for closeness but this was not one of those days. His touch was light, almost hesitant, and you knew exactly what to do: you smiled and moved your hand to entwine your fingers in his, your tone soft and happy as you spoke, “Erik.”

“Songbird,” he responded and you were pulled close into a tight hug; you were surrounded by the scent of roses and old paper, ivory and water and wood.

And yarn; you could feel a familiar scarf against your face and could not help but smile brighter. Since you'd given it to him for your shared birthday he become stuck between wanting to constantly wear it and treating it like some precious treasure bestowed upon him by a god. Which you supposed made some sense considering his feelings about you. You of course were happiest seeing him wear it, able to see him enjoying your little present and know you had done well in making it for him. It added a little color to his darkness, a light for the man sometimes lost to the shadows but a man who nevertheless you loved dearly.

“Shall we go down to the lair now?” As much as you loved being in his arms, and you truly did, the secrecy of his hideaway under the operahouse gave you both the space and ability to do more than this small room ever could.

The fact you would ask brought a shiver of delight to him and a smile to those ruined lips of his. It was like a puppy being offered a walk in the park by it's master, an apt enough comparison considering how he reacted to you. Luckily you liked that in him, the excitement he seemed to get from the acceptance you gave and the lack of fear you had for him.

He moved with the swiftness and ease of exactly what he was and the two of you were soon off, practically gliding over steps to go down, down, down deep below, into catacombs, into an abyss lit only by candlelight, past traps that were sent not to harm you but to prevent any from following, to an all too familiar lake. You settled into your seat upon the boat and watched him, unable to resist a smile at how he looked as he rowed you both across.

Once, near the beginning of this love you had found yourself in, you had offered to help only to see the strangest look of shock to cross his face. He had refused so verehemently you at first had been hurt before it had come out that rather he couldn't imagine making you do such a thing, that it was in his mind only right he do so for you and that you need only relax. The fact you had been hurt by his refusal even for a second had left him devestated in such a way that required quite a bit of cuddling and hair stroking and reassurance. It was one of those things you found both funny and adorable about Erik: he, the Phantom, terror of the Opera Populaire, murderer and genius, could be so full of confidence and self-importance yet so easily fall to the deeps of despair and terror with the simplicity of love. The complexity of his character was fascinating and endearing, making you unable to tear your eyes away at times when the layers started to show.

The trip across was like that, full of you watching him, adoring his figure as again he looked more the imposing Phantom than the lovesick puppy, though every time he caught you staring with your adoring gaze, his face turned red behind his mask and you only continued to smile knowing it. His eyes would widen, it was hard to miss as someone who so often looked at him, watched him. He brought you to shore without a word though you were sure his mind had a thousand and one things he wished to say to you, sing to you, beg of you.

Erik stepped out first and like the gentleman he really was he offered his hand to help you step out of the boat. This too was something you could do on your own, as easily remembered as every other step of this trip, and again it was something you would never try to take from your phantom. You placed your hand in his and saw him smile so brightly and happily; you stepped off the boat and into his arms once more. Any chance he had he seemed to take in hugging you, holding you, as if afraid that if he didn't keep doing it you might prove to be an illusion, a dream he conjured up from nothing to replace the dark and painful memories of his love for Christine Daae. You of course were indeed real and warm and loved him even knowing what had happened, what he had done. Because behind the rumors and stories and fears, you had found a man who was desperate for love yet never knew how quite to get it or give it healthily.

After he seemed convinced for the moment that you did care and would be going nowhere, Erik led you into the house proper and you sat in the sitting room, watching as he went back to being the adorable Erik that you knew and adored. His fluttering around, muttering about how best to please you, what he would do for you, what kind of food he should make, what kind of music he should play. Part of you was half tempted to tell him to just sit down with you so you could cuddle for a while; he always seemed to like that as did you, though if it went on for too long he would start to cry and weep about how he was not worthy of such softness, of how he was a monster and you were a sweet songbird, that he was something even his own mother could not love so how could you? You did not mind reassuring him of course, it was normal enough for you both at this point and being able to give your sweet traumatized Erik some love and reassurance was something you were happy to be able to do. But tonight, tonight you wished for something different.

You smiled as he made another pass across your path and you spoke up, making sure to be heard, “Erik, I do have a request.”

This immediately stopped him in his tracks and he turned to you, wide eyed, before falling to his knees before you. Requests from you were rather rare; you did not often ask much of him, because he always had hundreds of ideas and plans, because you knew he liked having some control in his life and this was an easy one, because you did not like to impose or possibly trouble him. But he jumped at any request you did make and fumbled to take your hands in his, staring right into your soul it seemed.

“Your Erik is listening, anything my songbird wants, I will give you; just ask and it will be done.” He didn't slip entirely into third person which was a good thing in your book; his emotions sometimes got so overwhelming he couldn't help it and you didn't mind but you didn't want to overwhelm him today.

You squeezed his hands with another smile. “I wish for you to teach me to play something”

He seemed taken aback, blinking a few times and staring at you in confusion. But of course, you were a songbird, a singer, and that was all you truly really ever asked to be; you liked to be part of the choir, to let the music fill your lungs and fill the air. You'd never before expressed an interest in learning more than that but you had listened to him play so many instruments, he loved to show off to you like a peacock shows off it's feathers to a potential mate, and you found yourself curious to try. No, you were more curious to be able to try to play alongside him one day; you may never reach the level of a natural talent like his but you wanted to at least try.

“You...you wish to learn an instrument?” He asked his words slow and measured.

You nodded and he let go of you so quick you felt you might get whiplash. Especially as he quickly ran from the room like his cloak was on fire. The speed with which he moved, grabbing case after case from another room and placing them all on the coffee table before you was honestly both a bit shocking and very amusing. You had a pile of them soon enough, of slightly different sizes and shapes, but you recognized them all as instrument cases; you tried not to giggle or laugh as he continued this until you had so many to choose from it was a bit silly. And finally he stood still, breathing hard and looking at you expectedly, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement and energy.

“Which would you like, songbird? Your Erik can you teach any instrument, Erik is very good at all of them, Erik is a master of them and Erik would love to be able to teach you, just please tell Erik which you want please please please?” Oh no now he was completely into third person.

You stood up and gently took his face in his hands, careful not to upset his mask since it would help him ground a bit better. “Breathe, my angel, please. I already know which instrument I want to play but if you're going to teach me then I need you to breathe and not panic so, alright?”

He whimpered, a good whimper, maybe too good of one; he shuffled on his feet and closed his eyes at your touch before nodding. You would take it and smiled before kissing him lightly upon the lips. It was hard to resist such a good boy.

“Which...which one does...do you want Er...me to teach you?” he asked, trying his hardest to pull himself together, you could see it; he bit his lip and looked at you with such expectation and love it made your heart flutter. How could one man be so precious and so adorable and so dangerous all at once?

You smiled again and pulled away from him, the whine he gave was not a happy one but he did not hold you back; you leaned down to the table and gently pulled from it one case in particular, opening it to reveal a beautifully crafted violin. His eyes widened at your choice and you did not need to ask to know why; you had heard all the stories, all the legends. Knew that Christine Daae's father was a known violinist, that Erik had once used that knowledge and that violin to try to entrance her in the graveyard after the disasters before. And thus there was a shadow that clung to it, so much so that while you knew he had it, you had never heard him play it; you supposed it held too much of a memory of his failures, of his darker side, that he had been too afraid.

You were not though. Gently, reverently, you removed the instrument from it's casing and took up the bow with one hand. It felt cold in your hands and heavier than you expected but you refused to back down now from your choice. You turned your gaze back to him, still smiling, still hopeful as you spoke, “I wish you to teach me this one, Erik.”

“I...” he seemed to be in some shock but at least he stayed in first person; he opened his mouth only to shut it again, emotions running across his face at incredible speeds.

He cleared his throat, tried to collect himself, and attempted to speak again, “Are you sure? There are better ones I can teach you.”

You both knew that was a lie. Few were as beautiful as a violin when played right; only the piano and organ were more precious and close to his soul as that violin. But memories were a terrible thing and there were things Erik still never did that you suspected were from that terrible, terrible experience.

You were resilent though and stubborn, shaking your head. “I really wish to learn the violin, please Erik? I couldn't imagine learning from anyone else, for who else could possibly be as good as you are at playing it. And I have heard such beautiful things when a violin and piano play together by those whose skill are no doubt less than your own and so surely with your instruction...” You were not playing fair with him. He could be fluttery and excitable and oh so absolutely adorable and lovable with you but you knew there was a pride there and a part of him that did wish so terribly to be able to teach you. And here you were, tantalizing him on both regards, drawing on those parts of him in hopes of getting what you wanted. You could see in his expression the fight between doing so, allowing his pride to win out or his fear.

“But,” he said in a voice no louder than a whisper, a fearful small thing and you were reminded how sensitive your phantom truly could be.

It hurt you and you lowered the instrument, approaching him. “Oh Erik, sweet angel, I truly wish to learn but I don't wish to cause you actual distress, I promise.”

He looked up at you and your eyes met; you smiled gently at him, lovingly, and he bit a ruined lip. You wanted this, you truly did and you wanted it to be the violin but if it really was so hard on him to teach you, if pushing it would only hurt him more, you supposed you would need to let it be. Because it wasn't worth harming the man you loved so much.

Finally a sigh left him and he shook his head. “No, my wonderful songbird, I...I will teach you. Your Erik will do anything my songbird wishes of me.”

A smile formed on his face and you felt your heart swell with how cute it made him. Any expression of happiness was always a good one to you and you nodded, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, mon ange.”

Erik's heart fluttered at the kiss and his smile grew before he cleared his throat again. “Now let's see about your stance.”

You did not expect so much touching yet one he took a deep breath to compose himself his hands moved along your body, adjusting it, moving your arm, your head, the instrument so that it was cradled just right, that your fingers were in the right positions. Your skin heated up as he placed his hands on your waist and commanded, not asked, you to play. “A few notes, just to start.”

You did as instructed and only got in a few before he clicked his tongue and stopped you, readjusting you slightly. “No no no, relax, let the music fill you like when you sing. But instead you make the violin sing for you; caress it, feel it, the bow is an extension of your body, not simply a tool. Now again.”

Again you tried and felt his hands on you. They were warm, even through your dress, and your heart pounded hearing his breathing in your ear. You knew you were far from perfect, this being your first time, but it was better than you expected, because he had made sure of it. But it was strange to you; learning was something you had asked for, wanted, and you knew he could be passionate about teaching, something you always had been able to gently dissauage in him when it came to your singing. But perhaps the closeness, the actual physical contact, made this feel all the different, and you couldn't help but think as well how warm his breath was and strong his grip and how you wished to obey that smooth, alluring, commanding voice. So different than your Erik, your sweet and often self conscious angel, your excitable and loveable man, who slipped into third person at the smallest embarrassment or flustering, who smiled so geniunely and clung and loved with such intensity but not like this. His intensity was normally of desperation and love; this was passion of a different nature and it made heat build up within your heart like a fire you were not sure you wished to have extinguished. It felt both wonderous and a bit strange.

He nodded behind you, making pleased noises that only made it worse inside you. “Good good, much better. Though you still are far too tense.”

He placed a hand over yours holding the bow and closed his eyes. “You know how it feels to become one with the music, I know you do, songbird, just translate that to this.”

You certainly tried. You tried to take a deep breath, to forget he was there, that he was touching you, that he was so close. To focus on the notes, the violin, the music; get a feel for each note, what it was like, what it felt like, which was which and how they sounded together and in sequence. But Erik was a horrible distraction and you could not focus with his hands on you.

“Erik,” you muttered and this seemed to be to no avail; perhaps he was too far into his own mind, the Angel of Music he once was creeping out and overtaking.

“Focus, my songbird.” His voice was so exact, how could you possibly disobey?

“Erik,” you repeated and felt your heart ready to pound out of your chest.

“Give into the music.” His grip tightened both over your hand and at your side and you had to work very hard not to shake and play incorrectly. Even with all this you did not want to do that.

He was not listening and you were not sure you could take much more of this. But you being the smart songbird you were, knew of one thing that your angel could never resist no matter what happened, a thing that was guaranteed to break him of anything and return him to his sweet blubbering self.

It took all of your strength to pull it off, gripped as you were by his strong callused hands, but you managed by some miracle to turn enough to press your lips to his. Erik's eyes widened behind his mask and you knew that his whole face was turning red, could feel his hands lighten their grip, his body start to stiffen as it often did when you kissed him only to relax again. And move to grab your arms and pull you ever closer; Erik was a master of music but he was a slave to your love and desperate as always for every bit of it he could get. To be kissed by you was something he seemed always to want more and normally you delighted in giving it to him, everything you could. All the love you could muster for this sweet broken man. But the fire inside you was still burning and the aching that grew from the way he had spoken, the power of the Angel of Music, and there was plenty of desperation of your own as you leaned into the kiss, into him, only to have to break away for the all too human need of air. You both panted and you could see how blown out his pupils seemed to be as he looked at you.

“Songbird,” he said in a low voice.

“No fair,” you muttered in response and bit your lip, “All too unfair.” How did this man, this phantom in the dark, have such power yet seem so delicate and sensitive so much of the time? You did not know the answer to it but you knew it was unfair, that such a beautiful soul had to feel and be trapped by the past, by insecurities, by others.

“What is unfair?” he asked and there was still an edge, a trace of the angel within the man.

“Everything,” you stated and looked back at him, into those eyes that roiled with such emotion and thought, at your Erik, “But especially that you only seem able to have confidence in yourself and your place in the world when it comes to music.”

That seemed to fluster him but you took the opportunity to kiss him again, no little light thing as the flame inside continued to burn. If not for the violin and bow in your hands you would have grabbed hold of him but you did not dare drop the precious instrument, for him and for yourself, thus you could only lean into him and want more while getting only that. You heard him whine behind the kiss but Erik did not resist it and that grip he had on you loosened only so he could wrap his arms around you. How he delighted in holding you, it burned you more because here was his soft side showing again and you felt a tear hit your face. Not your own, his; the kiss broke again and he was looking at you with that sad expression he would get when things started to overwhelm the man, filling him up and demanding to be let out.

“Songbird,” he repeated with the essence of the whine woven in.

“We will have to continue the lesson later.” When you can explain better, when you can tell him gently how much it made your heart race to feel his touch, your skin burn to feel his breath against your neck, your body yearn because of the power of the Angel's voice and the love for the man. But right now you could not, need was too strong and he nodded all too quickly, sidetracked so easily by you.

He let you go long enough for you to be able to put the violin and bow safely away and close the case but not a second longer. His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close and picked you up, burying his face in your neck. “Your Erik wishes to be loved by you, please.”

“I wish to be loved by you as well, mon ange,” you whispered to him.

That's all you needed to say. The instruments and music were left behind as he carried you off to his room, to make music with you of a different type.

#erik x reader #erik destler x reader #phantom of the opera #poto #phantom of the opera x reader #fanfiction #the phantom and his songbird

[flowersforjude]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You’re attacked on your way home from shopping and Elvis is none too pleased about it.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3,687

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Violence, some mild cursing, angry but protective E, reader gets hurt but E is there to patch her up, there’s some fluff at the end!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I know I kind of fell off the face of the Earth but I’m back! There were some family things I had to take care of, but regular posting will be back. This was requested by a sweet anon. I hope you enjoy it, love! And apologies for the long wait!

masterlist | read on ao3

Your fingers held tightly to the bags in your hands. Your feet light as a ballerina's as you skip to your car. It had been a successful day of shopping—new clothes, some treats for your friends, and a few small gifts for your husband, Elvis.

The scent of fresh leather and perfume still seemed to hang in the air around you as you pulled out of the parking lot. Your fingers traced the smooth surface of a new silver bracelet on your wrist, and you smiled at the thought of showing everything you got to Elvis. You imagined his face full of gratitude and happiness when you gave him the new watch and rings you got him.

The anticipation of returning home and showing off your finds made you press the gas pedal the tiniest bit harder. Elvis' delight in seeing you model your new outfits never wavered, even after how long you'd been together. You could already hear him excitedly telling you that he had the perfect shirt or jacket to match a dress you bought or that he had a tie that would go with the color of a blouse you got. It warmed your heart to see him so happy over matching with you—something others wouldn't understand. Something only the two of you would share.

As you came to a stop at a red light, you happened to glance in your rearview mirror. Your brows came together, and it took you a moment to make sure you weren't seeing things.

There was a car that looked alarmingly familiar—a shade of red with a crack in the windshield. You swore that it was the same vehicle that was parked a few spaces from you at the mall.

You tried to shake off the feeling of unease that was creeping up inside you. It's not like you didn't see a million cars that looked alike every day. This had to just be a coincidence, you told yourself, but as the traffic light turned green, the car still trailed behind you. It crept closer to your bumper, and you could see the occupants. A man sat in the driver's seat, and a woman accompanied him in the passenger side.

Your eyes locked with the man’s, and you shuddered with a wave of cold fear. You pressed harder on the gas, wanting to get away from the whole situation. The possibility of this being a coincidence seemed more and more unlikely as the car looked to be following your every move. You made a few turns, hoping to lose them, but he stayed right on your tail.

Your mind raced with thoughts about why these people were following you. In all your years with Elvis, you never had a crazy fan interaction. Elvis had told you stories of encounters he had that left him uneasy, but the worst you had was some staring when someone recognized you. Which, thankfully, didn't happen often. Most of the time, it was just young girls who knew you were Elvis' wife. But was this something you needed to be concerned about?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you attempted to keep composure. You didn't need to lose your cool on the highway, and surely these people weren't bold enough to follow you all the way home.

You hoped.

As you turned onto your street, the car continued to follow you, and some of your anxiety gave way to annoyance. You loved that so many people adored your husband because he was able to bring so much delight to his fans, and he got so much joy from it as well. But some people took their admiration too far.

The driveway of the home you shared with Elvis was coming up, and the vehicle was still on you. You had to think of something.

You pulled into the drive and parked the car. When you saw that they had actually followed you into the driveway, you were shocked. The nerve of some people would never fail to amaze you. You waited a moment to see if they would get out, but they simply sat in their car, staring into the back glass of yours. You could feel their eyes on you, even from a distance.

You decided to take matters into your own hands. Even though you were filled with apprehension, you got out of your car and walked up to theirs, your hands clenched tightly to keep them from shaking. As you approached, the driver rolled down his window.

"Can I help you?" You asked, trying to sound confident.

The man looked you up and down before speaking. "What?"

You could feel your annoyance spike. These people had followed you all the way home, and now they wanted to act like they didn't know what was going on.

You tried to keep your voice steady as you spoke. "I asked if I could help you because you've been following me for miles now."

The man looked at you with a blank expression, and the woman stayed silent. After a second, the man gave you a sly grin, and you could see a hint of malice in his eyes. "We just wanted to say hello to the Queen."

Your stomach churned, and a wave of disgust swept through you at his words. What was phrased as a compliment was made to sound like a threat, and you were feeling extremely unsafe now. You knew that Elvis had a lot of fans, but something about the way the man spoke and the look in his eyes made you uneasy. You took a step back, inching closer to your car.

You tried your hardest to put on a smile and not show your fear. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I have to get inside now."

As you turned back to your car, ready to get away from this strange encounter, the woman yelled from her seat. "Look, we're just big fans of Elvis, and we saw you at the mall, and we wanted to follow you home to maybe meet him." You glanced back at her. She wore a small smile meant to seem friendly, but you weren't convinced. "We're sorry if we scared you."

Knowing your husband better than he knew himself, you were fully aware that if you went up to the house and told him there were fans at the gate that wanted to meet him, he'd come down here and give them his undivided attention. That was just the type of person he was. Elvis was thoughtful, and oh so kind. But you didn't want these people around any longer than they had to be. You got an off feeling from them, and if your mother taught you anything, it was to trust your gut.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves. Not knowing how they would react once you turned them away made you not want to speak at all. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that'll be possible. I'm not sure if Elvis is even home yet. He's a very busy man, as I'm sure you can gather." You waited with baited breath as the couple took in your rejection.

The woman's expression soured. "We just wanted to say hello," she said, her voice growing increasingly bitter. "What's the harm in that?”

You could feel their eyes boring into you, and you knew you needed to end this conversation before things escalated. "I'm sorry.” You repeated, backing up a few inches. "But it's just not possible right now." The woman huffed, and the man glared at you. You apologized one more time before turning your back to leave.

Just as your hand was about to close around the car door handle, you heard rushed footsteps coming up behind you. You had just enough time to whip your head around before your back was pressed against the front gate.

The woman had gotten out and was now gripping the front of your shirt as she held you in place. "You think you're so special, don't you?" She hissed, her eyes filled with jealous rage. "Just because you have a ring on your finger doesn't mean you own Elvis."

"Let me go!" You shouted, struggling to free yourself, but that just seemed to aggravate her further. She jerked you forward, and your head slammed into the metal gate from the momentum. Your head throbbed from the impact, and you cried out as you felt the warm trickle of blood run down the back of your neck.

As you attempted to regain your composure, the man slowly got out of the car. His dark look was gone now, replaced with something akin to boredom. "Come on, baby." He said, his voice smooth and coaxing. "Let's just go. This isn't worth it."

But she wasn't listening. Her eyes stayed locked with yours, and you could see so much hatred in them.

You were acutely aware of how vulnerable you were. You were alone, with no one to help you. Your heart was beating so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you tried to shake off the woman's grip. You had to do something. You couldn't stay there and let them hurt you.

"I don't want any trouble," you said, your voice embarrassingly shaking. "Just leave me alone."

The woman rolled her eyes, and before you knew it, you were hissing in pain as your hands scraped on the rough concrete of the driveway. "Fine, we'll leave you alone. But I'm gonna teach a spoiled bitch a lesson first."

Her hands seized your hair and yanked you up. A hiss left your lips as a blazing fire shot through your skull. Before you could think of a way to fight back, she had shoved you face first into the gate, which rattled from the collision. Your cheek bounced off it, and she laughed. "Oh, that bruise is gonna look good," she sneered.

You could hear the man behind you sigh. "Come on, baby," he said again. "We need to go."

"No!" She shouted. "This stuck-up little bitch needs to know she's not queen almighty."

As you jerked in her grasp, you could feel the woman's nails digging into your scalp. You knew that you couldn't just take the abuse. You just didn't know what to do. But like a godsend, you happened to glance to your right. The intercom to the house was inches from you. You wouldn't even need to get free from your attacker; just somehow get your arm up a bit to press the button and call for help.

Her partner was still trying to convince her to leave, so she was distracted. You slowly began to raise your arm up, inch by inch. You shook with adrenaline, but at last your finger crushed the call button down.

"Help me! Someone! I need help!"

The woman let out a squeal of aggravation, and finally her grip on your hair faltered. You took the opportunity to try to push her off you.

She went to grab at you again, but voices from up the drive sounded out. You could pick out Elvis' voice in the pack, and that alone made you sigh with relief.

"Fuck this." You heard the man say. "Enough is enough. I'm leaving with or without you." He ran off to the car. It started up but didn't leave. "Come on!" He yelled.

The woman wouldn't move, though, even as Elvis and the guys got closer. She just lunged at you again.

"Hey, what the hell is going on here?" You see Elvis running towards you, his eyes filled with concern and anger.

The woman stepped back, suddenly realizing how dire the circumstances had turned for her now.

"Y/N." Elvis called. You turned to follow his voice and were dazed by the sheer comfort his presence brought.

He whipped open the gate and was by your side instantly. He took your face in his hands, his thumbs going over the bruise forming on your cheek. Tears filled your eyes as everything that occurred crashed down on you. "Are you okay, baby?" Elvis asked, his voice gentle as he wrapped you tightly in his arms, pulling you into his chest. His scent flooded your nose—aromatic wood smoke and spicy cologne. It comforted you as nothing else could.

You felt a sob rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Elvis heard your sniffles and lifted your head."What happened?" He demanded, looking between you and the couple.

The man was still near the car, with Jerry and some of the other guys standing around him. The woman stood a few feet away from you with a dumbfounded look on her face.

"She attacked me when I wouldn't let her in the gate." You answered, your teary eyes meeting his.

The woman seemed to snap out of it. "You little bitch!" She screamed. "I'm gonna-"

"Alright, stop," Elvis interrupted. He stared at the woman in disbelief. "Stay here, darlin’.” He told you as he strode over to the woman.

The sound of his voice was too faint to be heard from where you stood. but the way he threw his arms around wildly made it clear he was not being nice. He thrust his finger in her face and pointed back towards the gate. His face was hard and his arms tense; a look of rage emanated from him.

You watched as Elvis set his attention on the man. They exchanged words before Elvis spat out something and pointed towards the car. The couple got in without further delay.

You looked away from the retreating vehicle and locked eyes with Elvis. You could see the rage still boiling within him as he marched over to you. You knew he was trying his best to keep himself from losing his temper entirely, so you reached out your hands for him. He took them without hesitation, gripping them tightly as he pulled you into an embrace once more.

Your face fell into his chest, pressing your cheek against his shirt. "Oh, darlin'." He whispered, his voice filled with worry. "We need to get you inside." He ran his hands through your hair to inspect some of the damage.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and let him lead you towards the house. You clung to him like a lifeline, soothed by his warmth and the way his arms felt around you.

As you walked, you couldn't help but feel a little foolish for letting yourself get into that situation in the first place. But you knew it wasn't entirely your fault. Elvis' fame brought unwanted attention, and sometimes it spilled over onto those closest to him.

Once inside, Elvis led you to the couch in the living room and sat you down gently. “Let’s see here,” he said, his voice soft as he swiped his thumb across your bruised cheek. His eyes carefully roamed over your face, taking in the swelling of your cheek before turning your hands over and inspecting the gashes on your palms.

"You hurt anywhere else, honey?" He hesitated as if afraid of the answer.

You nodded. "I'm pretty sure the back of my head is cut." You answered, pointing to the base of your skull.

He sighs before standing and moving to take a look. Elvis was gentle as he parted your hair and examined the laceration, his fingers lightly brushing over the wound. "Oh, baby." He murmurs before kissing the crown of your head. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of his lips against your hair.

"We need to go to the hospital." He said firmly as his brows furrowed.

He was already moving away from you when you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-motion. “No, please.” You said, your voice quieter than normal. You didn't want to cause an even bigger fuss, so you shook your head and tried to stand up. “I just want to be here with you.”

Elvis looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he caught onto your sentiment. "Alright, let's clean these wounds up then." He said finally, gesturing for you to come with him to the bathroom.

He helped you sit on the edge of the tub before going off in search of supplies—bandages, antiseptic, and some ice—he thought would help with the swelling of your cheekbone. Once fully prepared, he knelt down beside you and began tending to you.

He worked quickly while still being careful with you, not wanting to cause any more unnecessary pain. His touch was gentle as he swabbed away the dirt from the cuts on your palms. He wiped them down with antiseptic, only pausing when you winced or tensed from the sting. Each time, he'd look at you apologetically before rubbing soothing circles on your knee and continuing his work. You watched him work in silence, marveling at how attentive he was.

"There," he whispered softly. It was clear he wanted to make sure that you were alright, though there wasn't much more he could do for now other than offer you comfort.

You give him a light smile before leaning forward to wrap your arms around him in a hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You sighed contentedly as Elvis' lip made a path across the side of your face up to the shell of your ear. His lips were like ballet on your skin as they moved across it, making it seem like everything was alright again.

"Thank you." You mumbled into his skin.

He chuckled breathlessly. "Anything for my girl."

The next few hours passed by uneventfully. The time was filled by pretending nothing happened by lounging on the couch with Elvis while the television played and showing him what you got from the mall. There was something that lingered in the air, though. Something that wasn't spoken but felt just as strongly.

Elvis was off, and you only had an idea as to what the matter was. You knew it had to do with the incident with the couple. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, though. You just watched as all the troubling emotions passed over his face for the rest of the day. You wished you could take it all away, but you knew that wasn't possible. All you could do was be there for him, and that's what you intended to do.

As the sun set below the horizon, Elvis got up from his spot on the couch and stretched his arms. "We should get you to bed." He said, looking down at you.

You nodded, smiling up at him. "Yes, please; I'm exhausted."

He didn't chuckle at your eagerness like he normally would. And while you both readied for bed, he was distant. There was none of his usual playfulness. No flicking water at you while you brushed your teeth. No cheekily swatting at your butt as you walked past him in your little nightgown. You could've written it off as him not wanting to be too rough with you after the ordeal, but that didn't seem right.

The bed dipped as you two settled into the blankets. On a typical night, Elvis would instantly pull you into him, his arms coming around you to hold you as you fell to sleep. Tonight, he only stared blankly at the ceiling.

“E.” You whispered quietly, your hand coming to rest on his chest. “What's wrong, baby? You've seemed down all evening.”

Elvis turned to face you, and you definitely noticed how he flinched slightly when his eyes flickered to the bruise on your cheek. “It's my fault,” He said boldly, his voice filled with remorse and sadness. You felt your heart constrict at his confession.

You looked at him, confused. "How is it your fault, baby?"

"I wasn't able to protect you." His voice was low as he fiddled with the ends of your hair. He couldn't make himself meet your gaze.

You reached down and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "You did protect me, Elvis. You were there for me."

He finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with grief. "But I couldn't stop it from happening in the first place."

You squeezed his hand. “It's not your fault.” You insisted firmly.

Elvis nodded slowly, his hand still in yours. "I just can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

You scooted in closer to him, resting your head on his chest. "I know," you whispered. "But I'm okay now."

Elvis wrapped his arm around you and held you close, his lips pressing gently against your forehead.

You could feel his heart beating in his chest, and it was as if it was in sync with yours. The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments before you felt Elvis stir beneath you. He shifted, moving so that he was hovering above you.

"I need you to know how much I love you." He spoke with an intensity you've only heard from him a few times.

Your heart swelled at his words. "I love you too, E," you replied.

Elvis kissed you, his lips moving slowly over yours. The gentleness of his mouth was like a butterfly's wings as it flitted through the air. You knew he was trying to convey all of his emotions through the way his lips moved against yours. He gave you one last peck before pulling back to look at you. "I don't ever wanna let you go." He said, his eyes piercing into yours.

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing circles on his skin. "You'll never have to." You promised, your voice unwavering.

In that moment, as you drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, you knew no matter what happened, Elvis would always be there to catch you when you stumbled. And in return, you'd always be there to pick him back up when he fell.

This was so fun to write, and I'm really happy with it. Thank you for the request, anon!💕

#elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvisaaronpresley #austin butler elvis #austin butler #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis x reader #elvis movie #elvis x y/n #elvis 2022

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hades, Nikola Tesla, Buddha, Jack, Kojirō Sasaki, and Beelzubub who had a lovely human wife that passed tragically. But to their surprise their wife is their opponent in ragnarok because-

A: They reincarnated as a human

or

B: They ascended to Godhood when they died ( pick Buddha and the humans for this one please 😊 )

Just want that classic Hurt/ comfort for this please.

-He could still remember that terrible day as if it was only moments ago.

-The day you were taken from him, dying to protect another.

-He remembers screaming your name, watching your body crumple to the ground with a dull thud, you had died instantly.

-He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

-So much time had passed since he last saw you, held you, there was not a day that passed where he didn’t remember your smile.

-When he was selected to fight next in Ragnarok, he was informed that his opponent changed at the last moment, which confused him as he walked out first, listening to both the cheers and the jeers from either side.

-The last person he was expecting to see was you, wearing a long flowing white gown with golden armor adorning your features, holding a matching sword and shield.

-Hades- He could only openly gawk, as did many others, seeing you there, you had been taken away so violently by a rouge god and Hades never forgave himself for not getting to your side quickly enough, he always blamed himself. To see you there, standing across from him as his opponent, as a human, reincarnated, Hades felt his throat tighten, joy swelling up inside of him. Your confident smile and the faint color in your cheeks made you so beautiful, you grinned, lowering your own weapons, “My love~” your embrace as he rushed you had both sides cheering loudly, as he picked you up and spun you, twirling you around, so happy to be together again. You didn’t fight, he refused to harm even a hair on your head, and you were the same, but none held it against the two of you as you walked out hand in hand, just as you should be. You explained to him later, once he had paused attacking your face with kisses, that your soul had been lost, wandering aimlessly, before you reincarnated as a human. Then when you died, Brunnhilde was the one to find you, to bring you back to him. As you were now a human, Hades’ view changed, wanting to save humanity, as you would perish a second time if the gods won, he couldn’t lose you a second time.

-Beelzebub- His eyes were wide in shock, frozen in place, he had to wonder if this was a cruel joke, a sick prank, someone using illusion magic, he couldn’t believe his eyes, seeing you across from him. You smiled softly at him, your sword and shield lowering, fondness in your eyes, which made his heart jolt in his chest, almost painfully. He mouthed your name, unable to find his voice before he approached you. You remained silent as his hand lifted to cup your cheek, feeling that you were real, you were really there. A tear appeared in the corner of your eye and his thumb brushed it away as it slipped down your cheek, a soft smile appearing on his lips. Zeus cupped his hands around his mouth, “Kiss her already!!” the crowd was quick to agree, cheering loudly, celebrating your reunion which made you giggle softly. He kissed you softly, but so passionately, one of your feet popped up, before he pulled away and instantly picked you up princess style and walked out, listening to the cheers of your reunion. Beelzebub was amazed when you told him how you had been reincarnated as a human and brought to Valhalla after your death by Brunnhilde, who knew to pair you with Beelzebub in the fights, to reunite you. Brunnhilde was surprised when she received a thank you letter from him two days later.

-Buddha- His mouth was open, just slightly in shock, seeing the battle maiden across from him, seeing that it was you, after all these years, now a god yourself, just like him. You smiled warmly at him, giving him a bright grin, one that was burned into his memory, “Hello Siddhartha, my love.” His heart swelled, hearing you call him by his original name, his prayer wheel falling to the ground and your weapons did the same as you ran to each other, embracing, your legs going around his waist, hugging each other so tightly if the other would vanish if you let go. Zeus was cheering loudly, a bright grin on his face, seeing the two of you together, even if you both made him want to pull his hair out. Gods and humans both cheered for the two of you, both knowing that you and Buddha were both originally human lovers and both ascending to godhood, now together again after all this time. Nobody was surprised when you both gave a big grin to the crowd before grabbing your weapons and headed out of the arena, hand in hand. Buddha wanted to know, later that day after hours of ‘getting reacquainted’, if you had been a god for so long, why hadn’t you come to him sooner. You explained that after your death, you were worshipped as a hero, and that kept you bound to earth, unable to ascend, until you were able to obtain enough power to do so and with it came your godhood.

-Tesla- The smile on his face was a big as the sun, Gondul unfused with him, a smile on her face as he immediately ran for you, “Y/N!” your weapons fell as giggles bubbled out, his hands meeting your waist and spinning you around rapidly before pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. He tilted your face up and kissed you passionately, which made the crowd cheer loudly while Gondul giggled softly, “So youthful~” many of the gods were lamenting the loss of you, but you had been refusing gods for years now, as your heart belonged to another and would always belong to him. Zeus and Brunnhilde both sent each other a small nod in agreement, not going to make you fight each other, allowing this battle to end in a draw without a fight. Nikola was glued to you once you went back to your private waiting room, having you sit on his lap as he admired every part of you, seeing that your sparkling eyes and stunning smile were just as beautiful as the day that he lost you. He was very enthusiastic to learn about your ascension, his science side taking over as he wanted to know everything about it, which you thought was cute, but that was one of the things that made you fall in love with him all over again, happy to oblige his curious nature.

-Kojiro- Despite being way older than the last time you both met, as you passed a year before he did, you could still recognize him, you knew that the man across the arena from you was Kojiro, your Kojiro. He was stunned, mouth open just a hair, his eyes wide and quickly welling with tears, seeing you standing there, looking like an angel, his angel. Your weapons were quickly dropped, abandoned as the crowd cheered, seeing the reunion. Many knew your tale, as you died a hero, defending a child, and for your heroism, you ascended to Valhalla as a goddess, becoming a patron of children. Had you known Kojiro was here in Valhalla, you would have sought him out centuries ago, to reunite with the only man you had ever loved. Gods were jealous of Kojiro, as he ‘stole’ you away from them, but you had always been his. His hand lifted to your cheeks, feeling your soft skin under his calloused but strong hands, signs of his hard work and you smiled up at him, tears welling in your eyes before they fell and his tears soon joined as the crowd roared with cheers. Backstage in his room, he said nothing, only holding you close, he didn’t care that you were a goddess now, nothing else mattered to him other than holding you in his arms again, right where you were supposed to be.

Jack- His eyes were wide, immediately removing his monocle, to look at your soul, seeing blaring joy and love gazing back at him, those beautiful colors he had seen so long ago, those colors he missed each and every day. He couldn’t believe it, his breath catching in his throat as you smiled across the arena at him. He didn’t know how you were there or how you managed to ascend to becoming a goddess yourself, but you were there. Glokk unfused with him as he made it to you, a smile on her lips as his hands cupped your cheeks, all three of you ignoring the crowd, many who were upset that he was touching you in such an intimate way. Your hands lifted to cup his cheeks and he sighed, feeling your warmth on his face, his eyes closing, relaxing as he basked in your affections. The fight didn’t occur, but nobody expected it to, despite some wanting to see the villain that is Jack the Ripper get destroyed, you refused to fight the man you loved, and he couldn’t even think about harming a single hair on your head. In his private room, he held you for what felt like hours, you sitting in his lap, his arms around you, his head against your chest, hearing your heartbeat after so many years. The two of you didn’t need words spoken between you to know how each other felt.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror beelzebub #ror buddha #ror tesla #ror kojiro sasaki #ror jack the ripper