#and while logically I know that means it needs adjusted

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

#new meds make my vision blurry. you dont want to know how long it took me to write that sentence lmao. #they also make my muscles spasm randomly? i keep almost dropping shit. #in the grand scheme of things i know logically that this is better than my last round of meds. #but it all seems to mean nothing when i cant hold a pen or my phone w one hand #&i can barely look at my phone or laptop. #i need this to just be an adjustment period lmao. i cant lose my sight any more than i already have. #even books are too much. i was hoping maybe it was just the screens. i was incorrect lmao. #i am not a brave artist but i am a self indulgent one. i can say w almost absolute certainty that i will choose my vision over any med. #ive had a block to my creativity lately&im positive it started back when i swapped meds. #it would really only take one more thing i'm losing for me to simply go fucking insane lmao. #... ive been on a downswing for a while now. i miss being manic. except i dont. except i do.

[rileyslibrary]

HR thought it’d be a good idea to handcuff you and Ghost together as a team-building exercise. It wasn’t. Or was it?

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,345 (approx. 5-6 min reading time)

Notes:

Fluff and the typical shenanigans

Warnings: language, suggestive content

For @ddiamondsdancing, who inspired me through her story

More of these.

———————————————————————

He secures one end of the handcuffs to your wrist and adjusts them.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“It’s beautiful, Lieutenant, you shouldn’t have,” you reply and flick your wrist.

He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, does it hurt?”

He’s one of the most feared men on the base, yet he worries about hurting you. That’s… new.

You twist the handcuff, and he advises against fidgeting too much, asking you to let him know if it hurts so he can readjust it.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you finally say.

“Good,” he responds and clicks the other end of the handcuff to his wrist, “shall we get going?”

You nod.

Things have started changing around the base since HR got their hands on your superiors. They switched their focus away from resorting to punishment and toward more effective ways of communication.

That was all good and fun until Captain Price and the other higher-ups decided that this training shouldn’t be limited to them alone. They believed that everyone at the base could benefit from the same approach.

And here comes today, where you find yourself assigned to Ghost as a buddy with a pair of handcuffs—key not included—and instructed to spend the entire day helping each other. Or torment. Whichever comes first. Or more naturally.

He starts walking, but his strides are so broad that you get dragged along.

“Can you—” you struggle to find the words while keeping up, “can you chill for a second?”

He stops in his tracks, which causes you to bump into his back. You look at him, annoyed, and he stares down at you.

“You need to slow your pace, Lieutenant.”

“You need to pick up yours.”

“I can’t lengthen my strides,” you explain, “but you can shorten yours.”

He looks down at his boots briefly and lets out a sharp chuckle. You wonder what’s going through his mind. He turns his feet outward like a ballerina and starts taking little steps forward.

“Are you mocking me, Lieutenant?” you ask.

“Do you walk like that?” he asks back.

“No.”

“Then no, I’m not mocking you,” he replies, although you can hear the amusement in his voice. He stops and turns to face you.

“Go on,” he says, gesturing with his head for you to move to the front, “you take the lead, and I’ll adjust my walk.”

The rest of the day wasn’t easy, but it was manageable.

You went to the training room, where you had to do the same exercises simultaneously and adjust to each other’s pace to get work done, except in some cases where the Lieutenant wanted to put in more reps. So you sat on the ground, cross-legged, with your hand attached to his, and waited until he finished his push-ups.

“Ready to hit the showers with me, Lieutenant?” You tease and anticipate his reaction.

He stands up and helps you off the ground.

“From bonding to bondage...” He says, and you immediately get flustered. You weren’t expecting this kind of reaction, that’s for sure.

“Tempting offer, soldier,” he says in a flirtatious tone, “but first, you have to tell me...”

He pauses and seizes you, looking at you from head to toe. Your heart beats so fast in your chest that you can feel your pulse in your throat and head.

“...how are you going to remove your shirt?” He asks and shakes your handcuffed hands.

Good question. But you won’t let logic, or Ghost, take hold of you now.

“When there is a will, there is a way, sir,” you reply. “I can cut through it.”

“And what about putting another shirt on afterwards?” he adds, raising an eyebrow. “Will you be sewing one back on?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Always with the logistics, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to think ahead,” he explains, pulling you gently to keep moving, “just in case we have to explain to HR why we’re both handcuffed and naked.”

Touché.

You organised the warehouse for your next task, and the handcuffs forced you to communicate and collaborate more closely than ever before. Navigating through the cluttered aisles and shelves became a shared challenge. You relied on each other’s strengths to find the best way forward. Every movement had to be coordinated, and every decision was made together.

Even when you wanted to take a break and have a snack, he helped you by holding up your water bottle while you munched on your sandwich. It was as if the handcuffs became a synonym for unity and teamwork rather than restraint and suppression. You had to trust each other’s judgement and, by combining your resourcefulness, turn every obstacle into an opportunity.

Up until you had to pee.

“Can’t you hold it in?”

“Until the end of the day?” You ask, squeezing your legs together, “No way, Lt., sorry. I—we have to go now.”

“No wonder why,” he snaps and pulls you with him, “you drank the entire water bottle.”

“It was you who fed me the entire water bottle,” you snap back and follow him to the toilets. “You were squeezing too much water in my mouth—that’s why it went empty.”

You approach the bathroom stall and squeeze into one of the cubicles. Ghost looks away to allow you some privacy.

“Sir?” You ask, and he turns halfway.

“I need your hand; I mean my hand to unzip my pants.”

He lets out a long exhale and relaxes his arm, so you can use it as you wish. With his hand very close to your zip, you pull down your pants and squat.

But nothing’s coming out. You need more privacy, and unfortunately, under these circumstances, you had none. How didn’t HR think of that? The HR, of all the departments!

“You done?” He asks with his head facing the door.

“I haven’t started yet,” you explain. “I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”

“A couple of hours ago, you wanted to shower together, but now you’re uncomfortable peeing in my presence?”

“That’s different, Ghost; I think you know that.”

And, as if things weren’t awkward enough, someone knocks on your bathroom door. Ghost lifts his heels and peeks from the top of the door. He instinctively turns halfway to talk to you, but you kick him to look in front.

“It’s Janet from HR,” he jokingly tells you. “Want to say hi?”

“What the hell, Ghost?” You whisper, “Shut up.”

He chuckles and then turns to face her.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologises, “you’re going to have to find another loo; we’re trying to pee in this one.”

You glance at Ghost’s back, and your face flushes with embarrassment.

“We’re... experiencing a tiny issue, Janet,” you explain, “the handcuffs, you see...”

Before you can finish your explanation, Ghost interrupts you.

“It’s a team-building exercise, Janet!” He says in a threatening tone while peeking at Janet, who’s hurrying out of the bathroom, “We’re exploring new levels of trust and communication; ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU FUCKERS WANTED US TO DO?”

“GHOST!” You shout.

“What?” he asks, acting innocent. “They should have considered the consequences before implementing stupid shit.”

“Speaking of shit...”

“Don’t tell me you have to do that as well,” he says, throwing his head back. “We’re going to stay here forever.”

“No,” you reply, “I’m done—your feud with Janet helped me.”

With Ghost’s help, you zip up your pants, wash your hands—all four of them—and head to Price’s office, where you’re about to report how the team-building exercise went. In return, you will receive the key to your handcuffs.

You stand at the captain’s door with several other soldiers, handcuffed in pairs.

“I’ll miss you, Lt.,” you whisper, “my other half.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, really,” you continue, “who will I have now to unzip my pants when I want to pee and squeeze the fucking ocean in my mouth when I want water.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies, “I’m sure you’ll find another poor soul to torture.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” he says, taking your hand discreetly and interlocking your fingers in his, “not one bit.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost

[shooting-love-arrows]

could you write where darling wakes up and sees 1950s husband in the middle of his morning routine and finds out hes not as neat as they thought?

but instead of taking it badly they love him even more

Dear Anon,

Aww, that's heartwarming!

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 and not so perfect morning

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied) Tw. angsty, hurt and comfort. A/N: I decided to take into consideration this question when writing this fic. So it is longer and about our dearest 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Squeeack…

You were awoken by the quiet and familiar sound of the bathroom door being open. It means only one thing: your dear husband was currently in the bathroom. Like every other day during this time around.

“Ugh…” A soundless groan of misery left your mouth. Unluckily you didn't sleep well that night. Your sleep was shallow and you couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. Not to mention you woke up to every sound you could hear. And just when you were slipping into a blissful dreamland, your bathroom doors decided to prevent you from slipping further. For now, you snuggled closer to your fluffy pillow. Your thoughts began to roam freely but at some point focused on something that has been bothering you for a while. 

It was confusing. 

At the very beginning of your marriage, you found it surprising. Not many people were that determined to wake up early in the morning. After a few months, you reasoned that it was just part of his personality. Perhaps a perfectionist problem? Part of his routine he didn’t want to stray from? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to pray. Your logic was that if he wants to share it with you, he’ll do so. But after months turned into years, with you still being left in the dark, you began to feel…doubt. 

“Why does he do that?” You wondered more than once. You had no idea what was the reason why your sweetheart got up before you, shuffled around the bathroom, only to come back to bed right before your alarm clock rang, like nothing ever happened. “What does he do there? Should I ask him? Does he want me to ask him? Maybe I should wait for him to tell me himself?”

So many questions, so little answers…

You sighed heavily. It looks like you won’t be able to catch some zzz’s anymore. You were too awake, especially with your mind running miles an hour.

“What a pity…” You rolled over your back and groggily opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyesight. The familiar white ceiling of your cozy bedroom greeted you like an old friend. Streams of warm sunlight were shyly peaking in the room from behind the gaps of the closed curtains. Everything stood still. It was peaceful. You let yourself sink into the soft bed and strained your ears to hear your husband shuffling in the bathroom. You wanted to say you were content but… “What a pity he isn’t here with me…”

You let your eyes slide over to the other side of the bed. It tugged on your heart that it was cold and empty with a messily thrown blanket and a pillow with a dent the size of your husband's head is what has greeted you. It was a let down. You wished he was there to greet you with his brilliant smile that seemed to light up the room, whisper to you a ‘good morning, my darling’ that always caused your heart to skip a beat and let you kiss his soft lips that perfectly molded with yours. This is what you needed to start a good day. 

Involuntarily you did a big and satisfying stretch. Your body felt heavy and begged you to stay in. Just lay down…under those fluffy blankets. Let yourself relax and wait for your dearest husband to climb back beside you. Wake up to him and cherish those kisses you'll share…

“I’m spoiled fella, aren’t I?”

There was no point in dwelling about such matters this early in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, you bravely fought those demons of laziness and decided to get up. You decided to invest this energy in something productive instead. And there’s so much to do around the house! 

“Hold on a moment…isn’t my husband in the bathroom?” Your mind went blank before you eagerly jumped out of your bed. You wouldn’t miss a chance to spend more time with the love of your life. 

You shuffled towards your bathroom, barely containing your happiness. So high on positive emotions and not expecting anything unusual, you didn’t even hesitate to open the door. 

Squeeack!

There was a beat of silence. Both of you froze for entirely different reasons. 

You stopped mid stride when entering the small space. Your jaw went slack when your eyes took a closer look at your husband. Your shoulder dropped and you took a deeper breath. His face was…bare. His glistening face seemed to be freshly washed since it was glowing in the warm light. He…he was mesmerizing. 

While you were too busy admiring the entirely new side of your husband you didn’t notice how 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 seemed to be feeling the exact opposite of you. His eyes widened till the white was showing around his irises and his stare didn’t dare to stray from you. His breathing quickened and his body began to fold, hoping to make himself smaller. 

This couldn’t be happening…it can’t be! How…why are you awake? Why are you here? You…fuck…you found him out!

“Swee — ”

“This can’t be happening…! You…no…how…?” You were cut off by your husband's quiet and wobbly muttering. Your eyebrows threw together and your body grew still. You were quick to note how your husband hid his face from you and was hunched over the sink. You heard just how heavy his breathing has become. Something was clearly wrong. 

“Sweetheart…?”

The reality around 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 became more vivid. His senses heightened to the point he was sure he could feel his surroundings. He was sinking so deep into his headspace he began to get lost there. Everything was becoming too much. His head, his thoughts and his feelings were ripping him apart. And the reason behind it was very valid. Whatever he has built around his person, whatever worth he had in your eyes and the control were gone with the swing of those blasted doors! 

“Dearest?”

He was falling apart. 

You flinched back (but only because you didn’t expect it) when he started laughing hysterically. Your concern for your husband only grew tenfold when you saw his state worsening by every second. You wanted to help him however you didn’t understand what could be the cause of this. Was it…you?

It turns out you didn’t have more time to analyze the situation, because you had to rush over when you saw your husband crumbling to the floor. Before his body could hit the ground at full force, you caught him safely in your arms. He was hyperventilating and you feared that he would pass out from the lack of air. His body was shaking badly and muttering things under his nose like a madman. Just like you did many times before in different scenarios, you tucked his head into the crook of your neck, laid your chin on top of his head, brought him safely into your arms to hold him tightly. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 closed his eyes, brought his knees close to his chest and circled his arms around them. He curled into a tight ball, slowly rocking back and forth in your arms. 

Sob…sob…sob…

But your heart broke when you heard the first sobs escaping his lips. 

You really wished you would know what to say or do in that situation. You wished you were more educated on that matter so you could be useful. You wished you could fulfill your role as his lifetime partner to him. Unfortunately, for now you had to rely on your instinct with a promise to be better and aid your husband in the time of need.

Starting now.

“Let it out love…let it out…” You whispered against his ear and started caressing his head. Sweet nothings began to pour out of your mouth soon after. Half of his curls were freed from the curlers and you carefully carded your fingers through them in a soothing motion. 

“Y…you…u…fo…fou…nd…out…!” He wailed in your neck after a while of intense crying. His voice held nothing but despair, pain and heartbreak. Not to mention he could barely speak with how violent his sobs were. You blinked rapidly, scrambling to understand what he meant by that. 

“What have I found out, dearest husband?” You lowered your voice.

“You…you…w…will…leave…leave…me!” He choked out those words like he didn’t hear your question. 

Your eyes widened when you heard this statement. How could he think you’ll leave him? What’s the reasoning behind this logic? Are you failing as a partner? Apparently so because otherwise, your husband shouldn’t be saying, nor even thinking, about such dark thoughts. 

Some moments passed before you opened your mouth again. 

“For better and for worse…for better, for worse…for richer, for poorer…in sickness and in health…until death do us part.” You whispered those sacred vows, engraved in your mind till the end of your time. You squeezed him tighter so your bodies were melting against each other. Your husband's eyes widened when he heard them, especially when laced with so much love and adoration just like during your wedding. His chest was heaving up and down, violent hiccups jolting his body. His face was flushed, fat tears pouring from his eyes and snot steadily coming down his nose.

He was at his worst, ugly and disgusting. And you…you dared to say those words? Why…?

“Be it whether you’re at your best, at your worst, when we’re young and when we’ll grow old, whether you wear your makeup or not. I am here for you.” You swallowed thickly and fought against your own tears. Your husband needs you and you won’t fail him ever again.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 processed your words before he let out another wail that echoed in the bathroom. You felt your husband latching onto your waist and clutching onto it tightly. He was afraid that if he won’t hold tight enough you’ll get up and leave him for good. He buried his face in your neck and continued to cry harder. He was reduced to a crying mess and shadow of the person he usually portrays himself as. 

“I will never cease to love you, the dearest love of my life.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #fanfic #x reader #imagines #yandere #headcanons #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere simulator #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #reader insert #headcanon #yandere headcanons #male x reader #soft yandere #yandere househusband #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x y/n #drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #s.l.arrows writes <3

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: toxicbf!seungcheol, more like possessivebf!seungcheol honestly, he's kinda a dick but not THAT much, jealousy, possessive behavior, afab reader, reader mentioned to be shorter than him, smut, penetrative sex, public sex, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 2201

a/n: tysm to the person who requested this <3 i didn't make him super toxic but more possessive and annoying.

masterlist

"shit, baby. you look so good. any plans tonight?" seungcheol hugged you from behind as you stared into the mirror, doing the finishing touches on your hair.

'"what do you mean if i have plans? we're going out. to the monthly meeting with the guys, remember? seokmin's girlfriend said she's coming too"

"hmm? since when? wait, hold on. you're wearing that to dinner with the boys?"

you groaned against him, "you literally just said i looked good. what's the problem?", you already kind of had an idea, but wanted to confirm for some dumb reason.

"yeah, that's when i thought you were going out with the girls or something. do you have to dress like this when you hang out with the guys?"

you knew cheol was a bit on the ... possessive side. he would sometimes be a little too jealous when it came to you being around the guys too much (around any guy, really). despite always confirming to him that you would never look at any of them as more than friends, he would still keep his guard up. it was endearing at times, seeing as it was usually just lighthearted jealousy, but he was doing a really good job at pissing you off right now.

you turned around, now facing him directly, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"baby, cmon! they're guys! and you're ... well, you're you!"

"did you want me to repeat myself or are you actually gonna explain what that's supposed to mean now?"

"listen. you're so beautiful. i had no chance at resisting you when we first met. imagine if i'd met you while you were wearing a tiny little black dress. i would've lost my mind. they're men, baby. they're weak-minded. i dont wanna let them even see you like this." despite the stupid neanderthal logic he was feeding you with, his reasoning gave you a slight ego-boost, dissipating your annoyance a bit.

you approached him, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt as you adjusted his tie - today's theme for the monthly meeting had been strictly formal, courtesy of a hong jisoo – and stared into his eyes, flirtatious smile gracing your lips.

"cheollie ... the dress code's formal. and i know how strict you guys are about that. if you can wear those stupid leather pants on stage while performing for carats, – who, by the way, do wanna fuck you – i can wear a tiny little dress around my very platonic friends."

you were pretty sure seungcheol had tuned you out already, at least judging from how distracted his hands had become now that they were kneading your ass under the short skirt of the dress. in any other circumstances you would've entertained him, maybe even let him fuck you before leaving home, but you weren't about to reward his stupid comments from earlier with sex. separating yourself from him, you chided at him, telling him to get ready, because you'd be leaving together; with no need to change your clothes.

~

upon arriving to the restaurant of choice - an entirely rented out luxury restaurant joshua had seemingly been eyeing for a while - you and a sulky seungcheol (he had brought up the dress issue again in the car) quickly spotted a table full of people. it was all twelve members of seventeen, plus joshua's and seokmin's girlfriends, who would also be making their debut appearance at the monthly dinner. as expected, the boys were all wearing suit and tie, while the girls had dresses on. you had to admit, maybe yours was a bit more provocative, but you felt comfortable since you would only be around close friends.

the moment they spotted you walking in, jeonghan took the liberty of standing up, looking you up and down before smirking and giving you a quick hug, even going as far as pulling out a chair for you to sit. you appreciated the gesture, taking a seat and thanking him, completely ignoring seungcheol's annoyed grumble along the lines of 'i'm supposed to do that'.

the dinner went pretty okay after that, with one or two complimentary comments directed at your apparel. you'd also noticed a few of the boys staring a bit more than usual, but you'd dressed up, after all, so it wasn't very surprising to you. seungcheol, on the other hand, grew more and more annoyed every time a member directed themselves to you, even if it was with innocent intentions. he had built an idea in his head that everyone mustve wanted you the way that he wanted you. it also didn't help that you were sitting right by jeonghan and mingyu, members who were renown for being a bit flirtier than the rest. you knew it was just in their nature, and completely meaningless when directed towards you, but you could feel your boyfriend's fumes increase next to you as the night went on.

after a while seungcheol had begun to speak over you, acting as if you couldn't respond or interact with his members on your own. he was beginning to show his annoyingly possessive side, acting overly overprotective over you, almost as if you were a prize to keep under lock and key.

there were only a few instances in which he did this. he could sometimes act like a dick about it, wanting to show the rest of the guys how you were his and no one else's

then came what broke the camel's back. yoon jeonghan must've sensed some tension in seuncheol's behavior, adding two and two and figuring out that his possessive friend must've been feeling some type of way at any attention headed your way. so, he decided to have fun with it, amping up his flirting.

"shit, have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?," he smirked, eyeing his friend a bit as he complimented you.

"yeah, but maybe don't say that to my girlfriend, yeah?", interjected your stupid boyfriend, hand on your thigh as he attempted to show possession over you.

you ignored him, "oh, thanks hannie. you look really handsome too."

he puffed, as if out of breath, also ignoring cheol's comment, "no, but really. that dress is ... man, all i know is if i were seungcheol we wouldn't have even left the house tonight," the smirk wouldn't leave his face, knowing he was poking a bear.

those two simple comments were enough to get seungcheol to snap, loudly getting up and interrupting any other conversation going on at the table. without any other word, he completely ignored any questioning stares or inquiring comments and grabbed your hand, dragging you from your own chair and pulling you away from the room and into a more secluded area of the almost-empty restaurant.

"seungcheol what the hell are you doing?!"

he turned to you, now letting go of the hand he'd been pulling, "i told you not to wear that around them! do you think i enjoyed that?!"

"it's just jeonghan, cheol! he doesn't mean anything by it. he was just trying to tease you."

"i dont care about that! you're mine. you're not supposed to show yourself off like this to other men!" the fact he didn't see issue with what he was saying was peeving you off, making you scoff at him before he continued.

"you're mine, okay? and you responding to han's flirting is not helping me get that point across to them."

"you-"

"no, let me finish," he moved closer to you the more he spoke, eventually having you pinned against the wall of the restaurant, looking down on you, "i won't have any of them even think they have a chance with you. no one does. you're mine. is that understood?" by now his lips were just a hair away from your ear, heavy breath fanning against you as his hands slid onto your waist, pulling you against him, dick already semi-hard under his slacks.

you hated the way he was talking to you. kind of. an embarrassing part of yourself was keening on his possessiveness, enjoying how he felt as if he had to stake claim over you. as if even one look from another man had him having to show the world you were his and his alone.

when he unglued his lips from your ear and went back to staring down at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, neither of you could help yourselves anymore. you might've kissed him first, but it was probably him who crashed his lips into you first, almost swallowing you whole as he attacked you by shoving his tongue in your mouth.

he became intense with his movements pretty quickly, unbuttoning his pants with one hand while the other harshly felt you up. he disconnected his hand from you for a moment in order to pull down his pants and knead at his cock for a few moments, getting himself ready for you.

he disconnected your lips, chuckling at the way yours chased after his, "get on your knees."

with zero type of dignity, you got on your knees with no question, beginning to slide your hand up and down his dick before wrapping your mouth around his tip and sucking, giving him eyes as you did so.

he groaned at the sight, but quickly recovered, barking out a command for you to be a well-behaved girl and take it all in your mouth. you followed instruction pretty quickly, loving the weight of his cock in your mouth.

"that's it ... knew you could be a good girl after all."

"fuck ... that mouth is all mine, right baby? only for me to choke on my cock .."

"take it deeper, i know you can. trained that pretty mouth to take me."

his words were getting you wetter by the second, moaning mindlessly against his dick as he began to thrust into your mouth, groaning out even more expletives.

he suddenly pulled you away without allowing you to suck him into completion, once more slamming your back against the wall and shoving his tongue in your mouth. you both groaned at the feeling of his taste in your tongue, eventually making the kiss become a mess of wet tongues just licking at one another while he ground his hard dick against you.

you cried against him after a while of dry humping, feeling the heat of his cock so close to where you wanted him, but your mind being too empty for you to even beg for him to put it inside you.

he pulled away, "are you gonna be good and let me have that pretty pussy? my pretty pussy?"

all you could do was nod and whine against him as he pulled your panties aside, only having to lift your dress a tiny bit to give him room to enter your warm walls. you both sighed out in pleasure the moment he entered you, with cheol quickly finding a rhythm that had you throwing your head back against the wall, not caring for any pain you felt at the impact.

"you're mine. do you understand that? no one else can have you. can't even look at you. tell me you understand." he paused for a moment, smirking as he knew you had no way to respond with the pace in which he was slamming himself against you, "what? no answer? baby, what'd i tell you about being a good girl?" he was mocking you now, relishing on the effect he had on you.

"c-cheollie ... y-yours! just yours! won't ev-ever look their way again. pro- ah! promise!" you did the best you could to muster out an answer, being too high on pleasure from the way his cock was repeatedly hitting against you, impaling you completely.

your emotions were already very heightened, causing the two of you to be quick to reach your ends.

"gonna fill you up, okay baby? and you're gonna keep it all in, or else imma have to take you home and do it all over again, yeah?" he groaned out, knowing he was about to blow his load any second now.

"y-yes! fill me up, please!"

a few thrusts later and he was burying his head in the crook of your neck, groaning out at the feeling of your walls tightening against him as you came.

you attempted to catch your breath as seungcheol used his fingers to push in any cum that exited your hole, moving your panties back into place to try and retain the most he could. with no warning, he shoved those same fingers in your mouth, making you suck his essence from them as he groaned at the sight.

"c'mon," he gave you no time to catch your breath or recover before dragging you by the hand once more, walking back to the table to pick up your coats.

"i'm taking her home now. yoon jeonghan, i'll deal with you later," and with that he dragged you away, making no effort to hide your disheveled state as you limped behind him, beyond embarrassed all your friends knew what you and your boyfriend had been up to.

if cheol had wanted to make a public service announcement about how much you were his, he had achieved it.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen smut #seventeen oneshot #svt smut #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #scoups #scoups smut #scoups x reader #scoups oneshot #scoups fanfic #scoups scenarios #seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol smut

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

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Pt. 3: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara

[nothorses]

I think the word "power" tends to get kind of abstracted in conversations about oppression, and I think the scale of this also makes it difficult to get this idea across. So I'm gonna explain with a microcosm:

You start a small business with two friends.

When making decisions about the business, you all meet together.

Eventually, the business grows enough that you need more employees. You include all of them in the meetings, because all of them want a say in the decisions that impact them.

But as the business continues to grow, this gets a little out of hand.

You decide it's time to scale it back.

Now it's just you and your co-founders making decisions again. You still have all those people working for you, of course- you're just making decisions for them instead of with them.

When it comes time to adjust salaries, well... suddenly, there aren't twenty people advocating for a fair and even split. In fact, nobody else even knows what the budget is. You could just give yourselves more money than they get, and none of them would even know about it.

So that's exactly what you do.

One day, you and your friends have a falling-out... and you remember that while you're all co-founders, all the paperwork actually says that you're the owner. So you fire them.

You have to hire replacements, of course, but you don't know these people, and they don't need to know any more than the rest of the staff. You take the excess from their salaries that your friends were collecting, and add it to your own salary.

Now you're making double what you used to, and nobody can do anything about it- because nobody else is in the meeting room with you. Nobody else has any decision-making power.

The more staff you employ, the bigger the company grows, and the more money you make.

If you were to include anyone in that meeting room, you'd just be dividing up your power again- and probably your money, too. It's in your best interest to continue to exclude everyone you can.

Here's the thing: oppression is based around excluding people. Oppression literally cannot work with any kind of inclusive principles.

Inclusion means dividing power; not just money or whatever other resources, but the decision-making power that allows oppressors to maintain their status in the first place. It's in the best interest of the oppressor to exclude everyone they possibly can; which is why definitions of oppressor classes tend to be so narrow and hyper-conditional.

It's also why exclusionary movements within activist spaces are so counter-productive. People claim to be protecting vulnerable groups, but even with the best of intentions, this only ever perpetuates the overarching oppressive systems: they are recreating those oppressive systems, validating their logic, and leaving people who deserve a voice in the decisions that impact them out in the cold- and all it does is benefit the few who remain included. For now.

#theory

[marlynnofmany]

The Good Perch

“You would think,” Captain Sunlight said drily, “That a spaceport organized enough to have a whole section for courier ships would have a more visible labeling system.”

“Yeah, really,” I agreed with a frown at the small sign marking our ship’s berth. The thing was barely ankle-height and a thin font. Not even a bright color; it hardly stood out from the pavement in its gray-and-black subtlety. With all the spacefarers parading past in a rainbow of body types and clothing styles, not to mention the equally wild spaceships everywhere, those signs were easy to miss. I asked the captain, “Have you been here before? Is this normal, or did the wrong person take charge of designing things?”

“It’s been a while,” said Captain Sunlight, crossing her scaly arms. “I don’t recall this being a problem before. But I suspect our wayward client is still wandering the walkways looking for us.”

“Normally I’d say our ship would stand out, but the visibility’s not great for that either.” Lemon-shaped spaceships with foldable solar sails were pretty uncommon. The one parked behind us would have been easy to spot from a distance if not for the larger ships looming close on either side. These berths were too close together.

Captain Sunlight pulled her phone out of a belt pouch. “Still says they’re on the way.”

“Maybe we need to scoot forward a bit?” I suggested. “Make the ship easier to see?” I stepped up to the walkway for a better look at the view from there.

This turned out to give someone else a better view of me.

“Hey, person who climbs things!” called a cheerful voice. “Come help me brace this.”

After a confused half-second, I located the speaker on top of the gray-brown ship next to ours. I realized with a start that this wasn’t the first time our ships had been parked side-by-side. “Hey, Acorn!” I called back. “Are you waiting for clients too?”

“We were,” the fellow courier called back, waving something that looked like a wrench. She herself still looked like a baboon crossed with a crocodile. “Now it’s time for errands and maintenance, and this needs fixing before we get back into space. Care to give me a hand? Everybody else is either busy or too much of a coward to get up this high.”

“Sure thing!” I said with a glance at Captain Sunlight, who was waving me on. “What’s the best way up?”

Acorn directed me to a row of handholds on the other side of the ship, which made for a nice easy climb. A pity her crewmates didn’t appreciate heights; the spaceport was a beautiful, chaotic sprawl of color from here. And the top of the ship was flat enough to feel plenty safe.

“Welcome to the good perch,” Acorn said, offering me a wrench. “It’s a very exclusive club. Can you hold this part in place so I can adjust that?”

“Absolutely,” I told her. “This end, right? Wait, got it.” I actually had no idea what this open panel was for, but I like to think I hid it well. The job was a simple one with two of us. I could see how it would have been awkward with just one, though. I wondered if she’d resorted to using her feet to hold things in place. I sure would have.

“Got it!” she said. “Now to close it all up. I knew that would be quick.”

I removed the wrench. “What’s the saying? More hands means less work?”

“Makes sense to me. Though by that logic, your friend there could get everything done by himself.”

I looked down to see that Mur had joined Captain Sunlight, in all his many-tentacled squidlike glory. “He probably could, actually. Though I don’t know how he is with heights.”

“Well, no need to share the good perch,” Acorn announced, snapping the panel shut. She spread her arms. “Look at this panorama!”

“It is a nice one! I was just thinking that. What kind of ship is that blobby green one over there? I haven’t seen it before.”

Acorn stood up for a better look. “I think it’s a Waterwill design?”

“That makes sense.” I got to my feet too, glad the ship we stood on wasn’t one of the shiny racer models. Those were much too slippery to make good sightseeing towers.

Not that Acorn seemed bothered either way. She probably would have found grippy shoes somewhere and run up the side just to prove she could. Her appreciation for climbing had been a nice change the first time I ran into her, and was no different now, given how much time I spent among alien crewmates who didn’t have tree-swinging monkeys in their family trees.

“That ship looks like it would make an excellent climbing structure,” she said, pointing at a pink model with grooves along the sides. “Pity it belongs to a security force who are likely to be uptight about such things.”

I laughed. “Isn’t that always the way of it? There’s a police station in my hometown with a roof that slopes down to meet a very climbable wall, and you have no idea how tempting it looked. Well. Maybe you know.”

She definitely understood, and we spent an enjoyable few minutes talking about which buildings and spaceships looked like the most fun to climb.

Then I spotted someone wandering from one berth marker to the next, looking both lost and a little nearsighted, and I had a suspicion that I’d found our missing client. This was a fellow human wearing the kind of drapey clothes that spoke of dignity and no little wealth. Her expression was exactly the kind I’d wear if I had to deal with those hard-to-read signs long enough to be late.

“Hey Captain!” I called down to Sunlight. “Is that her?” I pointed.

Captain Sunlight hurried forward with her phone out, matching the look of the person with an image there.

Yup. Called it.

Acorn chuckled while the pair of them exchanged greetings and complaints about the station layout. “Nice one. The wisdom of the heights strikes again. Do they need you down there now?”

“Probably,” I said. “Actually not yet, this package is a small one. Mur’s got it.” As I spoke, Mur pushed a hovercart forward with a box on it liberally covered in “fragile” stickers. It had a carrying handle on the top, which it had come with, and rubber bumpers on every corner, which Paint had added just to be safe. All precautions had been taken.

“Oh good,” Acorn said. “Then enjoy the view with me a little longer.” She bent to pull something from the toolbag’s side pocket. “Top-of-the-tree snack?”

“Are those the ones you’re named for?” I asked, remembering a conversation the last time I’d seen her. Translations being what they were, her name meant a similar nut from her homeworld. It had been an amusing conversation, since we were both named after things found in trees. She didn’t know what a robin was, but once I explained it, she claimed to have met a number of people back home with similar names.

“Yes, the salted version,” Acorn said, opening the bag. “I recall these were on the safe list for your species.”

“Safe and tasty,” I agreed. “Thank you.” I accepted a handful of alien acorns and marveled quietly at how universal salt was on snacks. Well, for some species. I don’t think Waterwills or Strongarms were that into overly salty food in general. Probably for slug-like reasons. Eggskin the medic would know. I should ask him later.

Acorn peered over the other side of the ship. “Ohh, Riverbrook’s wearing his goofy helmet. I owe him some acoustics since he played that loud music while I was working.” She crouched, peering down at a crewmate who had just emerged. With care, she selected a nut from the bag. “Think you can thwack him from here?” The grin she threw over her shoulder was full of teeth.

I joined her at the edge. “I like my odds.”

The crewmate was one of those people made of crystals instead of flesh. I forget the species name. Very interesting to look at, and unlikely to be hurt by a high velocity acorn no matter where it hit. The helmet was golden, shiny, and probably a fashion statement of some kind.

“First we throw, then we hide.”

“Got it.”

“One, two, throw!”

Ping! Ping!

“Ow, what was — Acorn, is this yours?!”

We both giggled in childlike glee, just out of sight.

“No thanks, you can have it!” Acorn called back.

“I’m going to put this in your fruit drink next mealtime.”

“Good luck with that!”

I nodded. “Ah, a prank war. A noble pursuit.”

“See, you get it.” Acorn offered me more nuts.

I took them and made myself more comfortable. “I don’t suppose you know what a rattlesnake is?”

“Nope.”

“Then let me tell you about the time I got Trrili — the big scary Mesmer on my ship — with a classic prank from Earth.”

“Oh, do tell!”

I didn’t have to get back to my ship for a few minutes yet, which left plenty of time for more anecdotes and snacks on the good perch.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eidw #writblr #writeblr #science fiction #that bit about the police station is true btw #not my hometown but a nearby one #I first saw that bit of architecture when I was actively doing parkour on a weekly basis #its existence haunts me #they say to write what you know #I have also thrown acorns at people from up a tree #that's good fun #and the rattlesnake prank is from that other story #'What’s a Minor Heart Attack Between Friends?' #also good fun

[onskepa]

Hi hi hi!!

Can i get neteyam x human reader? Let's say she was jake's teammate back on earth before he lost his legs. And they had some cool nicknames for each of them. Jake calls her 'bullet' (or anything else you want) and she calls him 'marine' (the way grace always called him) or 'mermaid' (to mock him. Idk you chose). When quaritch appears and kidnaps the kids, she's there too fighting along with him. But she doesn't know these are Jake's kids. When she finds out, she sides with them and saves the kids. At first, Neteyam hated her because initially she sided with quaritch. I need them to have the 'enemies to lovers' trop

Hello sweetie! So I went over your request a couple times. While I love your idea, I hope you dont mind if I did some adjustments to it. Reader will most likely be the same age as Jake, meaning she will be old enough to be a parent herself. So, I thought if it is ok to have it be platonic instead of romantic. I hope you are ok and understand the change of it. Hope you can enjoy this one!

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Swaxpi

The natural sunlight of Pandora blinded the marine for a few seconds. Blinking a couple of times to adjust the sudden brightness. Here she was, in the far away planet that is the ideal of new human colonization. And by god, is Pandora beautiful, almost makes her wanna cry. But she came with a new mission and goals. Now arriving and being assigned under the group section following ex-colonel Quaritch. 

After hearing the news of Jake Sully now considered a traitor to human kind, the marine now needed answers. It isn't like him to just act out like that. There has to be some logical reason. Seeing as he has gone native, it will be tricky to find him. But hopeful with her new position, finding Jake sully will be easier. Hopefully. 

“Our mission is to hunt down the one they call Toruko Makto, Jake Sully” Quaritch gives a brief description of their new mission. Marine stood out among the rest of her ‘squad’ as everyone else literally is 4 feet taller than her and blue. Though she paid close attention, she couldn't help but feel weird. 

But now that the squad is heading out, to look for him in the forest to look for him. And while no success, they did find the old shack at the last battle that Jake had with human Quaritch. Not only that, but to see the last minutes of the fighting in a recorded camera of the old armor, the marine almost didn't recognize jake. He looked feral and angry. 

“That is Jake’s woman” one of the members points out the female na’vi in the recording. “She is an animal,” the other commented. In a way, she did. 

But then suddenly, with a turn of her head she looks at the direction of the forest. “You see something soldier?” Quaritch asks, noticing her looking out. Giving a quick look around her, she shakes her head. “No sir, nothing” she replies. 

Though, she could have sworn she heard a voice. Somewhere near a distance.

The surprise attack was indeed surprising. The recom team captured four na’vi children and one human child. Yet two of the four na’vi children have five fingers and eyebrows, indicating they are mixed. 

“Show me your fingers” Quaritch demanded one of the children, and without hesitation, the young boy flipped his middle fingers up at Quaritch’s face. It made the man grin, but the marine almost wanted to laugh. Why does it remind her so much of jake? 

“You’re his alright” Quaritch comments. The marine girl blinked a few times. Are they Jake’s kids? 

Quaritch takes off the mic neck piece from the child and turns it on. And out comes a voice the marine woman thought she would never hear in a long time. 

“Lo’ak? Lo'ak, do you read me?” Jake Sully. Sounding alive and well. And it seems Quairtch knows it too. Shit, if the kids really are his, it will make the situation tense and anything could go wrong. Yet she is the enemy to them. What on Pandora is she gonna do? Be part of the reason for hurting her best friend's kids or will she go rogue? 

Guns were pointed at the children's heads, neither recom hesitating to be rough on the kids. Especially the little one. “Really sir? They are just kids” the marine girl spoke, her eyes narrowing at her commander. Quaritch shook his head dismissively. “They are the spawn of the traitor. They are valuable so long as they dont do anything rash” he responds. 

She is not liking every second of it. 

The youngest child yelps in pain as the one holding her was causing her pain. “Easy! Damn, let me have her” she tells the big blue off. She grabs the youngest in her hold, still being strong but hopefully softer than how the other was holding. The recom walks away in annoyance. The child however was close to crying. Leaning closer to her ear, the marine whispers “ssshh, its going to be ok. Your dad will come save you soon. I need you to be a big girl and be strong”. 

It sort of seemed to work. Now to figure out how to help the other literal big kids without having her head blown off. She can only hope Jake can get his blue ass faster.

It was night but it was perfect for neteyam and his parents. Yes, they told him to stay put and not move. But how could he stay still when his siblings are in the hands of the enemy? Following quietly, neteyam hid among the large plants, letting the darkness cover him. 

Getting closer, he can see those false na’vi holding down his siblings. He looks and sees tuk, scared yet calm. A human woman was holding her from behind. Narrowing his eyes, neteyam wonders why there is a single human in an all blue team. It won't matter, she along with the others will die. 

So being quick, he managed to kill one false na’vi, however he exposed himself. 

“NA’VI!” one of the recom shouts. Just in time jake catches neteyam and pushes him down to the ground, avoid a flood of bullets. Neteyam knows he will be in big trouble later, but it will be worth it. 

The marine knows she will be in serious trouble later but right now it will be worth it. 

Bullets and arrows were flying around, taking a moment to use it, the marine woman took out one of her bombs and yanked off the ring. Throwing it in the center of where everyone was at. Quickly counting how many seconds she has, the marine grabs the kids and yanks them to a certain direction. 

“Go go go go!!” was all she yelled, pushed the youngest first to the direction where she saw the na’vi. The others followed as she did, counting the time the bomb exploded. Bodies flying all around. The light from the bomb gave her enough sight to see where she was going. However, it was too good of an escape. A sudden and quick sharp pain was felt on her leg. But she couldn't stop to see what it was. Mostly likely she has been shot. By why? It doesn't matter at the moment. 

“MARINE!” she heard quaritch shout. Not looking back she continues to guide the kids deeper into the darkness. 

Until a giant blue body tumbled her to the ground, blade against her neck.

Neteyam hissed dangerously at the unknown woman who kept touching his siblings. He raised his arm ready to kill the woman once and for all. 

“STOP!” kiri shouted, grabbing his arm, forcefully trying to take the blade away from him. Lo’ak also forcefully neteyam to back off from the woman. He looked at them in confusion. “She didn't hurt us! If anything she made sure those killers didn't hurt us any further” kiri was quick to explain. Lo’ak nodded, “yeah, she calmed tuk down and made sure she didn't cry '' he added. 

Tuk wasn't far, “she is really nice! Not like those killers' '. 

Neteyam looked down at the human who was still laying flat on the ground. “Listen, I understand you want to end me. But I am not your enemy. I know I looked like it, but trust me-” the lady’s words were cut by the worried shriek of a female na’vi. 

The kids turned around and saw their parents approaching. Quickly they all ran towards them and hugging them for dear life. Weeping and crying, the parents hugging their children as they sigh in huge relief. “My children! oh thank eywa, you are all safe!” the female na’vi says. After the kids were being checked over, the marine took a good look at the male na’vi. Looked a lot like the recom blues, but also a native. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when the oldest son yanked her up and pushed her rather roughly towards the parents. “The human was there with the demons, holding tuk against her will” Neteyam states. Anger still present. 

“She is not like them!” Tuk protests. Eager to go side with the human woman but jake wasn't letting her. “Please, she didn't want to hurt us,” Kiri adds. Neytiri was ready to kill the human, but Jake gently placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Getting right at the marine’s face, mad yet confused.       

The marine couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle, “long time no see little miss damsel” she says. 

“No fucking way….”

Neteyam didn't know what to feel. One moment his father was ready to kill the human, and now his father was happy and rough housing with the demon. His mother was just as confused as he was. His younger siblings however were happy and enjoyed playing with the human. Maybe it was so late into the night, maybe the thrill was dying down and he was just hungry and tired. 

Yet he cant help but not trust the human woman. How can his father have him accept the demon who held a weapon near his baby sister? Sometimes he understands his mother more. 

“And this I dunked him in the orange liquid! Oh you should have seen his face! He looked like a shaking, crusty chihuahua!” The marine woman was retelling a funny memory to Jake's family. While the kids laughed, neytiri trying to remain a stoic face couldn't help but crack a smile. 

Jake looked like he wanted to die on the spot. 

“Oh yeah? What about that one time when we were in Guatemala? You were so drunk that you were flirting with that bartender” Jake smirks as he recalls another memory from their shared past. The woman blushed but also looking ashamed. “Not my proudest moment,” she confessed. 

“Swaxpi is so funny! I hope she stays with us” tuk giggles as neteyam tucks her in bed hammock. Neteyam gave a surprised look, “why?” he asks. Tuk shrugs, “I like her!”. Shaking his head, he gives her a kiss on the forehead and leaves. 

He was tired but not sleepy, so much has happened in the few short hours. He needed some time alone. So he quietly leaves his family’s hut and out to the nearby area. Silence was perfect. 

Until it wasn't 

Seems like the human woman was also in the same area neteyam wanted to be in. Neteyam grabs his blade by instinct, observing her move in case she does something. “Calm down kid, I will be gone soon” the human woman explains. 

She turns around and her eyes meeting his. 

“Come here, I could use some company,” she says. 

Huffing in annoyance, neteyam walks over to her and sits near a branch, keeping distance from her. It didn't bother the woman. From what Jake told her, his oldest son is more cautious of possible danger and tends to be alarmed often. 

“Swaxpi, your siblings and your mother have started calling me that, I'm not very well educated on your language, so what does it mean? I hope nothing too mean” the woman asks.  Yes, neteyam has also noticed that too. Mostly tuk and lo’ak calling the odd woman hat name. But hearing that his mother calls her that too was very surprising. 

“It means family member…” neteyam replies slowly. 

The woman humms at that. Seeming more relaxed, swaxpi makes herself comfortable on a branch. “I like it, but I find it odd. I only have met all of you in less that a day, was part of a enemy squad, exposing some of your father’s embarrassing secrets and now look. Already seeing me as family-” 

“I don't, you are a demon no matter what. A killer.” Neteyam cuts her off. 

Swaxpi lowered her gaze, her smile faltering a bit. “Call me what you like neteyam, but never call me a killer. Yes, I joined the RDA. Yes I have held weapons. But never ever have I taken a life. Human nor na’vi. I never brought death to anyone” Swaxpi calmly defends herself. 

Long minutes have passed and neither spoke a word. 

“They can call you swaxpi all they want. But in my eyes, you are nothing to me” neteyam declares. Almost trying to convince himself more than the human. The woman however lets her lips grow back into a smile. “Sure neteyam, whatever you say” she replies. 

Yes, neteyam will never call her Swaxpi or anything endearing towards her. She is nothing to him, nothing. 

But if she is nothing to him, why does it feel wrong? 

This took too long that I would like. BUT! I hope you all liked this one. And also hope you guys understand the changes I made. So, until next time! See ya!

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Swaxpi = Family member

#avatar #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi avatar #avatar 2 #na'vi x human #neteyam sully #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x you #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc #jake sully x you #jake sully #jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #jake sully x y/n

[gentlyweeps-world]

Confessions

summary: You and Logan open up after some alcohol.

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, none

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

It was well known that you and Logan liked each other, at least it was well known between your friend group.

The longing glances in crowded rooms, shy smiles being shared, always ending up besides one another, always being fidgety around each other, truly the list goes on.

You didn’t pick up on any of it, mostly focused on the fact that “he’s a Formula One driver, why would he ever be interested in me”.

“You know that’s bullshit right?” Your friend Stella says, moving around the bathroom as she adjusts her hair and makeup.

“Well I think it’s perfectly reasonable and logical..” You grumble out, rolling your eyes at her.

It was summer break, your friends and you free from University, and Logan free from Formula One for a tiny while, and with that your friend group decided why not rent out a cabin in the woods with a pool. Wanting to relax and party, let loose as some would say.

“Listen to yourself Y/n! You are completely delusional!” Your other friend, Morgan says, leaning against the door frame to the bathroom. “If I had those situations with a guy you’d be screaming at me to wake up and realize we’re perfect together..” She adds on.

After a moment of silence you finally reply, “Fair point..” You say with a small sight, touching up your own hair and makeup.

“Well I think we look hot so let’s go out and drink!” Stella says with a cheer, ushering you and Morgan outside and to the fire pit, where the other guys were waiting, beers and seltzers at the ready.

Chairs were situated around the fire pit, obviously, you take a seat next to Logan, gratefully accepting the seltzer he handed you.

“So how do you think this night will end?” He asks with a grin, glancing at you then back to the flaming fire, taking a drink of his beer.

“Hmm, Morgan and Dalton will end up hooking up again and…” You say pausing, looking around at your friends laughing and drinking around the fire, “Stella will end up relentlessly flirting with Oliver..” You finish with a grin.

“Honestly..not a bad guess..” He says with a grin and chuckle, eyes twinkling as he looks at you. Now of course you didn’t realize the way he looked at you, “So..how’s the racing life treating you?” You ask, as if you hadn’t been invited and gone to some Grand Prixs and didn’t stalk his social media.

“To be honest, this break is welcomed, and just needed.” He replies, sipping on his beer and looking at you. You give him a soft smile, knowing the truth behind his words. “It’ll let up, I know it will..” You say softly, “Anyway- let’s talk about something fun!” You add on.

“Like what? You know there isn’t much other than racing and cars to me.” He grins.

“You’re boring..” You grumble out jokingly, “Any girls in your life now that you’re a hot shot in F1?” You ask teasingly, truly just wanting to know.

Even if you asked your friends many times, and they’ve said he isn’t seeing anyone, you still needed to hear it from him. “Well..” He pauses for a moment, deciding to make you sweat just a bit. “Not currently..but there’s potential in someone, I think.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Well I won’t grill you for any more information then..” You say with a smile, drinking your seltzer.

———

Hours have passed now, you and Logan are the only two out in front of the fire now, alcohol flowing through your veins as you and Logan giggle and laugh, sharing stories back from high school.

“You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh.” The comment slips out so easy it surprises even Logan. “Damn it..I mean..” He pauses for a moment before chuckling.

You could notice his face flushing up, dimples on show as he awkwardly smiles and chuckles. “Well- you’re pretty handsome when you laugh..” You say drunkenly with a grin.

“Wait- do you remember when we were younger and- and we were having a sleep over- which why did our parents let us do that? Anyway! During that night you had fallen asleep on my shoulder- you looked so cute like that..” You mumble out, slurring your words as you smile thinking back on that memory.

“Are you saying I can still be cute..?” He asks teasingly, smirk on his lips as his cheeks are turning a soft pink. “Well yes of course that’s a stupid question..” You say, rolling your eyes.

There was a beat of silence, you could only make out the crackling fire, crickets and owls in the background. “Can I kiss you?” Logan asks hurriedly, with not much thought behind his words.

Although it was a simple question, it had left you stunned. Eyes wide and lips parted. You could make out the instant regret on his face, “Shit- I’m sorry Y/n..pretend I didn’t say that” He rushes out, regret and disappointment clear in his eyes.

“Yes..yes you can kiss me..” You speak up finally, shock and surprise wearing off.

Logan didn’t have time to think because he leans forward rapidly, his fingertips touching your cheeks and his other hand making its way to the back of your head as his lips press up against yours. He kisses you gently, wanting to take you up in his arms right now but he knows that would be going too far.

“Sorry I took so long to do that..” He murmurs between kisses, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close.

“It’s okay..you’re doing it now..” You whisper out, moving to a more comfortable position, and tangling your fingers into his blonde hair.

Logan lets out a moan of content, placing his forehead against yours and letting himself be lost in the moment.

“Mhmm..” He whispers softly, his hands roaming along your back and down to your waist. “I have wanted to do this for so long....”

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” You ask, eyes sparkling with admiration as you look at him.

The words are still slurred due to the alcohol and it’s effects are strong right now. “I wanted to, trust me.” He responds, eyes never leaving yours. “But I was worried your would have laughed at me and rejected me..” He replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. It was a valid reason, yet you would have never rejected him.

“Logan I’ve liked you since grade school..I wouldn’t have rejected you..” You say with a soft smile. “You liked me back..?” He asks with a shocked tone to his voice, his smile widening. “I guess I missed all of the signs you threw at me.” Logan laughs, kissing you again then resting his forehead against yours, you could feel his heat radiating against your skin.

“We both definitely missed the signs..” You say with a giggle, your body warm and tingling, not just because of the alcohol.

“Maybe we’re both just idiots.” He says laughing, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you as close as he can. Logan is enjoying this moment, and it is obvious that you are as well. You could feel his breath against your skin, his fingers tracing along your back ever so gently.

“Definitely..” You murmur out in content, happy the pieces finally came together.

“Let’s go Logan! Woo!!” You could hear Dalton cheer from the cabin. You and Logan look at each other with sheepish grins and flushed faces.

Logan gives you a grin, taking your hand and standing up with you. “Oh god that idiot..” He shrugs it off as he pulls you along to the cabin.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: A little Logan fic for you guys! Send in any requests or comments! 💙

#formula one #formula 1 #forumla 1 #logan sargeant #formula 1 x reader #f1 #williams f1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one fic #williams formula 1 #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant x y/n #logan sargeant x you #logie sarge #williams racing #f1 wags #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #gently weeps fics #gently weeps

[weirdmarioenemies]

I am going to like totally finally finish ranking the Mario galaxies today. Stop Me.

Thank you for you're patience. We can talk about the top 5 galaxies now

I'm not gonna bother with any prelude, you've waited for this for like years now I know you want the Goods so here you go!

5. Blue Grass Galaxy

Tier: S+ Debut: Super Mario Galaxy 2

Blue Grass Galaxy is quite possibly the most elusive galaxy in the series. It was shown off briefly in the first ever Super Mario Galaxy 2 trailer, but when the game came out, it seemed like it was nowhere to be seen... Not even datamining could find it!

But as it turned out, we just weren't looking hard enough, because if you manage to grab every Green Star as Mario in a single sitting in under two hours without losing a single life, and then beat the Perfect Run, also without losing a single life, you unlock... A series of Red Stars for each Galaxy! And once you collect all of those in under an hour as Luigi without losing any lives, once again followed by another perfect Perfect Run, you unlock a bonus Hungry Luma on the World Map, who needs to be fed 9999 Star Bits on all three save files (so have fun speedrunning the green and red stars again!) before finally transforming into the Blue Grass Galaxy.

Of course, because the files for the Blue Grass Galaxy weren't included in the game, you'd need to download it by using a special, randomly-generated code on the Wii Shop Channel, but once you finally did, you could finally play the Blue Grass Galaxy to your heart's content. I know it might seem like quite the grind to get here, but man, every second you spend in the Blue Grass Galaxy is so immaculate, it makes the whole grind worth it. I almost don't have the words to describe how good it is, you'd really need to experience it for yourself! Sadly, you can't anymore, ever since the Wii Shop Channel shut down... Ah well. You really had to be there, I guess. I know some people were disappointed by it just reusing the Puzzle Plank Galaxy music, but I love that music so much that I don't mind.

My only gripe with the galaxy, and the main reason it only landed in the #5 spot, is because of the name. They called it the "Blue Grass" Galaxy, but that grass is very clearly green. This might seem like a pretty petty reason to put it so low, but when you get up that high, the small things can make a big difference, you know? If they called it the "Green Grass Galaxy" or the "Blue Sky Galaxy," I could easily imagine it getting the #1 spot, but respectable effort nonetheless, and a worthy reward for Super Players.

4. Wet-Dry World

Tier: SS Game: Super Mario 64

I know what you may be thinking. "What could Wet-Dry World be doing on a list of Super Mario Galaxies?" Well, it's a World in a 3D Mario platformer where you can collect Power Stars. Need I say more? And ever since Throwback Galaxy confirmed Whomp's Fortress is a Galaxy, it's easy to extend this logic to the rest of Super Mario 64. So Wet-Dry World gets to make the top 5 also.

I mean, how would it not? It's a galaxy with a cool and unique gimmick! The idea of the height you enter at deciding the water level when you enter in is super cool, and I love all the ways they tie this gimmick into the galaxy's different missions. And while this might seem like a small thing to a lot of people, as a mod of Weird Mario Enemies, I can't help myself: I will ALWAYS love a galaxy that includes such memorable enemies as Chuckya and Skeeter! So Cool!

Even in a time before Super Mario Galaxy, they managed to get the "otherworldly" feeling of this location down pat! I mean, there's the fact the skybox is distinctively underwater, even when you're on dry land, there's the fact the way you adjust the water level is via these abstract crystals, there's the whole abandoned underwater city, giving hints as to long-gone civilizations and possible Wet-Dry World Lore, this galaxy has it all! I know some people say it has a Negative Emotional Aura, but those people just don't know the meaning of good atmosphere.

3. SNES Mario Circuit 3

Tier: Good Debut: Super Mario Kart

For the #3 slot, it should only make sense that it's a place with "3" in the name. I know lots of you were probably expecting SNES Bowser Castle 3 to end up here, but it's just hard for me to ignore SNES Mario Circuit 3's legacy. I mean, it's been in five different games for crying out loud! It's hard for a course to show up in five games if it's not really good, right?

SNES Mario Circuit 3 may seem like a really basic course at a glance, what with it being completely flat and everything. Not a lot of bells and whistles in this one, that's for sure. But a better look at it reveals it to be a surprisingly technical track, with some tight turns that require good brake drifting to take optimally, and a bevy of off-road shortcuts that reward players for good item usage. While lots of courses get by thanks to their flashy gimmicks and setpieces, SNES Mario Circuit 3 cements itself as a fan-favorite as a pure test of players' skill. I mean, again, I have to assume it's a fan-favorite if it's in five games.

I also need to give a shoutout to SNES Mario Circuit 3's Atmosphere. The course has hardly changed at all since its original incarnation on the SNES, making it like, totally retro, and the staircases and flagpoles representing the original Super Mario Bros. only help to cement that identity. It also gives the course a very unique, almost liminal sort of feeling. The yellow sky is also an interesting touch. Is it merely set at sunset, or is it a biting commentary on how 30 years of go-karting have caused enough pollution to change the color of the sky? I'll let you be the judge.

Either way, it makes sense why this course has cemented itself as such a fan-favorite, and manages to always get picked in Mario Kart 8 Deluxe online lobbies. It's just that Good!

2. Milky Way Galaxy

Tier: X Game: Real

i live here hi!!!!!! :D

1. Sling Pod Galaxy

Tier: The "S" is for "Slingpodgalaxy" Game: Super Mario Galaxy

It's always the ones you least expect who win in the end... I may have ranked it dead last when I started this series, but by using the momentum of the Sling Pods, it managed to slingshot itself allllll the way to the top! Bet you didn't see this one coming! But really, it should be obvious. This galaxy is an incredible test of timing and precision, offering a good challenge for skilled players, and with an aesthetic reminiscent of the beautiful Space Junk Galaxy, it ends up winning me over in more ways than one!

There's no question that as soon as you have enough Star Bits saved up to reach Sling Pod Galaxy that you should make a mad dash to the Fountain and shove them all into that Hungry Luma's mouth, because the Sling Pod Galaxy is an experience you'll never forget! And since it's a great place to farm Star Bits too, it practically pays for itself! Bonus!

Wow! What a wild ride that was !!!! hopefully we all learned something at the end.

i'll post the real top 5 some other time i'm sorry

#super mario galaxy #super mario galaxy 2 #mod hooligon #april fools

[transhawks]

Probably because Dabi is not a child lmao. It is cringe af to want to see an adult man acting like a little pet to his childhood abuser and think of it like a nice cute thing. As if Dabi wasn't already fucked up enough.

This is a pretty fucked up way of looking at it.

"pet". So, a lot of abused as kids adults still have contact with their abusers. Maybe they have no other way of having survival and do it for financial reasons, maybe the abusers are their only support network. But aside from the "having to", you're missing another big part of the puzzle here. A lot of us love our abusers and acknowledge that as a part of them. And while the kneejerk reaction is "you shouldn't, they don't deserve it", I want to point out how fucking invalidating it feels to be told that it's "hate your abuser for what they've done" or "they're your family, you must forgive" as the only options. I've always said I want more media and stories where people like me can walk away or cut ties with abusive family because I don't think there's enough of them BUT I also don't want to shame or hurt people who want/need their own resolution of still being in contact or considering their abusers family. It's unfair to act like this a zero sum game.

No one wants Touya to "be a little pet" to Endeavor. Or at least I don't. But acknowledging it's love that fuels this and it's love that is very much a solution is a core part of the manga. It's sickening to me that you reduced the complexity of the Todoroki storyline like this, not going to lie.

And! He's fucked up! The whole story is fucked up! The whole point of Dabi, and Shouto, and just the Todoroki family is about how abuse and their societal expectations can fuck you up! Abuse doesn't often produce well-adjusted, logical or rational individuals, you have to work to undue to the literal brain damage it does to you! That's one of the whole issues with ABUSE, you know????

Dabi was emotionally abused and neglected and the root cause is so much because he genuinely loved his father, who did not know how to be an actual father and was too scared to learn/own up to his own failures. That produced this cycle. Wanting that core characterization of him to be acknowledged in fanon is not wanting Dabi to be a pet. It's wanting people to actually fucking engage with the material we are GETTING.

Let's be clear - the manga is ending with Dabi reuniting with his family. He's currently passed out and his father essentially trying to shield his family's bodies with his own body. This is not the kind of thing that's going to lead to "well, damn, i'm out of here" from Dabi. Maybe it will in a few years when there's so much more agency on Touya's part where he can choose the relationship he wants going forward. Recovery is never a straight line, and each child can define the relationship on their own terms, but it's absolutely clear that Dabi wanted that closeness and acknowledgment from his family NOW. He literally asks why it took so long in his near-death heat haze. And that means Touya and Enji will have to figure out a new relationship. If that bothers you, if you really wanted a revenge fantasy rather than an ending that relies on empathy and accountability going forward, then this is not the manga for you.

#asks

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Honey Sweet Words

One of the many reasons why I love playing a 'good' character while romancing Astarion is you can see how he tries to manipulate the character. It smooth, a smirk here, sway and purr there; but my fav is how he tries to use your words and just adjust them to his idea.

He has so many layers I love him lol

Rated: M

Warnings: manipulation, blood tears, shared vision into each others' trauma

Taglist: @aurasyn

It took you aback, the confusion and uncertainty, his words quick to draw you to his logic. You stood there completely at a loss for words. Is he… Is he manipulating you? "Like a spoonful of honey," You mumbled, "Sweet but thick enough to choke me." Pretty words and Astarion makes a face.

"So much for ambition."

"I won't become my master," Looking at him with a stance of bravery, you weren't going to back out of this. "He wants to control people, to strip them of everything to the marrow. I won't be like him— We don't have to be like them."

"See what I mean? You are too naive, darling." As he fronts concern, your head turns away, "Don't be like that."

"I won't do it. It's wrong."

You do not like having these sorts of talks with Astarion, the battle of morals where Astarion is easily gaining the upper hand. His words cut deep, poking holes into your choice to show you his point of view: control.

Domination.

Astarion groans as your mind unintentionally opens to him, the high amount of emotion from both of them calling out to each other.

You, the fear… The way you were not in control of your actions. A doll, a vampiric doll, for your master's amusement. You were his angel of music perfectly preserved and performing only for him.

Him, the anger… To be forced upon his back over and over for his master. Used and abused, his screams of pain and hatred were so sweet to his master's ears.

Two creatures who know the darkness, who drink crimson, both of whose nature is the very essence of domination and debauchery. A beast that will never be satisfied.

The connection is cut, and you try to stop the red tears that soon spill. Astarion's hands take yours, drawing you close to him. You whimper, the fear of submission to his reasoning… Maybe…

"Will you be satisfied if you controlled it all?" Astarion hears your worry, "What happens if one day I no longer want to be by your side? Will you force me to stay?" Fear that you will always be a captive to a lover who only wants power.

"I am not him." Astarion tries to assure you, lure you with his sweet voice. "But I know you won't leave my side. We balance each other." Do you? 

"The power to control people," You shake your head, "We would be just like the monsters who created us."

"I am nothing like Cazador!" He growls in defense, "We are better than them. We can make the realm better– A peaceful world where no one will suffer the way we have." His words are smooth and quick to pull at your naive kind nature.

"By force."

"Anything you want in this realm, anything of worth, is often gained by force, darling."

You shake your head, that isn't right. He kisses those bloody tears away, kisses you, pulls you close then wraps his arms around you while your hands rest on his chest. His lips find yours but move to your neck when you do not return his kiss.

"Astarion."

"(Name)," Saying your name like the lyric to a song he only wants you to hear, a siren song you fall often prey to. "Shh." He hurt you by planting doubt in your mind, yet, it had to be done. It would be a waste of power and he sees this tadpole as the advantage you both need against your master— Sires as you told him.

Never again, never again, never again will he grovel or be forced to submit to Cazador— To anyone.

You should feel the same way. You should.

#reader insert #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x you #astarion x vampire spawn!tav #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

[pearlywritings]

To wear white once more

synopsis: wedding is one of the most memorable and happiest days in one’s life. What are the chances of you dressing in white again to capture this moment on canvas? Diluc makes it possible.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: established relationship, fluff, newlyweds, Adelinde is a mother figure we all need

word count: 1.7k+ words

a/n: a portrait after your wedding was suggested by a lovely @bobaboob​ who, by the way, said that she had this fic in mind while drawing this piece of art

Looking in the mirror makes all the memories of nervousness and excitement wash over Diluc again, sending a shiver down his spine. Everything is as just as it was a month ago - his white suit hugs his body in all the right places, the long-tailed jacket complimenting his height, the golden lines on its and vest's lapels along with golden buttons forming a perfect wedding attire. The only standing out feature is a ruby brooch pinned to his cravat, matching his flaming locks, reflecting light just like his crimson eyes, momentarily clouded by recalling the events that happened on one of the happiest days in his life.

His heart skips a beat when he remembers a mesmerizing venue organized in the gardens of the Winery, guests - mainly from your side - on the benches, Kaeya and Adelinde by his side… Come to think of it, his adoptive brother was present in this very room while Diluc was getting ready, lightly joking and unknowingly helping Diluc with his nerves. Yeah, the day was a rollercoaster of emotions. Especially after you appeared.

The man adjusts his sleeves, making sure he looks perfect - it's only logical he'll match you in that. Brushing a lock of hair from the left side of his face, he hears a soft knock on his door, immediately knowing who it is.

"Come in, Adelinde."

The older woman enters the room with the most adoring smile on her face, eyes crinkling in joy, just like on his wedding day, which brings even more blissful memories back. She walks directly to him, reaching out to help with hair a little - she knows him too well, and Diluc is grateful for that.

"I've just met Master François Clouet and offered him brunch. He was very eager about it, given his long journey, so you might have another 20 or so minutes."

Diluc hums, closing his eyes and letting the maid work her magic.

"Good. And my wife?"

His wife… it rolls off his tongue so naturally and the golden ring around his finger becomes so palpable.

"Checked on the girls and they said she was almost ready. I think you can go and see her already.”

She can clearly see he wants to - it’s in the smallest details honestly. The way his lips are twitching in a hardly contained lovesick smile, the trembling of his for once bare fingers, the darting of his eyes to the door behind her and it’s quite obvious from how he forces his body to stay still in place until she is finished. If she wasn’t helping him with his hair, Adelinde is sure - he’d be running out of the door the moment the words left her mouth.

Cute. The glimpses of a young boy she used to know and care about as a mother come through, and the woman can’t thank you enough for it, for the happiness you brought in this lonesome mansion and love you rekindled in the hurt man’s heart.

“All done, Master Diluc,” when he shifts his eyes, not spotting his bangs in sight, he doesn’t even have to look in the mirror to know Adelinde recreated his look perfectly.

“Thank you, Adelinde,” and he means it, not stopping his body from moving, just like it did a month ago, enveloping the woman in his embrace, squeezing just a little. The blond-haired maid laughs, standing on her tiptoes and hugging him back.

“It’s always a pleasure to me. I dreamt of helping you with the wedding one day, and I must admit, doing some of it the second time is just as thrilling.”

Diluc cannot agree more.

When the door of your shared bedroom is right in front of him, the owner of the Dawn Winery feels his heart thumping in his chest, cravat feeling a bit suffocating and hand twitching. He hears excited giggles of the maids on the other side and your soft voice speaking to them, so full of glee and eagerness, that he doesn’t notice his fingers curling in a fist and knocking against the wooden surface. Instantly the sounds of laughter and conversation disappear, but the redhead makes out quick steps hurrying to the door.

The maid opening it gasps and turns around, immediately ushering others outside. The man moves to let five girls out of the room, all bowing and greeting him, to which he answers with a nod, entering the moment the last one leaves, closing the door behind him.

“My love, you are here,” your sweet words pull crimson eyes to your figure and his breath hitches. Basked in the sunlight pouring through the big window, your body is swarmed in pure whiteness. The dress, tailored together with his suit, makes you the loveliest bride a man could wish for. Long flowing skirt consists of many layers, streaming and moving with the slightest of your turns, the corseted waist pushes your chest up a little bit, though leaving half of your back bare… Oh how many kisses he placed there when the night was over and his fingers were working on the strings-

He clears his throat, coughing in his fist and fighting back the rising flush off his cheeks. Your smile turns teasing, lips wearing a pretty shade of lipstick, and Diluc notes in disappointment that he won’t be able to kiss you before the work on the painting for today is over. It doesn’t stop him from approaching you though, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to place a gentle peck on your cheek.

“Aren’t you a romantic one, my dear husband?” He shudders at the new term that was applied to him the moment the rings were slipped on your fingers and you two were proclaimed wedded.

“Can’t help it when my wife is this gorgeous,” it’s your turn to become bashful, sliding your palms up his back in an embrace, being careful not to crumple the jacket.

“Honestly, I didn't think I'd get to wear this dress again, not to mention so soon.”

“Sorry for keeping it from you, my flame.”

Despite already exchanging wedding presents, Diluc kept one more surprise from you. He knew you adored his father’s tradition of keeping paintings of not only nature, but important events of the family life, and your newlywed husband fully shared the sentiment. Undoubtedly, you two hired a photographer from Fontaine to capture the day marking your journey as spouses, and now have plenty of photos, but Diluc knew that it would bring you both absolute joy to have a portrait painted to hang it in the hall for every guest to know what a happy couple lives in this mansion.

Today is exactly the day for it.

“It’s alright,” your lashes flutter as he leans close again to plant another kiss - on your forehead this time. “Had you told me earlier, I would’ve been too excited to properly enjoy our honeymoon. So, good timing.”

Diluc chuckles at that. Then, on a whim he gently grabs your waist and starts swaying slowly, twirling your bodies in a tender dance, still flash to each other and foreheads pressed together, gazing into each other’s eyes. Your palms shift to his shoulders, feet moving back, right, forward, left, creating small waltz squares under the guidance of your husband who, as it seems, doesn’t want to let you go.

You dance like this for just ten minutes, but for Diluc it’s an eternity spent in your arms. He almost forgets you have plans and a man waiting for you two downstairs, until you stop, huffing a little when he bumps into you driven by inertia.

“Shouldn’t we go?” You don't know why you are whispering, but the moment is so innermost, that even the slightest rise of one’s voice might break it. You see how he releases a small breath of discontent, but doesn’t let it be shown in facial expression - after all, you are right.

“Of course, dear," your heart skips a beat, when he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, right over your wedding band. "Let’s go, Master Clouet must be waiting for us.”

The old man, who happened to know Master Crepus personally, seems to be gruff at first, but turns out to be a sweet person at heart, being extremely patient with both of you and occasionally commenting on how nice it is to see the boy, whom he last saw as a little kid, standing in front of him all grown up and with a wife by his side.

You are awe-stricken by the speed with which his dry and sinewy hands are moving, putting layer after layer of paint on the canvas, glancing up and down with his strikingly lively and bright eyes. He is nice to have around, and he treats you like human beings and not like statues, which many artists tend to do. He gives you breaks of course, doesn’t scold for moving an inch and doesn’t have a problem with fixing your poses if one of you happens to ruin it. He readily partakes in lunch and dinner and accepts Diluc’s offer to stay in one of the guest’s bedrooms, promising that it’ll take him only three nights.

And just as promised, on the morning of the fourth day, you watch the big painting getting hung in the hall as Diluc is handing Master Clouet a heavy pouch of mora, shaking his hand and saying something that makes an old man heartily laugh and pat the redhead’s shoulder. He then nods in approval, adding a couple more words of farewell, before following Adelinde to the exit. Diluc returns to your side.

“It’s brilliant,” your voice is shaking a little, happy tears brimming your eyes. Your body leans back on your husband’s chest, feeling him wrap his arms around your middle and putting his chin on your shoulder. “I love it so, so much, ‘luc. Just… I didn’t know a brush could recreate something so accurately! It’s unbelievable. Just look at our faces! It’s so detailed, I can practically see hearts in my eyes! Yours too, by the way,” the man snorts, pressing a kiss to the side of your jaw, absolutely enjoying your amazement and teasing. He fully shares your feelings about the painting and almost opens his mouth to tell that he made a deal to invite your recent guest to make more paintings of you - some of the walls are pretty empty, if you ask him. However, he decides against it - after all what is life without pleasant surprises?

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact fluff

[image-thot]

For the Cause: Soundwave/Reader/Shockwave

Summary: When Shockwave returns from Cybertron, all quickly notice his increased irritability and aggression towards the few remaining omegas. Megatron concludes the best course of action is to ask his most loyal follower to lend his to the adjusting mech.

Warnings: a/b/o, heats/ruts, dubcon, non-graphic smut, Dubious sharing of mates

Shockwave was not a mech that many would choose for company, most would rather avoid the scientist in fear they'd become his next "project". He liked it that way, the fewer distractions he had meant more energy he could use to focus his work only ever needing to stop for necessary needs such as refuelling, recharge and the once-in-a-melenia rut.

Shockwave had a gift when it came to pushing down functions and emotions he deemed "illogical" and for the majority of the war primal base coding was deemed just that. Even when he was stranded on their dead home world, he was alone the conditions poor and so it was pushed down once again. That all changed when he was rescued and brought back into the Decepticon ranks once more.

For the first time in a long while he came to crave social interaction.

He would never outwardly show it but he'd often find himself enjoying the company of the Megatron, Soundwave, Y/n, Knockout, Eradicons and even Starscream.

So the only logical conclusion as to why his primal coding was finally burning through his frame with the need to find and mate an omega, was that optimum conditions for producing sparklings have been met. 

The logic was there but it didn't stop him from trying to refute it.

Aside from self-servicing every few hours he hadn't found much relief, the Eradicons were not designed with their primal coding in mind and therefore were of no use to him. Those that could be of use such as Starscream, Y/n and Breakdown were already spoken for, their Alpha's being of high ranks would likely mean a direct confrontation. 

Even though he never acted on his impulses did not make him any less pleasant to be around, often he'd find himself in a heightened state of aggression 

To say this made everyone a little tense was an understatement.

For the first two weeks, it was simply chalked up to his lack of social interaction over the many years. After the third, many assumed he was angry over his abandonment on Cybertron but by the fourth, even Megatron had grown irritated over his new demeanour.

"Soundwave, I hope you've found the answer to our problem." Megatron speaks watching the faceless mech standing before him.

"Affirmative." One of the many voices Soundwave has collected plays, Megatron motions for him to continue.

|Conclusion: Shockwave experiencing a long overdue rut cycle and has not been able to find a suitable omega to mate resulting in aggression towards alphas and their omegas.|

Megatron hums in acknowledgment of his communication officer's response, his digits tapping along his throne in thought.

"So if Shockwave were to have an omega to help in this rut he'd return to his usual self." Megatron states as Soundwave nods in response as he watches his Lord in thought. A few minutes pass as Megatron thinks, weighing each choice carefully before he speaks.

"I assume that y/n isn't carrying from your last rut?" Megatron queries keenly aware of the tension this draws from Soundwave's frame at the mention of his own mate, he takes a moment to calculate the time since you had last took him.

"Affirmative." The thought that if you had been carrying crossed his mind, would megatron consider another to offer Shockwave.

"I assume you would be willing to share your omega with Shockwave?" Megatron's words have a hint of amusement behind them as watches Soundwave’s biolights pulse.

|Query: An order?| 

Soundwave already knows it is and as insulting as it is, he'd never ever disobey a direct order from him. Even if that meant putting the bond he had built with you in harm's way.

"Yes, we cannot afford to lose Shockwave or his important work. I expect this to be handled quickly and discreetly Soundwave." Megatron almost growled as he motioned for the slender mech to leave.

Pulling his emotions tighter in, he makes his way to your station with his new directive.

This was for the cause, shockwave and his research is important to reach their goals. It was ordered by Megatron himself, a sign that he trusted you and there was no higher honour than that.

You would understand.

When your mate paid you a visit while on duty it was a shock, a rare event indeed.

"Nothing makes me happier than seeing you my love but I know you wouldn't come by unless something was wrong." Your words are so sweet and kind, it makes his spark drop with dread.

|New orders: Presence required in Laboratory -Shockwave in need of your assistance|

His visor flashes displaying the message as he feels himself stiffen, a small glint of confusion lights your optics before it disappears.

"And that assistance would be?" Optic ridge raised as you eye him up and down. "You're never one to skip on the details, especially regarding orders."

Your gaze has him instinctively straightening, chassis puffing out at the thought of you choosing another alpha over him. No, this was a mission you weren't choosing him merely fulfilling your duties as a Decepticon.

|Shockwave experiencing difficulties adjusting to the presence of omegas :Solution: Y/n to assist in adjustment|

Soundwave doesn't miss the way your frame tenses and your EM field draws back. It's obvious you’re disgusted by the request, your dermas twitch as you try to suppress a grimace.

"In what way?" It’s not that you don't know the answer, the defeated tone that tries to break through your words is evidence of that. 

You wanted no, you needed to hear it from him. If he'd order something so intimate in your bond to be given to the cause, you know he would. When he simply stares back you turn, moving back to your console as you begin to close your work. It may hurt your spark but you can understand that all Decepticons should be willing to sacrifice anything to further the cause.

"Any and All." The recorded voice of Megatron plays through his speakers, letting out a deep ex-vent you close the last data stream before turning to him.

"Affirmative. I will make my way there at once." Your voice never faltered as you push down the building emotions that threaten to spill out, as you walked towards the door Soundwaves visor tracks your movements and he doesn't need to analyse you to know that you feel betrayed.

“It’s a necessary sacrifice.” It echos through his helm, watching from the security camera as Shockwave looms over you his large frame corralling you backwards until your back hits the med slab.

“It’s for Cybertron.” The rage bubbles as Shockwaves servo roughly turns you, his cannon pressing hard into your back to bend you over the Energon-stained slab.

“It’s for the future.” Growling at Shockwave's careless clawing at your interface panelling, his pede kicking your legs open wider as your panels retract.

“It’s for the Decepticons.” Optics focussing back on the data in front of him he continues to listen, the sound of metal harshly clashing against metal along with a chorus of growls and whines fill his audio receptors.

#dubious consent #transformers #x reader #reader insert #alpha beta omega #a/b/o au #ao3 #oneshots #drabble #soundwave x reader #maccadam #soundwave #soundwave x reader x shockwave #tfp shockwave #transformers prime #tfp soundwave #tfp x reader #tfp soundwave x reader #tfp shockwave x reader #transformers shockwave #transformers g1 #omegaverse #Non-graphic

[rhaenin-time]

The "B-b-but Daemon!" whiners will never cease to amaze me with their ability to blame Daemon for every single little thing under the sun. Yeah, the man is a menace and a rogue, but he's not responsible for all the wrongs in Alicent's life. I swear, Saint Puppy Eyes could break her nose and fans will theorize that Daemon went back in time to push her face first into a wall. Daemon has become the ultimate evil to Team Green when they have temperamental little maniacs like Aemond burning the Riverlands for no reason.

It's actually a product of very contradictory logic that you wouldn't believe people were operating under — if they didn't also use that logic in real life.

Because (most) of them know that there's no reasonable argument that places the fault for the Dance on Rhaenyra. But they still don't like her, or her cause, because her cause is her. Which is fine if you're a King but she's a woman which means she's selfish.

Daemon is morally grey and has a reputation for being ruthless, and unlike Rhaenyra he doesn't need to conduct himself as a future ruler. He's the future ruler's attack dog. So it's easier to project all the wrongs of the world onto him. And while plenty of rulers have "attack dogs" in their circle, that when Viserys was heir Daemon was his attack dog, the fact that Rhaenyra's a woman means sexists can say "well, actually it will be DAEMON who's in charge." Even though they'll then use the fact that she is in charge to blame her for his actions. And not just his actions. Because keep in mind, out of all the grown princes in the war, Daemon and Jace were the only ones to not only not do mass murder, but to also actively avoid mass murder.

And yet you see people justify the usurpation based on actions he doesn't even do but they can imagine him capable of if he occupied Rhaenyra's position without adjusting his behaviour to fit that position.

Now add to that the fact that we tend to use bad women as mascots for the bad men around them. Alicent the good woman is good because she goes along with convention and (mostly) appears to act within her role as a woman. Which means she's a poor innocent flower who's not responsible for the actions of the men around her, even if she's the one who influenced or empowered them. She's an object who 'knows' she's an object and even though she's the enemy's object, you tend not to punish the possessions of an enemy. (Though of course it does still happen but it's accepted as a 'bad' thing to do).

But Rhaenyra is a BAD woman and an object who refuses to act like an object which means she is responsible for her own actions — and also for the actions of the men around her. But only the bad actions. Her men's accomplishments are simply her having men do the work for her, of course. But she's also still an object of the enemy (Daemon) which means she's his but unlike Alicent, because she refuses to act the object, it means she can be held responsible for the actions of ALL the men around her. It means she can be seen as an extension of the men around her in a way Alicent is not.

Basically, it's about Rhaenyra.

#asoiaf #hotd #fire and blood #asoiaf fandom #rhaenyra targaryen #anti team green #hotd sexism #team black #daemon targeryan

[faerievampling]

Killing Time

Chapter 10: A Radiant Reunion

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Spawn Female Tav(Reader)

Word Count: 4k

Total word count: 48k

Masterlist

Link to AO3

Summary: Astarion and Tav finally reunite. Lots of fluff, Astarion reverent of and needy for his vampire wife.

Warnings: 18+. Mention of past SA, abuse. Light Dub-con. Lots of fluff, Astarion being in love with and obsessed with his consort.

You surrendered yourself to his arms: it was the only tangible thing to you in this moment, the only place where you knew you belonged. You want his blood, so badly, but a larger part of you just wants him to hold you. You’ve already begun trembling, evolving into violently shakes as your husband dashes through the portal. You don’t know if it’s adrenaline, trauma, shock, what-have-you, but your body just won’t stop.

You are home. The overwhelming scent of your territory envelops you, but it only makes you more frantic, your hold on your husband tighter than you had ever held him. You hadn’t remembered feeling this level of emotion, the intensity of the feeling of finally being safe just makes you…

You can smell Astarion’s musk when you’ve entered the master bedroom: the two of you collapse to the floor. Your head remained nestled in Astarion’s chest, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms caging his neck, fingers gripping the root of his curls. 

The motion between you is strange, so familiar and yet so new. His body felt good on yours, easing some sort of heated pain that felt like it coated your skin – but maybe that was just the dried blood. Astarion means to pull away from you, just so he can adjust so you would be most comfortable, but you don’t care about that. You only want him. 

Astarion calls various healers into the room; but the moment they enter, you perceive them as intruders, hissing and growling at them over your husband’s shoulder. You can’t calm down, your irritation only rising as your reality dawns on you: the rape, the abuse, the scars, the obsession, the dead lover, the angel, the cat. Why am I thinking about the cat? And your husband is right here: he’s right here, so why do you feel so explosive? Your logical mind tows away from you.

“Stay away – he’s mine, mine, mine, mine, mine…” You growl, you and Astarion’s motion turning more into a wrestling match as you attempt to lunge at the help. You’re like this for a while, ignoring Astarion’s desperate pleas for you to calm down.

“Why can’t I feel you? I thought–” But you’re breathless, your voice coming out in near whispers. You continue, your words soon devolving to babbles as you reach exhaustion, your sobs wracking through your body as you flail about. There is so much you want to say, so much you need to say, but your mouth won’t move the way you want it to, unable to communicate anything but simultaneous suffering and relief. 

Astarion tries to wrangle you in his arms. He doesn’t understand why he can’t feel you, why the two of you aren’t connected anymore. Both the gith and the palace wizards believed physical reunion and/or the death of Geldon Moth would bring back the mental connection between him and his consort: but his mind is silent. He quickly realizes you’re frustrated, like a child who can’t communicate, panicking and flailing about for him. 

You were still undeniably filthy; Astarion hadn’t really paid any mind at first, because his only worry was being with you again, but he couldn’t stand the lingering state you were in. It strangles him, your desperate cries, the way you tangle yourself within him, represented in the way you reach for his hands, threading your fingers with his own for just a moment before he brings you into his lap, straddling him.

He hadn’t intended on placing you right on his hardened cock, but the moment you grind on him, reciprocating his need, Astarion’s hand flies to his trousers. His fingers stumble as he unlaces them before bringing his hand between your legs. He’s met with the cloth of your panties. Suddenly quite bothered by the smell of the clothing you wore, Astarion tears at the bloodied dress on your body, letting its rags fall to the floor. This frightens you, he knows, but he can’t help himself: your panties become the next victim of his rage. 

Astarion can smell the others on you, and all he can think is that he must take you. It was indignant, offensive, ludicrous for Geldon Moth to have been the last man inside you. Astarion really can’t stand it anymore. 

Lining himself up with your entrance, Astarion plunges into you; you take half of his length, the state of you meaning nothing between you as the warmth of his cock spreads through your core. It causes heat to reverberate throughout your body, feeling its tender rise in your fingertips. The tip of Astarion’s cock begs for more, pushing past your tight, gummy walls as your lover shifts you to the floor. You’re on your back now, Astarion bringing your thighs to a mating press as he pushes his full length into you.

Astarion knows exactly where to put it; knowing your body seamlessly, he’s already reaching for that sweet spot inside of you. The pressure of him feels delicious, and you cry out, savoring yet fighting against every thrust before you feel the contraction of his release; Astarion lasts for only a few seconds, but it doesn’t end your frenzy..

Astarion’s starts crying again, too. He can’t watch you like this anymore. 

****

Astarion’s entire body sears with something in between excitement and pain, or maybe a mix of both: he finally has you back, your delicate form being treated so gently in his hands after you had finally passed out. 

You fell under the spell faster than Astarion thought you would, your body being in a far weaker state than he first realized. The end of your fit brings him tremendous relief, but only for a moment as your husband starts to study the state of your body, his eyes sweeping over you. You were filthy, caked in mud and blood and guts. Astarion tries to keep his mind sound when he sees the evidence of violation on your body.

Your left breast has deep incision marks, likely where Moth had repeatedly fed from you. These same marks were all over you: your shoulder, your thigh…seeing how close Moth fed to your sex made Astarion grit his teeth. He had even bitten you on the curve of your ass, your arm, your calf. The dragonborn’s fangs were large, biting you down beyond his incisors, just as Cazador had done to him. A careless bite, one that was meant to scar and brand.

He feels far away as he takes off his own clothes: he needs to be close to you, to feel you against him, lest he go mad. He also thought it would be easier to clean you and more comfortable for you both. And he was glad he decided to join you, because your long hair required several washings to get fully clean, and even still, you smell like battle. 

And other men. Several other men, by what Astarion could tell: it made his gut churn, causing bile to rise in his throat. Astarion realized he’s gripping you a bit too hard once you shift away from him, slurring words in your slumber.

“So sorry, darling...I’m so sorry,” Astarion whispered, knowing he would have to be far more mindful of himself. 

You slur something incomprehensible, your voice coming out a hushed whisper as Astarion feels your cool breath on his chest, making him shiver. Every sign of life you gave him invigorates him. He is silent as his hands wash your body, not lingering too long at your intimate areas, feeling a bit guilty for taking you so ravenously earlier. 

Astarion dries the two of you off once he feels satisfied with your bath, slipping a nightgown over your head before cleaning your teeth. 

When the two of you are finally ready for bed, Astarion finds himself unable to look away from you. With your face clean, he studies the new additions: the thin scar, a line trailing from cheekbone to cheekbone: it’s  rather straight, and Astarion can’t help but gently touch the end of it, the place where your beautiful flesh had only lightly been slightly marred. 

Caressing your cheekbone, Astarion brings his lips to yours, lightly brushing them together. His thumb finds your lower lip, pulling down to expose a fang; so cute. So ceaselessly beautiful. He gently brushes his lips to yours again without making you stir. Drawing his thumb into your mouth, the pad moving along your teeth, Astarion felt oddly compelled to touch you somewhere intimate, somewhere nobody else could. He had inspected your teeth earlier, ensuring everything was still in good order: but even still, he can’t stop obsessing over your possible injuries.

Astarion isn't surprised when you bite down, breaking through skin as you begin to suck, drawing your lips around his thumb in a way that’s lewd. Astarion can hear his own heartbeat gradually increase as he feels the pleasure buildup in his body, his balls tightening as his blood pulsates to his cock, which is hard pressed against your thigh. 

Doing his best to ignore his throbbing member, he let you feed until you released. Thumb still in your mouth, Astarion can’t  help but kiss you so fervently, slipping his tongue between your lips to taste you; your lips and tongue and saliva, the hint of his coppery essence coating your mouth, and it was delicious to him – he wanted it all. The kisses were sloppy, his tongue fully exploring your lips and your mouth, causing you to stir. 

You lazily return his languid smooch, your palms resting on his bare chest before nuzzling your face into his shoulder. You curl into him, bringing your knees to your chest, your shins pressed against his torso. “So warm…”

You feel his hardness against you. You only hold him closer.

“I plan to keep you in these warm arms as long as you’ll bear it,” Astarion whispers, pressing his lips to your hairline. He has so many questions to ask you. So many things left uncertain, but that would come in the morning, after you had properly rested and fed. 

****

Your husband watches you sleep throughout the night. You’re more fitful than anyone under a sleep spell should be, your chin tossing and your fingers twitching. Astarion hasn’t let you go, but fury fills his chest at his helplessness. He caresses your face, runs his fingers through your hair; he can’t help but touch your body more.

When Astarion turns out the lights, extinguishing the roaring fireplace, the two of you are left in the dark of the night. You become more fitful, and Astarion can’t stand it; once the lights of the master bedroom shine again, your body calms down, becoming gooey in his arms. 

Astarion begins to lose himself to the promises of rest. He finally has you in his arms, and the two of you are in your palace, in your bed. He can’t be happier. But sometime in the night, his eyes flutter open to see the image of a large, winged man standing over you, his hand wrapped around your ankle. He has a smile on his face, and he looks like he’s petting you with his other hand. Before Astarion can respond to the intruder (your husband is rather fast, too) the apparition disappears. 

Astarion darts out of bed, scanning the master bedroom, swiftly commanding his spawn to do a quick sweep of the estate. But there is no trace of anyone, and Astarion decides to find solace by pressing up against your soft, perfect body.

****

Your eyes open just as the sun breaks dawn, and Astarion can’t help but smile. “Goodmorning, my treasured wife.” 

You know you’re where you belong. When you look at your husband, he is so exquisite it makes your heart jump: his eyes are tired, his curls tousled in a way that was daringly sexy but indicative of his stress. The lines on his face looked deeper, somehow, and his eyes were already wet. Your hands fly to the sides of his face, your action more forceful than you had intended. Your hands land on his cheeks with a light smack, and you’re running your hands over him desperately, pulling his face to yours to smell him, to kiss him, to bite him. 

Your leg burns, reminding you that you aren’t quite safe. Astarion allows you to climb atop him, your body quick and strong as you cage him beneath you. His blood was so sweet, thick like honey and as intoxicating as wine. You pull at his hair, his ears, your nails are digging into his shoulder, and you don’t know how long this goes on before Astarion’s pinned you beneath him, hand gently but firmly on your jaw.

“–I told you that was enough, Tav!” Astarion isn’t yelling, but his voice raised to get your attention. He had begged you to release your fangs after draining his lifeblood faster and deeper than ever before; but you hardly know the difference in his tone, your face twisting in shock and fear at your perception of his aggression. 

“Tav, it’s okay, Tav,” He’s released your jaw, but you’re still pinned beneath him as tears break your lashes. “Please don’t cry, my love, I’m not mad, I promise I’m not mad at you, I never could be –“ 

But he should be, you think. He should be, because you had defiled your marriage bed thrice over, broken every single rule of your master and spawn relationship, and ruined the gift of beauty bestowed on you. 

“G-get off me,” Your words are a demand, but your voice comes out like a question, as if you’re asking permission to be let go. 

“Don’t make me let you go.” His words hurt you. 

“Please…” You beg, looking away from him.

Astarion closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he moves away from you. Astarion can sense your panic, and he doesn’t know what to do as he watches as you dart over to the full length mirror. 

Once you had been in his arms again, Astarion desperately planned how he would react to these things: he tried to conceive of what you had likely been through, and decided on the most loving and spousal route he could go, knowing that he must concede and pamper you. 

You study your reflection closely: one ruby and one golden eye stare back at you, that thin scar across your face looking fairly clean and straight in the daylight: the scar on your forehead was another story, thick and jagged, rather ugly.

“You look amazing.” Astarion’s voice is smooth and soft. You see him walk up behind you, attempting to put his arms around you, but you shy away, walking over to the fireplace. Your hand grasps the wooden frame of a lounger, your nails scratching the finish.

Astarion can’t stand the way you resisted his touch. He comes to you, his long digits slinking up the back of your nightgown, his touch becoming more assertive as his hands rest on your abdomen, pulling your body flush with his own. You turn, placing your hands on his chest.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Astarion’s voice comes out harsher than intended. His touch becomes firm, more rough as he looks deeply into your eyes. The challenge in your eyes makes him want to dominate, to fully make you one with him again.

“I’ve been so lonely without you,” Is all Astarion manages to say before his lips crash into yours, his fangs cutting into your lip as his pushes his warm tongue between your teeth. His muscle swirls around your own, his hands exploring your body, thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple as you push him away again.

“Why do you bother? I’m scarred, hideous, I’ve been defiled…” Your voice cracks, and Astarion really can’t take this. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking. Pressing his forehead to yours as if he’s trying to meld your mind, Astarion’s touch only gets needier. 

He needs you. He needs his wife. He needs to be enveloped in your sweet, tight cunt, to taste your blood and your come and whatever else of you he could manage to taste.

“No, that’s not right, Tav,” Astarion devolves before your eyes, dropping to his knees again. His exhaustion is apparent now, and you wonder how many days he’d been awake. “Please. Please just hold me. Don’t deny me, I can’t take it.”

Astarion didn’t beg like this, especially out loud.

You don’t think you have ever seen your husband on his knees before you, so desperate for your touch. He had certainly been on his knees for you for pleasurable things but this was different: a display of submission.  

But every time you meet his eye, you know he’s looking at your ruined face. You look away again. 

“Look at me, Tav,” He pleads, giving you only a moment to respond before reaching up and grabbing you by the chin, bringing you to meet his eye. “I love you.”

Something in his tone makes you quiver. You still don’t want him to look at you, but the way he stares deeply into your eyes makes you melt. You really do just want to be in his arms again. 

“Let’s go back to bed. Please, my love. Please…”

“Okay,” You relent, your hands on Astarion’s forearms as you help him up before bringing you both back to bed. You guided him, his hands never leaving your body. Once in bed, Astarion pulls you under the covers, tucking himself into you as he lies his head on your chest. You put your arms around him, running your hands over his broad shoulders. You hardly realize he’s begun to cry until his body starts to shake, unable to hide his sobs. 

You run your fingers through his hair, peppering gentle kisses on the top of his head. Pressing your nose to him, you deeply inhale his scent. Not the one that Astarion puts on, but the smell of his living body: his natural odor. He smells so good, and your bedsheets are silky smooth, soft against your bare legs, relief washing over you.

Astarion’s tears dry after a while, leaving the two of you laying in silence, only the crackle from the fireplace and the gentle thrum of Astarion’s heartbeat to fill the gap. Astarion starts to mindlessly massage you, his hands roaming your figure as his thumb swipes little circles into your skin. 

“I missed you,” You say; you’re at a loss for words. You didn’t know where to begin.

And Astarion didn’t either. “I missed you so much. I still miss you.”

You frown, understanding his meaning: you, too, missed being nestled in his mind. Astarion touches your left hand, threading his fingers through yours. 

“I think maybe it was time for a new set of diamonds, anyways. We’ll find you something even more dazzling, my sweet,” Astarion tries to put on a good humored attitude, but his melancholy is apparent in his tone. 

You had nearly forgotten about your wedding rings. “He took my anklet, too.”

Astarion is quiet for some time. So long that you start to think he’s fallen asleep. 

“I made him scream for a long time.” You still remembered the sound of his tearing vocal cords. “But I was screaming too. I screamed more than he did, definitely.” 

“But you’re alive, and he’s not,” Astarion says, bringing himself to his elbow to meet your eyes. You fight the urge to hide your face.

“Only because I got lucky,” You say as you sit up, bringing your right leg out in front of you, surveying the silver band that still remains. It burns with every movement, but it wasn’t entirely incapacitating. Astarion is quick to find himself a comfortable position to adjust to yours, bringing your back to his chest as he rests on the headboard of the bed. His own legs are on either side of your hips, his hard cock resting between his abdomen and your back. It feels good just to have it pressed to you, and Astarion is pleased with this.

“They were on all my limbs,” You look at your wrists, swallowing your disgust for your scars.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, my love,” Astarion whispers in your ear, his arms briefly squeezing you, giving you a little hug.”You have eternity to open up…and I have many working on the cure to our little condition.”

Astarion’s finger moved under your chin, guiding your eyes to his. “We will be one again, soon, my sweet wife.”

Astarion places a gentle kiss on your lips, making you feel a jump deep within your core. He begins to nibble at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses before lovingly nipping at your earlobe. His affections have you feeling fuzzy, all your emotional and physical pain being eased by just the feeling of his plush lips against your skin. “Why don’t I have them bring us something filling, and maybe some wine?”

That sounding fucking amazing, and you excitedly turn to him, nodding at him as he smiles back at you. The servants are quick, and before you know it, the two of you are tasting the sweet and sour mixture on each other's tongues. 

“Sweet…your skin tastes so sweet, my love,” Astarion whispers through excited moans. His tongue worked its way from your lips, to your cheek and jaw, your neck, before settling kisses at your temple and ear. His hand rests beneath your nightgown, cupping your breast as his thumb gently rubs across your nipple.

Astarion was careful not to touch the scar tissue on your body: he knew all too well how sensitive the skin was, even for a vampire. His hand moved slowly down your abdomen, his warmth making you shiver.

“I think I ruined every panty you had left in the palace,” Astarion says as the two of you giggle, drunk on wine and each other.

“Will you tell me again?” You whisper, and Astarion tenderly kisses your cheek.

“About how much I love you?” Astarion teases, his hand trailing down your side body, resting at your hip. “Tav, you are the only thing I love.”

****

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Astarion asks, briefly glancing up at you before focusing on the ties of your shoes. You sit on your bed, your foot resting on Astarion’s knee as he prepares you to meet with Lae’zel and your gith warriors. You wanted to see them despite Astarion’s protests that they should be coming to you. 

“Yes. I promise,” You say as you give him a little smile, trying to animate yourself a little more so he knows you mean it. “I want to see them.”

After a pause. “Do you think I’ll frighten them?”

Astarion frowns, pulling your other foot onto his knee, beginning his work. “It will be your undeath that frightens them, not the way you look. You’re far too lovely, Tav. And your appearance is not so different, despite what you may think.”

“You speak as though I can’t see it,” You say, thinking about how jealous Moth was of this gift of yours. 

Astarion puts both of his hands on your shoulders, squaring himself to you. But just as he’s about to speak, Astarion eyes go wide as he looks over your shoulder. Throwing you behind him, Astarion is silently telling you to turn into a bat and fly away, having briefly forgotten about the lack of your telepathy. 

“Woah! No need to be like that, handsome,” Angel says with a smile, his hands on his hips as he stands in the middle of your bedroom. His wings are immaculate, beautiful and white, his smile brilliantly showing off perfect teeth. 

Masterlist

taglist: @viowolf

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #ascended astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion x female tav #ascended astarion x reader #spawn tav #lord astarion #killing time