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reiding-writing · 3 days

Note

hi! could you write prompt 6 from the angsty dialogue prompts for the climacteric event? fem/gn reader whatever you prefer, i was thinking that reader finds out something about spencer and it results in this messy situation, but honestly how you want to do it is all up to you!

JEALOUSY [CLIMACTERIC]

6. “Don’t touch me.”

WARNINGS: spencer is a bit of a twat but apologises profusely afterwards, arguing, happy? ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 2.5k || event masterlist!!

main masterlist!!

a/n: majority vote chose this one to come out first 🫶 they also chose for it to have a happy ending bc y’all are really boring /j (i love you guys you aren’t boring i swear 🫶)

Spencer Reid grew up too fast.

He was remarkably smart for his age, that much was a given, but in terms of emotional development Spencer was forced to skip what should’ve been his childhood.

He didn’t get to experience what it felt like be praised over a rudimentary piece of ‘art’ by his parents, because he was ‘too intelligent’ for that.

He didn’t get to go out on a Saturday morning with his father to learn how to play a ball game because his dad was never around.

He didn’t get to be coddled by his mother when he cried because by the time he was nine he was her full time carer.

Ironically, his childhood was an era of time where he could barely remember a single detail, despite his renowned eidetic memory, and it only seemed to further prove that Spencer Reid’s childhood didn’t exist.

All he could remember was what didn’t happen. The key milestones of his life that he never got to live through.

To say that impacted his emotional availability was an understatement. Spencer had never been one to ask for help from other people, but in instances where he really felt like he was about to fall apart it was even worse. He’d grown up with the expectation that he was responsible for his own well being. That him and him alone was the only thing that could get him through whatever dark patch that he went through.

He didn’t need anyone else. He wasn’t allowed anyone else. It was just him, always.

You were decidedly the opposite. You wore your emotions on your sleeve, and for the most part, Spencer found it entirely refreshing to watch you be able to express yourself with no holds barred and no internal monologue telling you that what you were doing was wrong.

Sometimes he wished he could do the same.

There were times of his career where he wished you’d do something wrong, that you’d make a mistake or cross a boundary and it’d allow him to exert all of the anger and deep-seeded jealously he felt whenever he saw you be so open with yourself.

He knew it was horrible of him, and more often than not the minute those thoughts invaded his mind he thought of nothing more than how much of a terrible person he was. He was wishing ill on you just because you’d managed to have a healthy emotional output.

Because he was inherently broken from all the years of keeping everything to himself.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of your voice, gaze turning upwards from the mug of coffee sitting on the kitchenette counter to meet your face, covered in worry lines as you furrow your own eyebrows.

He hated when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer presses his lips together in an awkward line of a smile, a staple of his character that seemed much less genuine than usual from your point of view.

“You’ve uh- You’ve been stood here staring at your mug for almost five minutes,” Spencer flickers his eyes up to the analogue clock on the wall at your declaration.

You were right, he’d been stood in a state of dissociation for almost a whole five minutes without realising it. Great, that’s just wonderful. Like his life couldn’t get any worse.

“Everything’s fine,” He gives you another one of those awkward smiles as he takes his mug in between both of his hands, the ceramic barely even warm anymore, which tells him that his coffee isn’t hot enough for him to actually enjoy it, but right now he’d take a cup of warm coffee over standing here talking to you about his ‘feelings’.

But you’ve never made things easy.

“It’s not though is it? Something’s wrong Spencer, everyone in the office can tell,” You sigh softly at the indignation on his face as you prod at what’s going on inside his head. “We’re worried about you…” You reach out your hand slowly to lay it on his arm, and he pulls away from you without a second thought.

“Please don’t touch me,” He takes a step to the side, clearly trying to bypass you and get back to his desk so he can escape the conversation. “I said I’m fine.”

“And you’re lying Spencer.” You step in the same direction that he does, effectively blocking his path out of the kitchenette. “We need to know what the issue is or we can’t help you Spencer,” Your voice is tinged with a small amount of desperation, and it irks Spencer in a way that he can’t even fully comprehend.

“You want to know what the issue is?” He puts his mug back down on the counter with enough force that small droplets of coffee spill over the rim and onto the granite underneath it. “It’s you.”

He leans forward slightly like he’s trying to emphasise his point. “You are the issue.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and all of a sudden you’re regretting caring so much.

God you’re beginning to regret even waking up this morning. Maybe that would’ve spared you from the stake in your heat that was Spencer Reid explicitly telling you that you were the sole reason why he was acting differently. Why he was being cold and distant from the team and their genuine want to just make sure he’s okay.

Because they couldn’t do that. Because you were a part of the team. And as long as you were there that coldness wouldn’t go away.

“Right…” You press your lips into a line. “Sorry for asking.”

Spencer regrets what he said almost as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He watches as that usual sparkle of compassion in your eyes literally fizzles out right in front of him, and all of a sudden he feels like an absolutely horrible person.

As you turn to leave he reaches out a hand to stop you. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, how could he possibly redeem himself after a comment like that? But his body runs on autopilot and all he knows is that he needs to apologise to you. “Wait—”

“Don’t— touch me Reid,” You pull your arms further into yourself to stop him from reaching out to them, and he swears his heart breaks at the sight of you being dismissive. And then there was the added blow of you using his surname to further distance yourself from him and making him want to cut out his tongue so saying something so rash with absolutely zero provocation. “I understood you the first time.”

It was a complete turn of your character, all semblance of warmth and vulnerability evaporated and replaced with a cold, hard shell that Spencer could see calcifying behind your eyes.

“I-“

“I’ll leave you be now.”

And with that you disappear around the corner, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. His terrible thoughts that rightfully pummel him into the ground for so much as suggesting that you could ever be a problem.

—

When you said you’d “Leave him be”, he didn’t think it meant you’d literally avoid him like the plague. God you’d even roped Emily into switching desks with you so you wouldn’t have to sit opposite him anymore.

How was he supposed to grovel for your forgiveness if you wouldn’t so much as spare him a glance?

How was he supposed to explain to the team that the reason the two of you suddenly weren’t talking to each other was because he’d fucked up so badly that he felt like he was going to implode?

And most importantly, how on earth was Spencer Reid supposed to make you listen to him so he could explain himself and try to reconcile with you?

He’d considered cornering you in the break room, or catching you in an elevator on your way to the parking lot, but he knew that would only make things worse.

He’d considered turning up to your apartment your favourite snacks and begging you to let him inside, but that would be weird and borderline stalkerish.

He was really running out of ideas, and the longer he went without saying something the deeper he felt he was being pulled into the pit of despair that he’d dug himself to the point where he wasn’t sure if he as going to be able to claw himself out of it.

He had to speak to you. And he had to make sure that you didn’t run away.

The opportunity practically handed itself to him during a case. He knew budget cuts would mean that the team paired up when staying at a NYC hotel, and after some under the table begging for the other team members to room with each other so you didn’t have any choice but to room with him, he took his chance.

There was a very obvious blanket of tension between the two of you as you entered the room together, your apparent vow of silence continuing as you dump your bag on one of the twin beds to claim it as your own before shutting yourself into the bathroom to ready yourself for sleep.

He could tell that you weren’t happy about the arrangement, and despite how much you were distancing yourself from him you still wore your emotions on your sleeve, and right now they were telling him that you would literally rather be anywhere else.

You skirt past him as you exit the bathroom in your pyjamas, leaving your clothes and your bag on one of the decorative chairs to climb into bed with the continued silent treatment you’re serving him.

Spencer sighs dejectedly as he watches you take a seat on the edge of the bed with your back to him. “Can we talk? Please?”

“What is there to talk about?” Your voice washes him like a cold shower, your vocal chords dipped in ice and your words a perfect combination of blunt and dismissive. He can’t see your expression as you speak, but has a pretty good idea of the furrowing of your eyebrows and the narrowing of your gaze.

“I want—” Spencer lets out another sigh, raking his fingers through his hair in internal frustration. “I need to apologise to you. What I said was horrible and I’m sorry,”

“I don’t forgive you.”

As much as the words cut through his heart like a knife, he can’t blame you.

“I understand… I just wanted you to know that I really regret what I said, and that it’s been tearing me up thinking about it,”

“Right…” You let out a short, sarcastic laugh that causes Spencer’s eyebrows to furrow. “Because it’s all about you right?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Goodnight Reid.” You punctuate your sentence by shutting of the lamp on your side of the room, officially putting an end to your side of the ‘conversation’.

Spencer wasn’t done with it quite yet.

“I’m jealous of you. That’s why I said that ‘you were an issue’. You’re not. I am the issue and I was projecting it on to you. That was unfair of me and I need you to understand that I am apologising to do right by you, not to make myself feel better.”

“You have no reason to be jealous of me Reid,” You still haven’t turned to face him, but he’d rather be talking to your back than not be talking to you at all.

“Please stop calling me that..” Spencer lets out a small breath at the end of his sentence, words tinged with a small amount of desperation. He didn’t want to be ‘Reid’ in your mind, he wanted to be Spencer. “I have a lot to be jealous of when it comes to you,” Admitting his faults outright made him feel nauseous, but he needed to break this brick wall you’d built around yourself when it came to him.

He couldn’t stand being an outsider in your life.

“I mean, you’re sweet, kind, you have an inherent knack for social situations that I could only dream of possessing,” He takes a small break in his sentence to nervously chew on the inside of his lip. “and your emotional vulnerability makes me so jealous of you that I want to just—” He exhales sharply.

“It’s very easy to be jealous of you,”

There’s a small pause after Spencer’s confession, tension lingering in the air as he watches you aimlessly fiddle with the edge of the sheets whilst you debate how to respond.

“Those are stupid things to be jealous of,”

Spencer physically deflates at your answer. “They’re not, people like you are envied because you’re so open with yourself, that’s something not a lot of people have, myself included,” Spencer takes a small step forward, cautious about scaring you off if he approached too quickly. “even if I wish I did..”

He places a deft hand on your shoulder and you jolt at the contact.

“I’m really sorry.” His voice drops to a point where it’s almost inaudible, and you swear you can hear his voice catch as he tries to maintain his composure. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore… please,”

You let out a small sigh of indignation, and Spencer knows he’s won you over. “Fine,”

“Thank you,” He gives your shoulder a small squeeze, and you return it with one of your own as you rest your hand on top of his.

“I’m still angry with you,”

“I know…”

“You’ve got a hell of a job making up for it,”

“I know,”

“Good,” You finally turn to look over your shoulder at him, and Spencer is glad to see that your expression isn’t one of loathing or frustration. “Get some sleep Spencer,”

“Okay…” He gives you a soft nod and a half-awkward smile, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue one that fills him with more contentment than it probably should. “Goodnight…” He hesitantly pulls his hand from your shoulder to walk back to his own hotel bed, walking as you tuck yourself into yours.

“Goodnight Spencer, we’ll talk about this in the morning,”

“Yeah… Thank you…”

Spencer flicks off the lamp beside him, relaxing as the room is shrouded into darkness and allowing himself to get the first proper night of rest he had in weeks now that he’s finally made his peace with you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #climacteric 🪶

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tommykinard6 · 3 days

Text

Buddie fans, my loves, come have a seat for a moment.

I want to have a chat, from a long time Buddie lover to you, whether you’re new or have been here a long time.

It’s okay.

I’ve been in the trenches with you. I’ve been pulling for Buck and Eddie to get together for years. I haven’t given up, even as I’ve seen other fans leave because they lost hope. I don’t blame them. The Buddie section of the fandom has been powerful and beautiful and all consuming. We’ve gone seven seasons and up until this point, not one of the two men in question was even confirmed to be queer.

But we all need to take a moment and breathe. That’s it. Stop doom scrolling for a moment and breathe in.

Good. Now hold for a moment.

And breathe out.

I’m going to get real here, alright? And you might not like everything I say and that’s ok.

We need to stop being a problem. Stay with me. I’m not saying we need to stop shipping Eddie and Buck. Far from it. I will love that ship forever. I’m not saying we need to stop our fanfics or fanart or our love for these two. Our feelings are valid. Many of us have been in love with these two for a long time. The Buckley-Diaz family is a strong unit.

Our feelings are valid and we feel what we feel. But our reactions are utterly and entirely our own responsibility.

We need to stop the bullying.

Let’s face it, many Buddie fans have also been long time bullies in the fandom. Particularly in regard to the actresses who have played the female love interests in the past. Don’t get me wrong, aside from maybe Ali, I have disliked every love interest introduced. But have we not yet learned to separate actress from character? If we are going to dislike an actress, let’s do it for a valid reason. Marisol’s actress for example is problematic. But many fans have rained hell down upon any woman introduced.

I’ve noticed this issue for a long time. But now we’re dealing with the issue being even more widespread because of Buck/Tommy. Now fans are bullying each other. The fandom is divided, even in what is probably one of the better seasons we’ve gotten (in my opinion). I need you guys to stay with me here.

Buck is bi.

Let’s say that again. Evan Buckley is bisexual. A major character on a major show on a major network, previously a womanizer and still a very masculine figure, is queer.

This is monumental. This is amazing.

But so many of you are letting your feelings about Buddie get in the way of appreciating the progress we’ve made. Especially with the reintroduction of Tommy Kinard, Buck’s love interest.

Let’s clear up a couple of things, shall we? Tommy Kinard is not Sal DeLuca. He is not Captain Gerrard. While he was part of the old 118 and definitely was in the old boys club, not only is he not the major problem, but in most cases that he’s an asshole, it can be traced back to his own secret. It’s not great, sure. But let’s look at the facts. Chimney is friends and still keeps in touch with him. Hen appears to hold no animosity and was clearly comfortable with him. In Bobby Begins, they all are friends. And clearly, Tommy has undergone a massive self-growth period. You cannot try to back up your point with inaccurate facts.

People can change. People can also be forgiven. It’s the prerogative of those involved. Enough said.

“But TK6,” you may say, “Buck should be with Eddie! Tommy is a plot device!”

Let’s set aside instant gratification culture really quick and talk about storytelling. You cannot get everything you want when you want it. You also cannot have your cake and eat it too. Buck and Eddie, if both queer, were never going to come out at the same time. Do we really want that?! Because identity is messy. Self discovery is messy. Eddie has Catholic guilt. Buck has self esteem/worth issues. Life isn’t a fanfiction. The real possibility of their relationship surviving such a transition isn’t all that high. IF Eddie is canonically queer, he’s going to have a rougher path than Buck has had.

Also, everyone is a plot device. Let’s get real. If a character doesn’t move a plot along, what’s the point? YES, Tommy is there for a storyline. That doesn’t in anyway invalidate his existence or his presence in Buck’s life.

If you want an instant Buddie storyline, visit ao3! There are amazing stories on there.

Now let’s talk about Buck/Tommy, or TEvan.

I am a long time Buddie lover. I also proudly ship TEvan. Yes, those can coexist. I don’t often multiship, but it’s a beautiful thing. I want Buddie to be endgame, sure! But I’m also okay if TEvan lasts. If they end up being endgame, will I be disappointed about Buddie? Of course. I will also be thrilled because Buck and Tommy are a sweet couple and I’m here for it.

As a queer woman, I’m happy that Buck is bi. Multisexual representation is still sorely lacking. Male sexuality that lets a man keep his masculinity while being queer? Even more so. Just take a look at the ao3 tag. Buck is emasculated in many fics. That’s why I stopped reading a lot.

We have a ship here that includes two very masculine men, who are emotionally vulnerable and exploring something new. I understand ship disappointment. But the negativity is wild. We need to stop the bullying. We need to stop the cheating storylines. We need to stop making Tommy into an ab*s*r only because we apparently can’t handle a love interest being a good person.

At the end of the day, these are fictional characters. It’s a fictional show. But these are real people. All of us are sitting here behind our screens with real feelings. We need to stop.

Buddie may one day happen. And maybe they won’t. TEvan might be endgame. They might not be. Tis the way of 9-1-1. It’s exciting, isn’t it? Waiting for something new and exciting. It was starting to get a little stagnant.

As a queer person, I’m not trying to gatekeep anyone. However, we cannot sit here and say “stop queerbaiting us!!!!” (They weren’t, we’ve always had queer representation on 9-1-1) “give us more representation” and then when they give it to us say, “NO! Not that way!”

If it was about the representation, it being Eddie or Tommy would matter a lot less.

So if you are someone using representation to shield yourself, kindly just be honest with yourself and everyone else.

In the words of our Lady and Savior Taylor Swift, “You need to calm down”.

Now, back off into the world of scrolling you go, my lovelies. Remember, keep an open mind and breathe. At the end of the day, it’s a show. But I for one will happily wait for every episode because I’m loving this.

#911 abc #9-1-1 #911 season 7 #911 show #tommy kinard #bucktommy #evan buckley #buddie #eddie diaz #911 spoilers #911 meta #I’m sure I’ll get hate and I’m prepared for that #however #I’d like to point out that you’ll simply prove my point #it’s two am and I just want people to get along #lgbtq community #lgbtq

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shreddedparchment · 3 days

Text

The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

There will be NO tags.

#loki x reader #medieval!loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki x reader fanfic #loki x reader fic #marvel fanfiction

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taintedtort · 1 day

Note

can you do some kazuha (genshin) fluff headcanons please🙏🙏🙏 its a bit hard to find some on here

" BEST BOYFRIEND AWARD! "

summary. kazuha headcannons :)

character. kazuha :P

warnings. gn!reader, established relationship, modern!au in a few

a/n. i love doing these! i do agree that we need more kazuha hcs lolz

☆ he lets you play with his hair :) loves when you braid it

☆ he writes haiku‘s about you, but sometimes he gets a little embarrassed reading them

☆ rarely ever gets mad at you. like ever.

☆ ^ if you do somehow manage to upset him, i think he’d be very forgiving and probably forget about it if you just apologized

☆ he takes soooo many photos of you (they’re either super super good and make professional photographers look bad, or they’re blurry and horrible)

☆ he prints out photos of you guys and hangs them on his wall. when he’s on the ship he keeps a couple of his favorites in his pocket/wallet

☆ there‘s a polaroid photo of you in the back of his phone case

☆ he makes you hearts out of gum wrappers lol

☆ he asks you to wear ALL his clothes before a long trip so they all smell like you

☆ probably snags one of your shirts or something before a long trip as well so he can sleep on it

☆ would protect you with his LIFE. NOTHING bad is happening to you

☆ gives you flowers every chance he gets, sometimes for no reason at all

☆ ^sometimes fake ones so you can keep them forever

☆ refuses to let you open any kind of door (that tiktok trend where the guy jumps over the car to open the door 😭 that’s him)

☆ loves to match clothes with you

☆ constantly touching you. either holding your hand, laying a hand on your thigh, or an arm around your shoulder… he’s gotta be touching you all the time

☆ calls you every petname ever

☆^asks which one you like the best and calls you that one most of the time

☆ practically forces you to take his clothes. you probably have half of his wardrobe at this point

☆ really values your opinions

☆ he pays attention to your music tastes and listens to whatever songs you like

☆ teases you a lot

☆ buys you so many gifts. he never misses an important date

☆ has great memory, never forgets a thing. both a blessing and a curse for you…

☆ walks/drives you home, even if it’s super out of the way. never lets you go alone, especially if it’s nighttime

☆ doesn’t even look at anyone else, you’re the only person who matters to him

☆ i don’t think he gets jealous easily, he fully trusts you

☆ his patience is practically never ending. you’re grateful for it most of the time

☆ compliments you 24/7. there’s never a moment for you to even consider being insecure

☆ he talks about marrying you all the time

☆ he only sees a future with you in it, anything else is unacceptable to him

☆ talks about you to literally everyone. no one is safe

☆ never makes you doubt if he loves you, it’s so sickeningly obvious <3

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the-bar-sinister · 1 day

Text

There's lots of gay subtext in Ace Attorney.

But when looking specifically at subtext that might be intentionally put in the narrative by the creators with the intention that the character in question is actually gay, I think the main character with the most evidence behind this is actually Apollo Justice.

Our other main characters, Phoenix Wright and Athena Cykes both have obvious subtextually heteronormative romantic partners. To an adult, straight, culturally normative audience, Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey read normatively as an obvious romantic pairing. This is also the case for Athena Cykes and Simon Blackquill. In Great Ace Attorney the same can be said for Ryuunosuke and Susato.

I repeat– to an adult, straight culturally normative audience, the romantic subtext between these characters is clear. If you showed these games to an American movie going public, that would be the obvious read by the audience.

Yes, each of these characters, Phoenix, Athena, and Ryuunosuke also have strong queer romantic subtext with another character. (Miles, Juniper, and Kazuma respectively).

However, that's not my point. It's not significant that each of the other three characters has homosexual relationship subtext.

It is significant that Apollo Justice does not have a character with whom he has heteronormative romantic subtext.

The closest thing Apollo Justice has to a "heteronormative romantic subtext" is Trucy Wright– whom we, the audience know is his sister.

And yes, you can make the argument that there is deliberate incestuous subtext between them– a kind of Luke/Leia style relationship with which the audience is teased by the narrative. Dhurke brings it up directly in Spirit of Justice.

However, this is still not a heterenormative subtext, because of its taboo nature. More taboo, culturally at this point, than homosexuality.

On top of the lack of heteronormative romantic subtext, Apollo also is on the receiving end some of the strongest and most overt of the homosexual subtext in the series.

There is of course the famous "meet cute" introduction between Apollo and Klavier–

“I must say, I'm used to being inspected by the ladies... but this is the first time I've felt this way with another man.”

This is without question overt homosexual subtext.

However, there is another, even more subtextually clearly defined moment in Dual Destinies. Honestly, the subtext is all over Dual Destinies in the way Apollo reacts to Clay Terran's death (basically completely losing it) but there's one particular moment that deliberately draws your attention to the relationship in a queer way.

In one of the last cases of the game, everyone is delicately trying to explain to the judge that Aura Blackquill was in love with Metis Cykes (who was murdered) in a queer way. It's a big “they’re lesbians, harold” moment.

And then the conversation immediately turns to Apollo Justice and how he’s just had someone who was “important to him” murdered, too.

The narrative specifically draws you attention to the relationship that Aura and Metis had, and compares it to the relationship between Apollo and Clay.

You are specifically invited to speculate about what kind of important relationship Clay and Apollo had, and why Apollo has been affected so incredibly deeply.

So yeah. Between Clay, Klavier, and the lack of anything resembling a heteronormative romantic relationship for Apollo in the games, I think he has the strongest narrative evidence that he's actually being written deliberately as gay.

#apollo justice #klapollo #claypollo #ace attorney #ace attorney meta #queer subtext #queer reading #queer media #media analysis #media literacy #🔍⚔️

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scekrex · 2 days

Note

Love your writing!!

Can I request an Adam x Lucifer’s Ex! reader? Reader is basically the same rank as Lucifer was (so he’s the same strength as him too) Basically, they split up after he and Lilith got together and gave Eve the Apple. Reader is extremely depressed about it but then he meets one of the humans from Eden, Adam . And they find solidarity and comfort in going through the same/similar situation.

Lowkey giving that one scene from Steven Universe (No idea if you’ve watched/like SU so, if you’re not sure what I’m talking about, I’ll link it here. (If you want, you can probably just skip to the time stamps or watch all of it, either’s fine, but it starts at 2:33 and ends around 3:11

Spoilers for Steven Universe, if you even care.

https://youtu.be/PnlRR0rX_Q0?feature=shared

(The context for the SU scene is ofc different, but just the overall vibe of it is what I mean.) but just 2 people abandoned by someone who was supposed to be their soulmate (Twice for Adam) and them finding love in each other in the end.

(Like, imagine both the fluff AND angst potential.)

Also!! If/After you write this one, I might request a Part 2 of this with angst for the aftermath of EP.8. (ONLY if you’re ok with it OFC! If not, just tell me in your A/N for this one and I won’t send it!!)

I hope you have a great day!!!! 💙💙

Okay first of all: gimme that EP 8 request right now, I need it soooo badly °^° I haven't seen SU but I've watched the scene you linked and it helped to get the vibe right so much, this is a lil short but dragging it out just to make it appear longer felt wrong. I hope you like it though. Also friendly reminder: this is set in Eden before Adam became a douchebag.

I'm a jester and I'm yours, call me your fool

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt (with comfort)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Eden had always been the place for you to ge whenever you felt sad or upset, it calmed you down, eased your mind, made your thoughts shut up for only a couple moments. Lucifer had betrayed you, you knew that, you also knew that it had been for the best to end things with him before he would take it too far with his wish for free will and with the things that were going on between him and Lilith. And before you even realized how sad that made you feel, to be betrayed, to be replaced by a mortal soul that would never be as pure as you were, you started crying - it wasn’t loud and if someone wouldn’t have paid attention it was also not visible but Adam did pay attention. Lucifer and Lilith had given Eve the apple, the forbidden fruit, how much further would heaven allow them to go? You weren’t sure. What you were sure about though, was the fact that you missed Lucifer, you missed his warmth, his chaotic yet gentle way of handling things, no matter what it was. You missed his creative mind, his joyful character, the love he had held for you that he had never been able to hide. You missed your clumsy blonde little angel - you shook your head, no, he was no longer yours.

And while you tried to sort your emotions out, the brunette human carefully creeped closer, he noticed your sadness and despite the fact that he didn’t know why you were crying, he felt like he understood without knowing the true reason - he had heard them whispering about it. About how Lucifer had left his boyfriend in order to get together with the first woman, his ex wife, Lilith. And while one loss alone had been seemingly impossible to carry, Adam had not only lost Lilith to his former best friend, he had also lost Eve. Eve, who had tried to talk him into eating the apple as well, he had refused to though, he wanted to remain pure, if she decided that wasn’t for her though, then that was her deal and not Adam’s.

Once he had reached you, he quietly sat down next to you, he wanted to take the sadness away from you, a creature as gorgeous and heavenly as yours should not sit in Eden and cry. He wanted to ask you why you were crying, who caused all those tears but he felt like it wasn’t his place to do so - you were an angel after all. Was he even allowed to sit next to you? The first man didn’t know, but he was sure that if he wouldn’t be allowed near you, you would tell him so. Lucifer might be disobeying heaven’s rules, but you? You looked too pure to do so.

You quickly wiped your tears away as soon as you noticed the presence next to you, when you turned your head to look at the person that had decided to take their place by your side, you were quite surprised to see the face of the first man there. “You look so sad,” the brunette hummed as he reached out to gently touch your cheek. Your golden, broken looking eyes met equally broken brown ones and you somehow found comfort in them, even though they belonged to a total stranger. “Yeah,” you softly chuckled at his words, a small smile forced itself onto your lips, “I guess that’s normal when you get dumped, though.” So the rumors had been true, Lucifer had left his boyfriend for Adam’s former wife. He inhaled deeply, “That’s what love brings.” And yeah, he had a point. Love was able to bring joy and happiness, but it could also take those feelings away from you within seconds. Carefully you leaned into Adam’s touch and closed your eyes as you breathed in the scent of the brunette. “A creature as beautiful as you shouldn’t be sad over losing someone like Lucifer though,” the first man continued and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away all remains of your tears. “That’s so easy to say, Adam,” your voice cracked when you said his name and you opened your eyes again, “He was everything.” Adam nodded, he understood, “So was Eve. And Lilith. But sometimes they choose a different path than you do and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

And looking at it that way made you realize that Adam was in the same situation as you were, a situation that tore apart everything just because Lucifer had made a reckless decision. You had lost everything and so had Adam, you were sitting in the same boat, sailing the same ocean of sadness. But now you had found each other, so at least you weren’t sailing alone anymore. “Adam?” you asked quietly as you looked at the first man, making sure you’d get nothing but honesty when your eyes met his, “Can you stay?” And without hesitation the first man nodded, this would not only bring you comfort and take a little bit of the sadness away from you, no, the brunette would also find comfort in this, you would keep his mind busy and that he was very thankful for.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

77 notes · View notes

forsworned · 2 days

Note

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't.

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night.

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty smut #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan smut #eventual smut #alternate universe #cod au

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weirdocat83 · 3 days

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A bit of a random thought but I am VERY VERY GLAD that not many people know what the hell SVSSS is.

TGCF? Angsty and maybe very gay but otherwise fine. MDZS? So much yearning but worth it! But be aware that the Bichen extra exists. Overall good series’ even if you don’t look too deeply. For both these series, someone normal could feasibly enter without any fandom knowledge and still have a good time or put it down before they reach fandom knowledge that can never be unseen. They both have manhwa, donghua and full novels in many languages and MDZS has The Untamed. Maybe some controversy arises but I don’t see a lot.

SVSSS? Legit the FIRST CHAPTERS are FULL of fandom culture and references to things that most people would shy away from. It is great for fans looking for something different from the same thing that makes fun of the genre while being sarcastic and somehow very thoughtful about everything that goes on. That being said, if it ever found its way to mainstream, it’d get cancelled so fast. People in fandom argue over characters while understanding the depth of them and the context they are a part of. Most people who are not obsessive fan-people tend not to do that. Like, yes I’d love a proper manhwa or donghua or even a live action for SVSSS but frankly I think there’s a good reason it doesn’t exist and that that fandom is novel only for the most part.

The friend who introduced me to danmei actually got into the fandom through the TGCF donghua. Not the novels. So imagine someone watching SVSSS no context. It would probably be a trainwreck.

But yeah, that’s just my thoughts on the matter.

#scum villian self saving system #mxtx svsss #svsss #tgcf #mdzs #this fandom is nice #let’s keep it that way

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cartoonsbyandie · 3 days

Note

Have you done Shinichi for charecter bingo before? Love your art btw!! <3

I don't think so actually!

Oh Mr. One Truth Prevails himself... People have written so many metas on this guy, what can I say that a hundred others haven't said better. I think everyone in the DetCo fandom has a different Shinichi in their hearts, based on what aspects of his character you fixate on/what you add/what's most important to you. Which I guess is true for all characters ever, but it feels especially true for Shinichi.

My slant for Shinichi tends to be as a foil to Kogoro, the two of them making each other's lives better by being a part of them and having far more common ground than not. I like Shinichi best when he sees that the people around him both want to and are able to help him, that he doesn't have to solve everything on his own. That maybe sometimes he needs and wants that support, whether it's literal or emotional. I like Shinichi when he gets to be silly and have fun, when he gets to be his genuine self even while he's stuck as Conan, but also when the countless traumas he's endured are actually taken serious. This kid's parents abandoned him at thirteen, he's been shot and stabbed and drugged and poisoned and nearly killed dozens of times. He was forced to hide in a coin locker and hyperventilated until he passed out. Antidote or not, he will never be the same, and he wasn't starting from a great place to begin with.

On a lighter note Shinichi is like the only character in any fandom I've ever been in who has like a dozen different ships and they all feel equally valid, he's gotta be one of the most shipable character of all time

#shinichi kudo #kudo shinichi #HEY I'M JIMMY #jimmy kudo #dcmk #detective conan

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someobsessionrequired · 21 hours

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OP Characters Favorite ways to cuddle!

Ft. Kid, killer, Heat

KID!

Oh boy, I hope you are not the type to have to get up throughout the night, because there is no moving away from this man!

Most nights will end with you pulled onto his chest, head pressed against his shockingly soft bisep and arm wrapped snuggley around you

His hand rests against your upper thigh, this hold might come across as gentle in the moment but the second you attempt to wiggle out of this position it's almost as though his body reacts on it's own, pulling you in tightly against him

Best of luck to anyone who does need to get up in the middle of the night because this man sleeps like a boulder. If a ship was to appear in the distance this man would sense it within an instant snapping awake, but the second it's you thrashing in his arms saying his name and fighting against his hold ...no dice

On particularly rough nights the position changes up drastically

He will press your back against his chest wrapping himself in around you, large arm resting in front of your body holding you close

He really is a softy and only really cares about holding you close even on the hottest nights against both your better judgments

Speaking of, this man runs hot...and I mean hot! porthole window cracked open is an often must for both your sake

KILLER!

Oh this sweet man! He is such a cuddly dude once you get him to open up

First while of sharing a bed is awkward because this man refuses to take off the mask, and don't push him to otherwise the things never coming off

He loves to hold you close when you sleep often spooning you

He will have you laying against his chest, one arm under your head with you either laying on his upper bicep on just under his arm, his other arm resting around your form

The arm wrapped around you moves in soothing patterns on your body, he never is the first to sleep and will always make sure you are relaxed and taken care of before he submits to sleep

After some time he will remove the mask for bed, and aside from the pure distraction of how gorgeous this man is the next biggest issue will be the hair

As gorgeous as this man's hair is it doesn't take long to realize the mask was the only thing holding it in place, often just as you're starting to drift off killer will dip his head in closer to yours holding you tighter, intern large portions of his hair spilling over into your face

This man is a light sleeper, which in theory is great if you need to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night... but this man is also clingy as hell when he's tired, often getting up with you and waiting outside the bathroom door just to sweep you back up into bed

HEAT!

Another absolutely cuddly boy! He is the type who is always down for a cuddle often leading to the two of you sneaking off just to have a nap in a hammock

When the two of you settle into bed at the end of the night it becomes an entanglement of Limbs quickly

There is absolutely no consistency in which the two of you sleep, often you find yourself playing rag doll as heat slots different limbs at strange angles holding you close

Absolutely the type to mutter on about nothing and everything as he gets tired, mindlessly running his hands though your hair and rubbing soothing patterns on your back

Due to his powers this dude runs hot as hell, but will whine about opening the porthole because he's 'Freezing' for some strange reason even though his body temperature feels warm he himself seems to run cold

Another difficult one to wake up, once he's out there is no amount of shuffling away from him that will wake him up

If anything he just pulls you in tighter, however a simple mutter of his name will wake him out of a dead slumber

Writters Note!

Hehe should I do more of these? If so who?

Requests are open for anything! I will write for most One Piece Characters!!

#one piece hcs #one piece #headcanons #kidpirates #killer #eustass kid #heat #fluff #headcanon request #cuddles #cuddle #reader #x reader #kid x reader #killer x reader #heat x reader

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the-broken-pen · 2 days

Note

Hiii, I love your writing! It's so great that you're back! Could you write something like two actors are playing hero/villain in a movie or theater, but both of them sometimes just gets too in character/or just gets too stuck in character, so for like moments they actually forget that they are just acting?

“You didn’t think I’d let you die by anyone else’s hand but mine, did you?” The villain cocked their head to the side, grinning.

Distantly, the hero registered the whispering of stage commands, but tuned it out.

“You can’t just kill anyone who threatens me,” they argued back. They watched as the villain’s grin sharpened.

“Watch me,” the villain whispered, stepping closer. Fake blood was drying on the side of the hero’s head, and it itched more than usual. Must be a new brand from costuming.

“I could arrest you,” they offered, but they let the hesitation show on their face. Visible enough for the camera to catch their unwillingness, no matter how fake it was. Good enough nobody could tell the difference between real and not.

“You won’t.”

The hero tipped one head to the side

“And why’s that?”

The hero shifted, leaning in towards the villain.

“Because you’re mine,” the villain whispered, tone playful as their eyes seared into the hero’s.

The hero’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t on purpose.

Something kindled in their chest.

“Oh yeah?”

The villain shrugged one shoulder in perfect time to the script, and the hero pulled the next line to the tip of their tongue—

“Prove it.”

That was not the next line.

That wasn’t a line at all.

The villain blinked just once, the only sign of surprise they would allow, before their grin widened. Their shoulders loosened into something feral, something that delighted in this change.

Something that belonged off-stage.

“I’m covered in the blood of the people who hurt you,” the villain’s voice was smooth sliding down the hero’s spine. They shivered. “What more proof do you want, love.”

They blushed furiously at the nickname, even underneath the stage makeup, and at the pleased look on the villain’s face, it was visible.

What was the line what was the line what—

Their hands fisted into the front of the villain’s costume, dragging them closer. The villain let them, hand settling on the hero’s waist in a movement far too smooth.

“I don’t know,” the hero murmured, and they were just as surprised as the villain when their lips hovered just over the other’s ear. “Why don’t you stop trying to kill me, for starters.”

The villain tugged them closer, and the hero’s eyes went to their lips.

The villain looked at the hero like they wanted to devour them.

Fuck, what had been the line—

“Oh, but you’re so pretty covered in blood, Hero,” the villain crooned, and the hero opened their mouth to say something, their tongue a separate entity from their brain at this point—

“Hold!” Someone off-stage called, and they both froze. A second later, they were halfway across the stage from one another. Slipping out of being the hero and back into being themself felt like hitting a brick wall.

If the way the villain shuddered was any indication, they had forgotten they were playing a character too.

The hero turned away to face the tech crew, hand settling over their face to hide their blush.

The villain’s gaze was molten and heavy on their shoulders, even from as far away as they were.

“I don’t think that’s in the blocking,” the stage manager frowned, flipping through the script.

None of that was the blocking. No matter how much the stage manager searched those pages they would never find those lines.

Fuck.

“Improv,” the hero choked out, flushing. “It was, uh. A creative choice—“

From behind one of the curtains, they heard a crew member snort, muttering something about teenage actors and horniness—

The villain was smirking, a wicked thing.

“Right,” the stage manager said slowly, brow furrowed from where they sat. They murmured something into their headset, eyes shifting up between the villain and the hero, before they slid a screen in front of themself.

Just barely, the hero could make out the shape of the scene they had just filmed.

The screen went black, the room silent for a moment, before the stage manager let out a long suffering sigh.

“We’re changing the blocking.”

“What?” The hero yelped.

The villain settled their hands into their pockets, unbothered and grinning.

“We’re keeping the scene,” the stage manager nodded towards their tablet, and the hero almost passed out on the spot. They watched the stage manager eye the pleased and possessive look on the villain’s face. “For now, though, let’s call it a wrap for the day.”

Shuffling began, lights flickering off, and the hero escaped to their own dressing room, panting slightly.

Dear god, they were so fucked. They had forgotten they were acting, again—

“Improv, hm?” The villain grinned, lock sliding into place. The hero hadn’t even heard them come in.

The hero groaned. “I don’t know what happened—“

“Yeah,” the villain nodded, and they were closer than they had been a moment ago.

The hero swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

The hero waved one hand between them. “For, you know—“

The villain was still smiling.

It was then they remember who had fought so hard in the writers’ room for the villain and the hero to end up together.

‘Enemies to lovers,’ the villain had said, eyes dark. ‘The fans will love it. There’s been sub plot for the last two seasons.’

The directors had pushed back, but now—

Oh. The villain wasn’t mad.

They were pleased.

The hero choked.

“You,” the hero tried.

“Me,” the villain agreed, and then they were kissing, all-consuming and desperate.

They made a noise in the back of their throat, the villain twining their hand into the hero’s hair.

“You forgot you were acting,” the villain murmured against their lips, and kissed them again before the hero could defend themself. “That I’m not really your villain and you aren’t my hero.”

The villain settled the hero onto the counter, coming to stand between their legs, one hand on their hip.

“Fuck,” they gasped, and they could feel the villain’s grin against their skin.

“Mhm.”

Somehow, the hero’s arms had ended up looped over the villain’s shoulders.

“Maybe stop killing people, and I’ll consider it,” they said between breaths.

“What?” The villain pulled back slightly.

“The line I forgot,” the hero said. They could drown in the villain’s eyes, they were sure of it. “Maybe stop killing people—“

“Don’t care,” the villain bit out, and then their mouth was on the hero’s again and nothing else mattered.

Maybe they weren’t truly hero and villain—but god were they good at pretending.

Three months later, the internet couldn’t decide what was better—that finally, after years, the hero and villain had ended up together on screen; or that off stage, their actors were desperately, hopelessly in love too.

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ofstardustanddreaming · 2 days

Note

AHHH!!! I saw that you write for my FAVORITE character ever which gale from bg3!

So if you haven't done this already could you please do some cuddle time with him? I need the fluff 🩷 thanks so much!

this is genius, i love Gale lol. cuddling with him would fix every issue i have. i also hope you don't mind if i took the request in a slightly different format! i wanted to do the 4 times character does x, and the 1 time you do x.

cuddle bug

oneshot summary: 4 times gale initiates cuddles with you, and the 1 time that you initiate cuddles with gale. (gale is a major cuddle bug and would love pulling you in at any point. not that you wouldn't pull him in for a cuddle, he just loves pulling you in more.)

content warnings: none

fandom: baldur's gate 3

character: gale dekarios x reader

gender neutral reader

one: The first time that Gale pulls you into a cuddle session is at camp, and you're both new to the relationship. It's a nerve wracking way to make contact, and it feels awkward. But it's warm. He wanted to cuddle and be close to you, and what better way than to do it awkwardly.

The night is warm and fireflies are flying around everywhere. The camp members are enjoying themselves for the first time in a couple months, where missions are completed and there's a little bit of down time to enjoy the night. You and Gale officiated your relationship last week, and now have the first night to enjoy the branching of your relationship.

You sit next to him at a more secluded area of the camp, ensuring a moment of silence for you both. Gale grabs your hand as you both talk the night away, the feeling of warmth causing you to shiver.

"It's a nice night. And you're a great leader to be able to pull this off tonight." He glances over at you, both of you smiling at one another. Then he does the unexpected, where he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. You lean into the warmth of his embrace, enjoying the body heat when you're both away from the fire.

He pulls you over to his bed roll to continue the cuddle session, where you both felt a bit odd about it. You could never figure out if you were applying too much pressure, or if you adjusted yourself if that would create an issue of moving too much. Sure, it was awkward. But it allowed you both to know what cuddling positions you'd love moving forward.

two: The second time Gale pulls you in for a cuddle is after an intense session of a battle. He was worried that you had died, and never wanted to let you leave his arms again.

The fight with Thorm nearly took you out, your health very low. Shadowheart barely managed to keep you alive with her healing, but advised you get strong rest before moving on to the next quest to be filled. Gale, the man that he is, was sick with worry throughout your entirety of healing.

He found himself sitting next to you while you rested, very hesitant to touch you within the first few days, not wanting to make any injuries you had worse. But when you show some signs of being on the mend, he wasted no time laying down next to you, pulling your head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around you as delicately as possible. He didn't want to move you too much, knowing that it can worsen injuries. But it was a nice initial point for him to have.

"Gods, you had me worried deeply for a while there." He murmurs to you, who's barely conscious to hear him say that. He slowly runs one hand over your arm that had reached over to wrap around your chest.

He just wanted to see you safe, the worry he felt seeing you on the brink of death was enough to shake him. He vowed from then on to be as much of help as possible to you in fights.

three: The third time Gale pulls you in is when he senses you've had a bad day. He's never one to shy away from the thought that a good cuddle session can fix a bad mood.

He finds you kicking dirt around on the outside of camp. You have the list of quests in your hand, frustrated at how much needed to be completed. You truly want to be helpful to them, to help as many people as you can, but it was burning you out at both ends. Something that Gale could tell, and his heart hurt for you.

He approaches you where you are, grabbing you by the shoulders. It takes one gentle look from him for you to start choking on your cries, and he pulls you close. He knows you need the lightest cuddle session to help you feel better, with light bouts of praise from him. Which is exactly what he supplies.

He wrestles you over to his tent, the headache you have pounding away. The dusk of the night was coming upon you all, and you feel as if there would be no time to sleep if you had to get to these missions soon. But he pulls you down with him, ensuring you were comfortable.

"Oh, sweet love, you're doing so well. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now, but you're doing so well." He says, the way he was cuddling with you feels like a weighted blanket. It lulls you to a calm sleep that night, to wake in the morning with a fresh start.

four: The fourth time that Gale wants cuddles is after an argument. You both always need a breather after an intense argument, but you'll always find your way back to each other to talk things through, and then move into comfort of each other's arms.

Oh, the argument was massive. It took a toll on you both, where eventually the camp had to pull you guys away from each other to cool it down. They really felt worried when Gale's magic started sparking, not wanting the orb to go off, and you had your hand on your weapon, they didn't want you to pull it out to start swinging.

The camp had split off into teams to watch over the both of you, letting you both get what you needed to off your chests. Then they would all shove you towards each other to say those rants to one another in a calmer fashion. You both speak with a softness to one another now, trying to see the other's viewpoint.

"I'm so sorry love." Was how Gale responded to your responding of love, and he pulled you in close to him. He is usually the first to reach to you after an argument as well, wanting you in his arms as quick as he can.

You lean into the touch, craving the touch of the man you love. You're always there to accept it, glad he would be the one to offer, always nervous about the rejection if you offered it. You always tend to worry after an argument, if he would ever take you back. So it always makes you happy that he wants to cuddle you close after such an argument.

one: The one time that you pull Gale in for a cuddle session is when he's had a bad day. When he's had a day of insecurities, wondering if he's good enough for you, is when you know you have to pull him in. He'll be too nervous to seek you out. He finds solace in your arms at night, getting comfort from you when you hold him and say he's enough.

Mystra had really done a number on him. He felt he had to live up to imaginary expectations you had in order for you to still want him. It takes time to get over that sort of line of thinking, and you reassure him that you'd never leave him based on what he thought you would want from him.

"I don't expect you to be perfect, or to be a strong wizard in order for me to be with you, you know. I'm with you Gale, because you're the kindest, sweetest person who does kind things for me. Such as cuddling me when I'm feeling down. You brighten my days with your stories." You comfort him, pulling him into your chest, where he buries himself into your neck.

"I don't ever want to leave you." You whisper to him, letting him get every ounce of emotion out on you, as you run your hands through his hair. He sighs shakily, and you feel the tears on your neck. It's a quiet night, nothing more is needed as you continue to whisper praises into his ear as you both fall asleep.

#bg3 #bg3 imagine #bg3 oneshot #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 imagine #baldur's gate 3 oneshot #gale #gale imagine #gale oneshot #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios imagine #gale dekarios oneshot

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mostrovskaa · 12 hours

Note

Hi! I love your art, your color and shape work is amazing!!

I wanted to ask if you have any Polish media you can recommend to us non-Poles - movies, shows, stuff like that

Hi! Thank you so much for the ask! It is a great pleasure for me to share some Polish media to the people! I just have to preface this and tell especially my fellow Poles that: I am by no means an expert on the subject, I like a lot of bad media, I like a lot of children's media and mainstream media that I love to shape by my own creativity ok and I don't know every single niche thing so please don't come for me. Be nice please or I'll die of embarrassment! With that being said, here are just some of my picks of some cool things I like that I would recommend to check out! (Again I don't know about how available these are around the internet and what would be the subtitle situation but still, i love these pieces of media and think they are interesting to even just read or check out visually if anything!)

- The Akademia Pana Kleksa movies (Akademia Pana Kleksa, Podróże Pana Kleksa and Pan Kleks w Kosmosie) (1984-1988)- These children's fantasy and fable inspired beautiful movies based on a book incorporate beautiful puppetry and set designs, visually they are one of my biggest inspirations. Having both dark,whimsical and sci-fi elements they have been in my visual language since I saw them as a kid! Really really recommend looking into them, even though they may be wacky and strange at times!

And they contain absolutely amazing songs :

youtube

Available to watch without subtitles unfortunately here, but worth to check out the visuals of all the movies in the series: https://www.ninateka.pl/vod/dla-dzieci/akademia-pana-kleksa/

- Poszukiwany, Poszukiwana (Man- woman wanted) (1972) (one of my favorite movies ever!) - a comedy film about a museum curator who gets accused of stealing a painting and goes into hiding as a maid. You would think with polish humor it would be the typical: haha man dressed as a woman, hilarious! type stuff but no! It’s funny, charming, sweet and smart and surprisingly based. Marysia, just one chance please queen.

available to watch with subtitles here (alongside many other great Polish movies): https://35mm.online/vod/fabula/poszukiwany-poszukiwana

- Ranczo (tv show, 10 seasons, I believe it’s available on Netflix) - the epitome of Polish society. This is just pure Poland in tv show format. A timeless classic, never gets old, never stops being funny and relevant. Watched it a million times and could watch a million more and not get bored. An American woman with Polish heritage comes back to her family village and chaos ensues. I think the characters are so well defined you don’t need to know so much deep Polish lore to get what is going on so I really recommend it!

Other stuff you can find on Netflix I recommend are: 1670 - comedy show about 17th century Poland, Rojst (all seasons)- crime show set mainly in the 90’s.

And something that’s a Polish phenomenon that I absolutely love is media based around popular copypasta: a short film Fanatyk based on this timeless classic of a copypasta, and a tv show called Emigracja XD - about polish guys finding work in the UK.

And obviously the shows I make art for are always something I encourage people check out like Czterdziestolatek (amazing old show with a cult following) and Ojciec Mateusz (absolute shitty formulaic 30 season tv show that i love with all my heart).

Thank you again, sorry for the long post! There’s obviously many more cool Polish media to watch but this is just what immediately popped into my head! :-))

#long post #asks #:-)

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porcelainseashore · 1 day

Text

Into the Ether (3)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, ...)

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, minor character death, RE characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Sherry, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Baker Family, Merchant, Patrick), VtM concepts (Camarilla, Anarch, Sabbat, Second Inquisition, Toreador, Ventrue, Brujah, Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian, Tremere, Ghouls).

Authors' Note: Suggestive themes, violence and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Fires of Rebellion

“So, talk,” you demanded, crossing your arms as you kept yourself at a suitable distance from Leon.

Both of you were currently walking up north along Good Street towards the City College. The plan had been to take a left at some point and head over to the park by Warren Street, where hopefully there would be some benches for you to relax on. It was still early enough in the night for your surroundings to be relatively bustling with people, so you weren’t too worried that the man beside you would try anything risky or stupid. In any case, you knew where you kept your pepper spray at hand if things went south.

“You’d already sensed it from the beginning,” he stated, swallowing thickly. How was it this hard to tell you who he really was? If he could sweat blood, he’d fill a whole bucket’s worth. Pig’s blood. A cop in pig’s blood. He knew plenty of people who’d pay to see him drenched in the vermillion fluid. “That I’m not exactly normal.” That was what he settled with.

“What, you mean like a serial killer or something?” you scoffed, shaking your head in mild vexation.

“No.” His voice was solemn but firm as he glanced at you briefly, making eye contact. “I didn’t… assault you, not in the way you think.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I just- I do things… that aren’t exactly normal.”

Great, Leon. You just made yourself sound like a fucking magician. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and paused his footsteps. “This is going well.”

You almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to be having such a difficult time articulating what he wanted to say. Was it some sort of kink he was talking about? The logical part of your mind berated you, insisting that this could go down far worse than you imagined, but you pushed it aside.

“Like what?” you asked, your morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

His jaw tightened as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side.

Before he could respond, you took the initiative, positioning yourself in front of him as a form of challenge. “Show me,” you requested.

His head darted in every direction, scanning the area with an animalistic instinctiveness and you thought you saw his eyes illuminate in a different color. However, when you blinked a second later, it had returned to its original pale shade of blue. “Too many people,” he muttered. “I’ll do as you ask, but we need to head somewhere quieter.”

You should’ve ran off after he said that, but your legs stayed rooted to the ground. Your lack of self-preservation was alarming. “The park, then?” you suggested.

He nodded in compromise. “I could work with that.”

The rest of the walk there took place in awkward silence, as you dwelled on what he would do and whether you were walking into one big, fat trap. Well, at least Patrick had his business card. And PIs, they had a registered license, didn’t they? It was too late to back out now, you’d gone this far and you wanted to see it through.

When you had found a secluded bench at one of the shaded corners of the park, he spoke up again. “Do you remember the first night we met? When-”

“You offered me cigarettes in exchange for coffee,” you finished the sentence for him.

“Yes,” he said with a wistful smile, as if reminiscing about a day he’d cherished but had long since passed. “You felt it, didn’t you? Compelled to stay, but with no reason why.”

Despite your reluctance, you had to agree with him. That moment between standing by his table and sitting with him to share in a smoke had been like entering the twilight zone. You were you, but yet, at the same time, weren’t.

“I can do it again here, if you want,” he murmured, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to bore right into you.

It wasn’t the first time you had leaped before looking. You’d always been known to be a little more reckless than your peers, but it seemed like you never really learnt your lesson well. “Be my guest,” you gestured melodramatically, as your hand swept across in one grand motion.

“Now, you’re just mocking me,” he chided, though a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips.

This time, there was a tingling sensation in your body, like an invisible warm light gradually enveloping you, except it seemed to exude from him. You were entranced by his stature, the minute details of his face, everything about what he was, to the point where you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.

“Sit,” he directed gently, placing his hand along the back of the wooden bench.

You felt nothing but desire. Desire to do anything he wanted you to. Without a word, you sank onto the bench like a doll, still giving him that doe-eyed expression one would normally reserve for a celebrity they were starstruck by.

Taking his seat beside you, he urged, “Come closer.”

Obediently, you shuffled up along the bench towards him, except it wasn’t out of fear of punishment, but a strange, radiant love that emanated from within you. When you were just inches away from his face, he slowly revealed the tips of his canine teeth, which were pointier than usual, and seemed to grow with each passing minute. As his features eased up, you could feel the uncanny warmth dissipate from your core, and though you were still captivated by him, his face seemed to lack the same lustrous sheen it held moments ago. Like a wandering spirit, you had arrived back into your own body. You were you again.

His eyes latched onto you, waiting, watching, biding his time, to see what you would do. Though he remained poised and composed, the unsteadiness of his breathing and the flicker of trepidation across his irises gave him away. He was afraid that you would leave him, for good. And after what he had given to have the right to Embrace you, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself if he were rejected.

It felt like hours had gone by until one of you spoke up. “Do you hate what you see?”

“No,” you answered, almost too quickly, cupping his cold cheek in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully into it, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It felt moist and heated against your skin.

You surprised yourself with how well you were taking all of this in. This shouldn’t have been possible and nothing about what he had shown you made sense. You blamed your tolerance on the late, sleepless nights and hanging around with the offbeat characters who frequented your cafe.

What if monsters did exist? you humored. Maybe not in the literal sense of vampires, but someone who relished the flavor of blood, and who’d learnt a few tricks of hypnotism. You tried to rationalize it as much as you could, but there were still so many missing pieces you did not fully understand.

“How many times?” you asked. “Did you force me… each night?”

He lowered his gaze, marred by shame, while looking to his hands nestled in his lap. “It was just that once,” he whispered. “I wanted you to stay with me.”

He pursed his lips. “The rest, later on… was you.”

“Did you-”

“Yes.”

You didn’t even need to continue your sentence for him to know what you meant. Yes, he tasted your blood. Yes, he enjoyed it. Yes, he came back for more. And more.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.

You didn’t acknowledge his apology, allowing even more time to slip through your fingers. A while later, you ran them along his cheek towards his lips, where his teeth which now looked more like fangs lurked. Right, how would you explain that away?

He didn’t stop you when you traced one of their edges, as if trying to figure out if they were real. He let you press the tip of your finger against its peak, purposely pricking yourself in some kind of deluded masochistic fantasy. The rush you felt from it was indescribable, like a spike of venom flowing into your veins, though it wasn’t as intense as the previous times to truly immobilize you. Grasping onto the back of the bench, you steadied yourself from the dizzying sensation.

A dark, ruby bead blossomed at the site of the puncture. His mouth lay open as he inhaled sharply, gripping the trousers on his thighs, and there was a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. However, he remained motionless, restraining himself somehow, as if awaiting your instruction.

“You like this?” A mixture of bewilderment and arousal seeped into your tone, as you brought your bleeding finger to rest just at the entrance of his mouth.

All at once, his veneer of calmness shattered. He swirled his tongue against your fingertip, causing you to gasp as it made hot laps around the miniscule droplet of blood you had to offer him. Dipping his head, he took the rest of your digit into his mouth, eventually sucking on it whole as he emitted a low groan in pleasure. When he finally let it go, a slick string of saliva connected to it from his lips, wet and hungry with need.

“I, um-” you shuddered, at a loss for words, as you retracted your finger, folding it into your hand.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened up in his seat, adjusting his attire and hair, as if he had come back to his senses once again. “You don’t have to decide on this right now,” he assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded shakily, your mind spinning from all the events that had just transpired. “Could we take another short walk before I head home?”

It would probably help to cool off a little, you thought.

“Anything you need,” he asserted, getting up as he took another glance around the park, before extending his hand to you.

You stared at it, contemplating further. “Just don’t-” you hesitated, pausing to rephrase your words. “I want to trust you, Leon.”

“I’ll earn it back,” he promised. “However long it takes.”

That was all you needed to hear from him. Perhaps you were naive to a fault, but you took his hand anyway, allowing him to lead you out of the park, and to whatever else fate had in store for you that night.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the course of the evening, a thin fog had developed, shrouding the sky and enveloping the moon and stars in a blurry veil, casting a muted light over the city. You and Leon had taken a short detour towards the more touristy part of town, where the landmark Saint Michael Clock Tower overlooked the grand waterway.

The ornate, Gothic structure loomed intimidatingly ahead, its roof cloaked in a wispy gray mist, though you could still make out the time on its huge clock face. Ten minutes past midnight. It was getting late, and although you were accustomed to working until the wee hours of the morning, you preferred to get some sleep on your nights off when possible. However, right now, a part of you wished that the night would last longer.

There wasn’t such a wide distance between you and Leon as before. In fact, your fingers were nearly touching, but neither of you had taken it further to close the final gap. Even in complete silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the city’s buzzing nightlife, both of you had somehow agreed on which pathways to take, falling in sync with each other’s footsteps, pauses and turns, like an unspoken dance. It was nice like this, having no expectations of the other person, just walking and feeling the thread of connection that bound the two of you.

Every now and then, he peered at you inquisitively, and you wondered if he had something to say, but when you looked his way, he turned his gaze back to the street in front of him. Coming to the entrance of a tunnel arbor near the clocktower, you paused to admire the sight of the vines and flowers that were wound around the metallic arches, interspersed with marigold fairy lights. There were still a decent number of stragglers in the vicinity. Probably the remaining tourists for the day who didn’t quite want to wrap up yet, some of whom were posing for pictures near the picaresque arbors.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Always the instigator and taking the confrontational approach. That was what you were known for.

“Hm?” he deflected, yet smiled at you knowingly.

“Just looked like you had something to say.” You shrugged, placing your hands on your hips.

“Nothing escapes you, huh?”

He was teasing you again; you were certain of it. Though this appeared to be twofold, where the second part was meant as a misdirection to hide a secret from you.

“It should be obvious that I like you,” he stated plainly.

Obvious to the point where he couldn’t afford to have one of those obnoxious Anarchs stake their claim over you, just for a bit of territory. You were worth so much more to him than that. Surely, it would be the lesser of two evils for him to be the one to Embrace you? It was all he could think about when he made that deal with Ada. Always justifying and compromising. That was what he was known for.

You couldn't fathom the sheer astonishment and joy that overcame him when Ada returned with the news a few weeks later:

“The Prince granted your wish,” she mentioned with an indifferent wave of her hand.

“How?” he choked in disbelief. “It usually takes years!”

“You underestimate me,” she scoffed. “Have you forgotten that I’m the voice of society?”

“No, of course not.” He hung his head in disgrace, as if he had just been told off by a parent.

“Anyway, I don’t have to tell you twice that you should thank him in person.”

Lifting a bejeweled chalice to her lips, she tasted its contents, allowing it to linger on the palate before letting it wash down her throat. “And by ‘thank’, I mean ‘grovel’.”

“Yes, sire.” He bent down on his knee and kissed the back of her hand in respect.

A shadow of annoyance flickered across her face, morphing into a frown. “You do know this makes you look weak?” she questioned rhetorically. “Being unable to convince the Prince yourself?”

He knew better than to respond when Ada was in such a mood.

“Don’t embarrass me.”

Her warning rang loud and clear in his ears.

“Who is it obvious to?” you challenged, pulling him out of his reverie. Maybe you had an undeniable urge to see him lose control over you again.

At this, he drew closer towards you, his eyes ablaze like a blue flame, as he snaked his arms around your waist. That was it - the thrill, the feeling you missed. It rippled through your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But before he could go any further, a sudden force tore him from his hold on you, hauling him violently backwards. He was flung in the air across a couple of yards, landing against the wall of a building with a sickening crack.

In the background, you heard screams coming from all directions, alongside whooshing sounds, followed by loud thuds. One soon popped up behind you and in an instant you found yourself smacked to the ground. There was a shrill ringing in your ears, your eyes watered, and your vision blurred as you started seeing double in front of you. You felt the back of your head. Wet. Sticky. Flowing. Your fingers were red and the concussion you suffered induced a dizzying spell.

A grizzly face appeared before you, but you couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features, except for the familiar shape of long fangs that glistened under the arbor lights. There was no time to put up a fight or even cry out for help, as you began to sink deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Leon had watched the entire scene unfurl before him like a twisted snuff film coming to life. The attack had taken him by surprise, but he quickly got up from his fall, resetting his bones and shaking it off like nothing had happened. The whole place was awash in scarlet. Blood streaked the city streets, trickling into every gap and crack, as the victims were messily drained of their lifesource. Whoever was behind this wanted the world to know. And that was when he witnessed the first of them turn.

A Mass Embrace? These Kindred definitely reeked of the Sabbat, and if not, they weren’t anyone who had been presented before the Prince; he would know. There wasn’t a second left to spare - he had to find you immediately. In his line of sight, he saw one of the culprits feeding on you greedily, and the primal rage he felt within him almost caused his Beast to take over. He hunched over and growled ferociously. His features transformed into something monstrous and his eyes were crazed as globs of saliva dribbled down his mouth.

It was fanning the flames of a Frenzy, one where he would slaughter every being in his path regardless of who they were, tearing them from limb to limb, and eviscerating their carcasses for what they had done to you. But his concern for your well-being won him over. Mustering up his willpower, he resisted the Beast as much as he could, and though he was still enraged, he needed to think straight and prioritize getting you to safety. That was all that mattered.

In the bat of an eye, he zipped across, yanking the other vampire away from your limp body, as they traded rapid blows. Another aggressor joined in the fight, as Leon dodged their swift counterattacks with deceptive ease, before connecting his right fist to one of their jaws and dealing a precise uppercut with his left to the other’s ribs, catching both of them off-guard.

Everything seemed to pass by in quicktime as he moved with an unnatural grace, spinning mid-air over one of their backs, only to grab the other from behind and slam him to the ground savagely. Gathering the rest of his strength, he took advantage of the momentum to stomp on the vampire’s head with the heel of his shoe. There was a nauseating crunch as his skull caved in from the blunt force trauma, splintering and sending blood splashing across the pavement, driving him straight into torpor. One down, one more to go.

The brutality of the violence he had displayed unnerved him, yet fuelled his excitement as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He attributed it to being partially influenced by the Beast the moment those bastards had put your life in danger. At least he had not fully succumbed to it. That was what he tried to tell himself while putting a lid on his unquenchable thirst for more. More violence. More bloodshed. They deserve it…

A cacophony of ghastly howls erupted from a distance, bringing him back to reality. Jill, it had to be, Leon realized. The Sheriff was coming to subdue this severe breach of the Masquerade. As the other vampire lunged at him, Leon’s reflexes took over, timing it such that he skirted the edge of the assault unscathed. Instead, he circled around, placing the attacker in an unyielding headlock. The vampire struggled vigorously, attempting to kick and claw his way out of Leon’s grip.

It was then that he heard Jill’s gruff yells in the vicinity, as the pack of dogs under her control barked and gnashed their teeth viciously at the remaining offenders, clamping down on their legs to prevent them from escaping. The Hound, a group of Kindred who reported to her, had arrived in tow, twirling wooden shafts in their hands, each sharpened at one end. Grinning menacingly, they struck at the assailants, staking them immobile before dragging them away.

“You need this one?” Leon called out. He might as well play by their rules where he got the chance, even if the Prince himself had decreed a perpetual Blood Hunt on the Sabbat. Anything to be in the former’s good graces. It was all for show, anyway.

Jill turned sharply, her mouth contorting into a wicked smirk, as she stalked towards him. “Leon… always at the right place, right time, huh?” Her voice was more akin to brutish snarl, but he knew when she meant her threats and when she didn’t. At this point, she was on his side.

“We have our hands full of the rebellious trash.” She jerked her thumb back to her crew, who were skulking around in the dark with their catch. “Kill this motherfucker.”

Without hesitation, Leon snapped the vampire’s neck clean, ripping his head off in the process as his lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Letting out a huff from the effort, he tossed the head aside, feeling nothing for the wretched being that lay at his feet. Or did he? He chose not to dwell on it any further, finding something else to distract himself with as he glanced down at his clothes, frowning when he noticed they were smeared with all sorts of fluids and innards. Dry cleaning was gonna be a bitch.

Jill signaled towards your body with her chin. “This one’s barely alive.”

“She’s mine.” A deep-seated possessiveness surged through him as he stepped between you and Jill, unwilling to let you be snatched away from his grasp again. Swooping down, he lifted you into his arms, ready to cart you off from this gruesome site. “Please, I don’t have much time.”

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head and a low rumble reverberated from her chest. “Alright, pretty boy. You’re answerable to the Prince though,” she warned.

“Understood,” he replied snippily, cringing at the nickname she often used to wind him up.

Directing her attention once again to her Hound, she commanded, “Torch the rest!”

The poor, newly created vampires never stood a chance, dealing with both the life-changing alterations to their bodies and the molotov cocktails now lobbed at them. They had no idea what was happening as they were set aflame in the towering bonfire, screeching and wailing until they were reduced to nothing but ashes. The smell of singed skin and flesh hung in the air.

Tightening his grip on you, Leon recoiled involuntarily in fear as he fled from the raging inferno. “Hang in there for me,” he whispered, praying to a long-forgotten god that he wouldn’t be too late this time.

Racing like his life depended on it, he kept to the shadows, using the cover of darkness to navigate through the maze of Raccoon City towards his haven.

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