#but its easier once you already have established most of what it is

[pearlywritings]

In father's embrace

synopsis: Genshin men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Ayato, Thoma, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 7.2k words

a/n: I really wanted to write Diluc and Kaeya, but realized that I can't create something new since I already have a family AU with them. Here's the materlist's link if you are interested! Also you can find the HSR version of this here!

Ayato 

This man is a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. Both babies took more in their mom’s appearance, but have his soft violet eyes and honestly? This man adores you, his wife, so when he sees your kids develop more and more of your features as they grow - his heart can’t be fuller.

He is a fun and patient dad - he will teach them anything they ask him to, and offer guidance, yet still leaving space for them to learn some on their own. He also enjoys when they sneak into his study during his working hours (because mom decided to take a nap, and Thoma went out grocery shopping, and they are so-so boooooored), letting them wander around the room for the nth time, touching all the trophies and scrolls he has there (all the things that could be of danger were long removed), and when they eventually feel sleepy, crawl closer to him to nap, resting their heads on his thighs while he stays in his kneeling position, writing.

Even if they look a lot like you, it’s so easy to tell that they are his kids - the mischief babbling in their little bodies is untamable for the longest time, and Ayato loves it. Sure, sometimes it is a headache, and mostly for you, but at least they didn’t develop strange tastes in food like their father. More than once they used their similar looks to play pranks on the staff members or their parents, dressing in each other’s clothes and going about their day like that. What does their father think of it? Two words - “promising” and “entertaining”.

They are also their aunt’s absolute delight. Ayaka adores them, showering the two with gifts and attention. And even though she and Ayato are not twins like her niece and nephew - she still feels warmly nostalgic whenever she witnesses their interactions.

Best aunt - thanks to her Vision the twins experienced the joy of ice skating, lessons of etiquette became more fun (though still effective), more days off were granted to her brother to spend time with his family (she practically started stealing his paperwork at some point to fulfill it on her own). She and Thoma are making your life so much easier and for the first time Ayato truly feels at peace and like he is living his life at its fullest. The quiet rooms of the Kamisato Estate are finally filled with joyous laughter and summer warm happiness - his kids are bringing back the light to the gloomily strict atmosphere of the family house.

But sometimes the two only add the workload to his plate in the most wild ways possible.

Ayato closely observes one of his kids - presumably the son - as both the parent and the child are sitting in the room dedicated to the twins’ studying. They have the best tutors Inazuma could provide and both showed exceptional results in all their classes. Even if one of them failed an examination on the first try - the second one was always a success. That was until you walked in on your daughter rewriting her history test, only to discover your son in her place, with his sister’s clothes and blue locks tied in her manner. And that’s when the truth came to light.

Honestly it was no surprise their teachers never suspected anything - only four people could tell the twins apart easily - you, Ayato, Ayaka and Thoma, though the latter had trouble with that occasionally, and your children made sure to speak as similar as possible once the idea of replacing each other appeared. Of which you also learned that day Ayato and you sat them down and urged to tell you everything. The scolding about cheating from you and a lecture from Ayato on the topic of how important it is to do as good as you can on your own were provided, but in the end you just hugged them and said that you do not expect them to be perfect in everything, which left the kids relieved.

But from then on Ayato has been in charge of supervising the twins during their exam retakes. Just like today.

“Public diplomacy, national security, diplomatic etiquette, hm…” the head of the Kamisato clan skips across the paper with questions the tutor gave him beforehand on the latest topic of international relationships. He notices how his child doesn’t fidget and doesn’t even let the eyes run across the room - the straight posture and neutral expression etched on a thirteen-year old’s face is admirable. But he does note the uncharacteristic stiffness. Along with another major thing.

“Princess, where is your brother?”

Eyes widen slightly, but that’s enough to prove that he is correct. He watches his daughter hesitate for a moment, though there is no doubt in his mind that neither of his children would ever lie to him or their mother. And the defeated sigh shows as much.

“Sorry, father,” the girl lowers her gaze in apology. Fishing a hairpin from behind her brother’s kimono lapel, she makes quick work of collecting her hair. Then she looks into his eyes again.

“He is in my room, pretending to be me and probably stressing. Before you ask why we decided to switch - he begged me to.” “Oh?” Ayato puts the papers to the side and rests his chin on an open palm. “Could you please elaborate?” “Remember how we went to the Kujo residence for a playdate?” Her father hums, already getting a vague understanding of what’s going on. “And when we accidentally overheard how the oldest son was being scolded by his father for not doing enough in his studies. And brother got it into his head that if he keeps failing not once but more times, you are going to be disappointed in him. I know he studied for this retake, I helped him with that, but at the last moment he got anxious, and, well, here I am. Like all those years ago.”

“I see,” the man in front of her nods, and she doesn’t see any negative emotion painted on his face. Quite the contrary, he smiles.

“Be a dear, go get your brother and come back together. Change the clothes though. Oh, and tell him I am not mad, okay?” “Okay, father,” she mirrors his smile and relief flashes in her eyes - the girl truly cares for her twin, and that warms Ayato’s heart.

When half an hour later both arrive there is already a table served with tea and sweets, and the head of the Kamisato family immediately invites them to take their seats. His daughter looks calm, which can’t be said about his son - the boy has the most miserable look on his face, holding onto his sister’s hand and staring at the surface of the tea in his cup. Ayato decides to speak first.

“Kujo family is the last people one should take as an example,” his firm, yet reassuring tone makes his son glance at him. “Sure, they are respected, but their methods are too old-fashioned, and the way they treat their children is no good. Do you understand, little blossoms?”

They nod and even if Ayato doesn’t see it, he knows they squeeze each other’s hand.

“You better do, because neither me nor your mother will ever push you to the point of devastation. In studies as well,” the boy bites his lip. “I am serious. I will not be disappointed in either of you if you have to retake one test again and again. Striking for perfection is a good goal, but not when you torture yourself physically and emotionally to achieve it.”

“But father…” his son lifts his eyes and stares right into Ayato’s and it shoots right through his chest how vulnerable the kid looks. “You are perfect. And I don’t want to let you down…” “Me? Perfect? Oh, dear,” the man can’t hold a light laugh back. “Ask your mother and she’ll prove you so wrong, trust me. And none of you is letting me down - you should be proud of yourselves. At such young age you both show bright talents and knowledge - and it’s okay if it’s not the case for every possible field of studies. This is general education, later you’ll get more practice to catch up, or concentrate on your strongest abilities. Listen,” he addresses his son specifically, and the boy cocks his head to the side a little, “be more confident and trust your sister if she insists you are doing well. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and come to me if you feel unsure, alright?”

The boy glances down, letting the words sink in, and Ayato patiently waits. In his mind he admits that it's his oversight - he should've noticed earlier that one of his kids has been struggling. Now he will make sure to change that.

Eventually his son deeply sighs and looks at the adult in front of him with trust reflecting in those pretty eyes.

“Alright,” he nods with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Slowly standing up and letting go of his twin’s hand, he rounds the table and steps right into Ayato’s outstretched arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck.

“Thank you, father,” he whispers right before burying his face into haori-clad shoulder. “I love you so much.”

And the man smiles, whispering those words back and soothingly patting his back, as the daughter shows him thumbs up with the tenderest look in her eyes.

Thoma

This man is such a sweet dad - nearly cried, when your first child, a girl, was delivered. Same was when a couple years later the son was born too.

Juggling his work and caring for his kids was never an issue for him. A big part of it was played by the Kamisato couple, who allowed him to bring first his daughter and then his son to work, when each of them was old enough. Which, most likely, was what prompted the Kamisatos to have their own kids - one day years ago you and Thoma wanted to have a date night - one you haven't had in a while - and Ayato's wife offered to watch your little baby girl. Does it need to be mentioned she wanted her own kids after that?

Thoma's kids are taught to be polite and respectful, but not overly reserved and quiet, no - in your own house the man would literally let them destroy the kitchen in attempts to bake something as an experiment and then turn cleaning it up into a fun game of three, or four, if you decide to join.

He is that kind of dad, who constantly falls asleep with both kids nestled on his chest and his arms wrapped around them, with a book of tales either lying on his stomach or abandoned on the floor. You literally mastered your technique of waking him up without stirring the kids, so you could bring the two to their rooms.

Your kids love walks, whether it’s in the city or admiring the scenery near the Kamisato Estate. When it’s in the city though, the four of you attract attention without a fail. Especially elders, who coo at the image of Thoma holding his daughter’s hand and you cradling your little boy to your chest. You are literally showered in little gifts and are offered many discounts, because everyone adores and respects your family. At some point for a short period of time a rumor was running around Inazuma City, that if you get to see all four members of the Kamisato retainer’s family, luck is going to follow you through the day. Thoma had to ensure it came to an end, wanting to keep you three safe and not being followed around in your leisure time.

To summarize it’s needless to say that this man is a natural when it comes to being a father. He already aced being a great husband, you never had any doubt that the same would be true about becoming a dad. And it brings you so much joy that your kids are aware of it.

Making your husband's lunch is an essential part of your morning routine. Sure, the Kamisato Estate provides its workers with meals and breaks, but knowing how much Thoma loves your home-cooked meals, you'll never refuse him this pleasure. 

On days like today you pack two more lunches, for your kids - yesterday they expressed their desire to go and help their dad. But you are more than aware of the plan they've had in their mind for the longest time. That's why you turn a blind eye and chop fruits particularly loudly, when you ten- and four-year olds sneak into the kitchen and hide something in the wrapper of an already packed lunch.

And when they were leaving and every member of your family gave you kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the decreased stack of small papers you have in the hall to make notes.

Maybe next time, you’ll ask your kids to join.

Thoma bringing his kids to work is always a pleasant surprise to the Estate’s staff. Even the guards by the gates can’t keep their composure, when the girl cheerfully greets them, wishing a good day, and the boy softly chirps a little “hi” and shyly waves his hand at them. Next person they always meet is Furuta - and the old lady adores their greeting ritual and is the one who looks after the fellow housekeeper’s kids when they help or play outside. But if usually the woman just makes small compliments to the children and chides Thoma for not bringing them over more, today his daughter breaks the routine - she suddenly lets go of his hand and quickly runs to her father’s colleague and asks her to speak in the corner. A bit stunned, the blonde watches the two move farther and start quietly talking. The boy in his arms curiously watches them and then, as if realizing something claps his hands.

“What is it, cookie?” But the only answer he receives is merry giggling.

The next strange thing happens, when the three of them arrive in his room - kids, looking as suspicious as possible, start making excuses to go and play first, though they usually insist on following him around unless they get bored, and as they disappear behind the door with his daughter’s bag - Master Ayato requests his visit. 

Getting out of his office only an hour later, Thoma has to rush to his duties, realizing that he’ll have to speed up if he wants to finish everything the blue-haired man has just told him to do. He even handed him a list with tasks, which never happened. What’s going on?

Not finding the children in his room, he decides to start without them, assuming they'll join him later. Okay, what’s the first thing on the list… Check all the chairs. Alright…

Luckily this piece of furniture isn’t numerous in the residence, giving the culture of Inazuma, and Thoma knows perfectly every single room where he can find them. What he wasn’t expecting to find is the folded papers on the seats of some of those. Upon unfolding each revealed a single letter. Strange… Well, at least the chairs themselves are in the required condition.

Tucking the papers in his pocket and fishing the list out of the other one, the man checks his next destination. Check all the bushes around the main building. Blinking, he looks again. No, the handwriting is definitely his master’s, but the contents? In his style, but why so sudden?

Following every single point, Thoma manages to find in total 13 papers with letters on it, before the list stops being weird and advises the housekeeper to dedicate the time before lunch to his common responsibilities. Which he, with an exhale of relief, proceeds to fulfill.

When the time for lunch rolls around, kids, as if magically, reappear at his side and innocently smile at him, asking how he spent his time. He promises to tell them over lunch.

Lunch, that brings him four more pieces of paper. And suddenly, both kids are not that interested in food.

“Make a phrase, make a phrase!” His daughter chants, holding her brother in her lap, and the little boy claps his hands, chanting ‘make! make!’. Already realizing that all of this was their meticulously crafted plan (to participate in which they managed to convince quite a few people), Thoma doesn’t oppose, putting all the papers on the table in front of him. 

S V E E T S I R H E Y B T

And A P A P which he got from his lunch.

“The” is guessed immediately. “Is” as well. When he reaches for the “A P A P” to add it to the pile, the girl suddenly lunges forward, putting her hand on top of it and shaking her head. Alright, not yet.

S V E E T R Y B is left. Okay, maybe “very” and… “best”!

Moving the pieces around in utter concentration, the man puts the words in the right order. And only then the ten-year old lifts her hand. With a baited breath he moves the four remaining pieces a little more and his heart skips a beat, and the summer-green eyes widen.

PAPA IS THE VERY BEST

“Surprise!” The girl beams with the widest smile, hugging her brother. “We wrote it together! See how some of the letters are clumsy? He did it!” She proudly looks at the boy, gently ruffling his hair. “Recently he was trying to learn how to write! You are the first one who sees it, even mom didn’t! And we chose this phrase, because- dad, are you crying?”

Warm silent tears are indeed running down his cheeks and the man nods, not trusting his voice. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes him, making it a little hard to formulate his thoughts, but he reacts immediately when his kids rush to him, opening his arms and catching them in a tight embrace. He'll tell them how touched he is, he'll praise them, he'll declare his love for them again and again. A tiny bit later. Now he just needs to hold them and hear that he, for real, "is the very best papa".

Alhaitham and Kaveh

Listen, just LISTEN - imagine these men’s pure shock when their wives surprise them over a double date at Kaveh’s house with their pregnancies. Like, AT THE SAME TIME. Kaveh is gaping at his woman, but Alhaitham is no better - a glass with wine frozen in air in the middle of his attempt to put it back on the table as his eyes are not blinking, glued to his spouse. The blonde would be the first one to break from his stupor and tightly hug his wife, kissing all over her face all laughter and little jumping in place, while his junior would finally put the glass down and beckon his woman onto his lap and bury his face in her neck with arms around her body, quietly thanking her for amazing news.

The kids are not even formed in the women’s stomachs, but they already have a story to share.

Alhaitham

Despite not giving the impression the man likes the idea of being a father to a child together with you, his beloved. Of course the pregnancy was planned, but even he couldn’t predict the possibility of you and his friend’s wife being pregnant at the same time. Though he does find it a little amusing and can’t lie to himself that watching you and your female friend discuss the nursery designs, the clothes, the gender, the two babies becoming akin to siblings warms his heart.

He always loved quiet evenings with you, but later, as your bump got more and more prominent, he finds himself craving your back pressed to his chest and his palms cradling your rounding stomach. He talks to his kid in there, reads them books and soothes, when they are restless and don’t let you sleep that well. And that’s how early on you understood who’s going to be the one putting your newborn to sleep, because your persuasions didn’t work that well.

And your husband doesn’t mind. He actually loves cradling his daughter - yes, it’s a little girl! - to his chest and lull her to sleep - it gives him an unimaginable sense of fulfillment.

As your little wonder grows older, Kaveh can’t help but comment how similar her scowl is to her father’s - combined with the annoyed sharp glare of the eyes she also got from him. But that’s only when she is being capricious. Most of the time she is calm and sporting your sweet smile, voice soft and eyes lacking the mentioned above sharpness. 

By the way, she is older than Kaveh’s kid, which makes the Scribe just a little bit smug.

Alhaitham is all too happy to be the one educating her. He makes sure to balance her time spending with him and her time spending with you, encouraging her to engage in your hobbies and have a mother-daughter time. But the most he loves the time the three of you spend together - be it as simple as grocery shopping, having a meal together or cuddling in the evening, or going on whole little expeditions, because his girl wants to explore something on the topic she is currently interested in.

Oh, and he is so biased when it comes to her. There is only one non-scholar kid in all of Sumeru who has her own personal access to the House of Daena, research laboratories, research data and the Scribe’s office at any working hour - and that’s your daughter.

“Look, that’s the Scribe’s wife!”

Taken aback, you stop in your way when at least a dozen students surround you. Raising an eyebrow you survey their faces thoughtfully, noting that they seem to be quite desperate. But even before you can open your mouth they interrupt.

“Tell him to let us in! We have applications to submit!”

“And I have questions why mine was declined!”

“I need his signature on my thesis papers!”

“He locked himself inside with your daughter and said not to disturb their nap! Unbelievable-”

“And how exactly can I help?” You cut through the cacophony of their voices. Students look at you as if you’ve just grown a second head.

“...you are his wife? You can influence him.” “First of all, demanding something from a person you barely know is simply rude,” you narrow your eyes and a chill runs down some of the spines - for a moment you looked just like your husband. “Secondly, I am not involved in his work and I don’t plan to. Now, please, step aside.”

“You can’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, and you can? Let me guess, at least half of you missed deadlines, a small portion made mistakes again and the rest are not in an urgent need to see my husband, but decided to stick with others in hopes that getting to him right now will work?”

Leaving them stunned by your easy guess, you finally push your way through, holding a box with food you brought for lunch close to your chest. Once in front of the door you don’t even have the time to raise a fist for knocking, because the door unlocks and opens, revealing the tall man behind it.

Silently and quickly you step inside and the door shuts again, the key turns in the lock and then is thrown on the nearest table. The office meets you with welcomed tranquility, and dimmed lights are a nice contrast to the blindingly white walls of the Akademiya.

“So, you heard everything? They said you were napping,” you question his guess of when to open the door to let you in. Alhaitham rolls his eyes, glaring at the hindrance you left behind the door, and then takes the box from you.

“I was, but since I lent my earpieces I could hear the commotion in the corridor,” with his free hand he takes yours and leads you further into the room. There, on the sofa, you spot your daughter - wearing her dad’s device and napping, curled under his cape.

“Oh Dendro Archon, she is so adorable,” you coo in awe. “Look how big your things are on her!”

“She demanded I take a break and sit with her,” the Scribe hums, putting the food on the table and then locking both of his arms around you in an embrace. “But the more she was reading to me while sitting at my side, the sleepier she was getting, so we decided to nap.”

You listen to him, while observing your precious girl. She seems serene and content, holding onto the gold-embroidered piece of fabric, surely containing her father’s soothing scent. The earpieces are adjusted to hold onto her head and in silence you can even catch the faintest sounds of a melody. Ah, if only you had a Kamera with you…

“Let’s get her her own earpieces and cape.”

“The cape is unnecessary, but I did consider the device. I could make her her own, especially since she’s been complaining about having hard times to concentrate while she is at the Akademiya.” “But with the cape she’d be just like you!”

“Am I alone not enough for you already?” Light turquoise eyes are hard to read, but you manage to catch a shadow of amusement.

“But matching outfits are charming! Like, remember the last time we’ve been to Kaveh’s? The whole family had matching robes!”

“Then you’ll have to dress like me too.”

“If I am to get an intricate cape and a device to block the sounds of you huffing - I don’t mind.”

Alhaitham huffs. Then stops, realizing he’s just done what you were accusing him of, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Kidding, kidding. Let’s discuss it over lunch. Can you wake her while I am setting the table?”

Your husband nods and, receiving a quick peck to his cheek, releases you from his hold, stepping closer to the sofa.

As you busy yourself with the food, you occasionally glance at the two from the corner of your eye, absolutely swooning over how gently Alhaitham takes the earpieces off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, softly murmurs her name and coaxes her from sleep with the news that mommy came and brought delicious food with her. And when two sets of identical eyes look at you tenderly, a loving smile lights up your face.

Kaveh

Can you see this man sticking his finger in Alhaitham's direction and declaring that his kid is going to be senior to his friend's? Because I can. (Too bad he was wrong).

As well as I can see this man accidentally becoming supportive not only of you but the other man's family as well - and drawing the blueprints for both nurseries is probably only the beginning (but you were the only one whose every suggestion he took without arguing).

From day one his mind is set on being the best dad for your baby, just like he is the best husband to you. He reads books, seeks advice in Bimarstan, even writes letters to his mother in hopes she'll share her experience, that could help you. Though when it comes to shopping for your yet unborn baby, you have to physically restrain him from buying every single cute plushie or onesie he sees. 

When your daughter is born though, it's getting harder, because your own desire to spoil this golden-haired angel is unmeasurable. Maybe it's because she looks so much like your husband and you are projecting your need to shower him in love and affection and give everything you possibly can, but by the end of the day you just simply love her very much.

Kaveh adores doing anything creative with his daughter. She wants a mosaic in a frame on her wall? They'll put it from the little tiles together and Kaveh would hold her in his arms so she could hang it. She wants a dollhouse? They'll spend the time drawing the draft and picking colors and materials for EVERYTHING. And then he'll be building it, while she crafts little furniture. And it doesn't matter if she did it too small or too big - papa will help her adjust it.

But even so, Kaveh doesn't expect his daughter to be some genius or follow in his steps. No, he knows he'll love her even if she stops sharing the creative approach with him. He knows better than anyone how crushing it is to have everyone's expectations to loom over you and predatory gazes watch tirelessly, anticipating the moment you fail. He gives a vow to himself, to you, to your girl, that he will be there no matter what. 

Matching. Outfits. You own so many it's almost worrisome. But your daughter loves them. There were a couple occasions when she drew her own designs for the three of you and you had it tailored, which left her absolutely ecstatic.

On that note, you believe Kaveh's (tiny) fear that she'll lose interest in creativity is going to be short-lived - especially after your visit to Fontaine to let your daughter meet her granny, which the girl spent with wide open eyes and mouth, absorbing everything around her to use it later.

Also having your daughter earned you a heavy supporter in moments when Kaveh starts to overwork. He can't resist the charm of both of his girls and is easily swayed to the nearest sofa/bed to cuddle and share lots of kisses. All his life he has been the anchor for others - now he has two people to be that for him.

Kaveh is easily spooked by sudden noises, and your eleven-year old daughter knows that. That's why she makes sure to tap her feet loud enough to hear their approach through the door of his study. Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and your special dessert in one hand, she lifts the other to gently knock on the door.

"Come in, baby!" Reaching higher she pulls the handle.

The floor littered with crumpled papers isn't a new sight to her, just as her father's hunched back over the properly lit table. But when the door closes, the architect immediately puts the pencil down and turns around, giving her a big smile.

"Hi, sweety," he is beaming, seeing her adorable face and a growing smile, complementing those precious twinkles in her eyes.

"Hi, papa!" She chirps like a little birdie - her actual nickname - and Kaveh nearly drops his head in his palms and cries. How can he be a father to someone so tender?

"Mama said you are working and made you something! I helped," she lifts the tray, showing him what she has. "We hope you will like it."

Oh, he definitely will, he doesn't doubt it. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges, the man takes his late afternoon snack and brings it closer to his face, inhaling the sweet smell of the desert and a soothing aroma of the tea.

"Thank you, little birdie," he puts the tray aside and bends lower to wrap his arms around her and smooch her cheek. "You and mama are the best."

"Hehe, we know," she giggles. "You are the best too."

"Awww," Kaveh can't help but nuzzle against her cheek, gaining another giggle and a cute scrunch of her nose.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Sorry, sorry, baby, you are just so adorable. Just like your mama."

"But mama says I am pretty like you."

"Both can work together," he assures her, but a soft blush covers his cheeks. No matter how many years have passed, he still gets shy whenever his wife uses "pretty" to describe him.

"Okay!" She simply agrees, giving him a big hug. "Sorry, but I should be going now. Mama wants to go grocery shopping and I want to help her."

Now that she says this, Kaveh pays closer attention to her outfit - the white sundress with pink roses is definitely not something she'll wear at home.

"Alright then, let me escort you downstairs."

Standing up, he easily hoists her in his arms and lets her perch on his left one, as her arms wrap around his neck.

When they reach the hall, the girl has managed to make two braids in his hair, now twisting them around each other. Kaveh finds both her and your obsession with touching his hair amusing, but sometimes it feels nice and relaxing. And you did put him to sleep by scratching his head on multiple occasions.

You, who are standing in front of the mirror, and even witnessing just your profile, the architect is in love all over again. 

He should take you on a date later this week.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind that," you chuckle, turning to face him and offering your most teasing smile. Ah, he said the date part out loud, didn't he? "But right now I need to go and take care of our dinner's ingredients."

Your husband nods in understanding and puts your daughter down, dusting the skirt of her dress and making sure everything is intact. Getting a quick peck on the nose, he gives her one on the forehead and straightens up to immediately welcome you into his embrace and share a soft kiss.

“Be sure to take a break and enjoy the snack we made for you. And I mean it when I say taking a break. We all remember how you spilled your morning coffee over the blueprint and had to redraw everything again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

A wild shiver runs down Kaveh’s spine and he feverishly shakes his head. No, if there is one thing he is certain in it’s hating the repetition of this.

“You don’t have to remind me,” his heavy sigh ghosts over your skin. “And it won’t happen again.”

“I believe in you!” You cheer joyfully and it warms his heart.

“I believe in papa too!” Your daughter throws her fists in the air. “Papa can do anything!”

“Of course he can,” you gently nudge her back, ushering her to the front door. “See you soon, Kaveh. We love you.”

“I love you too.”

Waving at your leaving figures he waits until you shut the door and stick the key in the lock, before smiling to himself and returning to his study.

The tea got a little cold and the dessert’s top melted just a tiny bit, but both are still incredibly delicious. Leaning back in an armchair with a plate resting on his knee and a cup wrapped in his hands, the man feels happily at ease and two precious girls are the reason why.

Tighnari 

Frankly, I don't think Tighnari has ever given much thought to becoming a dad, let alone settling down with someone. But taking care of Collei, becoming her mentor, stepping so close to becoming a parental figure, probably played its role as well.

Biggest part, of course, was you - another pretty fennec hybrid, who, due to the same biological background, could share a lot of things with him that the man couldn't and honestly didn't want to bother explaining to others, he sure has other things to fulfill.

It took years of courting from both sides, but eventually, you two settled down together, content with each other as a partner. When the talk of kids happened, the forest ranger was hesitant - he knows he can handle a kid, he can handle ten if required thanks to his immense patience and love for teaching, but since you were different from humans, the man was aware that you could be carrying more than three babies at one time. Even if your body is built to handle it by evolution, he still didn't want to make you go through with so much. Initially. However when you looked so hopeful to have a family with your beloved, swore it's going to be just one time and then you'll keep using protection like before, he was convinced and actually quite excited.

So much nuzzling during your pregnancy. So much nuzzling when the babies are born - three beautiful boys and one girl, with the prettiest fluffy tails and ears of yours or his fur. He immediately jumped to being a father, without any complaint taking care of your kids, while you were recovering. He adores them so much, but at times hardly manages to keep an eye on all four - good thing you moved into a bigger house that is closer to the ground, because little explorers did try to escape outside on multiple occasions.

What gets Tighnari's heart burst like fireworks though? Spotting you napping with all of your babies huddled in your embrace, body practically curled around them and a tail resting on top. The first time it happened - maybe a couple of weeks after you gave birth to them - Tighnari left you alone with the kids to do an examination on the work of forest rangers in his absence, and when he returned back - he nearly collapsed from how adorable the five of you looked. Definitely joined.

From their early age he taught his kids everything about the forest so they would be prepared, and, even he won't ever admit it, it stirred something in his chest when they looked up at him with wonder and fascination in their gleaming eyes. They were also taught to be independent, but at the same time to work as a team, and they are so good at that.

The circle of four is absolutely perfect. Little hands are swift and precise, and the absolute concentration is written on the seven-year olds adorable faces. You and Tighnari even stopped your own grooming of each other’s tails to observe your kids’ routine of doing the same thing, but among themselves.

With four pillows on the floor they once again made themselves comfortable, just like every evening, equipped with different kinds of brushes and safe oils. 

You put your chin onto Tighnari's shoulder, still holding his tail in your lap, with yours resting under his palm, and make a soft sound, loud enough for him to recognize and not alert the kids. Your husband nods, purring in response and rubbing his cheek against your temple.

"They are so adorable, 'nari," you sigh, watching the four being so absorbed with their task that they don't even talk. The male couldn't agree more, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile and then picking another brush to get busy with the tip of your tail.

"They absolutely got it from you, my dear. And did you notice how much progress they've made in the fur-caring routine?"

Tighnari doesn't see that, but you, still staring forward at your kids, clearly see how four pairs of ears prick up. How cute, someone wants the praise.

"That they did. And I don't know about you, but at the age of 7 I didn't even know that the fur has to be clean and taken care of anyhow. I guess, I never gave it much thought when my mom did it for me. Our little ones are so independent."

Four tails move a little, kids clearly delighted.

"You are right, they are," Tighnari hums, running his fingers through your now well-groomed fur, and your children hold their chins up proudly. "If only this independence didn't extend to trying to escape to the forest on their own against all of my warnings."

Inhumane eyes glare at the frozen bodies of the "explorers" in question, making them lower their gaze and pick up from where they stopped their routine. Oh, they know what they've done.

You can only sigh, fully understanding your husband's concerns, and finish tending to his tail.

Next is the balm you generously scoop onto your palm to rub into the rough texture of your fox-like pads. When you do the same for Tighnari, receiving a tender kiss to your nose, and then to each of your babies, as they walk to you one by one, still with guilty, pouty, but adorable faces, while your husband is putting away all the tools and products.

Soon your bed is occupied with all of your kids, snuggling to your sitting body and drowsily asking to sleep with you two tonight. Even the thought of making a dozen more steps to their own rooms is killing the last energy in them - the routine has an incredible side effect: they immediately become sleepy when they are done and you don't have much trouble with putting them to bed.

Especially when the bed is right here. The bed that became a large one not even a couple of months along their lives, because this has been a common occurrence.

"Mommy, daddy, can we sleep with you tonight, please?" Your daughter lifts her pleading eyes at you, being the one who managed to directly slide into your lap and into your embrace. Three boys, attached to your sides silently lift their eyes too, pouting in attempts to break your resolve. Which wasn't here in the first place.

"What'd you say, 'nari?" Chuckling, you look at your husband climbing onto the bed to join the five of you.

"Weren't we just discussing their independence? They can surely walk to their rooms. Come on, babies, back to your beds."

"Noooooooooo," their hold on you immediately becomes a death grip. "We want to stay with you!"

"Kids, I can't breathe-" you gasp from the crushing hug of at least two pairs of arms squeezing your middle.

"We want to stay, we want to stay, we want to stay!"

"That's what you should've told yourselves earlier this morning when you decided to get to the river with spinocrocodiles. That you want to stay. Home. Until I or your mother could go on a walk with you outside the village."

At his strict tone and at the reminder of them nearly losing their tails this morning to the sharp jaws of wild animals, four little foxes lower their eyes, ashamed. But they do relax their hold around you.

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples and contemplating when he's going to get his first gray hairs.

"Okay, I'll let you sleep with us tonight, BUT," he slightly raises his voice to emphasize, especially since the four immediately got in high spirits, "if something like this happens again - you are losing this privilege for a week. Are we clear?"

"Yes, daddy…"

"Yeah.."

"Mhm…"

"Sure, dad…"

And that's the only confirmation Tighnari needs before lifting the covers, because no matter how restless and disastrous your children can be - he has almost as hard a time as you do telling them "no".

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #ayato x fem!reader #thoma x reader #thoma x fem!reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x fem!reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x fem!reader #kamisato ayato #thoma #alhaitham #kaveh #tighnari #genshin impact fluff

[eamour]

feeling the wish fulfilled.

if you have read and consumed some of neville goddard's works, you will already be familiar with the word "feeling". when speaking of "feeling it real" or "feeling your desires to be yours", it is not an emotion that we are referring to. "feeling", here, means to know something for a fact.

feeling it real.

when you "feel" something to be real, you don’t try to "get" it, you don’t think that there is still "work" that needs to be done, you don’t "try" or "attempt" to manifest something, you don’t "pray“, "hope", "worry" or "wonder" if it’s going to occur in your reality, you don’t feel "unsure", "trapped", or "confused". the reason why you won’t feel any of these things is because you have managed to feel your desire to be yours. you cannot be convinced of the opposite. you have created an unshakable experience within that cannot be taken from you — a new belief of yours has been established!

perception with senses.

to "feel" usually implies your perception with the senses. you will use all of your senses — but within your mind — and recreate the same experience you would have if you were to experience it physically. to make your desire as vivid, as touchable, as perceivable as possible will help you make it feel real. the moment you free yourself and allow yourself to feel the way you would want to feel, you will lose yourself in it. eventually, you will start to feel relieved, empowered and secure. why? because you have accepted this imaginal act to be reality. your reality.

its transformative power.

you may question the power and effect of this way of "feeling" but it will and has to change you. the moment you bask in the feeling, the acceptance and the liberation that come along, you will begin to shift. your mind will begin to change and therefore your very environment. at the end of the day, your feeling portrays a shift of a state. every state is a feeling that you can move in and out of. it’s a coat you can choose to wear or take off.

to feel means to let go.

in order to feel it real, to feel the wish fulfilled, you will have to let go of something: the world around you. you will have to let go of reminding yourself of the looks of your current reality and leave it as it is. don’t even try to fix it, but let go of your worries, your obstacles in life, the limitations and restrictions in it, and allow yourself to perceive, experience and accept whatever it is that you want to have to be yours. only through the art of removing yourself from the outside and feeling like a part of it, you will begin to understand that the outside is actually just a part of you, a part that you've got in your hands.

the challenging part.

now, the difficulty in this is disregarding your logical mind, your rational and realistic (whatever the hell that means) way of thinking. you will have to accept your imaginative acts, your inner conversations to be reality — not for your outer world to determine your inner world. the more you do this, it does not only get easier, you will also ease your anxiety and let go of your fear... but you must be willing to grant yourself greater feelings.

dare to feel it.

dare to imagine and feel the things you would want to feel. expand your former limits or give them up entirely. get rid of rules and forget about how the outer-world has once appeared. and most importantly, don’t be afraid to do so. don’t be afraid to use your mind’s power. if you find it hard to do so, then you are still attached to your senses who can only give you a limited outlook on a limited reality.

practice the feeling.

start simple. think of a scenario you would like to experience. visualise or just think of it. and now, ask yourself "how would i feel if i was to experience this?". you may feel resistant at first, maybe even ridiculous or delusional, but just permit yourself to feel it for some time. go back to that scenario and go deeper. "how do i look like? who am i with? what is it that i own? what am i doing? what's happening to me?". and then, the most important question: "what if this was my reality now?". i want you to rephrase this question and form a sentence. your "what if" becomes a "this is", the same way your "this would feel" becomes a "this feels". i want you to declare that this — the scenario you have felt — is factual. it’s true. it’s a reflection of your reality, RIGHT NOW. after all, this is what distinguishes creation from daydreaming.

with love and lots of feeling, ella.

#law of assumption #loassumption #loa #the law of assumption #neville goddard #edward art #manifestation #manifesting #manifest #how to manifest #manifest it #manifesting it #manifest your life #manifest your dreams #manifest your reality #manifest your desires #spiritual #spirituality #affirmations #feeling is the secret #everybody is you pushed out #eiypo #consciousness is the only reality #feel the wish fulfilled #shiftblr #loablr #loa tumblr #shifting #reality shifting #shifting realities

[angel-eyes05]

What's In A Name

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

summary: as a master thief, you pride yourself on never getting caught. that is until you're caught by the straw hats as you try stealing from their ship. unable to turn you in to the authorities just yet, they'll have to make due with storing you on the going merry in the meantime. but, your time in confinement has allowed you to get particularly close to a certain swordsman. how close the two of you get is to be decided though.

warnings/info: nsfw mdni, oral sex (fem receiving), alcohol consumption, drunk/tipsy sex, face riding, my own sex headcanons for zoro are VERY clear here lmao ,takes place in between jaya and skypiea (please pretend theres more time at sea in between those arcs cause this will not work otherwise OK THANKS), this is for the pre-time skip zoro girlies (he's 19 pre-time skip dont come for me), no use of y/n, the first half of this is just cute shenanigans between reader and the straw hats. its a lot of character building stuff but i like it.

word count: 6.3k

notes: HI GUYS IM BACK IVE MADE MY RETURN I FOUND SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!!!! and its the longest fic ive ever written too god damn what a comeback lmao. ok so i started watching one piece and im head over heels in love with this man...but i'm only up to water 7 rn so i only know how to properly write for pre-time skip zoro so thats how this is gonna go. i was looking for zoro/one piece fics to read but theyre literally all established relationship ones which aren't my cup of tea so im doing it myself lmao. also i didnt proofread i got too lazy sorry if some stuff doesnt make sense sorry sorry sorry but im a simple lazy tired girlie lmao enjoy!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You didn’t know any of their names.

You had been aboard the Going Merry for about three weeks now, and you still hadn’t learned anyone’s names. Granted, your reason for being there wasn’t to make friends anyway. That wasn’t particularly easy to do, being tied up in some storage closet and all. 

Being one of the few residents who actually lived on Jaya had allowed you to pick up a skill or two when it came to stealing. Pirates with big bounties and even bigger treasures left their ships unattended at the docks, leaving you with some perfect quick heists from time to time. Some steals were easier than others. As much as you believed in your talents, most of the time your ability to get out unscathed was based purely on the luck of the draw. It wasn’t an easy life, many recent nights leaving you with more injuries than berries and gold pieces, but it was all you knew having lived here for so long. 

After having taken a break from heists for a bit, you finally laid your eyes on a ship worth stealing from. A pirate ship with a goat out in front and seemingly orange trees next to the helm. Most of the ships at the dock had been there for a while, leaving the pirates on board used to your tricks already. Being low on cash was another factor. So, after a bit of planning, you made your way onto the ship.

Earlier, you had found that one of the windows to a cabin had been left open, so you decided to make your entrance through there. You gathered your things and dove into the crystal blue water by the dock. Once you made it to the back of the ship, you took your rope, with your own handmade grappling hook at the end, and swung it to hook on the window sill. Luckily for you, it stuck the landing on the first try. You smirked to yourself and used the hook as leverage to climb up onto the ship. Unfortunately, this seemed to be the ship’s bathroom. Not super ideal. You’d have to venture more out into the ship. But with this came the risk of getting caught. Given your dire circumstances though, it was a risk you were willing to take.

With an attempt to make as little creak as possible, you slightly opened the door into the rest of the interior. Coast was clear so far. Suddenly, a shake rattled throughout the interior. You tumbled onto the floor, pushing open a door due to your unbalance. What the fuck was that, you thought to yourself. It quickly became no matter though, when you noticed the door had opened up to a room with a treasure chest tucked away in the back. Jackpot. You slyly made your way into the room and shut the door behind you. 

The room was neatly kept, with bookshelves, a couch, two sleeping hammocks, and a desk with navigation tools on it. There was even a bar. Though temptation pursued at you, you had to stay on task. While making your way over to the chest, you heard different creaks vibrating across the walls of the ship. You prayed to yourself that it was just the wood’s reaction to the waves. As you had predicted, the chest was locked, so you searched your bag for anything that could key the lock. 

Time became of the essence quickly as the thuds and creaks on the ship grew louder and louder. Finally, the lock to the chest made a perfect click, as the chest unlocked. You lifted the roof of the chest to find a sight for sore eyes: jewels and gold galore. This was it, you were set. You were so in awe with the vision before you, that you had failed to notice the woman standing behind you. The image you saw in one of the emeralds was a tall figure, with jet-black hair just below her shoulders, and dazzling blue eyes. “Looking for something?” the woman questioned, almost sarcastically. You seemed to have forgotten rule number one of thieving. Remember to lock the door behind you.

Quick on your feet, you whip around to throw a punch in her face, but her reflexes seem to be quicker than yours by the way she catches your fist. You then attempt to kick out her legs. The image you see next shakes you to your core. A hand, seeming to appear out of thin air, attaches itself to your calf. The hand then slowly raises your fear-frozen body into the air, dangling you upside down like a party toy. You attempt to throw more hits at her, all seeming to be in vain though. You kick and scream, like a child throwing a tantrum, in an attempt to get out. The woman looks out into the hallway and signals over another one of her companions. Fuck, this is turning sour fast. Before you can make out any other features of the man, besides his cartoonishly long nose, he uses his slingshot to pelt a rock towards your forehead. Your vision goes black as the rest of the pirates rush into the room.

The rough fibers of the rope tying your wrists together were the first thing you felt as you woke up. This was quickly followed by the underlying nausea from the waves rocking the boat, reminding you why you preferred to stay on land. You attempted to stand up, but your dizziness and the rope tying you to the floor weren’t letting you get very far. Suddenly, the door to whatever room you were in swung open, and the group of 7 pirates living on board entered the room. You slinked yourself along the back wall, attempting to disappear into your skin. You weren’t sure what felt worse: The fear of what they were going to do to you, or the embarrassment that you had been doing this for so long and still got caught.

Nope, definitely the embarrassment.

The man, no boy was a better word to describe him, standing in the middle of them attempted to speak to you before a woman with short orange hair cut him off. “If you think we’re gonna let you get off easily just because we’re also pirates, you’d be sorely mistaken!” she spoke, fiery anger lacing her words. The tall woman from earlier put her hand on her shoulder, calming her down, and walked out towards you. You tried to scoot away as much as you could as she crouched down to your level. 

“Listen, we want this to be over as much as you do. We would love nothing more than to get you off our ship and drop you off at the nearest island. But unfortunately for us, that would mean having to find a group of marines to hand you over to, who we aren’t the best of friends with right now. And we can’t drop you back off at Jaya since we’re too far by this point. So, for now, we’ll just have to keep you tied down here if that works out with you.” You began to speak before the woman cut you off. “You don’t have much of a choice in the matter by the way.”

She stood back up and began to exit the room, the other pirates following her except for two. The boy with the straw hat and another man, with striking green hair and three swords lying in a holster on his belt. The boy looked somberly at you as if he was against this whole idea. But the green-haired one just stared at you. As uncomfortable as it made you feel, you couldn’t help staring back into his piercingly soft eyes. “Come on, let’s go,” the green-haired man said to the boy, finally breaking eye contact and turning his back to leave. The boy followed him shortly after. As he closed the door, you had nothing left to focus on except for the itchiness of the rope, the empty stuffiness surrounding the storage room, and your worsening seasickness.

The following weeks had the same routine. Each of the pirates on board took individual shifts watching you during the day when they were just out at sea. The strange reindeer creature would watch you when they were out on islands. The first shift was taken by the tall black-haired woman. She would come in at the break of dawn to make sure you didn’t find some way to escape at night. You two would sit in silence for a little more than two hours, asking and answering some questions before switching spots with the blonde one. His company was strange, with him hitting on you at random points in your conversations, but he always brought you breakfast in the morning. As much as he made you uncomfortable sometimes, you couldn’t deny that his cooking was the best you’d had in years. He’d even let you take a hit off his cigarettes if you ever asked, so his visits had its perks. 

The next shift was taken by the orange-haired one. The first thing she would always do when walking into the room was ask you how creepy the blonde one was. The answer varied on the day. Once she warmed up to you, she would bring you tangerines from the trees out on the deck. As the days passed, she eventually explained that the treasure you attempted to steal belonged to her, which you begrudgingly apologized for. On some level, you felt bad. These seemed to be small-time pirates, just trying to get by like you were. The more you learned about each of them, the worse you felt about your actions towards them. 

Around lunchtime, the long-nosed one would bring you your meal, cooked again by the blonde man. This member would go into detail about his next invention he was working on in his workshop. You admired his passion and energy towards his craft. His rants and rambles were normally interrupted by the reindeer creature coming in for his shift, causing intense, yet entertaining, arguments to break out between the two of them. The reindeer was the sweetest of all the crew members, always checking in on your health and helping you with your seasickness. He would talk about his home and his experiences there. You developed a pity for the creature. His presence was calming, and you felt as if you could let your guard down around him. That would change as soon as the straw hat boy would come bouncing into the room, scaring both you and the animal. You would soon come to learn the energetic boy was the captain of the ship, which shocked you. But you soon came to understand why. His crew had a massive respect for him, even if he was the root of half their problems.

Being on the ship, you got extremely close to all the pirates. Even the tall woman from before seemed to respect you in some way. You enjoyed all of their company. There was something strange about them though. One morning early in your stay on the ship, you could’ve sworn you’d heard the tall woman say something to the rest of the crew. 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell her your name. Your name is your biggest secret.”

You didn’t know any of their names. You had thought you heard some of them speak it to each other in passing conversations, but not enough to remember who was who. You had bonded with them, but if someone put a gun to your head and told you to name your prison guard pirates, you’d be dead in seconds.

Except for one.

Zoro seemed to be his name. He would come in for the last shift. His presence didn’t frighten you, but it slightly intimidated you. His habit of carrying his swords everywhere he went wasn’t helping. He was silent his entire shift, normally dosing off halfway through after spending around an hour sharpening his swords You didn’t even attempt to make conversation with him. You found out his name when the captain would yell for him to get back to his sleeping quarters. “Zoro! Your shift’s done, you can sleep for real now!” he shouted across the hall the first time it happened. Zoro almost bounced up from his sleep and gave you one look before bolting out of the room to catch up to the captain. You could hear the echoes of their bickering from down the hall as you giggled to yourself. At least he didn’t seem to always be that stern.

It seemed crazy to you. His name was the only one you knew, yet you knew the least about him. He had hardly said 5 sentences to you in the three weeks you had been on the boat. His stoicism was one of the things that drew you into him though. Something about his demeanor, how intensely he would sharpen his swords, how his worries seemed to melt away the minute he escaped into a slumber, and how alive he seemed when he was with his crew. It was enticing. You wanted to know more. You attempted asking him questions about himself, but the most you would get were one to two-word answers. The most you got from him was when your seasickness finally got to you, causing you to puke up the dinner the blonde one made for you. “Woah, are you okay?” he asked concernedly, shooting up from his seat. When your only response was a cough and more puke, he ran out of the room to go get the reindeer. One thing he failed to do was close the door behind him. 

You speculated your options. You had no idea where you were. You could be out in the middle of the ocean. Or you could be right about to dock at land. If you managed to scrape yourself about the ever-loosening rope and sneak out, you’d be free. You’d never have to worry about these pirates again. 

At this point though, did you want to?

You took too long to decide, the reindeer rushing into the room with his medical kit, the blonde one short behind him. As the reindeer gave you a dose of medicine and cleaned up your mess and the blonde one held your hand and consoled you, your attention stayed by the doorframe. Zoro leaned against the wood, watching the work from afar. What shocked you most of all was his face. For a man who seemed so disinterested in you and your existence, his brows were furrowed, his cheeks had a light pink stain on them, and a slight frown invaded his face. He was concerned. Maybe even a little nervous. But why? He’d never shown any sort of emotion towards you before other than sleepiness. Once the reindeer and the blonde one left, he continued with his shift. You noticed something though. He sat closer to you than he normally did. 

You couldn’t tell, but you were blushing the rest of his shift.

Once he left, you sat in silence, thoughts racing through your mind, until you finally fell asleep.

You noticed a change in his behavior in the next few days. When you would ask him a question, he would respond now. And with more than just a “yes” or “no” too. He had more energy around you and wouldn’t spend his whole shift asleep. He would even let out a chuckle now and then. You didn’t know what you had done differently to get him like this, but you liked him like this. He was sweeter than he let on. 

Something had changed in you too though. On the occasions, you would catch yourself looking over his appearance. The more you observed, the more you realized how handsome he was. His clear, warm skin, his hypnotic eyes, his striking hair. You caught his appearance giving you butterflies when he would walk into your storage room. Your heart skipping a beat when he would give you even the smallest smile. You would stare even more when he would nap during his shift. Noticing certain things. The way his breath would hitch sometimes. How he always slept with his mouth open and would wake himself up sometimes with his dry mouth coughs. How his chest rose and fell with his soft breaths. How fighting with a sword in his mouth probably made his tongue stronger than other men you’ve met. You felt weird about it sometimes. Almost like some freakish stalker. But you would feel better about yourself whenever you would catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

As time went on, the crew began to give you some more freedom. The tall woman began leaving some of her archeology books in the storage room to keep you entertained. The orange-haired one would show you all her marked-up maps. The long-nosed one would even let you out of the rope to test his inventions from time to time. With the door locked of course. And then, the big display came. One day, during everyone’s shift, they told you their names. The blonde one was Sanji. The orange-haired one was Nami. The reindeer was Chopper. The long-nosed one was Usopp. Their captain was Luffy. And the tall woman, who initiated your imprisonment, was Robin. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. With each passing shift, you grew more excited for the next. To learn the next pirate’s name, and with that, their story. Until the last shift of the day came. And you realized.

You already knew his name.

“My name’s Zoro,” he said quietly. “I know,” you replied, bluntly. 

Something felt different about this shift. You didn’t feel the same excitement you normally felt when seeing him. Without your connection to him before, his being the only name you knew, something about him just didn’t excite you as much. Now he noticed your behavior change. “You okay?” he inquired. “Mhm,” you responded in monotony. The rest of his time there was spent in silence. 

You felt bad about what you were doing. This wasn’t his fault. Yet you were acting like this. It was almost as if the two of you swapped places. He was now the one trying to dig information out of you. And you gave him nothing more than blank faces and empty words. You wished you could figure out why you were acting like this, but you had no clue.

Today though, the crew was going to take an extra step towards including you. Throughout your time on the Going Merry, you had only left your little storage room prison a few times. To go to the bathroom and visit the kitchen on special occasions. But you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. After proving to the crew you had changed, they planned a little surprise for you.

Robin woke you up earlier than usual. “Is everything ok?” you asked, still half asleep. Robin just smiled at you. “Come on, get up.” You looked at her confused, as she walked over to your restraints, untying you from the hook keeping the rope down. She took you by your restraints and walked you out to the room. The mix of drowsiness and confusion left you slightly panicked as you realized she was walking you out to the deck. She opened the door to a still-dark morning. 

The rest of the Straw Hats were sitting out on the deck, just conversing and eating an extra early breakfast, courtesy of Sanji. They all turned to you once you and Robin walked out. “What’s going on,” you asked, still very confused. “On Thursdays, we all like to get up early and sit out and watch the sunrise. And we were talking about it, and we felt like you should join us this time,” Nami smiled. She stood up and pranced over to you, mouth slightly agape and speechless, and took you over to sit in between her and Zoro. You turned to Zoro, overwhelmed with emotions. 

It had been so long since you felt a part of a community of people. You never exactly fit in with the ruthless bands of pirates coming and going on Jaya. Finally feeling connected to people, especially after you wronged them so horribly, brought you happiness you hadn’t felt in ages. 

A singular “I-” was all you could manage to get out, a tear trickling down your cheek. “Just enjoy it. They’ll be at each other’s throats again in a minute,” he joked, getting a soft laugh out of you. He smiled gently, brushing the tear off your cheek. His finger lingered there longer than expected. You blushed. The butterflies were back and you caught yourself staring again.

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Nami interrupted. “Well, it’s true!” Zoro retorted, leaning over you to yell at Nami. The two began arguing as you noticed the sun starting to peak out over the horizon. “Shut up you two, you’re gonna make her miss it!” Usopp and Luffy yelled. They stopped bickering once they also noticed the sky begin to turn orange. 

The pinks and oranges mixed together in a beautiful watercolor painting as the sun reflected its image on the ocean. The soft waves bobbed the ship up and down in a calming hypnotic motion, almost putting you back to sleep. The beauty of it all was so serene. Against popular opinion, you always preferred sunrises to sunsets. The representation of a new day beginning. It gave you hope in your most dire situations. 

You lifted your head back to see the colors slowly spreading to the rest of the sky. Everyone to your right was in the same headspace you were like they were in some sort of trance. They were all cuddling against each other, Robin holding Chopper in her lap, Luffy and Usopp mimicking each other’s smiles, and Nami resting her head on Sanji’s shoulder. They all seemed so close to each other. Like a little family. Connected. You turned to Zoro to see if he was doing the same as the others, but all you found was his eyes softly gazing into yours, and his hand slowly inching towards yours. The minute he snapped out of it, he sharply turned his head and hand away and cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh at his schoolboy behavior. With your ego controlling your actions, you took his hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You could see a smile float onto his face out of the corner of your eye. You did the same.

The rest of the day was spent out on the deck. The feeling of the sun on your skin for the first time in weeks was euphoric. All you wanted to do was soak it all in. The Straw Hats must have been in a good mood today, because, with some extra convincing, you got them to finally take off your shackles. You spent most of the day sunbathing out on the deck with Nami. She had let you borrow one of your bikinis. You two were slightly different sizes though, so the suit was a little tight on you. You didn’t mind very much. You were just happy to be out of the same clothes you had worn for 3 weeks. Sanji didn’t mind either, ogling both you and Nami and basically worshipping the two of you. “It’s ok, he’ll get over it in a few hours,” Nami consoled. You circled the deck a few times to see if Zoro was anywhere in sight, but you couldn’t seem to find him. He probably went inside to nap away from the heat. Part of you wanted him to get the rest he deserved. The other really wanted him to see you in your outfit. 

The day really took a turn when Usopp brought out the liquor from the kitchen. “I was saving that asshole!” Sanji yelled. “Oh come on, this is a special occasion!” Usopp pleaded. With some more convincing, Sanji finally gave in. You and the crew got increasingly drunk throughout the evening, Zoro eventually coming out from wherever he was napping to join the party. You all had even decided to jump into the ocean and swim around for a little bit. All except for Chopper, very sober and very nervous for any incoming sea monsters. He had managed to get you all back onto the ship with some very convincing pleading.

You and Zoro caught each other catching glimpses of one another throughout the rest of the day. Zoro admiring your figure in the swimsuit, and you ogling at the way his damp shirt hugged at his muscles. One by one, as day grew into night, crew members began to pass out on the deck, deciding to sleep outside for the night. You and the other members who wanted to go back into the cabin, Zoro and Robin, made your way back down into the ship. “Make sure you tie her back up. No hard feelings but we can’t be too careful.” Even slightly tipsy, she was still her stern old self. “Yeah whatever whatever, goodnight to you too,” Zoro drunkenly pushed off. You giggled and blushed as he took your hand and led you down the stairs into the cabin. Robin sighed to herself as she watched the two of you scamper off.

You felt your heartbeat get increasingly faster as he led you to your room. For some reason, the air in the hallway got thicker as you got closer. You blamed it on your tipsiness. But your heart slowly sank as you got to the door, realizing you had to say goodbye to Zoro for the day. He opened the door and stumbled into your room, leading you in behind him. He closed the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before going to wrap the rope back around your wrists. 

He seems distressed for some reason, breathing heavily and avoiding eye contact. You look down at your hands, as he so gently maneuvers the rope around them. The butterflies begin to well up in your stomach again, the alcohol fueling their ferocity. His hands. So calloused yet so gentle. You can smell the remnants of sake exuding from Zoro’s heavy breaths. You looked back up at him. Were you two always standing this close together? You the butterflies keep rising and rising. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re not sure if you should run, kiss him, punch him, but you have to do something before you implode. Until. He stops.

The rope undoes itself in his hands as he freezes. His hands are shaking, his breath is heavy, and his eyes avoid yours like the plague. You were just getting antsy but Zoro seemed in distress. “Hey?” you ask, lowering your hands and dropping the rope to the floor. “Zoro?” You take your hand under his chin and lift his eyes to yours. You might throw up at any second. His eyes are so softly intense. 

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, sending chills down your spine. You both want the same thing. Both of you are just too scared to take the chance. “It’s ok. You’re okay,” you reassure him, placing your hand over his heart. His heart, which happens to be underneath his bare chest, him having taken off his wet shirt earlier. His breathing slows, and his eyes move down ever so smoothly from your eyes to your plump lips. You catch yourself doing the same to him, and you inching closer to him. “You’re fine.” Closer. “We’re gonna be…fine.” Your lips barely brush each other. The gentleness of the kiss is calming though, as you notice Zoro’s breath slowing. 

You brush again. And again. And again. Lips touching a little more with each meet. Until they fully interlock. The two of you melt into each other as Zoro wanders your back into a wall for support. Your kisses are structured, made to get the most out of each meeting. You’re both ravenous for each other, but you know if you go at each other like mad dogs, you won’t get what you want. So you both take your time getting to know the feeling of the other person’s mouth. You slip a moan out as Zoro’s tongue seeps between your lips. His kisses get slightly more sloppy as he runs his hands down your body. He feels the underneath of your breasts, the curves of your waist and hips, and finds a nice resting place under your ass. Your hands roam his cheeks and jaw, making their way to tug slightly on his moss-colored hair. 

“Needed this,” Zoro whispers in between kisses. “Needed you so badly. But I didn’t know how.” He separates his lips from yours and plants kisses and hickeys along your jaw and neck. “I was always just too nervous for some reason. You make me so nervous.” His hands find their way into your bikini bottom and fondle your asscheeks, getting a low moan out of you. The alcohol must’ve given him a confidence boost. “Good to see you found your footing now,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles, the butterflies speeding up in your stomach. 

The two of you stay here for a little bit. Hell, you could stay like this for hours. Just soaking each other in. Feeling his warmth brought a fire into your soul. You could tell Zoro was getting a little antsy though, one of his hands moving from your back to your front, beginning to slowly circle your clit. The other hand went to your bikini, untying the back and letting it fall to the floor as his mouth moved to your breast. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body as you let him do his work. “God, you sure this is your first time?” you moaned out. He removed his mouth from your nipple to talk. “Never said it was, sweetheart. You just assumed it.” “Well from the loner vibe you got going on mixed with being on this ship 24/7, you can’t blame me for thinking that.” “Well the loner vibe worked on you, so who’s to say it hasn’t worked on others?” he smirked. You laughed to yourself as he got down on his knees.

Zoro slipped off your bikini bottom, completing the set on the floor. He kissed your v-line with the same softness he treated your lips to. He sat back on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, looking up at you, as if to ask for permission. You held your hand out to his cheek and rubbed it with your thumb. His eyes closed as he placed his hand over yours, as if you would ever take it away from him. God now this was a sight you could get used to. He was so infatuated with you it made your heart ache. He was right here at your disposal, yet you wanted more of him. So you bent down and gave him a sloppy forehead kiss. Once you were back up, he decided to go in. 

Like most things he does, he started slow and controlled. He kissed and sucked on your inner thighs. Once his hand finally left your clit, you knew he was ready. He kissed your cunt, using his tongue to lick up your wetness. You could pass out right now if you had less self-control. Whimpers and moans left your lips, your hips naturally starting to grind against his nose, relieving the ache in your clit. You let him know what felt good by the tugs and yanks you put in his hair. He was a natural. Your guess about his tongue earlier was right too. “You taste so good, just as I imagined,” Zoro breathed onto your lips. You could tell he was starting to lose his composure with the way he continued to bury his face into your pussy. Your cunt naturally tightened around his tongue as he tasted you. Your hips began to buck into his face as your grinding pace increased, the butterflies turning into a white heat you felt getting stronger and stronger. Your bud was becoming more swollen by the second. Your grip on his hair tightened to make up for your failing knees. 

You wouldn’t be able to take much more. Zoro wouldn’t either, his hand making its way into his pants to relieve his own bulge. His pace got faster to match your grinds. The smack of your lips against his tongue, mixed with both of your moans, was pornographically loud. Suddenly, the situation of Robin or another crew member hearing became an apparent one to you. That worry quickly left your mind once one of Zoro’s hands made its way to fondle your nipple. If he asked you to follow him anywhere right now, you might just do it if it meant this every other night. You felt he knew your body better than you did. “So pretty. So good for me. You make this so easy,” Zoro groaned between licks. “Zoro god fuck me please!” Your final whimper sent you over the edge as you wailed and came all over his perfect face. He licked up your juices as he finished his own job as well. Your knees finally gave out as you fell on top of him, into his arms.

He brought you down gently, straddling you on his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. He traced his cum soaked hand across your back and kissed your nape. You were more exhausted than expected, almost passing out in the crook of his neck. Even now, he was so gentle with you. “You did so good, darling,” he praised, kissing your earlobe. “Want…more…want you…inside me,” you managed to get out. He just laughed and pushed you up to look at you. “If you took me right now, I don’t think you’d wake up tomorrow morning. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart,” he teased. You pouted. “Oh, you feel that proud of yourself?” your drunkenness fueling your frustration. “No no no, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Once your frown didn’t change, he stopped laughing and pressed a kiss deep into your forehead. “I’m sorry. What I meant was, if I fucked you with everything I have left right now, which is the only way I would want to do it, this floor would leave us with sore backs for weeks.” You stayed frowning. “I want to fuck you right, the way you deserve. And I can’t do it for you right now.” You pouted more at him. He smiled up at you and leaned in closer to your ear. “If you trust me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be walking funny for weeks.” God, you almost came again just now. You didn’t notice how much your jaw dropped until Zoro laughed at you. You couldn’t help but laugh back in tune with his infectious laughter. 

He kissed you with a fever behind his lips, then scanned the room around the two of you. “What’s wrong?” you drowsily asked. The exhaustion from you coming, the sleepiness brought by the alcohol, and how late it was getting was starting to overpower you. Zoro didn’t respond. He just grabbed your swimsuit and helped you put it back on, tightened your legs around his hips, and hoisted you up as he stood. You decided to ask questions once you had a clearer idea of what was happening. He opened the door and walked with you down the hallway, passing the girl’s quarters and into the men’s room. He checked inside quickly before bringing you in and signaling you to bring your legs down. You confusedly followed him to his bed as he groaned, rubbed his back, and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Wanna explain to me what you’re doing?” you asked, slightly more awake. “If you think I’m just gonna leave you to sleep alone, tied up, on that dirty floor after what we just did, then you must think I’m a really shitty guy,” Zoro quipped before getting under the covers and trying to pull you down. You put some resistance towards him though. 

“B-but Zoro, I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“I know.”

“If someone catches me in here we’re both fucked.”

“They won’t catch you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll wake up before Robin starts her shift.”

“Are you sure, I mean I just don’t kn-.”

“Hey.”

You stop your nervous rabbling and look at him as he sits back up. “Do you want to go back and sleep on the cold, dirty, hard floor?” You really didn’t. “No.” “Then stay here with me.” “But what if-.” “Do you trust me?”

You sure hope you did after all of that. His kind eyes reassured you in the darkness surrounding the two of you. You took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked again. “I trust you, Zoro,” you confirmed. He smiled kindly at you. “You’re fine. We’re gonna be fine.” He steadied you by placing his hands on your hips, running his hands along your waist, and pressing his lips into your tummy. You loved the way he looked at you. Like you were his whole world. It was comforting.

He took your hand and helped you into bed. You bundled yourself under the covers and wrapped yourself around his frame. He kissed your temples one more time before slipping into sleep, his light snores hypnotizing you into a slumber of your own.

The last thing you remember before dozing off was the feeling of his hands on your waist.

Everything you wanted was right here. In front of you. Straight out of a dream. Your only fear was that it would be gone once you woke up.

a/n: THIS TOOK FOREVER GOOD LORD. anyways thanks for being here for my comeback era lol. my upload schedule is NOT going to be consistent this is just a little splurge i wanted to write lol. thank you for reading i really appreciate it (i also really appreciate engagement lol please like repost comment etc im greedy). i love one piece and i love zoro. once i meet law expect all hell to break loose im gonna write so much fanfiction about him its concerning hes so fine im so excited. anyways lol thanks love you bye.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #x reader #zoro x reader

[rallentando1011]

hey so can I get a scenario with rise donnie’s s/o coming up to him and invited him to a restaurant in the hidden city where it has couples dancing? Entices him with his favourite music that’s gonna be playing and massive puppy eyes?

late nights, flashing lights

rise Donnie x gn reader

“Come on, it’s the weekend! Why not do something special?”

Donnie flipped up his goggles in response to your question and set down his welding gun, sparks ceasing to fly at his confusion. “I haven’t the slightest notion on what the day of the week has to do with my choice of activities.”

“Our choice of activities - we’re hanging out right now, so it’s collective,” you corrected.

“Fine - our choice of activities. Sitting and working and engaging in riveting discussions is all we do on other nights, so what makes this one any different?”

You paused. All week, you had been planning a surprise for him - a trip to a quaint little disco in the Hidden City you’d heard about from April. She’d sent you some pictures from when she’d gone with Sunita and Casey, and then the idea took root.

But it was easier said than done.

Planning to surprise your turtle was difficult primarily for two reasons: the snoop always found out about it in advance (which you’d avoided narrowly this time by not mentioning anything about any plans tonight) and, the most difficult part, trying to get him to choose to go out of the lair, the step you found yourself currently stuck on. Still, you were going to try.

“I don’t know,” you replied coolly, “maybe the fact that it’s supposed to be the end of the week, time to relax or go out or something?”

“Out?”

“Yes. Out. With me. Instead of holing yourself up in the lab or whatever,” you mumbled.

“Out where? Not a lot of Homo sapien-mutant-accepting entertainment establishments come to mind, and, much as I love pretending not to be myself,” he flicked his goggles back down and turned back to his workspace.“I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for it right now.”

“Well.” You didn’t want to say that you knew of one in particular because that sort of spoiled the surprise element of the night. Hesitantly, you suggested, “we can try to look for one?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, hand stopping just shy of picking up his welding tool once more. “I don’t know…”

“Could we please just give it a shot?” Hook.

You nudged his arm, mustering up the warmest look you had. Line. “Any time you want to come back or feel uncomfortable, we’re headed right back here.”

Donnie glanced back over to you, and you could discern the exact moment he caved. Sinker. “Sure.”

The next half hour consisted of throwing on sweatshirts, linking arms and whipping out of the lair straight toward one of the many entrances to the Hidden City.

As you wandered through portals, down ramps and bystreets, the turtle you were practically dragging along looked at you exceedingly more quizzically.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Donnie eventually muttered.

“What?” you asked incredulously, quite unconvincingly. “No, of course not. Just meandering randomly. What gave you that impression?”

“Oh, nothing - just the fact that you’re walking with assertion in a seemingly predetermined path.”

A subtle smirk worked its way onto your face. “Maybe.”

He scowled, lighthearted. “Oh, sweet Galileo- why mustn’t you ask me out with you straightforwardly when you already have plans?”

You pulled on his sleeve to direct you two left before pushing the entrance of your location open for him. “Because then I wouldn’t get to see the look on your face when I take you places like this.”

As soon as he stepped foot in the building, you saw the glow in his eyes, his radiant beam, and they were far more beautiful than the already gorgeous venue.

The pictures you’d seen of it looked good, but seeing it in person was even better; with the amber lights and colorful tiled-dance floor and overhead disco ball, the place looked like it was ripped straight out of the 80’s. 

“It’s a discotheque, baby!” you grinned, throwing an arm back around his shoulder. “Last one like this within, like, a thousand mile radius.”

“Woah!” Somehow his eyes lit up even more when he looked back at you. It was stunning. “How have I not heard of this place?”

“I mean, that checks out. April recommended it, and apparently it took Sunita forever to find somewhere with a more traditional disco - it only plays 70’s and 80’s hits. You’re welcome.”

Donnie was still stupefied. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

“I heard they’ve got some tables over there for dining, and that the drinks from there-”

Your hand was gently snatched from the air where it was pointing at a countertop across the room. You looked down at the tridactyl hand holding it, then up its owner.

The turtle grinned, finally pulled from his daze and emphatically lucid. The look in his eyes bore a striking resemblance to the exact one you’d used to get him to agree to come here. “We can get into the dives and dining and whatnot later - for right now, care to dance?”

“I mean, I have a reservation for-”

Another hand on your waist was all it took to shut you up, and slowly walking backwards landed the both of you on floor, and pulling you closer resulted in the both of you grinning and spinning and dancing.

As a myriad of killer songs blasted from the front of the room, you found yourself inundated with a seeping, saccharine satisfaction, partially derived from doing the merengue and cha-cha and some deviant of the Cabbage Patch along with many more improvisations, but mostly from the sheer elation exuded by your dance partner.

Even as you two continued to bounce to Whitney or sway to Prince, his focus stayed on you, eyes locked, with scarcely a moment without a hand or arm making contact with you.

Somehow, just that affectionate attention, that carefree yet caring energy made the efforts of getting him into a social setting and keeping a surprise from the nosiest person in the world abundantly more than worth it.

#Back to work on requests 😮‍💨 #I love this request very much #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise season 3 #rottmnt fanart #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #Dancing #rise donnie fanart #rise donnie x reader #rise donatello x reader #rise donnie #rise donatello #rise doodle #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donatello #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #Request

[clarks-letterman]

Danny reuniting with Reader- an old childhood friend- in the Entitys Realm ?

Reader can be Survivor or Killer , i think both concepts could be fun :]c

old friends | danny johnson x gender-neutral reader

a/n — hope its good! haven’t written for dbd yet and tried to make some stuff more plausible and fleshed out, and i really hope it doesn’t contradict any messy lore the game has!

words — 1.5k

~~~

When Danny woke up in the Entity's realm, he was unsurprised to find himself the sole addition to an already established line of powerful killers. He made a scary tale of himself to haunt survivors—you never know when he could be watching—and got as close to a "friend" as he could be with the other masked murderers like him, and with the wannabes that never could be him. But it wasn't always like that.

In his hometown, someplace far from where he'd eventually end up, he went to school most of the year, had a job over the summer, and made one good friend for any time he needed comfort. He usually didn’t, but there were times when he wanted to toy with someone’s feelings in a way that kept violence out of it. Animals were an enjoyable enough target for him to keep him off of people, like the occasional rabbit or frog strolling through his backyard.

That’s what it started as, at least. It was surprisingly simple to get on your good side; he lent an ear when you needed it and stayed distant when he knew he had you hooked. But he grew to like you as an actual friend with the more time he spent around you, both when you knew about it and when you didn’t. As he got older, he found himself having fewer and fewer friends. Because alongside his age, his twisted mind became more and more obscured, and in his aim to hide it, he hid more of himself away. What once was a tactic to draw you in eventually stopped working, and you confronted his hot and cold behavior.

It became fitting for his job and hobby, needing to hide himself behind the camera’s eye and tucked away in the darkness around his victim’s houses. Now, the latter seemed to be the most useful in the latest game the Entity conjured up. He tries not to think about how it severed the connection he had with his only real friend.

Danny looked around the new location—a line of houses with a four-way street meeting in the middle to divide each house into their own irregularly shaped yard and fence. It looked homely, like the defunct township of Springwood and the segment of old townhouses on the street he knew as Lampkin Lane.

Darting off, he made sure to creep around the edges of the arena, prowling around with a glint in his eye. He heard the swish of footsteps towards a generator as he rounded a car on the street. The night covered him on command. He raised his blade and peered around the corner. Two sacrifices for the Entity worked on the archaic machinery, one covered by the generator as Danny was on the opposing side, and the other was to the left side of it, open and vulnerable. His eyes lingered on the subject—small, male, companion, wrapped in bloody business-casual. The generator chimed with rapid success, so Danny discerned the figure to be the wimpy scampered Dwight Fairfield.

Danny felt a chill of excitement run along his spine; the self-imposed timer had started—a moment where he knew his victim in and out, able to deal the most damage with the least effort to them. Dwight finally noticed the shadowy figure to his right and made a run to the nearest house. Danny pursued the fleeing man, passing the second person working on machinery to chase the easier target. He followed closely behind Dwight through the doorway he entered and into the house.

He trailed behind him on the wooden stairs and swung for his ankles with a missed strike, leaving a chipped divot in one of the steps. Dwight ran to the end of the hall where there was a window—surely, he would take it—so Danny planned to swing again. But, Dwight made a hard left into the room next to it, and he missed his attack for the second time. He turned, looked into the room, and another open window looked right back at him. The bedroom wall made a great frame for the street just outside. Out beyond the view, he heard the sound of two generators starting up with a sputter, and he knew that a third one was soon to be tackled.

He was down the stairs and out the door in seconds, running to just barely meet the cutoff for Dwight’s impending doom by using his sharpened senses to pick up on where the frightened man could have gone. Without much work, he found him just in time as he cowered near a small bush for coverage, hoping he would be overlooked. Unfortunately for Dwight, Danny had him cornered and gravely injured with one sweep of his knife across his back.

The second survivor came running towards him as he picked up Dwight: a taller, lighter-haired guy in a blue cop uniform. Leon, Wesker said his name was. He was one of the more pesky survivors, as he had the ability to craft the most annoying form of counter-play against someone on the opposite team. His flashbang went off without much help this time, though, and Danny managed to keep his hold on Dwight firm. He swung for Leon, got him once, and tracked down a hook to throw Dwight on.

No one came for the poor schmuck, as usual. No one looked for him when he was still considered alive, and the same went for him now, as the Entity’s grasp sent a wave throughout the playing field that the other side was down a team member. Danny managed to down Leon without the wasted time needed to study him and lured the third survivor his way, injuring him and sending him into a sprint for his life. Eventually, he downed him as well and had the both of them resting peacefully before meeting their dooms on hooks across the map. He saw a glimpse of the fourth and final survivor as they ran around a corner, though Danny was carrying his third victim at the time and solely focused on getting them on a hook above all else.

Danny receded into the darkness, letting it shroud him in it as he traversed the map, looking for the final member of the game. That’s when he saw them in the same room he had chased Dwight up to, investigating the wall of all things. He was sure of it, as strange as it sounded, because he couldn’t recall a generator appearing in that room, let alone that floor of the house. Regardless, he made his way back up and through the door. He hit you once while you were distracted and twice when you took the window as a form of escape, watching you fall on the other side.

The scream sounded painfully familiar to one in his past. His trained ears recognized it as the same scream from when you had accidentally scared yourself into thinking a dust bunny was the same deadly spider in Australia. Danny’s legs shook as he stepped over the window he didn’t cross through earlier and out onto the small ledge, realizing that this was the same window he had been ushered out of as a teenager when you weren’t allowed to have friends over and had to sneak him in, or when he would happily invite himself into your home. He looked around, taking in the sights now that he wasn’t pursuing anyone. This place was more than just a haunting image of homeliness; it was his home—hell, it was your whole damn block.

He rushed over to you, simply standing for a moment, watching you turn and do your best to look up at him. Danny had the advantage of wearing a mask, so he could get as close and as personal as he wanted. Unless, in the months or years that had gone by in the real world, you finally caught wind of his cross-country endeavors. Not wanting to give himself away, he hoisted you over his shoulder as he would with anyone else, leaping off the ledge and onto your front lawn. He felt your fists pounding against his back, struggling and fighting to be free. His one hook near the house had been used for a sacrifice, and the nearest one was still too far for him to make it in time. With a strange feeling of relief, you had worn him out for a moment, and you ran away from him, limbering for a final chase that never came.

Danny seemingly disappeared but had cloaked himself in the night again to stalk you from afar. He watched you run straight to the open hatch on the floor. He had decided that he studied you long enough with his stare; he knew all of your weak points and where to strike first, but he couldn't bring himself to approach you when you were so close to freedom. With a huff that echoed in his mask, he watched you disappear into the darkness, and the Entity surrounded him until he was deep in the woods with a few killers that hadn't been called for a match.

#x male reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x female reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you #danny johnson x gender neutral reader #danny johnson x gn reader #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd x male reader #dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #fanfic #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x male reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x male reader #ghostface x you #danny johnson x male reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader

[patrophthia]

masterlist

last updated: dec, 07, 2023 don't like masterlist ? find my work here !

most of my work, if not all, are written using fem pronouns.

🌷: fluff | 🌾: angst | 🍀: humor | 🪷: smut | 🌟: personal fav

◎ mauraders era

halloween blurb

get up | series masterlist

new jeans 2nd ep ‘get up’ out now and every all streaming platform! which track would like to listen to today?

→ sirius black

sycamore girl | 12.3k 🌷 / 🍀 / 🌟

sirius black has the smartest plan in mind for scamming his family, and it might or might not be faking a marriage.

libraries and abs | 1.7k 🌷 / 🍀

sirius makes sure that his girlfriend does well on her test if that was the last thing he does.

make you mine | 1.7k 🌷

part of my get up series

it's hard having crushes, its even harder when you're someone who's on the shyer side crushing on someone as popular as sirius black; good things lily evans has it in herself to play a little bit of matchmaker!

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

just kiss already! | hello kitty clips

→ remus lupin

can i kiss you? | series 🌷 / 🍀

an AUs series of established relationship!reader and remus.

bad habits | 1.6k🌷 / 🌾?

remus bites his tongue, it’s a bad habit.

it wasn’t implied? | 4.2k 🌷 / 🌾

to quote clairo: girlfriend or girl that’s a friend? is what you wanted to ask remus when everything becomes a little too complicated.

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

it’d be an honor |

→ james potter

falling for ya | 1.7k 🌷 / 🍀

mutual pining with james

the triwizard tournaments | 7.4k 🌷 / 🌾

what happens when james claims that you’re his girlfriend to save face? well let’s find out!

what letters? | 3.1k 🌷 / 🌾

what happens when your letters to james gets lost on their way over right after you confessed your feelings to him? apparently way too much confusion for the both of you

say the word and i’m down | 4.5k 🌷 / 🌾

part of my get up series

your boyfriend is a dick but your best friend james always has your back so maybe, maybe it was time you ended things with him

→ regulus black

what once was | 2.6k 🌷 / 🌟

academic rivals to lovers but it’s with regulus!

willow | 3.8k 🌷

life was a willow and it bent right through your wind

idiots to lovers | 2k 🌷

an argument leading to confessions in the rain!

dresses and fish bait | 0.59k 🌷 / 🍀

reg being annoying bf/best boy at the same time

cruel summer | 1.1k 🌷 / req

regulus purposely throws a game just so people could know about the two of you.

how you get the girl | 1.7k 🌷/ req

best friend CFO!regulus au!

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

better man | what’s wrong with secretary, lupin? | the carpet incident | meowtoos | does it pawther you? | unicorn and squids | a(cceptable)

◎ golden era

→ george weasley

christmas gifts | 1.6k 🌷/ req

your biggest comfort will always be the weasley, whether they force you to join their christmas or not

→ theodore nott | headcanons

love is sour grapes | 5.9k 🌷/ 🌾 / 🌟

theodore is a quiet piece of shit and that leads to miscommunication and complicated feelings

impossible | 2.4k 🌷

fluffy established relationships with theo after reader gets a little (tiny teenie bit) hurt whilst playing quidditch

red ears, and redder string | 7.2k 🌷 / 🌾 / req

red string soulmate!au with theodore!!

fairy of shampoo | 3.9k 🌾 / req

theodore doesn’t know how to talk to reader

take you to the basics | 3.9k 🌷/🍀/ 🌟

theodore is new to this dating thing and his friends + the golden trio are there to help!

try again | 1.1k 🌾 / req

the classic trope of blaise zabini meddling between you and your exes relationship during draco’s engagement dinner

just curious | 2.2 🌾

words of advice: don’t fall in love with your best friend’s other best friend!

attention is what i want! | 4.3k 🌾

it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

mini skirt | 3.5k 🌷🪷

blaise zabini’s idea of how to play matchmaker might be different from the traditional way of doing it but at least you ended up getting dicked down, so you guess his method works too.

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

ASAP | you’re nice | hey emo boy! | too spicy for your heart | you’ve bewitched me | you’re my favorite comic | ditto | thought you loved me | make it make sense | just fine | dirty little liar

◎ riddle era

→ tom riddle

do not make him ‘go away’ | 4.6k 🌷 / 🍀 / 🌟

the head boy tom riddle might or might not just fancy a certain hufflepuff who doesn’t seem fazed by his charms.

show me how | 1.2k 🌾?

tom can’t love, but he’s willing to learn how.

love again | 2k 🌷 / 🍀 / req

tom finds himself attracted to someone who wasn’t phased by his charms

from the glue | 1.1k 🌷/ req

tom never thought he’d find love, but you’re here now and so he loves you.

★ blurbs (fics under 1k words)

know you better | new jeans, do you see? | not funny riddle untitled |

© please do not reupload/translate my work unless i give you my consent to do so!

#— masterlist

[charliehoennam]

The Letter

Summary: Tony gets the order to deploy well into the relationship with the girls of his dreams and fears of history repeating begin to bubble.

Pairing: Tony Swofford x F!reader

Warnings: a lil smut towards the end (NO MINORS, PLEASE) and unprotected sex in established relationship (wrap yalls willies)

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG!

One early Friday morning, Tony rolled out of bed. He splashed some water on his face, slid into his basketball shorts and sneakers. He then headed to the kitchen to make his usual protein shake.

Just another regular day before heading into work.

Once he was set for his morning jog, he set his MP3 player in its holster and latched it onto his arm, letting the music flow from the earbuds to energize his body.

Tony's neighborhood wasn’t anything too fancy. Fairfield was definitely a nice town to live in with it's growing economy and military influence.

Although he'd grown up in the nice part of the suburbs, he now lived in a less nicer part of town due to military housing. There were definitely worse parts of Fairfield to end up in, so he couldn't complain about the neighborhood. Despite being a little far from town, there wasn't really much to complain about...except some neighbors.

Early morning was his favorite time of day. The air was cool and crisp before the California could fully set out and melt the town away. What he really enjoyed the most was the peaceful calm before the daily whirlwind of routine and people.

Tony wasn’t much of a fitness freak. The Military did help him realize the importance of staying in shape, having strong stamina - something that came in handy when you slept over each other's place - and staying hydrated.

He jogged along the sidewalk, weaving through his neighborhood and panting as he controlled his breathing until his walking break where he would hum out the song he was listening to.

The best thing about this time was that there were very few people who were also up and about.

It allowed him to avoid the flirtatious single (and not so single) women. He didn’t give them much time of day, but he always found it challenging to simply ignore them.

He had been raised by traditional parents and taught to always respect women, no matter what. However, being a heavily influence military town, there were the usual lonely mothers and wives seeking company.

Tony loved you more than anything, so he wouldn't stand for it.

He had already been cheated on and getting over his cheating ex was one of the hardest things he'd gone through, given that it happened while he was on deployment. He couldn't imagine causing that pain onto you or to a fellow marine.

So, as soon as the flirting would start coming from the lonely neighbors that greeted him in questionable silky robes or lacy nightgowns, he’d either excuse himself to extract him from the situation as quickly as possible or avoid stopping, only responding with a nod of his head.

Having you as his girlfriend helped to get away. Sometimes, at least. The more vulgar women brushed it off nothing that could stop them and offered to keep the secret, but Tony wasn’t interested or attracted to anyone else but you.

And, in the cases where the lonely women would try to convince him to come inside for some coffee, he'd simply remind them that he had a girlfriend to pick up to take to work.

You didn't need the ride, but it was a subtle reminder that he was off limits.

Ignoring them that morning was only much easier since his mind wouldn't stop thinking about the following day when he would be taking you to the Santa Monica Pier.

He couldn’t believe you when you’d said you had never been there yet. Although a California native himself, the Santa Monica Pier was known worldwide. It had also been one of his favorite places growing up.

He was more excited to see you that night. He’d invited you to come over to his place to spend the night so you could leave early in the morning for your five-hour road trip.

He wanted to surprise you with freshly made pasta although he knew he was in over his head, but you were worth all the effort.

He took notice that the mailman was already making his rounds around the neighborhood. So, when he came up his street and reached his humble abode, he made a quick stop to check his mailbox.

A couple bills, invitation to magazine subscriptions; nothing out of the ordinary. Until he found an envelope that froze him in place. He didn’t have to open it to know its content, but he did so anyways with the hope that it could be another matter.

His heart sank in his chest.

“Ordered to active duty” he read to himself.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anxiety, he slowly walked back into his house. He read the letter once more, praying the words had magically rearranged themselves to prove he’d misunderstood.

Though it hadn’t been his first time during your relationship that he'd been deployed and you both had been expecting it, this deployment  was different.

He hadn’t expected it to be so long. Both you and him were used to short tours. This time, his stay overseas would be longer than that.

All he could think about was you; about having to leave you for all that time. Although he knew that you loved him, he was terrified to think about what the loneliness could do.

There was no comparison between you and his ex. But he couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened between him and his ex; about how she started seeing someone else while Tony was out on his first deployment. Or how she dumped him through a letter while they were miles apart.

You were nothing like her and he tried to remind himself of that. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t afraid of history repeating itself.

Despite the growing apprehension within him, he set the letter – along with the other mail – in a cabinet drawer.

‘Out of sight, out of mind’ he thought to himself.

Going about his day, he tried his best to keep the recent news as far as he could from his mind. In spite of his best efforts, he found himself coming back to that damned letter.

On his way from the grocery store, his car rolled to a stop at a red light. Taking notice of a white sign on the side of the street for a jewelry store, he read the words composed of black letters in his rearview mirror.

Every kiss begins with Kay.

It was a little insane when he thought about it. You’d only been dating for a few months.

It would've been a long time for some people, but in this situation, you had barely spent even half of those months together with Tony's tours.

The little time you did have together was precious.

You'd both already talked about your pasts. Tony even expressed how he felt that he had dived into his relationship with Kristina too early.

Though it wasn't any hint towards you, you felt that a subliminal reasoning was behind his sharing it, albeit unknowingly to Tony.

To him, he was sharing his experience. To you, he subconsciously expressing his preference to take his time with what you two had going on. And you were okay with that, given your own experiences.

Every moment with each other was like an escape from the world around you. Every overseas phone call to him made him forget the ocean of sand that surrounded him. Or the highly testosterone-intoxicated base of soldiers he had to live with.

You were his getaway from all his troubles and you felt the same about him.

Neither of you wanted to ruin it with labels, especially since the time you had spent together was still so little. So, you agreed to roll with the punches and enjoy each other while you could, whatever way you could.

Getting married at this point would definitely be premature. However, he wasn’t simply thinking about wedding bells. It was about showing you his commitment.

Forced out of his trance by the honk of the impatient driver behind him, he made a U-turn and turned into the shopping plaza parking lot.

Tony felt a bit out of his element once he walked through the doors. The jewelry store was white – with bright lights and sleek black details and countertops.

He looked around the engagement rings in the glass display cases. His palms were beginning to sweat. It was a leap of faith, but he needed to show how much you meant to him before he left.

He wasn’t expecting you to run off and get hitched at the nearest chapel. The ring wasn’t only a promise of marriage. It was a reason for him to survive out there. Something to comfort you during his absence and subtly prove to others that you belonged to him.

He finally had someone amazing in his life. The break-up with Kristina was painful. They always were naturally, but the way it had been done was what hurt Tony the most.

Discarded. Thrown away after the thrill of her military-man kink had worn off.

He had nothing against 'war bunnies', as he and his comrades called them. As long as they didn’t get his hopes up of still being there when he came home after months of being away. The uniform may look attractive, but the reality of being a military girlfriend or wife wasn’t for everyone.

He understood it wasn’t for Kristina and he made peace with that. But would it happen again? Could you wait for him?

He stood staring at all the different designs and wondered why there were so many.

He believed he had a pretty good idea of what you’d like. Luckily, his savings were quite full to guarantee you a nice ring. But with so many options, he became more and more confused.

It must have been visible when the sales attendant approached from behind the counter and flashed him a smile.

Tony was thankful she had all the patience in the world. He spoke about you with sparkling eyes and profound admiration. It was obvious to her that he was in love and she was committed to finding the best ring within his budget.

He was quite proud of the ring he’d bought for you. It came with a hefty price, but he didn’t care about it. Now, he had to wait for the perfect opportunity to propose and pray that you’d agree.

Once his ring was successfully purchased, he walked back to the car and climbed inside. He stared at the black velvet box in his hands and opened it to find the diamond shining against the black silk inner lining of the box. He deeply felt like he was doing the right thing.

After a moment, he closed the box and tucked it into his pocket before driving home.

You arrived just after work with a plastic bag of wine and dessert, a small travel suitcase of spare clothes, shoes and other personal items.

“Hey, honey. I’m here,” you smiled using the copy of his key to walk into his house.

“In the kitchen, babe!”

Closing the door behind you, you walked inside and set your suitcase in the hallway by the wall. As you reached the kitchen, you found Tony stirring a pot of sauce with a dish towel hung over his shoulder.

Although you were always elated whenever you saw him, watching him cook was quite a heart-warming show. The attention to detail, the suave confidence in his movements were just a couple of characteristics of the touching dedication to one of his few favorite therapeutic pastimes.

However, he was a bit different today.

You could hear him wincing and cursing under his breath before you even walked into the kitchen.

As you rounded inside, he clumsily burned his arm taking out a tray of baked vegetables from the oven. The chicken he’d been grilling on the stove was starting to burn despite his attempt to be as quick as he can be turn it off.

The lack of the usual confidence he presented in the kitchen was very obvious. Something was off about him.

“Hey, you need a hand?”

“Uh, could you flip the chicken over there while I drain the pasta?”

“Of course,” you nodded as you quickly made your way to the stove.

“Sorry dinner’s a bit late. I tried to make it to be ready before you arrived, but I caught got up in some shit,” he sighed annoyed.

“It’s fine, babe. Really. I had a big lunch anyways, but just the smell here is making my mouth water.”

A failed attempted to cheer him up. He didn’t even crack a smile.

“Got us some wine" you continued. "You want a glass?”

“Yeah, I’d love one. I could use a drink,” Tony agreed. He seemed stressed.

“It’s that good wine that we had with Juan and Maria, remember?”

He loved it so much when you’d tasted it at the last double date you went on a couple days ago. You’d taken a picture of the label to buy a bottle for yourselves. Hopefully, that would’ve cheered him up.

“Yeah, I remember.”

You moved the bag you’d set on the counter and pulled out the dessert to set it in the fridge quietly. Then you walked back to pull out wine bottle from the paper bag. He seemed so bothered that you couldn’t help but ask.

“Should I go home, babe? You wanna be alone tonight?” you asked lowly, looking up at him with worried doe eyes.

He took a deep breath in, realizing how he’d be since you arrived.

“No, babe. No. I’m sorry. I just got a lot on my mind.”

He stopped and turned off everything to stand in front of you, holding your hips to give you the attention you deserved.

“I missed you” he says lowly, resting his forehead against yours.

“I missed you… You wanna talk about what’s bothering ya?”

“Nah, not right now. I wanna enjoy tonight with you.”

He smiled, but you could tell it wasn’t entirely sincere. He didn’t want to talk about it, so you decided to go along .

“Let’s open this up, huh?”

He reached behind you to grab the bottle, redirecting the conversation to change the subject.

“Mind getting some glasses for us, babe?”

“Not at all.”

You grabbed the delicate wine glasses and set them beside Tony as he opened up the bottle.

The food wasn’t as good as he usually made it. The sauce lacked a little salt, the chicken was a bit overcooked and the vegetables were slightly overseasoned.

When he asked you how it was though, you smiled and said it was perfect. The last thing he needed was to worry about that too.

Although he was well aware of how the dish tasted, he smiled at your attempt to cheer him up.

After dinner, you sat on the couch talking about your day as you enjoyed the chocolate dessert you’d picked up. He nodded and hummed in agreement, but it was clear he wasn’t really paying much attention.

His mind just seemed somewhere else.

“Alright. Can we please talk about what’s bothering you?” you confessed with pleading eyes that he couldn't resist.He knew he’d have to say it sooner or later.

It couldn’t have been good because he couldn’t even look at you.

“I got a deployment letter today.”

You frowned. It wasn’t his first deployment since you’d gotten together. You couldn’t understand why it was bothering him so much. So, you waited to let him go on.

“It’s longer this time. 3 months longer… Pay will be good though.”

“O-oh, wow... That's longer than usual, huh?”

Your heart sunk. Now everything made sense. The same dread that filled him seeped into the air and infected you too.

Silence hung over the living room as Tony watched you, fearing the reaction he’d expected.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Next week…”

“Then we’ll make the most of this week.”

He could hear the sadness in your voice despite your best attempt to be strong for him and accepting of the situation.

The thought of being apart for so long was unbearable for the both of you. A lot could happen in that time.

There was a bittersweet cloud that hung over that night.

You held each other on his bed and mindlessly watched TV after dessert. Neither of you were really too focused on the movie. You were too busy remembering each other’s warmth, memorizing heart beats and scents that you’d loved so much.

Tears were quietly shed. You could hear his sniffling and he could feel the wet spot on his chest from your eyes. Neither of you wanted to talk about it. It was inevitable and foreseen, but it still made your heart sink low.

You looked up at him and he quickly rubbed the tears away from his eyes. Your hand reached for his cheek and wiped a missed tear drop away with your thumb.

“Everything is gonna be alright. I promise.”

You reassured him with a kiss.

He didn’t want to ever let you go. He gently rolled you over to place himself over you. He deepened the kiss, using his tongue to ask you for entrance to which you allowed. Your parted legs invited him closer as they clung to his hips.

Feeling the cold metal of his military dog-tags dangling on your chest, you carefully pulled them back over his shoulder to rest against his back. Nothing would come between you, not even the military.

The sex was different that night. Tony was different that night.

The thought of being away from you was driving him wild. He wanted to consume you in the slowest way possible so he could savor every second. Every kiss. Every touch. Every moan.

His kiss was slow and passionate. He relished in the faint winey taste of your mouth. Your hands clung on his broad muscular back, roaming up and down to his ass with a firm squeeze when you pulled his hips down to grind against yours.

The sweet moan that escaped your lips when you felt his hardened cock made it twitch against your dampening panties.

He pulled back, standing on his knees, and gazed down at you. His eyes locked on yours as his large hands slowly crept up under the t-shirt you’d borrowed.

“I love you,” he whispered hooking his fingers into your panties.

“I love you so much,” he repeated as he slid them down your legs and off your feet, one at a time.

He admired the glow of the TV light against your skin as he pushed his boxers off.

“I love you too, Tony.” So much that you could cry right there and then.

The thought of him not coming home tormented you from the back of your mind. He had to make you forget about that possibility. He had to forget it for himself.

His kisses down your neck were soft and gentle, in much contrast to the fireworks exploding within you. He slid the shirt up to expose your breasts to himself. The mere sight of such a vulnerable you made his cock jerk harder.

He took your breasts into his hands and delicately suckled on them. He took his time, kneading them each tenderly as he sucked and twirled his tongue around your hard nipples.

Your hands cradled the back of his fuzzy head. Your back arched into him and your legs spread wider. Your pussy fluttered when his dick grazed your folds.

“God, Tony. I fucking love you so much,” you moaned.

Now that it was finally said, he wanted to hear you say it every single minute to remind himself that your heart was his now.

With butterfly kisses trailing down your belly and all around your mound, you chuckled as he teased you and moved down to kiss your inner thighs.

“Gotta kiss you all over first, sweetheart. So you can feel how much I love ya” he smirked widely.

For such grief-stricken news, he felt happy to hear you laugh again.

You laughed as he lifted your legs to kiss the soles of your feet.

“Tony, that tickles!”

“Sorry, babe. How about here huh?” he smiled placing kisses on each of your ankles.

“Tickles a little still.”

He grinned staring down at you, basking in your loving smile and adorable laugh. He continued his trail down your legs and reached the sides of your knees.

“How about on your sexy knees huh?”

“Sexy knees?” you chortled.

“Every inch of you is sexy to me. Even your toe hair.”

“I do not have toe hair!” you laughed as your cheeks warmed instantly.

“It’s okay, baby. I got hairy feet too,” he joked with a laugh.

“You got hobbit feet.”

You watched as he slowly trailed down the inside of your supple thighs.

“Yeah, and you love them.”

“Damn right I do. Every inch of you.”

“You know what I love?” he asked lying down on his front as he gazed up at you. “This right here.”

He licked a strip up between your pussy lips with the tip of his tongue. You moaned and bit your lower lip, closing your eyes for a moment to relish in the warmth of his mouth.

Your hips rolled forward, welcoming his mouth while Tony slid your legs over his shoulder. Relishing in your taste, his hands moved up your torso.

One of them kneaded your breast and delicately rolled your nipple between his fingertips. The other caressed your beautiful belly, grazing up and down to soothe your growing pleasure.

Tony moaned lowly as his eyes closed. He adored burying his face between your legs. His tongue slithered up and down through your soaked folds. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on your most sensitive area.

“Oh, right there,” you gasped.

The sensation of his rough calloused hands roaming over your body and his mouth working on your pussy had you writhing. You slowly grinded your hips against his mouth, skin hot to the touch.

“Tony, please. I need you,” you pleaded, rubbing his fuzzy head with your open hand.

Tony was as hard as a rock. His cock was throbbing against the mattress, aching to be buried in the sweet cunt he’d just devoured.

You felt like you were floating the clouds.

“I got you, baby.”

Tony slowly moved up and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You moaned as you felt him glide his cock between the plush soaking lips of your pussy.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, he reached for the lube in his nightstand drawer and looked down at his cock to guide it into your entrance. He only held himself there, but he didn’t push in just yet, leaving you to clench around nothing as he rubbed his dick with a bit of lube.

He looked back up at you and pushed in slowly, watching your face react to the delicious stretch of his thick intrusion. The pinching of your eyebrows, your eyes shut and mouth hanging open in an O, your body curving and arching at the pleasure.

You looked so beautiful to him. He wanted to see every detail, every reaction to etch the moment into his memory.

While his hips moved slowly in and out of you, he kissed every spot over the skin on your neck and shoulders. His fingers intertwined with yours as he held a hand above your head under the pillow.

He dragged his cock out leisurely and pushed back in with the same unhurried pace until you were entirely comfortable to the stretch and able to take him deeper and deeper.

His hips gave a thrust to bottom himself out, his balls pressed to your perineum. Your pussy was aching for more friction and force. He knew this well; your growing slickness made it more than evident.

The throbbing of his cock and the squeezing of his hand around yours told you he craved the same.

Leaning down to kiss you, he held his cock deep inside you.

“I love you,” he whispered resting his forehead against yours for a moment.

“I love you too, Tony.”

#anthony swofford #anthony swofford x reader #anthony swofford x you #anthony swofford x y/n #tony swofford #tony swofford x reader #tony swofford x you #tony swofford y/n #jarhead #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fluff #jake gyllenhaal smut

[deblklesb]

[Let's get physical! Pt. 1 — Abby x Reader]

[established relationship, fem!reader, fluffy but gets kinda nsfw by the end, jocker!abby, modern!au, MDNI]

cw: flirty times, nsfw memories, hip trusts

a/n: this was a request sent by @cottagecheese340! thanks for the request, i had the most fun writing this. i plan to post part2 as soon as i can! hope you enjoy it! (ps.: not me projecting on the reader about the social awkwardness)

not proof read (eng is not my first language, if something is wrong y'all can let me know!)

reblogs are highly appreciated!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You almost didn't enter your apartment as your leg keeps pulsating with pain. Not only because of the physical difficulty, but also because you could already imagine your girlfriend's reaction: concern, and then she would help you carefully and spoil you for the rest of the night because you're hurt. 

It didn't sound bad - it didn't feel either -, but you couldn't help but feel embarrassed anyway. Embarrassment got you there, in the first place.

Being a socially awkward person wasn't easy like some people think. Actually, it's hard to find ways to escape social situations just to feel a little more comfortable. Gym was an example of that: you've always had a hard time concealing with that environment because of the amount of people and the state of mind you'd have to get into - which was harder precisely because of the people around. So you didn't know much about gym exercises, despite needing to go there and do them. 

But, hey, it could be easier since your girlfriend is a major gym goer, right? 

Absolut, fuckingly wrong. 

Asking her to help you was a hard time on its own. Abby was the most caring, sweet person with you, but… You're embarrassed. And not that you never announce your needs and wants, but that specific topic was difficult. 

Well, that sore leg would do the work, uh? 

Breathing deeply, you unlocked the door and carefully entered the illuminated apartment, trying your best to walk properly and not limp. 

"Babe?" Her voice came from the kitchen, she was probably making dinner. 

"Hi, love", you tried to sound chill and super not painful. "What are you doing?" 

"Just some pasta and beef, thought we could use a proper dinner since I got out of work earlier today", her tall figure appeared on the hallway, reaching you in a second to kiss you once, twice. A small smile adorned her lips as she looked at you. "How you doing?" 

"I'm fine", you smiled too, kinda using the hug to not lean on the sore leg. "And you?" 

"Better now", her tone was so caring and flirty, it took a chuckle from you. "Were you at the gym?" 

"Ah, I-...", you couldn't deny when wearing the same clothes from earlier, but you looked away and your brain malfunctioned for a second. "Uh- yeah! Guess I could try some gym time, y'know?" 

"Oh, how was it?" Abby parted the hug, grabbing your bag to help you to the room. 

"It was… Interesting", yeah, getting hurt it's very interesting. 

You both started to walk to your shared bedroom, and as much as you tried not to look at her with guilt and walk properly, Abby stopped on her tracks and made your heart skip a beat. Fuck her sharp eyes. 

"Babe, are you okay? Why are you limping?" Her hand rested on your shoulder, warm and careful as she was with you. 

You hissed with pain when learning on the right leg to prove her wrong, ruining all the effort to hide the situation. Then you sighed, finally looking directly at her and supporting yourself on the wall. 

"I kinda may have hurted my leg a little", her eyes widened at that, your bag being left on the table as Abby came closer to help you stand properly. "doing some movement. I think it wasn't exactly well done…"

"Shit, babe, come here", you leaned on her until reaching the couch, where you sat with your back against the arm of the furniture, stretching the leg. "I'll turn off the stove, be right back", she patted your thigh, running to the kitchen. 

The seconds she was away were used for you to sigh again, trying not to feel too anxious. You didn't like to think that you were disturbing or something, even though you knew that was a crazy idea - the intrusive thoughts were troublesome sometimes. 

"Now tell me how this happened", she held an ointment whilst sitting with your leg on her lap. 

Abby didn't seem annoyed or anything, obviously. She just started to spread the mint-smell substance on the place you pointed when she asked. 

"I was… trying to work my leg on one of those machines and then it started to hurt, I don't know exactly where I messed up." Your breath were a little bit short with nervousness. 

"It's okay, it's normal. Especially since you aren't accustomed to gym props", her voice was so calm while the strong hands massaged the sore muscle. "Why didn't you ask me to help you?" 

"Because I was kinda embarrassed", you revealed after some seconds, face blushing a little since you still had a hard time opening up. Well, if someone were there to support you and listen to you without judgment, that would be your girlfriend, right? Her and your closest friends were those people. "I don't like going to the gym, but I need to. And it's frustrating enough, I didn't want to feel like I was asking too much, or something, especially because… I have absolutely no idea of what I'm doing and it's even more embarrassing" 

"Okay", Abby nodded carefully, locking eyes with you while her hands kept working. She remained calm, not wanting to alarm you in any way. "Well, I want you to know you wouldn't be asking too much. And that I will tell you if I can't help you with something, but I'll be here supporting you regardless and I'll do my best. Alright?" 

The feeling of her palms on your leg were starting to relax you, as you nodded and breathed deeply for once.  

"And look, I'm a grown woman. I think I can handle helping you and establishing my limits. What do you think?" She smiled to reassure you. 

"I think you're right, grown woman", you both chuckled as she finished the massage. You held a hand of hers and kissed the back of it, caressing her skin as you rested the head on the furniture then. Your heart was calming itself gradually. "Thank you. I love you"

"Love you too, kitty cat." The nickname made you laugh. She started to call you that way after finding a picture of you dressed as a human-size cat for your cousin's birthday. The costume had orange fur and your face was painted and all. You felt funny but your cousin loved it. 

"Will you ever let go of this?"

"Never", the honey-blonde stood up and rested your leg on the couch again, kissing you on the lips briefly, her braid falling to the side when she leaned over. "Now let me finish the dinner. We'll eat and then go bath"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week later you both decided to go to the gym together. Abby said that it would be empty on earlier hours, and so you got out of bed with difficulty due to the diminished sleeping time. 

It started to be a routine: three times a week Abby helped you choose the machines to work on and then she'd indicate the right way to use it. The woman would supervise and then go to work on her own series, still watching you carefully from where she stood. 

You had to admit, with that silence around and just the two of you there, the environment didn't seem that bad. The rays of sunshine would start to enter the place more brightly, as the morning advanced. Only you, Abby and the receptionist were at that entire gym.  

But, on top of that, there was another thing that kept you coming to the gym all those days. 

The vision of Abby concentrated, pulling weights in different positions and machines, made you quiver. And even more: her care and delicacy while teaching you the movements and explaining the machines… That was something else. 

You were a major simp for your girlfriend talking about stuff she liked and was dedicated to, but it didn't help how she looked and behaved inside the gym. Knowing how your body comfort was in her hands created a responsibility, a commitment to lay all the information necessary in the most clear way. 

First, she'd show you the machine in general. Explain how it worked and the purpose, show you the gadgets, all of that constantly looking back at you to be sure of your understanding. Then, Abby would have you positioned on the machine and would instruct how to work on it, slowly and attentive to your posture. 

"Your back needs to be straight, babe. Yes, just like that"

After her blue eyes crossed over your body to catch in every detail she could, while you did a series, Abby would smile and say "that's it, you're ready to go, pretty girl"

And you didn't wanna say how absolutely sexy that was. 

How you needed extra effort to concentrate on her words, because the overall situation threw you off so easily. How her gestures and indications with her hands made you hold back enamored sighs. Or how her light touches on your body, to guide you through the first few movements, or just get your attention to the correct position, created little heat spaces on your skin. 

That whole situation unlocked a new amazing thing to notice about your girlfriend, and you felt like a blessing fell into you. The sore muscle was worth it. 

"Understood?" Her voice called you back from a daydream. 

Putting to the side the thoughts that came from her so eloquent speech, you nodded and thanked Abby, before the woman went to carry some weights. 

Looking from afar, you tried to concentrate on your series, working your legs. The image of Abby pushing up with the arms on her sides, going up and down next to her head, biceps flexing and abdomen and chest moving with breath. Skin getting flushed red and sweaty with effort. 

You tried so hard not to notice too much, not to make your sights explicit, but then the minutes passed and Abby finished her series. And the blue eyes rested on you, a fact you took longer to understand than you were proud of. 

Looking away and finishing your own series, you tried not to blush under her attention and cleared your throat, grabbing the bottle of water. Your legs hurt a bit, heavy muscles. 

"Okay, what now?" You asked, resting a hand on the hip. 

"Now rest a little", the blonde suggested with a smirk while using the shirt to dry her sweaty face, your heart skipped a beat or two at the vision of her abs. Damn her for still getting you on your feelings. "Wanna help me out?" 

"M'kay. Let's see what you got", she chuckled, going to a horizontal bench now. 

You put the bottle to the side, and when you looked at her again she was seated on the floor. 

"What you want me to do?" Abby looked up when you stood next to her, propping herself with her back against the bench, hips out of the ground and legs separated. 

"Sit on me"

You blinked once and twice, gulping. Phrasing like that you might as well do it anyways. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Sit on my hip, babe. Rest your feet on my thighs", she kept instructing you, but your mind wasn't really caring about the indications. The implications were on stake here, as you straddled as she told and felt your face getting hotter. "You can put your hands on my shoulders to balance", and you did so, her warm hands holding yours carefully. "Ready?" 

Before you could nod, Abby lowered her hips and then trusted up.

You couldn't remember a time when you got that flustered around her, trying not to think about what that looked like, what would happen if someone got in the room, how fucking hot was the fact that your girlfriend could sustain your weight on her hips. Without permission, your cunt throbbed. 

For sure you had an unbelieved expression, staring at Abby's face in order to avoid the sight of where your bodies met lower.

"Keep still, okay? You're doing good", you couldn't talk. Any words were thrown away from your mind right now, at least the adequate ones.

She kept doing that and you kept trying not to pathetically moan over that situation alone. 

Her body was so firm and hot. 

What the fuck was happening? 

Abby rested, sitting on the floor for some seconds with you still on her lap, hands gripping her shoulders. "That was awesome", her voice was excited but also with a hint of something else as she tenderly touched your hips and continued. "We should try it more frequently" 

"Yeah", your voice cracked, demanding you to clear your throat. "Absolutely" 

And then the silence was too loud and consuming, just the two of you there in that position. 

Her features caught your attention; blue eyes and freckled skin, beautiful lips and nose, cheeks and chin you loved to kiss. All of her seemed to call for you. 

"Babe", her voice, the velvety tone that could take you to the stars, drew you back again. "Ready for another one?" 

"Go for it", you smiled with effort to not fall into more fantasies right now, in a public space. "Let's see how much you can take it"

Abby's smug sent chills through your spine as she adjusted and then trusted the hips again, eyes locked on your with the most consuming determination. You held back a whine, breathing deeply with her. 

"Fuck…", you whispered at another trust, moisturing your lips. 

"What, babe?"

And just like that you mind flew to that time when she fucked you with her strap. When you cried her name and let out incomprehensible words under your moans, having Abby asking "what, babe? I didn't catch that" as the silicone object were pushed and pulled into your wet cunt. You remembered her panting and smirking as your tits bounced in front of her, as you tried to move your hips along because you were getting more and more heated. 

"Abby…", your hips moved once without you noticing and then you froze, the foggy memory fading as she trusted again and you recalled where you both were. 

"Yes?" A shit-eating grin denounced all. She knew exactly what she was doing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[divider by @froopis]

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou x reader #abigail anderson x reader #abigail anderson #abby tlou2 #abby tlou #deblklesb #abby x reader fic #ficblr #fic writing #abby fic #abby fanfiction #abby anderson fan fiction #requests

[books]

Writing Workshop Week 3: Stories of a Place

Hello again, my very talented writers of tumblr! I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed reading your work. I’ve seen such stellar craft happening, and I’m eager to see where you’ll take this next prompt.

In week 1, we focused on a single object. In week 2, we attended to the objects in our environment. This week, we’re considering the environment as a whole—setting.

One of the reasons I’ve chosen this order specifically, small to large, is because setting can become overwhelming. But last week we already practiced it in our real environments by observing our surroundings, and putting those details into our work. Setting is not as huge and amorphous as it may seem—when it comes down to it, setting is the interaction between character and place. Notice I didn’t say that setting is the place itself, and that’s because a place is meaningless without grounding it in the personal stakes of a character. It’s like walking around a grocery store and not putting anything in your cart. A setting only exists to hold its contents. 

Setting can refer to the largest and smallest of places: universe, galaxy, planet, continent, country, city, home, bedroom, pillow fort. Setting can also refer to time: millennium, century, decade, year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second. 

In writing, not all of these things have to be defined, nor should they. The difficulty in setting is the negotiation between our lived reality—in which we have all of this information at all times—and the restrictive nature of writing, in which we not only control all these variables, but we also have to organize and convey them. In reality, events can occur simultaneously. You can drop a plate at the same time you get a text message. But in writing, even if those things happen at the same time in the lived reality of your character, you have to convey the plate dropping and then the phone vibrating in consecutive sentences, linked usually by the word “simultaneously.” Your reader then retroactively crafts those moments happening at once in their memory, but there is a brief moment between those two details where the reader knows the plate has dropped but not that the phone will vibrate. Just as a film is restricted to the width of a camera’s lens, writing is restricted to the sentence. As immersive as writing can be, it is still always a constructed thing.

When it comes to setting, you not only have control over all these details, you also have to figure out the order of information those details are conveyed. Which brings me to…

Decision Fatigue

One of the reasons people think fanfiction is “easier” than original fiction is because there are fewer decisions to make. You have an established universe to play in and so you don’t have to pull up a name generator to figure out the name of your protagonist, or however you make those choices. But that’s not true—fanfiction requires a different type of decision-making and therefore a different (but equally difficult) skill set of creative thinking. The analogy I like to use is a playground versus a beach. On a playground, the equipment is already there, but you can use it however you want. On a beach, you have to decide what to bring with you. One is not inherently better than the other. It’s all play. 

I say this because I’ve coached a lot of writers who are transitioning from fanfiction to original fiction. It can be jarring to go from the playground to a beach. And so I see a lot of writers succumb to decision fatigue—the exhaustion of creativity. You have to decide what kind of car your character drives, how old they are, where they live, what they do for a living, their relationships, the conflicts of those relationships, their educational background, and so on. Creativity is making decisions. And that’s why it’s hard.

Relevance

I would argue that setting is the most difficult series of decisions to make. Our entry into a new piece is generally a character, a premise, or an image. Or, as we say on Tumblr, we put a guy in situations. That guy’s environment will affect him and his situations, because that environment will either help or hinder him in some way. A meet-cute, for example, is nearly always related to setting.

I remember doing my first generative workshop on setting. It sent me into a spiral I couldn’t climb out of for four years. The spiral was this:

All narratives, even narrative poems (as opposed to lyrical), exist in a time and place, and the author has control of those factors. The more specific those details are, the stronger the story becomes. The specificity of those details is rendered in imagery. Ergo, I have to develop my imagery.

And now I’m going to tell you the result of that line of thinking so you don’t fall into the same trap: I wrote a totally unpublishable novel. It was too long and not very interesting, and both of those things happened because I was more dedicated to developing my setting than my story. 

Although that was great practice, it kind of sucked to spend an entire year working on something only to put it in a drawer and never look at it again. What pulled me out of the spiral was dedicating myself to narration—I decided I was only obligated to describe that which my narrator observed. And because I didn’t want to bother with setting anymore, I made a character who was totally oblivious.

(We’ll be looking at narration next week.)

I began to view the setting through a character rather than around a character. My narrator was narrow-focused and obsessive, so I was only obligated to write that which came into the one-lane bridge of her attention. In other words, I only wrote what was relevant to her. And the only thing that was relevant to her was the object of her fixation. 

The big caveat here is that a story isn’t always obligated to its narrator. That’s a choice I’ve made for my own work, because I’m interested in narrators and the development of voice. My prose will never be beautiful or floral. I’ll never have the patience to lovingly describe what it’s like to live in Ohio. I’ll probably only ever write a character who has driven past the HELL IS REAL sign a dozen times and who maybe has strong opinions on corn. It’s the best way I can find to help me avoid the decision fatigue of building an entire world. 

Prompt time!

For this week’s activity, I’d like you to think of a place you really love. This can be your home town or the house where you grew up or wherever has brought you joy. (Remember: love inspires.) 

Next, I’d like you to write 3 facts of public information and 3 facts of private information about that place. 

Public information is anything that can be found, either by researching the place or visiting it. This could be factual—population, square footage, location. It could also involve community knowledge, like legends, cultures, or customs. It can also include major historical events. If you were to show this place to a total stranger, what would you tell them about it? This part may require some research. 

Private information is what can’t be known by anyone but you (and maybe the people who were there with you). This includes memories you have of the place, secrets, unknown histories; anything that can’t be understood unless you have intimate knowledge of the place or lived there during a particular moment. 

For example, when I taught in the South, I had a lot of students who had lived through Hurricane Katrina. They were all young children at the time. When I had them do this activity, many of them chose to list facts that anyone could find about New Orleans in August of 2005—that there were over 1300 casualties, that Katrina was a Category 5 hurricane. They also shared things that no one else could know, about their families housing total strangers whose homes were destroyed, about living for days or even weeks without electricity. About why their parents chose to stay rather than leave, or leave rather than stay. About loved ones who had died.

Once you have your 6 things, I’d like you to write a piece based on them. Here are some ways you can approach it:

If you want to write nonfiction, tell the story of one of your private pieces of information.

If you want to write fiction, write a story using at least one of the public pieces of information. For example, you can tell the story of a legend, or make a legend up. Or you could do something similar to what we did last week, where you take those three pieces of information and weave them in.

If you want to write a poem, try to capture the sense of place by using one or more pieces of information, either private or public.

If you want to write something experimental, write a story about a piece of private information from the perspective of the place itself. 

You don’t have to share your 6 things (unless you want to). While you’re writing, note the details that emerge naturally while drafting, what becomes relevant to the story versus what doesn’t. Like our previous prompts, allow yourself to lean into associative thinking and make connections with your memories.

Questions? Ask ‘em here before EOD Tuesday so @bettsfic can answer them on Wednesday. And remember to tag your work #tumblr writing workshop with betts if you want her to read your work and possibly feature it on Friday!

And, for those just joining us: @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

#tumblr writing workshop with betts #week 3: stories of a place #writers' room #writeblr #writing setting #writers on tumblr #writing advice #long post #long text post

[bardic-inspo]

Midnight Chimes

Chapter One: You Look Different in the Daylight

Pairing: Astarion x Cursed! Tav

✨Full Chapter List ✨BG3 Fic Masterlist ✨

Series Summary:

It’s easier for Astarion to believe Naomi tastes so sweet because she was his first. Easier to ignore the fact that every undead in vague proximity yearns for the same blood that’s sated him night after night. Easier to pretend her music is arcane as any other bard’s, and not divine enough to wake corpses from the dirt. Easier to pretend Naomi is simply a bard, and not something more akin to a siren. One that's slowly realized she's not just another sailor, after all. Easier to bury the fact that he's already stupidly in love with her. Like she wouldn't just raise that out of the ground, too. A curse rears its head. A devil comes calling. Astarion fights for his freedom from Cazador. He and the rest of their merry little band fight to save Tav from the doom she feels she's fated for.

Chapter CW: None

A/N: First couple chapters have some time jumps, and then the story falls into a linear progression. (This is a cross-post from my prior (now defunct) sideblog and AO3 account). Dividers by @cafekitsune.

✨ Click here if you prefer to read on AO3 ✨

“Don’t often see your sort on this side of the street.”

The innkeep’s talking about drow. Like the twins. The Flophouse’s most recent newcomer is Seldarine, just like them. Pretty as the pair of them, too. All twilight skin, some pale shade between blue and violet, and moonlight hair that would glow silver with it if he could get her back outside. Astarion could tell her that while he twirled one finger in the strands and wrapped her dwindling life around another.

Darling, you make the stars so pitifully dim. It’s futile, the way they’re shining now. Not like you.

But she’d have to shed some layers to fit in at Mamzell Amira’s establishment. The drow’s armor is light and leather. At least it’s fitted enough to get a figure for her figure.

Astarion catches the flinty edge of her glare as she turns her cheek, ever so slightly, his way. Sharp as a knife. His stage smile echoes back with an edge just as keen. She might be new in town, but she gets the innkeep’s meaning well enough not to like it.

Must’ve been the tip of a blade that cut that scar curling from her cheek across the bridge of her nose. It’s hairline thin, but it interrupts the freckles powdering her face. No one’s paying her to hang over them like drapery at Sharess’ Caress. Not with that trace imperfection.

Astarion could do it. Pay her enough attention to get her loose, dangling, vulnerable. Play the role of the valiant hero. Spring forth to defend her honor. Show her about town, like a gentleman should. It’s a gambit he’s run more times then he can count.

It would go something like this: sweet words about city secrets she hasn’t seen to lure her back into the starlit streets. A pretty view, perhaps of the Chionthar glimmering, to get her eyes wide. A promise of a better one, somewhere secluded. A heated whisper to get her blushing. His breath on her skin, to start a shiver. Promises, promises tumbling out of his pretty mouth. His name, falling out of hers.

And it would end in blood, like it always does. What a night she’d have. Her first in Baldur’s Gate. Her last alive.

Her life flashes before Astarion’s eyes in a glint of golden light. Sudden, vivid, then all at once gone. Someone else spots his prey and takes a swipe before he can.

The prey, it turns out, bites back.

“Argh -- get your hands off me!”

The garbled cry of indignation doesn’t come from the drow. Her grip latches to the arm of the would-be thief and wrenches it around, forcing his hand to open. Her coin falls back, neatly, into her own waiting palm.

She tosses away her hold on her assailant in the same manner as pitching trash. The thief -- a rather burly half-elf -- cowers, cradling his throbbing hand. A hiss leaks out of him, sending a shiver down Astarion’s spine. The noise is too familiar. Too much like vampiric skin simmering in sunlight.

Astarion grimaces, a twist of pity sinking in his gut. Not for the thief, and not for her, either. For their star-crossed evening, or the fleeting notion of it, stolen away by someone else’s sticky fingers fishing into her back pocket. For a measly pair of coins, she’d bought her own life back. With a twist of a wrist, she wrenched her fate from Astarion’s nimble hands.

It’s for the best, really. Thanks to the thief, Astarion knows better. She’s too clever. Too quick. Too cunning. Violet eyes cut across the room to his watchful ones. Maybe she’d have seen through his schemes, too, and made good on the promise in that look of hers. Like she could spear him straight to the paneling behind his head, same as the curled fliers nailed near the door.

But alas, now he has to do horrible things to someone else.

Astarion’s stomach turns as he sets his sights to the Flophouse door. Finding what he needs on the other side of the street, yet again, sounds like the opposite of fun. Someone drunk, naive, unsuspecting. He thought the drow checked those last two boxes. Astarion’s eyes drift to the thieving half-elf, now stooped and sulking in a seat as far from the drow as the room allows.

Someone has to pay. It won’t be Astarion, under Godey’s biting blades. Not again. Not tonight. He’ll take his chances with whatever happens while he’s under someone, anyone else.

Astarion’s fingernails drag into the woodgrain of the table before he shoves from his seat. He lets his chair scrape back loud enough to scrape the thief’s eyes off the floor. By the time Astarion’s sauntered over to the vacant chair at the half-elf’s table, the other man’s eyes have oozed, messy and lustful, all over Astarion’s best assets. Most of them, anyway.

With one click of his tongue, like the tug of a leash, the stranger’s wide, blue eyes snap to Astarion’s. Good boy.

“Tough break,” Astarion nearly purrs, letting the words roll slowly off his tongue, letting his hips drop slower into the seat. “Not as tough as you, I’d wager.”

The other man scoffs, as if without a care. But he wets his lips before speaking, like he needs to test them first. “Shouldn’t be,” he says gruffly. “Should be, if someone’s lived their whole life somewhere, they shouldn’t have to settle for scraps while all these foreigners come rolling in.”

“You’re so right,” Astarion croons, leaning in to prop his chin with his hand. “And you should say it.”

And he does. In excess. Punctuated with chest-puffing, peppered in curse words and vaguely political bleating. Almost like he’s practiced this little diatribe as much as Astarion’s recited his best hooks. His mark seems pent-up, at least, in one sense. Before Astarion can allude to another, his ear catches on the more civilized conversation happening over at the counter.

“I’ll need a name, then,” the innkeep -- a surly dwarf -- prompts.

The drow swallows. “Tav…riel.”

It’s nearly two words, with the amount of hesitation in between. The innkeep asks again.

“Tavriel?” He mutters. She nods. He eyes her warily, scribbling the name down into his book. “You some sort of bard or something?”

“Sure." If you want me to be, the careful lilt of her voice says.

“Never heard a flute I was fond of,” the innkeep prattles irritably. The offending instrument is strapped near the drow’s waist. “Too pitchy.”

“Sounds like you’ve never met someone who knew what to do with it.”

Astarion perks a brow. It’s near enough to one of his usual lines that he stores it away in the back of his brain for later. It needs refinement. Not his fav-

“It’s not my favorite, either, but it’s easier to travel with,” Tavriel says.

“You any good with it? Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

“Mm, you probably wouldn’t have,” Tavriel says, unperturbed. A clever sort of smile creeps onto her lips. “I’m a killer with a fiddle. Not sure anyone’s lived to tell the tale.”

Well, what a tease. Astarion’s never heard of a bard that didn’t very desperately want to be heard of. What else would she be, could she be, if not a bard? Maybe a rake, if her claws weren’t so cutting. Teeth are far better for that sort of delicate work.

She swipes the brass key from the counter. Astarion watches until her boots disappear up the stairs and she’s gone. His mark never notices Astarion’s attention was anywhere else. Suppressing a tired sigh, Astarion slips back into his shtick like a sword in a sheath.

Time to get to it, before the darkness runs out.

“Oh, yes, darling. Fuck those foreigners. But…wouldn't you rather with a real Baldurian?”

Astarion’s stomach swoops, harder than it bucked on the fall from the nautiloid. It doesn’t matter how hard he runs for the trees, for the sparse and insufficient shade they might cast. Doesn’t matter that his legs pump as fast as his exquisite body allows. He should be burning by now. Should be dead, at least twice over.

If he had a heartbeat, it’d be hammering in his throat. He feels the pressure all the same. Every swallow comes as a choke, even as he staggers to a stop in the meager shadows.

Astarion’s eyes dart towards that scorching orb hanging, searing, and ominous overhead. The light glints back like a damn guillotine. Any moment now, the drop will come. This farce will end. This figment of freedom, the barest wisp of it, will evaporate. Ashes will be all that’s left in the wake of two centuries of pure, utter, shit.

Ashes do fall. They drift in fat flakes from the sky, coating the beach in soot. The acrid tang cloys with the spray of saltwater in the air. But his body’s still whole enough to tremble. Astarion turns his palms over in silent awe, watching his own skin alight. The flames don’t come. Only…

Warmth. Dainty as a first kiss. Across his throat, flooding his cheeks, his chest, his every inch. A smile as faint as a ghost dares to grace Astarion’s lips.

He hears his own shaky, unbidden laugh like it’s that of a stranger. It came from someone else’s body, surely. This is someone else’s body. His would’ve been in cinders, barring some very, very belated divine intervention.

Or, apparently, an illithid invasion. The up close and personal kind.

Astarion rips his gaze away as it begins to water. Scorch marks stain his sight for a full minute after. Inkblots of bright, burning color. It’s as he’s blinking rapidly that he sees her, picking her way up the slope, past the wreckage.

Astarion’s seen her before. He’s sure of it, now that she’s nearer. Now that he can see her in the full, unadulterated light of the sun. (The sun. The sun. The fucking sun!)

Outside of the nautiloid’s bloody glow, her hair’s white as frost. Her complexion’s less rosy, more violet. Out here, she could be a normal drow.

He tenses, picking up the faint prickling of voices in the distance. She’s not alone. Astarion doesn’t recognize the other woman, a half-elf with a black, chained braid dangling down her back like a whip.

But he remembers the drow. She was on board that blasted ship. She knows about the damn worm lodged behind his eye socket. Maybe they both do. His fist clenches on the hilt of his blade, still tucked in its sheath.

As Astarion watches from afar, magic wakes in half-elf’s palm, vivid and blinding. It sears into the bare cerebrum of some crawling creature snapping at the drow’s heels. The creature utters a shrill screech before it slumps over, steaming. His eyes narrow. Seems the pair of them are chummy, at very least, if not co-conspirators. He creeps back further into the brush.

Both of them will pay. They’ll have to. At least half as much as Cazador will make Astarion pay for this…this…impossible escapade.

It can’t last. Astarion’s brow knits in with the stiffness in his jaw. Certain doom surrounds him like the sheer sides of a cliff. One one hand lies the inevitable, excruciating plummet into ceremorphosis. Astarion’s skin crawls with the thought. The final destruction of his body. The devouring of his mind. Someone, something else, stealing his entire self and reshaping him into a tentacled puppet.

On the other hand, Cazador would never settle for being outdone by some squid-faced freak. He’ll get creative for this. More than he ever has before. Astarion’s teeth grate against each other.

This can’t last. Oh, but it has to.

Another glow of magic, dimmer this time, catches his eye. It blinks and fades from the drow’s gloved fingers like a firefly. But it has the same radiance as the earlier spell. The same radiance as the delightful glow seeping over his skin. Though, thankfully, the sunshine has proven far less lethal. A dead trail of intellect devourers lies in their wake.

They’re clerics, then, he thinks with a swell of distaste. Fools, but capable ones. Though, the drow is perhaps less of the latter. Still, she’s hardly a victim. The both of them could very well be villains, emerging from the smoking wreckage of their mothership. They’ve come close enough, he can hear the sand crunch beneath their footsteps. Hear their heartbeats, still quickened from their fight, pumping the blood of thinking creatures through their veins.

Astarion sucks in a steadying breath. Not because he needs it to live. Because he needs to perform.

“Help! Help, I need some help!” He bellows.

Their pace hastens to a jog up the hill. In a matter of moments, their wary eyes latch to his plaintive, pleading ones.

“Hurry!” He gasps, panting for good measure. “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered! There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

The stronger-looking one -- the half-elf -- hangs back. She might be the smarter one, too. The drow isn’t so bothered by brains or caution. She comes within an arm's length, eyes wide and doey. She scans the brush for danger like she isn’t the prey, one hand wrapping the hilt of her rapier.

“There,” he says, slipping into step behind the drow as her feet tamp down the brittle grass. “Can you see it?”

She doesn’t see the knife drawn in a flash. Not until her back hits the dirt, and the blade bites against the pretty flesh of her throat. Astarion tumbles down with her, keeping a vice-grip on the dagger. Her pulse practically leaps against the knife, smacking in a wet, sumptuous rhythm. The back of his throat burns, raw, ragged. Thirsty.

The urge rips through him, sudden and staggering. Astarion bites back a breath, just to bite something. The drow shifts beneath his blade, grunting in indignation.

“Shh, shh shh. Not a sound,” he hisses, soft as velvet. “Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours. And you,” he growls, louder for their little audience. “Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

The half-elf isn’t half-convinced. “I need her alive,” she snaps, light flaring at her fingertips as she dares a step closer. “Stow that blade, or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.”

But one step is all she dares. Astarion’s eyes narrow wickedly. His captive has value. Good to know. “Promises, promises. But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

His gaze hardens on the drow, who’s gone so sweetly still for him. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

Wordlessly, she complies. Good girl.

“Splendid. And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me!”

Her eyes flash, defiant. “We were prisoners, too!”

Astarion’s lips curl with a snarl. “Don’t lie to me -- AH!”

His own memories burst like blisters in his mind’s eye. Dark streets and darker alleys with darker endings. Unlucky souls, lured away, alone, to their fates. Except he isn’t alone. Astarion doesn’t know how, but he’s certain. She’s in his fucking head.

The connection snaps and shatters as sudden as it came. Astarion recoils, reeling as the remnants sting between his temples. “What was that? What’s going on?!”

“Stalker,” his captive spits scornfully.

“I--what?”

“You were in Baldur’s Gate,” the drow huffs. “Fraygo’s Flophouse.”

Gods, you’ll have to be more specific, he nearly sighs. But the slice of violet eyes cuts him short. Astarion’s brow pinches in thought.

“You sat there and stared at me while I was nearly robbed. Not so helpful then. Kind of acting like the opposite right about now.”

It’s ringing bells, but she doesn’t have her flute. She didn’t have that silver symbol, hanging around her neck, back in the Gate. She said she was a bard back then, and she looked like far less of a cleric when she said it.

And Astarion hadn’t noticed the tattoo curving with her left cheekbone. Little birds in flight. He wonders, fleetingly, what on earth could have possessed her to mark her own pretty little face with such a thing.

“AH-- urgh!”

Her hand grips his wrist and twists harsh enough for his vision to flood with white. His eyes burn. By the time he blinks to clear them, his own knife pokes the hollow of his throat.

Cute trick. The same fate her would-be thief suffered, he remembers ruefully. Before Astarion suffered the thief, and the thief suffered what Astarion baited him for.

She scrambles backwards, gaining as much distance as she grants him. They stagger to stand, dust caking his doublet, and dirt streaking her leathers.

“We’ve been wormed, too,” she says, stance softening. “The tadpoles can connect our thoughts. We’re trying to get rid of them. If you’re done trying to stab me, we might let you tag along for the ride.”

“We will?” Her companion mutters skeptically.

You will? Astarion wonders, equally mystified.

She turns his knife once, twice, thrice between her fingers, like she’s playing a parlor game. When the spinning stops, the blade end rests in her gloved palm.

“I’m Naomi,” she says, offering him the hilt of his own dagger like it’s a handshake. Tentatively, Astarion takes it.

“Tavriel,” he mutters faintly, the name swimming out of the depths of all the others to the forefront of his memory.

She shrugs. “If you’d prefer to stay on a surname basis. ‘Tav’ is fine, too.”

Impossible starlight seeps between the thinning veil of clouds above. Silvered blades of grass glint like so many knives under a shimmer centuries in the making.

Astarion lays beneath the clearing sky, his back cushioned by damp, flattened grass. Warmth radiates across his chest, where another impossibility rests her cheek. His free hand strokes idly, thoughtlessly, through her ivory hair. The motion comes easier than breathing ever could’ve.

This -- the two of them, tangled here -- is centuries in the making, too.

They lay fully clothed and content. His other hand wraps Naomi’s waist, tucking the heat of her against his skin like a blanket. Cuddling, of all things. Something in him still balks at the notion. Yet, here he is, yet again.

It’s something they get to do, now, when he wants to. There’s yet to be a night he hasn’t, in the weeks since he stammered out his confession and Naomi laid her hand in his.

He wanted something else to be real between them, too, tonight, when he discovered his favorite drow had wandered away from their merry band of misfits. He found her doused in the starlight she looks so good in, sat on some rock between the gnarled trees, ever oblivious to the small war she started between Astarion’s mind and body.

If there were more life in the trees, it might’ve been reminiscent of another night spent together, after the tieflings’ celebration simmered down into quiet, sleepy cinders. If it were a night like that, he’d have his hands on the small of her back, where she arched it in a stretch. He’d have the rest of her lilac skin soaking Selune’s evening shine, not just the lovely length of her neck above her collar, and that succulent slice peering from between her breasts. He’d have her pliant. He’d have her gasping.

And he’d be free. Of his trousers, at the very least. A flare of yearning ached so earnestly beneath his ribs. Memory and loathing speared it down, sharp, only moments later.

The sound of frantic scrubbing put that battle to bed, for now, and sparked a new one. She was at it again. After Shadowheart already tried to put an end to it in the camp. So that’s why she snuck away.

Astarion cleared his throat pointedly, eyes drifting to the black stains of spellwork scrawled over Naomi’s arms. The marks didn’t let up. Neither did she, until Astarion stayed her hand, and took it in his.

“Really, darling,” he chided. “At that rate, you’ll rub yourself bloody.”

He expected an eyeroll, at least, if not a snicker. But her throat merely bobbed. “They haven’t faded since our fight at the portal.”

“Oh, that was only, what? A few days ago?”

It’s normal, Gale told her. And Shadowheart, too. Well…some of it is. In a paraphrased sense.

“It’s never hung around this long before,” she said, frowning. “I’m not even sure what spell it’s from. There were so many of them, and they all rushed me at once--”

“They were trying to close the door on Halsin and Thaniel,” Astarion said, matter-of-factly. “And we stopped them like the good little heroes we are.”

Sure, their less-than-living foes seemed to aim in one particular direction, at one particular target, during the whole hold-the-gate ordeal. But they barely clipped her barely half the time. Naomi’s fleet-footed in a fight. And what she couldn’t dodge, she fluted away with that cute little ditty that steers their enemies’ arrows elsewhere. The purpling bruise at her shoulder is an exception. Her cutting words were keener than whatever wounded her.

Besides, none of them came away from the past few days without the marks to show it. But those who survived Ketheric Thorm’s final, bony bout are in far better shape than the general’s dusty remnants. Even after they had to jump down that gods-forsaken pit into rancid hell just to kill him for good. The thought alone stirs a shiver down Astarion’s spine, still.

“Now,” he said, steering her by the shoulder, “come keep your frigid lover warm and look at the good you’ve done.”

So, they set aside the notions either of them had in mind, and settled instead for…this. A piece of peace, resting among the patchy tufts of grass grown over a rooftop in what used to be Reithwin. Naomi stares up at their handiwork. The scatter of stars isn’t so different from the freckles dusted over her nose, nearly hiding the thin scar that angles over the bridge of it.

A muted glow leaks over the so-called shadow-cursed lands from the crescent cut of the moon hanging overhead. The first, hard-won taste of what this place could be now that it’s free from its curse. It’ll be different in the daylight, just like Astarion was when he stumbled into it after two hundred years apart. But they’ll be on the road again before they see it glaze over this place.

On the path, at last, to Baldur’s Gate. And to Cazador. To vengeance, absolution, ascension, and all sorts of fairytale words that were once greater than Astarion’s imagination. Now, they’re bloody nightmares in his own arsenal, two hundred years of them, on the cusp of release. Now, they’re promises. Dreams with teeth.

It brings to mind the first burst of blood on his tongue, from that soft neck that nuzzles so near him, now. With that first taste came color, life, and heat where there was only frailty and feebleness before. What fresh sweetness will Cazador’s blood bring, painting Astarion’s hands, pooling like a cloak at his feet?

A whole new world of it, he’s sure. One that’s his to claim. His to share and shape as he sees fit.

Astarion breathes in, not because he needs to, but because he wants the trace scent of lavender in his nose as Naomi’s hair tickles the tip of it. Her heartbeat flutters down from her earlier anxiousness, pattering into a steady rhythm. He feels its mark against his ribs and thinks, for the first time, he understands what might possess lunatics like her to get tattoos on purpose.

That little rhythm should settle there, at his side. Always. Like the little music boxes she’s so fond of. She didn’t take the one she found in Moonrise Towers, so Astarion did. It’s been by her bedside ever since. He sees the little glimmer of it, every night he slinks into her tent.

A gentle, but insistent tug pulls at the corner of his thoughts. He peers down at his present company with an arched brow. Her eyes are peacefully shut, but the mischievous smile gives her away.

Hesitantly, Astarion lets his head roll back to the earth, and his eyes slide shut, too. All right, love. What is it you want to show me?

The tadpole connection hums, all at once familiar and foreign. Listen, she says back, with the same smile in her thoughts as on her lips. He lets the connection pull him through and stifles a soft sound of awe in the back of his throat.

Quiet. Blessed, blissful quiet. Like none she’s ever known.

Naomi’s ear rests over his heart, but it doesn’t beat for her. Not literally, at least. He’d still heavily negotiate any figurative sense of the matter. But it doesn’t matter that it isn’t beating. It’s not what she wants. Not what she…needs.

He feels the ache of it, as she lifts her cheek, briefly, and music flits, frenetic, though her mind. Spells and stanzas and half-remembered rhymes in mangled cacophony. She lays her head back down, and lets out a long breath. Astarion echoes the sound, unbidden, as the connection withdraws, and he’s left with the pluck of her heartbeat in his head again.

It’s never quiet. Not in her head. But it can be. With him. If he hadn’t prayed so hard to them already, he’d swear the gods gifted him this woman. Astarion knows better. The illithids did.

She shifts with a sigh that echoes in his own ribs. He follows the motion and finds her staring at her palms again. Like she could will away the sooty stains. They might pass for evening gloves, if they didn’t look so veiny. But they don’t hurt. He’s asked her.

Precious thing, what on earth is wrong with you, to think there’s anything wrong with you?

“You--” Astarion stammers, brow furrowing as he begins again, incredulous. “What in all the heavens above and hells below could have ever possessed you of the notion that you’re cursed?”

The softness in his throat, his whispered words on fogged breath, curling quiet into the night air, that’s entirely her doing. Her undoing of so much of what Astarion thought was in his nature.

Naomi looks up at him, with an aged sort of sadness brimming beneath the quiet huff of her laugh. “It was all the dead people, dear.”

Astarion scoffs. “Darling, I’m hurt that you could think of my fine company as anything other than a blessing.”

“You are my silver lining,” she breathes back, as if her words themselves were fragile lace. Astarion feels the delicate brush of them over his neck. It grows suddenly taut, choking the notion of other words right out of him.

When his head rolls back to the ground again, something, perhaps that useless heart of his, is trying to punch its way straight through his chest. He feels winded, like he took a tumble without featherfall. Like she smacked him with a damn brick.

He is as much her unintended consequence as she is his. One that might’ve been impossible if fate was otherwise. Resplendent light, only made possible by ravenous shadows.

Silver linings.

And you are mine, he thinks, only to himself, as his hands find her hair again. Aren’t you?

#thank you all for the patience and support as I cross post from AO3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #bg3 #naomi tavriel #midnight chimes #my writing

[lunamaraproject]

LUNAMARA: Fragments [2]

🦢

Felix makes sure to stop at the Overlook, as ever. No need to rush through the palace halls to her highness’s side with more portents of their once glorious city’s decline. Instead, he takes a moment to enjoy the view of what else they lost, in the century before. For a short while, he can forget even the weight of the report he carries in his arms.

The Surface is beautiful, even now. 

“Felix!”

He turns his head to look, though he needn’t do so. He knows he will find Cassius Corvus there, and a smile comes easier when he is proven right. It’s returned, though neither of them hide their tiredness from each other. It would be silly to do so, when they know each other’s tells so well. 

“You have manna dust in your hair, Cas,” Felix says, but only after he’s started sweeping his fingers through said dark locks. “You’re meant to eat it, not wear it.”

“I thought you might appreciate the fashion statement,” Cassius bats his hand away, though not hard. “You’re so predictable. Aren’t you bored of looking at it by now?”

“Why would I get bored of it when it’s always changing?” Felix turns his gaze back out to the world below. The glow of their great city used to illuminate all of its trees and mountains as it passed overhead, glimmering off of lakes and rivers and oceans, even highlighting the movements of the many myriad organic animals. 

And the little human towns too, though those are long gone from the Surface now. The scars carved into the earth are all so overgrown one could mistake them for cliffsides and ravines, if it weren’t for how eerily, unnaturally straight they are. 

Cas peers down. “Looks the same to me, Fi.”

“That’s because you have no eye for beauty.”

“I have an eye for you.”

“Oh stop,” Felix laughs, hip-checking him with a grin. “Aren’t you meant to be with little Elsie?”

Cas’ smile falters a little. His gaze moves away. “I’m giving her some space. She tried to commune with Her Majesty again.”

Felix’s own cheer cannot sustain itself. “Still no luck, then.”

A shake of the head.

“I guess this would be a bad time to deliver this report then?”

“Mmn.”

Silence falls between them, punctuated only by the sound of distant, crumbling rock. Something large has collapsed, but the echoes indicate it’s quite far. Hopefully no district that still has anyone awake in it. 

“You know this isn’t sustainable, right?” Cas says lowly, voicing what they shouldn’t voice. It’s not that anyone would berate him for saying it, but still.

“It’s what the Queen decreed before she lead the charge into the Dream,” Felix shrugs a shoulder. “Who are we to deny orders?”

Cas’ jaw clenches. “She’s not going to wake up, Felix.”

“I’ve been accused already of treason today, you know.”

“Be realistic! It’s been 120 years of decline now, as of yesterday!” Cas raises his voice, gesturing around him at the once glorious spires and pillars and waves of carved stone that established Lunamara as the most beautiful city in the sky, the jewel of a golden crown. Now it is the only city in the sky. “Things are not getting better, are not going to get better, if we all just try to sleep through it! We’ll end up lifeless rocks!”

“I, personally, wasn’t ever intending to do any such thing.”

“Then you’ll be left here alone in an empty city!”

“No I won’t,” Felix says, looking right at Cas. “You’ll be here.”

It’s clear that Cas has a lot to say about that, but can’t seem to pick one to start with, and so like too many people trying to cram through a door at once, nothing comes out at all. He stands there, fists clenched and shaking a little like he used to when they were children, and would bicker and argue about meaningless things like archery games and who sat in the front of the skysail. No matter how old they get, however many centuries pass, some things never change. 

Cas finally opens his mouth, but Felix doesn’t get to hear what he intended to say. There’s a crunch and a rumble, and Cas is suddenly much taller than him. Felix's stomach lurches, and he flails his arms helplessly. He’s falling–

And then Cas snatches him, right out of the air, yanking him close with a glow of magic and backing well away from the sudden chasm in the overlook. They cling to each other for a long, silent minute, almost straining to hear the sound of the broken chunk of Lunamara hit the ground. They don’t, of course. The surface is much too far away. Felix is supporting Cas as much as Cas is supporting Felix. Once the numbness of the near-fall passes, Felix immediately turns and starts moving them both over to a bench carved into the wall, sitting down with Cas leaning against his shoulder. “... you could have saved your magic and let me fall,” Felix says eventually.

Cas lifts his head and squints at him. “Why in Luna’s name would I do that?”

“Well,” Felix holds up his empty hands. “I dropped the folder. So it would have saved Rufus the trouble of throwing me off himself.” 

Considering this, Cassius pats Felix’s arm. “Let’s just… keep it between us.”

🌗

More from LUNAMARA:

Fragments [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]<-- More every Thursday!

Comic [Prologue]

Art by Luka (http://nousanti.tumblr.com/) Story by Pidge (http://pidgestories.tumblr.com/)

#lunamara #felix cygnus #cassius corvus #lunamara project #nousanti #pidgestories #artists on tumblr

[kisaraslover]

Do you think Kisara has any hobbies besides sitting in Kaiba's lap?

Well i like to look at established Kisara to draw out more traits so first things first is the dragonic nature. I think Kisara deeply enjoys nature and solitude and sitting in the sun. I dont mean this like camping either, from ancient Egypt we see Kisara already has unusual resistance to exposure to elements, with something godly in her veins so i think she might be really zen watching birds to flowers to the sky and basking her place in all this. We all have a passing moments of "everything IS everywhere all at once, all is one, one is all" but i think it would be a constant presence in her. she swings between "oblivious to life weird ass woman" and "enlightened higher being" VIOLENTLY. Meditating would be grounding to her, in the opposite way to all other people meditating.

and then music. dragons are a kind of bird <3 dont look that up. i think Kisara has an uncanny aptness when it comes to music. one of those people who can pick up any instrument and play a simple tune on it. i dont think she has a remarkable singing voice at all though. embodies "people sing because they want to not because they are good at it" hums gently music she likes. if she tries to seriously sing along to a difficult song her voice cracks loserly. she laughs and continues yknow? its still Seto's favorite and if he catches sound of her humming before entering a room, he waits outside to listen for a couple secs. its his secret no one needs to know shhhh. ALSO the fic Paper Roses has piano player Kisara and the romance is served so well by Kisara giggling while placing Seto's hands on the right keys so.

making things with your hand is a very grounding practice for anyone struggling to stay in the moment and stay present and i just cant move past these very artistic but expensive looking hobbies from youtube shorts -tries not to cry about capitalism locking the public out of arts- so after getting that Kaiba Money she'd just go "i always wanted to try glass art btw" and seto goes "?????. thats. alright ok. go for it"

im really conflicted on many "hobbies" and what makes them hobbies but if we work with the basis "how you spend your day is how you spend your life" i think she'd really be the least online person. the activies above WOULD be very frequent but i think Kisara spends her most days, ironically enough, socializing. she'd be talking to employees (important business) or talking to employees (just chatting lol) out with friends of all kinds and trades, Mokuba and his friends or Seto and HIS friends, or most surreal one, Seto and HER friends. shes the kind of awkward person who listens more than they speak, with her own charms and difficulties, thankfully when you try enough you can find people you can get along with. very endearing on the line of strange, bringing out peoples protective sides which is why she would gather Mom Friends and Bossy Bitches and Protective Eldest Siblings faster than you can say her name. while i characterize both Kisara and Seto as kind of introverted, i think Kisara would be charged with a thirst to know and understand humanity (both result of godly roots and alienated youth) so if her luck turned around after meeting Seto i think she'd build quite the social circle, not even realizing how many people shes getting close to at first. Seto's socializing would be more acknowledging part of healing means creating support systems, opening up to people -to whatever extent he can- surrounding himself with people who he cares about and who care about him in return, and definitely less easier than her collecting friends.

SO YEAH! sorry for the LONG ASS reply, i think Kisara is adopted by many Extroverts and on the time off she goes into her workshop does fuck all (DEF made a wooden dildo to see Seto's reaction. mokuba laughed his ass off thinking it would perplex him. he took one look at it and said its a pathetic cock and he could nude model for her. no ones laughing now.....)

#is this ask so lowkey shady? lmao i was tripping over myself answering like NOOOO MY QUEEN HAS MANY HOBBIES SHES FUN SHES INTERESTING #LISTEN TO ME DOCTOR HAN SHES INTERESTING #lmaooo #yugioh #ygo #kisara #not art #ask tag #her lowkey gift with instruments is quietly ignored by all of them. kisara plays an instrument shes seeing for the first time #all of them go 😑 i do not see anything strange. great job kisara youre so talented and its soo normal you can play everything. #so normal. you just got a strong ear. and strong understanding of what sounds come out with what movements on instruments #its normal its normal. no hocus pocus magic tricks here no sirrrrr

[n0tamused]

• Under The Glaze Lilly's Glow

- A request for @c-a-v-e-town !

A/n: But, no- I feel the same. Zhongli is a big comfort to me and admittedly, he made some rough times easier, so you know I had to do this one first. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the birthday wishes!. I do hope you enjoy this! :)

Content: fluff, drabble, F/Reader, use of (Y/n), soft Zhongli, established relationship, a little bit suggestive at the end but no NSFW in this one. Zhongli has arms like in his Archon days, not heavily proof read.

Words: 1,260

“Are you most certain you must leave us all so soon?” Iron Tongue Tian asked as the gentleman in the first table at his right rose from his seat. 

“Past certain, my friend” - Zhonglis' polite, yet tempered tone replied as he gathered what few possessions he brought, that being a sweetly tied up box that fit into his palm.  “I have an important person I must meet, and if I am any more late I'm afraid she will worry herself ill” - he excused himself, bidding farewell to the storyteller and any familiar faces that tuned in to listen to the tonight's tale of the mighty Rex Lapis, oblivious to the fact they were in the company of the same. He heard the others bid their goodbyes to him, and he responded to them accordingly before his body was swallowed by the distance and the crowd of the evening markets. 

Having wandered these streets for a millenia too long, watching them be built, he was able to walk with his eyes closed without a worry he would slip or bump into anything. Zhongli walked under the towering iron-and-stone gate, taking note of the glaze lilies at the sides of the public gardens. Their gentle smell was ever present, and unmistakable, carrying the weight of many memories, old and fresh. In the past, he would have seen the horrible views of the Archon War, his mind plagued with grotesque images but now, all he sees is her. 

One of the blue stems found its way between his gloved fingers, firm and bigger than other blooms, still waiting for night to fall to reveal its true beauty, yet none of it could be compared to the one's beloved. Zhongli arrived moments before she did, stripping off his long coat and heavy layers until was left in the simple plain shirt and pants he wore only around the house, relieving himself of modesty that covered his coal colored arms and the golden marks that spanned like veins.

Sooner rather than later, the house came alive once more as the long haired man waltzes about, putting the kettle onto the stove along with another pan for dinner he was planning to prepare. The wafting smell is what greets his beloved when she walks in, a mix between mildly sweet herbs and salt water that was boiling, the meat already half way done.

“Zhongli, I'm home!” - she called out, despite hearing his light footsteps nearing her position in the short hall; already having heard her entrance. 

“Oh, my love-” - Zhongli greeted, taking hold of a grocery bag tucked beneath her arm and helping her up once she removed her shoes so he could gaze upon her face, tucking away the stray hairs the wind had swept from her hairstyle. To say he missed her was a big understatement, and no words he ever has known or possessed in his vocabulary is sufficient enough to say so. His lips greet hers in a fleeting kiss with a promise of more laced into it.  “How was your day? I've already prepared us some tea and a quick meal to lighten our spirits, should you be tired out”

The conversation is swiftly lost amidst the exhaustion and the smells and his warm touches and words. It flew by too swiftly, like a mountain spring until it reached flat ground where it slowed its course. That being the moment when all tea cups have been emptied, the food eaten and her finding her place in his arms on their shared bed. Finding themselves covered by the thick veil of night, the two lovers intertwined, becoming a big mass of shadows while there was no light source in the room, only one, coming from the outside.

Little to no words are exchanged between them, her hands caressing his back while his rubbed soothing circles into her naked hips. “I've missed you..” - she breathed, meanwhile his lips found her hairline and pressed against it. The golden lined comb he had gifted her tonight lay on the nightstand.

“Not as much as I missed you '' - he responded gently, a tone carrying warmth only reserved for her and her alone. The glaze lilly he had placed in a little vase of water had spread its petals wide, bathing them in the silver waterfall cascading from the window.   “You have too much effect on me, I should be ashamed to have fallen so hard. But I am not, and I never will be.." Zhongli added with a curl of his lips, pulling back to find her eyes in the dimmed setting. The color he remembers she possesses is drowned out, but her beauty prevails  nonetheless. With the silver outline of her cheek, hairs and nose as her back was turned to the window, he couldn't help but go speechless.

His love playfully scoffs, rolling onto her back with one arm remaining around his shoulder. “All you do is flatter me, day in and day out.. You have no end.. Why do you never let me show you my affections too?” - (Y/n) teased softly, in no way offended with his non stop praise that effortlessly flew past his lips. 

“Flattery? My words are no mere flattery, they are the truth I hold within my heart, and I intend to keep proving it to you until the time itself comes to an end” Zhongli promised with an airy, quiet laugh, dragging himself up to his elbow to hover above her. The long strands of his freely flowing hair  cascade over his shoulders and tickle her exposed skin that gathered a pearly glow. Her heart has accepted him as he is, in his entirety and he can never repay that kindness enough, no matter how many times she told him there was no need, as this was no favor - this was love. Love they both mutually felt for each other.

“You, my dearest, have become my everything. I love you.. with my body and soul” - his face came near, stealing the air from her lungs with his lips brushing against her own as well as the tips of their noses. A cord is struck, or maybe it has been struck since the moment she stepped into the house, but its effects are showing now. A deep rooted feeling, walking the thin line between overwhelming love and a form of sadness deranged from the same happiness brought by this tenderness.

“I love you” - She whispered, so quietly he almost missed it. Her hand found his face and rested atop of it, thumbing at his soft cheek. That's when he finally gave in to the feeling of yearning, tilting his chin up and meeting her lips into a gentle kiss. The soft plush of her pressed against him is what will be the end of him, and he doesn't regret it, nor stop it. He accepts it with open arms and allows her to deepen the kiss as she pleases, following her pace as she sets it. 

“I know- and I love you even more” - Zhongli told her between the dance of the kiss, their air supplies dwindling significantly, but neither pull away. (Y/n) chuckles lightly at his claim, cradling his face with both hands and pulling him on top of her,  feeling how his warmth radiated off of him in tidal, gentle waves that caress the shore that was her. He was her love, her life, her support, and she would do anything to see him smile every day too - just like he would do everything for her to remain happy, and at his side.

Ⓒ n0tamused 2022. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #zhongli fluff #rex lapis #morax #genshin impact imagine #n0tamused.writes #n0tamused.drabble #<3 #zhongli #liyue

[leportraitducadavre]

You probably already answered something like this, but what do you about the Naruto and Sasuke ship? You think it doesn't work, or Naruto isn't actually a good fit for Sasuke? I love a lot of the analysis and the way you write, so I'm curious.

Hi there! Thank you for your words.

I did write something about them here, so you might want to look into that, I don't focus much on the SNS dynamic inside the manga and I might do that at some point (there's a lot of ground to cover) as the relevant points repeat themselves quite constantly throughout their interactions.

You need to take into account how Naruto interacts with the notion of "prodigy" in order to understand his approach towards Sasuke and how his acknowledgment became of utmost importance to him, as such is the basis of their relationship:

Regarding Naruto’s characterization, antagonizing the "prodigy" notion is incredibly important to him, not because he (truly) denies the strength of those who are given the title, but because their existence denies him of the acknowledgment he seeks, as all his accomplishments are "overshadowed" by Neji and Sasuke's sole presence. Therefore being recognized (positively so) by their ninja skills (as such is the political and cultural importance of such aspects inside the Shinobi system) is, to him, the most important category when pointing out a person’s value.  To Naruto (and a big portion of the fandom) Neji is not considered a failure (unlike himself, Hinata, or Lee) therefore he somehow has an easier life despite being, in every other manner, oppressed by his family. This is a mindset Konoha in itself teaches to its citizens as this dogma’s value rests on the fact that it guarantees the success and preservation of the status quo established. Therefore, for Will of Fire supporters,  Sasuke couldn’t be discriminated against because he was praised for his techniques/was popular, Neji might be a slave but he’s incredibly valuable to Konoha due to his strength, so there is some sort of “retribution”. 

(Source)

Naruto is contemplating Sasuke abandoning him and Team 7, which is the primary fuel in this quest and the reason behind his pain, he mentions the team that Shikamaru gathered (per Tsunade’s orders) to bring him back as these are individuals that put their life on the line to “rescue” Sasuke, yet Sasuke cares not. Naruto’s words are not a coincidence, he never states that the people searching for him are Sasuke’s friends (they aren’t, they never interacted in any significant way), the only thing they have in common is their village of origin and loyalty. For Naruto, that’s enough for a bond, for Sasuke it isn’t. I do believe that this specific claim: “You think I’m just gonna let you go?!” which is the culmination of Naruto’s speech about how Orochimaru will grant him power in exchange for his life (x) is understandable as Naruto is both hurt by Sasuke abandoning them and scared for his friend’s life (Sasuke is even leaving despite being aware that he’ll be likely killed, which is quite worse as not only Naruto feels pain as a result of his only friend escaping, but also him leaving to certain death). Naruto’s primary knowledge about Sasuke’s goal (killing Itachi) is that he’s willing to die for it (x) that, in regards to Naruto’s own goal, it’s unfathomable –as death is not one of the lengths Naruto is prepared for in order to get the acknowledgment he seeks. Furthermore, Sasuke’s death will automatically jeopardize his own objective, as Sasuke’s recognition is the one Naruto craves the most (here and here Naruto remembers Sasuke denying Naruto the equal status he wants, and Sasuke once again refuses: “who cares what you want?”).  “You were my Idol, and so… hearing that… I was never happier, with those words, for the first time… you acknowledged I was good.” (x) Can’t make it clearer here Sasuke’s relevance on Naruto’s life and the importance of him staying, of him acknowledging Naruto.

#anti sns #anti sns fandom

[pynkhues]

I'm the G/A shipper lol. Thank you for ur answer!! I do think it would've taken Gregg and Annie more time to come together, and even if I get what you're saying, of it could be them regressing (going back to what they'd already done), it just seemed like it was made to be. Gregg also just didn't seem like he really loved Nancy, and Nancy deserved better.

I had a related question. Why do you think it was SO hard for G to come up with what he liked about Annie? Like I wrote in my original ask, I didn't buy it for a second, and while it seemed to say much more about G to me than G and A's connection, I still hated it. It just seemed to really brush off/completely take out meaning of G and A's connection like it didn't mean anything, which even if they betrayed Nancy, and were very immature about it (with again G deceiving his wife while they were trying to conceive???? NOT OK), they clearly had a real connection, and I do think had genuine feelings for each other. Not to mention their history. What's your take?

(x)

I agree that Greg never seems like he's really in love with Nancy, but I also think it's important to remember that we only ever truly see them as a couple through Annie's POV. We're actually robbed as viewers of moments of intimacy or connection between them because at the end of the day, Annie herself doesn't really want to see it.

I do think there's a fair speculation too that Greg probably wanted the opposite of Annie when their relationship imploded and so sought a person like Nancy as a sort of marker of an 'adult' relationship, which is especially interesting because I think the show does a good job of depicting Greg as pretty immature still himself. There is the sort of vibe that Nancy probably parents Greg a bit in that relationship, but for a man who became a father himself when he was a boy, it makes a lot of sense.

Which really comes to your question of why Greg couldn't come up with anything he liked about Annie when she asked. I totally agree with you that I think he could probably list a lot of things he liked about Annie, but I tend to think there are a few things at play.

Firstly, and funnily enough, if I were to compare Greg to other characters in the show, the one I tend to think he's most like is actually Beth. He maintains a performative life that it's clear he's not happy in, he tries to be a good father but doesn't always make it work, he's prone to being selfish, finds himself backsliding into a relationship he thinks he needs to move on from, and is overall reluctant to being vulnerable or emotionally available. That's Beth! And honestly, I think it makes sense for Annie to seek that in a man given her most formative relationship in life is with her sister. (It's why I'll forever be mad too that we never got any Beth + Greg scenes!)

Of course, Annie's not that much better - she deflects with humour and he lets her, but when she circles back to vulnerability, which she usually does, he can't bring himself to be open with her about his feelings which is I think clearest in their scene together in 1.09.

And then she deflects, again, with a joke.

I talk about it a lot in the context of Beth and Rio where I think the show does a really good job of depicting that some dynamics are really hard to change. Whether its Beth and Rio's inherit omissions of truth and their games, or hell, even Beth as the placating, mothering housewife and Dean as the philandering breadwinner, a dynamic established can sometimes feel like a dynamic immovable, and I do think a part of that is what's at fault with Annie and Greg. It's why they so often become kids when they're together again, but I think is also why the space to be honest and open with each other is often seen as a chance to joke or shrug off or make light of everything that was once, and still is, real between them.

It's not to say they don't feel it, or that they don't know. It's just easier to not say it and to not have to deal with the consequences of what it actually means.

#thanks for this! #i ended up watching a bunch of scenes again to try and find that annie and greg one and OH the overwhelming sense of affection i had #for this show #immediately resurfaced #haha #i think i might be ready to finally rewatch in full #annie x greg #nbc good girls #annie marks #greg #welcome to my ama #gg asks

[archester-creations]

Rated: G

Pairing: Chase/Chief Burns

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Day three of @heartsandsparksshipweek vacation; established relationship, bots are able to eat

"Are you sure you don't need me?" Chase asked as Heatwave quite literally pushed him out the door. It was the only way to get him to actually go on his vacation with Chief.

"Yes, now get moving," Heatwave said.

"But what if-"

"Chase, we'll be fine without you two for a few days," Heatwave said and gave him another shove out the exit. Chase barely stumbled.

"Yeah! Go have fun, ride the waves," Blades said. "Cowabunga."

"Cowabunga?" Chase asked.

"They've been watching surfer movies lately," Heatwave said.

"I see. I shall… give it a try," Chase said.

"That's all we ask," Heatwave said. Though maybe not about the surfing thing. Human boards couldn't exactly hold bots. And he couldn't really see Chase as a surfer.

Around this time, Chief thankfully came down with the rest of the Burns clan. "Are you ready to head out, partner?"

"Yes he is," Blades answered before Chase could. Chief smiled.

“You can trust our family, Chase,” Chief said.

“I do. I’ve just… never really had a vacation,” Chase said.

Chief’s smile widened just slightly. “Then I think it’s about time for one.”

Thankfully, the chief made it easier to get Chase out of the base and actually on the anniversary vacation they’d planned months ago. Even if all of them had to reassure both of them that they’d be fine multiple times. All of them breathed a sigh of relief once Chase was out of view.

“First thing’s first.” Chief pulled out the tent and its poles. Chase watched as he set it up, roping both long poles through the canvas of the tent before he stuck its four edges to the ground with the help of a spike and small hammer. The finished tent looked like a folded book. It was also larger than Chase expected from the size of its bag. Large enough both of them might be able to fit comfortably under it. Or, at least, that's the plan. They will have to see tonight. The next thing Chief pulled from the small pile of things they'd brought with them was a human-sized sack Chief had explained was a 'sleeping bag' when they packed. He put it in the tent along with a much larger blanket.

"Next we'll make the firepit," Chief said as he grabbed some stones that seemed rather large in his hands. "Would you mind grabbing some wood, partner?"

"No problem," Chase said. He walked into the woods to gather logs. It reminded him of when the rescue bots got stuck on an island with Cody after that bad storm. Though this was much less worrying. Amazing how peaceful a vacation could feel when you weren't trapped in it. Once he felt his armload of wood was suitable, Chase returned to camp. Chief smiled up at him from his seat on the cooler, next to a section of cleared earth surrounded by rocks. Chase placed the logs in a neat stack near the tent.

"So now what?"

"Now we fish," Chief said.

"Ah, right. You do seem to find quite a lot of joy in that activity," Chase said. Chief chuckled.

"I do. Moreso when I get to do it with someone I love." Chase's spark spun with those words, though he certainly already knew the chief loved him. They were partners in at least two meanings of the word.

"Then let's fish," Chase said.

Fishing was one of those human things Chase still didn't completely understand. Like eating, though he could appreciate macaroni and cheese. And like eating, though he didn't fully understand it, he did like the bonding aspect of fishing. It was slow even in the river near the place they'd set up camp. (It seemed Cody learned from his dad as well as from the lad pioneer handbook.) But Chase didn't mind that. It just provided more time to sit by the river with his conjunx, listening to the movement of the water and the way the wind moves the tree's leaves and watching their bobbers go up and down with the stream. The fished in companionable silence for several earth hours according to Chase’s internal clock. Most of the fish they caught were thrown back, with the exception of one large fish Chase managed to catch. Chief claimed it as perfect for tonight’s supper.

"It is getting dark," Chase said. "Perhaps we should light the fire?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Chief said.

Chase helped Chief light the fire, then watched as Chief prepared the fish. It was almost disconcerting to watch.

“Is your food always stripped and gutted?” Chase said with something like a shiver. It was a good thing Blades wasn’t here. The younger bot liked earth food and Chase didn’t think they would like to know where it came from.

“The meat is,” Chief said. “For things like vegetables and watermelons the process is different, but I guess you could say that.”

Later in the night, as they were eating smores– gooey, incredibly messy, but quite tasty treats of graham cracker, roasted marshmallow, and chocolate– Chase leaned forward. It wasn’t hard to tell that Chief would be going to bed soon. “I have learned from Cody it’s customary to end the night with a ‘scary story’ when camping.”

“It can be.” Chief smiled. "Do you have one?"

"I have prepared one." Chase cleared his intake, and started. “On a night when the air was like pea soup, thick and clouded, a detective stepped out of his office. Immediately he caught sight of a car driving without its headlights. When he pulled the perpetrator over, he discovered the drive had massive unpaid parking fines as well. But because this is a horror story, the car disappears the second the detective turns to write a new ticket and is never seen again.”

“That’s a good one, Chase,” Chief said. He yawned wide and stood up to stretch, his knees and elbows popping as he did.

“Thank you. Is it time to retire?” Chase asked.

“I think so,” Chief said. “Wish I could stay up longer.”

“We have plenty of time tomorrow,” Chase said.

“That we do.” Chief chuckled.

At the tent, Chief directed Chase to lie down before he took his spot on Chase’s chassis, pulling the blanket with him. Chase carefully dropped a servo over Chief’s back. This wasn’t something they could easily and comfortably do at home. Chase was glad they could do it now. His spark spun happily, like a mobile. Chief sighed, seemingly melting into his spot. The beat of his heart was steady against Chase’s metal, even through the blanket that made him a more comfortable place to sleep.

"So how'd you like our first day and night of camping together?" Chief asked.

"It was peaceful. Nice," Chase said.

"Are you ready for the rest of the week?"

"I think so."

Chief smiled, and Chase smiled back.

#rescue bots #heartsandsparksshipweek #chase #chief burns #chch #tfchch #charlie burns #established relationship #camping #fluff #transformers #maccadam #writings #surprise for me #chief was hard for me to write for some reason? #if i write em again i think ill try from his pov like my friend suggested #see if that helps any #*if*