#i filled this out and then had to go back out and filter out obvious spoilers

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Spending the night at Simon's for the first time and him waking up to you in nothing but his oversized t shirt

Request from here

***

Eyes blinking as light filtered through his closed lids, Simon began to stir as the first bit of the days brightness filled the small bedroom of his tiny apartment. Slowly those thick, long limbs of his stretched their compressed muscles back to life as the blood flowed through them.

Turning over, he was surprised that there wasn't another body laying next to him under the covers; your bright eyes and warm smile were what he had planned to gaze upon, but there was no one. That put him a little on edge, this being the first time you'd stayed over at his shitty little apartment, but he tried to keep calm until he was fully awake.

Simon moved up onto his elbow as he lay on his side, his large hand rubbing the rest of the sleep that lingered from out of his eyes. He looked about, trying to find any signs of you: your discarded clothes from the night before lay in a pile on the floor right next to your shoes, your earrings still sat on the bedside table, and as he checked the mattress with his hand he found that it was still warm. It was obvious you were still around, he just had to go and find you.

A full yawn passed his lips before he heard the sound of clinks and taps, bangs and rustling coming from towards the kitchen area. So that's where you'd sulked off to, making breakfast no doubt.

God you were too fucking much, he wasn't used to all this sweetness, but he wouldn't change it for anything.

Carefully and quietly he moved out of the bed, scratching at the sparse covering of hair on his bare chest before he stood and straightened his sweatpants around his hips. He was hoping he could surprise you by showing up to catch you in the act.

With easy steps, Simon walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen and what he saw standing there amidst pots and pans, a stack of toast and a pile of bacon to your right, it took his goddamn breath away.

The expectation was to find you naked, since the only clothes you had were still on his bedroom floor, but that wasn't what he found at all. Your hair had been pulled up, a few stray hairs poking out around your hairline that hadn't been secured and it looked like the only thing you had on was one of his old baggy t shirts.

As you moved, Simon could just see a peak of the underside of your ass pop through the bottom of the shirt, playing peakaboo with him the longer he looked. The lines of your legs, looked even longer as the shirt sat just below your hips. Those juicy limbs looked good enough to eat, bare and glaring back at him.

Fuck, you had never been more beautiful to him; it nearly made his goddamn heart stop beating. Being a big man had its perks and this was one of the best ones he found, that you were able to wear his clothes.

In that moment as he watched you happily go about your work, looking like a comfy dream, images of you doing this full time flooded Simon's mind and his stomach flipped excitedly at the thought. If there was anyone that could make that rough and brazen military man soft, it was you.

And maybe it was about time he let someone do it...

There was a sudden warmness against your back as two bulky arms wrapped themselves around your from behind, making you jump a little at the surprise. " 'mornin, luv," Simon's husky voice hit your ears before his kiss touched your cheek. "See you've made yourself at home."

You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth he still had from being wrapped up tight in the covers moments before. "I just...I wanted to do something nice for you, make us breakfast," you said, giving the eggs in the pan currently in your grasp a flip.

"Pretty sure you do more than enough for a bastard like me," he chuckled as one of those thick mitts moved down and cupped lightly over your sex. "This is all I need to stay well fuckin' fed."

Immediately the heat rose in your cheeks, flushing your face bright red.

"But I meant my shirt," he continued, secretly smiling from ear to ear at how quickly he had you blushing. Certain, heavy movements from his hands flitted across your torso as he rubbed over the lines of your curves through the familiar fabric of his clothing.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly apologized, thinking you had possibly overstepped, "I hope you don't mind, I just needed something and it was just there in the top drawer and..."

Another kiss on your cheek shut you right up. "Look fuckin' good like this, luv," he purred in your ear, his low, gravely morning voice making you shiver.

"Really?" you asked, glad that he wasn't mad you'd commendeered his clothes; in reality you knew it would be nothing, but this being the first time you'd done this, you still had some giddy nervousness about everything.

"Ya look like a fuckin' picture to me," he reiterated, those full lips moving down to your next now as he leaned more against you. "I thought I looked good in this thing, but it ain't nothin' compared to a fuckin' vixen like you."

You giggled playfully at all the sweet praise. Nearly missing the eggs being done, you turned off the stove and set the aside until you both were ready to eat. "Please, I look like hell."

"Bullshit," he said as he turned you around, picked up you, and placed your butt on top of the nearest countertop. He slid in between your open legs, letting his hands run down your side from where he had lifted you, sliding tenderly over the shirt. He was right, you were naked save for the shirt and that did something to his still sleepy brain.

Greedily he tilted his head and leaned up into you, embracing your mouth fully with all of his and making your lips dance together. Feverish and sloppy Simon connected with your lips again and again, making your still sleepy brain flatline.

If you could wake up every day like this it would be a fucking living dream.

His kisses would not let up as he pulled you in closer, his hands running over the curves of your back as he stole your lips with a lazy intensity.

"Breakfast is gonna get cold," you groaned with eyes closed, mouthing the words against his parted lips.

His hips bucked into your own. "Nah, my breakfast feels mighty fuckin' warm to me, luv," he said as he kept right at it.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simin ghost riley #simon smut #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost cod smut

[gentlyweeps-world]

The “It” Girl | 6

summary: Being a rookie in the world of Formula One comes with challenges, added on with the fact you’re a girl, American and racing for Red Bull doesn’t help. While you do have your “guard dogs” and “it girl” tendencies, it doesn’t help that you’re also trying to figure out romance.

pairing: 2021 grid x fem! driver, lando norris x fem! driver reader

warnings: sexism, alcohol consumption, toxic environments, uncomfortable situations, angst

Previously: Why was it so difficult for you? Sure you had experienced things like this in karting, and the other ranks of Formula Racing, but this felt different.

You slide down against the door and quietly sob to yourself, not wanting to run to Max or Lewis this time.

Suddenly a knock comes on the door, and Lando’s voice filters through the door. “Y/n can I come in?” He asks softly.

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

“You’re the last person I want to see” You reply dryly, wiping the tears off your face. You hear a sigh on the other side of the door, and a moment of silence. “I know Y/n, but can I please come in to at least talk for a moment?” Lando says, sounding slightly frustrated.

“Why? Are you going to insult me some more?” You say angrily, opening the door.

You open the door and Lando enters, his face fills with shock and irritation to see you looking so depressed. He walks over and sits down on the bed next to you. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier, I didn’t mean what I said.” He says quietly, “but you were annoying me, and you should just stop being so sensitive, it’s annoying.”

The words land like stab wounds to your heart. “Just stop being sensitive?” You say, your eyes filling with tears again. “Thanks for the great fucking advice and kindness, I really appreciate it!” You say annoyed.

Lando’s eyes fill with annoyance as you lash out at him, “Well maybe you should just learn to get over yourself. You always complain to Max about everything.”

He continues to glare at you, his eyes filling with frustration. “You know, it’s obvious you like me, but you’re too much of a pussy to admit it.”

Lando looks to you trying to gauge your reaction as his tone softens slightly.

You scoff to yourself, “You’re a fucking dick Lando, you know that?” You say voice full of spite.

“And you’re a sensitive little pussy who needs to stop getting so offended at everything.” Lando says in return, his voice filling with annoyance as he stares at you.

“But hey, guess it doesn’t matter too much, I’ll get over you by the end of the season either way. We don’t need to be friends” Lando says, looking away from you and at the wall in front of him.

You just sit there silently, tears forming in your eyes again as they fall down your face.

“Oh no, here we go again.” Lando says under his breath, his annoyance filling his tone with a bit more spite and anger.

“Just let it out Y/n, you know crying is your favorite thing to do.” He says in an irritated tone.

You’re too tired to say anything back, too tired to fight him back, or else you would.

Lando notices your silence, and his tone softens a tad bit. “Do you want me to leave so you can cry alone, or do you want me to stay so you can yell at me some more? What do you want me to do Y/n?” He asks softly, his tone filling with slight annoyance.

“Can you just shut up? Please? Like for one moment stop talking” You say softly, leaning back onto the bed.

Lando stares at you with an annoyed expression, before he sighs and leans back against the bed next to you. He remains silent, his face still filled with irritation as he stares straight ahead.

You are too exhausted to carry on, and you begin to feel as if you are going to fall to sleep. Before you do, Lando turns his face towards you. “Can I just lay with you until I fall asleep?” He whispers softly, his face now filled with sadness rather than annoyance. “Please?” Lando adds on.

“Sure whatever” You mumble out, too tired to quite care what happens. You slowly fall asleep next to him on the bed.

You slowly drift off to sleep next to Lando, both of you laying in the bed in silence.

Lando seems unable to fall asleep, and you can feel him still staring at you.

Eventually he leans over and kisses you on the forehead, before also closing his eyes and falling asleep.

You remain in his embrace, and you begin to feel a slight twinge of guilt, mixed with a feeling that you do appreciate his gesture.

You feel his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close to him as you drift off to sleep. You feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, and after a moment of thinking you realize that you feel quite safe with him.

You wake up several hours later in the same position as when you fell asleep, and you notice that Lando is still asleep. His arm wrapped around you tightly, and your head resting against his chest.

You lay there for a moment, enjoying the sense of security that you feel, before realizing you should probably wake up Lando.

You reach up and shake Lando’s arm, trying to wake him up. After a few moments of shaking him, Lando opens his eyes and looks down at you with a half-asleep expression.

“Wha? What time is it?” He asks tiredly as he rubs his eyes and tries to regain his senses.

“It’s uh..1:28 am, do you want to head back to your room?” You mumble out tiredly.

Lando nods his head, “Yeah, I don’t really want to be sleeping in your bed.” He says, looking at you with a soft smile on his face. “Although it was sort of nice having you next to me.” He says softly, blushing slightly as he speaks.

“Well I’ll see you in the morning I guess.” Lando says, turning around to head back to his room. You can see a slight smile on his face as he walks out the door, and you’re not too sure why you feel slightly warm at the sight of that smile.

You fall back asleep in bed, feeling better this time.

You fall back to sleep, feeling a lot more relaxed and at ease in the bed. You drift off and soon you’re in another deep slumber. When you finally open your eyes again it’s already morning but you feel more relaxed than you’ve felt in days.

You check your phone, seeing you have two hours before you even have to be at the track. Then you look through your notifications, seeing the pictures Alex sent of you and Lando on the plane you smile at them.

You text your PR manager Elliot asking him and Charlotte if they’ll be making a statement of you and Landos “relationship” anytime soon.

You text Elliot asking if he and Charlotte are planning to make a statement about your and Lando’s relationship soon, to which he replies:

“Hey Y/n, I’m talking with Charlotte about it now and we’re leaning towards yes, but we’re not 100% sure yet. We’ll know more after the race.”

You feel your stomach drop with a sudden sense of nerves as you read Elliot’s text message, not sure how the FIA or public, who were against you, would take it.

You feel your heart begin to race a bit as you re-read Elliot’s message, and after a moment of consideration you reply back:

“Thanks Elliot, can you make sure you keep me updated so I can mentally prepare myself.”

You lean back against the pillow, taking a few deep breaths.

“You’ll be okay…” You mutter softly to yourself, stretching in bed.

“You’re a woman in Formula One, you can do anything” You add on, finally getting up out of bed and getting ready for the media duties ahead.

Before you know it you’re arriving to the track, but as you get out of your car to walk into the paddock you spot Lando walking your way.

You walk towards the Paddock when you see Lando walking towards you, your mind suddenly racing with thoughts. Suddenly you’re hit with the feeling of nerves and anxiety, as you are unsure what to expect.

Lando looks at you and smiles, not saying a word as he walks closer and puts his arm around you, his smile still on his face.

You look at him with shock, but realize he probably wants you two to walk into the paddock together for the PR stunt.

You place a fake smile on your face as the pair of you walk into the Paddock together. The two of you quickly draw the attention of the fans and reporters, and as you two walk through the Paddock you can hear the reporters talking to you as well.

Lando seems more than happy with the attention, and seems happy for the fans to be shipping the two of you together.

Photographers go crazy, flashes of cameras as you and Lando walk together.

You and Lando walk together through the Paddock, attracting a crowd of fans and reporters. The photographers continue to flash their cameras as they try to get the best pictures of the pair of you walking together hand in hand.

All of the sudden you can feel Lando grab your hand tight, the grip firm and hard. You quickly look up at him, wondering why he had done this.

“What’s wrong?” You mumble out softly, eyes still on him. You follow his eyes and spot Carlos looking at you too during his interview, then it hit you.

You follow his eyes and spot Carlos looking at you as well during his interview, which causes you to suddenly have a realization. You suddenly look back at Lando, and the dots begin to connect.

You slowly look back at Lando, seeing the gears shift in his eyes and the feelings he had come back up from that fateful weekend.

You gently squeeze his hand, trying to reassure him everything is okay.

Lando looks at you as you squeeze his hand, his eyes filling with emotion as all of the memories of that weekend seem to come rushing back to him.

You notice his face fill with worry and irritation, and his grip on your hand loosens, his arms slumping by his sides.

“You should go to the Red Bull garage” He mumbles out.

“Right..” You mumble out weakly, turning away from Lando and heading to the Red Bull garage, going to meet with Elliot to do your media duties.

Media day and qualifying passes by quickly, and before you know it’s race day. You zip up the rest of your race suit, pulling your balaclava down and put your helmet on.

In a blink of an eye you're lined up in the P4 position, Valtteri ahead of you and Lando behind you in P5.

Then the lights go out, your nerves and adrenaline reacting before you do. You’re one lap down, stuck in the same position as you were before.

“Gap between Norris is 1.6 seconds” You race engineer says, “Defend” He adds on.

“Roger” You reply, defending against Lando. He tries to overtake you but his front tyre smashes into your rear one.

Your RB16 is sent flying, your halo keeping you safe as it slides against the track and flips into the barrier. Your head slams back, vision fading.

“Y/n? Y/n are you okay?” You hear the fading voice of your engineer. Complete darkness surrounds you, since after all, you had passed out.

Lando however, wasn’t aware of that. “Fuck! For fucks sake, was that Y/n?” He says over radio to his own engineer, panic and frustration evident in his tone as stops his McLaren.

“Yes we can confirm that was L/n” His engineer replies, “Zak doesn’t want you leaving” He adds on.

“I don’t give a fuck what Zak wants, that’s my girlfriend” Lando growls out before getting out of his McLaren and running over to help the marshalls.

…..

“No I don’t give a fuck if you’re her “boyfriend” I’m not letting you in here! The last time you spoke to her you made her cry, she’s my fucking sister!”

You could make out the faint angered voice of Max, with a groan you wake up, the lights from the hospital flooding your vision.

“Just let me see her!” Lando says, exasperation clear in his voice. You look around and see Max blocking the door with Lando trying to get in.

“No! You’re the reason she’s here!” Max adds on, shoving Lando as some nurse tries to stop their arguing.

“Hi I’m sorry but you guys need to quiet down..” The nurse says nervously, but with one glare from both Max and Lando she walks off, probably too tired to care at that point.

You groan again, sitting up slightly, but as you feel the pain of your injuries you lie back down, your head spinning as you lay awake.

You can hear voices coming from outside the door, with one sounding familiar but you are too disoriented to recognise who it is.

Max and Lando’s voices stay disoriented, you just lay there on the bed staring up at the ceiling, for one of them to notice you awake, but they’re stupid.

You glance around the room, noticing some flowers, cards and stuffed animals from team members, friends and other drivers. But the one that sticks out is a French bulldog stuffed animal, with a card on the table next to you.

A smile forms on your face, knowing it’s from Lewis. You reach over to grab it but let out a groan. Lando shoves past Max and rushes towards you. “Hey just lay back down, I’ll take care of you..” He murmurs out, grabbing the stuffed dog and placing it in your hands.

Max lets out an annoyed huff and rolls his eyes, showing that he wasn’t thrilled Lando was here.

“How are you holding up?” Lando asks, his tone calm but his eyes filling with concern.

Max glances over at the pair of you, and then rolls his eyes and leaves the room.

“I don’t need you taking care of me.” You say to Lando, your voice still slightly weak and soft from the accident.

“I just don’t understand you Lando..” You add on, “One moment you act loving towards me, then the next you’re closed off and insulting me”

You glance at Lando, “I know what I did hurt you, I know I should have talked to you..”

“Yeah well that’s how relationships are Y/n.” Lando says softly, “It’s never perfect, we’re going to have ups and downs.” He says, glancing away from you.

You can see his expression change when he sees you looking at him, and suddenly his gaze hardens and he looks back at you. “Let’s just forget this ever happened.” He says coldly, glancing away from you.

“No..please Lando, don’t walk away, I’ve already lost you once..” You say softly, voice breaking as a lump forms in your throat.

“I know whatever this is, I know it’s PR and fake dating..I know that..”

“But I can’t help that I long for you..”

Your voice seems to hit a nerve in Lando as his eyes fill with shock, and his body language immediately relaxes. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then closes his mouth and turns away from you.

He stands there looking away from you, his eyes now filled with guilt and shame as his hands curl up tight into fists.

After a moment of silence, Lando lets out a sigh and walks away, closing the door behind him.

Your body goes numb, heart breaking as you hold your breath, hoping he comes back and changes his mind.

But he doesn’t, instead it’s Max coming in. Clearly pissed off.

He stops in his tracks as soon as he sees you, eyes watering and the color drained from your face.

“That pussy..” He mutters out to himself, coming to your side and pushing your head into his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

You let out a deep breath as Max wraps his arms around you, your body almost instinctively moving towards him as he pulls you into his embrace.

You close your eyes as you rest your head on his chest, the tears already spilling from your eyes as you begin to cry against his shirt.

You close your eyes and just soak in his embrace, feeling some reassurance and feeling at home in his arms.

“What do I do Max..” You whisper into his chest, body shaking as you sob. You knew Max was the person you needed right now.

“I don’t know Y/n…I really don’t know..” He whispers back. “How about during this break you come over and visit Kelly and P?” He suggests softly.

“Sure..sure” You mumble out, mind still set on Lando.

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

radio 🪩: Just one more part till the end of the series!! I’ll probably end up making a few sequel chapters 💙

Taking requests: ✅

taglist: @willowpains @m0cha-bunny @formula1mount @fennecspage @80sloverry @nichmeddar @sadg3 @microskies-blog @mycenterfold @victoriaholland @aurora-maria @tswizzleismother @camdensreg @lazybot @i-wish-this-was-me @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @landosgirlxoxo @woozarts @disneyprincemuke

next chapter

#formula one #formula 1 #forumla 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #x driver reader #f1 x female reader #f1 female driver #f1 wags #red bull f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 2021 #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #red bull team #red bull racing #mclaren #formula one x driver reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #red bull formula 1

[winters-dream]

Human!hero x Vampire!villain

The cell was cold, chilling Hero to the bone as they pushed the heavy door open. Its hinges groaned loudly as it swung open, revealing a dark room still of any life. Dead silence filled the small cell, Hero’s own breathing rang loudly in their ears. A flicker of doubt ran through their head, wondering if they had broken into the wrong cell until they made out an odd shape tucked into the corner’s shadows. A shape that looked suspiciously like Villain.

They took a few tentative steps forward, their eyes slowly adjusting to the dark as they took in the scene in front of them. Villain sat propped up against the wall, scars shining brightly against their paled skin, obviously caused by silver since they have yet to heal. Their  own blood stained their skin, streaks of it painting the floor in various directions. An alarming amount of blood, enough for Villain to die if they were human. 

Their chest heaved up and down feverishly despite not needing to breathe. Their eyes stayed shut as the hero approached them. Hero didn’t know if that was a good sign. 

“Back again?” croaked the villain. Their voice was light despite the obvious pain laced within it. Their whole demeanor screamed calmed and laid back despite the absolute horror scene that has been made of them. “Didn’t break me enough to your liking the last time?”

Hero stood frozen. They didn’t know what to say or how to approach the villain. Their carefree facade did little to convince Hero they were okay. They could see the tension in their jawline, the  caution of every breath they took, the grimace that wanted to creep onto their face. They could have fooled anyone else, but Hero knew them too well.

“The silent treatment, huh?” said the villain. “That’s okay, the sound of your voice makes my ears bleed. I can go without the headache.”

“Villain,” Hero called.

Villain’s eyes shot open at the sound of their voice, a mixture of shock and relief danced over their features. 

“Hero,” they breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Hero stepped forward, crouching down in front of the villain, their hands finding the shackles that kept Villain chained to the ground. They were thick and heavy, each link the size of Hero’s wrists. They dug dangerously into the villain’s own wrists, threatening to cut into the skin.

“I’m breaking you out of here,” said Hero. They gave the chains an experimental tug, letting go with a wince at the pained hiss that left Villain’s mouth.

“My knight in shining armor?” asked Villain. “That’s sweet.” 

They noticed the light blush that dusted over the Hero’s cheeks, visible to them even in the dark. A groan slipped past their lips as the hero continued to feel around the chains. “But it’ll be safer for you if you leave. You know better than I do how unpredictable your precious Superhero is.”

Hero tightened their grip on the chains, opting for trying to pull them out of the floor. “That’s all the more reason why I need to get you out of here before you die.”

“Awe, you care,” cooed Villain, a small smirk made its way to their face. They let out a series of fleeting gasps as Hero pulled on the chains once again. 

They gripped onto Hero’s arm, to prevent them from pulling again. Their soft skin, warm to the touch and thrumming with life. Their pulse beating rapidly below Villain’s thumb, their blood running through their veins. Their sweet scent filtering through their nose. Villain bit their lip, aching for a bite. 

"When's the last time you fed? How long?" asked Hero. And Villain didn't know the answer, couldn't even tell Hero how long Superhero has had them here. The days, weeks, months, all blurred together in an endless cycle with no clear beginning or end. 

Hero huffed a sigh, displeased with the lack of response. They shuffled closer to Villain, hands tugging at the collar of their own shirt which earned a light chuckle from Villain. 

“What are you doing?” they asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Come here and drink my blood.”

Hero shuffled closer, a leg tossed over one of the villain’s. The scene almost looked strangely intimate, if it weren’t for the blood that surrounded them and the deathly look on the Villain’s face. Hero wasn’t sure how long Villain had left to live, but they were certain that they were the criminal’s only hope right now.

“Hero, I’m starving,” said Villain. “If you let me drink your blood, I’ll likely kill you.”

Despite their words, they pulled Hero closer, their chains rattling loudly against the floor. They inhaled deeply, the hero’s intoxicating scent flooding their senses. It was heavenly, Villain’s favorite scent.

Hero couldn’t help the small scoff that climbed up their throat. “Since when did you care whether I live or die? Given your reputation of hunting heroes, I expected you to kill me years ago.”

Villain tilted their head to the side, their signature smirk returning to their face. “You’re an unexpected exception. But don’t worry, your last breath won’t be today. I’ll be gentle when I drink from you.”

Their hands traveled down Hero’s back, slowly making their way to their butt, but Hero was quick to divert. They pulled their hands away and pushed them against the ground with a shake of their head.

“I’m only offering you my blood.”

Villain never lost their smirk as they shook their head as well. “Of course.”

They leaned forward, wasting no time to find the hero’s pulse and sink their fangs into their neck. They heard the hero’s pained gasp, but made no move to let up. Hero’s blood was warm, fresh, heavenly on Villain’s tongue. It sated a hunger so deep within the villain, they never knew a sweeter relief. It took every little ounce of inner strength the villain had left within them to not drain Hero dry right now. They took gulp after gulp, finally taking one last drag of the hero’s blood before letting go with guttural sigh. 

They slumped back against the wall of their cell, a smile spread over their lips as they felt the blood do its work and heal what was wrong with them. Their energy renewed, their wounds closing up, their mind clearing and senses more acute. They were forever grateful to the hero and their delicious blood they graciously offered them. 

Their chains rattled, a weak tug at their wrists. They opened their eyes to find the hero weakly pulling at the chains keeping Villain glued to the floor. Their efforts made Villain laugh as they replaced the crime fighter's hands with their own, breaking the shackles off their wrists with ease. They let out a relieved hiss, rubbing their wrists as feeling slowly returned to their hands. They glanced at Hero once more, giving the side of their face a light pat and stood up.

“You did well, Hero.”

Hero could only nod as the villain pulled them along into a stand, their footing uneasy as they swayed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And just where do you think that is?”

Hero whipped their head around, Superhero standing in the open doorway with their arms crossed over their chest. Hero stood still, like a deer caught the headlights. They’ve been caught. Freeing the enemy. Superhero met them with a disappointed look. 

“Hero, what are you doing?” 

The sound of Superhero’s voice snapped Hero into action as they quickly moved to stand in front of the villain to shield them. A huge wave of dizziness ran over them, their vision coming in and out of focus as they moved. But they stayed their ground, refusing to leave Villain’s side. They noticed the superhero’s eyes dancing over their body, focusing on their labored breathing, their tired eyes, the obvious puncture wounds on the side of their neck, the blood drying around the edges.

“Hero, are you out of your mind?” demanded Superhero. “Feeding that demon? Giving it your blood?”

“They were starving,” defended the hero. “You locked them up and waited for them to die from starvation. That violates our code of conduct, I should report you—”

“Report me? I’m doing the world a favor, keeping that thing locked up.” Superhero placed their hands on their hips, fingers brushing over the stake they had tucked into their belt. They gave Villain a look filled with a mixture of disgust and fear before scolding the hero once more. 

“It’s a demon, a bloodsucking parasite who will stop at nothing to drink away the entire world’s population,” they said. “Demons like this one are always hungry. And you willingly gave it your blood. It knows what you taste like now and will cling to you like a leech. It won’t stop until it’s taken every last drop of blood from your body.”

“If you want to survive at all, you need to kill it now.” Superhero tossed their stake at Hero, Hero catching it clumsily as the large amount of blood Villain took from them delayed their reaction time. They simply looked at the silver weapon before meeting Superhero’s eyes. 

“I’m not killing Villain,” they said. “I’m not like you, I don’t kill people.”

Superhero scoffed, loudly and dramatically. “Listen to you, that demon has you wrapped around its finger. Its charming words and pretty face has you throwing away the very core of your beliefs. It’s not human, it’s not people. Killing it is what’s good for the world.”

Hero’s chest was heavy with disgust at their superior’s constant insistence of calling Villain an ‘it’. They were talking circles around each other. It almost felt like Superhero was a parent scolding a stubborn child, Hero refused to let Superhero win this argument.

“I’m not killing them.”

“You make a poor excuse of a vampire hunter then,” said Superhero. “If you’re so quick to defend the very reason we even need heroes in the first place. Need I remind you, this monster has killed countless humans. Countless heroes. You shouldn't feel sympathy for them, and definitely shouldn't spare their life.” 

Hero simply shook their head, reiterating that they don’t kill people and call it heroism. Superhero’s face slowly morphed from one of disappointment to fear the more they stared each other down. 

“Hero, you’re making a mistake,” they said. Their voice wavered as they spoke, their eyes locked onto the villain with a fearful gaze. “Villain is not someone you should be protecting.”

Superhero took a step forward, their arm outstretched for the hero. But Villain was faster. At a speed higher than Hero could follow with their eyes, Villain had moved to stand between the two heroes with Hero’s stake in their hand. A blink of an eye was all it took and Superhero was on the ground, Hero’s stake plunged deep into their neck.

Hero, too stunned to speak, stared at Villain as they turned back to face them, a wicked grin plastered on the criminal’s face. They pulled Hero close to them with ease, securing their arms tightly around their waist. 

“I really must thank you, Hero,” said the villain. “Superhero was no easy feat. They’ve been on my list for years now.”

It began to click together. “This was all just a plan to kill Superhero?” asked Hero.

“Of course,” Villain’s hand came up to lightly caress Hero’s face, a shock going down their spine from the tender touch. “And you played your part out perfectly.”

“Played my part?” Hero asked. Villain nodded, their face so close to Hero’s, their breath fanned over their face. “You knew I would come save you.”

“Was counting on it. We make a pretty good team, you and I.” Something in Villain’s eyes changed, an idea coming to them. A wonderful idea that left Villain feeling almost giddy at the prospect.

“Why don’t we do just that? Become a team. We can reign terror on the world together, kill heroes together. We’ll be the Bonnie and Clyde of the twenty-first century. Only more dangerous. And more powerful.”

Hero glanced between the villain’s hopeful gaze to the dead superhero on the ground. The superhero they inadvertently helped Villain kill. Bile rose at the back of their throat at Villain’s plan, what they were asking. They wanted Hero to turn their back on the very core of their being. Do evil instead of fight it. 

They glanced at the villain once more, mouth opened to speak. But before they could usher out a single syllable, they lost consciousness, the exhaustion from blood loss finally catching up to them.

Villain grinned.

#im alive #my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero and villain #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #vampire #vampire x human #captive

[bipp-bopp-time-to-stop]

Needy, Needy, Needy

This fic was an absolute pain to end. I think I wrote the ending of it in, like, five different ways before actually ending it. Not to mention how this plot was completely different when I first started out. The fic's original name was "Can I have your name?" but try as I might, I could not get the plot I had for that to flow. So, I hope you all enjoy a funky little fairy boy. TW: Yandere themes, manipulation, Hyrule purposefully letting himself get hurt, possessive themes, delusional thoughts, a few suggestive moments (nothing explicit), Hyrule's an absolute stinker

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The light that filtered through the trees dappled the forest scene below in blotches of gold. A spring breeze blows sweetly through the woods and Hyrule feels the wind ruffle up his fluffy hair. He doesn’t bother to fix it because that meant he had to move. And he would sooner die than do that right now.

A hand comes back down to his head and nestles itself into his brown locks. An item, soft and fresh, is placed in his hair before the hand retreats. The hand isn’t gone for long as it returns to his hair again in a few moments to put another item in his hair. Hyrule hums and turns his head to the side to expose more untouched patches of hair. In doing so, he gets to bury his face further into the crease where your thighs and abdomen met. The action elicits a giggle from you and Hyrule believes he’s finally ascended to heaven.

“When I’m done with you, you’re sooner going to be a flower boy than a fairy boy,” Hyrule hears you giggle from above. He snorts in response and cuddles in closer. He takes in a deep breath and relishes odor that greets him. It was overly musky but it was you and that meant it was the smell of home.

“Mmm… I don’t mind,” the brunette sighs out and finally cracks open his eyes to stare at you. And you’re nothing short of beautiful. Golden light framing your hair still messed up from your recently shed helmet. Eyes and lips crinkled into a serene expression. Every part of you just screamed divinity.

Although divine was the word that best suited you, Hyrule also found you to be sweet. Sweet like honey fresh and dripping from the comb. Sweet like the snacks he liked to munch on whenever no one was looking (you almost always caught him, though, and claimed he’d rot out his teeth one day). Sweet like the warm and thick emotion that would pump through his veins and flood his heart when he was held in your arms. Your love poured and flowed through him like hot syrup and it made him giddy and high like nothing else could.

Your hands snaked under Hyrule’s arms and forced him up. He whined and wobbled his lip at you but you refused to give in. The two of you walked over to the still waters of the pond beside where the great fairy resided and you had him look down at his reflection. His hair was filled with all sorts of flowers and even a few sprigs of berries. He blushed at the sight but the wide smile on your face made it clear how happy his new hair accessories made you. To see such joy fill your face made Hyrule a weak, weak man.

But he’s your weak man.

And the ring that hangs from the chain on your neck should make that obvious.

Hyrule wish he wasn’t such a clutz in presenting it to you, though. He had practiced his lines dozens of times, learned your schedule when camp was set up to find the moment in time you were least occupied, and even learned a few poetic flares from Wars. And what did he do when the moment came?

He shoved the ring into your hands while stumbling over his words like a toddler still learning to talk- in front of everyone. Even worse? The ring didn’t even properly fit.

Through some manner of luck, though, you kept the ring. Hung it from your neck and barely removed it from your person. You didn’t act like his fiance, much to his displeasure, but he couldn’t stay mad at you. You just had so much love to give and he knew his brothers deserved it after how cruel fate and the gods have been to them all. Don’t think he’ll be as lenient when he’s with you back in your world, though. Like any lover, he doesn’t appreciate a homewrecker.

“C’mon, you two- we need to get a move on,” Time called out and Hyrule was sorely reminded that the two of you weren’t exactly alone. He grumbles some less than pretty words under his breath and finds his heart breaking as you heed the older man’s words and move away. Hyrule tries to stare down Time where he stands but the blonde brushes him off as if he wasn’t there. To add insult to injury, Time loops his arm with yours and leads you to the front of the group he shouldn’t be allowed to do that he’s not your fiance stop it stop it stop it!

Sensing the sour mood surrounding him, neither Wild or Legend talk to the brunette as the group travels onward. You’re stationed at the front of the group with Time walking ahead of you and with Warriors and Twilight at your sides. As much as Hyrule loved everything about you, he wished you didn’t end up favoring the heavy armor you wore or the mace you wielded especially given it’s hidden meaning and much less hidden claim on you by another man. If you were sooner like Wild and preferred a bow or used magic like he did, you wouldn’t be placed at the front of the group every single time.

He hated these moments. Any moment he was away from your side, any moment your attention wasn’t on him, and especially any moment you weren’t within eyesight. He knew he shouldn’t feel like this but he can’t help it and he doesn’t want to. With the shit he’s been through, he thought he’d never find happiness. Then… he stumbled through a portal and met his brothers. It almost brought tears to his eyes when he realized he wasn’t alone in his pain and that these men understood him and didn’t try to kill him on sight. And then you, Hylia’s apology for what she’s done, came into his life.

You were what convinced Hyrule that happiness was not only possible for him, but also something he deserved. Unlike others who would boast about Hyrule’s achievements until they turned blue and he turned red, you whispered them. You talked to him so sweetly about all he’s done like it’s a humble fairy tale and not a ballad to be sung. Hyrule appreciated that- he appreciates you. You, more than anyone, understand he’s naturally shy and reserved and approach him as such. You don’t force him to boast or seek out glory because you’re happy with just him. And he’s over the moon with you.

You were just the best fiance Hyrule could ever ask for. The sun to his moon, the sword to his shield, and the peanut butter to his grape jelly. You both completed each other and evened each other out into a pitch perfect harmony. While he preferred to be light on his feet and leaned towards his magic, you were all brawn and blunt with your mace in hand and cloaked in steel. Whenever he’d shy away from interacting with strangers or just talking in general, you were quick to speak for him and allow him his space. When he was about to get lost or wander off without realizing it, you were quick to be by his side and steer him back to the correct course.

It’s because of this balance you brought that made Hyrule so… clingy.

Without you, that balance was off. And when the balance is off, Hyrule feels upset and sick. So, no you equals no happiness. And Hyrule could do… drastic things when he was unhappy.

One time, he had purposefully allowed himself to wander too close to a cliff during a fight. He tumbled down the rocky slope along with the chuchu that had attacked him. He received dozens of cuts, bruises, and even acid burns along with a broken ankle and wrist. Because of this horrendous “accident”, it forced the group to stay in a town for a week while he was regularly healed to speed up the recovery process. The scoldings from the others went in one ear and out the other because you were there. You were the one who dressed his wounds, who helped him eat, and even helped to bathe him. You were the one who roomed with him and always ended up in the same bed with him because he was hurting so bad! Please just cuddle with him and rub away his aches and kiss away his pain. Please? Ignore how he’s pressed up against you so closely that the only way he could get closer would be to crawl down your throat.

Another time, he let his jealousy get the better of him. When the group had stopped to set up camp, Hyrule helped get things unpacked. Strangely enough, though, a few things got mixed up and suddenly fingers were pointing at each other as to who did what. You naturally butted in to try and settle the argument and Hyrule patiently waited to the side while you did. When you eventually got fed up with trying to quell the shouting men, you slinked away to take a breather. Hyrule was at your side before you could even sit down. He busied himself in helping you shed your armor and whispered gentle praise to you while he helped massage out the knots in your neck and shoulders. Ignore them for a while, hm? Just stay with him by the creek and let them sort out their business. But… since you’re both already here, why not take a dip? The water’s rather refreshing and it never hurts to clean up. Plus, wouldn’t it be so romantic to wade out into the deeper waters underneath the moonlight with the both of you bare as the day you were born? The two of you were engaged and Hyrule believed that the two of you deserved some needed alone time.

There were countless times Hyrule had gotten up to shenanigans to get your attention back onto him. He had fairy blood in him so such trickery came naturally to him. Not that you needed to know about all of his little games, though. He could only imagine the cold shoulder you would give him and that in and of itself would be his end.

Thankfully enough, it didn’t take the whole day to reach the next town. As everyone settled into the inn, everyone began to go about their usual routine. Warriors and Twilight went off to talk to the nearest stable to get Epona settled in while Legend and Sky went off to purchase needed amenities. Wild weaseled himself into the kitchen to prepare dinner after Time intimidated persuaded the innkeeper into letting them use it. Wind had wandered off to somewhere but Hyrule wasn’t too concerned on keeping track of the boy.

Unusually, though, Time was the one taking stock off the current supplies and not Four. The reason? That damned armor of yours. Protective and sturdy as it was, it wasn’t unbreakable. During the walk to the town, Four had noticed that the right pauldron creaked against the metal plates of your armor in a way they shouldn’t. Thus, he had requested to examine the armor when they arrived in town. Hyrule doesn’t understand how taking off the whole cuirass was necessary for a little touch up, though.

Hyrule was thankful for meeting all of his brothers and getting close to them, but he learned that family can get… complicated. Complicated was easily a good way to explain how Hyrule felt towards the little blacksmith. He was a great guy, good in his craft, and often a welcome voice of reason when things got out of hand. He was the one who kept the armory of the group in tip top shape. He had to thank Four for many things but there was also a point of conflict between the two of them. You.

Hyrule’s not blind. He’s only lived for as long as he has due to his trained eyes and ears. He knows that when that armor was finally finished and gifted to you, it was far more than just armor. Much like the ring that Hyrule had gifted you, it was a symbol of claim. Just thinking about the heart eyes Four would give you whenever you were donning the armor made Hyrule sick. It was also a blow to his self-esteem as, compared to the ring, it was far more practical. It kept you safe and saved your life constantly whereas the ring Hyrule gifted you wasn’t even magical. It was a band of polished silver versus an entire set of steel plate armor, for crying out loud! Talk about an unfair match up.

When Hyrule looked back to you and Four he wanted to rip his hair out. You had been sat down on a chair while Four was on your lap. Based on how the smithy was touching your shoulder and messing with a strip of measuring tape, it seemed like he was just doing his “job” and readjusting your armor. Hyrule knew better, though. Four didn’t need to be on your lap to do this. He didn’t need to be so handsy with your bare skin. Hell, Four didn’t even need to retake your measurements as it seems he does so nearly every other week! Hyrule knows you’re gaining muscle, but not that fast!

The brunette grinds his teeth together and tries not to let his simmering anger show on his face as Four just plops himself down on your lap and gets comfortable. It’s clear that he’s done doing whatever he has to do so he should be getting off and leaving you alone but nooooooo! He’s sitting on your lap, soaking up your attention, even leaning his head against your chest, and his hands are still touching you. Were Hyrule a larger and stronger man Like Twilight, he would’ve just picked up the midget and punted him out the door.

What can Hyrule do? How can he put your attention back on him? Does he cause a scene? Does he have an accident in the kitchen and maybe cut or burn himself? Does he switch out a few belongings in the others bags so they’ll argue with each other when they get back? What can he do?!

“(Name), I’ve been meaning to ask- are you alright?” Time pipes up and Hyrule shifts his darkened eyes over to him. C’mon… don’t add him to the mix! The Old Man is even worse to deal with!

“I’m quite fine. Uhm, why do you ask?” You respond with a puzzled expression.

“You seemed to have gotten a bit heated with those two travelers earlier, that’s all. What was that even about?” Time questions. Ah, that. Hyrule wasn’t there the entire time you had the argument, but he saw you nearly storm away from the two novice adventurers. If he remembered correctly, you had just tried to be helpful and give them advice but it’s clear they took it the wrong way.

“Don’t worry about it- just two beginners unwilling to take some advice. I think we’ve all gone through that bullheaded phase before,” You replied in a dismissive manner. It didn’t bother you, which is good, but you had been bothered and that was not good. Hyrule wouldn’t mind going off to find these two adventurers to give them a piece of his mind, but he had a better idea when he saw Four’s eyes fill with blue and violet.

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into them again, yeah? Even once you left, those two jerks just couldn’t seem to keep their mouths shut! The things I heard them say were entirely uncalled for. From your attitude to your figure to even your armor!” Hyrule growled and crossed his arms as he spun a little lie. He watched Four out of his peripherals and saw the little smithy shaking in place. The color of his eyes were twisting and turning like a nest of agitated snakes. All he had to do now was separate you from Four and Hyrule could whisk you away.

“Hyrule, drop it,” You tutted and the brunette threw his hands up in mock surrender. He let a grin slip when you moved Four off of your lap and got up. You walked off and up the stairs but Hyrule lagged behind. He continued to watch Four and how the Colors within him were clearly arguing. His eyes shifted from wobbly red and verdant green to brash and violent blue. After a few seconds, calm and calculating violet cascaded over his irises before the smithy exited from the inn.

Hyrule couldn’t hold in the pep in his step or stop himself from humming under his breath as he caught up to you. He followed you into your room and closed the door behind the two of you. He leaned against the door and watched as you began to settle in for the night. How your skilled and nimble fingers messed with the clasps of the rest of your armor and removed it. How you began to shed the layer of padding you wore beneath the steel. How your skin shone with a thin sheet of sweat and how the muscles hiding under neath a layer of fat flexed and moved with every little thing you did. Hyrule tried not to pout when you got dressed back up in your nighttime linens.

As you slipped into bed, Hyrule dived between you and the blankets. He ignored your grunts or your complaints as he nuzzled up to your body. He intertwined his legs with yours, nestled his head beneath your chin, and wrapped and arm around your waist and let his hand rest on your thigh. His other hand busied itself with the chain around your neck and toyed with the engagement ring.

“Clingy,” Hyrule heard you huff as you pulled at the apple of his cheek. He only smiled in response and rubbed his face against your shoulder. The soft skin was blemishless and beckoned Hyrule to act. It was like a blank canvas and Hyrule knew of a great design he could paint onto it.

“Mmmmmmmmmm…”

“What?”

“Hmmmmmmmmm…”

“Hyrule, what?”

“Mmmmmmmgonnabiteyou-”

“Wh- OW! HYRULE!”

Hyrule kept his teeth clamped down on your shoulder as tightly as he could even as you tried to pry him away. After a short scuffle, the brunette let go and was nearly pushed off of the bed by you. He merely grinned as you glared down at him and rubbed your shoulder. The skin in and around the bite mark was quickly turning red and it’d hopefully bruise. He didn’t exactly prefer leaving such a crude mark on you as you already wore the ring, but he felt like an extra reminder was needed every once in awhile.

“The hell was that for, you little shit?” You grumble as you continue to massage your shoulder. Although your voice was pointed and sharp, Hyrule didn’t shrink away.

“Hmmm… jus’ felt like it~,” Hyrule giggles and smiles up at you. You roll your eyes and shake your head rather disapprovingly. You scowl at the bite mark and continue to rub it in hopes of soothing the minor ache.

“This better not bruise or else the others are going to get ideas,” You sigh and Hyrule drops his grin. What do you mean by “get ideas”? If they think that the two of you are together then that’s the exact idea that he wants them to have! You are together! You accepted the ring! Don’t tell him he has to force it on your finger…

A knock on the door breaks the moment and Hyrule wants to scream. You adjust your tunic to cover up your shoulder before answering it. An upset Twilight is who greets you and quickly beckons you out of the room. Hyrule barely hears him mention something about Four and he gets some gratification in knowing that his plan worked.

The Colors would undoubtedly be a mess. Blue would likely sooner be mistaken as Red and no doubt Vio would also be drenched as well. Green would at least try to explain their actions while that crybaby Red would be clinging to you and sobbing. As you would whenever someone turned up messy, you’d dismiss them to get cleaned up. And then, you’d storm back to your room and try to calm down.

Hyrule busied himself in getting the room set up while you were away. He pushed the two beds in the room together and fluffed up the pillows and blankets. He changed into his nighttime clothes which was nothing more than a comfortable pair of trousers. Once everything was set up and ready, he waited on hand and knee for you to return. He reeled back his playful attitude and hoped you wouldn’t be too snippy when you came back.

The minutes passed by before the door clicked and creaked open. You slumped over to the pushed together beds and slip under the blankets. Once you were curled up in bed, Hyrule scooched over to you and pulled you towards him. He kept his movements and affections calm, gentle, and slow so you could easily pull away in the case that you were getting overwhelmed. Dealing with your stress was a fickle thing but Hyrule knew how to help you calm down he couldn’t call himself your fiance if he didn’t know how to do even that.

“Four do something stupid?” Hyrule whispers out as he holds you. He places his hands on your shoulder and rubs them. His palms slide down your shoulder blades and back as he massages the tension out of you.

“Mhm…” You sighed out. You didn’t seem to relax as quickly as Hyrule wanted you to. He pulled you flush against him and he coiled his arms around you. He placed a few kisses on the nape of your neck but that gained no reaction from you. Hyrule found himself getting antsy at your lack of response towards his affections. You weren’t reciprocating them or pushing him away. You were just laying there and saying nothing. If there was one thing Hyrule never liked, it was your silence.

“(Name)...” Hyrule whined out in the most pathetic tone he could. Finally, you rolled over and looked at him. He had quickly mustered up crocodile tears and a pouty lip. You mumbled out something Hyrule didn’t quite catch as you pinched the bridge of your nose. When you dropped your hand and opened your eyes again, the turmoil rolling around in your eyes seemed to be quieting down.

“I swear- you are just so needy,” You snort as you ruffle Hyrule’s hair. Hyrule grabs the hand before it can retreat and he brings it to his lips. He places a cheeky kiss against the palm of it which gains him a chuckle from you.

“I am. I am very needy and I’m not afraid to admit it,” Hyrule hums and continues to kiss your hand. You keep trying to pull away but Hyrule keeps chasing it and pressing more and more obnoxious kisses to it.

“Enough!” You giggle out and push away Hyrule.

“I can never have enough of you,” Hyrule claims and places his hand over his heart.

“You sure about that? Even if you had to spend the rest of your life around me?” You challenge and raise a brow. Hyrule returns the smirk you have on your face and loops the chain hanging from your neck around his finger. He rests that beautiful silver ring against his knuckles and brings it up to his lips for a featherlight kiss. His big doe eyes fill with adoration and he speaks his next words with absolute certainty.

“You speak like I could ever get tired of you or that you could ever get rid of me.”

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere lu #yandere lu x reader #yandere lu hyrule #yandere lu hyrule x reader

[imaginidol]

Mingi: “Don’t read that, the lyrics aren’t ready yet.”

You were waiting for Mingi to wrap up the last of his solo-recording session before you both drove home together as usual. He was done, and was only now awaiting a schedule confirmation from one of his producers. While you both waited for the producer to return, you were carefully walking around the studio, marveling at all the different artistic contents surrounding you.

“This piano, why is it so small?” You ask, pointing to a Nord keyboard.

“Synthesizer,” Mingi replied, giving you a small smile.

You nodded, assuming you knew what it meant. But your confused expression only made it more obvious that you didn’t know what that meant either, and it made him laugh lightly.

“What’s this for?” You asked, picking up a strange object from a desk. “It looks like a ping pong paddle!”

Mingi smirked. “That’s a microphone pop-filter. We use it to filter out external noises when recording.”

You smiled. “I think I know what it is! Can I put it on your microphone?”

He nods, and motions a hand towards the small recording booth. “You can try,” he laughs.

You walked in with the filter, only to find that the microphone inside already had a pop filter of its own latched on. You sighed, but didn’t mind after carefully observing it and realizing you probably wouldn’t know how to attach it anyway.

Below the microphone, a set of papers caught your eye. This must be one of Mingi’s songs, you think.

You quietly read the lyrics on the pages, only to realize that some of these lines were phrases that you and Mingi often shared together. Your heart skips a beat when you realize, this song is about… us?

This is a love song. Why is Mingi writing a love song?

“Don’t read that,” Mingi’s voice projects into the room from a microphone. You look up to see him with the producer, who has come back with Mingi’s schedule. “The lyrics aren’t ready yet. Anyway, we’re free to go now.”

You nod, putting the mic pop filter down on the stand, and carefully walking over the cords on the floor until you reached the exit.

I do like Mingi. But I never thought he’d like me back. Maybe it’s coincidental. Maybe he uses the little catch phrases we share with everyone. Maybe he’s—

“Are you okay?” Mingi asks, his tone catching you by surprise. “You haven’t answered me at all.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You look up at him, your puzzled expression fading from your face.

“I just asked if you were… nevermind.”

You both walk out in silence and out to the parking garage, until you finally reach his car.

The drive home started generally quiet, until he finally spoke up.

“Did you, uh, did you… read anything back in the studio? On those papers?” He mutters out.

“What? Oh, yeah, those papers? I just skimmed them, really,” you blurt out. “I bet it’s a nice song. Is it the producer’s song?”

“No, the producer helps me with other things. The lyrics.. those are mine.”

“Oh,” you don’t have anything else to say.

“Did you… what do you think?” He asks.

“You… you write very pretty,” you whisper.

‘You write very pretty?’ Really? You think to yourself, wanting to say more, but nothing comes out.

“Is that all?” He asks, the sounds of the night highway filling the voided air. “Did you think of anyone when you read them?”

You fall silent. But the pained expression on your face is an emotion you can’t hold in anymore. Suddenly, you hear both him and yourself blurt out—

“Did you think of me?”

Mingi brakes abruptly. “Sorry, sorry!” he waves at the car behind him, who honked loudly and swerved past angrily.

“I’m sorry, Mingi! Focus on your driving! We’ll talk later,” you say.

“No, no, I’m okay!” He blurts out, but he was blushing now, though you couldn’t tell in the dark.

A few seconds pass, the highway sounds drowning out the otherwise quiet air again.

You are the first to speak up. “I did think of you, Mingi.”

He’s driving steady now, but still looks over at you.

“I thought of you, too.” He whispers.

The exit to your neighborhood is nearly approaching. Cars around become less and less. The city lights are becoming brighter, the night sky descending is darker.

“You mentioned the lyrics aren’t finished yet… what is it supposed to be?”

He sighs deeply, contemplating your question before finally answering.

“Perhaps it’s meant to stay unfinished. The emotion of confessing my love to someone… but I don’t know if they feel the same way back. I don’t know if they do.”

“Have you ever tried to confess, Mingi?”

“No, and I don’t know if I want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he whispers. “I don’t know if… it could ruin the good friendship we already have. What if they don’t feel the same way?”

You smile. “You’ll never know until you ask. And if it’s not the answer you want, at least you were bold enough to try. That in itself is admirable.”

He smiled. “You have a point.”

A red light approaches, and the car comes to a stop. There are no other cars in sight, but for a while, you both sit in quietness, waiting for the moment the light turns green.

In that moment, Mingi’s right hand comes off the steering wheel. He places it, palm-up, on top of the center compartment. His palm opens, turning towards you.

You look down, a grin slowly spreading across your blushing face. You lift your left hand, wrap it under his arm, and place your hand gently on top of his.

Your fingers interlock naturally, both hands molding perfectly in place into one another. He caresses his thumb against the side of yours. In this very moment, you can feel the shifting of emotions in the air.

“I know how to end my lyrics now,” Mingi whispers.

And suddenly, the light turns green.

more ateez here: yunho hongjoong san jongho

#ateez mingi #ateez angst #ateez gifs #ateez atiny #ateezedit #ateez x reader #mingi fluff #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi imagines #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #mingi fanfic #mingi edits #ateez seonghwa #ateez headcanons #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez jongho #ateez wooyoung #ateez yeosang #ateez hongjoong #ateez boyfriend #kpop imagines #kpop #boyfriend #ateez bf material #mingi boyfriend material #atiny forever

[hearts-hunger]

affection || jake kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Summary: Nothing hurts when you're with Jake.

Pairings: Jake x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, non-graphic smut | Word Count: 1k | Warnings: light talk of depression, non-graphic smut (minors begone!)

A/N: My very first standalone fic for Jake and Sparrow! I hope you like it! ♡

Tick, tick, tick. 

In the darkness of your bedroom, you listened to the quiet sound of Jake’s pocket watch and tried to settle your breathing to the rhythm of it. Usually the sound was soothing, a reminder of the way Jake had filled up the quiet parts of your life and your home with a heartbeat of dependability and comfort. You tried to remind yourself of that now as you listened to the soft coppery music of it, but even its steadiness didn't help quiet the knot of sadness and anxiety in your chest.

You didn't know why you felt like this. Sometimes it just crept up on you, a tangle of feelings that had no explanation or obvious cure. They’d come less frequently with Jake, but nothing could stop them completely; you just had to ride it out, hanging on to what you knew was true, letting it wash over you until it was through.

You turned towards Jake, saw the soft curve of his bare shoulder in the moonlight filtering though the curtains. You didn’t want to wake him; you knew he was tired from a long day at the studio, and he needed his rest. You moved close to him, pressing against his back, wrapping an arm around his waist as you tried to get warm against him.

He moved his hand to rest over yours, holding you securely against him. Even in sleep, he was attuned to you; you felt a sob catch in your chest and rested your head against his back.

“Sparrow.” His voice was gravelly with sleep, soft and soothing. He drew your hand up to rest near his heart.

“Sorry,” you said softly, even as you felt the sting of tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He turned his head towards you a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

“Are you sick?” he asked. “Bad dream?”

You shook your head. “Just...” You felt so guilty for waking him, for not even having an explanation when you did. 

“I don’t know,” you said brokenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face you then, pulling you close, tangling his legs with yours under the blanket.

“You’re crying,” he said, brushing tears from your face. “Are you sad?”

“I guess,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t feel good, Jake.”

He hummed and brushed your hair back from your face. “In your body? Or in your heart?”

You couldn’t help a wobbly little smile, endeared to the simplicity of his questions while he was still half-asleep.

“In my heart,” you said. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He didn't say anything for a few moments, and you’d thought he’d gone back to sleep. You didn’t hold it against him; you knew he was tired, and you knew this didn’t constitute a real crisis that he needed to be awake for. 

Then, with a sleepy sigh, he pulled you close and hugged you tight.

“I think you need a hug, sparrow,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, moving close to him.

You were a little surprised when he pulled away then, and you were confused when he sat up and started to pull up the hem of your sleep shirt.

“It’s like that kangaroo thing,” he said. “We should try that.”

Bemused, you let him ease your shirt off until both of you were in nothing but your underwear.

“What kangaroo thing?” you asked, wondering if he was maybe still asleep.

He lay back next to you and drew you as close as he could, your bare chest against his. His skin was warm and soft, and just the contact made you feel better.

“You know how they do for babies right after they’re born,” he said, running his hand up and down your back. “I think it’s called kangaroo care. Skin-to-skin contact.”

You gave a soft laugh, finally understanding. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“I’m always right,” he said. He kissed your face. “Is it helping?”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You lay like that for a while, chest to chest, listening to the rhythm of each other’s breathing in the quiet of your bedroom. It was intimate, tender, patient; as he knew it would be, it was exactly what you needed. Gentle touches started to wander, and you eventually felt him warm to your touch.

“Jake,” you said mildly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a slight grimace. “Sorry. Ignore it.”

You smiled. “What if I don’t want to ignore it?”

You drew your leg over his thigh and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“We don’t have to,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I wasn’t trying to get frisky when I started this. I just wanted to help.”

“It is helping,” you said softly, pressing your mouth to his in a gentle kiss. It wasn’t what you’d planned either, and you knew his intentions had been innocent, but you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than to be as close to him as you could.

His hands moved lower on your back, trailing between your legs, slow and patient. 

“We can stop any time you want,” he reminded you. “Really, sparrow.”

You kissed him again. “I know. I don’t want you to stop.”

You enjoyed long moments of his touch, warming to your desire, comforted and soothed by the tenderness with which he traced you like a beloved thing. When both of you were completely bare and vulnerable to the other, he moved to hover over you, cradling you close with one hand on the small of your back, tucking you into the protective lee of his body.

“Go slow,” you said.

“Of course, my love.”

He eased into you slowly, patiently, never thinking of himself as he filled you and held you close. You breathed a sigh of relief as he settled, awash in the comfort and familiarity of the feeling of him inside and out.

“Thank you,” you said. You held him close. “I needed this. I needed you.”

He kissed you. “My sweet sparrow. You always have me, you know that.”

He kept you there for a while, waiting patiently for you, telling you how much he loved you, his voice a lullaby. 

“Beautiful,” he said softly, peppering your face with gentle kisses. “You’re so beautiful. I love you, Sparrow.”

“I love you,” you said. You started to move against him, and you loved the way his breath caught.

It was slow and soft and gentle, pleasure cresting with all the tenderness of a wave against a shore. You felt tears come again, your chest tight with love for him, and he brushed them away with a soft touch.

“Don’t cry, sparrow,” he said, his voice soft with compassion. “Are you alright?”

You kissed him, trying to tell him in more than words how much you loved him, how thankful you were for him.

“I’m perfect,” you said. “Thank you for loving me like you do.”

He sighed, relieved and tender for you, kissing you with every gentleness, and his touch eased every bit of the tangle in your chest until all you felt was warmth and safety.

“I love you, Jake,” you said softly.

He kissed you again.

“I love you too, sparrow. More than I could ever tell you.”

(i'll reblog with the taglist tomorrow bc it's late and i'm lazy! <3)

#i've had this idea in my head forever and i liked how it turned out and i hope you do too!! #i like how i always write jake and sparrow being so soft and tender with each other :') #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszk fluff #jake kiszka fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #jake x sparrow #cabin fever fics #maddie writes stuff!

[tempvstas]

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

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Content Warning(s): some angst, leona being emo lol

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Leona Kingscholar

Authors Notes: Hello all, I am not dead, just busy :] Life update, started uni so I've been busy with that, also, bit off more than I could chew so I burned out HARD. Genuinely lost motivation to write. But I do want to get back into the flow of writing. I'll try and fulfill requests(esp the ones sitting in my inbox, sorry to everyone who sent me requests before im not ignoring you i swear 💀) when I can but theres no guarantee. I wanna write what I can and what I want to and atm its Leona :]]. Please enjoy LMAO

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Leona couldn't remember the last time he had felt the warmth of another.

Moonlight filters through the open balcony of his room, a gentle breeze causing the curtains to sway slightly. He can feel your hands curled around his waist, his tail wrapped around your leg respectively. He stares at you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, your soft snores seemingly filling up the room.

Silly Herbivore. He muses, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You're so vulnerable, nestled against his chest. Wholeheartedly clinging onto him as if you were afraid he'd disappear. As he stares at you, he can't help the slight bitterness that wells up in his throat.

Why did you choose him out of everyone? Out of pity? He's never been good enough. The elders and servants back home made that quite obvious enough. He almost laughs out loud at the thought. He would never be good enough, would never be anyone's first choice, and would never put in enough effort because he was just too damn lazy.

A worthless, selfish, arrogant, too prideful for his own good, lazy, a good-for-nothing second prince who will never amount to anything.

Does he even deserve you?

Your slight movements startle him out of his thoughts as he stares down at you, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

"Leona?" You mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Can't sleep? That's unusual," you tease him, shooting him a sleepy grin. Unwittingly, Leona feels the edges of his lips quirk up, "I was planning on it, until you started squirming around," he huffed. You study his face, a frown marring your features. Leona pokes your brow where it's creased, chuckling slightly, "Don't do that, your face will get stuck like that." You scowl at him, "I'm not a kid," you grumble, "Besides you have that look on your face and I'm worried about you."

Leona stares at you, an eyebrow raised, "Mind elaborating on what 'that look' means." You sit up so that you're face to face with him. "You know, that look! When you get all broody and emo, and all 'oh my sevens im so angsty grr'. That look." Leona wrinkles his nose at your wording, "Very funny Herbivore." You continue to stare at him, concern causes your brow to crease even more.

"Leona, what's wrong? I can tell something's up with you. I know you don't like opening up, and that's fine, but you know I'm here for you, right?" You reach over, taking his hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. Leona's breath hitches in his throat for a second, he finds himself shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he finds your gaze trained on his.

Not looking away from him, holding his gaze unwaveringly. Genuine sincerity in your eyes.

"Leona." His ears twitch at the sound of his name being called. Your voice is firm, to get his attention, but soft enough that he doesn't feel the urge to flinch away. He sighs, feeling that you wouldn't let this matter go easily.

"I know you are. If you want the truth, no I'm not fine." Leona grimaces, this feeling of opening himself up was foreign to him. "I'm far from fine. I'm just.....what did I do to deserve you?" His voice breaks a little at the last part, but he continues. "I'm worthless, selfish, arrogant, too prideful for my own good, lazy, a good-for-nothing second prince who will never amount to anything. Compared to Farena or that damned lizard Malleus, I'm nothing. I have nothing. I will never be anything more because I will always be overshadowed by people like them." He takes a second to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I've always had to work hard to earn my keep only for everything to crumble like sand. All my hard work amounting to nothing because someone just so happens to be lucky enough to just be better." His ears flatten against his head out of irritation.

You listen to his words, staying silent. You give him a moment to catch his breath before hesitantly reaching over, pressing a hand to his cheek. Leona flinches, but then leans into your touch after a brief second. "Hey...look at me," you nudge his face so that he's staring at you.

"Look, I will admit you can be selfish, hell sometimes kind of a dick. You irritate me and sometimes I want to strangle you cause you won't let me get to class on time because you won't get off me." You pause, before continuing, "But you are not worthless. And you're not a good-for-nothing second prince. I love you, faults and all. You, Leona Kingscholar, are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me okay? I would go to hell and back for your stinky ass." Leona laughs softly at your nickname for him, leaning more into your hand. "You are worthy. I didn't choose to love you because I felt pity for you, I love you because of who you are. You say that all your hard work crumbles to sand? I've seen you pick yourself back up again. You're passionate about what you're interested in, and even if you won't outwardly say it, I know you care. You're not a saint by any means, far from it. But that's what I love about you. You're flawed and imperfect, and I say that's better than some perfect curated image of who you're supposed to be." You poke his chest to emphasize your point.

"So don't you ever question why I love you okay?" Your thumb brushes over the scar over his left eye, pressing a soft kiss to his eyelid. His eyelashes tickle your face as you do so. "I love you, scars and all. And I'll say it as many times as I need to."

Leona stares at you, a mix of emotions in his gaze. He clears his throat, his tail tugging you closer to him. "Fuck...that was hot," he smirks, leaning in, his nose brushing against yours. "Seriously? I give you this long speech and thats what you have to say?" You roll your eyes playfully, smacking his shoulder lightly. Leona's laughter rumbles in his throat as a hand gently holds onto the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Despite his rough exterior, his kisses are gentle, his lips molding against yours. His other hand finds its way to your waist, holding you in place as you straddle his hips.

The two of you part for air, small gasps can be heard between you. You wrap your arms around his neck as you settle next to him, head nestled in his neck. Leona adjusts his position into a more comfortable one, his chin resting against the top of your head. The two of you lay in silence, the only audible sound being the occasional breeze that ruffles the curtains. Slowly you find yourself falling into the embrace of sleep.

"Herbivore?" You hear his voice above you. "Mhmm?" you mumble sleepily, feeling your eyes drooping.

"....I love you." You smile, hearing his words, before drifting off.

Ensuring that you're asleep, Leona leans over, kissing your forehead, watching your sleeping face. "....Thank you for being in my life.....and for not giving up on me," he whispers, before settling against you and drifting off himself.

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#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #ashers writing #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #disney twst #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x you #YALL DONT UNDERSTAND THE CHOKEHOLD THIS MAN HAS ON ME #I LOVE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH #IF HE WAS A CHEW TOY I WOULD THROW HIM AROUND(affectionate) #GRRR CURSE YOU LEONA KINGSCHOLAR #anyways im not dead guys hello #im so normal about him

[genericpuff]

On this week's episode of "Webtoon Controversies That Could Have Been Avoided If Only They Had Some Damn Quality Control"-

Oh boy, prepare yourselves, there's some TEA on this one.

Quantum Entanglement, a new Webtoon Originals series from creator Arts Angel (aka Sarah Ellerton) is uh... a teeny weeny painfully obvious that it was made with AI.

AI is getting better, but when it comes to comics, there are still a lot of "tells" you can pick up on once you know where to look. Hands are certainly one of them.

Not knowing how to draw hands efficiently and consistently is definitely an Artist Problem(tm) but it becomes a lot more obvious it was made by AI when you get weird little off-putting mistakes like a fingernail being just a little too long or missing joints (hot dog fingers, eyo) or the distinction between fingers not being clear.

But there's also hair and other detailed parts that are often lost in the translation process between prompt to final piece. Jewelry, text on a screen, phones, that sort of thing. The insinuation of a 'thing' is there, but it's like looking at it through a fishbowl.

And ultimately, a lot of AI art tends to just be a little too 'perfect'. Everything is just a little too smooth for it to look like it was naturally made by a person. Faces end up veering into the uncanny valley territory and there are inconsistencies between the eyes and the rest of the body. Backgrounds become lost in what I like to call "AI goop", becoming nothing more than weird blurred/filtered out insinuations of what's supposed to be behind the character.

Basically, at this point, it's undeniably clear that AI is being used to create this comic. While there are also plenty of signs in the handiwork that show a human was involved in some parts, there are other places that are undeniably filled in with the use of AI. So it's not necessarily a 100% made-by-AI comic, but it's absolutely AI assisted.

But what's REALLY absurd about this whole situation? The creator denies it. To the point of including a disclaimer in the first episode trying to "get ahead" of people who are assuming it's AI by saying, "No, it's not made with AI, here's the proof! Don't look at the blood on my hands or the body in the trunk of my car!"

Now, first off, the absolute absurdity of making yourself look guiltier by trying to prove your innocence before people have even started to suspect you... I'd like to think that this was edited into the first episode after the initial accusations started rolling in but considering it's an Originals series, it's hard to know if it was, as creators typically don't get as much control over just editing their episodes on the fly like Canvas creators do. Typically it's their editors who do that sort of thing for them. And even if it was edited in afterwards, it's still there for people who have no idea going into the comic blind and might not automatically assume it was made with AI, so it just looks like you're bringing up the potential of AI being used completely unprovoked. By planting the idea in your audience's brain that AI is even a question, you're making them suspect everything.

It's kind of like when Dream was suspected of cheating in a way-too-lucky-to-be-real speedrun of Minecraft a couple years back, so he went to all these painstaking efforts of hiring a quantum physicist to "prove" his innocence with a straight up THESIS documenting all of the reasons he couldn't have cheated through math and figures and jargon. Ironically, this just made Dream look guiltier, and sure enough, he eventually admitted he had cheated.

That said, did you notice something in that "art process" pic?

That finished panel isn't even what showed up in the final comic.

So the absurdity of this all, again, just makes Arts Angel look a lot more guilty of actually using AI, especially when it's basically undeniable in so many of those panels above. People don't paint like that.

But that brings us to talking about Sarah Ellerton, aka "Arts Angel", the creator. Many long-time readers of her work are defending this, claiming that she has, in fact, "always drawn like this".

What's insane? She actually is who she says she is. This isn't like some kid who came out of the woodwork with AI and claiming that they had 20 years of experience, Sarah Ellerton's main site, The Seraph-Inn, has been live and crawled by Wayback Machine as far back as 2005.

And you can see the art evolution over the years, starting with Inverloch-

-into Phoenix-

-and all the way to Immaterial-

But here's the thing about that last comic. The main protagonist is, apparently, the same girl from Quantum Entanglement, the newest installment in this series where it becomes abundantly clear the creator has started using AI.

You can see the effects of this being parsed through AI, because she's gone from being a unique character with two-toned hair and darker skin, to being turned into a generic Instagram anime girl. And lemme tell you, AI used in comics has NOT gotten better at depicting darker-skinned characters (I actually tested an AI-coloring tool WT was planning on putting out a year or two ago, it was uh... not great.)

But the most damning thing about Sarah?

She works in IT.

That on its own wouldn't be so telling if it weren't for the 20 years she clearly spent actually honing her craft, only to suddenly switch to using AI as a crutch.

Quantum Entanglement was picked up for Originals in July 2023. It launched two days ago, with four free to read episodes and 6 more under the FastPass paywall. Three months after it got picked up. That turnaround speed is insane for an Originals series. Now, I'm more inclined to believe that maybe she's using the exact same pages she used in the Canvas version (there's unfortunately no way of checking through Wayback, it never crawled the Canvas version, so unless someone has backups of the Canvas pages they're willing to share, we'll never know) but that short turnaround time is insane for a comic that's this insanely detailed. It likely means they didn't need much pre-production time to get a strong buffer going, and that it doesn't take them as long to produce these episodes on a weekly basis so they could be under way less crunch than creators who do this by hand.

By comparison, the winners of the Call to Action contest from last year are STILL working on their pre-production. Many other greenlit Canvas series are known for getting picked up and stuck in pre-production for several months and even a year or more simply due to how the company operates with when it chooses to launch these series and how much pre-production is necessary. Some creators have literally said that their pre-production was done, but WT still kept them waiting to launch. So three months for a freshly greenlit Canvas series to launch is NOT the norm.

All that said, I feel for the people who are trying to defend her. But it's so undeniably AI with the creator herself providing fake proof that it makes it really sad to think that this person was honing their craft for 20 years just to wind up utilizing AI. Being a good artist does not make you immune to the temptation of using cheap methods or developing bad habits. Going through "the struggle" does not make you immune to taking shortcuts that wind up cheapening your work or taking advantage of the work of others.

Now, maybe Sarah trained AI around her art. If this didn't play out the way it did, I'd be willing to give her benefit of the doubt and assume that. Training AI off your own work, while still up for debate as to how ethical that is, at least doesn't hurt other artists, because it's your own work the AI is "stealing". There are definitely ways AI could be used to make life easier for artists without replacing the art process entirely, the same way artists have learned to use 3D assets and digital art filters to make their process more efficient and boost the quality of their art up to the next level.

But the fact that she's being so cagey over it, claiming she's not using AI period when she very clearly is, providing "proof" that actually proves she definitely used AI, while operating under a penname that's strangely similar to a name Grimes - former tech wife of Elon Musk and staunch supporter of AI - used for one of her studio albums-

- that's what makes it a lot more clear she's using it maliciously.

The AI is very likely trained off another artist's work. Maybe someone whose art style is similar enough to hers that she could integrate it into her own and pass it off as legitimate. Someone whose art style is cartoonish but still modern, like if Disney made anime. Someone who's so prolific and consistent in their stylization that training an AI off it would seem like a no brainer to those who want to replicate that style quickly and easily.

Damn. What a disappointment. Do better, Sarah.

And for god's sakes, Webtoons, pay more fucking attention. I've been steadily picking away at moving the entirety of my comics over to other platforms on a weekly schedule, but at this point I kinda just wanna dump the last 30 or so chapters onto ComicFury all at once so I can ditch this platform for good, especially if it turns out AI comics getting greenlit is a feature, not a bug. The ratings for Quantum Entanglement have dropped significantly overnight, now sitting around 5.09 and still dropping, but is Webtoons going to do anything about it? That remains to be seen.

#webtoon critical #anti AI #quantum entanglement #quantum entanglement webtoon #webtoon controversy

[munsonslove]

Make It Up to You (part 2)

(18+ only) (read part 1 here)

summary: After Eddie’s van stalls when he tries to leave your party, you invite him to stay the night.

wordcount: 3.7k 

tags/warnings: fem!virgin!sub!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), softdom!Eddie, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, praise kink, dacryphilia, teasing, begging, p in v penetration, use of pet names (baby, babygirl, pretty girl, sweetheart, good girl), degradation (use of slut, Eddie calls reader desperate and pathetic... he means it in the most loving way though I swear), no use of y/n

a/n: sorry it took me like a month to post this. i’m what the kids like to call mentally ill.

“I want to make you cum, too,” you proclaim as you slide your hand down his abdomen until you reach his boxers and lightly graze his bulge.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he says, taking your chin in his hand and pulling you into a slow kiss. “We’re not done yet. Just letting you have a little breather.”

—

Eddie lays flat on his back with his hands behind his head as you cuddle into his side, your own head resting atop his chest. Your leg is bent with a knee thrown over his lap, thigh just underneath his still clothed and hard cock, your bare center settled snugly against the side of his pelvis and leaving a wet spot on the seam of his boxers. The minutes tick by, and despite the fact that you’re still recovering from the most Earth shattering orgasm you’ve had to date, the desire for Eddie to just use you for what he needs grows more and more with the slow passage of time. He, however, exhibits an excellent level of patience and a determined resolve to wait out your refractory period, much to your bitter annoyance. Soon, he begins to laugh softly, and confusion clouds your mind until you realize you had subconsciously began grinding into his side. 

“Getting impatient, pretty girl?” he asks with a raised brow, his fingertips slowly trailing up the arm splayed across his chest and sending a tingle of goosebumps across your heated skin.

“You need to finish too,” you insist.

“Now, don’t go thinking I didn’t enjoy myself, I’ve been wanting to hear the sweet little sounds you make with my mouth on your clit for a long time,” he assures you with half lidded eyes and a soft smile. “To be honest, if it took you any longer to finish I probably would’ve came in my boxers.”

Hearing this confession spoken so casually but with such a lustful tone erased whatever small shreds of shame persisted alongside your willpower. “Please Eds, I’m ready,” you begged, nails leaving behind small white lines on his skin as you scratched at his rib cage. “I’m ready for you.”

The bastard laughs. “I know, I know,” he says as he maneuvers you onto your back and sits up. “This pretty little pussy’s been waiting for me for a while, huh?” With his hands on your knees he pulls apart your thighs, and once they’re spread as wide apart as they comfortably can be, he starts rubbing at your clit again. This time, however, he’s careful to not lift your hood, so the pleasure remains dulled. He continues his questioning over your moaning, “Been dreaming of being filled up by me for months, hasn’t it? Craving me?”

“Try years,” you correct without thinking. Under normal circumstances you would have never confessed such an embarrassing detail, no matter how true. The haze from your previous orgasm was still lingering, and this (coupled with the return of his masterful touch to your swollen clit) turned off the filter between your brain and mouth.

This answer throws Eddie off, his hand stilling and his devious expression being replaced by one of bewilderment. The gears turning in his head are practically audible, and it’s obvious that he’s trying to decipher whether or not he heard correctly. Once he’s certain he’s understood your words properly, his eyes search yours for traces of dishonesty. You don’t even bother opposing his doubt, knowing your own expression would betray you. As much as it’s humiliating that you’ve admired him from afar for so long despite only knowing him as a friend for such a brief amount of time, it’s still undeniably true.

“Oh sweetheart,” he croons sympathetically, “why did you wait so long to say something?” He doesn’t allow any time for an answer. Instead, he climbs on top of you and kisses you fiercely. 

The passion of the kiss momentarily distracts from the stiffness poking into the soft flesh of your thigh, but when he repositions himself so that he’s hitting you directly where you ache for him most, it becomes impossible to ignore. Eddie breaks away, rolling off to stand at the side of the bed. Instinctively, your eyes follow him and are drawn directly to his hard on. The spot where the head of his cock is straining against the fabric is soaked wet, a mix of his precum and your juices from rutting up on you. Your mouth waters at the sight, your walls clenching around nothing.

“I’m gonna give you what you deserve,” he promises as he feels around your floor with his feet before finding and picking up his discarded jeans. “You deserve to feel good, after how good you’ve been for me. After how patient you’ve been for me.” The look he gives you portrays the arousal he understandably feels, but also sheer determination. He wants you to believe the words he’s saying. From the jeans’ pocket, he pulls out a small bundle of condoms, probably about three or four.

“Are you prepared all of the time?” you ask, a little self consciously. Small trickles of jealousy flood in the pit of your diaphragm, the image of Eddie in the dark with mysterious shaded forms. You try to no avail to remind yourself he’s not your boyfriend, that he’s not tied down by exclusivity, but that doesn’t extinguish the flames of envy.

“Uh, no,” he mutters, “Not all the time. Just when- well…” The powerful confidence he’s been showcasing thus far slips away, and is replaced by a meek unsureness.

“Just when…?” you egg on, the unmistakable butterflies of hope replacing the doubt in your stomach.

The sun is just beginning to rise, and though it’s still fairly dark you’re able to make out his arm raising in the dim light filtering in through the window. He rubs at his cheek, and you almost feel foolish as you wonder if the man who reduced you to tears and had you wavering all control was the same as the one blushing in front of you.

“Just when I know I’ll see you,” he finally finishes, eyes avoiding yours.

“Oh,” you breathe out, a little frailly. “So you were always pretty sure something would happen, then?”

He shrugs, still looking away. “I’d say it was less confidence something would happen, and more hopefulness that I’d get over my nerves and make a move.”

“You?” you snicker out. “You were nervous?”

“Don’t make fun of me, you just fully admitted to having a who-knows-how-many years long crush on me!” he accuses, and the reminder clamps your mouth shut for you. His gaze once again finds yours, this time with a quirked brow as you witness his mischievous attitude return. “Am I gonna have to give you a punishment?”

The question has your thighs squeezing together, an action that does not go unmissed by the half naked man standing in front of you, but you decide to shelf that curiosity for later. “Another time,” you answer, “Right now I need you.” You take the roll out of his hands, tearing one of the squares off and biting the foil open with your teeth. Crumbling up the trash and tossing it- along with the excess condoms- onto your carpet, you hold the lubricated rubber in between your thumb and index finger as you stare at him with wide eyes.

He says nothing while watching you hurriedly tearing into the packaging, but you’re pretty certain the twitch you saw inside his boxers wasn’t just your imagination. “Okay, sweetheart,” he winks at you after he leans down and gives you one last chaste peck, “Get ready to have your world rocked.”

The cockiness should have had you rolling your eyes. And it would have, but him hooking his thumbs into the elastic of his underwear mid-sentence and pushing them down had entranced you. His dick flopped up against his stomach. It was framed by the backdrop of his soft looking happy trail and lit in the faint glow of the gentle sunrise.

“Can I… return the favor? Before we…?” you trail off, not sure how to properly ask to give your high school crush a blow job before he fucks your brains out.

He smirks and takes the condom from you, pinching the tip and positions it on his head. “Another time. Right now I need you,” he says, mimicking your words from earlier. Before he can start rolling it down, you shove his hands away. You grip his shaft just above his balls, and hold it steady as you make a fist around his head. Using downward strokes, you pump him until you feel the rubber rim roll far enough to meet your other hand, then release your grasp so it can unravel the remainder of the way down. As you’re doing this, Eddie takes either side of your shoulders and holds them tight.

Once the condom is all the way in place, his grip on your shoulders leads you backwards onto the bed. Laying you down, he positions himself slightly raised above, supported on one side by knee and elbow. His other arm disappears between the two of you as he looks down to take his cock in his hand and position it between your lower lips. Some of his curly brown hair sticks to the back of his neck due to the sweat he’s worked up, but the rest of it cascades down his awestruck face. The tips of it tickle your cheeks, and your fingers brush their way into the slightly damp locks. He sighs when he feels your nails scrape his scalp. 

You expect him to get right into it, but instead he catches your attention with a quiet, “Hey,” first. Your gaze refocuses from the view in between you both back to his eyes. “If you want me to stop at any time for any reason, just let me know. I won’t be upset.”

With a slight head tilt, you feel your face contort into confusion. “But I won’t want to-“

“Sure, sure,” he cuts you off. “But it’s still your first time, so if something doesn’t feel quite right, or if I say something you’re not a hundred percent on board with, just let me know, okay?”

“But I won’t want to stop,” you insist. “I want you to fuck me, Eddie Munson.”

He chuckles at your use of his full name. “We don’t have to stop,” he reassures you. “We can slow down, or take a break-” he rubs the head of his cock through your folds, making you squirm, “- or I could make you cum with my mouth again, warm you up some more.” You nod your head while your fist tightens in his curls. “I’m gonna need a verbal response, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna be a good girl?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, an answer to both his request and his question. “I promise I’ll let you know if you do something I don’t like.”

He kisses your hairline. “I’m gonna push in now. Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. Briefly, you debate making a joke about his overconfidence, but after seeing all of him you’ve become acutely aware that it being ‘too much’ is a very real possibility. He lines up with your entrance, and the feeling of his head poking your pulsating hole has you holding a breath in anticipation. “Breathe, babygirl,” he reminds you. “It’ll make it easier if you relax.”

“Sorry,” you instantly apologize. For what you’re not sure, but you feel the need to be submissive, so it comes out without warning. It’s only when you try regulating your breathing that you realize you’ve squeezed your eyes shut, and bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to leave indents. Eddie leans down and kisses the marks gently before resting his forehead on yours. His chin tucks into his neck and he looks down, watching himself disappear as he enters into you.

He goes slow, and the moan you release sounds somehow even more obscene than the ones from your previous orgasm. After years of nothing but imagination and fantasies, you at last knew how perfect he feels buried deep inside your cunt. You’re in such euphoria that you forget to be embarrassed by how easily he’s able to slide in given your slick arousal. His balls press against your butt, his pubic hair tickling the delicate and rarely touched skin.

“I bet it feels nice after waiting so long, hm?” he says after bottoming out, the teasing humor now absent. He’s not mocking you, he’s truly asking.

“Yes,” you respond honestly. “It’s so good to have your cock inside me.”

“Tell me about it,” he demands. Before tonight, a request like that might have made you scoff. His usual sarcastic demeanor would have led you to believe he was just joking, but he’s made it more than clear by this point that when he gives an order he expects you to follow through. “Tell me what you like.”

Even though it’s getting increasingly difficult to think with every second, the urge to make him proud is too strong. The craving to obey forces you to answer. “I like how big you are, how you stretch me. I like how I can feel you so, so deep. I like how you’re touching me where no one’s ever touched me before. I like how- Oh,” suddenly, he’s even deeper, his balls pressed against you even harsher. Your gasp cut you off, but he’s staring at you expectantly, challengingly. With all your might, you attempt to reboot your brain enough to supply a coherent response. “How I can feel the ridges,” you finish your thought from earlier. And finally, “I like how you’re not trying to hurt me, but it still hurts a little bit.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he says as he kisses gently at the space between your furrowed brows. “I’ll go slow, yeah?”

“You can go f-fast,” you interject with a wavering voice, ignoring the roller coaster in your stomach at the thought. The intensity would surely be too much for you to handle, seeing as you were already a crying mess before any overstimulation. Nevertheless, you persist, “If you want to, if you n-need to. You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Believe me, I will,” he promises. “Later though. We have all the time in the world. I’m gonna be gentle for our first time.” The guarantee of this happening again, of a future, causes you to subconsciously clench around him. He groans as his eyes squeeze shut and his forehead falls onto yours. “Are you ready for me to move, babygirl?”

You nod rapidly. “Words, remember? Use your words like a good girl does,” he chastises. “Are you ready to be mine?”

You know you’re already his, both within the confines of this bed- this night- and outside. His taking charge aroused you, and even comforted you through your first-time-anxiety, but even without the domination you know you would still belong to him. You take a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m ready.”

With no hesitation, he begins his steady yet gentle pace. The foreign sliding of skin happening inside you is uncomfortable in a way that makes your mouth water- awkward in a way that makes you want more. The high pitched creaking of your old bed frame has never sounded so appealing. He pulls out of you slowly, not stopping until he’s nearly all the way unsheathed, then pushes back in while angling up. The calculated movements are allowing him to reach a spot inside you never before reached, and even before his fifth stroke your eyes are already rolling into the back of your head. An embarrassingly short amount of time passes before that familiar tightness returns to your stomach, twisting your insides in a bordering on unbearably pleasurable way. You want to hold back, play it off like you’re not about to have your second orgasm so quickly, but your mouth has a mind of its own.

“Oh my god, Eds,” you moan, “Oh, Eddie.”

“Doing so well, taking me so well. Sound so pretty saying my name like that,” he compliments between his own moans. “You say it like that when you’re touching yourself?” The question makes you blush and turn your head to the side, avoiding his eyes. He takes either side of your cheeks roughly in one hand, your lips puckering out from the pressure as he forces you to face him again. “I asked you a question,” he says expectantly.

“Y- yes,” you manage to answer weakly with his hand still gripping your face. Most of your concentration is focused on not finishing too soon.

Foolishly, you believed you were doing a good job at hiding the effect he had on you. It should come as no surprise that he saw through you like glass. “You’re going to cum already? We just started,” he mocks.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. In their place are just more desperate groans and grunts.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. I know your brain was empty the second you first got my fat cock inside you. It’s hard to talk while stuffed full of me, huh? Can’t think of anything but how bad you need my dick.” With this, he releases his grasp on your cheeks and lowers his hand to start rubbing at your clit with no remorse. You writhe underneath him, your hips rocking in time with him to meet his every thrust. “I didn’t know you were such a desperate fucking slut. You want to? You want me to make you cum?”

“I’m going to,” you warn, “I’m gonna cum, Eddie. You’re gonna make me-“

“I don’t remember giving you permission,” he cuts you off with a taunt, his rhythm never faltering. “Good girls cum when they’re told. But maybe I’ll decide to be nice if you say please.”

“Please! Please, please, please!” you call out. It’s a good thing no one else is home, because you’ve never been this loud before while alone, not even with your favorite and filthiest fantasies of Eddie.

“Look at you, begging so pretty,” he says while chuckling. How he’s able to find amusement in the situation when you feel like your heart is about to give out is beyond you. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight. You wanna cum real bad, don’t you?”

“Please Eds,” you futilely try one more time. “I- I can’t take it!”

“Oh, but you can,” he insists with a grunt. His speed picks up slightly, both the gyrating of his hips and the circling of your clit. The sounds of wet skin slapping against skin are muffled by your hopeless sobbing. “You can and will take anything I give you, or there’ll be consequences. Oh look, you’re crying again.” Only after hearing this comment do you register the wetness pooling in your eyes and streaming down the sides of your temples. “So desperate to cum on my cock, so greedy. It’s all you need, huh? You don’t even care how pathetic it’s making you right now.”

“I’ll do anything, please. Please, Eddie!” you cry out, the overwhelming need to orgasm making you so unabashed that you’re okay with practically groveling. He’s slamming into you with quite the force now. Your arms tighten around his shoulders and your legs end up wrapped around his waist as his movements grow frantic, his own climax sneaking up on him fast.

“You’ll do anything?” he asks.

“Anything,” you confirm.

He smiles at you, almost too warmly for the vile things he’s saying and doing to your body at the moment. “Say you’re mine.”

You don’t even need to think about it. The answer would be the same whether you were on the verge of orgasm or not. “I’m yours.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His voice breaks so beautifully, as if hearing you promise yourself to him was healing. Like he was dehydrated and malnourished, and your admission was water and bread. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nose digging into your collarbone in a manner that would be uncomfortable had you not been so distracted. “You’re so perfect for me. Cum, baby. I need to feel you cum, please.” For all the big game he talked, in the end he somehow became the one begging.

The coil finally exploded causing spasms and tremors to take over your body. Electricity flows through you, rushing from your center to the top of your head and tips of your curling toes. You cling to Eddie so tightly that your arms start tingling as they go numb. “It’s so much,” you manage to whimper out, and you push his fingers away from your sensitive cunt. His hand moves underneath your back as he cradles you closer to himself.

“I know,” he hums into you, his lips tickling your skin. The thrusting has died down into slow grinding, just slightly rocking back and forth as he’s buried deep inside you. You feel his cock twitching as he releases into the condom. The noises coming from him make it clear the subtle movements are overstimulating him, but he seems dead set on helping you to ride out your high for as long as possible. “Me too,” he whispers as his head turns to kiss away the salty tears streaming down your face, “me too.”

Your mind feels too hazy for you to respond, an inescapable clouding of your senses is overtaking any brain functionality. The elbow supporting him gives out and his full weight falls on top of you, his body heat touching every inch of your skin. This effectively pins you down, ceasing your squirming and bringing your hips (that were previously meeting his every thrust) flush to the mattress. He finally stops rocking himself into you, but doesn't pull out from your warmth, his cock remains buried deep as if he has no plans of leaving soon. What he does do, is lift his head and rub his nose to yours, lips just barely brushing.

“Gimme like, twenty minutes,” he murmurs against your mouth, “We can use another one of those condoms.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

[extraordinarybennyyy]

marvellous time ruining everything

pedro pascal x reader

tw: none

"Am I fat?" 

The compelling, indisputable and unambiguous question left the Chilean actor speechless, his dark eyes darting between you and your reflection in the mirror. Your long skirt billowed around your ankles, swollen belly carrying the bloom of your everlasting love, light glinting on your earrings.  Such a glowing and dazzling creature, yet heartless for letting him face a question without a proper, right answer. Femme fatale. 

A bomb unleashing a war.

Pedro stopped drinking from the straw, tasting the green juice on his lips. The rays of the Sun filtered through the window curtains of Oscar's house, creating a picture of shadows and lights as if you were a famous painting, a Mona Lisa. 

His heart was beating fast both from how charming you looked, glowing and shining with the child inside you and from the question still lingering inside the room, like a dark cloud threatening the weather. 

"Pedro?"

"¿Qué?"  He pursued his lips and started drinking his juice once again nonchalantly, even if the box was already empty. An image of his mind at that moment, one could say.

"I asked you something."

"Umh."

You swivel around to face him, hands anchored to your hips, stars shining in your eyes. The hair framing your features perfectly fell on your shoulders like Niagara's falls, your painted lips shaping that question once more. Pedro felt like a kid in trouble, his mind processing an excuse to get out of the terrible situation. 

Of course you had gained a little bit of weight. It was reasonable and obvious, the opposite would have been weird and left him as a worrying mess. And, of course, it didn't mean that he loved you less. Pedro loved you, the essence of you,  the feeling of you. He would have loved you in every shape and form, worshiping you like a goddess. He would have even loved you if you were a worm, as he told you countless times to answer your weird question.

However - 

Pedro had learnt the lesson the hard way. A few months back before even knowing you were pregnant- which seemed like years and years ago, he had noticed your little weight gain and roundness when you complained about clothes not fitting in anymore. Inconsolable tears and sobs filled the house for the entire day and more, the ticket for an unwanted concert. 

That's why that question weighed a little bit more than others. What was he supposed to do? Lie and make you happy or tell you the truth and face the aftermath of it? It sounded like the stupid games his nieces made him play sometimes, where he always ended up choosing the wrong thing. Like that time he wanted  Eric the asshole to be nice and heroic but Pedro eventually let him die while falling  into the void. 

Your expectant eyes were still looking at him, both hands on your belly. White lies are good ones, like candies, he told himself, and the last thing he wanted was seeing you cry. And unleash a bomb. 

That's why he raised his head confidently, acting lessons helping him go through it, a little shaky breath leaving his lips before actually answering. "No." 

An unreadable and indecipherable expression portrayed on your face. You were a lock and he was the adventurous archeologist who had to find the code to open it. Pedro felt like Indiana Jones for a brief moment and was ready to flash you a smile to give strength to his statement, when-

Out of nowhere, like the annoying know-it-all first of the class child telling the teachers everything the others did, muppet-like Oscar Isaac  appeared behind Pedro's left shoulder, uttering his non-requested opinion. "You hesitated." 

The bomb exploded.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x pregnant reader #Pedro #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro x you #pedro x reader

[mc-lukanette]

The world was so loud. It was still loud, and Luka had gotten tired of explaining to people when they asked what he meant just to look at him like he was crazy afterward.

The simple explanation was that Luka experienced the world through music. He saw potential melodies in his environment and people always gave off their own particular tune. The latter was what made his life difficult, given that he didn't have any control over whether or not he heard them. It was just something he had to adjust to.

But if there was one thing Luka hated, it was a fake person: someone who behaved one way but was another inside. He remembered when he started to dye his hair and paint his nails, back when people would say that they liked it but the song he would hear was filled with displeasure over his choice of appearance.

As such, he had few friends in life. There just weren't many people he could trust to be fully honest with him without him pointing out that they weren't.

Not having friends also meant that he had no reason not to attend events with his rock star mother, Anarka Couffaine, though he would've happily come to show his support and approval of her anyway despite the atmosphere. Events and parties like the one he'd shown up for that very day were often filled with detestable people only out for money and had zero interest in the actual well-being of any clients.

He did his best to filter them out.

"Luka," Anarka whispered, leaning down and wrapping an arm around him. With her other arm, she pointed to a man across the room dressed in white and pink, noting, "that's Bob Roth. Remember him?"

One listen of the man made Luka roll his eyes, though smiling at the memory. "He offered you a contract when I was little and you threw him overboard."

"Aye." She stood up, her toothy smirk putting even sharks to shame as she called out, "Roth! Gone swimmin' lately?"

Bob turned around to look, Luka grinning as well at the way his face paled upon seeing her. One could practically see the memories flooding his mind, his face turning red with a mixture of shame and anger as he stormed off.

Anarka sighed as if having just come out of meditative therapy, giving Luka a nudge. "You haven't lived until you've thrown a scallywag overboard."

She didn't give much advice even as a mom, but he considered that one was a keeper. He would've liked to have done it himself had he not been so small at the time.

"Nanarky!" another equally non-subtle voice called from afar. "Chased away Bob again?"

Luka turned along with his mother to see Jagged Stone approaching, and had to suppress a big smile. He'd always been a big fan of Jagged's music - pure and untouched by anyone but Jagged himself - and since Jagged and Anarka were friendly rivals, they often met up at events.

"Hey," Anarka commented as Jagged walked up to them, "it's the first mate of rock and roll!"

"First mate?!" Jagged recoiled, a hand to his chest in dramatic fashion. "I'm the captain of this ship!"

"Ha! I can play circles around ya." She leaned towards him, flicking at the Eiffel Tower glasses near the top of his head. "Nice glasses, by the way."

Luka chuckled. They made for a fun duet together as well.

At the mention of the new glasses, Jagged's demeanor changed entirely. He beamed, bringing them down to his eyes properly. "Right? Got a young up-and-coming designer to make 'em for me."

"Young unlike you, ya sea dog," Anarka quipped.

Jagged turned his head away while pretending not to have heard her, though the pout on his face was obvious. Snapping his fingers, he called out, "Hey, frockstar! C'mere and meet the background musician!"

"Why I oughta—"

Luka heard the melody before the footsteps, though it was still a stark contrast to the ones belonging to both Jagged and Anarka. A teenage girl - certainly no older than him - came to Jagged's side, peeking up at him with a smile before being promptly squished against his side.

"Hello," she said, somewhat strained until Jagged let her go and gave her an affirming pat on the shoulder. She shyly bowed her head to Anarka. "I'm—

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" Jagged interrupted, looking all too eager to talk about her. Luka raised a brow, impressed by the amount of pride bursting out of each note on his song. "She's gonna design my new album, Rock Giant!"

"W-wha—?!" Marinette stared up at Jagged with a look that implied she very much had not heard about that yet.

"Nice to meet ya, lass," Anarka greeted. "I'm Anarka Couffaine."

"Oh!" Marinette gaped at her. "I know exactly who you are! I'm a big fan!"

"That right?" she asked, and Luka could see the glint in her eyes that she was about to start up their rivalry again. Thankfully, introducing him took priority, so she opted instead to say, "Well, then y'should know that this is my son, Luka."

Their eyes locked for the first time. Luka didn't necessarily need eye contact to get a feel for a person, but it helped. He was intrigued: her song was an entire mix of emotions both positive and negative, none of which she seemed to be hiding. There was an extra spark of curiosity and awe in her at actually taking him in - likely because he was the son of someone she admired - though he supposed the normal thing to do would be to politely—

"Wow, you're so handsome!"

Luka felt his cheeks heat up, completely thrown off by the blunt comment. Anarka and Jagged, though equally stunned for a moment, suddenly looked incredibly invested in this. They glanced back and forth between the two, waiting to see what might happen next.

As he was formulating a proper response, Marinette's words caught up with her. Her face turned even redder than his and her tune was all over the place. She turned away and tried to make a break for the buffet table to hide underneath the tablecloth, only for Jagged to hurry after her and pull her back.

"Nanarky," he said with a mischievous tone, tilting his head down and lowering his glasses to look at her. "What do you say to a little music battle, just the two of us?"

Anarka reflected his look back at him. "In the middle of this namby-pamby party? ...You're on."

Then the two were off, true party crashers even when they're already invited, and simultaneously leaving him alone with Marinette.

"I-I'm so sorry," she whined, rubbing at her face in embarrassment. "It's just—it seems like I always say the first thing that's on my mind, and the first thing I noticed was that you have nice eyes?"

His blush wasn't going away, that was for sure.

"Uhm!" She flailed. "I mean, not that you have nice eyes—well you do, but I don't mean nice as in nice even if they are nice." She huffed at herself, pounding her fist against her palm and clearly seeking a specific word. "...Kind! You have kind eyes!"

"Thanks," Luka managed after taking a deep breath, Marinette having just been upgraded from intriguing to absolutely adorable in his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it slightly. "You can be honest with me, Marinette. I won't think it's strange. It's better, actually."

"Better?" She stared like she thought he was the strange one. "...A-ah! I know, here!"

She opened the tote bag at her side and reached in, digging around until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a CD and offered it to him, Jagged's signature prominent on the front.

"This is..." Luka gaped, taking it from her hands.

"One of Jagged's albums, signed by Jagged himself," Marinette stated proudly. "He said he'd personally sign any album I wanted, and of course I picked this. It's—"

"—the best one," he chimed in along with her, perking up at the sound of their voices speaking in unison.

She grinned, delighted. "Yes! You get it! I've asked every Jagged fan I know and none of them picked it!"

Luka, always one to return a gift, reached into his own bag and pulled out one of his mother's albums, also signed by her. He always kept at least one thing she'd signed in his bag as an extra - if private - show of support. "Here. It's—"

"—the best one!"

——

Naturally, they exchanged numbers soon after that, just before going on to watch the "rock battle" together. Luka had people he knew like his mother and Jagged Stone who spoke their minds without fear, but Marinette was a unique case. He couldn't quite put it into words - that's what he had his guitar for - but an attempt would incline him to say that it was a deceptively simple song upon first listen yet was so powerful as just to pour out of her when she opened her mouth. He could even see it in the way she moved, fidgeting and bouncing with energy while they'd listened to the energetic music.

She was also the first one to blurt out that she thought he was handsome and had kind eyes at their first meeting, so an unforgettable first impression if there were ever any. He was a little discouraged by the idea of texting her, where it wasn't as likely for her to just say whatever she was thinking. Still, he was fine waiting for her to warm up to him if need be.

Oh! You play guitar?

Guitar and violin, yeah.

I'd love to hear you play sometime! I'm free for you! I MEAN FREE TODAY!!

Luka let out a laugh. He didn't have to worry after all.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[therobotmonster]

From the British Video Games that seem made up post. I'm certain the reblog was mostly joking, and I've anonymized the poster because this isn't about their post in particular, it's just a very illustrative setup for a point I've been wanting to make for awhile.

To be clear, every game in that thread was real, you can track down ROMs, there's screenshots. References going back into previous decades.

But as to the idea that text is a trustable AI tell?

While the people-using-the-tech-as-a-toy (not a criticism) and newbies in the plastic-wrap-and-lens-flare phase (if you were around for early photoshop, you know what I mean) might lead you to think otherwise, I assure you, AI gens are just JPGs and PNGs.

Photoshop works on 'em just fine.

(Each image/panel above consists of numerous gens composited, edited, decolored, reinked, and recolored/lettered from the ground up)

And inpainting and iteration allow for multiple stabs at a readable result. If someone cares, they'll make the text work.

Reasons you still see AI gens with obviously bad English under the fold.

a) the poster is using the generator as a toy and doesn't care if the text makes sense.

b) it's been left in intentionally as engagement bait like typos on Facebook image-text posts.

c) the person is running a scam and doesn't care, because much like the obvious signs in NIgerian prince emails, it's there to filter out savvy responders (this has the bonus of additional reach from reason "B", which spreads the post to more people). Completely autogenerated content usually falls into this category.

d) The Dunning-Kruger Effect.

e) Not everyone using an English-centric generator is fluent in English.

f) it is one of the above curated for the purpose of getting laughs or rage.

And any one sample can fill multiple criteria. These are also true of generally malformed gens. Usually that's an automated system with no human interference or its engagement bait, or both.

This is a problem with behavior and practices, rather than with the tech. Before AI they just had automated layer-composite systems of the sort used for making most NFT collections.

#photomanipulation #AI art #ai art discourse #digital art #john cena

[bipp-bopp-time-to-stop]

My writer's block is hitting hard at the moment. I'm hoping the get the next spotlight fic uploaded either by tomorrow or Sunday, so here's a little snippet of it.

The light that filtered through the trees dappled the forest scene below in blotches of gold. A spring breeze blows sweetly through the woods and Hyrule feels the wind ruffle up his fluffy hair. He doesn’t bother to fix it because that meant he had to move. And he would sooner die than do that right now.

A hand comes back down to his head and nestles itself into his brown locks. An item, soft and fresh, is placed in his hair before the hand retreats. The hand isn’t gone for long as it returns to his hair again in a few moments to put another item in his hair. Hyrule hums and turns his head to the side to expose more untouched patches of hair. In doing so, he gets to bury his face further into the crease where your thighs and abdomen met. The action elicits a giggle from you and Hyrule believes he’s finally ascended to heaven.

“When I’m done with you, you’re sooner going to be a flower boy than a fairy boy,” Hyrule hears you giggle from above. He snorts in response and cuddles in closer. He takes in a deep breath and relishes odor that greets him. It was overly musky but it was you and that meant it was the smell of home.

“Mmm… I don’t mind,” the brunette sighs out and finally cracks open his eyes to stare at you. And you’re nothing short of beautiful. Golden light framing your hair still messed up from your recently shed helmet. Eyes and lips crinkled into a serene expression. Every part of you just screamed divinity.

Although divine was the word that best suited you, Hyrule also found you to be sweet. Sweet like honey fresh and dripping from the comb. Sweet like the snacks he liked to munch on whenever no one was looking (you almost always caught him, though, and claimed he’d rot out his teeth one day). Sweet like the warm and thick emotion that would pump through his veins and flood his heart when he was held in your arms. Your love poured and flowed through him like hot syrup and it made him giddy and high like nothing else could.

Your hands snaked under Hyrule’s arms and forced him up. He whined and wobbled his lip at you but you refused to give in. The two of you walked over to the still waters of the pond beside where the great fairy resided and you had him look down at his reflection. His hair was filled with all sorts of flowers and even a few sprigs of berries. He blushed at the sight but the wide smile on your face made it clear how happy his new hair accessories made you. To see such joy fill your face made Hyrule a weak, weak man.

But he’s your weak man.

And the ring that hangs from the chain on your neck should make that obvious.

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere lu #yandere lu x reader #yandere lu hyrule #yandere lu hyrule x reader

[storiesforallfandoms]

getting your attention ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2068

request?: yes!

@crazymelascula “Hello, good morning/good afternoon/good night! I don't really know when you'll see this, but I wanted to place a wish. I wanted to ask for a picture of Colson with jealousy. Maybe she provoked him (something like that). You you can make an obscenity of it if you like.”

description: in which her boyfriend is always busy with work, so she decides to get his attention in another way

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, orgasm denial, oral - m receiving, unprotected p in v, little bit of rough sex, pet names including sir, master, and princess, some jealousy and possessiveness)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Risqué photos were not your style. Not public ones, anyways. You didn’t mind sending the odd photo to Colson every now and then, but they were for his eyes and his eyes only.

But lately, Colson was busy. He always had some form of work going on lately; making music, touring, filming, writing - both songs and scripts. He was gone almost all the time, and the times he was home it was very obvious that he wasn’t actually present. It was hard. Of course, you were proud of him and how big his career had gotten, but you were starting to feel very unimportant in Colson’s life. Almost forgotten.

So here you were, looking at the sexy photo you had taken of yourself. It wasn’t anything too risqué - just a photo of you in some matching lingerie with one of Colson’s button ups pulled over you. You were laying on yours and Colson’s shared bed, giving the most seductive look you could muster to the camera.

And now the picture was sitting in your Instagram drafts. A caption typed up, a filter on it to give you a little extra glow. It was all ready for you to post, but you were hesitant. You had come up with the idea as a way to get Colson’s attention. Granted, it may not be a great idea, but you were lonely and, frankly, you were annoyed. You wanted him to come home, you wanted his attention. Fuck, you just wanted him to respond to the goddamn text you sent him hours ago.

You switched back to your texts to see that “Read” message still staring back at you. Your annoyance outweighed your hesitance as you went back to Instagram and hit “Post”.

Within seconds, you had thousands of likes and comments. You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, waiting for some form of recognition from Colson. A like, a comment, a text. Anything.

And you got...nothing.

You threw your phone down on the bed, tears filling your eyes. You pulled the covers over yourself and rolled into a ball, crying yourself to sleep.

~~~~~~

The sound of the front door loudly banging shut woke you. You stretched out your tired limbs as footsteps approached the bedroom. When you looked over, you were surprised to see Colson stood in the doorway.

“Hey,” you said, your voice still sheepish. “What time is it?”

“Six,” Colson responded.

“I thought you weren’t going to be home till closer to midnight.”

“I cut my day short.”

As he stepped into the dim light of the bedside lamp, you noticed a dark look on his face. A lustful look.

Now you were fully awake.

You sat up in bed, the covers falling to your lap to reveal you were still in the lingerie and Colson’s shirt. His eyes darted to your body for a moment. He moved so quickly you could barely register his movements; one moment he was in the doorway, the next he was throwing the blankets off of you, revealing your mostly naked body. You gasped as the cool air touched your bare skin.

“Good to see you’re still in that sexy outfit,” he said. “But it’s coming off.”

You nodded and started to take off the shirt. Your hands reached for the clasp of your bra, but he took hold of your wrists to stop you.

“Oh no, babe,” he said, his voice husky with lust. “I’m taking this lingerie off. Lay back.”

You did as he commanded. You laid back on the bed, looking up at Colson with wide, innocent eyes. The baby blue eyes you were so in love with were dark now. It would’ve been scary if you weren’t so turned on by his dominance.

He got up onto the bed, kneeling next to you. You kept eye contact with him as his hand reached between your legs. He yanked your panties to the side and cupped your cunt. You gasped at the contact, which turned to a moan as the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit.

“God, you’re already so wet,” he groaned. “Were you playing with yourself, princess?”

You shook your head quickly, another moan escaping your lips as he started to rub circles against your clit.

“No? This is just for me?” You nodded, but he pressed his thumb harshly against your clit. “Use your words.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Yes, this is all just for you!”

“If this is all just for me, why did you post that picture for everyone to see?”

The pieces fell into place then. He had come home early because he saw the Instagram post. He was so dominant and lustful because of the picture you had posted.

Your plan had worked.

You tried not to seem so cocky over this. You’d definitely be punished if he knew the satisfaction you were feeling over this reaction.

You exclaimed in pleasure again as you felt two of Colson’s long, slender fingers pushing through your entrance. He curled them just right so that they hit your spot. You clutched at the bedsheets below you, writhing in pleasure. A look of admiration crossed Colson’s face for just a second as he watched you. He loved to see how good he made you feel, but he was also trying to keep the dominant persona going.

His fingers working inside of you and his thumb against your clit brought you to the edge within a matter of moments. You were feeling lightheaded as you chased your high. You were so close, when suddenly Colson retracted his fingers. You whined at the loss of contact, reaching for his hand to put it back where it had been. Colson grabbed your hand - both of them, actually - and pinned them over your head.

“You post that picture on Instagram,” he said, “for the entire world to see what’s mine, and you think I’d let you cum that easily?”

“Sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I don’t think you are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have posted that picture.”

He pulled you to sit up by your wrists before letting them go. “If you can be patient enough to take your master’s clothes off, you can have what you want.”

You tried not to seem too eager as you pulled Colson’s shirt over his head and started to unbutton his pants. You pulled them down along with his boxers, allowing his hard cock to pop free. You looked at it with wide, needy eyes. You were cautious as you reached for it, waiting to see if he was going to stop you. When he didn’t, you wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped a little. He moaned at your touch, his head lulling back.

You kissed the tip, causing him to gasp. Then you put the head in your mouth, still testing the waters. Turns out you didn’t need to test too hard. Colson put a hand on your head and thrusted deep into your throat. You gagged, but he only seemed to like that. He held your head and roughly fucked your mouth until your eyes were watering and the wetness between your legs grew.

Colson pulled out of your mouth and grabbed you by the throat. He roughly pushed you onto the bed and started (literally) tearing off your lingerie. “God, I can’t take it anymore. I have to be inside of you.”

He ran the head through your soaked folds, lubing himself up before pushing himself into you. You moaned out around him. His fingertips dug into your hips as he lifted them for a better advantage point. Once you were stretched enough around him, he started roughly thrusting into you. Each merciless thrust abused your g spot and moans continued to tumble from your mouth.

You could hear him praising you, sometimes even asking you questions, but you were too fucked dumb to be able to respond. All you could think of was how good he felt inside of you, and whether or not you’d be able to hold your orgasm until he had his. You were really hoping he wouldn’t make you wait, but the dominant mindset he was in told you otherwise.

You could feel the familiar pressure beginning to build. Your eyes were rolling back into your head and your legs were tightening around his waist. He could feel your walls starting to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, princess?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Open those pretty eyes and look at me while you cum on this cock.”

You pried your eyes open and looked up at him. One of his hands moved from your hips to your hand, lacing your fingers together. He continued to thrust roughly into you until you felt yourself tumbling over the edge, screams of pleasure falling from your lips as you did so. You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and soon enough, he was groaning your name as he spilled his warmth inside of you.

Colson collapsed on top of you, holding himself up so that he didn’t completely crush you. You were both sticky with sweat and breathing heavy. Your eyes were trying to adjust as you came down from your high, but you were still feeling slightly cross eyed from the experience.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before Colson started to pull himself out of you and get up from the bed. You pouted as you watched him go. He saw your face and chuckled.

“I’m gonna go start the shower for us,” he said. “You can stay here till it’s ready. I figure you’re not able to walk just yet.”

Your still shaky legs were all the confirmation he needed.

“Please run it cold at first,” you said. “I don’t think I can do a hot shower right now.”

He chuckled against and nodded.

A few moments went by and you heard the shower in Colson’s ensuite start. He appeared back in the bedroom and helped you to your feet. You walked as best as you could towards the bathroom and got into the shower. You sighed as the cool water ran over your still hot and sweaty body, cooling you down to a reasonable temperature. Colson joined you, smiling at your reaction.

“So,” he said after a few moments of the two of you washing yourselves off, “what was that picture all about?”

You had almost forgotten what had gotten you to this point in the night. You weren’t sure if you should tell Colson the truth or not. Now that you had come down from your high, you worried that what you did may have seemed a bit...well...crazy. You could’ve talked to Colson about him being gone so much instead of posting a picture to make him jealous. Even if that picture had led to the hottest sex you had had in a while.

You sighed and decided to come clean. “I wanted to get your attention.”

Colson raised an eyebrow. “Well, that plan certainly worked. But why did you post a picture of yourself like that to do it?”

“Because it seemed like the only way,” you admitted. “You’ve been so busy lately and I was starting to feel...unimportant. I mean, I texted you while you were working today and you didn’t even respond. You just left me on read. I guess I just thought the only way to get your attention would be to post a picture like that and hope that maybe it would spark something inside of you.”

Colson ran a hand through your soaking hair before pulling you against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know I’ve been busy. I never really realized how much I’ve been focusing on work versus how little I’ve been focusing on our relationship.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I mean...it’s not completely okay, but I can’t blame you. You’ve been doing so much that you’re so proud of, and I’m proud of you too. I just want an equal balance of work and relationship. I want to cheer you on from the frontlines, not from the sidelines.”

He kissed your forehead. “Deal. I promise that for the next week I am all yours, and once I go back to work I’m taking you with me as much as I can.”

You smiled up at him. “I accept that deal.”

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #colson baker smut #mgk #imagine #one shot #request #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[luvistqrzzz]

THE ACCIDENTAL POLAROID- 21- FINALE::: it's like a polaroid love ( written::: 0.5K )

'Where are you taking me, Chae?!' You screamed blindfolded as you felt your three friends around you, leading you out of Hueningkai's broken car.

'Ssh! It's a surprise', she replied, taking your hand and pulling you into a room. 'I swear to God if you're kidna-' your voice died down as Sunoo removed the blindfold and you were met with the somewhat familiar surroundings of... Hungry Jungle diner.

You stood there, frozen in your spot and feeling tensed because you knew who'd be there. The guy you'd met (? sort of ) in this place. The exact one standing on the small stage staring into your eyes.

The silence was broken by Chaewon gently tugging at your hand and leading you to an empty table. You quickly looked away from him, embarrassed. Who thought it'll be a good idea to bring you here? You could almost kill your friends if only you didn't love them so much.

Heeseung cleared his throat, catching your attention, 'The last song for today is my uh own song and it's written for a special someone. I hope yall enjoy it.'

A soft melody filled the place as he started singing but his eyes were on you.

Why am I relying on to love?

It's obvious feeling anyway

I believed I would know everything

I guess it as trap that I fell for even I knew it

You couldn't help but blush at his voice and the sweet lyrics. Maybe giving the letter wasn't that bad of an idea. Even if the room was filled with people, for you, the chatter died down almost like you and Heeseung were the only ones.

It's like a polaroid love

It's not going my way

I don't even have any trendy filter

But I love that vibe

He finished it, a small hopeful smile on his face. Heeseung muttered a small thank you and bowed before leaving the stage.

Alarmed, you quickly got up, following him as he walked towards through the back door. 'Yah Lee Heeseung!'

He stopped in his tracks. This wasn't part of the plan. He had planned to properly confess to you after the night ended, not like this. 'You can't just walk away after singing that song and making me go crazy.'

He turned around to face you but before he could say anything, you ran up to him, pulling him into a kiss. His eyes widened but he slowly melted into it, pulling you closer by the waist.

You didn't even know what had gotten into you but there you were kissing him out of the blue, a thousand butterflies going wild in your stomach.

'I'm sorr-' '- sorry.' You both burst out into laughter, faces still close to each other. Heeseung caressed your cheek. 'Soooo, what do you say, girlfriend, let's get out of here', he suggested.

You playfully shoved him, 'Who said I was your girlfriend, polaroid boy?!'

Prev | Masterlist

SUMMARY- Lee Heeseung doesn't believe in love at first sight but what happens when he accidentally clicks a polaroid of a girl at the local diner? A girl he can't seem to get out of his mind.

Will he be able to return you the polaroid or will love follow him along the way?

GENRE- smau with written parts, college!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, crack, angst (veryyy slight), slight love triangle

TAGLIST- open! send an ask or comment to be added- @yenqa @xuimhao @ddazed-lhs @astrae4 @ghostiiess @seungminstaehyun @haechansbbg @chaechae-23 @ak-aaa-li @whippedforbeomgyu @ahnneyong @ineedaherosavemeenow @jhopesucker @j-wyoung @tnyhees @liliansun @rikizm @jadeluvsenha

(Bold=cannot tag)

AN- ANDDDD THATS A WRAP!! Omg i cant believe that its finally over my first finished smau😭😭😭 i cannot gurantee a bonus chapter but imma try TT!! Tysm to alll who supported this smau ily ily your comments and feedbacks really made my day <33 this was such a silly idea but it turned out fun i hope yall enjoyed it too🤧🫶! See yall in love theory iggg ;))

#📸accidental polaroid ! #enhypen smau #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen social media au #enhypen au #heeseung imagines #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fake texts #enha fake texts #enha fics #enhypen fluff

[drabbles-mc]

Palliative Care

Horacio Carrillo & F!Reader

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Horror: came back wrong

Warnings: 18+, major character death, angst, scars, blood, hospitals, all the sad angsty things idk

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Is this a day late? Yes. Is this one of the strangest, saddest fucked up little things I've ever written? Also yes. No clue where my brain went during this but here we are. I also think this might be my first ever fic with no dialogue. What a day!

Narcos Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @garbinge @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa @narcolini @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

palliative care (noun): treatment that reduces the pain without curing its cause

You had been one of the lucky ones. You knew it, too. With the minor exception of a few scars running up the side of your body, you came home fully intact. And compared to what you’d seen happen to so many others, a few ridges along your ribcage and thigh were hardly worth mentioning. You were grateful, in your mind at least, even if you didn’t always feel it all the way down into your bones.

The only thing that had gotten you through the atrocities that you’d seen, the losses that you’d suffered despite how hard you tried to prevent them, was the knowledge that one day you would be back home again. You weren’t going to live out your days wading through the carnage of war. And even though there was no guarantee of it, you were determined not to become and be buried as part of the mess yourself.

Unfortunately, no amount of determination and wishful thinking prepared you for what it was going to feel like being home again. All the days and nights you spent begging for some stability, some peace, maybe even a little bit of quiet, and once you got it you had no idea what to do with any of it. So many months in the midst of war and once you were relieved of that sense of urgency, your body just couldn’t accept it. There was no turning the dial down. The last thing you wanted was more chaos, but it felt like you were constantly filled with adrenaline, ready to handle crises that weren’t even there.

After months of struggling with guilt and the dreaded thought that you were somehow subconsciously ungrateful for the opportunity to be home and safe again, when you were asked whether or not you wanted another change of venue, it felt like the only answer was yes. It’d be different than last time, they assured you, but it wasn’t going to be some quiet hospital in the middle of a relatively safe city like where you’d been in the interim. Part of you knew that this was the last thing you probably needed, but if peace and quiet wasn’t fixing you, maybe getting thrown back into it would do the trick. So, off to Medellín you went.

It was different, just like they’d said. But in a lot of ways it was also the same. The apparent spontaneity felt familiar. There wasn’t always an obvious rhyme or reason to when the violence would crescendo, although you supposed that was the point.

The thing that felt the most familiar, though, was the underlying feeling of futility that you felt. More officers, more soldiers brought to you begging you to not let them die. You’d spent enough time doing triage on battlegrounds to know relatively quickly if you were going to have any control over the outcome. You hated how often you didn’t. But you knew better than to let them know that. Calm, collected, reassurance even if it was a lie was the best you could do for any of them regardless of whether or not you could help them.

You didn’t like the feelings that came rushing back, the familiarity of it all, but even though that was the case, it was the first time in a long time that you didn’t feel like you were out of place.

You grew to recognize the people that filtered in and out of the hospital on a regular basis. Sometimes they saw you frequently because they themselves were getting injured. As much as you hated seeing people getting hurt over and over again, at least return trips meant that they kept surviving.

The other people you saw frequently were the officers in charge. Sometimes they were getting patched up by you, but other times they were coming through to check on their men. All you could hope was that you had good news for them. The same way you could tell within moments of seeing someone getting brought in whether you’d be able to help them or not, officers soon learned to be able to tell whether or not you had good news for them. They never held it against you when you didn’t—the families were another story.

You didn’t know much of anything about Colonel Carrillo outside of the things you’d heard about him in passing. Your conversations with him were always short, always professional. He never seemed to show any emotion to you one way or another regardless of whether you were delivering good or bad news to him. His expression almost always stayed the same. Neutral, hardened. No matter what you said, he’d always conclude the conversation with a tight nod, and an even tighter “Thank you” before going off to wherever he was needed next. He never seemed to want to listen to your apologies, whatever condolences you used to try and offer him. You stopped giving them after awhile—he seemed almost relieved about it.

His absence wouldn’t have been something that crossed your mind at all if you hadn’t heard other nurses and doctors talking about it in passing. People stopped showing up all the time—you considered yourself lucky if you weren’t there to find out the reason why. If you hadn’t heard the murmurs, you never would have given it another thought. You would have just hoped the best for him, while in the back of your mind knowing it most likely wasn’t the case.

But then you heard them talking about how he’d gotten sent away. You watched the news enough to put it all together. Part of you felt relieved knowing that at least he was one person who wasn’t being sent away from the war in a pine box. Another part of you felt the tightness reappearing in your chest the more you thought about it. You knew what it was like to try and leave the fight. You’d done it of your own volition and you still couldn’t handle being away from the thick of it all. You could scarcely imagine what being pulled away before he was ready would do to someone who seemed to operate the way that Carrillo did.

He faded from your mind eventually, the way that most people tended to when you saw so many of them each day. You had much more present issues to think about. All of Colombia did. The surges of violence had you feeling like your hands would never be clean of blood no matter how hard you scrubbed them, no matter how scalding the water was. More officers than you could try to count or keep track of, dead before they got to you if not shortly after. There was no way to keep up with it. It was a feeling of drowning that you had felt before, one you never wanted to feel again. This time around, though, you at least knew how to tread water—exhausting but vital work.

The days had blurred together so completely that you lost track. You didn’t know how long Carrillo was gone for, but suddenly he was back again. He strode across the hospital floors like he hadn’t even been gone a day. You saw the difference in him, though. Soldiers all reached a point where they get pushed so far that they will either break, or they’ll evolve. You’ve seen the fallout of both those options and it was impossible to say that either one was preferable. But you could tell by the set of Carrillo’s jaw that he wasn’t broken. He was different, but not broken.

He spoke to you like no time at all had passed, so you returned the favor. Right back into old scripts, old routines. He had more jagged edges now where you just had more exhaustion. Maybe when all of this was said and done you’d simply be too tired to do anything but adjust to a quiet, normal life. More wishful thinking.

You felt like you had needed to claw your way out of your shift. The hours just kept slipping on by. Just when it seemed like there was no end in sight, you were told to go home. You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately taking off to get your things so you could grab what precious few hours of sleep that you could manage.

Your car keys were in your hand when you heard the sudden rush of yelling voices and running feet. It would’ve been so easy to pretend you’d missed it all, to slip out the back and cross the lot to your car. Avoiding it was infinitely easier than confronting it and throwing yourself into the middle of it. You knew that. Easier would’ve been such a nice change of pace. And yet you threw your keys back into your locker and headed back out towards the floor.

There was chaos and cussing and men groaning in pain. Immediately it became a game of Tetris trying to organize and find room for everyone, both patients and hospital staff alike. Only so many of you could populate a floor and still do your jobs without tripping over each other.

You were trying to figure out where the hell you were supposed to start when you felt someone’s hand reach out and grab yours. You returned the gesture on instinct, never one to deprive a desperate soldier of a last hint of comfort. However, when you looked down at the person who had grabbed your hand, you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. You’d never seen the Colonel being anything other than cold and composed—never the one on this end of the equation. You’d definitely never seen him reaching out to anyone for comfort.

When you took in the state of him, you couldn’t help but to wonder if he was just looking to you to confirm what he already knew. No amount of tactical gear in the world would’ve saved him from whatever he’d gone through before he got brought to you. Despite all the blood and the pale look of his face, the grip he had on your hand was surprisingly strong.

All of your usual words got caught in the back of your throat, things you would typically say to provide comfort in moments like this. But it was Colonel Carrillo, a man who wanted nothing to do with being placated. It was better that way for both of you now because the lump at the back of your throat made it impossible for you to say anything at all, comforting or not.

The tighter he tried to hold onto your hand, the more you tried to match his grip. You brought your hand that he wasn’t holding to rest on his shoulder, fingers wrapping over the curve of it. You tried not to pay attention to the blood that seeped from his uniform into the pads of your fingertips. Even as the seconds ticked by, and his grip started to weaken, and tears began to cut the edges of your eyes and his, you didn’t apologize. He didn’t ask for one either. He didn’t ask for anything. He just held your hand until he couldn’t anymore.

#narcoctober #horacio carrillo #day of horror #horacio carrillo x reader #x reader #x reader fic #horacio carrillo x you #narcos #narcos netflix #narcos netflix fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc