#if you must know its People With Dark Hair and Big Eyes Who I Could Either Kill or Kill With

[studioghibelli]

bewitched, bothered, bewildered.

a joel miller x reader

summary: after your parents leave on a cruise for winter break, your best friend sarah invites you over to her house for the holidays. she failed to mention her father is the hottest man in the world.

warnings: best friends dad!joel, slight canon divergence as in Sarah is college aged come 2023, a big phat girthed up age gap, alcohol consumption, reader has just gotten out of a relationship, various media references, smut (fingering, female masturbation, f receiving oral, dirty talk, pet names, tiniest sir kink.) mdni!

note: this could be a series. i’m not too sure right now. let me know if you’d be interested in this as multiple parts!

You had never been to Texas before.

Tales of obnoxiously large barbecues, ten gallon hats, and vast, desert plains where rattlesnakes roamed freely filled your mind. Sticky sweet iced tea, kind old women who called everyone “honey”, and dry, arid heat were also things you associated with Texas.

And, sure, Texas was hot and humid as hell.

But it was beautiful.

While the plane made its final descent down to the Austin airport, your eyes took in the most beautiful sunset you had ever gazed upon, never before seeing oranges and reds quite as beautiful. By the time you deplaned, the deep navy of the night sky showcased millions of glimmering stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw so many stars. It must have been ages, but nonetheless they had ignited you with a sense of wonder.

“It’s about an hour, to my place.” Sarah warned, standing by your side as you both waited to catch sight of your luggage.

You nodded a bit, patiently looking to see your dark teal suitcase pass through the conveyor belt.

“Hey,” she nudged you in the side, causing you to glance her way. “Are you still thinking about your ex? Not good for you, so you better stop.”

“What if we were soulmates?” You grumbled, knowing how stupid you sounded. Your shoulders slumped forward. You didn’t actually think that idiot was the person you would spend the rest of your life with, but it was nice to have someone. To have… your person.

“If you two were soulmates, you wouldn’t have been broken up with. Now would you?” Sarah smiled sadly, gently patting your head. “Winter break is a month long. Who knows? Someone here might catch your eye!”

You rolled said eyes at her wiggling brows, grumbling beneath your breath. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe.”

“My dad has loads of hot guys working for him. They stop by the house sometimes, maybe you could…. I don’t know- waltz downstairs wearing a tight shirt and stick your ass out.” She wiggled her butt against you with a faux-seductive dance move.

“Sarah!” You laughed, gently pushing her shoulder.

“Dad says he should be here in about 5 minutes. Oh! There’s our bags.”

You grabbed your luggage in unison, lugging them off the machine before rolling through the crowds of people, no doubt travelling to and fro for the holidays.

“Look for a black Chevy!” She warned as you walked outside.

“I don’t know what that looks like!” You shouted earnestly, over the hustle and bustle of the pick up area.

Sarah looked at you, before rolling her eyes with a laugh. “There he is!” She waved both her hands towards a truck in the distance. You watched as it pulled to the curb, windows tinted black. When the driver door opened you heard Hank Williams crooning from the stereo, still unable to see the figure that was Sarah’s dad.

The shadow on the sidewalk was broad as it made its way towards the two of you, and when you finally dragged your eyes up, you saw Joel Miller in all his glory.

Tall, rugged, a little rough around the edges- but undeniably handsome. He wore a regular tan crew neck underneath a brown flannel, jeans spread out tight against his thick thighs, with the pointed toes of two leather boots sticking out. His dark hair, littered with strands of drool worthy gray, was slicked back from a fresh shower, one stray curl managing to sneak its way out.

And when he stepped closer, you smelled him. God, you smelled him. He wore just the right amount of cologne, and it made your knees weak. Joel smelled like woody vanilla, swirling with cracks of cardamom and whiffs of lavender tinted flowers of iris. You almost moaned. He smelled delicious.

Joel greeted Sarah, but quite honestly you were too overwhelmed to hear anything they were saying. And then he turned to you.

You.

“Hello.” He smiled a bit, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite pin point. “I’m Joel. It’s real nice to have you stayin’ with us.”

You smiled. A real smile. He was kind, too? What a fucking dream. “Thank you.” After telling him your name you went to pick up your luggage, before a hand grabbed your arm gently.

His hand. Well worked, rough, calloused- an honest pair of hands that were scarred by a lifetime of hard work. Honorable hands. Sexy hands.

“There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ a pretty thing like you lift that suitcase all by herself. You’re in Texas now, honey. Don’t you know we practically invented gentlemen down here?” He joked, grabbing your bag and tenderly sitting it down in the bed of his Chevy.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll just let you do everything for me, since you’re a gentleman and such.” You teased. You watched the hint of a smile ghost across his lips.

“Well, you might just have to, darlin’.” With a wink that made your belly tighten, he opened the door for you, and you joined Sarah in the backseat.

“Dad, what the hell are you listening to?”

“Hank Williams.” You both said in unison. He put his eyes on you from the mirror, winking at you.

“Bring this one around more, Sarah. I like her.”

Sarah smiled, looking at you with love sparkling in her eyes. The kind of love that only existed between two bonded women, the kind of love that only two girls in a deep, genuine friendship could share. You smiled, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Dad, you know she just got dumped.”

“Sarah!” You guffawed. And that special moment was over. Tenderness now replaced with annoyance.

“Who got broken up with?”

Sarah nudged her head towards you.

“Her?!” He spoke incredulously. As if Joel could not wrap his head around the idea of someone ever leaving you.

You buried your hot face in your hands, mumbling a bit. “Was a fucking jerk.” You grumbled after a long moment of silence, pulling away from your palms to look out the window, watching the city pass by.

“Must have been, breakin’ your heart.”

“Dad, you have no clue. So it all started-” As Sarah started explaining your past relationship and breakup, you watched the backdrop of Austin rush past your window.

Beautiful buildings shimmering in the night, the distant noise of the city clamoring, vibrant grass and trees scattered about. It was stunning, alive, noisy. It was nothing like what people had described Texas as. And the only person who had called you ‘honey’ so far, was your best friend’s hot dad.

You pulled away from where you looked, coming back in to reality. Sarah was still going on and on with her drama spilling. Joel was still listening, or at least looked like he was listening. His plush lips were cemented into a tight line, eyes dark and focused on the highway ahead. He met your gaze in his rearview mirror once again, and the tightness of his furrowed brow softened momentarily. You offered him a hint of a smile, and he gladly took it.

“So, what’re you majoring in?” He asks you. You didn’t quite catch his question. You were examining how his hands looked around the steering wheel as he turned it, the way the pad of his thumb caressed the leather, the way his thighs looked spread out against the brown of the sleek seat. God. Was it normal to wish you were a fucking steering wheel?

You clenched your thighs together. You wondered if he noticed. He seemed rather perceptive.

“I’m sorry sir, what did you ask, Mr. Miller?”

Joel swallowed thickly, sucking in a sharp breath. “Joel, please. Call me Joel. I asked what you’re studyin’, back at school.”

Sarah laughed a bit, not looking up from her phone. “What isn’t she studying?”

You grinned a toothy grin at the comment. “It’s true. I’ve changed my major loads of times. I started with French, then anthropology. Now I’m stuck between film and history. There are a lot of things I love learning about. I just…. want to see the world, experience it all.” You explained softly, looking out the window as you thought. “It’s kind of hard to focus on one thing when your heart is all over the place. Y’know?”

Joel nodded a bit, clearing his throat. “You sound way smarter than me. Been contractin’ my whole life. Nothin’ special like French or history.” You giggled to yourself at the way he pronounced ‘French’, his Texan accent thick on the syllables.

“Contracting is honest work. Takes a big, strong man, you know? It can’t be easy. I admire that.” You hummed. Your eyes met once again. Joel’s tongue flicked across his lower lip, nostrils slightly flared.

Sarah was none the wiser, scrolling through her phone. You hummed a bit, settling in to your seat. By the time you looked at Sarah, she was passed out, fast asleep.

“So,” Joel began, turning on to a dirt road. You saw a few cows in the pasture fast asleep, the moon hanging above them. It looked like something from a storybook. “You heartbroken’ over this break up?”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t…. really know. It’s just weird…. it’s- it’s like I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Like, yeah, I was cheated on, then dumped. But we did everything together. Went out, grabbed dinner, saw movies. I just don’t know what to fill that up with. I do all those things with Sarah, obviously, but it’ll still be weird. I don’t know. I’m rambling.” You huffed out a breath of air you had been holding, shrugging a bit. “Probably sounds stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid.” Joel reassured softly, his deep voice rumbled like a song through your ears, filling your mind with symphonies and day dreams. Day dreams of feeling his mouth on your own, hearing that voice from behind your back while he took you- wait, what? No! He was Sarah’s dad! You shook the thoughts away. “Don’t uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t feel bad for feelin’ any sort of way. Alright?”

As he pulled into the driveway of his home, you nodded slowly. “I’ll try not to.”

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

You laughed. “Star Wars! I love Star Wars.” You cooed, rubbing a hand down your cheek in an attempt to stifle your giggles.

“Sarah would never watch it with me. Been beggin’ her for years.” Joel admitted through a cracked grin.

“Well, I’ll watch it with you.”

Joel shot you that glance once more. “I’d like that.”

Was it a date? No. Surely not? Stop getting ahead of yourself! You took in a deep, shaky breath, gulping down a thick lump that had been forming. No. Calm down. There was no way.

Sarah woke up with a yawn, smiling when she realized the truck had finally pulled in to the driveway.

Joel helped you all unload your things, showing you to the guest room. “Feel free to help yourself to anything. Fridge, drinks. In the garage we got beers and some of them fruity mixers that Sarah likes. Our home is your home.” He explained, extending that Southern hospitality that you had heard so much about.

You felt your body warming up. “Thank you.”

“And, uh….” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously. “I’ll be downstairs in the livin’ room watchin’ some movies, if you want to join me.”

WHAT?!

“Okay. Sure. I’d like that.” You said calmly, stiffly, and definitely not using a oh-my-god-did-he-really-say-that tone of voice. Nope. Not you. Not at all.

“Don’t feel pressured or nothin’. Just a thought.”

Before you could respond, Joel had walked through the hall and down the stairs. You threw on your pajamas, a simple pair of fleece bottoms and a tank top, rolling the thought over in your head. It would be nice, to sit next to him, hear his laugh, cast glances at his side profile. But you weren’t too sure if you could be trusted. Just out of a relationship, full of emotion, irrevocably attracted to this man….. No. No. It wasn’t a good idea. What if you did something you regretted?

So you climbed in to bed, shutting your eyes tight.

And then thirty minutes passed, and your eyes were wide open.

And then an hour passed, and your eyes were still wide opened.

What-fucking-ever.

You threw the covers off with a huff and walked out of your room, quiet as not to wake Sarah. She had had a rough finals week, and you knew she needed a good night’s rest. You on the other hand? Your body was aflame, every nerve lit up like a Christmas tree by Joel’s charming laugh, perfect hands, stern face. God. Why was he so attractive? So alluring? You buried your face in your hands as you shuffled down the hallway.

You were really doing this.

You reached the couch, and saw Joel watching the television, strong arm thrown across the back of it.

“Uhm, Mr- Uh, Joel?”

He turned to look at you, and you noticed a smirk tease the corner of his lips. “Well, hello darlin’. Started to think you weren’t goin’ to take me up on my offer.” Joel patted the empty space beside him. The couch was small, meant for two people.

You weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, well.” You let out a nervous giggle, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t sleep, so.”

“Oh. So you’re tellin’ me I’m your rebound?” He joked.

“Yeah. Sorry… I’m real desperate these days.” You teased back, holding an embroidered pillow to your chest.

Joel chuckled a deep, beautiful, throaty chuckle, his arm not moving from the back of the couch, brushing every so often against your shoulder blades. “Do you want a drink?” He asked, turning to look at you.

“Sure.” You smiled softly at him, eyes lingering for a few beats to long. He shook his head a bit, as though he were thinking something he really shouldn’t be thinking, before looking away. A moment of awkward silence fell between you two.

Without missing a beat, he slapped his hands on his knees through a deep sigh, getting up and walking to the garage. When he came back, he had a six pack of beer in one hand, and a box of pre-mixed Strawberry Daiquiris in the other.

“Didn’t know which one to grab for you. A bit of everythin’, I suppose.” He sat the cartons in front of you, and you opted for the Daiquiri.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. “Anythin’ sound good?”

You hummed out in thought, eyeing all the movies. “Oh! Stepbrothers! That’s a good one.”

He looked at you. “Really?” He teased dryly.

“Sarah and I quote it all the time.”

Joel nodded for a moment, before turning to you, a serious look on his face. “Did you… touch my drum set?”

A long bout of silence passed, before you took in a deep breath and looked up at him. “No.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together, clicking his tongue. “It’s just weird, cause it seems like someone definitely touched my drum set.”

“Yeah, that is weird, cause I didn’t touch them.”

You stared at each other intensely, both feigning fake anger, before you broke out into giggles. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“So, Stepbrothers then-”

“Oh!” You cut him off excitedly. “Look! The Empire Strikes Back!”

He hummed in agreement, clicking it on. You both got settled in, your shoulder touching his side, his arm thrown behind your back again. Comfortable silence blanketed the room, and you took in the scene around you.

A small living room, a flat screen propped on a wooden console that looked handmade, a nice rug spread out over the hardwood floors. There were some car magazines on the table, a pair of work boots sitting in the corner. It smelled like him, and his electrifying cologne. It felt like him, too. Masculine, woody, comfortable. It was incredible.

You had finished the box of drinks before the end of the movie, and by the time Han Solo was frozen solid in his fancy little fridge, you were crying your eyes out.

Not because of the movie.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Joel’s eyes slightly widened as he turned to you. “Hey, honey, what’s the matter?”

You sniffled, face planting in to his chest. You were tipsy, the newest recipient of a so called broken heart, and he was warm. So, so warm. Without missing a beat, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, his grip tight and secure. You had never felt more protected, more wanted, more cared for.

“Shh, it’s okay.” His long fingers ran through your hair, gentle and soothing. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m such an idiot.” You grumbled into his husky chest, no doubt leaving a stain of tears. “I should have seen it coming. Everyone warned me about… about… even Sarah knew. But I didn’t listen. And now I’m here, crying to my best friend’s dad who is way too hot for his own good, full of all these feelings, and-and-….. oh, fuck.” You realized what had spilled from your mouth, pulling away sheepishly and stuffing the pillow in your face.

Joel sat for a moment, wordlessly, slowly looking at you. He gently pushed the pillow away before his index and thumb grabbed your chin, demanding and gentle, tilting your gaze to meet his own. “Too hot for my own good, huh?”

Your face heated up with embarrassment. You wanted to recoil away, maybe throw up a little. You wanted to climb beneath the couch and die there. Anything but own up to your words.

“It’s okay. Think you’re the first of Sarah’s friends to get a little crush on me?” He joked softly, gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

A pinch of jealousy surged through you. It wasn’t making you feel any better. You sniffled loudly, your eyelashes fluttering.

“I will say, you are the first of Sarah’s friends I’ve…. well, you’re beautiful. And smart. And, you know.” Joel paused, clearing his mind. He was usually much better with his words. “Look, darlin’. I like you, a lot. And I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anythin’, but I can help with that broken heart of yours.”

A gulp of air caught in your chest. With shaking hands, you gently grabbed his own, pulling him closer to you. A deep breath, and then: “Please. Help me forget.”

Joel chuckled, his palm dragging down the side of your body. “I can do that.”

His lips met yours. Hungry, passionate, deep. Joel kissed you like he’d never kiss again, and you happily let him, lips parting, heart mending. He pushed you down onto the soft couch with his weight hovering above your own, fingers tangling into your hair. He wanted you. All of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, hand moving down to your pajama pants.

“Please.” It came out choked, a plea, a prayer.

He pushed your pants down, allowing you to kick them off, before his palm found your core. Hot, soaked, weeping for him. He groaned, gently rubbing your swollen clit from behind the material of your underwear.

“God damn, girl.” He smirked, eyes darkening. “This all for me?”

You nodded meekly, the inside of your cheek caught between your molars. “Touch me.” You begged.

“Here?” He whispered, his thumb dragging across your soaked slit, over the cotton material.

“Anywhere. Just, please- make me cum.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum alright, girl. But you’re going to have to stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pushed your legs back, slipping between them as he lowered himself, now face to face with your pussy. Joel slipped your underwear to the side, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip, before leaning forward and taking your clit in his mouth. You shuddered at the contact, groaning softly.

“I think,” he whispered quietly, your ears straining to hear him, “I want you to rub this pretty clit while I finger fuck your pussy.”

You groaned softly, eyes blown wide and dark, as you slowly sat yourself up on your elbows. “Ye-yes sir.” It just slipped out. You were too horny to care.

A guttural hiss seeped through his teeth. “I like that.” He warned deeply. “Go on, rub it for me.”

You lowered your shaking hand, the tip of your index slowly tracing up the length of your clit. It was screaming, begging, throbbing for any semblance of pleasure.

Joel’s eyes were on you.

He was inspecting your every movement like a panther stalking its prey, eyes full of lust, tongue dripping with desire.

You took in a sharp breath before rubbing your bud between your index and middle finger, a soft breath leaving you.

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praised, middle finger sinking in to your tight cunt. Joel sighed out a string of curses. “You’re fuckin’ tight, baby. That little pussy is drippin’ for me.”

“For you.” You whispered.

He looked up at you as he kissed your thigh, biting down on the soft, supple flesh. “You’re fuckin’ delicious.”

You threw your head back at his words, hips bucking. You felt your orgasm growing nearer, stomach tensing. Joel pushed your hand away, and you jerked your head to look at him, so quick it almost gave you whiplash.

“Sorry, I just can’t help myself.” He leaned forward, sucking at your clit again, his tongue swirling and flattening against it. Joel knew what he was doing.

As his finger still hit inside of you, you brought your hands down to his hair, tugging at his curls, the once slicked style now rampant and messy. You tried to stop yourself from moaning too loud, fearful of waking Sarah, but how could you not?

Joel fucking Miller, the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, was worshipping your pussy. You shivered, thighs clenching.

He was worshipping your pussy.

His hot tongue felt like Heaven against you, and Joel was eating you like a starved man, like your cunt was the nectar of the gods. He did what your ex had never done before- he made you feel wanted, made you feel desired.

Joel moaned into your pink flesh, sucking and licking, nibbling and swirling, until your stomach grew tight with a looming climax.

God, he was good at this.

“Gonna cum. G-gonna cum, Jo- oh, oh. Oh.” You hummed out in relief as your orgasm washed over you, eyes widening as he continued licking, sucking, finger fucking- he didn’t care that you were getting sensitive. All he cared about was you. Your sweet pussy, delicious cum, soft folds- he wanted all of it.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He whispered, bringing himself away from your core. “Sweet little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your cheeks heated, and you slowly sat up, legs still shaking. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel chuckled, reaching towards you as he fixed a few strands of messy hair. “Yeah, Jesus Christ.”

You stared at one another for a moment before he tackled you with a deep kiss, hungry and crazed. You wasted no time kissing back, feeling the outline of his cock on your bare thigh. You gasped for air at the touch, already knowing he was big, thick, perfect.

Your hand was moving towards his shirt before the hallway light switched on.

“Fuck. Here.” He tossed you your pants and you quickly slipped them on, resuming your positions on the couch as normally as possible.

As Sarah walked down the stairs, your chest tightened with a sudden realization.

This was going to be a great winter break… if you made it out in one piece, that is.

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[faeriekit]

The Firstborn Son

dp x dc | Batman 👻 tw for: dead body, brief reference to human trafficking

(Part II available now!)

****

Once upon a time, there is a boy who dies forever...mostly.

****

Once upon a time, there is a man who wants to live forever.

He does.

****

Once upon a time, there is a daughter born to an immortal man.

"I need an heir," her father commands.

She gives him one.

****

Once upon a time, there is a King.

(He is a dead boy.)

(Most do not know that.)

"My heir, for a hundred years of your power," the immortal offers; the King accepts.

****

Once upon a time, there was a family of acrobats.

There isn't, not anymore, but the son still loves his mother and father, and gravity cannot steal his wings forever.

He sleeps restlessly, and rarely in his own bed. The allure of flying is too much to resist. At night, when the world is quiet, the acrobat joins the black darkness of an endless sky, and claims it as his own.

His guardian is one with the night.

The petit Robin is bright light and spectacle, no matter how well he hides his colors. He is spotted first.

****

Dick didn't really remember waking up from his nap. Alfred had put him down for a cold; his head hurt, and he was sleepy all the time, so B was out without him and Dick was stuck in a too-big bed in a giant, dark mansion, all alone.

Except. At some point, Dick must have gotten out of bed. Because now he's in the chandelier.

Dick doesn't remember jumping to the chandelier. And jumping to the chandelier is hard work; it's not something he could have done in his sleep. It requires weight, heft; the shirking of gravity. The night is dark around him; there are no street lights outside of their windows to light up the hallway. The darkness makes the grand persian carpet so much farther away than it is in the daytime-- entirely, unfathomably far below him. Pale moonlight flickers across cut shards of crystal. It's Dick's own little bird's nest.

Dick and the chandelier gently sway. He doesn't notice the-- the ghost, the illusion-- for a whole minute. It just looks like moonlight, until it doesn't.

It's a body. A boy's body-- not much older than Dick. Suspended, midair.

His heart drops. But Dick doesn't scream.

For a second, there are two boys midair, silent and still in the morning moonlight.

The body raises its head. Hello, Richard.

Dick doesn't move.

I have a question for you. The body blinks sightless eyes. Does your guardian treat you well?

Dick...doesn't know what that means. He rolls his weight forward, careful, so careful not to tip himself over the edge and send him plummeting.

"...Why are you asking?"

I need something looked after, the body says. Its limbs sway in wind that isn't here. It is very precious to me.

"Oh." Well, B is Batman, sometimes. And when he's not Batman, he's Bruce Wayne, and he is in charge of a lot of people. "Yeah, he's respons- reponsbile- he does a good job. Can I see it?" Dick's interest is piqued.

The body stills. And then-- like a zombie clawing its way out of its grave, it reaches through the rotting skin of its own stomach and removes. Something.

It's a baby.

Dick leans so far forward that he almost does go toppling but he's gripping the silver of the chandelier so that he doesn't, and, look! It's a baby! It's so small and tiny and it's still purple!

"He's so new!" Dick gasps, and releases one arm from its death grip to make a grabby hand. The body only floats close enough that Dick can pet the baby's cheek with a careful finger, can feel the softness of the baby's hair.

He is my charge, the body explains. As such, he is precious to me.

The baby is so small. Dick wants to bounce him, like he's seen mamas and papas do with their little ones. "Can I hold him?"

The baby disappears back into the body. It looks like a maggot burrowing back into the corpse it's eating, and Dick is heartbroken and sick about it. No. Not until I know it's safe.

Dick pouts. Also, he needs to know how to get the baby away from the...body. Babies need a lot of light and warmth. A dead body monster can't give him that.

Your guardian played his part in making the little heir, the body says. This baby was given to me by his grandfather. His mother passed him onto her own father, and her father sold him to me.

"Oh no!" Dick gasps. That is one of the things B has had to explain to Dick, one of hundreds of terrible things that happens to people in Gotham. And it happened to B's baby?

Yes. The body floats sightlessly, thin skin sliding over too-pale eyes. I must know if he is safe before I leave the baby in his care. Will you help me?

Dick...doesn't know what that means. He bites down on the soft presence of his lip. (He tastes blood.) "How?"

The body and the baby inside it are still. Quiet. Dick is two stories off the ground, midair, and any wrong motion could be his-- his-- Dick can't even see the ground. It would hurt so much. He's so high up from the distant hardwood floor and with only ghosts to keep him company.

...It would be very scary.

Dick swallows.

Do you trust that he would come get you, if you were in danger?

Dick knows so. He nods.

Do you trust he would be smart enough to find you? Mean enough to defend you? Care enough to comfort you? the body asks.

Dick nods.

The body floats closer. Closer. Until they are almost touching-- limp limbs entangling on the crystalline arms of the chandelier. It would be very scary, if you said yes, the body admits, as heavily weighted as any corpse that cannot help you hold it. But you would be in no danger. Should your guardian succeed, I will entrust him with this precious thing.

One circus boy's fears for the safety of B's baby. It's an easy choice. Dick is Robin. He is always going to pick helping people over maybe getting hurt.

His pinky touches the cold, dead flesh of the body's.

And then Dick wakes up sweating and heaving in bed.

#ooo spooky ooky #idk kid maybe ask your dad about this before you agree to anything?? #this is why I can never finish anything #I always have like ten things in reserve #contracts signed by minors without consent are illegal DANNY #dp x dc #Danny Phantom #DC #DCU crossover

[the-californicationist]

The Devil's Summer

Konig/Reader TW: Rape, sexual assault, corpses, murder, violence

I am not being playful when I say that if you find any of these tags disturbing that you should skip this fic. Reading this story is not worth making yourself feel uncomfortable or causing yourself pain. Please take care of yourself first and foremost.

MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS

AO3 Link

A tall, foreign stranger comes to town with his masked crew of bandits. They rob the train station and the bank, but the big one… he has his sights set on a different sort of prize: you.

The summer had been like an open mouth, unbreathing, unmoving, but warm and wet and still in its bearing. The bayou lay like a lolling tongue over the swampland, and the sweetness of the azaleas could not make up for the stench of its lazy, murky flow. Bald cypress trees lined the river like rotten teeth, their graying, dull bark holding evidence of the cavities of selfish men, black bullet holes from selfish gunfire. The rope burn on the tall, gnarled bows left scars as if they were old wounds, and they were. Your brother’s innocent body had been the cause for one, and you were glad he wasn’t here to witness them today.  

The Devil didn’t know how hot it could get, but you did. You could barely move in the high noon of the day, and as the cicadas screamed, so you wanted to as well. The air lay on you like an awful hand, pressing you flat with its damp, punishing palm. It kept you from sleep, and it threatened you with steady, unrelenting torment. Your skin grew pink and tight from the ruby-colored sun, gleaming and immutable as it sagged in the cloudless firmament. Like the tangle of Spanish moss that hung in the trees outside, swaying back and forth like strange fruit, your hair clung to your neck, vampiric. 

Your father was dead, much good may it do him, as were most of the other people in your town. Since the early hours of the morning, you’d sat on your aching knees in the wet bank of Bayou Têche, providing sustenance for the mosquitos who feasted on your unguarded flesh. Your hands were bound with wire twine, and it cut into your wrists hard enough for them to bleed. The flies swarmed you, and you’d long since given up trying to fight them off. The man who had come to deliver this day to you and the other few inhabitants of your town was watching your future unfurl before you, as patient as the summer sun. 

He hadn’t shown his face, but you knew he was a white man. Those pale, ice-blue eyes couldn’t have been borne from Creole blood. If you were honest with yourself, something in your chest told you that those eyes weren’t even human. They were situated behind a black, heavy hangman’s hood that covered him from head to neck, and it was stained with blood and all manner of other liquids. The humidity made it cling to his nose and jaw, and you saw the aquiline shape disturb the smoothness of the fabric. 

The hangman wore a large-brimmed cowboy hat on his head constructed of fine, black felt. It was very much out-of-season, meant for a cool dry winter. Despite your suffering, you could imagine and empathize that his head and neck must be near boiling. 

His body was immense. He looked like he was seven feet high, and he was as broad as a door. His heavy musculature moved slowly, teasingly, but you had watched him strike like a water moccasin, deadly accurate and blindingly fast. Atop his demonic draft horse, he looked like he was one of the Hessians that Sister Campbell had described to you in school, when you’d been allowed to go.

The Hessian was a fine shot. He’d killed most of the men in town by his own hand, picking them off like he was elbow-deep in a blackberry bush, choosing the biggest ones first to stain his hands in their sweet juices. Your father had been near the end, no longer a threat in his old age. The white hair of his beard was painted with red stripes, coughed up in those final moments of futility, and the dark skin of his cheek made the colors that much more vibrant. You wished his eyes were closed. You didn’t want him to see what may happen to you now. 

He’d been staring at you for quite some time. Although he hadn’t been the one to tie you up, it was what he wanted. The will of his men and of your small town folded under his brutal control, and now that everyone was dead, he dominated the silence with comfortable ease. 

You watched him swing a long, thick leg over the saddle, lowering himself to the wet ground with a thud. His boots were worn and filthy, not intended for walking through the black bayou waters and shores, and his spurs were sharpened into curled spikes. Each step was a promise. The gun in his hand would be your reward, you were certain of it. 

Imagining all of your hopes and dreams seemed disgusting to you now. The shine of the gun was nothing like the glittering gold ring you’d wanted to wear to your wedding, if you had one. You’d wanted children, a whole litter of them, and you wanted to cook jambalaya for them and dress them in matching flour sacks, all lined up in a row. You wanted to braid their hair in the way your mother had braided yours, secreting away little prayers between each bite, locking them in place with an extra twist. 

You would have none of that. The only thing for you now was this demon. Whatever he wanted had replaced your own desires. You waited for his wanting to find its end. 

The dirty barrel of the gun pressed under your chin, its soot gritty and black against your skin, and your jaw turned up to the blinding sky to look into the coolness of his gaze. He looked like he was smiling at you, which was worse than his fury, and you held back the bile rising in your throat, burning you as hot as a brand. 

“Fils putain,” you snarled without raising your voice, spitting on the gloved hand that had the gun to your neck. 

You watched the spit bubble white across the black leather, his thumb as wide as a root, and you heard it drip into the mud at your knees when it ran in thick rivulets across his knuckles.

He smiled again with his eyes, removed the gun from you to lift his hand to his face. As he did so, he lifted the hood so that you could watch his mouth as he licked your spit from the glove, tasting the sour sting of your bile and vitriol. You saw his pale, ghostly lips, scarred and maligned, peel away from sharp incisors as he laved his tongue across the back of his hand, clad in shining silver like two daggers. The rest of his teeth were bright and straight and ready.

The pain you felt from the butt of his gun was sudden and shattering. The crack of your cheekbone exploded in your face like a collapsing star, white hot and dying. You felt like you were dying. You landed, face down in the mud, vomiting and coughing and crying. There was nothing more meaningful than your sobbing, and your body prioritized it over everything else. 

Your assailant knelt in the muddy bank of the bayou with you, letting his boots dip into the shallow waters where minnows hoped to feed on the larvae that lay sprinkled across the surface like salt in a stock. He had removed his gloves and was cupping your face, gently soothing the wound that he had caused. That pale, bloodless mouth was kissing you, leaving a trail of little, soft contacts over the ruined skin on your face, and the blood from his cut was staining him crimson. He replaced the hood and picked you up off of the ground. 

At first, you couldn’t walk, and all the blood that had been pressed out of your lower extremities was now flooding back in, making your bones ache from the inside out. You stumbled next to him, and he carried you like you were as light as his sidearm. One of his men approached you and spoke to your tall devil in his language, foreign and loud. 

They’d robbed the small train station, killing Mr. Fusilier, and they blew up the track, stopping the sheriff from being able to send for help. Sheriff Guidry was dead, laying in the small graveyard next to the church, and you found it odd that he’d died laid over a headstone. You were sure there was poetry there, but you weren’t smart enough to know what kind. 

Your captor handed you off to one of his men, a thin, wiry man with a large mustache. He smelled like sulfur and tobacco. His grip was weaker than the hangman’s, and there was a coldness to his touch that made you uncomfortable. 

He was taking you back up to your house. You didn’t know whether or not it was worth it to fight him off. He was smaller than the other one, but your cheek still throbbed, fresh and mean. He sat you down at your own kitchen table like it wasn’t yours, like you hadn’t cleaned its worn oak slats every morning since you were old enough to hold a rag. 

Yanking out a chair beside you, he sat, rolling a long cigarette, and leaving the twisted matchstick on the tabletop, marring the grain. You wanted to rail against him, to wail and scream that he was ruining it, that your mother had set all of her meals down in that very spot — crawfish etouffee, filé gumbo, rice and beans — and that you missed her laugh and the way she smelled like white pepper and rosemary oil. 

The cheek that had been hit couldn’t have throbbed any harder, and something twisted within you wished that the large man was still there, wiping away the hurt. 

The one with the mustache spoke in a slow, Texan drawl,

“What’s your name?”

You rolled your eyes up to meet his, hoping that the hate you felt was loaded in them like the bullets in his gun, 

“Eve.”

“Like the Bible?”

You didn’t reply. He grabbed you around your knee and pulled you towards him, your chair screeching across the floor,

“Bitch, I’m talkin’ to you. You think you’re too good for me, huh? Fuckin’ whore.”

You were on the table then, spread out and plated like a red fish, all meat and bones and sauce. He was going to eat you alive, and what could you do about it? Your bound hands bit into each other like the fangs of a snake. You kicked out, hard, but he caught you. 

Then, you felt his hands ripping away the fabric of your cotton dress. There wasn’t much left of it to ruin. You wondered if the button you mended last week on the collar was still intact. You were never as good as buttons as your mother was. 

Dirty fingers dug around between your legs, finding what they wanted to, shoving aside your bloomers and wetting themselves one by one, dipping into you brutally, soaking the pads over and over like a candle was dipped in wax, like a pen into a font of ink, and you hoped it stained him. 

You screamed until he stopped you, planting a smelly hand across your mouth. You bit it, taking his bitter flesh with you. 

“Ah, fuck! Son of a bitch!”

Clutching his wound, he backed away from you. Then, when he raised his eyes, he looked behind you at a horror you could not see. Then, he died on your kitchen floor. The bullet sliced through his dark brown eye and splattered his brain and face all over your kitchen counter. There were two big, flaky biscuits left over from your breakfast that morning, and they looked like someone had slathered them in a rich, fruity compote. 

You wanted to see who had saved you, but you knew already. His huge boots made the table rattle beneath your burning wrists, and you could hear his enraged breathing, dampened by the mask. It was your Hessian.

He stood over you for a moment, looking disturbed by your appearance. You had disappointed him somehow. You were crying, but you didn’t stop for his benefit. It wouldn’t matter anyway, you figured. Might as well give in to the feeling. 

Your body was being lifted, carefully, and carried to your father’s bedroom. It was the nearest to the kitchen, just off of the first hallway. A cross-stitch goose you’d made when you were twelve hung neatly on the wall below the lantern. You remembered the way the threads used to sound when they ran to and fro through the linen. The goose wore a little blue bow, and her beak was the most beautiful goldenrod yellow. 

The giant man lay you on your bed, the blood from your wrists surely ruining your duvet. Was it still your duvet? Did you actually own anything anymore?

The mattress sagged under your weight, and it groaned deeper as it sagged under his. 

He unbound your wrists and took a careful look at them. Then, he peeled away the ripped edge of your dress, shaking his head sadly,

“I am sorry, Liebling. My men should know better than to touch what is mine.”

You let tears and snot run freely down your face. 

“What is your name?”

The same question. And why did it matter? Who gave a shit what your goddamn name was? It wasn’t going to help you. 

“...E-Eve…”

“Eve...” He dragged out the vowels like he had dragged you into the house, slowly and against your will.

“I have been called many names,” he leaned down to your neck to smell your skin, whispering into it, “But, you may call me Kӧnig.” 

When his hands ran up under your dress, they did not fumble, they were not brutal, and yet the pain of them hurt you anyway. He didn’t force you to open, but your body yielded to him nonetheless, wilting for him like a flower in the sun. You became pliant, and your sobs went from desperate to something laden with strife. You had not consented to his touch, and yet your body welcomed him in with open arms, eager to host the traitor at the gate.

He knelt. As he began to lick you between your legs, he smelled your scent, lifting his hood and letting it pool along your belly, cold as his hot mouth made wet contact with your skin. The way he suckled from you reminded you of the calves in the spring, pumping their mouths onto their mothers’ teats and filling their throats with her warm cream, selfish and relentless. His nose tickled the dark curls above your folds, and you wondered if he was being teased by them, if his nostrils could smell your fear and if they misunderstood it as desire. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, pleased, “You are so sweet, my little Eve. So eager for me, hm?”

A growling sob escaped from your throat, and all at once you felt like you would vomit again. He caught your face in his hands before you did, lowering you to the floor and holding your jaw up to face him. Knocking off his hat, he pulled the hood from his face and you saw the gruesomeness there. It wasn’t as bad as you’d feared. Your mother had always told you that the promises of the darkness never amounted to much in the light. You wondered how true that was now. 

“I will show you how eager you make me, Liebling.”

He pulled off the button fly of his cotton britches, and his heavy cock tumbled out of them, rolling into the center of his body, pounding with blood and want. He placed the tip at your lips, and although he could have ignored your volition, he begged you instead, providing you with the illusion of choice. 

“Kiss it for me, Eve. Be a good girl for your Kӧnig, ja?”

You did not comply. You were your mother’s daughter after all. 

He shoved your face onto his length with a calm sort of precision. You didn’t bother to make it easy on him, letting your teeth drag against the velveteen slip of skin, nor did you bite down. You were already dead, and you had decided to act like it. 

“Are you not pleased, Liebe? I will give you what you want then,” he laughed quietly to himself, the curl of his smile broken into shards by his scarring, “Silly me. Playing my little games. I am such a tease.”

He pushed you to the ground, shoving your face into the floorboards, letting you look under your own bed. You saw small piles of dirt and a glittering ornament, lost from the last Christmas you’d had. You felt him preparing you from behind. Although you had not married him, you and an old beau had gotten this far. But, this was something else. The way he stretched you was like an intrusion. Your hip bones ached under his drooling rod, and you could feel the sharp tear of your thin skin. 

“Oh, Scheiße! So tight for me. I want to come in you already, my darling.”

You let him fill you, and you tried to ignore the electric pleasure that he crafted in you, spinning a spell over you and forcing your orgasms with his cock and hand, one after the other, making you tremble beneath him, laughing all the time,

“So pretty. Coming for me just like a dream. Such a good girl, Eve.”

You were out of tears. 

After he was finished with you, he carried you to his horse and put you in the saddle, climbing up behind you and taking the reins. You felt his come and your blood dripping out of you and onto the black leather, wetting you between your thighs, making you slide across the seat, back and forth. 

The hot wind blew in your face as he rode you out of town, and you saw the smoke from all of the burning buildings floating high, high into heaven. And you wondered if God could smell the mesquite bark as it smoldered.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #konig call of duty #konig #konig smut #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #dark!konig

[gsstories]

When Autumn Starts

A nearby forest has been mysteriously burnt down two weeks ago. It had happened the day of an eclipse and it just happened randomly! People are worried and keep talking about what could have happened. They had no clue the reason was a small, fiery fairy who held a grudge against humanity…

Right now, he was wandering around the place, seeing how things have changed while he was imprisoned. He was astonished by the cars, the cellphones, everything! He had to see more!

The fairy flew near the window of an apartment at the top of a bakery and looked inside. It was a room that was a pastel yellow color with a nice bed, a study desk with some books, sewing materials, a sewing machine, next to the desk a mannequin an unfinished red suit, and there being a separate desk with three computer monitors, a microphone and a HUMAN was sitting on the chair, wearing cat eared headphones and wearing a hoodie that said ‘I cast gun, prepare to meet god’ and was playing a fighting game on his setup.

The guy couldn’t have been older than 15, had dark skin, long, brown hair, golden eyes, slightly big lips, his hair in a low ponytail and some bangs of hair covering his right eye.

“Uhh, guys? I died again.” The guy said.

From Eclipse’s perspective, he was rather confused. The human died? But he was still moving no? What did he mean by again? Can humans just died and keep moving nowadays? That didn’t make sense…

Now, from the human teen’s perspective, whose name is Daniel, it was like this…

“Are you serious?? We just started this round!” Another male sounding voice yelled, his name being ‘Ax’.

“Are you really that surprised? It’s Aspen we’re talking about.” Another male voice said, named ‘Brutus’.

“You need help next round Aspen?” A third voice with a slight Russian accent asked Daniel, or ‘Aspen’ on stream, this guy named ‘KoKo’.

“I would say no but that’s a big fat lie.” Aspen mumbled.

“Where’d CJ go?” A fourth voice with an even stronger Russian accent asked, the guy named ‘Apollo’.

“Knowing him, massacred a bunch of people already.” Brutus said as they heard evil giggling.

“That’s exactly right!” A fifth voice, one a tad bit higher than the other boys’ said, giggling mischievously, this one called CJ.

“LeLe must love you right now.” Aspen chuckled at this.

“She loves CJ no matter what he does.” KoKo responded. “Fucking simp.”

A comment rolled in the chat of the stream. It read:

LeLeNotPons: ‘Says the one who keeps calling his ‘best friend’ his wife when on stream.’

“Hey, I am not the one who rambles about the merman every chance I get, so shut it.” KoKo argued with the comment.

“Hey Aspen, how do you feel about your husband and sister-in-law fighting?” Brutus questioned the eladrin VTuber.

“Kinda hot on KoKo’s part.” Aspen answered, making Ax start chuckling and soon enough the whole group started laughing. “Am I wrong?!”

Daniel then started smelling something. Something was… burning? But he didn’t have anything cooking and his parents were down in his bakery. Couldn’t be his lil brother, he cannot reach a stove and his sister was with Helena (aka LeLe, KoKo’s sister). The young man turned around in his chair only to find the sight of a kind of tall yet still smaller than him, like barely reaching his leg I think, of a humanoid creature with its head having what looked like red flower petals but still not? The creature’s face and body was half really dark brown, and orange, its cheeks seemingly having what would be considered blush that could only be found on dolls, sharp teeth, mismatched eyes with the irises being orange while the right sclera was a yellow color, almost white while the left one was pitch black. It wore a ragged and torn cloak over its shoulders and dusty red and orange striped pants with no shoes.

Besides the creature, a paper was burning on Daniel’s desk. Daniel and the creature stared at each other for a while the paper just burned.

“Hey guys, I gotta mute myself for a moment, something caught on fire.” Aspen said.

“Only you bud.” Apollo said as the others laugh.

Daniel muted himself, walked out of his room, brought a fire extinguisher and put the fire out before it could spread. He kinda covered the creature with the foam though.

“Alright, now that that’s been dealt with…what the absolute FUCK are you?!” Daniel exclaimed, now freaking out.

“What is this? It’s foamy.” Eclipse wondered, completely ignoring Daniel’s question as he tasted the foam. “Tastes weird.”

“You’re tiny! And cute! But also kind of like you would commit arson! Did you make the paper burn?” Daniel asked as he looked at Eclipse’s form.

“Yes, that was me.” Eclipse said as he grinned.

“Arsonist then, called it.” Daniel mumbled as he held onto his ponytail. “Just- What ARE you??”

“I am a fairy. I thought you humans would be able to recognize us better. Bummer you don’t.” Eclipse said.

“Fairies are fucking real?” Daniel mumbled.

Now Eclipse was looking at Daniel who was having an existential crisis over what is real and what is not. It was rather amusing for Eclipse to see a human in distress like this.

“Okay, uhhh, who are you?” Daniel asked.

“Why should I tell you my name?” Eclipse asked the human, tilting his head a bit.

“Because if I don’t have a name, Imma just call you Mosquito because you came in, decided to freak me out on stream, and the pointy nose also reminds me of a mosquito.” Daniel said.

“Do NOT call me mosquito!” Eclipse growled at the human boy.

“Then give me a name to call you! It’s not that hard!” Daniel said. “It’s either that, Mosquito or Mosco cause you are rather big for a mosquito.”

Eclipse was getting rather annoyed at this human. He’s in the presence of a fairy, a real life fairy, and he dares insult him like this? Humans haven’t changed, he guessed.

“Fine. It’s Eclipse.” Eclipse huffed.

“Thank you for giving me a name. I’m Daniel, nice to meet ya. Why are you in my house?” Daniel asked.

“I’ve been… wandering around the place recently. Just trying to see how things have changed in the human world is all. I haven’t been here in quite a while.” Eclipse said as he took out his wings and flew around the room, staring at everything.

“Oh! Okay, I see. So, you were somewhere else then?” Daniel asked.

“Something like that, yeah.” Eclipse said as he looked at a bundle of plushies of some characters before flying over to the unfinished suit.

A bit ominous to Daniel’s liking but it was fine.

“What’s this?” Eclipse asked as he stared at the suit.

“Oh, that’s a suit someone commissioned me to make for them. It’s still a work in progress.” Daniel said.

Eclipse decides to be a lil evil shit and summons a flame in his hand. However, he was drenched in the foam from before, causing his fire to die.

“Hey!!” Eclipse yelled in annoyance.

“Do NOT try and ruin it, I spent WEEKS working on that!” Daniel said as he glared at the fairy.

“Oh please, like it’ll matter in the end.” Eclipse hissed at the human.

“It still matters to me. Just because you are a magical creature does not mean you are entitled to destroy the hard work of others. Calm your damn shit or I will make you!” Daniel said.

“Oh yeah? And how will you do that?” Eclipse asked with a challenging grin.

“You may not be a mosquito or a fly but I can take you out like such still. I am NOT afraid to swat you!” Daniel said as he crossed his arms.

Both human and fairy stared each other down for a long while, just glaring at each other. Eventually, Eclipse huffed and looked away.

“Whatever.” Eclipse mumbled.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a stream to get back to.” Daniel said as he walked over to his computer.

“What’s a stream?” Eclipse asked as he flew behind Daniel.

“It’s a way for me and my friends to make content for our channel, interacting with our viewers, all that.” Daniel said as he put his headphones on and unmuted himself. “Sorry guys, there was a big ass mosquito I had to deal with after the fire.”

Eclipse scrunched up his face at that but didn’t say anything as he sat on the desk. Daniel glanced at him but didn’t say anything. May as well let the fairy watch.

•

•

•

•

•

•

About two hours had passed and the stream was finally over. Daniel said bye to his friends and took off his headphones. Eclipse was still on the desk, looking curious at what he watched for the last 2 hours.

“What was all that?” Eclipse asked.

“What was what?” Daniel asked.

“All of that! The images were moving… and you controlled it with that… what’s that??” Eclipse asked as he pointed at the keyboard.

“My keyboard? Well, I sometimes use it to play games on my computer but other times I use a controller.” Daniel said.

“Controller?” Eclipse repeated.

“I’m gonna have to teach you everything don’t I?” Daniel mumbled. “Listen, I don’t mind helping you out with all this stuff, it’s very new to you, that is clear. But please don’t burn anything, I don’t want anything important to get damaged.”

“No promises~” Eclipse grinned, making Daniel sigh.

“Okay, whatever.” Daniel mumbled. “By the way, what’s up with your clothes?”

“My clothes?” Eclipse asked as he looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They look rather damaged. Plus you aren’t wearing any shoes.” Daniel said.

“I have not been able to get new clothes in a long time.” Eclipse mumbled.

“I see… Well, your clothes gotta be changed.” Daniel said.

“I am fine like this.” Eclipse said as he crossed his arms.

“Doubt it. I think I have some clothes your size, I do make mini clothes for dolls.” Daniel mumbled as he searched through some drawers.

“I am telling you, I am perfectly fine with what I am wearing.” Eclipse said, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

“Could have fooled me.” Daniel muttered as he found some small clothes. “There we go! Found em!”

“I am not wearing your human made drags!” Eclipse said with a glare.

“Come on, it’ll be fine!” Daniel said.

“No way!” Eclipse exclaimed before taking out his wings and flying out of Daniel’s room.

“Hey hey, don’t fly away like that! My parents could be in the apartment!” Daniel yelled as he ran after Eclipse.

Daniel and Eclipse went through a cat and mouse chase for a while, Daniel occasionally having to save some stuff that was knocked off by Eclipse flying around. Luckily, Daniel’s parents were still busy with the bakery so they didn’t see the scene that was happening at the moment. After a while, Daniel was able to catch and swaddle Eclipse in a fluffy towel, one of those small ones used to dry your hands. Eclipse was a huffy and struggling mess until he eventually gave up. He could have burned the towel easily but it actually felt kinda nice, not like he would admit it.

“Listen, I won’t force you to wear the clothes. At least TRY them and if you don’t like them, ya can keep wearing your old clothes.” Daniel said as he brought back a swaddled Eclipse to his room.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Eclipse huffed as Daniel unwrapped him from the towel. “You really made these yourself?”

“Mmhmm! I have wanted to be a fashion designer one day so I have been practicing ever since I was a kid. I think I became quite decent at it.” Daniel said rather proudly.

“Right.” Eclipse said as he took the clothes and looked them over.

“BRB, I gotta check on the bakery.” Daniel said as he walked out of the room, closing the door.

Eclipse watched as Daniel left. How odd, he could easily destroy everything that Daniel loved right at that moment when he was gone but he still trusted him? A naive kid. A nice one but still naive.

Eclipse looked back at the clothes.

Maybe he could wait for a few days before causing much damage… The clothes don’t seem that bad anyway.

(This was so fun to write! Fairy Eclipse belongs to @ayyy-imma-ninja, hope I did the boy Justice lol! Daniel/Aspen is my Oc, I love him! Hope you enjoyed this!)

((Bonus: Daniel’s avatar, Aspen, in Autumn form!))

#fairy au #dca fairy au #sundrop fairy #moondrop fairy #fairy eclipse #black sun fairy #dca fairy au comic #fnaf daycare au #fnaf dca #fnaf dca au #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #sundrop #fnaf moon #fnaf moondrop #moondrop #fnaf eclipse #oc #vtuber #au

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

Feathers And No Flaws

Summary: Welcome to the day in the life of a Princess of Concordia...

Warnings: Mentions of dead animals, slightly long

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No One's POV

In the land of Westeros, everyone knew who the King of the Seven Kingdoms was. King Viserys I Targaryen. However, our story begins somewhere far away from King's Landing or even Dragonstone. If you travelled North and navigated through treacherous waters from the furthest boarders for a few days, you would happen across an island. This is Concordia, on the very boarders of Westeros.

Concordia was quite isolated from the rest of the kingdoms, but they weren't entirely forgotten. Now, Concordia also had its own monarchy. King Maximus Arcane and his wife, Queen Galene Arcane. With their only child; Princess (Y/N) Arcane, First of Her Name. As she was their only child, that also meant she was the sole heir to the throne. A future responsibility that she was slowly being prepared for. As with all heirs. And (Y/N) was having a problem all heirs must face. The pressure to find a suitor. (Y/N) had to find a worthy man of a noble blood to sit beside her as her king. But, she wished to find a man who was pure of heart and kind. Easier said than done.

Most men were ambitious and hungry for power. (Y/N) could see their dark desires and turned them away. Which, of course, left her extremely limited for options. Don't get me wrong, she's a beautiful young woman. With her (h/c) hair and her (e/c) eyes that always held warmth and kindness in addition to her fair (s/c) skin. She was a jewel of the kingdom and was adored by all for her kindness, caring, witty and fun nature. But, she never strayed from the polite, proper and graceful princess she was brought up to be.

However, Concordia had a rather... unexpected history contained within the island itself. In times of old, when families were being made and the kingdoms were young, the most unlikely creatures came to Concordia to hide from being hunted down and slaughtered. And considering the distance between the lands, no one ever suspected anything. These creatures became nothing, but myth and legend to Westeros. Or, perhaps, just an old story to those who believed such beasts still existed. Concordia was a safe haven for these creatures. All manners of beings resided there. Griffins, Unicorns, the occasional dragon, leviathans, mermaids, sirens, some minotaurs, gorgans, vampires, werewolves. The list goes on and on. Most take shelter on mountains, deep in caves, within the dense forests or deep in the uncharted and treacherous waters. The people of Concordia could communicate with these beings, understand them, know how they feel and how they go about their lives. Intriguing, right? No wonder the House Arcane has a Griffin for its sigil. But, alas, let us embark on a tale of pain, plotting, love and lust...

******

Our tale begins with none other than Princess (Y/N), herself. Despite the chilly winds nipping at her nose and cheeks, she had a soft smile upon her face as she left the castle to head to where her griffin often resided. She always did her chores in the morning and she had to tend to her friend which often took the most time. So, she got up at the crack of dawn to begin. She arrived at the woods, smiling as she walked past other sleeping animals and creatures. A couple of wolf cubs, the occasional unicorn calf. And even some baby griffins. After a few moments, she found her griffin curled up in a ball, using his wings as a blanket. This was Alcatrax. Her dearest friend.

It made her giggle a little, seeing the big, intimidating and (sometimes) cranky Griffin curled up and snoozing like a cat. She was pretty sure the rumbles she heard was Alcatrax snoring. And so, it began. One of the challenges (Y/N) often faced with Alcatrax was the fact he was a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through a hurricane if he so wished. So, as you can imagine, it often took a lot of effort to wake him up. But, (Y/N) knew her griffin well and she knew just how to wake him up.

She dragged in a cow carcass after about ten minutes, the raw meat and blood producing its own unique smell. One such smell that Alcatrax instantly awoke to. Yes, the griffin who sleeps like a log wakes up to food. "Good morning, Alcatrax," (Y/N) said gently, putting his breakfast before him. The large grey griffin made a noise, equal to a grunt at his rider, almost as if he were saying 'good morning' back. He then began picking away at the carcass with his beak and talons. (Y/N) blocked out the sounds of bones cracking and breaking along with flesh being devoured as she helped fit on the saddle she would sit on. Once Alcatrax had finished his breakfast, he dipped his beak in a nearby lake, drinking his fill. As he did so, (Y/N) climbed onto his back, swinging a leg over the saddle and getting settled into it, her legs just in front of the wing joints; ready for a morning flight around the kingdom. Even griffins need their exercise.

Soon, Alcatrax was done and he knew the morning routine all too well. So, after he had drank the water he needed, he spread his massive grey feathered wings and began beating them against the air. The grass swayed beneath the gusts that were generated. Without any difficulty, Alcatrax's paws left the ground and they soared into the air. (Y/N) cheered, feeling the wind rushing through her hair as she gripped the saddle. Alcatrax heard the happiness and joy in his rider's voice as they soared above the clouds, the sun's orange rays shone upon them. She grinned, feeling the warm rays hitting her face.

They both enjoyed the peace of the early morning as Alcatrax flew through the air, circling the island and the kingdom, watching as more people woke up and went about their day. (Y/N) loved these sorts of mornings, seeing the kingdom she would one day rule, continuing its existence in peace and harmony. People from the city below saw the mighty grey griffin and smiled, knowing it was the princess they knew and loved.

Now, as you have guessed, Concordia has different customs that the rest of Westeros didn't have. Customs and that made them stand out and be considered strange. Such as, the people of Concordia didn't see kindness, generosity and love as a weakness. They treated people who deserved it with respect. They believed peace was the order of things, not power or ambition. In addition, women were considered equal to men, although political marriages still occured, they would try and at least make it a civil partnership. And to Concordia, its future was in the excellent hands of the princess.

But today was not going to be as happy as (Y/N) initially thought. Once her and Alcatrax finished their flight, landing in the large courtyard of the castle, she saw her parents and the royal court all outside. (Y/N) got off her griffin, taking off her gloves. "Mother? Father? Is all good well?" she queried. Their looks were solemn and Maximus held a note, presumably sent by raven. "My dear daughter, Queen Aemma has died in childbirth," Maximus said softly. (Y/N) paused. The Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, Aemma Arryn... had perished? Aemma was a good friend to Concordia. It hurt to know she had passed.

"What of the child?" she whispered, praying to the gods that it wasn't all bad news. Galene shook her head, making (Y/N) cover her mouth in horror. Mother and child?! She couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain King Viserys and his daughter -Princess Rhaenyra- were feeling. (Y/N) knew Aemma well and knew how loving she was to her family. She felt tears gathering in her eyes. "Are we allowed to attend her funeral?" she asked, to which her father nodded. All three would go to pay their respects to this terrible tragedy...

******

Hope that's good. I'm still looking into HOTD lore so please bare with if there were any mistakes in this and any future updates. I will be posting a Masterlist also. Enjoy.

#house of the dragon #westeros #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #otto hightower #alicent hightower #fantasy #daemon x reader #viserys x reader

[the-journal-in-law]

Truth Teller

Prompt from: @creweemmaeec11

A hero who has the ability to detect lies. At first, everything was great, they where hailed for their ability to interrogate villains and learn the truth of their undertakings.

The problem arose when hero started realizing just how many lies the politicians were telling, the police, their own bosses.

The worst part, was how expected they were to play along. Because to call them out...

Well, the hero would be lying if they said that was anything but a death sentence.

Part 2

"It's nice to meet you again."

"Sorry, I had an urgent appointment."

"Love your new hairstyle!"

Hero groaned at the headache the voices caused.

It wasn't the voices, per se, but the deceit in them. There was so much of it. It was like everyone in this event had a disease that made lies pour out of their mouths like water.

In this large ballroom of elegant architecture and shining silver accents, these people in expensive suits and fancy dresses were wolves in sheep's clothing. Every action was calculated, and every word said aloud was meant to suit one's agenda.

Case in point; the man approaching Hero.

He had greying hair and wore a classic red tie. "You must be the Hero everyone's been talking about lately! What are you doing in this dark corner of the room?"

To get away from people like you, they wanted to say.

"Is it true you captured the serial killer? I admire your dedication to your work."

Hero fixed a smile on their face, ignoring how their brain pinged the untruth. Just another politician wanting to cosy up to them. "I did ensure the serial killer's identity was proven, but the police played a big part in securing her," they replied smoothly.

The politician laughed. "You're as humble as the rumours!"

Another ping, but quieter. A half-truth. Was it that there were no rumours, or that he thought Hero was arrogant?

"Do you find joy in listening to the word of mouth?" Hero inquired, swirling their champagne glass.

"Aha." His laugh was weaker, a bit flustered. "Of course not! Um, if you'll excuse me, I think my wife is calling."

Hero tilted their head, watching him disappear into the crowd. Interesting how that last one had been truthful. Was he a coward or simply wise enough to know when to retreat?

They slid their gaze around the throngs of people, not paying attention to anything in particular.

Hero sighed.

A chuckle came from behind them. They tensed.

"Why such a pitiful sound?" A smooth voice, like silk on skin. It emitted charisma and power, like it had commanded hundreds of armies and convinced kings to do its bidding.

"You seem to know me." Hero trained their eyes straight ahead. "Will you introduce yourself?"

Another chuckle. "Will you not look at me?"

Hero stayed silent.

The way they phrased their sentences as questions, the ability to stay hidden from Hero's senses, and the absolute respect they radiated - Hero had an idea of who this was, and to meet their gaze would be suicide.

"Will you not look at me?" they repeated, coaxing.

Hero realised their body was subconsciously following the demand. They forcibly stilled, saying, "No."

"Interesting."

Hero blinked in surprise when the usually empty platitude didn't register as a lie.

"Do you know what my power is?"

Hero opened their mouth before they could stop themselves. "The power of suggestion. To plant ideas into people's heads. To take control of their mind through eye contact."

"Good," they purred, and Hero flushed. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes."

"Do you know why I'm speaking to you?"

"No."

They leaned down, mouth hovering above Hero's ear. Their breath was warm. "I want to recruit you."

Truth.

"What makes you think I'd join you?" Hero asked stoically.

A huff. "Isn't it obvious? You should know better than anyone how corrupt this society is."

Hero didn't refute that.

Seemingly satisfied, a hand slipped something into their breast pocket. "Call me when you make up your mind."

When Hero turned around, they were gone.

#heroes and villains #hero x villain #villain x hero #writing snippet #writing #prompt fill

[myriadparacosm]

Sirius' Weird Taste

Sirius has very peculiar taste - which is good and thankfully he doesn't make that a big part of his personality but you can see it just with Remus, who at an early point of their relationship really considered if Sirius wasn't dating him because of his lycanthropy. After all he has a lot of scars and this affected his whole appearance since he got it very young. He isn't attractive by popular standards although he is tall but too lanky for it to look natural and his skin has some dents from the scars even when it heals back to his natural skin colour. He also has too much hair, be it facial or anywhere else, and whether it's natural or not too much wrinkles and eyebags for his age. It has happened that students took him as a new professor if he wasn't wearing his school's robes.

His point is that by all standards Remus would be considering ugly, something he has stopped saying at loud because every single one of his friends would bemoan or scold him and come up with senseless arguments. He will never know if he would have looked any different without the bite so he learnt to deal with it but it still leaves the question on how Sirius Black ever fell for him. Remus isn't stupid or oblivious like he might like to act time to time which is why he is fully aware that Sirius is smitten with him - despite everything; although Remus honestly can't judge him on that because if Sirius is down for him then Remus is so far down he might fall off the earth for Sirius.

Sirius has assured him many times that he doesn't like Remus for his lycantropy - which is a bit of rude question when we just snogged twice Moony - and that even without his fancy scars he would bend over for him. All his friends have helped him make peace with his werewolf counterpart, Sirius particularly, but only because they are the same person with just one side more moody - but you give Moony a fair opponent, Sirius said before kissing him.

Remus has learnt all Sirius' whims and his likes or dislikes - how he dresses up like a bloody deity before bringing the ugliest looking sweater ever as a gift because of how amazingly ugly it is which is why it's pretty? He also noticed how Sirius likes crups or hippogriff, always trying to pet them with compliments, but what really seems to really make him go is the weirdest things. The first time Sirius saw a platypus at the zoo, one of their dates, he couldn't stop laughing and yet didn't want to move on - Who cast a spell on it? What is it supposed to be? Why did you pick that nose and short legs you dimwit? You look silly. Let's get one!

Murtlap? Sirius insults them over their 'haircuts' and 'why are you still naked you twat' as he fed and pet them in their Care of Magical Creatures class. Which is surprisingly not him making fun of them but just his weird way of loving them, with silly insults and teasing.

Remus has realised it is exactly how Sirius and Regulus act with each other so the insults really must be just obscure petnames. So Remus supposes that sometimes that's how Sirius just show his love; it's not like they never insulted each other before and while kissing or cuddling.

So Remus is used to Sirius' surprising taste even if he can't always predict them. Like this weird-shaved cat that he proudly shows him. It looks like it came back from war but not in one piece with how odd its black dark grey fur looks to the touch and some spots almost completely naked. You could easily think that someone did it because the poor cat has no fur around his eyes and mouth.

"What is that supposed to be?"

"It's a werewolf cat."

"What?"

"It looks incredible, doesn't it? I know we are dog people but I love her and she is very sweet," Sirius explains as the cat rubs herself against his chin. "The muggles call them werewolf cats because of how rugged they look so I thought she fits perfectly for us. Also sometimes she will be butt-naked because she moults but we don't want a pervert prancing in our home so I'm going to make her clothes."

So they call her Garou - because we have a theme Moony - and she is very sweet with Remus, rubbing, slow-blinking and all at him - because you are related - even if he almost got a heart attack when he went to the loo in the middle of the night and she stood there like a dead animal ressurected. While Sirius and Garou spend their time badmouthing each other, or at least he supposes because Garou likes to meow whenever Sirius talks about her. What did I tell you about strutting around naked? Oh you don't speak to me like that you bald lady. If you didn't look already homeless I would throw you out.

Sirius tries to teach her to attack Regulus but somehow James becomes her prey. Sirius also goes out with her, walking or shopping, throwing dark looks at anyone who looks at them weirdy.

Remus finds no reason to complain and if anything he is more amazed and amused every time.

#hp marauders #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders headcanon #remus loves sirius #sirius being sirius #I just love werewolf cats I'm sorry #remus x sirius #the marauders #myriadparacosm

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Big Picture

The Four Swords manga, adapted/retold using both canon and additional scenes, with a focus on Vio and Shadow's individual characters and ambiguous relationship.

Prologue: Evil Interview

He gains sentience inside an elevator.

He is a cloud of charcoal-colored smoke, taking solid form as the world moves beneath his feet. Feet—he has feet. He has legs. He has a torso. He has a chest, and a heart that beats within it... oh, that might become a problem.

Read the rest on ao3 or under the cut:

JANUARY

He gains sentience inside an elevator.

He is a cloud of charcoal-colored smoke, taking solid form as the world moves beneath his feet. Feet—he has feet. He has legs. He has a torso. He has a chest, and a heart that beats within it... oh, that might become a problem.

The top floor. He’s going to the top floor. It’s the only floor, the only button, lit up blood-red on the metal panel. Machinery churns as he’s lifted upwards, his pointed ears twitching at the unpleasant sound.

A body, a face, and a brain. Eyes, a nose. Hair—not blonde, he much prefers purple. A black tunic and hat like a gnarled phantom limb. It sways nervously behind him as the doors slide open.

The office lobby is dimly-lit, its sole window revealing an even darker landscape. A mountain range is silhouetted in the distance, the land beneath it peppered with dense forests and eerily glowing lakes. Over the trees he spots monstrous figures—dragons, he somehow knows—patrolling the air. It feels unlike daytime or nighttime (not that he's seen either), too unsettling to be calm but too calm to be unsettling.

He knows things, he's realizing, as the elevator doors close behind him. He is a new creation, yet he knows the difference between day and night.

He must have been here before. Not here, as in this lobby, but alive—knowledgeable about the world and his role within it. But that part of himself, the part that isn’t new, the part that simply understands how to exist… he can't fully access it. Not in a way that matters. Smoke still licking at his heels, he feels like an echo, a ghost, a—

“Shadow,” The hinox office receptionist scrutinizes him with one narrowed eye. “Shadow Link.”

He points to himself with a sharp-nailed finger. “Who, me?”

The receptionist sighs and points towards a wooden door. “They’re waiting for you in there.”

─────────────────

‘In there’ is a cavernous conference room, devoid of windows or overhead lights. He—Shadow Link—supposes he belongs in a place like this, illuminated only by tall pillar candles dripping wax onto the linoleum floor. The table in the center of the room could hypothetically seat about thirty people of his size, but only currently seats one. Shadow Link stares into the darkness beyond the candlelight’s reach, barely identifying a form at the table’s opposite end.

From what he can see, the form does not even remotely resemble his own. It has a circular body and several wings, an odd crescent shape on its head like a crown. Its stillness unnerves him, as does its silence. It’s only his best guess that he should take a seat at his own end of the table.

Once comfortable (enough), Shadow Link clears his throat. “Uh… hello?”

A large glowing eyeball opens in the distance, startling him to roll backward in his chair. Sheepishly, he scoots himself back into place.

“Shadow Link,” a voice says, reedy and dry with unmasked impatience. “I am sure you’re aware of why you’ve been brought here today.”

Not at all, he thinks, and wonders if he’s the kind of person who admits his own ignorance like a fool. Given that sentiment, he quickly decides he is not.

“Of course,” he says, clasping his hands on the table.

“I see,” says the giant eyeball, and Shadow Link actually finds that kind of funny, because it (he?) is literally a giant eyeball. “And you are smiling because…?”

Shadow Link stops smiling. It’s not that funny.

“I am impressed that you already understand your purpose, Shadow Link,” says a distinctly different voice. It’s deep and low, sourced from no particular direction but somehow filling the entire room. For some reason, Shadow Link knows he’s heard it before.

“Yeeeeaaah,” he says, his bravado quickly fading. “But I mean… you should probably still say why you think I’m here. Just to make sure we’re on the same page.”

This provokes a loud slam, like a fist on a desk. “You dare question me—Lord Ganon, King of Evil, and your very creator?”

Shadow Link winces. “Uh. Noooo?”

“Respectfully, Lord Ganon,” says the disrespectful eyeball, “this interview charade seems like an unwise use of our time. Did you not bring the applicant into existence to assume this exact position?”

“I did,” answers Lord Ganon, and Shadow Link feels the weight of those words on his shoulders. “So let us discuss what the position entails.”

Shadow Link wants to ask if he gets to be a Lord too, but decides against it. As far as he knows, ‘Shadow’ is already a title.

“We have much to discuss,” says Lord Ganon. “You have an important role to play, Shadow Link.”

He straightens in his chair. “So I got the job?”

Vaati’s eye rolls.

“Yes,” Lord Ganon says, “you got the job.”

He has the urge to shake someone’s hand—but Lord Vaati only has wings, Lord Ganon seems to be working remotely, and he himself only got hands like ten minutes ago, so he’d probably be pretty uncoordinated. Hopefully by the next time it’s appropriate to give a firm business handshake, he’ll be a little more experienced.

“Great,” Lord Vaati says with even greater annoyance. “I’m so glad I attended this important and necessary meeting.”

“Hold your tongue,” Lord Ganon warns. “Shadow Link will see you freed into the world of the light. If not for him, you would be trapped in the Dark World indefinitely.”

Shadow Link nods, relieved to be getting some idea of his assigned role. He isn’t sure which superior he prefers—the one who view him as a shameless nepotism hire, or the one who nepotism-hired him in a position far above his apparent qualifications. But then again, who’s to say he isn’t qualified for whatever purposes Ganon has yet to fully establish? He was created for them, after all!

“Yes, Shadow Link, you will do great things,” Ganon says, and his words invoke the oddest feeling. How can a compliment feel so much like a threat? “You will free the Wind Mage, wreak havoc on Hyrule, and pave the way for darkness to consume the light.”

“I see,” Shadow Link says, a small grin growing on his face. He’s not so sure about the Wind Mage stuff or the dark and light, but wreaking havoc does sound fun. Certainly more fun than the not-existing he’d been doing before.

Which… before. What had he been doing before? Not him, not really, but someone casting a shadow. A shadow that, to the original person’s knowledge or not, has been granted personhood of its own.

Shadow Link. He is Shadow Link.

“Before we discuss your employment,” Lord Ganon says, “it is customary to ask: Do you have any questions for us?”

Shadow—just Shadow now, he's decided—stares into the inscrutable darkness, his hat flicking behind his back.

“Yeah, I have a question: who the hell is Link?”

#fs #four swords manga #four swords #four swords adventures #shadow link #vaati #my writing #tagging this with future elements in the fic even if they're not in this chapter #vio link #vidow #i'm really excited to finally start writing/post this!!

[ktwritesstuff]

Some Like It Heavy (a stranger things fanfic)

Title: Some Like It Heavy Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Eddie x plus-size femme reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Banging Eddie at the Hideout to teach a groupie a lesson (So, technically also an Eddie lives! fix it fic).  Lyrics and title inspo from Halestorm’s “I Like it Heavy.” Can be read as a follow-up to Kashmir or as a stand alone. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl Additional notes & tropes below the cut.

Tropes & Content Warnings: dirty, nasty adult fun times, public sex, rough sex, voyeristic intentions

I like it louder than the boom of a big bass drum / I need it harder than the sound of guitar grunge… And just like old school Sabbath, Zeppelin and Lemmy / I need to drop it down low and make it heavy

You hadn’t seen Eddie in weeks. Corroded Coffin was on their first official tour.  They were opening for a popular thrash metal band from Chicago on the Midwestern leg of their nation-wide tour.  He called when he could, but not as much as you would have liked.

They finally landed back in Hawkins after amassing what Nancy Wheeler’s editorial called a modest, but “cult-like following.”  (Because that’s what Eddie had asked her to call it.  Because he found the irony hilarious.)  It would have been nice to get the band back together–in a manner of speaking–but Dustin was away at MIT, Robin and Vickie had moved to the Bay Area last summer.  Nancy and Steve wanted to come out, but their babysitter bailed at the last minute, so in the end, it was just you.

You packed a change of clothes and headed straight to the bar after your late shift at Bradley’s.  Even on Fridays, you could usually find premium parking at the Hideout, but tonight the place was packed.  It was crazy to think how much Corroded Coffin had blown up in such a short time as you fixed your makeup in the neon light of the Coors sign.  

You were proud of Eddie, of course, but also a little scared.  Maybe part of the reason the band had gotten so much attention on the road was because of everything that happened.  Although they took their sweet time doing it, the Feds had officially cleared Eddie of any wrongdoing, but rumors still circulated.  

These people didn’t know Eddie, not like you did.  Did they understand that he was a good guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time?  That when the world turned its back on him, he did everything in his power to save it anyway?  Mostly, you realized, you were just nervous (and maybe a little sad) for how much things had changed.

Inside the Hideout the air was hot and humid; the whole place stank of weed and stale beer and body odor.  At the bar you asked for a double shot of tequila; dreading having to force your way into the pit.  Eddie must have been over-the-moon to have people moshing to Corroded Coffin.  

You moved slowly through the crowd, going with the flow and letting people bump against you–sometimes having extra padding had its benefits–and throwing the occasional elbow or hip-check as necessary.  No one seemed particularly offended as you made your way to the front of the stage, squeezing in right next to one of the amps.  The music was so loud you could feel it pulsing through your whole body.  

You could tell Eddie was nervous, but he made a charming frontman as he introduced the band before they barrelled into Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid.”  The stage lights were near-blinding, but you thought Eddie might have spotted you when he started moving across the stage.  

You raised one arm to wave, but he stopped just right of center stage in front of a group of three screaming women with uniform peroxide-blond hair, dark eyeliner, and over-lined lips.  They looked to be in their forties–though they were probably younger–too many cigarettes and too much sun taking their toll. 

You rolled your eyes as Eddie leaned over, really hamming it up.  He had always been a flirt–especially on stage–and you were used to it.  What you didn’t like was one of the women reaching up to grab at the inseam of his pants.  

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he tried to back up, but before he could the other two had their hands on him and for a horrifying moment, you thought they would manage to pull him off stage.

“Hey!  Knock it off!” you practically screamed, just barely able to hear yourself over the music.

The guitar riff faltered as Eddie used the body of his guitar to pry the women off.  As the song came to an end, he moved over to Gareth, pointing and pulling a face as he pantomimed stabbing at the crowd with the butt of his guitar.  They laughed it off, but it still didn’t sit right with you.

“Hey!” you screamed, pushing your way down the side of the stage until you caught the women’s attention.  “Don’t do that.  It’s not nice.”

“What are you, the bouncer?” one of the women sneered and they all laughed.

“Don’t grab people,” you said.  “You wouldn’t want someone grabbing you like that.”

“You probably wish someone would grab you,” the woman shot back.  “Fat bitch.”

You could feel your blood boil as the women went on to discuss their plans to sneak backstage after the show–as if the Hideout had a backstage, let alone one that required sneaking into.  

“Coffin Bangers.”  That was what Gareth and the others were calling them, though Eddie swore he would never. You believed him, or at least you did at the time.  They were no different from your high school bullies; the same ones who would never have given Eddie the time of day back then. He had to know that; didn’t he?

You grabbed a couple of beers from the bar before the set came to a close and wandered down the hall past the bathrooms to the green room–which was really just a converted supply closet where performers could stash their shit.  Like the rest of the bar, the floors were always sticky and the walls covered in phone numbers and lewd graffiti. 

You waited for Eddie as his bandmates emerged from the back one by one, eager to make their way back to the bar and their adoring fans.  Jerry offered you a lazy high five as he passed you in the hall.

“Go get him, tiger.”

You smiled, taking that as your cue to slip into the closet.  Eddie was just closing up his guitar case.  He had already shed his leather jacket–as good as he looked, it had to be sweltering–and stooped down to tighten the laces on his Docs. 

“Hey,” you said.

Eddie looked up, his eyes slowly traveling up to your face.  It felt good to be looked at, to be seen.  

“Hey,” he smiled, rising to his feet.  “You made it!”

You handed him the beer, looking him up and down, taking your time, making sure he noticed your meandering gaze. 

“Your number one fan.”

Eddie perched on one of the busted stools and took a swig of the beer.  He seemed tired, but happy.  

“How’d we sound?”

“Heavy.”

You inched toward him, watching him closely, the twitch of his fingers, the pulse in his neck, sweat beading at his temples.  

“You cut your hair,” you said.

“You like it?” he asked, throwing his head back and shaking from side-to-side. 

You nodded, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, which stopped just above his shoulders.  His curls were tighter without the extra length weighing them down.  His formerly blunt fringe was starting to grow out, blending in with the rest of his hair, save a few locks still plastered to his sweat-damp face. 

“I’m still getting used to it,” he admitted.  “It gets pretty hot under the lights–was thinking of chopping it all off.  Thought it might be less of a shock like this.”     

You bit your lip; Eddie cleared his throat. 

“Do you wanna have a couple drinks; listen to the other band?” he asked.

“I want you.”  

You slipped two fingers under his belt and pulled him closer.   Eddie’s grin widened.

“Let me grab my case and we can get out of here.” 

You shook your head.  Eddie may have been the musician, but you knew how to play him better than any Gibson. 

“Now,” you tugged harder at his belt.  “Or not at all.”

“Really,” Eddie chuckled, glancing around the supply closet.  “Well, what the lady wants, the lady gets.”

Eddie held your neck as he kissed you, slow and deep, his thumbs resting where your jaw met your ears.  He tasted like Molson and menthol cigarettes.  You knotted your fists in his sweat-damp shirt and pulled him close.     

“Let me lock the door.”

You could feel his heart pounding in time with yours as he finally broke the kiss, panting.  Out front, the late-night band was starting their set. 

“Leave it.”

You pulled him back toward you, circling him, pivoting until his back was to the door.  You shimmied out of your underwear and kicked them into the corner.  

“You know somebody’s gonna walk in here,” he warned, reaching back.  

You perched on one of the supply shelves, not certain it would support your weight, but willing to risk it.  

“That’s what makes it fun,” you said, spreading your knees, drawing Eddie between them.  “Besides, it’s not the worst thing anyone is going to see at this bar tonight.”

The women’s restrooms were rustic at best and rumor had it there was even a glory hole in the men’s.  You didn’t want to think about the UTI you were probably going home with; tomorrow you’d chug a gallon of cranberry juice and hope for the best.

“You’re right about that.”  Eddie chuckled, leaning down to kiss your throat.

You sighed, resting one hand on the back of his head as his hand slid over your thigh-high nylons and under your mini-skirt.  

You slipped your own hands under his shirt, your fingers dancing up past his happy trail to his chest, grazing the sensitive nipples. 

Eddie’s left hand pawed at your belly, making its way around your back to draw you closer. His other thumb circled your clit while his first and second fingers slid through your inner lips to explore your sopping wet entrance.

“You see how much I missed you,” you panted in Eddie’s ear, pinning the lobe between your teeth and tugging.

Eddie’s breath hitched as he nodded.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head.

You looped one arm around Eddie’s shoulder and slid the other hand down to grope him through his dark jeans–feeling him already stiff and hot.   

“Are you going to give me what I want?”

Eddie unbuckled his belt in a hurry and slid his pants down to his knees, taking his hands off you just long enough to roll on a condom (you wondered if he had been a boy scout in a past life, always so prepared) before thrusting into you to the hilt.

“Shit.”

You moaned, gripping the shelf above you as the glass bottles rattled with every thrust.  You dug your nails into Eddie’s back, letting your head fall back against a case of Budweiser.  

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, yanking your top out of the way to bury his face in the tops of your breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

“Still the best tits in Indiana.”

Eddie dipped his tongue into your cleavage as you wound your fingers into his hair. 

As the music from the bar reverberated down the hall, Eddie moved in time with the thrumming bass.  You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him into you. Even the tight sharpness of it felt good.

“Harder.”

Eddie pushed into you obligingly, gripping the shelves on either side of your head for support, bottoming out inside of you.  His girth stretched you open, the very tip of his cock pressing up against your sensitive cervix.  Eddie had a way of flicking his hips at the end of each stroke, massaging that same bundle of nerves from the inside, leaving you aching for more.  

“You like that?” 

Eddie moaned as you yanked his head back, sealing your mouth over his, biting down on his bottom lip until you tasted bright copper penny metallic. 

You pulled back to wipe your thumb over his split lip and met Eddie’s gaze, his pupils blown out, nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown of his irises.

“Harder,” you growled.  

The shelf under you creaked dangerously with each thrust. Eddie grabbed your ass, jerking your body forward to support more of your weight on his hips. Damn, had he always been able to manhandle you like this? 

“Fuck, yes.” 

You gasped as an electric jolt raced up your spine from your soaked and swollen pussy.  Your hands scrambled for leverage on the storeroom shelves. 

A bottle toppled off the shelf beside you and smashed on the floor.  You moaned as Eddie brought a hand to your face–protecting you from the spray of booze and possible shards of glass.  

“Damn, girl,” he gasped.  “I’m only human.”

You whimpered, running your hands down his back, grabbing his ass and squeezing hard.  You were both sweating, grunting, surprising yourself with how good it felt–embracing your horniness, your animal nature.  

“How’s it feel?” you said.

“Hot,” Eddie panted, bringing a hand to your breast.  “Heavy.”

You nodded, your nose brushing against Eddie’s.  He chuckled softly, his warm breath tickling your skin.  

“What else?”

“Soft,” he said.  “Wet.  Tight.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Eddie moaned as you ran your tongue up his throat–tasting the salty sourness of his body.  

You heard the door creak on its hinges.  Eddie turned to look, but you grabbed his face and pulled him into another open-mouthed kiss.  As your tongues moved together, just as naturally as the rest of your bodies, your eyes flickered open just long enough to catch a glimpse of blond hair in the harsh fluorescents.

You slid your hand out of Eddie’s hair, curling it into a fist at the nape of his neck, extending your middle finger.  After a moment you thought you heard the door latch, but it didn’t matter.  The whole bar could watch for all you cared. Fuck pretty and perfect; you wanted it dirty and gritty and hot as hell. 

You sank your teeth into Eddie’s shoulder as you came on his cock.  Your inner walls contracting and releasing around him in satisfying waves like the reverb of guitar strings. 

“Mine,” you sighed, raking your nails across Eddie’s back.  Even through his shirt, it’d leave a mark.  

Eddie moaned against your lips, nodding in agreement.  He had a familiar goofy look on his face; the one he always made right before he came.  

At least some things never changed.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things s4

[nakachuchu]

CHAPTER SIX: THE ABYSS

In the Dark series

SYNOPSIS: You bag a date after a death at your school.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.4k

WRITTEN: 03/18/2023

Hana let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the hallways, causing the students and teachers to jump in fear.

"Stay here, kids," Yaga told his students as he ran out to the source of the scream.

He was a big, hulking man, but even his size couldn't stop him from moving swiftly. The sound of heavy footsteps and a thump against the wall sent the group of teenagers into a panic.

Yaga looked around the school, his eyes darting like a hawk's hunting for its next meal. He spotted Hana immediately and ran towards her.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

He could see the fear in her eyes as she stared at him, wide-eyed and panting in terror. She swallowed hard and shook her head, her eyes still trained ahead into the abyss of the custodial closet.

"Hana, whose blood is that?"

Hana forced her eyes away from the darkness and looked down at her hands before erupting into tears. "I-It's n-not mine! I swear! Mr. Yaga, I swear it's not m-mine!"

"Hana!" he exclaimed, grabbing her firmly by the shoulders. "Whose blood is that?"

"I — I j-just came to g-grab something," Hana blabbered.

She was choking on her tears as she raised a shaky finger to the custodial closet. Yaga hesitantly stepped inside to flip on the light switch and the sight was horrid.

The janitor, Toji, was hanging from the ceiling of the custodial closet, his lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead.

His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his dark hair was matted against his face. His mouth was open, his teeth bared, and his body was rigid as if frozen in place. His body was stiff and cold, unmoving.

Yaga felt the air pressure change around him. It was suddenly cold and he could see why Hana was acting the way she was. His eyes scanned the room for any movement, but there was nothing.

Yaga stepped back out into the hallway, closing the door in the process. "I need to see your hands, Hana," Yaga said. "Show me your hands."

The words snapped her out of her reverie and she obeyed, pulling her forearms out of her sleeves and exposing her palms. Blood covered her hands and sweater.

"I-I needed paper towels a-and I just f-felt him," she whispered.

"I'm going to call the police, okay, Hana? Just don't touch anything."

She sniffled and nodded, wanting so badly to drown herself in a hot bath. She was shaking and her knees were weak. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were streaked with tears. She was parched and all the water in the world wouldn't help her now.

Yaga pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. "There's a dead body."

As the police were called and the school went into lockdown, rumors began to circulate about who or what could have done such a horrific thing. They knew it had to be Ghostface, but who was Ghostface?

The idea seemed crazy at first. Since Toji was found hanging from the ceiling, it had to be a suicide, but as more and more students began gossiping, it became harder to dismiss it as a murder. Words from other people’s mouths were getting into everybody’s heads and they didn’t know who to trust.

For starters, there were no signs of forced entry into the custodial closet, which meant that whoever killed Toji must have had a key or knew the code to the lock. Then, there was the motive.

Why would Toji kill himself at school and not at his own home? If it was murder, why would anyone kill the janitor? Why would they kill him in the closet and not drag him out? Why would they leave his body there?

“Why would anyone kill the janitor?” a student questioned.

“Why would anyone kill Kira? We don’t know jack shit,” his friend retorted.

These were questions without answers and every student and teacher had their theories.

Some believed it was one of the many ghosts that roamed the halls of the school, others thought it was one of the many ghouls that prowled the graveyards at night. Still, others believed that it was some deranged student or even a staff member. No one knew for sure and that was frustrating as hell.

As the investigation dragged on, the tension in the school grew thicker by the day. Students were too scared to stay after class, and teachers were afraid to walk the hallways alone.

The custodial closet was avoided at all costs, with rumors of strange noises and sightings of a ghostly figure lurking within its walls.

More police were stationed around the school for protection, and the district decided that the school should stay open after a week of remote learning.

After all, it was better for the kids to be in the building and have some form of supervision than to be home alone. This was the first month of the second semester and everything was going to shit.

You weren’t complaining since you needed to continue your extracurriculars for the sake of your future.

You needed those extra credits to add to your total unit points and make you look good on your college application.

You were the manager for Okkotsu Yuuta, a promising karateka at your school. Today, there was an important tournament, and as his manager, you had to be there to support him.

But you also had to be back in time for cheer practice during the meet, so you decided to drive separately from the school bus that was taking them to the stadium.

You left earlier than the bus would because you had to go set up your school’s banner at the tournament and set up the refreshments for the members before they got there.

Yuuta offered to go with you since you had never been to the stadium before, and while you were hesitant because you did not know him that well, you agree

"Thanks for driving me," he said, buckling his seatbelt. "I'm really nervous about this tournament."

You nodded, understanding his anxiety. "I know you'll do great, but you know, you basically invited yourself into my car. For all you know, I could be Ghostface.”

At Yuuta’s horrified face, you snickered. Realizing you were joking, he rolled his eyes and huffed.

“You are such a bad liar,” he said.

“I’m not lying,” you said.

Yuuta looked like he wanted to take off his seatbelt and jump out of your car, but then you decided to cut him some slack and smiled.

"Joking. I'm joking."He huffed again and you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered.

As you drove, Yuuta filled you in on the details of the tournament while giving directions. It was a bit of a headache to try and listen to him while driving.

You had a hard enough time concentrating on the road, and his rambling was making it harder.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, his voice tentative.

You blinked for a few moments, letting your brain process his words as you stopped at a stop sign and turned on your right blinker.

“Oh – “ You paused as you turned right and continued down the street “ – No, not really."

“Not really?” he questioned.

“I’m not interested in anyone like that, I mean. I've just been really focused on school and cheerleading."

Yuuta nodded, looking thoughtful. "I understand that," he replied. "I spend a lot of time practicing karate. But I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime? Maybe after the tournament?"

“A date? Huh, that’s new. Yeah, I’d love to,” you answered.

You weren’t expecting Yuuta to ask you out on a date. You only ever spent time together after school during practice. Plus, he was a star athlete at the school in a different way from Gojo.

Yuuta smiled, his eyes shining with excitement. "G-Great," he stuttered. "I'll plan something for us."

"Great, sounds fun."

You were almost late by the time you found parking. As you parked at the stadium, the two of you exited the car. Yuuta grabbed the large box of equipment, while you grabbed the cooler of refreshments.

"This place is huge," you said.

"It looks small when every school comes," Yuuta said.

"Yeah, how do they fit all these kids in here?" you muttered. "God, I can imagine the stench of sweat and boys."

“It’s not too bad,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the time. "Well, it is, but you get used to it."

"Gross," you muttered. "Well, let's set up before the tournament starts."

NEXT CHAPTER: (coming soon)

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu Yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #Ghostface #ghostface x reader

[gumnut-logic]

Catch

This is just a short little scene.

This is also @onereyofstarlight​ ‘s fault.

We have possible ship here, so be warned.

But it is just a scene.

I hope you enjoy anyway :D

-o-o-o-

“Tracy! Catch!”

He had split moment to spin on one heel as a firmly wrapped BLT was thrown in his direction.

He caught it without thought, specialised rubber squeaking against pavement as he shifted his weight. “You know you’re going to have to think of another name to call me if you’re going to work with all of us.” He put the sandwich down on the hood of her fire truck and undid his gloves. Bacon, lettuce and tomato did not go well with soot and ash.

His wrist control clunked on metal as he tapped in its security protection code.

The Scott in his head ranted about not letting the device leave his body when out in the field, but it was damned hard to eat his sandwich with it on.

Cass sauntered up him, her helmet perched back on her head, her grin breaking through over the huge bite she was taking out of her sandwich. “So what’s your callsign then, Tracy?”

He unwrapped his own. “Thunderbird Two, most times.” He didn’t realise how hungry he was until he took his first bite. There must have been something special on the sandwich because it tasted divine.

She arched an eyebrow. “Most times? What about other times?”

Virgil smirked. “It varies. Virgil. Virg, tank, tankhead, bear, Rembrandt, piano man, big bro, but mostly ‘hey, you’ or ‘Oi!’.”

“Family?”

A snort. “Of course.” And ninety-five percent Gordon on the prod before coffee. His little bro continued stretch the boundaries.

Virgil wouldn’t have it any other way, but eh, the occasional revenge prank fixed most things.

“Colourful.” She was still grinning and her sandwich was almost gone.

Virgil needed to pay more attention to his food.

He blinked slowly, but instead of doing exactly that, he took the moment to really look at his fellow rescue operative.

She was as grimy and as covered in soot as he was. That was the result of digging six people out of a burning and partially collapsed building on the outskirts of London.

Both of them and the fire truck were standing in what little shadow Two could cast on this murky cold grey day. He had hoped for rain, but John had shattered that thought early on. The fire was dead only because of the efforts of Blue Squad and Two’s water cannon.

But despite the soot on their clothes and the haze in the air, she was still grinning at him and he couldn’t help but return it.

Her eyes carried her silent laughter.

It had been great to run with the Squad today. They worked well as a team and Cass was a good leader. They put out a fire and saved lives and, in the process, had shared ideas and techniques.

After all International Rescue may have the best equipment out there, but it was his family that made it work. In this case it was Cass’ team, without the tech, that did their job well.

And while it was still a rescue and he had Two with him, along with all her equipment, it had felt good to run with people who were as good in spirit as all the members of his family.

Though, if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t just about the team and professionalism.

It was about Cass.

“You gonna eat that?” Her grin was still there, but her eyebrows were questioning his sanity.

He mentally shook himself and took another bite. Definitely something in the mayonnaise, or perhaps a seasoning. “It’s good.”

She smiled at him and swigged a gulp of soda. “Good.”

As he tore further into his sandwich, she looked away a moment and shouted across the road to one of her team.

He took the opportunity to look at her again - the dark hair curling around her earlobe, a tiny scar on her temple, the dimple that formed in her left cheek each time she smiled.

Yes.

It wasn’t about the team.

It was about Cass.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #cass mccready #romance #possibly #though not much in this #nuttyfic

[thewingedbaron]

BG 3 Fic Feb Day Seven!

Finally caught up!! Day Seven's prompt was a really fun one, so I don't mind the double feature.

Minor warning for self-harm. Just be aware.

This prompt pulls from an in game arguement I had with Lae'zel about half-way through the Underdark on my first playthrough. Enjoy!

(Ao3 Link for the people that prefer it over there :) )

Day Seven: A Heated Argument With A Companion

“Ishtik, you’re leading us in the wrong direction.” 

Alyss glanced up from the shoulder pauldron in her hands. She wished she was surprised by the figure standing over her, sword clutched at one side.

“Lae’zel, now really isn’t a good time.” 

“Why? Does your injury affect your ability to reason?” She asked. “We are going the wrong way. The druid Halsin may think that salvation lies in the Absolute’s tower, but I have told you many times that we must make for the Creche. My people are the only ones who can save us from the worms that writhe inside of our heads.” 

At its mention, the tadpole behind her own eye squirmed, adding to the piercing pain already nestled inside of her head. Alyss sighed, fighting her own tired mind for reason while Lae’zel glared down at her.

“The tower is our best shot, Lae’zel. If we can learn more about these tadpoles, we have a better chance against them. You, yourself, admitted that it was strange that we had not turned yet. Halsin believes that there is other magic involved. We have no idea if the Githyanki can help us at all.” 

“Our opinions do not matter, ishtik! We are to follow protocol, which dictates that we go directly to my people to be cleansed.” 

“Kithrack Voss tried to kill us!” Alyss shot back. “How are we supposed to know that we don’t have a target on our backs now? Your Creche might try to slaughter us the moment we show our faces there.” 

“They will not!” Lae’zel shouted. “They are honor bound to help me. They would not betray my trust.” 

“They already have!” Alyss shouted back. “They tried to kill us simply because they thought you had stepped out of line. How can you trust them after that?” 

“Vlaakith was testing me, and I survived.” The gith warrior hissed. “This is another test, and not one that I intend to fail.” 

“No.” Alyss shook her head. “I will not put everyone here at risk under the implied promise that we will not be attacked. You included.” 

“You are putting them at risk by refusing to take them to safety!” By now their argument could be heard all over camp. Alyss was increasingly aware of the number of eyes on their fight. Her skin itched as she focused her gaze on her friend before her.

“It’s too big a risk for now. Let us put some distance between ourselves and Voss, and we’ll approach your people from the Shadow-Cursed Lands. There will be fewer patrols looking for us if we come from behind.” 

Lae’zel huffed. “First you take the side of the dark haired one and let her keep an artifact of great importance. Now you deny me the safety of the creche?” In one swish, the gith drew the blade from her side, placing its point at Alyss’ throat. “I will not be denied a second time, ishtik. You will point this group toward the creche, or I will challenge you for your leadership, and kill you now.” 

Alyss looked down at the blade, heart hammering in her chest. Then, slowly, she stood, the point following her throat as she stood eye to eye with her companion. 

“You put me in charge because I know my way around the wild places of the world.” She said quietly. “You’ve trusted me up until this point, even when you disagreed with my leadership. Trust me now Lae’zel. We will see your people. But only after we know more about the thing inside of our heads. I promise.” 

“That is not satisfactory.” 

“Then do it.” Alyss replied evenly. She pressed forward just enough to feel a drop of warmth on her skin. “Use the blade and see how far it gets you.” 

Lae’zel’s eyes tracked the dark colored blood as it painted the tip of her blade. Her eyes widened, and suddenly the sharp point withdrew. 

“Chk.” The gith warrior slammed the sword back into its sheath and stormed away, throwing the flap of her tent closed behind her. 

“That was either very brave, or very foolish.” Wyll said softly, stepping up beside her. 

“She’s afraid. Perhaps more so than the rest of us since she knows exactly what we’re risking.” Alyss replied, her gaze softening. “I wish I knew how to help her.” 

“She’ll tell us, in time.” The Blade of Frontiers eased his own sword back into its sheath. Alyss nodded. 

“I hope so.”

#bg3ficfeb #thewingedbaron #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate oc #bg3 spoilers #lae'zel #laezel #writers on tumblr #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fic

[lavendelhummel]

There was so much in these first WoT episodes that my head couldn’t deal with it until I had written down at least my basic thoughts about them. So here is what my brain made me scream into the keyboard before being able to watch on (ep1&2) - for obvious reasons it’s 75% Moiraine, but I mean have you looked at her??

Where is the dark friend social? Because they have the aes Sedai symbol in stone on the ground outside.

Love the phrasing „The one who walks the world, the one who was and will be, but is not yet the dragon“. Because Rand is but is not yet the dragon!

Obviously the „we are in the middle of a meeting, a quite important one, really“ is great and hilarious. Also I said it before and I will say it again I love Ishamaeals nihilism and I think it wasn’t used as good as it could have been in the books, the ending about what good and evil and grey even means couldn’t have played more with him, I hope the show goes there. And his speech is great. But I really thought he would feed that girl to the trollocs for a second.

Also he says „monster“ not trollocs, which strikes me as AoL -speech? Children in the 3rd age know what trollocs are, in his childhood, they wouldn’t have known, they didnt have „monsters“ outside of stories…

Also i noticed for the first time „father of lies“ is an interesting name for the forsaken, who in his own mind is simply saying the truth, „Life is an endless, pointless repetition“. He doesn’t really lie, does he? Here at least he does not towards the girl, while many people probably would have.

Obviously the first Moiraine scene is devastating, what else can be said? I mean except for the fact that she es so beautiful still, that i may have stopped breathing. Her movements are so precise. She has a task and she does it and no matter what’s going on inside here, she is determined to fulfill the selfmade task without delay. 

Also her outfit- the hair-thingies that are of the Lady Moiraine Damodred and look expensive and the physical work clothes she wears, show so nicely the different aspects of her character. 

Light, how many buckets this bath must need. And why does she need this big bath? She does, because she is her and she would never take a smaller one, just to have less work but, Light, Moiraine!

Also what is that necklace that she doesn’t take off during the bath?

It is good to see her focused on herself and not in daes daem‘er mode.

I can‘t with the way she looks at her hands. Those slow movements as she stretches them, holds them. It is more than devastating. You can feel her loss through these movements. So precise still, and such controlled movements! The looking at her hands, because feeling them is not enough, doesn’t work, because they do not feel right, are not working as they should, but they are, they are doing her bodies movement so precisely. And yet not enough. And her eyes. The way she looks at them. So present and absent at the same time. Such horror and resignation at the same time. And then the hand sinks in the water and — and her eyes again, drawing upwards in that last sequence, its so devastating. 

Ahhhhh she is so pretty! Love Moiraine surrounded by books! Ahhh her voice! I mean, her voice in general, but how she sharpens it and how it is her voice and the same but its different from how it was before. Especially towards Lan. And she doesn’t look at him. 

„Everyone has a choice. And every choice as a consequence.“!!! That is such in important sentence for life in general. I want to print it on a tshirt (and give it to my sister). Also Moiraine is so pretty. Also „Door.“ The hurt. Uh, she is hurting so bad and hurting him so bad because she doesn’t know what else to do. 

Egewene in the Amyrlin‘s study 👀. Interesting. But where is siuan? Love the White tower optics. 

Omg Alanna. she is even more than she is in fanfics and that says something. 

It’s so great that they adapted the „novices watching the wardens train“ from New Spring. Just because of the sillyness and New spring-ness. And also shows that Egwene is not that much in with the other novices. 

Obviously the Nyn/Egwene convo is great, Dont smile, I have enough character, etc. It’s Them!! And they introduce more aes Sedai lore. „Even the amyrlin“ haha, they dont know Siuan Sanche at all do they? 

Love serious Alanna. Good to see she’s more than sex and snacks again. Why isn’t Egwene using her hands? As a challenge to herself? because of her her cultural exchange later? Did she hurt them? 

Who is that bald grey sister? She is intriguing me. 

„Who’s ever been hurt by a little talk (BY AN AES SEDAI!!!)? Hmmmmm.

OMG How is Moiraine this pretty? Poem in blood! In old tongue! Omg Moiraine‘s hands. Her nod ahhhh. Her smugness, ahhh I love her. 

THE WHEEL WEAVES AS THE WHEEL WILLS!!!!! +  LIGHT BE WITH YOU

I really like show Nyneave more than book Nyneave! She is as headstrong but at the same time more reflective and less caricature. 

I do get the disappointment that its not Siuan who throws Nyn at the wall but I think its so interesting that it‘s Liandrin! Does she do it with the same intention? This Liandrin is so much more than a dark sister! She might be evil and she is unlikable but she cares. I think? Because we dont really know if it‘s an act so we? But it feels as if she really cares about other aes Sedai, including Nyneave as she is a woman who can channel. And that fits but is also messy and interesting. And the thing about wanting Nyneave to reach that power, that no one, not even her can take from her is great. And the thing about not everyone accessing Saidar the same way, that anger can be a way and that the teachings of the White Tower are not always the only way. 

The talk Perrin has with Ingtar is great too, because it gives actual substance to the whole violence thing. Anger is scary! Anger can make you use violence, that makes so much more sense than the „i am a big guy“ thing from the books. Also good that they mentioned Laila again. And it takes away the whol Nyneave = anger personified away. Other characters obviously deal with this too! I really like this non-caricature version of her better. 

Moiraine!!! + Lan!! Also the little eyebrow movement she does when he walks out. saying „its fine. It’s not fine but i deserve this. I am too stubborn to cry. I am distancing myself from him and from myself and i will not even think about it. I will work now.“ Her little eyebrow movement that says „I hurt but i wont show it“. 

I love that it‘s Bel Tine again. I love their lanterns and lights and it all. Also interesting that Egwene remembered and Nyn didn‘t. Because as much as Nyneave is about community and protecting her wards, so is Egwene, Egwene is about glueing together old traditions and new ways of life, here as she is building a Two River lantern in the White Tower, and later when she is wielding a trident. 

Question: is that Aldieb? Also Dagger Moiraine!! Is she for real fighting two *fades* alone with nothing but a knife? And getting him by staying calm and observant. 

When she says „Lan.“ And you can har that she has not said it in months. It is her voice, the voice that has interviewed Boyle Damon and the other 19 people but this is *her* voice saying „Lan.“ Adressing *him*. Getting his attention. And this voice is hoarse (ok maybe also because she cant really use her breathing muscles with her sliced abdomen, but) because she hasn’t talked to him in months, not really, not to *him*, and now she is saying his name. 

This is the most brutal thing ever. It’s simply brutal. Her face. The power, she feels it and then it isn’t hers and i mean good that they live but this is the most brutal thing ever. What aren’t you telling me? Everything. That it’s impossible but it mustn’t be impossible. This is brutal. 

2)

Rand having acoustic hallucinations while working in the mental health asylum has very strong me-during-my-psychiatry-rotation-vibes (the difference being he went and got a job there and me deciding not to stay, no, nope lets stay with my lovely lymphomas)

But it fits his character very well! He is good at that!! And I also love how we are getting introduced to the sword forms this way! It’s a good way do put them in words. 

That asshole reminded me of the girl internet anxiety disorder lecture mocking how you could be afraid of these things, with people with this disorder sitting there and having to listen. People suck.

I miss the intro!

Ok Moiraine in this outfit is killing me. How am i supposed to follow any dialogue when she is sitting there looking like that? But Light! Not only Lan (her responsibility! But she couldn’t! She couldn’t protect him, heal him, she could do nothing!) but also herself must have been healed with the One Power, and yes she has had that done before and wouldn’t have been able to heal herself either way, the situation is so different. That must have been such an awful situation. Feeling the power, knowing it touches you, but you cant touch it. Not only having someone use it in your presence but *on* you. Oh Moiraine. Oh Moiraine. 

She has been exiled from the White Tower!!!!!!! And Verin knows!! I cant continue  watching this show. The difference between her „I“ now and her „we“ in season 1 and Lan’s continued „we“! And how she doesn’t manage to block the tenderness out of her voice, when she says „you are still weak from the healing“, and then noticed her slip up and voice slightly changed but not too much for it to be obvious adds that little quip to drive him away. Oh Moiraine. 

I don‘t really like what they are doing with Perrin‘s senses, why is it visions suddenly? Not only to portray on screen but also him thinking it is happening now, and Elayas calling it visions? I like him and Hurin merged though, it makes sense. 

Liandrin bringing Nyneave to the Yellows!! She gets her, and she knows what it takes and she really wants Nyn to break the block! And Nyn‘s awe!!! She found the thing Ivon and Maskim asked about last episode! It’s great to see this this early on, and not just later as in the books where her blind rage over Moiraine takes up most her motivation so long. But, Liandrin saying healing is a response to symptoms and disease… hmm. I mean sure it can be, and honestly its super important because easing symptoms is important?! But you can also treat causally as they did right there, that was not a symptomatic treatment on the girl. Plus prevention is a thing. Sorry Liandrin, I do see why the yellows wouldn’t have wanted you. The way she says „I am allowed to teach Accepted“ hahaha Liandrin trying so hard being cool. 

Some of the greatest pairings in the history of the world were formed between novices in adjacent rooms!!! Yay for the pillowfriends?!?!! Who is Elana Katab though, do we know her?? But really this is so cute, her wanting to be close to Egwene immediately and proposing it like this and talking about a shared future (seconds after meeting *cough* seconds after introducing herself as daughter heir *cough cough*) 

Ouhhhh the foreshadowing in the convo between Alanna and Sheriam!! Ouhhhlaa this show is too much for me. 

Omg Verin talking about oath loopholes!?!?!?!?!

P.S. Why is Moiraine so pretty?

The pond!!!! The pond story and they tell them!! And they are smiling. 

So much foreshadowing!! Mat!!

She didn‘t! Did she really say „When i am with you, I can pretend i am with him,“?? Ouhh she‘s bad. „Pretend I am whole again,“ you mean pretend you never bored that freaking hole in the dimension or what?! Also yeppp she is hot. Shit.

„I knew when the time came, you‘d be able to survive on your own.“ Thats what she wasn’t telling you, Lan. For 20 years and she never planned to survive this with you. She knew you‘d survive on your own. (But doesn’t this contradict the Myrelle plot?)

*Her loyalty is with the dragon reborn.* Thats Moiraine. Always and *always* will the dragon, will the world, will fate itself come before anything. 

And then she says his name „al‘Lan Mandargoran“ and rides away. Oh my heart. Oh Light.

Fuck, the suldam and Damane are creepy. I mean, they should be and they are creepy-creepy-creepy in the books too, so… but unexpectedly seeing them on screen? Yeah mission accomplished they are creepy. 

Also creepy: Rand’s little smile at the end. I guess things are going to happen.

#this is very spamy #but I had to get it out of the system and now thought why not put it here #now I might be able to watch episode 4 #(well saturday because sleep and work and did I mention that I never have time and life sucks a little at the moment?) #seriously I am in no condition to watch WoT #these episodes overwhelmed me so much that I had to take breaks every 20 min #and didnt manage more than one per day even though I had a free weekend #anyway I love moiraine and her reaction seemed very logical and on point. it was good and I get it #wheel of time #moiraine damodred #egwene al'vere #wot s2 spoilers #I don't think this is #wot book spoilers #but anyway. and good night

[milkywaybottles]

The Way Things Were | Tommy Shelby x Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi! I will not be using the term starting with G (you know what it is) to describe Romani people unless it is a character speaking that had already spoken prior in the show (I do not agree with that language), because many Romani people find the term offensive and I do not want (Y/N) to speak like that. It is simply not my place xx

Chapter 7: Eventful Days

"This is an awful idea" you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest. Worry was bubbling inside you. Ada only smiled, pushing a strand of her hair back behind her air. Your body bounced up and down rhythmically in the seat of the car, the road becoming heavier and bumpier as you neared the Lee camp.

"Don't worry. You were given the choice to come and you did, that must mean something. Besides, Tommy, Arthur and John wouldn't let anything happen again" Ada assured. She slipped her hand to her waist. She was getting big, the little baby gaining on their due date. After Ada declared she was going to make you a godmother, you had become just that little more excited about the baby.

There was a minute of silence between you.

"John isn't going to like this". She shook her head in agreement as the car slowed to a stop. You stepped out and as soon as your heel hit the gravel, you were overwhelmed with the scent of horse manure. Turning your head to Ada, you observed her face become paler than normal, resisting the urge to burst out in laughter. For a girl who grew up around horses, she definitely couldn't handle the smell. If you had been a few years younger, you definitely would've teased her about it, but deciding it wasn't worth the fight, you left it alone.

Arthur emerged from behind a colourful vardo, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. "Ladies, Johnny boy is onboard. This way, please". His awfully chirpy behaviour caught you as a surprise, as he had previously contracted the self-named 'Flander's Blues' a week prior. He was practically shimming in excitement when taking you both to the alter, and you determined that there was definitely alcohol making its way through his system.

You had always been captivated by Romani culture. Considering the Shelby family was half Romani, it had fascinated you to hear them speak in Romani to each other. Polly even claimed she could predict a baby's sex and future because of it. And because you were in close proximity with the language, you had also managed to pick up a select few words, just not enough to hold a conversation. That is why you stuck to Arthur's side like glue, warily keeping your head focused in front of you.

"There are the other ladies of the evening, now we just have to wait for the lady of the evening" Tommy called out, expecting both of you to take your place beside him. Many of the Peaky Blinders were surrounding John like a support group, scruffing up his hair and teasing him. There was a crowd of people waiting apprehensively, some muttering little phrases under their breath, others taking silver flasks from their pockets and drinking their troubles away. The alter was adorned with two white cushions on the ground and an archway of flowers, one of the Lee brothers officiating.

When your eyes landed on the woman dressed in a long, cotton veil and a draping white dress, you weren't surprised to see her accompanied by Zilpha Lee. Much like Polly was the matriarch of the Shelby family, Zilpha Lee was the matriarch of the Lee family, making all the business decisions with Tommy. You had both met before when you were young, not thinking anything of the interaction. The dark-haired lady was grinning from ear to ear.

"She'd better be under 50" you heart John murmur, causing you to frown and nudge him suddenly.

Tommy turned to his brother, "Come 'ere" and he snatched the toothpick from John's mouth. Good riddance, you thought. Wouldn't want to have that between his lips when speaking to his bride for the first time. "Go on". He received a handful of supportive pats on the back, acting as the only thing really getting him up that aisle. Otherwise, the boy would've been sent running with his tail between his legs. Not knowing his bride, her personality or how she looked was a scary notion and you couldn't blame him. If marriage had been forced on you...

John knelt on the cushion beside his bride, squeaking from his weight. A dog bark echoed throughout the camp, otherwise, all was silent. "We're here today to join in matrimony, this man and this woman" Johnny Doggs began. Given the opportunity, Tommy struck up a stiff and casual conversation with his huffing sister, still on bad terms. Your eyes remained solely on John's back, observing as he turned around with the biggest smirk you had ever seen once his bride's veil had been removed. "Do you, John Michael Shelby, take Esme Martha Lee to be your beautiful wife?". The chatter between Thomas and Ada was too loud for you to hear the rest of the ceremony properly. "There remains one more part of the ceremony, the mingling of the two bloods. When the two families become the one family"

There was a knife slipped between the palms of the couple and their hands were intertwined. Esme's face was indulgent in a large, polite smile, her face dusted with freckles and her eyes the most beautiful shade of brown. "I now pronounce you man and wife!". Everyone rose, clapping feverishly. "Come on, John, kiss the bride, will you?"

-

The festivities carried well on into the night, lit with embers from a giant bonfire. There was cheery singing and dancing as well as more than a fair share of drinking. You smiled apprehensively at any Lees that looked your way but hadn't removed yourself from Tommy's side. Your face was caught in the light of sparkling fireworks, setting a beautiful glow on your features. Tommy hadn't taken his eyes off you the whole night.

He couldn't. Not when your serpent green dress hugged your figure, your makeup was just right and you stood timidly but loyally at his side. Goddamn... he even had the nerve to ask you to dance, which you had accepted after some convincing. The way you fit perfectly into his arms, melting into his body drove him crazy. When you span, the world seemed to fade away. In fact, when any other person, especially a Lee, even glanced your way, he felt his hand inching to his cap.

When a clearly intoxicated Arthur asked you to dance, he had almost lept from his seat in protest. You shook him off, going for a spin with Arthur before he insisted on stopping, disappearing behind a vardo. The splashing noise was enough to know that he had been sick, and you politely told him no for the rest of the evening. You weren't sure if you could handle the smell if you hadn't said no.

Finally, you had settled in a chair beside Tommy, happily watching the fire with a glass of whiskey sitting on the table. John was jeering merrily from his seat, holding Esme close to his waist. The couple appeared content. That was good enough for you. Even Ada, the heavily pregnant woman, appeared to be having a wonderful time. Between her chides, she would dance until she felt sick. One of the Lee members had taken fondly to her, causing you to wonder how Freddie would have felt about it had they not been on bad terms.

Nevertheless, it wasn't your business, so you took a cigarette to your lips.

Tommy decided that from that moment on, he couldn’t risk getting closer to you than he already had. Grace was the easiest escape, a distraction from what he truly wanted. He would pursue her, imagining that it was you moaning out his name instead of her. It would break your heart if you found out, but it would break your heart more if he loved you. He was consumed by desperation for you.

As you observed Ada, a watchful pair of eyes fell on you. “Should we say something to her, Tom?” you posed. “Tell her to slow down?”

“You think she’ll listen to me?” he scoffed. You reeled in your conversation, folding your arms on top of each other. You had become worried knowing that Ada had been drinking, hearing her practically beg to be spun again while dancing.

“I think you’re her brother. She has to listen. Please…”. You winced at the sight of the loose firecracker. Tommy stopped, putting his cigarette down and standing quickly. A smile made its way to your lips, although fading as soon as Tommy approached the dismissive Ada.

“All right, Ada, come on, have a rest, sit down” he beckoned. It was like something snapped in Ada, prompting you to join Tommy’s side. When she turned to face him, she stumbled, almost slipping in the mud. She swayed from side to side.

“Come and look, Esme! Come and look at the family you’ve joined. Come, look at the man who runs it! He chooses his brothers' wives! He hunts his own sister down like a rat and tries to kill his brother-in-law". It all came bubbling out of her, both Tommy and Arthur scolding her to quiet down. You could see the visible shock on Esme's face. "Now he won't even let me have a fucking dance! Not even at a fucking wedding!". Your jaw was on the floor, trying to put your hands on her shoulders to calm her, only for her to shake them off.

John's face had become as red as a tomato, practically spitting at his sister, "Sit her down".

"Ada, calm down. Calm down" Polly consoled, her face dropping as her eyes became downcast on the floor. Her eyes snapped to you, making intense eye contact, "Holy shit, water. Alright". Your heart skipped a beat, placing an arm on her to guide her away from the party. Ada became a panting mess as she was swarmed by countless relatives.

This was something you had been preparing to do since Ada became pregnant, Polly warning you that you may have to help deliver the baby. It was an anxiety-ridden task but not something you weren't educated on either. Your mother had been a midwife, so you knew the ins and outs.

"Jesus Christ Ada, you do pick your bloody times!". She urged them to get off of her, to give her some space.

-

Tommy had taken the wheel, you and Polly assisting Ada in the back of the vehicle. The whole ride was sweat-filled, the girl riding out the contractions while clinging to your arm mercilessly. All you could do was press down her hair, soothing her as she cried. You were sure she regret getting pregnant in the first place at that moment. It had even promoted you to reconsider what you wanted for your future as well.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you, Ada”

It was a train of cars that escorted you all back to Ada's house. Tommy, of course, drove in front, John driving at the back of the train. As soon as the car slowed to a stop, you and Polly leapt from the car, keeping the door open so Ada could crawl out. You took her chillingly cold hand and escorted her inside the building, eyes engulfed with bright floral wallpapers. The light pattering of Esme's feet could be heard as she entered the room, placing her hand on Ada's back as you both lowered her onto her bed.

She had dissolved into a whimpering mess.

"Ada!" Polly shouted in an elated manner from the entrance of the home, "The truce is on hold". As soon as she came rushing in, you could sense a tight-lipped smile on Ada, though hard to distinguish from her looks of grimaces. She was stripped of most of her clothing, layers upon layers of fancy and fluffy garments falling to the floor. Sweat was trickling down her forehead at an alarming rate as she screamed again, legs bare in front of her aunt.

"Keep going. That's right. Push!". Her groans were ungodly, shaking the whole house with her might. Esme put her hands to Ada's stomach to feel the baby, only to glance back up at you both with alarm.

"I think it might be the wrong way around. I attended three sisters". Your attention snapped to Ada and then her bump. Both you and Polly reached to feel the baby to which you could distinctly feel under her flesh that the legs were first. You and Polly hastily nodded in agreement,

"Yeah, I think you're right"

"We must lean her forward" you instructed, all of you taking her to pull her to her knees. Polly stroked up her back, attempting to bring any relief she could to her niece,

"Come on, not long to go now, darling. Push. Two. Three!"

The fresh sound of a newborn's cries filled the room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#the peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #female reader #she/her #cillian murphy

[fourtyfourcatss]

-> for @pinejayy !

[a/n] - i enjoyed doing this matchup exchange! i wrote a lot for kny compared to the others since i did it first, but just know every single one of your matches love your traits so i didnt have to restate them again and again! hope you enjoy

KNY ✦ mitsuri kanroji

➜ mitsuri thinks you’re so cool! you look so gallant in your heels and your countenance… you often speak your truth and put people in their place! she cant stop giggling over their gawking expressions and being endeared over your confidence. it takes a while for her to understand and accept your dark humor, since she isnt used to it, but one day she will accidentally slip up and make a somewhat dark joke too and obanai is onto you 💀

➜ but i think the two of you would soften each other much, defenses, and traits. sometimes dark humor can lead go humor that may be a bit too dark, and thinking about it could make you spiral a tad if you arent in a good place. mitsuri’s attitude beats that away! she’ll slice up anything bad that comes your way.

➜ i think she’s developed from fixation on your chokers after a while, wanting to wear some herself to keep some part of you with her. do you wear perfume or cologne? spray some on the choker before letting her wear it for a while; she’ll drift into a happy daze! though unfortunately, she cant really fight like that oh no 🙁‼️ after shes learnt her lesson (several times), its reserved for days off with you! expect tons of short neck pecks and cheek kisses.

➜ do you like sakura watching? i assume you’re not a big outdoorsy type person since you have not mentioned it, so the two of you definitely snuggle inside a kotatsu during the winter, the two of you chatting and laughing under the warm blanket. its midafternoon but its ok, and time feels lost. in march, sakura watching is a must though! the two of you sit on the patio, sharing snacks while night falls, watching the blossoms fall down beautifully.

➜ originally, mitsuri planned to go into the corps to find a husband… but she found a wife instead! ah, but her parents are delighted! someone who could accept their daughter for who they truly are unlike those earlier suitors must be someone of great character, and right they are! her siblings are curious little kids, and sometimes they intrude a bit while she and her parents try to pull them away as quick as they can! but theyre good kids, the ones that usher you in and sneak you snacks and asks you for the reasons of why you got each of your tattoos. you grow on them, and they grow onto you <3

➜ she has no tattoos herself, but she understands the feeling of being judged from your appearance, being downtrodden because of it. the two of you are on the other sides of the spectrum, yet its depressing how the the people’s treatment of the two of you as women converge and diverge. she looks too “childish” with her hair and kimonos and yukatas, and you look too “brazenly” in your goth clothes. but everyone is more than their fashion tastes and their outward appearances; mitsuri thinks the tattoos on your body are so beautiful, so artfully done — did it hard? does it still hurt? she has no idea how tattoos and healings work, does it still ache like a wound? no, right? there’s a part of her that’s subconsciously worrying about you, not obsessively or suffocatingly. but she wants to fuss over you! she wants to indulge you in all the ways she can, like how her parents indulged her when she was younger, lovingly, heart above the mind. she traces each line carefully and watches as they line down your body, transfixed.

➜ absolutely cannot take a horror movie. she will definitely watch them with you, but even so, she’ll be clutching at you and closing her eyes and trying not to be so easily jolted. prepare to accompany her to the bathroom at night and waiting for her lol.

➜ cute plushies? sweets? strawberry related? do you think about her hair while thinking about strawberries? just thinking about that makes her gleeful. she loves loves sweets, and she also loves plushies. i can imagine the two of you strolling hand in hand at festivals, masks clipped to the sides of your heads, mitsuri dominating the competition to get you your trophies!!

➜ your relationship is like sitting near a riverbed, the sky dark, the crickets chirping, fireworks lightening the sky.

..runner up; shinobu kocho, uzui tengen <- i think he would make more for platonic friends instead

JJK ✦ geto suguru

➜ gojo teases him a lot about you. “gonna trip into your girlfriend’s arms again?”

➜ geto throws up a finger, but doesnt say much else, his only other acknowledgment being reddened ears poking from strands of dark hair.

➜ geto is an absolute gentleman — as much as he can while being encaptured by your energy. he’s very frank about his feelings, yet retreats whenever you approach back, tapping his cheek or giving him some lip. eventually, he will stop going back into his shell like a turtle! for a special grade sorcerer, he has what you’d call the heart of a maiden around you lol!

➜ there will definitely be times where he leaves a curse or two to protect you. he cannot take any chances when it comes to his enemies, especially when the person who could be harmed is you.

➜ playing video games with you and reading your works is a must! he’s probably seen scarier for horror movies with grotesque beings, so put on something thats more silent to scare him lol. acts of services and bantering is a large part of your relationship with one another. he kisses your hands and strokes your arms. geto deeply appreciates your values and how you see the world, and you see like the type to stick to something when you truly believe it in. like a beacon of light. that does good for him. if geto is gojo’s moral compass, then you are getos.

➜ he unconsciously seeks you out; whether it be you walking to his room, geto freeing his hands so he can wrap an arm around the curve of your back. burying his face into your hair and nestling into your neck. like sitting on a ferris wheel at sunset, the voices of the crowd tumbling snuffled beneath the two of you.

➜ with your presence, he may have given his choice some more consideration, and understood the ridiculousness of killing every non-jujutsu sorcerer in the world. it was his dream, but it was a given one. but he thinks of your painted nails and the ways your eyes glisten, and hesitates.

BNHA ✦ keigo takami

➜ the attraction point is that the two of you are so similar in different ways, it catches his attention immensely. hawks likes to take a jab at people, but it is in the unorthodox sense, while you as you put it, “quite rude but a playful kinda rude.” in short, the intentions between the two of you are quite dissimilar, making for rather unorthodox interactions. but he’s met many people who’s also similar in you for many of these traits. so, what draws him to you?

➜ its simple. everything.

➜ everything mashes together to create this interlocking puzzle which even one piece cannot be missing for it to work. there are things big and small that makes his eyes stray to your figure; the way your back is curved, the air about you. he gives you that Leon Kennedy StareTM, like the way he looks at Ada.

➜ as from this post, he’s casual, reliable, and falsely open. i think you have the temperament to truly open him up without leaving him resentful of you. he says exactly whats on his mind, in turn, beckoning for you to share your opinion too. he wants to know how you feel about certain things, perhaps dissolving the conversation into something entirely political or philosophical. he does this thing where he gets into your head sometimes, and it’s infuriating. but, as he starts to become more comfortable with vulnerability around you, he starts to soften up. sheepishly rubbing his neck if he accidentally goes too far and catches himself doing it

➜ definitely walks with you across the sky howl’s moving castle style. well, as close as it gets. he’s going to randomly send the two of you up in the sky and go for a ride. preferably in his hometown, where the eyes do not follow as much. he’s absolutely masterful at every time of affection, physical, verbal, and especially gift giving. he’s a genius, the youngest of the top heroes at only 22. won’t you brag about him to your friends? he’ll be very flattered

➜ Next Level Bantering. He puts everyone to shame with his comebacks and returns. dark humor? not a problem with him. ah, but if hes too worked up, he might take it too far. he’s a very contrary character, appreciative of things both traditional and “unorthodox” like heavy metals like the older generation (some of those uptight old fucks need to mind their own business). the more they seem to dislike you, the more he ends up seeing and appreciating you for who you are.

[wordsvoyage]

II. Reunited In Rivendell

3018

It was 3018 in the Third Age when your mother Galadriel received concerning news. This news came from lord Elrond of Rivendell. They found the One Ring, carried by a young hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins, the young nephew of Bilbo Baggings who you encountered some decades ago. He was sending out messengers far and wide to gather a council to decide how the ring should be destroyed and who would do it. When the messenger came to Lothlorien, your mother and father decided to send you to Rivendell as their representative. As the future queen, this concerned you, too.

A day later, you had gathered the things needed for the journey, and together with three more people, you left. You were traveling for a few days, luckily no issues on the road. Then, you finally reached the passage for Rivendell. As you were crossing it, you felt a sense of relief. You were there, at last, and everything went smoothly. However, you had an unusual feeling deep inside you. As if you were nervous or maybe even scared.

You crossed the passage, and you were already on Rivendell's territory. As you reached the bridge to the gorgeous castle of Rivendell, you saw two dark-haired elves coming towards you - lord Elrond and his right-hand Lindir. You stopped your horse and got off. You smiled at Lord Elrond and bowed to him. He smiled and opened his arms to hug you. 

- Arise, mae govannen! I'm glad to see you even if it's for such concerning events.

- Lord Elrond, I am glad to be back here and that I'm seeing you. Lindir - you turned to the other elf, smiled and since you knew each other from kids, you even hugged him. He was surprised but he hugged you and welcomed you back. 

- Come, my lady, you must be tired. The rest of the party is not here yet, so let us show you to your chambers so you have some rest.

You walked the familiar halls with them, you could see how troubled and concerned Elrond was. The castle of Rivendell, with its halls full of books and rooms from which music sounded, gave you some sort of comfort and warm feelings. Even though you still had this unknown and unusual feeling in you, you tried to ignore it. You reached the chambers and Elrond and Lindir left you to rest. You entered the room with a big, gorgeous balcony, overseeing the beautiful waterfalls and forests, and the entrance to the castle. You stayed there, in the quiet, to think. You knew the fact the ring was found meant your mother's time was almost over. Which meant you had to take your responsibilities seriously now. You knew this was going to be a huge and really important challenge for you, and had to find the strength within yourself. 

You tried to get some rest but you could not get any sleep, you were restless and did not know why. So you did the only thing you've always loved to do when you were at Rivendell - you went out on your balcony. It was early in the morning and the world was waking up around you. Dressed in a light silver gown, with your blonde hair falling on your sholders and back, you could feel the crisp autumn air. You loved this season and the changing leaves, the crisp air and the sense of change.

As you were standing there, you heard horses. You saw three men with beards and long hair coming in. The rest of the council party had finally started to arrive. They were welcomed by the elves and taken inside the castle. This happened with the dwarves that came after as well. And then, you saw him entering - Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood. He got off his horse and greeted the other elves. He looked different but was still as handsome if not even more. You felt it in your heart, the love and the warm feelings just flourishing inside you once more. But they were mixed together with the pain of your broken heart. Yes, after so many years, your heart was still not healed. And then your eyes met. He was still smiling lightly, but he was surprised to see you. You broke eye contact as you looked away and headed back inside your room where you sat on the bed, and even if you didn't want to, you cried.

*******

On the other morning, you woke up and started dressing for the council. You thought how stupid of you was to cry over him. You are a princess, you are strong, and even though it hurts you, this was no way you should be behaving. You stopped yourself from thinking about this and looked yourself in the mirror - you were dressed in a gorgeous long-sleeved light blue gown and you had a beautiful silver crown with blue gems, your hair falling freely. A knock brought you out of your thoughts. It was Lindir who came to escort you to the meeting. You exited your room with him walking closely behind you. Lindir took you to the meeting where everyone was already seated. Elrond presented you. You sat next to him and one of his sons. You immediately felt the eyes of Legolas on you but as soon as you looked at him, he looked away. 

The meeting began. You sat there as everyone was discussing what to do with the ring. The ring had to be destroyed, and everyone knew it. But Boromir, son of Denethor, from Godnor, wanted to get the ring and use it to win. Little did he know that this was never going to happen. At the end of the meeting, it was finally decided that the ring had to be destroyed in the fires of Mordor. Frodo decided to take on this task, surprising everyone. Then Gandalf spoke, pledging to help the hobbit:

- Oh, dear Frodo. I will help you bear this burden as long as it is yours to bear. 

Then, more people followed the example of Gandalf.

- You have my sword - said Aragorn. He kneeled in front of Frodo and smiled to him.

Then Legolas stood up and went to Frodo:

- And you have my bow - said he, and looked at you.

- And my axe - said Gimli, son of Gloin.

Boromir was the last to join, pledging himself to Frodo. He was to protect him from any harm on this journey. This is how the faith of the ring and of every race was decided. Later on, the other hobbits decided to join Frodo on his journey. This is how the Fellowship of the Ring was formed. Nine people to destroy the ring who had the power to destroy all of Middle Earth. Lord Elrond looked at the fellowship and then at you. You stood up and said: 

- This Fellowship holds the faith of all free folk in Middle Earth. It has to hold. Remember, you are connected to each other now, so forget your differences and always think of what binds you - you were talking much like your mother, and looking at each member of the Fellowship. - As you embark on this journey, you can be sure that you will have the protection of Valinor and the elves. But keep in mind that even with it, the road ahead is treacherous and long, and the enemy will do anything in its power to destroy you. But you have to stay together and strong. This is the only way we can defeat him. 

The meeting ended, and it was decided that the Fellowship would leave the next morning. Everyone went to their rooms to prepare. You went back to yours. Now that you were alone, you realized how scared you were that Legolas was going on this mission. When you heard him pledging himself, your heart sank. At first, you did not want to feel this way, but it was inevitable, you were scared for the love of your life. This was also the first time in decades you admitted to yourself that he was the one. Your mother prepared you for this. She knew that you and him were soulmates and were destined to be together, she told you that even if you did not want to feel this way, you had no choice. It was faith that binded you two, and you could not escape it.   Once you were in your room, you sat on a beautiful wooden bench. You were drowned in your thoughts about the future when you heard a knock on the wooden frame and then a familiar voice calling your name. You had not closed the door to your room, and as you turned around, you saw the prince standing in the frame. His eyes were dark with worry and sadness. Regardless he gave you a smile. You took a deep breath and invited him in. 

- Prince Legolas, what brings you to my quarters? 

- Arise...I felt the need to come and see you before we left - said he as he slowly walked toward you. - You look beautiful, my lady.

Something inside you trembled, and tho, you tried not to, you felt your cheeks going a bit red, you had trouble breathing. The last time he said you were beautiful was the day you got to Mirkwood so many years prior. 

- Thank you. I am glad you came to say goodbye...

- Arise, I wanted to say how terribly sorry I am for everything I did. I wasn't thinking straight, I was blinded by feelings I thought were real - he began. - But I realized quickly they were not. The worst thing is that I betrayed you, running away from my responsibilities and duties as a prince. But now, after all that happened and the last events, I've seen my mistake. And shall I return from this journey, I will do what is asked of me. 

As he was speaking, you felt as if he thought of you only as a responsibility, as a duty, something he must do, and not something he truly wants. Which in your mind meant he didn't love you or at least not the way you wanted to be loved. You couldn't help it, you felt your heart break and a lonely tear rolling down your cheek. You had not felt when he got so close to you but as he saw the tear he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. 

- What is wrong, my lady? - he looked at you and erased the tear from your cheek.

- Am I really only a responsibility for you? One of many you have? Am I really just something you are obligated to do? - it was really hard for you to speak, you felt as if you were going to cry any moment now. You had no power to pull yourself together even if you knew you had to. More tears started rolling from your eyes down your face as you were trying to get away from him. - After all this time you did not realize the truth...you did not...you have no idea how I feel. I am only a responsibility, a burden for you.

- Arise, no. You're much more than that...- but you didn't hear him. You could not contain your tears now. You broke out of his grip and headed towards the balcony. Your heart was heavy but you still found the strength to pull yourself together, wipe your tears and face him. You spoke out:

- I'm glad you came to say goodbye, Your Highness. I wish you luck on your journey, and may the power of the elves protect you - you said. He was surprised and hurt, but he bowed and exited your room. You turned towards the balcony and started crying again as he was preparing to leave.

*******

The next morning you and the other elves from Rivendell gathered in the garden to send off the Fellowship. Arwen was standing next to you, she was holding your hand while looking at Aragorn. You could feel how fearful she was and you wanted to show her support. You looked at Legolas for the last time, smiled at him, and said a protection spell. And then the Fellowship left for Mordor.

This is how you said goodbye to him, not knowing if you would see him alive again. Your heart was so heavy with sadness and anger, mainly towards yourself, that for the rest of your stay in Rivendell, you could not sleep. As you returned to Lothlorien, however, you decided to get a grasp on yourself and continued with your duties there. 

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