#I had talent I would paint those pictures

[acrazybayernfan]

[raininyourblackeyes]

omg i have an ask that says "what's your favourite ancient civilization?" that i'm so anxious to answer actually because i don't think i'm qualified to have one...? like i did want to study archaeology but my plan was to catch up to fun stuff and detailed facts in uni once i was away from my family because that was an easier way to live since my dad only valued mathematics and physics as something i should've been spending my time on. so like to avoid being called stupid and useless and disappointment to him more than was necessary, my knowledge of history in general was restricted to basic stuff we learned in school and when i started uni i deleted most of that stuff from my memory because well turns out i won't need that and it's easier not to think of an alternate universe where the pandemic didn't happen and i got out, instead of remaining stuck with my family studying pharmacy... and even from the school stuff, we only focuesed on mesopotamia, persia, ancient egypt and then everything else was europe. so my knowledge of ancient civilizations beyong that is that they existed. i was planning to learn about as much suff as possible during that summer before starting university but that obviously didn't happen and now i feel so underqualified to actually answer that harmless little ask. like answering ancient egypt or ancient greece or ancient rome because i remember the most about them from school because we did study those the most sounds boring but i also literally would need to google english spelling and exact names for anything more fun that i remember. like my knowledge is that little. i shouldn't be getting this worked up over an ask lmao but i don't want to have this rant be an answer to it so i have to get it out before i eventually gather what little i remember and try to figure out an answer

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Alucard (Castlevania) finding his beloved's art room, that is filled with various forms of art of him? Paintings, sculptures, poems, etc.

He doesn’t want to use the term ‘stalking in the night’ because he feels like it’s a trope for half of his blood line and Alucard doesn’t like stereotypes. But that was what he was doing.

It wasn’t for anything nefarious though. Night after night, his beloved would sneak off into some dark, deserted portion of the castle alone. With just the two of them there were a lot of spaces like this in his father’s old home. It also wasn’t as if they needed to spend all of their time together. Alucard appreciated that people needed & desired space. He himself needed it from time to time. It was just the pattern that had left him curious.

With his natural born stealth and tactical advantage of growing up in the castle, Alucard followed just behind them as they walked through the dark corridors and through one large, old, heavy door near the end. Almost forgotten by everyone. The dhampir arched a manicured brow and gave them a moment, and when they didn’t come out Alucard pressed on. Opening the door with much more ease and finding the room filled with a surprising amount of light despite it’s clutter. “What are you doing in here?”

He heard his lover shriek once in surprise, and something like sticks fall on the ground before it was followed by a larger commotion. “Damnit!” They cursed before they picked up what fell as Alucard came closer. A canvas and paint brushes now right side up off the floor. “What are you doing here?!”

“I asked you first.” Alucard told them as he looked around. “What is all this?”

He knew the castle very well. Although there were secrets his father kept from him, a vaults worth of art was not among them. Before he changed Dracula was actually a great patron of the arts. Finding beauty in almost all artistic expressions. So this was a new addition to his childhood home.

“It’s just…a hobby.” They confessed. “I find it soothing.”

“Art can have that effect on people.” He agreed as he looked at one of the pieces. Like his father, he liked art, but had no knack for it. Only the art for the sword had been his gift. “I meant more what is all this doing here? Why hide all this?”

“I don’t know.” They told him honestly. “I guess I just thought they weren’t very good.”

‘Not very good?’ Alucard arched his brow again as he looked at the works around the room. They were all wonderful. Even the unfinished pieces. “I never made any money selling them. And no one ever seemed interested in my art. So I just keep them here. I don’t have the heart to throw them away.”

“People are philistines. And you shouldn’t throw them away.”

Alucard picked up one of the landscapes and looked at it. He remembered this place. From one of their travels. “Can we put this in the dinning room?”

They seemed surprised by his ask. “You want to?”

“I liked this lake. Those trees. I’d like to remember it while we have meals. Think on that picnic.”

He went through the other pieces and asked if he could put up more. They weren’t his to decide what to do with, but he wanted them to encourage them to put it out. “Are you planning on turning the castle into my debut gallery?” They finally ask.

“If you’d let me.” Alucard replied after he’d collected over a dozen paintings, sculptures, and displays to bring out into the light. “Or at least a private gallery.”

They blushed but let him continue to go through the pieces. When he was done, Alucard came over and gave them a soft kiss. “You should never feel that your talent is less than. Your work is incredible. You’re incredible. You shouldn’t keep it in these dusty rooms for no one to see.”

He took the original picture he selected and left. Giving them privacy to paint while he went to hang this in its proper place in the dining room. He’d come back for the others later. Ready to bring them into the light, when they were ready.

[mewhenimanangel]

cherry, eren jaeger

—synopsis. you and eren reunite after almost two years.

—chapter 10 ౨ৎ

𝜗𝜚 content!: au-college/university, time skip, black reader, au-modern, reuniting, confessions, oral sex, breastplay, piv sex, missionary, filthy smut, long chapter

previous ౨ৎ

nia’s ౨ৎ notes: this chapter is pretty long but i felt it was necessary. i loved this story so much it was so cute and so sweet. thanks for reading! 🫧🎀

today was lana's birthday, her 21st to be exact, and you were driving down to her apartment for her party, you were quick with your movements considering you were running a little bit late and it was an hour and a half drive down.

it had been almost two years since you graduated from high school. since then you committed to your dream college about an hour away from home and you were studying for your dream career.

you had a part time job at a clothing store near by and a paid internship at a marketing brand company, so you were always busy between those obligations and classes. but there was no way you were going to miss your best friend's birthday.

your college experience was enjoyable for the most part - you joined the dance team, and were part of the honors program for the school. you were lucky enough to find a really nice roommate, evanie, who you grew fairly close to the last two years, you guys even agreed to continue being roommates as long as you attended the school.

you met a few friends at uni - brooklyn, who was a total party girl and who always brought the excitement. brooklyn's girlfriend, dana, who was a little more introvert than brooklyn, but was really funny and a talented artist. and you met parker, a charming and caring guy with a lean body, in your statistics class freshman year.

who which you hooked up with a bunch of times, and though he assured you he loved every second of it, he decided to come to terms with the fact that he was gay and you guys decided to stay friends.

thanks to brooklyn, you went out a lot more than you thought you would. clubbing, sleepovers with the group, a road trip to the beach - which you missed an exam for, you went to parties here and there, hooked up here and there.

you hadn't really been in any relationships in college, it was more or less, sex. you had this thing with a guy you'd met at a party. his name was daniel, but insisted everyone called him danny. he was on the basketball team.

your thing with him lasted about two months before he accepted a transfer offer to a better school and decided that whatever you and him were, wasn't enough of anything to hold on to. but there were no hard feelings, you were thinking the same.

after he transferred halfway through this school year, it had you thinking about eren again. who you had a sneaky suspicion would be at this party tonight, though lana swore he wouldn't.

it's been almost a year since the last time you spoke to him. not because of anything bad, you just grew apart.

he went to the university of marley and you both just got so busy that you never really talked much anymore.

over the summer before college, you had hooked up at jean's fourth of july party. no one knew about it.

once the barbecue was over, eren offered to drop you home. though, once he pulled up outside your house, something came over the both of you and you smashed your lips against his.

you were lucky eren's windows were tinted so nobody could see the way you crawled over the console to sit on his lap while his mouth left marks all over your neck. or how you grinded your hips against his growing dick.

his hands tangled in your hair as he laid his car seat back and pulled his pants down.

you shook the memory out of your head as you turned left down an intersection. you called lana to tell her you were on your way as you anxiously checked your back seat to make sure her gifts were in fact there.

you had gotten her a designer bag you knew she always wanted and you got dana to paint a picture of the two of you when you were younger.

you searched for five minutes for a parking spot outside of lana's apartment before you went up the elevator to her floor.

you rest the painting and the gift bag at the side of her door before you knocked, it was a rather big painting and you didn't want her to see it just yet.

lana opened the door with a big smile on her face and arms out ready to give you a hug. "happy birthday oh my god you're becoming a big girl" you joked as you squeezed her tight.

"ugh i'm just so glad you made it" she hugged you tighter. "of course i would make it" you said as you held her arms. you took the chance to look past her for a second, the apartment was filled with people - some you recognized, some you didn't. there was music bumping, and people dancing.

you could see a table by her windows filled with mini sandwiches, snacks, deserts, and pizza. everyone was dressed nice as lana told everyone to.

there were pink streamers and flowers decorating her already decorated apartment. she offered for you to live with her full time and as much as you would've loved to, it was just too far from your school. so during the summers, after going back home to your mom, you would spend weeks at a time at her apartment.

"i got you a present" you smirked as you leaned down to grab the gifts of the floor. "ooou you did?" she smiled.

you showed her the painting and she smiled before thanking you and bringing you to her bedroom.

"i'm definitely hanging this up in my living room once all these people leave" she told you and you giggled.

"oh and i have this" you handed her the gift bag as she opened it to find the purse. "no fucking way! how did you buy this?? don't you have student loans to pay off?" she joked.

"alright not too much cause i could take it back real quick" you laughed "i got it when it was on sale" you told her.

"you know im just playing with you, thank you so much" she hugged you again. "did connie come yet?" you asked her. "no not yet" she smirked "why, worried about eren showing up?"

"no!...no i'm not worried. i'm sure he's moved on too. it's just been a while" you shrugged. "you want me to tell con not to bring eren?" she asked you as she lead you out of the room.

"y/n! oh my god i've missed you so much" sasha threw her arms around you for a hug. "i didn't know you'd be coming" she told you. "hey sash, i've missed you too" you smiled. "you have to try the mini sandwiches" she told you. "oh i will" you giggled before she walked over to the table of food.

you said hi to some more familiar faces, occasionally falling into conversations with them - usual questions about school, work, life, etc. before lana found you again.

the sun was beginning to set and you joined your friends in the living room, dancing and sipping on your drinks.

"i'll be right back okay?" lana told you and you nod your head as you continued dancing with mikasa and sasha.

she opened her front door to see connie and eren standing on the other side. "oh baby i'm so sorry. there was so much traffic" connie immediately threw his arms around her. "happy birthday my love, im so sorry" he kissed her forehead.

"it's okay, you can make it up to me later" she winked before bringing him in for a kiss.

"hey eren" she waved before he brought her in for a side hug. "what's up, happy birthday"  she smiled and thanked him.

she closed the door behind them before grabbing connie's hand. "come on baby i wanna show you what y/n got me" she pulled him to her room.

eren perked up at the mention of your name. obviously he knew you would be here but actually being here knowing you were in the same room was a little too real.

"yo man, what took y'all so long" ony dapped him up. "so much traffic" eren hugged him. "it's good to see you bro it's been mad long" ony told him. "yeah man i've been keeping busy"

they talked for a bit before eren’s eyes scanned the room before landing on you. you looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you, you looked so mature and confident.

your complexion was a little more tan than before, your hair looked as though you’d cut it shorter and it was straightened. you were in a pretty yellow dress and a cute little pair of open toed heels. there was a glass of wine in your hand as you talked to someone he didn’t recognize.

his heart sank when you looked over for a moment and your caught his eyes on you. there it was again, those tantalizing eyes and that charming smile.

the last time eren saw you was in armin’s pool as you all decided to do one last hang out with the group before you would be going your separate ways. after that the most you and him did was text, which fizzled out, his last message with you dating back nine months.

you felt your heart pick up when your eyes landed on eren. his hair was even shorter now, almost back to the way you remembered he wore it in middle school. he looked like he had put on a bit of muscle and grown an inch or two. his outfit looked nice and put together. you indulged in the thought that he got dressed today with you on the brain, the way you did.

you just stood there looking at each other, it became almost rude to the people you were both talking to. you excused yourself from your conversation before making your way over to him.

“hey stranger” he said first, same old grin on his face. ony took this as a sign to step away and let the two of you mingle. “hii, it’s so nice to see you” you reached out to hug him, holding out your drink. his arms wrapped around your waist.

“how’ve you been? you look good” you told him. “thanks,, i can definitely say the same about you” you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed over you for a second as your lips curled into a smirk.

“so what’s up with you?” you asked him. “just keeping busy you know, school is slamming me. i’ve been working with some brands though”

the two of you talked for longer than you realized, catching each other up on your lives. you poured him a drink before you made your way out onto lana’s fire escape. you talked about your respective college experiences, work, your internship, his projects with brands, anything your minds led to.

talking with him made you realize how much you’ve both grown since the last time you saw each other and just how much you both missed each other.

you took a second to really look at each other as, just for a moment, eren’s eyes dipped down to your lips. a sly grin drew on both your faces as you let out a giggle.

“i have to ask, are you…seeing anyone?” he asked you “no not necessarily” he searched your face for an answer before you laughed. “no, no i’m not” you told him.

he took a step closer to you, standing so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brush against your knee. you looked up at him, still taller than you even with your heels on, waiting for what he would do next.

“so,, does that mean i can do this?” he brushed your hair out of your face, letting his hand rest on your cheek and leaned in. you grinned as you followed along and held onto his waist, lips meeting for just a moment before connie knocked on the window, making you both jump and step away from each other.

“save that for later, we bout to sing happy birthday come on!” he told you before stepping away.

you looked at each other and laughed before climbing back into the apartment and joining everyone in singing happy birthday.

you and connie were first to give lana hugs and kisses and get your pictures taken before everyone else did the same. the whole time, eren’s eyes were just on you. he missed your smile, and your laugh, and the way you always made other people smile.

once the party was over you, connie, and eren stayed behind to help lana clean up. the four of you talked for a bit, munching on cake and the finger foods you were helping her put away.

“well i think it’s time i head out” you yawned. “okay there’s no way you’re leaving, your campus is like an hour and a half away. plus you’re still tipsy” lana insisted.

“how about you stay in the second bedroom?” she offered. you took a second to look at eren, hiding the small smirk on your face. lana clocked it immediately. “um i can take her” eren spoke up. “hm, very well then.” she nod her head before coming to give you a hug.

“stay safe and make sure he has a condom” she whispered in your ear and you giggled.

eren led the way out of lana’s apartment and down to your car. you let him drive since he had less to drink than you did and he drove to his brother’s apartment where he was staying.

he led you upstairs and opened the door to a spacious apartment with big windows overlooking the city. “jesus what does your brother do” you asked as eren closed the door behind you. “he’s a doctor or something like that. he’s not here though” eren told you as he leaned against the counter and watched you look down at the city.

you turned around to see a mischievous glint in his eyes. he cleared his throat before showing you to the guest room. “um there’s some clothes i had left in there from when i came down here with my mom if you wanna change” he told you.

“aw how is she?” you asked earnestly. “she’s good, she still loves and misses her prized dancer” eren grinned.

ʚɞ

you woke up in the middle of the night looking for water when you saw eren sitting at the kitchen island, doing something on his computer.

he turned your way when he heard the door open. “oh hey, can’t sleep?” he asked you. “nah, just thirsty” “there’s some water in the fridge, i’ll get you some” he got up to take a bottle of water out and handed it to you and you thanked him.

“what are you working on?” you asked him. “something for a class, i was supposed to finish it earlier but i put it off for lana’s party….which I’m glad i did cause i got to see you” he turned to you at the last part.

“i missed you a lot you know” he told you. “i missed you too. it was so nice seeing you again”

he didn’t say anything for a moment and you watched as though the gears in his head were turning.

“y/n….i really want to be with you. i can’t keep ignoring it anymore. i’ve wanted to be with you since we everything senior year. i tried to just push it down and get over you and try on new people but nobody fits, nobody but you. i don’t want this to be like last time, i don’t want this to be the last time i see you for another two years. it’s time for us to grow up and for me to admit that i really fucking want you and i think you want me too…”

you felt like you got the wind knocked out of you with the mini monologue he went on declaring his feelings for you.

“of course i want you too. i want you so bad eren, i don’t think my feelings for you ever really went away. i just, i don’t even know i was just a stupid seventeen year old who didn’t know what to do but i do know now. i want to be with you ren”

a moment went by before eren pulled you in for a hug. “god i’ve been dreaming to hear you say that” he mumbled into your shoulder while your hands played with the back of his hair.

he lift his head off your chest to look up at you and before you could even think, your lips were on his.

the kiss quickly changed from a soft pace to the two of you kissing like your lives depended on it. it was filled with years of tension and need.

eren stood up from the chair, pushing you up against the wall behind you as his hands dipped underneath the shirt you wore and held on to your waist. your mouths continued fighting to taste each other as your arms were wrapped around his neck.

you groaned in his mouth when you felt him grope your boob from under your shirt and his thumb grazed over your nipple. you felt him smirk against your mouth. “still like getting your tits played with?” he teased before moving to leave kisses and marks down your neck.

he reached for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the living room. he grabbed your boob and put it in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl over your nipple and sucking on it like a sweet.

a moan fell past your lips as you felt your face getting hot and you tangled your fingers through his hair. he pointed his tongue directly on the sensitive bud, reveling in the sweet noises you were making, like music to his ears.

you could feel your panties moistening by the second as you let your head lay back on the wall. he moved off your tit to show the other one some love, groping at it before putting it in his mouth.

he kissed along your collarbones before meeting your lips again. your hand dipped between your bodies and you teasingly grazed your fingers over the tent in his shorts. “mm what are you doing princess” “haven’t heard that one in a while” you grinned. “i wanna suck your dick” you looked him straight in the eyes.

“i won’t stop you” he smirked. you lowered yourself to your knees, keeping your eyes on his. you reached for the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down, revealing his dick print against his boxers. you pulled those down too.

face to face with his flushed dick, you wrapped your hand around it, slowing pumping to tease him. you licked a kitten lick over his tip, smirking when you heard his sharp inhale.

you pumped his cock between your fist as he let out small moans. most of the guys you’d hooked up with during college were too full of themselves to make any noise during sex. you enjoyed the groans he gave as he carefully held your hair in his hand.

you finally put his dick in your mouth, starting with his tip while you continued jerking him off. you slackened your jaw and manually breathed through your nose as you felt his cock fill your mouth. eren was definitely the biggest you’ve been with.

you combined your vacuuming lips with the licking of your tongue and it sent eren over the edge. one hand held onto the wall in front of him while the other kept a hold on your hair.

“fuck you’re so good at that” he whimpered. you licked along a vein near his tip and you felt his dick jump in your mouth.

“fuck y/n, think i’m gonna cum” he began shifting his hips, pushing himself further in your mouth. you felt his tip touch the back of your throat and you willed yourself not to gag, tears pricking your eyes. “you want my cum in your mouth, princess?” you nod your head.

a few seconds later he came and you swallowed every last drop. somehow, he was still hard and ready to go.

you got off your knees and he hugged your waist before kissing you again. “i’ll make you some tea for your throat” he said before lifting you up and carrying you back to the guest bedroom. he closed the door with his foot before laying you down on the bed.

you propped yourself up on your elbows as he pulled your pants and your panties down in one swift motion before he pulled off his wife beater, throwing all the pieces of clothes somewhere in the room. you think this is the first time you’ve seen each other fully naked.

“you’ve been working out?” you asked, trailing your hands over his soft abs. “yeah but i haven’t been in a while” he crawled on the bed and spread your legs, placing himself between them.

he squeezed your boobs before trailing his hands down to your vagina. you moaned feeling a finger rub over your clit before dipping in your hole.

he smirked before reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a condom. “no need,,i’m in the pill. i wanna feel you” you told him.

he leaned down to kiss you again. “gonna fuck you so good baby” he whispered in your ear before lining his dick up with your entrance.

he eased himself inside you, hands gripping your hips as his hips snapped against yours in an erotic rhythm.

you felt him fill you up, brain going fuzzy. you reached behind you to grip onto the pillows. “oh my fucking god, ren- feels so good” your words came out airy as every hump inside you made you lose your breath.

your tits bounced and you felt the bed squeak as eren got more rough with his thrusts. “you feel so fucking good princess, like this pretty pussy was made for me” his grip on your hips got tighter.

your pussy engulfed his dick, you could feel his balls slapping against your skin.

the room was filled with the vulgar noise of your skin slapping against his, your pornographic moans, and eren’s grunts. for a second you wondered if the neighbors could hear you.

but you were too busy getting fucked out to care.

eren threw your leg over his shoulder leaning down to deepen himself inside you. “oh my god eren i’m gonna cum” a moan ripped out of you at the new angle.

“go ahead baby, wanna feel you rush on my dick” he kissed your forehead, holding on to the headboard behind you.

it didn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to snap and you were cumming all over eren’s cock. he followed suit soon after too and the two of you sat there for a few seconds trying to catch your breaths.

he pulled you in for a hug and you could feel his heart racing against your chest. you stayed like that for a while, hugging each other while eren’s dick was still buried inside you. “i think i love you y/n, if that’s not insane to say” he said, making you chuckle.

“it’s not. i love you too” you said before he pressed his lips against yours. this one much different than the one before - this one soft and gentle and sweet.

you kissed each other, never wanting to let go now that you’ve made your way back to one another.

[verysium]

how bllk boys would react when u draw them, could either be rlly good or rlly SHIT u choose idk (plz include barou and the itoshi bros) 😊😊😊 i love you and ur works, and the way u write the boys and ur content makes me laugh fr, one of my fave bllk authors mwjahaja 😓 have a great day, ily:3 and the icks post made me smile like all of ur posts do!

thank you so much anon ♡ this ask had me contemplating very seriously, so apologies if it's a bit late:

sae is definitely awestruck in some way, even if he doesn't immediately show it. i think i talked about this in a previous headcanon, but he has a deep-seated admiration for artists who can grasp abstract concepts because he himself cannot. he would be somewhat flattered if you drew him since he's never considered his own appearance to be particularly inspiring. would be appalled if you considered him your muse. like....why? to him, his looks aren't anything of importance (clearly he is blind.) would probably say your drawing was inaccurate but then hang it up by his nightstand so he can look at it every night before he goes to sleep. if you're a full-time artist, he probably keeps a little stash of your gifts in a small box beneath his bed. sometimes if he's having a bad day or he lost a game, he goes back and flips through them just to make himself feel better. secretly loves the way you draw his bangs and the little swoop you do in your signature.

kaiser corrects every single detail in your drawing. stands behind you and gives you little pointers here and there. he should have an 8-pack, not a 6-pack. his jawline isn't sharp enough in your initial sketch. poses shirtless in front of you so that way you can encapsulate the full extent of his sexiness. shows off your drawing to every living creature in existence. "isn't he handsome?" like...🙄 yeah, michael we know. he's probably the hardest to draw because of his tattoo, so i think he genuinely appreciates it when you put in the effort to capture his intricacies. will never admit this but he's low-key proud of you and your talent (mostly just your ability to make him look good.)

rin is one of those people who doesn't understand hyperrealism. like why does he need a highly detailed sketch of his face when he can just take a photo and print it out? i don't think he understands art in general. probably despises modern art too. he'd take one look at a rothko painting and be like....i could draw this too...in my sleep. similar to sae, i feel like he's just numb to the sentimentality of gift-giving. doesn't understand why you would waste your time drawing a little picture of him, but it does make his heart feel strangely fuzzier, so maybe he'll keep it this one time. lo and behold, months later he now has a collection of your drawings he doesn't have the heart to throw away. refuses to let isagi or anyone see them because they're meant for his eyes only.

yukimiya has impeccable taste. in fact, he's probably an artist himself. i think it'd be cute if you both drew little sketches of each other throughout the course of your relationship. but neither of you ever knew until you gifted him your sketchbook for christmas, and he was like....guess what...i drew you too. thinks you're pretty even when you don't think so. sometimes when you're having a coffee shop date, he scribbles a portrait of you on his napkin because the sunlight hit your cheek just right in that moment, and the birds were chirping, and he fell in love all over again. i think it's also tragic that he's slowly losing his eyesight, so he won't be able to enjoy your drawings and the vibrant colors you infuse into them. that's why he treasures them even more. probably thumbs over the pages from time to time. memorizes every stroke and line.

isagi likes the way you always draw that little tuft of hair that sticks up on the top of his head. it looks like a cute little bean sprout. he pins your drawings up above his bed next to a polaroid of you two in germany. buys you a professional art set for your birthday. if you're a digital artist, he buys you a new tablet and stylus.

bachira adds his own doodles next to yours except he makes a chibi version of everything. always pesters you to include his little fangs. uses the boldest combination of colors. he would definitely be a messy artist. paint everywhere. fingernails perpetually stained a different color. you both draw during class, so when you two trade notebooks to actually study......there aren't any actual notes.

barou acts like he doesn't know what to do with your drawing of him but then the next day you visit his house, and he's already put your artwork in a fancy picture frame. refuses to let anyone else even stand within a ten meter radius next to it because he doesn't want their "nasty fingerprints" all over your beautiful masterpiece.

[eph3merall]

some loser!reader lore , but in headcanon form. and headcanons of her in general.

lil longer than i intended for this to be, but fuck it we ball

loser!reader . . .

ೀ ; despises social settings due to a party when she was little. everyone ended up getting too close, bombing her with questions and giving her no room to answer. there were too many people around her, making it feel suffocating—like she was trapped.

ೀ ; has the talent but not the passion for her hobbies. she enjoys art here and there, whether it's drawings and sketches or paintings or even things like photography. she's had so much free time as a child, she taught herself ways to entertain. she's good at drawing, etching out scratchy lines yet they come together so perfectly in the end. but she'll get burnt out, get bored of the activity, or take so many ridiculous 'break's.

ೀ ; gets off track on things a lot. she'll be talking to someone and say something that reminds her of something else, then continue to talk about that and then eventually get back to her main point and by then the person who's she talking with is trying to leave or bored out of their minds.

ೀ ; has this constant guilt in her chest like everything that's went wrong is her fault. she doesn't want to be like this at all, since it makes her apologize every second and she hates the look on people's faces when she does so. namely, chris. chris hates whenever she'd mumble a little 'sorry' for something that just wasn't her fault, resulting in arguments and far too many tears for either of their liking.

ೀ ; often forgets to take care of herself. chris isnt the type to remind her either, nor were her parents. so you'll find her skipping meals, not resting, not having the motivation to do much of anything. she'll resort to marijuana at times like this, and that isn't ever a good idea because it just makes her feel worse.

ೀ ; got picked on as a little kid. those popular kids with their long blonde hair, light up sneakers, and bright clothing. it wasn't like she didn't want to be friends with them, of course she did. she had an unmistakable habit of seeing the good in everyone, even when there wasn't much 'good' to go off of. those girls would laugh in her face, sit at their little round table and gossip about her while she was sitting on that rainbow carpet with a book in her lap. she never understood why.

ೀ ; has a rough relationship with her parents. it's not like they're out of the picture, because they aren't. but whenever she gets reminded of her mom or dad, good memories flood her mind before getting drowned out with the bad ones. constant arguments, hateful eyes, annoyed voices. the beer bottles and rolled joints perched on the kitchen table, practically having to wade through trash to even get to a different room. her childhood cat, her mom ending up selling it because she complained that it was 'taking up space and a waste of money'.

ೀ ; doesn't have all bad memories about her parents though. she'd remember how they'd always feed her obsession of reading and books in general, getting her new ones and buying the next one in a series she enjoyed for her birthday. her mom would rearrange her plushies since she never made her bed, making sure they always returned to their original position. her dad used to take her outside, bundled up in layers and a thick scarf to sit on their porch and watch the snow fall or the occasional shooting stars. her mom would always let her hold onto her hand, even when she was driving, and had to lean her arm back to let loser!reader wrap little fingers around her mom's pointer. all those memories were all a little bittersweet, making her chest hurt but her lips wobble into a little smile.

ೀ ; constantly has the need to pick at something. whether it's the skin on her lips or her cuticles. she was a nail biter as a kid, and her mom used to paint clear nail polish on to try and stop her biting. it never worked, and she enjoyed the taste of the polish kinda. but as she grew up, the taste and feel of her nails felt icky in her mouth and she resorted to skin. the cuticles on her thumbs are always, always in bad shape. maybe they're halfway healed, but they're at least a little ripped up everyday. her lips are in the same boat, red and abused. they sting a little whenever she eats or runs her tongue over them, but it only happens in the worst scenarios, usually when her lip started bleeding.

ೀ ; doodles in class. always with pen, never with pencil. her go to is little sleepy cats. sometimes she catches herself sketching chris' face, with a hat on his head and curls peeking out from under the brim. but always, before she finished his face, it gets scratched out.

ೀ ; is so picky. dislikes a lot of food she enjoyed as a child, and some things are just a sensory nightmare for her. she despises things like pickles and olives, and she's never enjoyed sushi or much seafood either.

ೀ ; rocks eyebags no matter how much sleep she's gotten for the day. there will always be eyebags under her eyes, maybe some days they're more noticeable than others—but you won't ever see them really disappear or anything.

ೀ ; loves walks. she'll take a stroll in the woods with a pair of headphones on, sometimes the crunch of leaves filters in through the loud music, and she finds comfort in the sound. she enjoys her own time, absolutely adores the quiet. unlike fratboy!chris, who prefers the atmosphere of parties. but, then again, loser!reader wont always go out. she does prefer staying inside, but when she has the energy and motivation she'll go out for a twenty or so minute walk.

ೀ ; was obsessed with wars as a child. not even in a weird way, she found everything just so fascinating. 'why did so and so do this?' 'what caused this war?' 'could it have been prevented?' fixated on the cold war for a little while, that being one of the only things she wanted to talk to people about before her parents told her to 'quit it' because it was 'creepy and weird'.

ೀ ; has gotten bullied for many of her interests before.

ೀ ; who always has a messy desk. everything else could be somewhat clean, but her desk and drawers are always messy and she kind of hates it sometimes. will try to clean them, fail, and tell herself she'll do it 'later'.

ೀ ; always pretends to not care when fratboy!chris is mean to her or something. she's always been told to stop crying or has been turned away whenever she seeks out affection and comfort—chris doing the same. so she just nods her head and laughs along with him or the group, hating the way her throat would tighten up and she'd grow all tense.

ೀ ; is horrible at keeping conversations flowing. it's one of the reasons its so hard for her to keep friends as well, she just doesn't click with people like she did with that one special person. it's not like she cant talk to people, but when the conversation starts dying its almost impossible for her to revive it.

ೀ ; gets burnt out easily. it's not like she isn't smart, because she really is. her grades reflect it for the first month or two of the semester, then they slowly and gradually drop down to D's and sometimes the occasional F before she's scrambling to finish all her work to try and bring the grades back up.

ೀ ; wishes she could get her emotions under control more easily. she has major mood swings and her emotions will flip around a lot depending on who's she with and what's happened during the day. she'll snap at people without having the desire to, rushing to apologize as that familiar seed of guilt plants itself in her chest even after the person reassures her that it's truly okay.

ೀ ; loves jewelry, but hates the amount of time it takes to remove everything once she's finished with her classes or back in her dorm for the night. she's practically itching to get the necklace off around her neck that feels like it's choking her in a way, to rid herself of the rings that suddenly feel like they're suffocating her fingers. her bracelets suddenly feel too tight around her wrists and she'll shed them off, only to put them back on the next day with maybe a little variety / some differences.

ೀ ; unfortunately loves (or loved) almost everyone and everything she's befriended at least once.

ೀ ; is so unsure of why fratboy!chris hangs out with her. it baffles her everyday, because she was her, and chris was chris. of course she won't complain, but it always manages to strike confusion in her.

ೀ ; asks silly questions randomly when around people she's comfortable with. 'do you ever wonder ... ?' 'what color do i remind you of?' 'imagine i turned into your least favorite thing ever and you had to be my friend for years to turn me back, would you do it yes or no?'

ೀ ; assigns people she cares about colors, seasons, candy flavors, with very detailed explanations too. 'not everyone likes sour candy, but people usually just need to give it a try and it ends up being a lot if people's favorite in the end.'

ೀ ; sometimes wonders why her generosity never gets repayed. but then she feels guilty and selfish for even thinking like that, suddenly getting all nervous since she hates being mean. she's almost immediately lighting a smoke or trying to distract herself.

ೀ ; pretends to not notice the glances and glares she gets whenever shes with fratboy!chris. if she stays blissfully unaware of it, it's like it never even happened and she can pretend that group of girls isnt about to try and swoop in to get chris in their bed.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis

©eph3merall 2024

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can i request headcanons for helen, BEN, and jeff with a reader that does photography

I've technically written Helen and Jeff both before, but they're both old and don't have much substance, so I'm gonna go for my rare decision of rewriting both of them. I'll still link to the old asks though.

Jeff with a crime scene photographer| Jeff with a photography major s/o| Helen with a photographer s/o

I think those are pretty outdated, so I just wanna give a newer answer :)

Helen:

I stand by my previous answer that Helen, in his love for art, enjoys viewing photography, but doesn't enjoy taking photos himself because he prefers to feel the art, but he will absolutely be engaged in your own photography. Whenever you've been out taking photos he always asks to see how they came out, and I can see him actually using his favorites of your photos as references for drawings or paintings. He understands photography theory, and while he doesn't love doing it himself, I think he'd for sure give you some pointers if you asked for them, and I still think if you're interested in landscape photography he'd take you to all of his favorite spots with good views to make sure you can find some good places. I previously said Helen hates having his photo taken, and while I no longer abide by that, I do still think you're the only person he'd let photograph him. He volunteers himself very easily to act as a model if you need him to, for practice or just to take some photos of him, and he's a very good model for you. He'll wear whatever clothing you'd like, and he's incredibly expressive, showing more emotion than he normally would depending on what kind of shots you're going for, and he makes for a great test subject if you want to practice shooting in specific locations. He always praises you for your work because he thinks you're an incredible photographer, but if you ever praise him for his work as a model that he'd get quite flustered about it. Helen loves helping you out in any way that he can, as not only a fellow artist, but as your partner.

BEN:

BEN himself absolutely loves photography. He likes taking his own pictures of different things, although he's never really had the practice or advice of taking them with someone much more practiced in photography, and I think he'd like taking photos alongside you. I mean, I can see him buying a really nice camera just so he can take better photos alongside you instead of just using his phone camera. He asks you for advice a lot, and he's always really excited when you give him pointers. I can see him going out when you're both apart and trying to take a bunch of photos so that he can show you them when you see each other next so that he can ask you if there's anything he can do better, but also just to see if you like them, and of course you do. It always makes him so giddy and excited when you praise his photography, since he has such high respect for you as a photographer, so it feels so special when you tell him he's doing a good job. I can also see him just asking to accompany you out while you're out so he can watch you at work, one so he can see how you do stuff, and two because he just loves watching you take photos because he thinks you look so attractive when you're focused on your photos. Even if you're taking photos of other people, he'll go into his ghostly form and hide from them just so he can get a shot at your talent in action. He thinks you're the most talented photographer in the whole world, and I absolutely see him printing off a bunch of your photos and hanging them in his room so he can always look at them and think of you.

Jeff:

Jeff is so, so incredibly impressed with all of your photos, regardless of their quality, because he feels he's always sucked at taking pictures and he thinks that yours are just absolutely incredible. Like with BEN, I think he likes following you around whenever you're out and about taking photos of things, and he always offers to carry any of your equipment for you so he can try and be useful while he's at it. I think while you're taking pictures of whatever your subject matter is, Jeff tries to take pictures of you. He loves how much effort you put into your work, and he likes trying to capture that in a photo, especially if you're surrounded by beautiful scenery while you're out taking photos, and he does start to get better at picture taking while he does this over time. I said in a previous ask that Jeff's stipulation for you taking pictures of him was that you have to be in them too, and while I think that's true for any photos you might share, I think when he trusts you fully that he'd let you use him as a model on the condition only the two of you see the photos. He's so self-conscious of his appearance, but you always praise him and say he looks wonderful, so he does it for you because seeing you happy makes him happy (but if you break your promise to him he will never let you take another photo of him again, so, ya know, keep being extra sweet and good to him). He's always in awe and wonder at your photos, and quite honestly when he sees the photos you take of him he feels like he's looking at someone else with how great they look. He just loves you so much and being a part of your passion makes him feel so honored.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sweet pleasures (Part 2)

Summary: You accidentally capture the attention of Lucius the Eternal while your world dies under the oppression of heretics

Lucius The Eternal/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, noncon

Word count: 1941

Author's note: I finally pulled myself together and wrote a sequel. Just before publishing, I reread Part 1 and must admit that I write better with each post. It makes me happy. Although this is my least favorite work. I will write more about Lucius (I adore him). But there will be no part 3 to this story.

Song: The Sisters of Mercy - More

In his long life, he had seen many creatures of the warp. Disgusting and seductive, communicating pleasure and agony. There were mutants, too, but almost all could be placed according to a certain characteristic. One of the brothers once told him that he was raising such cattle for his table. Fabius even became a gene father for his “children”.

Yes, Lucius had seen a lot. But you were a breath of fresh air. He had never encountered mutants capable of charming mere mortals before. As Cesare noted, your pheromones work especially well when you feel fear. A kind of protection from predators.

Of course, the space marine was thinking about turning you into a substance. Turning you into a potent drug in your dying peak of agony and pleasure was a tempting idea. But it was pointless. You were already in your original form.

It was a stroke of luck that Cohors Nasicae and the other gangs had headed to your wretched planet. Lucius was frankly bored with the entertainment that came with the battles. But even the fights themselves were predictable and terribly empty.

However, your scent, intoxicating and seductive, filled the man from the fear he caused. Reminded him of a desire he had not often resorted to despite the mercy of Slaanesh... so why not indulge himself? He is the best swordsman in the entire Galaxy. Of course, such a valuable exhibit as you should go to him. Besides, he deserved it. In a way, Lucius could even consider himself your savior.

You were frankly lucky, but eventually the Inquisition had to get on your trail. And given the reaction you caused in those around you, they would clearly regard you as seduced by a daemonette. Even if it was not true. At least until now.

The Space Marine had many trophies. Be it painted pictures or the entrails of his enemies. Lucius collected everything that seemed interesting to him, turning the chambers into a dump. This wretched planet will quickly fade from the man's memory, you are unlikely to pass for a trophy. On the other hand, he never had a pet. Lucius is sure that you do not even need to be trained. You will be an obedient girl.

***

You dreamed of finding yourself in the saving darkness again, but alas, it was only a delay of the inevitable. To die under the rubble or from the sword of blessing. Many were unlucky and their bodies and souls were mocked for a long time. And yet, all the unfortunate eventually gave up the ghost. All who participated in the ritual who served the new masters for a short time. All.

Except you. And that was the most terrible thing. When half-dead slaves, stinking of fear and pain, brought you to reality, you were ready to kill them. And later you were ready to beg them to save you from your gloomy future. But all you did was quietly cry.

You would have laughed at the name of the ship if you had not been so morally exhausted. Diadem. Such an elegant name, more suitable for the crew of a spoiled and naive aristocrat. Once you pretended to be exactly like that to get to the ball. Although now you wonder if they really believed you. Or were they so enchanted by you that they decided to turn a blind eye.

It was probably the latter. You were beginning to doubt your talents. You had nothing to offer the Imperium but your charm. But you never will. The slaves made it clear to you that you had only one task now. To entertain Lucius the Eternal. The flawless and shining blade of the Emperor's Children. The greatest champion of Slaanesh.

It is such an honor, they said. Despite all the desire to fall into hysterics and spit on the slaves, you felt pity. These creatures are but a shell of what were once a humans. Now they are only convenient tools and pleasant flesh to cut and eat. Filled with nothing but feelings and desires, rejected by the God-Emperor.

And you will soon be one of them. You will drag out your miserable existence far from the light. You will forget your home and will begin to perceive this ship as an extension of yourself. Stained with blood and secretions, mangled and executed in the most wretched form. The Diadem was only a parody of beauty.

And although the slaves, furiously washing you, said that a different fate awaited you, you could not believe in the best. Maybe you will not blend into the crowd. Maybe you will have a better position. But for traitors, you are nothing more than a tasty piece of meat. Which should serve for a very long time.

Perhaps an eternity, given the nickname of your master.

Your small washed body in silks looks alien in this place. You were like a feather or a breath of wind. Inconspicuous. Insignificant. While bright colors and many trophies screamed about luxury and depravity. They were much more suitable for their disgusting master, who deigned to return to his own chambers.

At the sight of you, waiting for him, a carnivorous smile paints the man's face. So wide that some of the small scars open up, staining the pale skin red with blood. You feel sick just from the sight of it, but the worst thing is when the monster starts talking.

“You stink, you know that?” - the man runs his tongue over his lips, slowly removing the armor. The parts filled with human faces slide off his body on their own. - “Sickeningly sweet and sour. An incredible range of emotions. You would make an excellent perfume, sugar.”

You can no longer restrain yourself and begin to cry loudly. Only a scream leaves your lips. No matter how much you want to, you cannot speak, you cannot force yourself to beg. Even knowing your inevitable fate, you desperately cling to a non-existent hope.

“Well, well, my dear. I haven’t even had time to do anything, and you’re already spoiling me.” - the man moans, clutching his sides, sucking in air like a starving man. And yet his face twitches, either from discontent or from thoughtfulness. - “But fear alone is not enough.”

A completely naked, grotesquely pale and fleshy man approaches the wall before pulling out a sleek, thin sword. Lucius runs it over his tongue, cutting through the soft flesh. You cringe at the sight, glad that your stomach and bladder have emptied while you were being prepared. At least that way you won't embarrass yourself.

You don't even have time to breathe before the metal lightly touches your hand. Looking down, you see a thin, surgically precise cut. As the blood begins to show, you realize reality. And with it, pain.

Another swing and another scratch appears on your palm. A scream echoes through the room. It takes you a moment to realize that it's coming from your throat. A groan echoes above your ear. The man almost purrs, sinking down onto the bed next to you. His sword smoothly traces your side before cutting through the flesh. The process is much slower this time. And more painful. You burst into tears even more.

“Believe me, I don’t want to hurt you at all. I’ll force myself to.” - Lucius kisses your cheek softly before nuzzling your neck. - “I would have been less merciful with other slaves. Still, I had to know what you smell like when you’re in pain.”

A rough tongue gently traces a line from your shoulder to your cheek, leaving a bloody trail. Before invading your mouth. The Space Marine throws away his sword and you could breathe a sigh of relief if you had anything to breathe with.

Now with both free hands, the man touches you, greedily digging his fingers into your flesh, leaving bruises. For a second, you think that a little more and you will suffocate. But Lucius breaks away from your lips with a loud pop and you just can’t help but start gulping for air as if it will be taken away from you again.

“And this,” the man leans towards you, his velvety voice gently touching your ears. - “Absolutely amazing.”

You sob, tired of screaming and crying, while someone else’s hands begin to tear your clothes. “One day you will learn to enjoy pain, sugar. In the meantime, let me get it for you in a different way.”

“N-no.”

“Yes. You will like it, just relax.” - the man presses his right hand to your legs. Or what is left of it. The red tentacles are already quite wet on their own, and therefore easily pass inside you. You squeak, trying to move away, but someone else’s hand does not allow you to do this, pressing the narcotic drink to your mouth, which you are forced to swallow. - “I will take care of it.”

The madness of the flesh captured you. And if at first you resisted, then soon you gave in to the overwhelming feeling of pleasure. And yet, the worm of shame crept up in your stomach, not allowing you to let go of the pieces of your mind so easily. Especially when, under the veil of fog, you heard about how perfect you were. But you, broken and shattered, could not agree with it.

***

Eternity is a flexible concept. In the end, everything can become boring at any moment. And unprecedented suffering, which used to cause pain, could instantly turn into pleasure. Or at least you could get used to it.

This was your option. Your only release. The only salvation. Let the master enjoy your body, get drunk on drugs to make it easier. Get used to these chambers. Get used to the fact that the Diadem is your new home. Forever.

You get tired of looking in one corner and turn over on the bed, finding a familiar face. You can get used to all the horrors and inhumanity, but perhaps you will never be able to get used to the sleeping Lucius. At this moment, his face calms down and it is as if he turns into another person. Into the previous version of himself, forever lost and rejected by him.

He has always been a braggart. And he has always improved himself in the art of war. This was his identity, and it was this that began his corruption. But he once believed in the Imperium. Once he fought for humanity, not for the Dark Gods. You did not know that Lucius and you will never know.

And you did not want to.

Your broken part defeats you and you cling to his chest. In all the time you were on Diadem, he gave you so much. You could taste every part of the Imperium. From clothes and food to base entertainment.

You did not need to lie and get all this from different people. Only Lucius could give you everything. He asked for little. Yes, everything worked out well. You wanted to see the Imperium. And you saw it. And even more. You could have any pleasure you wanted. Except maybe freedom.

You gently wrap yourself around the man, putting into this gesture all the love that remained in your heart. Not noticing how the devil's eyes watch your slow decay. How in the depths of the doomed soul, sadness and shame, seemingly lost long ago, appear.

But being a slave to pleasure, he also cannot let these feelings go free. You two, like all slaves of Chaos, can only continue your torment, calling it happiness and blessing.

[pinkthrone445]

Will I ever know what it feels to hold you close?

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender :Fluff fluff fluff

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:You and Mel meet on a dating app, but due to a bug in the app, you match even though you live many miles apart.

Author's note: Special fic for @neverfindmegone ♥️ for her birthday!

I hope you like this, I wanted to make it the most special possible for you to make you feel as special as you made me feel last week for my birthday, but it was a little bit hard to capture your soul and heart in just a fic, thank you for everything you do for me. Happy birthday sweetheart and enjoy. Cherry!

You were staring at the giant mirror against the wall, your foot was tapping on the floor, your stomach felt like it wanted to come out of your mouth, you've never looked so beautiful and felt so nervous and decomposed at the same time. Your cell phone that was on the dresser rang warning that you had a notification, with trembling hands you took it and smiled when you saw who sent the message

-♠️ MyMissPoker ♥️: "Hello my love, I'm dying to see you, I miss you so much... I hope in a day like this you can feel how much I love you even when I'm not there"-Melissa had sent you a message that immediately calmed your nerves and you couldn't help but remember with happiness how you came to know each other years ago, through a first message like this...

You remembered how you got to talk to each other 5 years ago

You were having lunch at work when your cell phone vibrated with a notification, confused you grabbed your cell phone while the others were talking to each other.

"Miss Poker has sent you a message" the notification said

-MissPoker: "Hello, I love the pictures you have posted, you have talent, and those little poems were pure perfection"-The message read and you frowned. Not long ago, you had downloaded a dating app as your friends had insisted because it had been a while since you had dated anyone. You agreed to do it, but if they let you choose which app it would be. In the end you signed up for one that was very anonymous, the only thing you entered was some personal interests and some photos of things you liked next to a alias, you didn't enter your real name or photos of yourself, and the app showed you people with the same interest that were close by.

The truth is that you had signed up for that one because you thought that no one would talk to you with the photos you had posted, that's why you had been so surprised to receive a notification on your cell phone. It was true that you had uploaded some pictures of the things you painted in your spare time, but you never thought that anyone would like it.

You carefully opened the profile of the person who had spoken to you, in her photos you could see a dog, a photo of some books, another of a baseball field, some cooking pictures, a dance hall and some pictures of the moon.

Curious, you decided to open the messages and answer her

-Littlechef(you):"Thank you...nice pictures too, I'm guessing you like cooking?" - You asked softly laughing about the silly interaction

-MissPoker:"Yes, I looove cooking. You too? Or you have that name in honor or ratatouille?" - The woman answered and you laughed looking at your phone

-Littlechef:"I'm a chef actually..."-You replied a little nervously, not knowing why

-MissPoker:"Isn't the funny thing about this app the anonymous part?.. But since you told me what you do for a living I'll tell you what I do too, I'm an elementary school teacher, the best in the whole school" - The woman replied and you stared at the message for a few seconds

-Littlechef: "the funny thing about this is get to know each other without knowing how we look and let ourselves influence by it... How we will get to know each other if we don't talk about ourselves?" - You replied and she sent a laughing emoji

-MissPoker: "you got me there... I'm Melissa btw, nice to meet you" - she replied and you wondered if it would be right to give your name to a complete stranger, but it was what you first did when you met someone in person, so you thought it wouldn't hurt to do it here

-Littlechef: "I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you too" - You replied without having the slightest idea how important a complete stranger would become to you.

From that day forward the conversation began to flow, from casual conversations to deeper ones, and there was no longer a day when you didn't talk to her.

You also remembered those first feelings for her even if you denied at the moment

Her notifications made you let out that silly laugh every time, like a child does when he gets into some mischief. You were always checking your phone. Her notification brightened your day in a surprising way and made you happy how easy everything was with her, there was always a topic of conversation and she always knew what to say when you got quiet. She was amazing.

Just talking to her made you feel a warmth in your soul that you didn't really know how to handle, to be honest it scared you a little, you had been hurt before and you had sworn to avoid relationships at least for a while, but everything was so perfect that it was hard not to feel something for her even when you haven't seen her face yet. Her way of being was the perfect compliment for you.

You remembered the first time you saw how she was

One day you decided it was time to forget the anonymous part and put a face to the name, so you exchanged photos. You were really nervous about that, what if she thought you were ugly? You knew she was older and that didn't bother you, that even turn you on a little bit, but what if she wasn't what you expected?.. You were so nervous and scared for the unknown but at the same time so thrilled to finally see her... So you each send 3 pictures to each other.

If you had fallen in love with her personality, her face was something else and made you fall even more, she was perfection itself. For God's sake, what a beautiful woman, her hair with those soft curls, her beautiful smile, her eyes shining in a particular way that made you feel warmth and peace, and her sharp cheeks looked like they had been formed by an artist with a chisel. If we are the creation of a God, she was his masterpiece, pure perfection. And let's not talk about her body and the things it made you feel...

She told you repeatedly how beautiful you were too, but you felt like a worm every time you saw her pictures again. You were so lucky.

Also, after the photos, you exchanged numbers too and you immediately deleted the dating app. Your heart was already hers even if you didn't knew at that moment.

You also remembered your first sad moment together

One particular day, you shared a picture of a place where you were painting, you had finished work and went to a particular place you liked to eat something and paint a little. You and Mel had been talking about meeting in person, but that day everything changed and your hopes fade a little. When she asked what you were doing, you told her and decided to send a picture of the place and what you were creating . You never expect Mel's answer

-"You don't live in Phily?"-Her comment left you a little bit lost and confused. The app was supposed to connect you with people who were close to you, but something went wrong and somehow you and Mel were able to see each other's profile even though you lived veeery far away.

You had never thought about it, you had both assumed you lived nearby but you were wrong. That day you both wondered if it made sense to keep talking and making plans to meet each other if you lived so far away, but after much consideration, you decided to see where all this was going despite the distance and kept talking.

Thank goodness you decided to do it, because fate had big plans for you. Love knows no distances and would continue to grow until your heart and hers came together.

You also remembered the ways in which she was always present even when she was far away

You decided to call her, you were about to have a panic attack, your country wasn't very stable and your job was laying off people because it wasn't enough to pay everyone. Mel listened patiently to all your fears and worries

-"What if I'm next? One of my friends was laid off and she had been there longer than me. I really like this job and I don't want to lose it, Mel. I don't know if I have the good qualities to find another one. I'm really scared" - You commented to the redhead while you were crying, while it hurt her to see you like this, she wouldn't let you be sad for long and she wouldn't let you alone on this

-"Hey Hon... Breath please... Let's not get ahead of ourselves, you're an incredible worker, you do everything in that place, I've seen how many amazing things you do, you're worth a lot and I don't think you'll be taken out. And if they do, you'll get a job in no time, you've got incredible talent in the kitchen and doing so many other things, you've got a good time of experience and that helps for a new job, you'll do well and I will be here to help you... But again, let's focus on the present, you still have work, stay focused on that, nothing bad will happen, Okey?"-The redhead whispered, and you nodded a little more calmly when you heard her voice, even if it was on the phone.

In the end she was right, the layoffs stopped and you even got a raise. Like that occasion, she was helping you through every difficult moment.

You remember all the things she did to be present for you even on the distance

Mel figured out how to use her cards to deliver food or snacks you liked.

She also learned how to play some games that you showed her to play with you, it was very funny to hear her insult while you played war games against other people, you almost every time won at uno.

Sometimes you would make video calls and watch movies together even at a distance.

And every night she would call you and tell you things about her day until you fell asleep together.

Every step you took there was her holding your hand and encouraging you, helping you to become a better version of yourself.

You even introduced her to some of your friends via video call and she did the same, so you met Barbara, Janine and Jacob.

One day the two of you decided to formalize things when you noticed how the talks were no longer just a talk of friends, but of something more. Mel wasn't one to believe in long-distance relationships, but somehow everything was working out better than expected.

Time passed with countless calls, photos, videos, sexual calls, and many many messages and audios.

Every once in a while you would send her a package of things for her and she would buy you things too.

There were days when you missed her presence even when you'd never really had her around, she always said that she was right there with you, but that didn't made the distance easier. It's weird to explain, but you can miss someone you've never meet.

You remembered how after months of missing her, the two of you finally met for the first time

When your work and hers allowed it, you agreed to travel to the same place to meet in person, she traveled with Barbara and you with your best friend.

The first hug, that first hug was something that was etched in your memory. You waited for her at the airport because you got there first, when she finally saw you she dropped everything and hugs you so tightly, no a word was shared, but you remember how everything was said in silence. Her hands fit perfectly in the hollow of your back, your height fit perfectly with hers, her perfume was the richest thing you have ever smelled in your life and finally your heart felt at peace.

You spent a week together, having amazing sex, walking, cuddling, taking the opportunity to sleep and bathe together, creating memories and making plans for the future, you even stole a pair of shirts to take home and have her smell close.

That was the first of many trips, every time you had the opportunity you got together to see each other even for a few days.

Your soul craved her in a way that never happened before to you.

Back to the present

A sigh left your lips as you remembered all those things, thousands of things had happened in between those years, even some arguments, but everything was fixed and you stayed together through all. Remembering all of that, remembering how you are able to feel Mel's love in everything she did from day one, made you cry lost in your mind and memories, missing her and feeling sad for some reason.

The sound of a new notification took you out of your thoughts and with your trembling hands you wiped your tears a little and picked up your cell phone

-♠️ MyMissPoker ♥️: "Hey sweetheart, is everything okay?.."-Mel sent you the first message many minutes ago, but when you started to remind everything that had happened over the years, you had forgotten to answer her and she got worried

-You: "no... I miss you, I need you here, I don't want you to be far away specially in a day like this" - You answered and she immediately called you, as soon as you answered she could hear your soft sobs

-"Baby, what happened?" - The redhead asked very worriedly-"I'm here, why are you crying? Are you having second thoughts? Did I do something wrong?"-You sighed trying to calm your crying and be able to answer

-"you are perfect, but I need you, I need you to feel you close" - You whispered in a weak voice

-"I'll go there right now, I'm just a few blocks away and I'm mostly ready, wait for me" - Mel answered and you heard her take her keys and her sister screamed in the background for her to come back

-"But it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding" - You whispered

-"It's also bad luck that one of the brides is crying of sadness in their special day... Besides, we have been apart too much time already, God will understand..."-she joked and you sobbed and laughed at the same time

-"Your sister will kill you" - You whispered laughing when you heard the screams

-"We will figure something out, wait for me, I'm coming. I love you"-She responded quickly, and you heard her sister get in the car with her

-"I love you more" - You answered and waited for her to arrive. After a few minutes you felt a soft knock on the door and then Mel's sister came in with a blindfold for your eyes and another for the redhead, so you and Mel could be together without seeing each other and without the bad luck.

Seconds after putting on the blindfold you felt how arms hugged your waist, you immediately hugged her again hiding in her neck letting out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You could tell she was almost ready because her dress was pressed against you and her hair was up. You finally felt safe again

-"Thank you for coming...I missed you" - You whispered and held her tighter hiding as much as possible in the crook of her neck

-"I missed you too... For a second I got scared that you were having second thoughts... I love you so much, I'm sure you are gorgeous right now" - The redhead kissed your forehead and held you until you calmed down completely, even though you couldn't see her, she was filling all your senses and that was all you need it to feel better. After a few minutes she kissed you forehead again-"Ready?" - She asked and you nodded while still hugging her

-"Ready...I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together" - You whispered kissing her

-"I'll waiting for you" - She answered and you let her go to finish arranging the last details to be perfect on your most special day, your wedding and the beginning of a live together.

[hazzashouse]

a/n: my first time sharing my writing with anyone. It does feel a little vulnerable and out of my confront zone. Hope you like this short piece tho!

summary: one would think that Harry would be sad about the end of his tour yet there’s something that he is definitely looking forward to.

warnings: none, just fluff

You couldn’t be more excited for tonight. Dressed up in your outfit, that you had picked out last night, you were standing now in front of one of the mirrors in Harry’s dressing room. Occasionally you could hear the crowd cheering and singing One Direction songs as they were waiting for the show to begin. The last show of the tour.

At first it was challenging for your new relationship to compromise your life in London and Harry’s tour. You didn’t know how it was gonna be but Harry did everything he could on his end to make it work. He always does.

And it did work. Whenever you could, you joined him on the tour. Exploring the cities together and watching him on stage were one of your things to do. His talent and passion for music never failed to make you smile because there was nothing better than to see your loved ones doing things they love.

You were currently reminiscing about last night when both of you want on a walk around Rome that you didn’t see Harry entering the dressing room until you felt his arms sneaking around your waist.

“Hey,” you closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his cologne. Your body relaxed under the warm embrace of your boyfriend.

“Hey beautiful,” Harry turned his head so that he could kiss you on your temple. “You look stunning,” he gave you a gentle squeeze before he pulled away and taking your hand into his own, he made you do a little twirl. “Absolutely gorgeous,” his smile grew wider when he saw that his compliments made your cheeks turn pinkish. He loved seeing you like this, especially if he was the cause of those pink tones showing up on your face.

He was just about to cup your cheeks to give you a proper kiss but you grabbed his wrists trying to stop him from doing that. “Shouldn’t you be going on stage in a few?”

Harry chuckled and proceeded with getting closer to you. “Maybe,” his voice was lower at that point as his lips were now closer to yours. “But I still have a few seconds to give my girlfriend a kiss,” your lips touched briefly, “or two,” he kissed you once again but this time he didn’t hold back. Gently taking his wrists out of your grasp, Harry placed his hands on your waist, tugging you by the belt loops so your body was now pressed against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as your fingers weaved into his hair.

When both of you felt out of breath, Harry rested his forehead against yours. “I wanna take you out tomorrow” he said making you frown a bit in question.

“Haven’t we already agreed on going out?” You asked, you fingers still gently tracing circles on the back of his neck.

“Yes, we have,” Harry pecked your lips before pulling away to look into your eyes. “But I want to take you out on a proper date. I want to buy you flowers, pick you up from your hotel room and take you to the best Italian restaurant. I want to kiss you whenever I want to and take you out on a walk under the starry sky,” he started painting this beautiful picture in your head, making the corner of your lips lift. Harry was not only a gentleman but he was an incredible romantic guy, you loved it about him. “So? Would you make me the happiest man on earth and agree to go on a date with me?”

It didn’t take long for you to nod your head. “Of course,” you said and in a second Harry picked you up as he couldn’t contain his happiness. The truth was that Harry had been planing this day for a few weeks now. As much as he was sad about performing his last concert of this tour, he couldn’t wait to have more time to spend with you.

Part 2 coming soon

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 4

Part 4

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader with a side story of modern!Sigtryggr x reader

Authors note: it's probably a bad idea to post it today, but fuck it ... I'm having too much fun writing this. And don't tell me I didn't warn you - it's gonna be a ride 😅.

Warnings: heartbreak, use of alcohol, very suggestive (lowkey smut)

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word Count: 4,1 K

The whispers started small—a passing comment from a mutual acquaintance here, a vague mention in the industry gossip there. Gisela had done her best to shield you, brushing off any mention of Sihtric with a casual dismissal, redirecting your attention to new projects, exciting events, or people who would, in her words, "help you look forward, not back."

But eventually, the whispers grew louder, impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t been looking for updates on Sihtric, but it was almost as though the universe itself had decided that you wouldn’t be able to escape his shadow. It started with a model at a shoot, casually mentioning that she’d seen him out one night, barely able to stand, clinging to the arm of someone you didn’t know. The words "worse than I’ve ever seen him" lingered, simmering in your mind.

At first, you ignored it. Sihtric wasn’t your concern anymore, you reminded yourself. He had made his choices, just as you had made yours. But more stories came—different people, different places, each one painting the same picture of a man who was unravelling, barely holding himself together. The Sihtric they described was a stranger to you, and yet those stories struck a painful chord deep in your chest.

One evening, as you sat across from Gisela at your favourite café, her attempts to distract you from the topic finally fell short. You’d reached your limit.

"Gisela," you said, interrupting her as she rambled on about an upcoming exhibition. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Her eyes widened, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "Tell you what?" she asked, feigning innocence, though you both knew exactly what you meant.

"About Sihtric." Your voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension. "About what’s happening to him."

She sighed, placing her cup down with a slight clunk. “I didn’t think it was something you needed to hear. He’s not your responsibility anymore. You deserve to live your life without his shadow looming over you.”

"But he wasn’t always like this," you replied, voice barely more than a whisper. "I know him, Gisela. Or I thought I did."

Gisela reached across the table, her hand finding yours. "You did know him. But that’s not who he is now. Whatever he’s become, it’s because of his own choices."

“Gisela,” you said, setting down your coffee and looking her in the eye. “Do you think… Maybe my refusal to speak with him made things worse?”

Her brow furrowed, concern and frustration blending in her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“All these stories about him… spiralling,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “He just wanted to talk, you know. And I just showed him away in the worst way possible. I can’t help but feel that maybe, if I’d just been willing to listen to him, he wouldn’t have ended up this way.”

Gisela shook her head, her expression firm. “You can’t think like that. You have every right to protect yourself. Talking to him wouldn’t have changed anything. He’s responsible for his actions, not you.”

You glanced away. “But our last conversation, Gisela. I can’t stop thinking about it. The way I turned him away, how angry and cold I was. Maybe I was… too harsh.”

“You weren’t harsh,” she replied, squeezing your hand. “You were clear about your boundaries. You have every right to those, especially after what he put you through. Don’t start blaming yourself.”

Despite her reassurance, the memory of that day lingered in your mind like a shadow. That look in his eyes, the desperation just beneath the surface, how he had struggled to find the words. And how you had shut him down, leaving him standing alone on that set, without a chance to explain himself. It had felt empowering then, taking control of the situation, reclaiming your peace. But now… now, you weren’t so sure.

“Maybe,” you whispered, almost to yourself, “I should’ve just listened, if only to give us both some closure.”

Gisela’s gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. “Closure doesn’t come from reopening wounds, and that’s all he’d do. He’s gone too far down this path—he’s not the person you knew.” 

Gisela squeezed your hand. “You have every right to protect yourself. You don’t owe him anything—not after what he put you through. He’s doing this to himself, and I don’t want to see you dragged down because of him again.”

You didn’t answer. Wrapping your hands around the warm coffee cup, you stared into the swirling steam rising from the dark liquid. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated? 

That night, alone in your apartment, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Every time you closed your eyes, fragments of that last encounter on set replayed in your mind: Sihtric’s hesitant steps, the way his voice had cracked when he’d asked to talk, the look of devastation as you’d turned your back on him. You’d told yourself it was for the best, but was it really?

You picked up your phone, fingers hovering over the screen.

Before you could think it through, you sent a message to Gisela.

"Do you think I should try talking to him? Just once?"

The three dots indicating her reply popped up immediately, and then her response followed, firm and direct.

"No. That chapter is over. Don’t reopen old wounds."

You put the phone down, staring at the empty space in your living room as her words echoed in your mind. Gisela was right, of course. She had been there through it all, had seen you at your lowest, helped you pick up the pieces of your life, reminding you of who you were outside of him. But this wasn’t about reopening wounds. This was about understanding. For your sake, and for his.

With a steadying breath, you made a quiet decision. Tomorrow, you would reach out, you would go to the set and talk to him—not to rekindle what was lost but to speak out, to lay the ghosts of your past to rest. Maybe it would bring peace to both of you, to let you finally close the chapter for good. 

You arrived at the set the next morning with that quiet resolve still fresh on your mind, the familiar hum of voices and equipment doing little to settle your nerves. Today, you would finally speak to Sihtric. 

Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, and maybe it would leave you feeling just as hollow as before, but at the very least, it might ease the nagging feeling that had taken root since your last conversation. There was no script in your mind, no clear sense of what you would say. Just a need for… something. Resolution, maybe. Closure. Or perhaps, deep down, a glimmer of hope. What? No, shut up! You almost slapped yourself in anger. What hope?

As you waited, you glanced at the door every few minutes, each time your heart skipping a beat, only to settle back down when he didn’t appear. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one adding another layer to the knot forming in your stomach. 

You had run through a dozen different ways to start the conversation in your mind, but none of them felt right. How do you confront someone you’d once loved but had shut out entirely? What could you even say that would bridge the distance between you after everything that had happened?

You clenched and unclenched your hands, feeling more foolish with each passing minute. A part of you cursed yourself for not following Gisela’s advice, for not simply letting it go. “Leave it in the past,” she’d said, her voice filled with quiet insistence. And yet, here you were, waiting for a man who’d hurt you, hoping he’d arrive so you could dig into the buried pain between you both.

What was it you expected to hear? A confession, an apology, an explanation? The truth was, you didn’t know. You just felt as though you couldn’t move on with this weight still hanging over you, with the sense that you had played some part in his downward spiral. Was it really closure you were looking for, or did some part of you, a part you’d never admit aloud, still care for him, still believe there was something worth salvaging?

The chatter of the crew buzzed around you, but you barely registered it. Occasionally, you caught snippets of conversation—small whispers about Sihtric, talk of his “new habits” and frequent no-shows. The makeup artist mumbled something under her breath about his inconsistency, a sigh of exasperation barely audible. 

You stayed, doing your best to keep a composed front, pretending to focus on the tasks in front of you. But beneath the calm façade, a familiar ache simmered—a sinking disappointment, perhaps even a touch of anger, that he hadn’t shown up. You tried to tell yourself it was about professionalism, about the wasted time, the disrupted shoot, but deep down, you knew it actually wasn’t. You’d finally been ready to talk, to face the unresolved tension between you, and Sihtric had left you waiting, his absence a silent answer in itself.

As the hours stretched on and the last hopes of his arrival slipped away, the emptiness grew. The loss felt oddly profound, a quiet ache that lingered, as though something vital had slipped through your fingers, even if you couldn’t name what it was.

—--------------------------------------------

Just as you finished slipping on your heels and checking your reflection one last time, a soft knock echoed from the door. You opened it to find Sigtryggr standing there, a calm, admiring smile spreading across his face as he took in your appearance. His suit was impeccably tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his tall, lean frame, and his long hair was pulled back in a way that softened his strong features.

“Wow,” he said, his voice warm as his eyes lingered on you. “You look… incredible. Absolutely stunning.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you glanced down, a little flustered by the way he looked at you. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, and his fingers were warm and steady around yours. As you turned to grab your purse, he tilted his head slightly, studying you with gentle curiosity.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “You seem a bit… distracted.”

You took a breath, glancing at him before looking away, feeling the weight of the day’s thoughts pressing down on you. “I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt weak even to your own ears. “It’s just… been a long day.”

Sigtryggr’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering as he searched your face. “If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here. No pressure—just… if you want.”

You felt a warm reassurance in his words, his genuine concern like a balm to your lingering unease. You managed a small smile, grateful for his presence. “Thank you. Really. I… I appreciate it.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “No need to thank me,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Tonight’s about enjoying ourselves. Let’s make it a good one.”

You slipped your arm through his and offered him a small smile, feeling a comforting sense of calm settle over you. Sigtryggr’s quiet confidence grounded you, his warm presence lifting your spirits just enough to face the fashion show you’d agreed to attend with him.

The venue buzzed with energy, lights flashing as photographers captured the evening’s best-dressed attendees. You and Sigtryggr moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with designers, editors, and models. 

The night felt almost surreal, as if you were floating through it, your worries temporarily forgotten as you lost yourself in the glamorous whirlwind of conversation and clinking champagne glasses. But then you spotted him.

Across the room, Sihtric was leaning against the bar, a glass dangling from his hand, his face flushed and his eyes somewhat unfocused. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair dishevelled, and his grip on the camera strap on his shoulder was loose, like he had already forgotten that he even had it. 

You froze as he caught sight of you, his gaze narrowing before flickering over to Sigtryggr. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then he began making his way toward you, his movements slightly unsteady.

“Is that him?” Sigtryggr asked, catching your tension. His tone was gentle but alert.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away as Sihtric approached, his expression dark and unreadable. The familiar ache twisted in your chest, but you straightened, bracing yourself for whatever he was about to say or do.

“So,” Sihtric sneered as he stopped before you, eyes flicking dismissively between you and Sigtryggr. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” His voice was laced with bitterness, words slurring slightly as he swayed on his feet.

“Sihtric, don’t do this,” you said softly, hoping to defuse the situation, but he ignored you, his focus shifting fully to Sigtryggr.

“And you…” He tilted his head, eyeing Sigtryggr with disdain. “Think you’re so much better than me, huh? Perfect little prince, sweeping in and saving the day.”

Sigtryggr’s face remained calm, though you could feel the tension in him. “I think it’s best if we all take a step back,” he replied evenly, his hand settling on your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “This isn’t the time or place.”

But Sihtric’s eyes flashed, his face twisting into a sneer. “You think you can just step in like I never meant anything?” His voice grew louder, heads turning as people began to notice the unfolding scene. “She was mine, you know. You’re just a cheap replacement.”

You felt Sigtryggr’s hand tense, but he kept his composure. “You’re drunk, Sihtric,” he said quietly. “Go home. Let’s not make this uglier than it needs to be.”

But Sihtric’s face hardened, his expression an unsettling mix of pain and fury. Before either of you could react, he lunged forward, his fist aimed clumsily at Sigtryggr’s face. His movements were sluggish, heavy with the effects of alcohol, and Sigtryggr sidestepped effortlessly, catching Sihtric’s arm and stopping him in his tracks.

“Enough.” Sigtryggr’s voice was firm, his grip on Sihtric’s arm steady as he pushed him back, keeping his own emotions in check. “Go home. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

The words struck Sihtric like a slap. He staggered, his face flushing with humiliation as he looked between the two of you. For a fleeting moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his anger—the brokenness and regret lurking behind his bloodshot eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered bitterly, wrenching his arm out of Sigtryggr’s grip. His gaze lingered on you, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. “Enjoy your perfect life,” he spat, his voice cracking slightly as he turned and stumbled away, nearly knocking into a nearby table on his way out.

The crowd, still buzzing with curiosity, watched him go, a hush settling over the room as people exchanged whispers and glances. You stood there, heart pounding, torn between anger, pity, and an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

“Are you alright?” Sigtryggr asked, his voice steady, his hand gentle on your shoulder as he guided you toward a quieter corner, away from the prying eyes.

You shook your head, you were far from being alright. Sihtric’s words, his reckless behaviour, the way he’d looked at you—it was like seeing a stranger in the shell of someone you once knew. The man who had stood beside you tonight was unrecognisable, and yet, the guilt still clawed at you, lingering in the pit of your stomach.

Sigtryggr’s arm slipped around you, as he led you toward the exit. “Let’s get you out of here,” he murmured, his tone soft and protective. 

You nodded, grateful for his presence  and the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Sigtryggr’s hand lingering at the small of your back, guiding you with an ease that felt natural. 

He turned to you with a soft smile. “It’s still early,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over your face. “Would you like to come to my place for a nightcap?”

As Sigtryggr's question hung in the air, a shiver coursed through you, both from the chill of the night and the deeper question his invitation held. His face, framed by the soft glow of nearby streetlights, showed only openness, yet your mind raced. 

Your heart quickened, battling with the silent questions tumbling in your mind. What did you want this to be? Sigtryggr was unlike anyone you’d ever met—a quiet intensity wrapped in kindness, the kind of person who saw straight through you, not as if judging, but as if he truly understood. A part of you had been starving for this kind of connection, so different from what you’d known before, but was it too soon? Could you let yourself open up to someone again, let him see the parts of you you’d worked so hard to piece back together?

And then, a thought cut through the haze, sharper, clearer: What would Sihtric think if he saw you now? A pang of anger flared beneath your skin, surprising you. Why should it matter? Even more so—why would he care? But the questions lingered, twisting like thorns in your mind. Why did he keep finding his way into your thoughts, haunting you with his absence, even though he was gone from your life for good?

Admitting it hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. He was gone. The reality pressed down like a weight you’d been struggling to lift. This was the perfect moment to close that door, to step into something new, to let someone else in… Or, you could keep waiting, letting the ghost of him drift around you, keeping everyone else at arm’s length, forever just out of reach.

With a soft, steadying breath, you looked back at Sigtryggr and found him still there, watching with a quiet patience, not pressing or urging, but simply waiting. His expression held nothing but warmth, a silent invitation in his eyes that felt as gentle as it was genuine. His presence was calming, without expectation, without judgement. In that instant, the idea of stepping forward didn’t seem so daunting.

Your heart lifted, and you found yourself nodding, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his gaze. “I’d like that.”

—--------------------------------------

Sigtryggr’s apartment was just as you’d expected—filled with art and an understated elegance that spoke to his style. Soft lights cast a warm glow over the room, and as he poured two glasses of wine, you took in the paintings lining the walls, the sketches scattered across his workspace, small glimpses into his creative world.

He handed you a glass, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a shiver up your spine. You took a sip, the wine rich and velvety, warming you from the inside. You could feel his gaze on you, intense yet tender, and when you looked up, the air between you grew charged, a subtle current building with each passing second.

“You know,” he began softly, stepping closer, “I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked tonight. Or… how beautiful you look now.”

His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering, fingers grazing your cheek. You felt your breath hitch, the gentle way he was looking at you sparking something within. Without overthinking, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Sigtryggr responded instantly, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, his mouth warm and inviting. The wine glass slipped from your hand onto the table as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You melted into him, the heat between you building, his kisses growing hungrier, more insistent.

He led you toward the bedroom, his hands never leaving you, each touch filled with gentle urgency. When you reached the bed, he paused, his eyes searching yours, as if asking for permission, making sure this was what you wanted.

You answered by pulling him down to you, and he responded with a low, pleased hum, his mouth trailing down your neck as his hands found the zipper of your dress, sliding it down slowly, his fingers grazing your bare skin, igniting every nerve.

Clothes were shed, piece by piece, until you were both exposed, bodies pressed together, skin to skin. His touch was tender yet commanding, guiding you with an instinctive rhythm that left you breathless, each kiss and caress drawing you further into the heat of the moment.

Every brush of his fingers felt like fire, igniting sparks across your skin. His hands traced a path over you with a careful, reverent touch, as though he was discovering you piece by piece, memorising every curve and every reaction. His breath mingled with yours, soft and warm, as his lips explored places you hadn’t even known craved attention, gentle but unyielding.

You arched your back against the mattress and moaned loudly as he thrusted into you. Your fingers wove into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded, his mouth tracing a path along your jaw, down your neck, igniting a trail that left you gasping, clutching him as though he were an anchor in a sea of sensation that you thought almost forgotten.

Sigtryggr moved within you with a steady, skillful rhythm, each thrust deliberate yet intense, his gaze locked on yours, simmering with a passion that left you utterly breathless. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, a loud moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you, erasing any lingering hesitation or self-consciousness. Whatever doubt or embarrassment you’d felt about revealing how touch-starved you were melted away, replaced by a powerful wave of heat and sensation that overwhelmed every thought, leaving you lost in the intoxicating bliss he brought with each movement.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his hands roaming over your body, igniting every nerve he touched. His touch was confident, demanding mixed with softness and careful attentiveness, his focus solely on you, on every little reaction he coaxed from you.

The pleasure inside you coiled tightly, building with each movement, each shared breath, and the way breathless moans spilled from your lips only seemed to spur him on. He responded with a low groan, his pace quickening as he drove you both toward the edge, his presence grounding you even as he unravelled you entirely.

When the two of you finally lay together in the quiet aftermath, limbs entwined, Sigtryggr pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his hand tracing soothing patterns along your skin. The silence between you was comfortable, his warmth enveloping you as you nestled into him, feeling safe and content in his embrace. Your breathing slowed, each gentle stroke of his hand pulling you closer to sleep. 

But as your eyes grew heavy, a familiar image intruded—a vision of Sihtric, broken and desperate, his face etched with the same raw pain and bitterness you'd seen at the event. His haunted eyes, full of anger and longing, stared back at you, and his words echoed in your mind, refusing to fade: “She was mine.”

—-----------------------------------------

Morning light filtered softly through the blinds, and you blinked awake, stretching slightly before noticing Sigtryggr’s arm still draped around you, his peaceful face turned toward yours. A small smile tugged at your lips as you remembered the night before, and you let yourself relax, sinking back into the moment. But just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock jolted you both out of the haze.

The door swung open, and a woman’s voice called out, her tone full of urgency and familiarity, sending a chill through you. “Sigtryggr?”

You froze, exchanging a startled look with Sigtryggr, who looked just as caught off guard. She called his name again, her footsteps growing closer as she moved through the apartment and toward the bedroom. Your gaze flew to Sigtryggr, wide-eyed with surprise, but before either of you could speak, a young woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes landing on you in bed with him.

With a yelp, you instinctively wrapped the blanket around yourself, heart racing as the reality of the situation hit you.

“Stiorra,” Sigtryggr started, his tone a mix of apology and guardedness as he sat up, tugging at the blanket to cover himself too.

[nightlyrequiem]

Latrodectus

II. Fragmented

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

================================================

Valeria learned to adapt, like any good animal. She mastered the art of mimicry, and her peers were none the wiser. She studied their faces and mannerisms and copied them to perfection. In hindsight it was pointless. Once puberty hit and she grew into her face and body nobody cared that there was something just a little off about her. Being pretty and physically developed meant she could get away with a lot more. No longer would she be shunned for her off putting ways. In fact, it just made her all the more desirable to her hormonal male peers. Their attention was wasted on Valeria, who spent most of her time chasing girls she found 'special.' Marie Sanchez turned out to be very unremarkable. Not as deity-like as Valeria thought she was. Then came Elle Minote, with her honey blonde hair and mousy round face. Her good looks rivaled Valeria's and she quickly swooped in to claim her. Crowning herself as Elle's best friend. 

Even before their friendship fell apart, Valeria's treatment of Elle was far from appropriate. She smothered her. Elle wasn't allowed to hang out with other people when Valeria was not pleasant. Elle wasn't allowed to have other friends. If she refused to stop hanging around them Valeria would throw guilt-tripping fits. Valeria would harshly criticize any boy Elle showed interest in. Making her feel foolish for even considering going out with him, why would Elle want a boy like that? She's far too pretty and likeable for someone about as interesting as a cheap handbag. Elle couldn't handle the overbearing weight of being Valeria's object of affection, though. She drifted away and found herself a boyfriend. Heartbroken and furious, Valeria vowed to ruin every relationship Elle ever got. It's not like she had any issues doing so. Boys are simple creatures after all.

You didn't eat the sandwich. Valeria stares at you with disappointment and you glower right back at her from the corner. Your skin is looking dull. Probably from the lack of nutrients and sunlight.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Valeria asks sharply. Why does she even bother with carefully handmaking your food if you're going to be so unappreciative?

"Why am I being so difficult?" You repeat. Voice hard with anger. "Gee, I don't know, maybe it's because you kidnapped me and locked me in a fucking cell!" Your hands grip your iron chain tightly.

"A cell?" Valeria scoffs incredulously. How dare you call this a cell. It's clean. You have a nice, soft bed with blankets. It's far more luxurious than any prisoner would get. She storms up to you and grabs your face. "You are so incredibly ungrateful." She whispers dangerously. Dilated eyes locked onto yours. 

You were an artist. In the background of one of your pictures, barely in frame, was a half-painted canvas. It took her a while of staring at the photo to realise you were painting a lamb. After some digging, she found out you did commissions. You didn't make a whole lot off of those though so to make ends meet you worked at a bar. Wasting your talents and life away serving up elaborate cocktails for ungracious patrons. Valeria became a regular. The bar was subpar and hardly worth the money she spent there but with you behind the chipping counter, illuminated by the sickly glow of the old hanging lights, she could spare a few pesos.

Her blood pressure would spike every time a male patron would flirt. She seethed even more whenever you'd giggle or smile at whatever stupid remark they'd make. You were only doing it to get tipped, Valeria knew that, but it still angered her to no level. No man was deserving of you. They would never be able to appreciate all your little intricacies. Not in the way a woman could. Not in the way she could. She had to walk out one night when you were laughing a little too hard at something one of your coworkers had said. She crouched in the alley behind the bar, stiff with hatred, fingers clutched in her hair. She hated him and she hated you.

Your nails bite into the skin of her wrist. Valeria shakes her arm harshly before grabbing your wrist and wrenching your hand away. Your nails scrape against her flesh as they're moved away. Leaving thin raised lines in their wake.

"I could show you what a cell really looks like." She growls. "I could leave you in a cold, dark, damp room. No bed, no toilet, maybe I should let you starve too." Valeria feels hurt that you are comparing your room to a cell. You're throwing her hospitality back into her face. She's doing her best with a shitty situation. She sees the fear coursing through you. The way your brows twitch down and the way your breathing hitches.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask. Your voice breaks, a warning that you're going to start crying. "... Is it sex you want?" Valeria releases your face. She has to take a step back to stop herself from slapping you. She already explained everything to you. Are you stupid?

"No." She snaps. Glaring at you. "I already told you why I'm doing this."

"You don't love me, don't stand there and try to convince me you do." You hiss. You press close to the wall.

Valeria is appalled by your words. She hates it when people try to claim to know what she feels. They could never begin to understand her feelings. Not even her parents could begin to understand it. The violent screaming and crying fits followed up by weeks of numbness. Valeria loves you so much that she didn't give up after you turned her down. She has so many plans for your life together. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Those plans won't ever come true if she kills you.

"I know this is scary and that you don't understand," She explains slowly. "but I am doing what's best for you." And, what's best for her. She can't function like she needs to when she's constantly on the verge of snapping. All because the woman she wants isn't hers.

You aren't receptive to her words at all. You put your face in your hands. Your body is so tense that she can see a slight quiver in your shoulder.

"Let me OUT!" You screech. You throw your back against the wall and scream. Hands sliding up your face and into your hair. "Let me go you fucking PSYCHO!" You claw at your own arms and hyperventilate. Valeria watches silently. She knows you'll scream your vocal cords raw for the next few hours then curl up in your bed, unmoving for the next few weeks. Your behavior is repetitive and resonates with Valeria in a way that nothing else ever could. She sees herself in your rage. In the intense anger you direct onto yourself. She turns and walks out of the room.

Your screeching stops being audible at the top of the stairs. She locks the basement door and walks into the living room and sits down on her expensive dark grey couch. Her back aches in protest. She didn't realise how sore it was until now. She leans back with a sigh. Silence rings loudly in her ears as she thinks. You've been here for a month now, yet you aren't warming up to her at all. Perhaps it's the lack of stimuli. Animals kept in captivity develop zoochosis when under stimulated. Her gaze shifts to the painting she hung above the mantel. The beady eyes of a lamb stare unfeelingly back at her. She taps her fingers on her knee. She commissioned that one from you. 

You're frustrated and need an outlet. Valeria understands that now. With you being so deprived of anything you enjoyed pre-capture you'll probably jump at the opportunity to do anything other than stare at the depressing stone walls of your room. Painting is a good way to relieve stress and it's also a good way to bond. The sun shines through the window. Warming the little lamb. Highlighting the delicate paint strokes. She imagines how you must've looked while painting it. An engrossed look on your face as you twist your wrist in a delicate arch to capture the soft woolly curls.

When she was in primary school, Valeria would eat alone at lunch. Kneeling in the itchy grass beneath a large tree. The grass would leave indents on her calves and thighs. She had to come up with ways to entertain herself. She would read, play with bugs, tear strips of bark from the tree that shaded her. For her twelfth birthday her mother bought her a small, coiled notebook. It was pink and had bees on it. The best part was that she didn't have to use it for school. She filled the lined pages with drawings. Some of her favourite memories are of her sketching away at lunch, tuning out the joyful noises of her classmates. She knows how good art can be for the soul.

She browses through the paint section at a small craft store and wonders if she should get you your own sketchbook. The thought is tempting, but she'd have to give you something to draw with and she's unsure if she wants to provide any potential weapons. The paintbrushes she's getting you is risky enough. Her eyes scan over the coloured tubes of acrylic. Each one fighting for her attention. The whole store smells faintly woody. It's a little disorienting. She grabs twelve colours. The basic ones as well as a few different shades. She grabs some canvases too and walks to the front to pay. The little old lady at the front gives her a judgmental look. Valeria doesn't break eye contact as she hands over the cash.

Back home, she sets down the art supplies on the dining room table. She spreads them out and inspects them. The paints, the canvases, the brushes. She can feel her own creative spark flaring up at the sight. She puts all of it back into their respective bags and carries them over to the basement. She sets them down by the door and continues further down the hall. She walks into her bedroom. The room is tidy and free of dust. The queen bed with its light pink sheets is made, the pillows arranged against the headboard with care and precision. The day is on the hotter end, and she's sweated through her shirt. Jeans and a black long sleave clearly weren't the way to go. She digs through her wardrobe and settles on a comfortable pair of black cotton shorts and a t-shirt made of a thinner material. She gives her reflection a quick check, admiring the tattoos visible on her arms. She quickly combs her fingers through her hair then walks back out.

She picks up the bags and walks down the stairs. She reaches your door and presses an ear against the wood. There's no screaming or crying. She unlocks your door and peers inside. The light is off, but your shape beneath the covers is slightly visible from the light behind her.  You don't so much as shift when Valeria steps inside and turns on the light. She spots a few red droplets over in the corner. She's worried for a second that you did something to yourself, so she sets down the bags and speeds over to you. She grabs the edge of your blanket and yanks it down. There are a few red scratches on your forearm already beginning to scab. She relaxes when she realises it's nothing serious. She will need to cut your nails though. 

Valeria looms over you as she softly calls your name. Trying to coax you into sitting up. Despite your eyes being closed she knows you aren't sleeping.

"Hey." She murmurs. Grabbing your shoulder and giving it a small shake. "I know you're awake. Come see what I got for you." For a few seconds you remain still. The prospect of receiving something intrigues you enough to open your eyes though. Valeria respectfully steps back and watches you sluggishly rise up. You focus your blank gaze on her and then to the bags behind her. Valeria turns and drags them towards you. Setting them beside the bed. She walks back and sits down on the ground. The cement in cool and pleasant against her bare skin. You lean over the edge of your mattress and look through the first bag. Fingers grasp the rough material of a canvas, and you pull it out.

Valeria stares at you intently. Trying to discern what you're feeling. She feels frustrated at the lack of reaction. You hold the blank canvas in your lap and simply stare at it. Valeria decides it's because you're picturing what you could paint. You set it down to the side and to Valeria's pleasure, continue to look through her gifts. You take your time looking at the other canvases and all of the paints. At the sight of the brushes, you seem to perk up. She bought you ten, wanting to give you a little variety. You hold the largest brush and turn it over. Inspecting it at every angle. You softly trail a finger down the wooden handle. Raising your head, you lock eyes with Valeria.

"I know you liked to paint." Valeria says calmly. You look cute like this. You're not baring your teeth in a gleeful grin but Valeria can still tell you're happy and for that she feels smug. A month without anything for entertainment means anything new will seem far more interesting than it normally would.

You look back down at the paintbrush and Valeria takes the opportunity to approach. She shuffles over and rests an elbow on your bed. You look back at her and she gazes at you. Feeling awed by the sight of you. She has you within her grasp.

"I did." You murmur. Eyes glazing over as you retreat into your head. "I was - am - good at painting." You tell her. 

"I'll go get a cup of water; we can paint something now if you want." She says. Hoping you can't hear the satisfaction in her voice. You nod. Features soft for the first time since she took you. Valeria smiles and gets up, leaving your room. She doesn't bother locking the door. She won't be long.

Valeria hurries back down to you. Spilling some of the water on the stairs in her haste. You're sat on the floor with your paints spread out around you. Valeria realises that she forgot a palette. You don't seem to care though. You're hunched over a canvas. Dipping one of the brushes into a small splotch of green you just squirted onto the cement floor. Valeria feels the need to grab a rag and wipe it off, but she can't do it when you're finally starting to warm up to her. Valeria sits down across from you and places down the water cup between you two. Eight brushes sit off to the side and Valeria grabs one and a canvas. Starting her own painting.

Her eyes periodically shift back up to you. You're so focused that you don't take notice. Valeria is glad. She doesn't normally feel embarrassed but there's something vulnerable about painting the woman she loves. She does her best to mix colours to perfection. She remembers the detail and texture you created for the lamb painting. She tries to imitate it. To give your skin and hair life.

"Hey... Valeria?" You speak. She looks up again and stares. "... I need your opinion on something, could you come here and look at this?" Valeria sets down her canvas and moves towards you. Twisting awkwardly to look at your painting. It's a beautiful, lush landscape. She can see the brushes in her peripheral. She can hear your slightly fast breathing.

"I was wondering if I should add a cabin." She glances at the brushes again. Seven lined up side by side. She furrows her brows.  

"Um... Yeah a cabin would look nice." There should be eight.

The first time Valeria was ever stabbed was during an offence mission. She was cornered by an enemy. The feeling of his steel blade passing through the flesh and tendons of her hand didn't hurt as much as she imagined it would. It didn't hurt much at all. It just felt cold. Maybe because of the adrenaline rushing through her at the time. The rattling of your chain is the only warning she gets before the jagged edges of broken paintbrush pierce through her arm. You were quick but Valeria was quicker. Had she not blocked your attack you would've stabbed her in the side of the neck. 

The wood drags against her skin, leaving slivers as you pull it out to stab at her again. Valeria roughly grabs your arm and wrestles you into submission. You struggle and cry. Writhing beneath her. She squeezes your wrist until you're forced to let go of the paintbrush. Red runs down her arm. Dotting your painting with little red puddles. Valeria's movements are fluid and smooth as she wraps her hands around your throat. You wheeze and feebly try to fight back but Valeria only tightens her grip. Valeria feels betrayed and hurt. You attacked her, after she tried to do something nice for you, you attacked her. You start going still when she suddenly releases your throat. She glares down at you as you pant and cough. Her heart is hammering. Valeria needs to leave before she kills you. She aggressively grabs the paintbrushes and storms out of the basement. Locking the door behind her. She's given you too many chances. You're starting to run out.

[sehtoast]

No Time Like the Present [For a Present] - (parentified!OC, Ryan Butcher)

mild s4e7 spoilers, ben gives ryan a present, ben being the cool parent, ben x homelander, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

It’s a soft, breathy laugh that gives him away.

Ryan whirls around, picture frame held tight to his chest.  He’s like a child protecting a toy he knows he shouldn’t have.

“Relax, buddy.”  Ben says with a sympathetic smile.  “I ain’t gonna take it from you.”

“I don’t–”

“And I’m not gonna tell your dad either.  I’m not the Grinch, y’know.”

It’s a Christmas miracle in and of itself to see the boy’s eyes light up and a joyful grin settle into place.  A real smile, not the ones he fakes for cameras these days.

Ben reaches out and ruffles Ryan’s hair.  “He’s out anyway.  Lemme see ‘em?”  

Ryan tilts the frame his way and he takes in the full sight.  Butcher, before becoming, well… Butcher, and Becca.  His heart tugs at the sight of her, remembering the times they’d spoken.  Back when he would help Ryan with his physics homework at the kitchen table while Homelander pouted over getting less of the boy’s attention.  Ben always felt so terrible for how on edge Becca was around Homelander, but somehow she never seemed to hold it against the bug for being involved with him. Kind, caring, genuine…  

Just like her son.

“You’re a good kid, y’know that?”  Ben murmurs.  His eyes sting and he looks up to find Ryan’s lined with tears as well.

For as much as the world has tried to rip it out of his chest, Ryan’s heart was practically made of sunshine.  Ben’s already sworn up and down to whatever cosmic forces may be that he’ll preserve that light in the dark as best he can.

He sniffles and swats at his own fallen tears.  “Man, Christmas is somethin’ else.  I got one for you too.”  He scans the mountain of gift boxes and fan packages, shooting a web at one in particular wrapped as if someone gave tape and paper to a jackass who’d never wrapped a present a day in his life.  “Sorry about the outside.  The day I figure out wrapping paper is probably the day the planet explodes.”  He gestures for Ryan to sit, then hands it off.

As soon as he lifts the flaps on the box, Ryan goes silent.

Benjamin just waits while he processes it.  It was no easy feat, and finding someone talented enough to both sculpt and paint it perfectly without anything more than a few satellite images and classified Vought records had been… well.  The look on his face is all the bug needs to know it was worth it.

Ryan lifts it out and sets it on his lap, fingers running over the edge of the roof.  He seems almost baffled at the intricacy of detail, right down to the mailbox at the edge of the lawn.  “S’my old house…”  He murmurs, thumbing gently over the front door step.  “I almost forgot what it looked like.”

“Mm, well we can’t have you doing that.”  The bug’s voice cracks with emotion.  “I just– I figured you still do your legos and you could, y’know…”

By the time Ben’s gaze rises, Ryan’s already thrown himself into a hug, squeezing so tight the bug practically can’t breathe.  Except he can, because he’s learned how to weather those embraces.  It’s the same way Homelander hugs him when it’s all too much or when he needs a rock to cling to lest he become a castaway in his own sea of miseries.

“Sorry,” the boy mumbles as he pulls back.  The shame on his face is the worst part.  Watching him apologize every time he forgets his strength, becoming stronger with every passing day while the world remains unchanged, has been nothing short of heart wrenching.  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Get back in here.” With a huffed laugh and a roll of his eyes, Ben pulls Ryan in for another hug.  “You didn’t, and I know you never would.”  

They spent some time chatting after Ryan hides the photo in his room.  The clickety clack of VS5 controllers fill the air while they duel in Tournament of Heroes, and Ben groans as he loses for a fifth time.  Things like this used to be his forte as a kid, but he’s probably in for another loss anyway. 

But that was fine.  Homelander would be back soon and the three of them could spend Christmas Eve together as a family.  Even though that family is small and just a liiiittle bit messy, it’s still good.

“That makes six!”  The boy hoots, rising to his feet with a beaming grin and excitement in his eyes.  “I don’t think you’re cut out to play as dad’s character.”  He teases.

Nevertheless, Ben picks him again.

Yeah.  Still good.

[widowsistersandfriends]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Request: Hey there! First of all, I want to say that your stories are amazing and I love reading them <3! They bring me the kind of comfort I can't get anywhere else. I'm fairly new Tumblr user, so I don't know how things actually work here, and I don't even know if you accept story suggestions. But anyway, I have a little idea that I don't feel I'm talented enough to write myself. I don't automatically assume that you will do anything, but I would be more than happy and grateful if you would ever find the time to even consider my suggestion. ❤

Idea: Y/n is really afraid of spiders. One day Natasha she starts discussing it with Natasha. Natasha, being a Black Widow herself, doesn't understand how anyone can be afraid of something as small as a harmless spider. The conversation soon turns into a playful pillow fight where Natasha accidentally finds out that Y/n is ticklish.

+

hi!! I love reading fanfics you made, but I was wondering would you write another natasha and her sister (reader) story? Thx and have a nice day 💛

Note: Thank you so much for these wonderful requests! I appreciate you guys reading my fics and I am glad you like them! I went ahead and combined these requests, as I felt they went well together. Enjoy! <3

Word Count: 1423

----------------------------------------------------------

You were Natasha’s little sister and you adored her. You looked up to her in every way and wanted to be just like her. You were always excited to spend time with her, and today was one of those days. You and Natasha were having a sleepover and you two were preparing for it. First, you two went to the supermarket nearby to pick up snacks.

You immediately went to the candy aisle, much to Natasha’s amusement. 

“You know, Y/N, if you’re too energetic and hyped on sugar, I’m gonna have to find a way to calm you down,” Natasha warned you.

“It’s fine, I can tolerate large amounts of sugar,” you replied, taking a large pack of Twix and a bag of M&M’s off the shelf.

“You want anything?” You asked.

“Hmm, I’ll take a KitKat,” Natasha said, as you smiled, knowing that it was her favorite.

You and Natasha then went to get some microwave popcorn bags, a bottle of lemonade, and some paper plates. While she wasn’t looking, you snuck in a large pack of Oreos. You two also got some arts and crafts supplies that you planned on using at your sleepover.

After you guys bought all the items, Natasha surprised you by swinging by the pizzeria and picking up pizza for dinner, as it was 6pm already. 

“I got your favorite, Y/N, pepperoni with sausage and mushrooms,” Natasha said, as your mouth watered. 

You thanked Natasha for getting pizza as you guys headed home. You jumped out of the car, eager to get the sleepover started.

You set out two paper plates on the table and poured some lemonade for both of you. You guys sat down at the kitchen table and chatted while eating dinner.

“So what do you want to do first?” Natasha asked you.

“I want to do an arts and crafts project!” You cheered.

“Then arts and crafts it shall be!” Natasha declared.

After dinner, you guys threw your plates away and headed upstairs to your shared bedroom. 

Natasha pulled out the arts and crafts supplies, consisting of paint, paintbrushes, canvases, and materials to make friendship bracelets.

You took some of the painting supplies and began to paint a picture. You had been working on your art skills for a while, and you decided to attempt to paint a cabin in the mountains with a lake and beautiful nature nearby.

When you two were done painting, you showed each other what you created. Natasha had painted the Statue of Liberty, which turned out pretty decent. 

“Wow, Y/N, I had no idea you had gotten that good at painting. I remember when you used to just throw random colors on there, and now look at you. All grown up and an expert at painting,” Natasha said, tussling your hair as you beamed with pride.

Afterwards, you decided to make friendship bracelets for each other. You chose red thread and decorated it with various colors and spelled out her name.

You guys traded bracelets and then began to set up for the movie. You got the popcorn out and heated it up before pouring it into a large bowl to share. You also made sure to bring the candy over. 

After the movie, you guys changed into your pajamas and headed back to your room to play games and chat. 

After a while, the conversation had shifted into a deeper topic about fears. You thought your fears were silly, but you wanted to share them with the person you trusted the most. 

“I guess I’m sorta afraid of spiders,” you admitted, looking down into your lap.

“Spiders?” Natasha asked, as you nodded.

“It’s just weird because your average spider won’t do any harm, so I feel silly for being afraid of them.

“Y/N, it’s perfectly normal to be afraid of spiders or anything really. We all have our fears, even if we don’t fully understand them. I mean, part of me doesn’t quite understand it since I’m a black widow myself,” Natasha said, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I’m not afraid of you because you’re not an actual spider,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Wow rude! The disrespect to the original black widow,” Natasha gasped, reaching for a nearby pillow and whacking you with it.

“Pillow fight!” You declared, grabbing another pillow and fighting back. You two whacked each other and giggled endlessly, both not wanting to give in. Natasha lunged and reached to grab your pillow so she would have all the power. However, her hand missed the pillow and she ended up grabbing onto your side, causing you to squeal and jump away.

“Oh sorry Y/N! Are you okay?” Natasha asked, as you were still processing what just happened. 

“Oh, what yeah, I’m okay,” you said, looking away in embarrassment. 

Natasha gave you a weird look, knowing that something was off. Then she finally realized what had happened.

“Ohhhh, I see. Somebody’s ticklish huh?” Natasha said, now inching closer to you.

“No! I’m not!!” You cried, scooting away from her. 

Natasha knew you were bluffing, so she pounced on you and pinned your arms to your side, while tickling your stomach and ribs, making you cackle with laughter.

“NATAHAHAHASHA STAHAHAHAP,” you shouted, kicking your legs underneath her. 

“How come you never told me you were ticklish?” She asked, sneaking her hands into your armpits.

“BEHECAUSE YOU AHAHARE MEHEHEAN,” you squealed, clamping your arms as best as you could. 

“Excuse me?” Natasha said, leaning down to blow a raspberry on your tummy. Your laughter went silent as you shook your head. Your sister gave you a break, but kept your arms pinned.

“Can’t you let me go?” You whined.

“I certainly cannot since I finally found a way to calm you down after all that sugar,” Natasha teased, as she now reached down to shake into your ribs and tickle between the sensitive, vulnerable bones.

“YOHOU JEHEHERK,” you laughed, cursing yourself that you let her find out.

“Where else are you ticklish?” Natasha asked, giving your knees and thighs a squeeze, which gave her a few giggles. 

“Hmm, how about…your feet?” Natasha said, with a growing evil grin as she saw you panic.

“NO PLEASE! NOT MY FEHEEHET,” you squealed, as she began to scribble over your soft and sensitive feet.

“Why not? It’s such a great spot!” Natasha cooed, as you squirmed and thrashed around. 

After she felt you had enough, she helped you sit up.

“Y/N, I have a way to help you get over your fear of spiders,” Natasha said.

“How?” You asked.

She snuck her hand under your shirt to scratch lightly at your back, causing you to gasp and jerk away.

“HAHA NAHAHAT,” you laughed, as she held you still.

“Just imagine that my hand is a spider. See? Harmless, besides the fact that it’s ticklish,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“Now try and stay still,” Natasha said, wiggling her nails all over your back.

You scrunched your face up, trying not to laugh, but couldn’t help but squirm at the touch.

“You’re really that ticklish?” Natasha asked, now tickling your sides to make you collapse in laughter.

“YEHEHES NOHOHOW STAHAHAP,” you begged.

“Not until you’re over your fear of spiders~,” Natasha said, now singing the itsy bitsy spider as she walked her nails over your back.

You snorted as she reached the top of your back, right before your neck.

“Is your neck also ticklish?” Natasha asked, as you shook your head vigorously.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but instead wiggled her nails against the back of your neck. You curled up into a ball, swatting at her while laughing.

“Get over here you little troublemaker,” Natasha said, now squeezing the back of your neck, causing you to squeal and beg for mercy.

“Oh alright, you’ve had enough,” Natasha said, now releasing you from her grip.

“Thanks for helping me try to get over my fear of spiders,” you said, snuggling up against her.

“Are you still afraid of me?” Natasha asked with a smile.

“Well, now you made me have two fears. Spiders and the tickle monster,” you said, poking her ribs.

She swatted your hands away with a glare.

“Well, the tickle monster isn’t ticklish,” Natasha said, as you took that as a challenge.

You snuck your finger under her arm when she wasn’t looking, causing her to yelp and jerk her arm down.

“Y/N! I warned you!” Natasha said, pinning you down for round two of tickle torture.

[naxalite1967]

Some of my favorite quotes:

"While the state exists, there can be no freedom. When there is freedom, there will be no state." — Vladimir Lenin

"We have no compassion and we ask no compassion from you. When our turn comes, we shall not make excuses for the terror." — Karl Marx

"When I give food to the poor they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist." — Dom Hélder Câmara

"I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops." — Stephen Jay Gould

"They talk about the failure of socialism but where is the success of capitalism in Africa, Asia and Latin America?" — Fidel Castro

"A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another." — Mao Zedong

"Those who come with wheat, millet, corn or milk they are not helping us. Those who really want to help us can give us ploughs, tractors, fertilizer, insecticide, watering cans, drills, dams. That is how we would define food aid." — Thomas Sankara

"Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell." — Edward Abbey

"Colonialism is not a machine capable of thinking, a body endowed with reason. It is naked violence. And it only gives in when confronted with greater violence." — Frantz Fanon

"The reason Socialism never took root in America is because the oppressed masses don't see themselves as an exploited proletariat, but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires." — John Steinbeck

"The life of a single human being is worth a million times more than all the property of the richest man on earth." — Che Guevara

"No altar, no belief, no holy book... have ever been able to reconcile the rich and the poor, the exploiter and the exploited. And if Jesus himself had to take the whip to chase them from his temple, it is indeed because that is the only language they hear." — James Connolly

"We will turn our hearts into steel, which we will temper in the fire of suffering and the blood of fighters for freedom. We will make our hearts cruel, hard, and immovable, so that no mercy will enter them, and so that they will not quiver at the sight of a sea of enemy blood. We will let loose the floodgates of that sea." — Luis Felipe de la Fuente

"So I decided to become a midwife… I wanted to deliver a thousand babies. And as each one arrives, especially the little girls, I’ll be there first to whisper into her tender little ear: REBEL! REBEL!" — Emma Goldman

"All revolutions have failed? Perhaps. But rebellion for good cause is self-justifying -- a good in itself. Rebellion transforms slaves into human beings, if only for an hour." — Howard Zinn

"The mine owners did not find the gold, they did not mine the gold, they did not mill the gold, but by some weird alchemy all the gold belonged to them." — Carlos Fuentes

"Without authorities and specialists, everyone would be a hundred ways wiser. Without benevolence and righteousness, people would rediscover caring, the familial bond. Without power-schemes and profiteering there'd be no thugs and thieves." — Mikhail Bakunin

"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now for you will be filled ... But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep." — Jesus Christ (from the Gospel of Luke)

"I dream of a society where I would be guillotined as a conservative." — Mikhail Bakunin

"To revolt is a natural tendency of life. Even a worm turns against the foot that crushes it. In general, the vitality and relative dignity of an animal can be measured by the intensity of its instinct to revolt." — Peter Kropotkin

"We Live in Capitalism, it’s power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings." — Arundhati Roy

"Government is as unreal, as intangible, as unapproachable as God. Try it, if you don't believe it. Seek through the legislative halls of America and find, if you can, the Government. In the end you will be doomed to confer with the agent, as before." — William S. Burroughs

"With the abolition of private property, then, we shall have true, beautiful, healthy Individualism. Nobody will waste his life in accumulating things, and the symbols for things. One will live. To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." — Oscar Wilde

"One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that 'an unjust law is no law at all.'" — Martin Luther King Jr.

"You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere." — Ursula K. Le Guin

"Ask for work. If they don't give you work, ask for bread. If they do not give you work or bread, then take bread." — Louis Blanc

[leclsrc]

congrats on 2k!! so happy to see such a talented writer get the recognition they deserve🤍🤍

can i request 5 gifts w/ charles?? ty and congrats again!

presents – cl16

genre: flufff, bit of angst, 2k celebration

Thank God for expensive cars—they barely make noise when they pull into the driveway of the house.

On nights where the bed’s emptiness is just a bit too painful to bear, your ears grow attuned to the silence so they can hear the car better. Because from then you can judge the rest of Charles’ synchronized routine—his shit parking, turning the key into the lock, heavy footsteps through the foyer and up the stairs, deliberate turning of the doorknob so he doesn’t wake you.

But he never does, because you’re never asleep. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmm, no,” you assure him, sitting up a little. He sports evidence of training, a bruise on his arm, extra stubble, a tighter fitting tee. He climbs into bed beside you holding a tiny box, rattles it so you can hear the chain shake inside. 

“Good. I have a gift for you.”

“Can it wait?” You ask throatily. “I miss you.”

He looks perfect like this, you think, pretty and handsome and tired and yours. He is rarely yours in these triple headers, season peaks where neither of your schedules give. So you envelop him into a hug, the box is laid on the bedside table, and they’re both gone by the time you wake up to the sun.

—

You were never one to accept presents, especially if they looked like they cost a month’s rent. Charles had given you a bracelet to commemorate your first year together, one that matched his.

“We agreed small gifts,” you’d said, jaw to the floor at the shiny object.

“It is… small.” He responded dumbly.

“Small, like…” you pull out your paper maché cat, which you painted to look like a Sauber driver. “Like this.”

So he’d kept the bracelet because you insisted, with all the love in the world, that you simply could not bear to wear it. Then he posted six pictures of your gift, claiming it was the best he’d ever gotten, pressing kisses all over your face.

—

“Would you like a message on the card, Sir?”

“Oui, oui. Can you write, uh…”

Charles rifles through his journal, onto which he’s written every detail of his life. There are race stats, strategy comparisons, crude venn diagrams of plans, tic-tac-toe games on slow meetings with Carlos, long-winded spiels on life that evolve from French to Italian to English, dinner date reminders, interview scripts.

But none of those is what he’s looking for. He seeks something else, a line he’d written on the day you fell asleep hugging him, comforted by his arrival. He had to leave early that day, so he enjoyed your presence and spent time writing. 

He spends a minute too long searching for it, but finds it eventually, sandwiched in between a doodle of Fred and Antonio. For all his trying, however, he later learns he miscalculated your checkout time, and the flowers never arrived on time for you to see them. He pictures the lilies, wilting alone, pictures the card you never got to unfold and read.

Thinking of you. I fall in love with you every time you walk into a room. Charles

—

You meet his eyes across the table, and narrow yours in silent challenge.

“Woah!” He laughs, amused, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. “What was that—” He mimics your challenging expression, eyes briefly flitting down to where he holds his Uno cards. The rest of the room watch idly as the game comes to an intense close.

“It was me telling you I have great cards,” you proclaim with a giggle. “Aaaand uno.” 

The intense close is won by you, much to your opponent’s chagrin. It was an easy win, you state, I had a plus four and he handed it right to me. He finds you by the kitchen of the mansion chewing on a potato chip and extends a bottle of beer toward you, in a truce of sorts.

“Winners deserve a drink, no?” He grins, his eyes crinkling. “Consider it a gift. From me.”

“No, thanks. You already gifted me a win.”

“I just let you win,” he teases. “It was easy.”

“Was it?” You raise an eyebrow, and you both laugh. “All this talk, and I don’t even know my nemesis’ name.”

“Right, how rude,” he tsks, shaking your hand. It stays a bit too long, steals your words. “It’s Charles.”

—

In the end, your relationship befell the same fate as the collection of gifts he’d never been able to get you to receive: it just didn’t work out. 

But sometimes Charles revisits his piles of storage, picks out the florist’s business card or the winning Uno number he’d folded up and kept. He checks and rechecks boxes, wrappers, of gifts ungiven. And he goes to his trophy shelf, full of shiny metal and hard edges, and sees there, in front of them all, the Sauber driver paper maché cat.

And you sometimes go through pictures of the both of you, stare at your empty wrist and wonder what it would look like with a bracelet looped around it. You think of waiting, of the empty bed that’s now become the norm, the phone call from your hotel receptionist who asked if you wanted to return for the flowers that were sent late. 

Both of you remember. Both of you look for the other.

But perhaps most of all, both of you hope there’s a life where gifts were received and love worked. Charles passes the freeway exit that leads to your house and wonders, for a second, if he should turn into it. You lay in bed, ears attuned, wondering if you’ll hear the sound of his car.