#LIKE JUST CANNOT CONTROL HIS EYES AT ALL AND ​ends up making his threats to Hannibal’s crotch

[ghostforwhat]

i think will should have gotten to see hannibal in his stupid little speedo at least once

[missswritesalot]

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

[yoursweetwife]

You entered my sinful life, just don’t leave

warning: female reader, soft Aventurine, Aventurine is called Kakavasha, fluff, kissing, mention of Topaz, slightly suggestive at the end. bad english

P.s I wrote this fanfic before the official art from Hoyo appeared, after that I left it in drafts, since too many stories about this started to appear. Anyway, this is just a cute story before this wonderful man's banner comes out :D

My requests are open!

Aventurine was in no hurry to open his eyes when he woke up. He continued to lie on the large bed, wrapped in soft sheets and enjoying the rays of the sun warming his pale skin.

Out of habit, his right hand ran along the now empty side of the bed. He shivered slightly because of the cold, as if this place had been empty for a long time. Aventurine frowned and gripped the sheets tightly, suddenly a wave of doubt washed over the young man. Was this a dream? However, he calmed down when he heard quiet footsteps approaching the place where he lay.

He tried to hide the smile that threatened to appear on his face when a warm palm touched his cheek. Thin fingers first ran along the skin at the base of the hair, removing yellow strands from the face, then slowly went down along the cheekbone, nose, eyelids, lips…

"I know you're awake, Kakavasha."

A soft voice brought Aventurine out of his sleepy state. Disappointment quickly gave way to a feeling of warmth in my soul. He liked it so much when you called him by his real name, it made him understand that in this terrible unfair world there is a person who cares about him.

Aventurine covered your hand with his own, not allowing you to remove it, and smiled maliciously.

"I wonder how I gave myself away?"

The quiet laugh that left your mouth blessed the player's ears. You adjusted Aventurine's shirt on your body. In his house, this is practically your only clothing, even if you have a lot of your own things here, considering that you often spend the night with him. But by the way the blond stares at you, especially after a shower, you can understand that he loves it when you do this.

"The smile on your whole face gave you away. Shouldn't a poker player be able to not show emotions?"

Aventurine chuckled cheerfully. As a person who intrigues with his incomprehensible behavior, he really cannot control himself around his lover.

“It’s hard not to smile knowing that I got this treasure.”

Aventurine ran his hand over your collarbone, a slight shiver running through your body as his cold fingers touched your soft skin. His long fingers rested on a necklace of aventurine, his birthstone. This is exactly what he gave you in the third year of friendship, it’s surprising that you kept it for so long.

"You're making me blush again. Better get up before I call Topaz."

It was funny to see how Aventurine's face turned sour at the mention of Topaz. Unfortunately, your threats were not a bluff. Angry Topaz is not the most pleasant company, especially in the morning. The blond threw his head back on the pillow and sighed offendedly.

"Okay, okay. I'll get up, but only after the kiss."

You sighed in annoyance and lightly hit his bare chest. It's so hard to say no to those puppy dog ​​eyes.

"Just one kiss."

You ignored the blonde's happy sigh and began to slowly lean towards his face. Your soft lips touched him and Aventurine could not stop the satisfied smile spreading across his face.

He gently cupped your cheek with his palm to deepen the kiss, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, Aventurine pouring all the love and passion even into such innocent kisses. You pulled away from his lips. A quiet chuckle escaped your lips as the player reached for your lips with a pitiful moan.

"Satisfied?"

"Mmm no."

Suddenly, Aventurine grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto the soft sheets. With a loud squeal, your head landed on the soft pillow, Aventurine's strong arms pinning your arms to the sides of your head, preventing you from escaping. A smug smirk appeared on his face at the sight of your red face.

"K-Kakavasha, you're a liar, I can't believe I fell for it again."

Aventurina laughed quietly and brought his face closer to yours, without looking away from your beautiful eyes.

“And you will fall into this trap more than once, sweetie. We both know that you cannot refuse me.”

His left hand moved closer to your face to brush away stray strands. Your heart beat loudly against your chest; not everyone can see his gentle expression on his face. This showed the trust that Kakavasha had in you.

You chuckled and completely relaxed your body.

"I don't think anything will happen if we're a couple of hours late."

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hello! I stumbled across your post about requests opening for certain Rings of Power characters, and I'd love to request one for Gil-galad, if that's okay!

The reader is Elrond's sister, and was taken in by Gil-galad when she was an elfling after Sirion (just like Elros and Elrond). Could you write something that begins in angst and ends in fluff? Like, for example, Gil-galad has been trying to convince himself that he's not falling for the reader (but he is), and one day she goes on a patrol with Elrond and a few other elves. She gets grievously hurt, and is rushed back to the palace by her overprotective brother Elrond. Gil-galad is incredibly concerned, and the love and grief comes rushing to the forefront. He's got to watch her scream in pain as she's being healed by Elrond. When she gets better, the High King professes his love and asks her to court him. A timeskip and a brief mention of them getting married at the end and facing the hardships of Second Age Middle Earth together? Because Eru knows we need some fluff and happy endings!

Thanks a lot, and apologies for the long request!

Hello there! I combined this with another ask I received about our lovely High King! I'm going to make a part 2 that is going to address their happily ever after and maybe some spicey time.... for now, here you go!

zoya-olenka asked:

Ok and the other one, reader and Gil Galad are always clashing during their interactions until the tension is too much and well, we know what follows. I'll leave it to you to set the scenery. I'm sure I'll love anything you come up with!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lovely Thorn

You sit across from Gil-galad at the war council, the map of Middle-earth spread out between you on the heavy oak table. The room is filled with advisors and generals, all eyes turned to the High King as he discusses the latest reports from the patrols. Your heart pounds in your chest, and not because of the looming threat of war.

"I still believe we should patrol further south," you say, folding your arms across your chest. "The enemy could be gaining ground there, and if we don’t act now, we risk losing control of the entire region."

Gil-galad raises an eyebrow, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "Moving south would leave Lindon exposed. I will not risk the heart of our people for a gamble on a dark servant that Galadriel herself cannot seem to find."

"It’s not a gamble," you argue, your voice sharper than intended. "It is a calculated risk, and one we must take if we’re to stand a chance protecting the people of this world."

The room goes silent, all eyes flicking between you and the High King. This isn’t the first time you’ve challenged him in public, and it certainly won’t be the last. His calm, unflinching demeanor only serves to irritate you more. How can he be so maddeningly composed? And worse—how can he look so beautiful even when he’s infuriating you?

"Perhaps," Gil-galad says after a long pause, "you would like to lead the army yourself, then? Since you seem to know so much more about warfare than my generals."

Heat rushes to your cheeks. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it!"

He leans back in his chair, the smirk still there. "I know what you are saying. But the decision is mine to make."

You grit your teeth, feeling the tension thick between you. The air seems heavier when he’s near, and no matter how much he irritates you, you can’t deny that every argument leaves you more flustered than the last.

"Fine," you mutter, finally relenting, though your mind still spins with frustration. "But when the darkness returns to our borders, remember that I warned you."

As you storm out of the room, you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and the sensation only makes your heart race faster.

—---------------------------

You’re standing in the middle of the throne room, arms crossed as you glare at Gil-galad. The council has just adjourned, but the two of you remain, still arguing over the trade agreements with Númenor. He stands with his arms behind his back, the picture of regal calm, while you’re nearly pacing with frustration.

"We need to offer them more, or they’ll break off the alliance," you insist, your tone exasperated. "You’re being too cautious, Ereinion!"

"And you’re being too reckless," he counters smoothly, his voice low but steady. "If we give Númenor too much, they’ll see it as a sign of weakness. We cannot afford to appear desperate."

"I’m not saying we should grovel," you snap, taking a step closer. "I’m saying we should meet them halfway, but you’re so stubborn!"

Gil-galad’s eyes narrow slightly, but that infuriating calm never leaves his face. "You think me stubborn, do you?"

"Yes!" The word bursts out of you before you can stop it. "You never listen to anyone else’s advice, not when it contradicts your own plans. You—" You falter as he takes a step closer, his gaze locked on yours with a sudden intensity that makes your breath catch. You’re close enough now to feel the heat radiating from him, the weight of his presence pressing down on you.

"And you think I don’t listen to you?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. His closeness, the way his gaze flickers down to your lips for just a fraction of a second—it all leaves you dizzy. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you turn sharply on your heel and walk out, your face burning, every nerve in your body on fire.

—---------------------------

Of all things to argue about, you hadn’t expected this. The grand banquet hall is prepared for an important delegation from the elven cities, and you’re standing with Gil-galad, going over the final seating arrangements. He points to one of the seats near the head of the table.

"Lady Galadriel should sit there," he says decisively.

You shake your head. "No, she should be closer to the center. That way, she can engage more easily with both the Galadhrim and the Lindon lords. She’ll feel isolated at the head."

Gil-galad sighs, rubbing his temple. "The head of the table is a place of honor. It shows respect."

"She won’t care about that," you insist, your voice rising slightly. "She cares about connection, not appearances."

"And what makes you think I don’t know what she cares about?" he says, turning to face you fully now, his brow furrowing. "I’ve known Galadriel for centuries."

"Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think," you counter, crossing your arms and standing your ground. You know you’re being difficult, but for some reason, every word out of his mouth today is setting you off. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve. Maybe it’s the way he always manages to look so composed while you’re constantly flustered in his presence.

He takes a step closer, his gaze hardening, but his voice remains calm. "If memory serves, I am the High King, and the decision is mine."

Your heart pounds as he stands so close, his presence once again overwhelming you. You can smell the faint scent of pine and sea air on him, and you hate that even now, even in the middle of an argument, you can’t help but notice how maddeningly attractive he is.

"You always say that," you mutter, looking away, your face burning. "But sometimes I think you make these decisions just to frustrate me."

Gil-galad’s expression softens for just a moment, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Perhaps," he says quietly, "I do."

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You glance up at him, your heart racing, but before you can say anything, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, flustered and confused once again.

—---------------------------

You walk down the quiet halls of the palace, your feet barely making a sound as you wander through the open corridors of Lindon. The sea breeze brushes against your face, carrying with it the familiar scent of salt and pine. You’re lost in thought today, the memories of Sirion still haunting the edges of your mind despite the many years that have passed. 

Your steps slow as you near one of the open council rooms. Two familiar voices filter through the air. Círdan and Gil-galad. Their tones are low but clear enough for you to hear.

“You are the High King of the Noldor, Ereinion. It is your duty to provide a legacy, to ensure the future of our people,” Círdan says with that calm, ancient wisdom in his voice.

There’s a pause, and then you hear Gil-galad’s reply, strained but resolute. “No one deserves that burden, Círdan. To be bound to me would be a life of endless war and worry. The darkness presses closer each day. How could I ask anyone to endure that?”

“You would not be asking. Someone would gladly bear it, if it meant standing beside you,” Círdan counters softly. “There are many who would fill the role, Ereinion. And, if I may speak freely, there is already someone fit.”

A silence follows, heavier than the words before it. You find yourself holding your breath, your heart beating faster for reasons you can’t quite place.

Gil-galad sighs, the sound laced with weariness. “No. There is no one fit for such a task. Not… not her. She deserves more than I can give. I can never ask her to share in this life.”

Her? It couldn’t be you. A sudden weight settles in your chest as your mind scrambles for an explanation. Gil-galad must be in love with someone else—some other elleth, far more graceful and fitting for a king. Perhaps all those charged moments between you—the arguments, the heated exchanges—were nothing more than misunderstandings, your own heart playing tricks on you. You’ve been a fool, misreading his every glance, every word. Heat rises to your cheeks as embarrassment floods you. Of course, the High King would never see you that way.

You quietly slip away from the door, your heart heavy, and find Elrond later that evening. Without revealing too much of your turmoil, you convince him to take you on the next patrol. Anything to clear your mind, to escape these tangled feelings. Elrond hesitates at first, but you press, insisting that some fresh air and a change of pace will help you regain your focus.

But as you ride out with the patrol, your thoughts remain clouded with questions about the mystery elleth. Who is she? Is she one of the noble ladies who frequently attends court? One of the warriors who catches Gil-galad’s eye during council? 

The wind whispers through the trees as your patrol moves cautiously through the dense forest. The air is tense, but your thoughts are elsewhere—drifting back to the conversation you overheard, the words replaying over and over. Who could she be? Gil-galad’s voice, so calm, so certain, echoes in your mind. Whoever she is, she has captured his heart, and that realization claws at you, leaving you distracted and heavy with emotion.

"Are you well?" Elrond’s voice pulls you from your reverie. He rides beside you, his sharp eyes watching the tree line, ever the vigilant commander. You nod, forcing a tight smile, but your mind is still clouded.

Suddenly, a cry goes up from the front of the patrol. The snap of arrows cutting through the air is followed by the sickening thud of one hitting its target. Chaos erupts as orcs burst from the underbrush, their jagged weapons gleaming in the dim light. Your heart leaps into your throat, and instinctively, you draw your sword.

"To arms!" Elrond shouts, his voice clear and commanding over the din of battle. He’s already dismounting, swinging his blade with practiced precision, felling the first orc that rushes him. The patrol scatters, engaging the enemy in pockets of combat, but the ambush has left you surrounded.

You leap from your horse, blade in hand, but your focus is scattered, your movements just a fraction too slow. You parry an orc’s strike, feeling the jarring force of the blow reverberate through your arm. Another charges, and you swing your sword wide, catching it in the side. It falls, but more take its place.

The clashing of steel fills the air, mingled with the guttural roars of the orcs and the cries of your comrades. You fight to keep up, dodging and weaving between the advancing enemies, but your thoughts keep pulling you back—back to her. Whoever she is, she’s the one occupying Gil-galad’s heart, not you. Not ever you.

And that moment of distraction costs you.

An orc lunges from the side, and you turn too late. The blade slashes across your side with brutal force, the shock of it knocking you off your feet. A scream escapes your lips as the pain explodes through your body. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs, blood already soaking through your tunic. You try to stand, but the world spins, your vision dimming at the edges.

"Sister!" Elrond’s voice cuts through the haze, frantic and filled with fear. He’s at your side, fighting off orcs left and right with terrifying precision. He’s calling for help, his face pale as he kneels beside you, hands pressed to your wound. His touch is warm, but you can feel the cold creeping in.

The battle rages on around you, but all you can focus on is the searing pain and the dull roar in your ears. Elrond’s voice fades in and out as he fights to keep you conscious. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the thundering of more hooves—reinforcements, maybe—but it’s too late. The darkness closes in, and your last thought is of Gil-galad. The king you love. The king you can never have.

The world goes black.

The gates of Lindon loom ahead as the patrol rushes back into the city, Elrond riding with you cradled in his arms. You’re barely conscious, the pain from your wound a constant, throbbing ache that keeps you teetering on the edge of blackness. Every breath is agony, and the blood loss has left you weak. Through the haze, you feel the rhythmic beat of your brother’s heart as he holds you close, murmuring soothing words that you can barely hear.

The moment you pass through the gates, the guards shout for aid, and in the next breath, you hear another voice—a voice that sends a jolt through your foggy mind.

"Ereinion," you manage to whisper, but the sound is drowned out by the clamor around you.

Gil-galad appears as if from nowhere, his face pale, eyes wide with fear as he takes in your bloodied form. His gaze locks onto the gash across your side, and his calm, regal demeanor shatters in an instant. He rushes to your side, kneeling next to Elrond as they carry you inside the palace, moving swiftly toward the healing chambers. His fingers tremble as they brush against your cheek, his breath shallow.

"What happened?" His voice is low, edged with a panic you’ve never heard from him before.

"An ambush," Elrond replies tersely, his focus never leaving you as he lays you gently on the bed. "She’s lost a lot of blood, and the wound is deep. I have to start healing her now."

Gil-galad nods, but his eyes remain on you, unable to tear himself away. As Elrond begins the healing process, the room fills with an eerie light. You know what’s coming—the agonizing burn as your brother’s power works to knit your flesh back together. It’s like fire coursing through your veins, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the scream rising in your throat.

The pain surges, and your body writhes involuntarily, your breath coming in short gasps. Elrond’s hands glow brighter as he works, but the intensity of the healing magic is unbearable. Your vision blurs, and a scream tears from your lips, the agony more than you can bear.

"Stay with me," Gil-galad’s voice suddenly breaks through the haze. You feel his hand wrap around yours, firm and steady, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Look at me."

You force your eyes open, your gaze locking onto his. His face is inches from yours, his expression raw with concern, and something else—something deeper that you can’t quite name.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asks, his voice soft but urgent, as if he’s trying to anchor you to the moment, to keep you from slipping away. "You were so angry. Soaked from the sea, all wide eyes and defiance. I knew then that you would be a thorn in my side."

Despite the pain, a weak, breathless laugh escapes you. "Glad... to oblige."

"You’ve been a constant thorn ever since," he continues, his tone light but laced with something tender. "Arguing with me at every turn. About everything. War. Politics. Even seating arrangements."

You wince as another wave of pain hits, but Gil-galad squeezes your hand, his grip steadying you, pulling you back from the edge. His eyes, usually so composed, are filled with a desperate kind of affection. "But," he murmurs, his voice low and almost trembling, "you are a thorn I would gladly bear every day of my life—if you would stay by my side."

Your heart races, but the words are lost in the haze of pain. All you can do is hold on to his voice, to the warmth of his hand in yours, as Elrond works tirelessly to heal you. The burning, searing pain seems to stretch on for hours, each second a battle to stay conscious. But Gil-galad doesn’t leave your side. He speaks to you quietly, distracting you from the worst of it, telling you of moments you had shared, of arguments he had secretly cherished because they meant you were there, with him.

When the pain finally subsides, and the last of the healing light fades from Elrond’s hands, you collapse back against the pillows, utterly exhausted. Your body is drenched in sweat, your limbs trembling, but the worst is over. Your eyes flutter closed, your mind drifting as sleep pulls you under. The last thing you feel is the warmth of Gil-galad’s hand still holding yours.

As you slip into unconsciousness, Gil-galad remains where he is, his fingers intertwined with yours, his expression unreadable. He leans his forehead against your hand, relief and exhaustion written in every line of his face.

"I won’t leave her," Gil-galad says quietly, his voice hoarse. He looks up at Elrond, his gaze unwavering. "Not until she releases me."

Elrond, weary but grateful, nods in understanding. "She’ll need you when she wakes," he says softly, placing a hand on Gil-galad’s shoulder before quietly leaving the room.

The High King stays, his grip never loosening, watching over you as the night wears on, his heart heavy with the weight of his unspoken feelings.

[demialwrites]

FF7 x Reader

Annoying things about being in a relationship with them

Rufus Shinra

He knows how to clean surprisingly decently because of his time confined to Turk HQ in Before Crisis but stubbornly refuses to do certain things. It's 'beneath him'

Even if you're on birth control or otherwise can't get pregnant, it doesn't matter. He's wearing a condom and how dare you suggest otherwise

He takes up all the space in the closet because of all the layers he insists on wearing

He insists on taking his dog everywhere, even if you explain it terrifies some people. For example: your poor parents

Rude

There's a third wheel in this relationship and his name starts with a Re and ends with a No

Rude is very romantic. However, he only barely has time so his gestures happen spontaneously and it's hard to plan around his schedule

Often comes home with injuries and you're the one who has to patch him up and worry about him. He doesn't worry about himself

He prefers to show not tell. You have to learn how to read him with a glance

Reno

There's a third wheel in this relationship and his name is Rude

His insecurity randomly spikes and he gets mega jealous, sometimes with threats at the offending party

Very loud. All the time

Gets broody about things he has to do at work and sometimes nothing you do will help

Gets whiney when you don't have the stamina to have sex all damned night

Cloud

Cannot communicate his needs. Does not know what his needs are. WHAT ARE NEEDS?

Everyone flirts with him but if you try to talk to him about it, he never noticed the flirting in the first place

Sometimes cute animals follow him home and oops, one day you have seven cats, fifteen chickens, four dogs, several chocobos, and one of those giant elephant fiends because it was injured and alone. You didn't sign up to live at a zoo but here you are, shoveling elephant shit every day

Occasionally, one of his hair spikes stab you straight in the eye when he's being the little spoon

Barret

Thinks he can fix everything himself when sometimes you just need him to listen

Like Reno, Barret can be quite loud. If you like peace, sometimes you have to take some space. It makes the big guy sad

Not very detail-oriented. Leaves little things like ammo all over the garage/shed floor and small bits of trash all over the house. He meant to pick it up, honest!

Occasionally breaks the bed

Tseng

You can't be spontaneous for shit because he anticipates everything

He has certain cleaning standards but he doesn't always tell you. He just redoes it himself

Must be the one to clean and iron his suit himself or he will get annoyed

His handwriting is annoyingly perfect and it makes you feel bad about your chicken scratch

Elena

Puts herself in danger way too often. She doesn't understand your horrified reaction to her story of how she jumped out of a helicopter onto a moving dune buggy in the middle of the Corel desert

It can be hard to tell if she's actually angry or just venting

You know more about her work than is probably safe for you

Too spontaneous. She sometimes makes important decisions without consulting you first

Reeve

Main bad habit: he is a workaholic

Sometimes puts others needs before yours. He's just trying to help

Doesn't take good care of his health

Uses the sad puppy eyes to get out of arguments more often than he should

Sometimes leaves spare cait siths and his parts all over the living room

[teojira]

Ooooh just finished reading your koba drabble and its soooo good??? I would love to hear your thoughts how the other apes, Rocket, Maurice, Ceaser, and Blue eyes, think about Kobas' new human shadow... or the way they squabble 👀 I imagine its a mixed bag XD. Amazing writing as always ❤️

[How the rest of the colony apes react to you and Koba's 'friendship']

Summary: The other apes worry about your sanity.

Warnings: Platonic relationship with Koba (based off of my previous Koba request!)

A/N: First time writing for Maurice, Rocket and Blue eyes!!! I was so excited to see them included here 😭 I hope you enjoy anon!

Caesar:

He's already warned Koba multiple times to not take things too far, that just because you've decided that you want to follow him around, doesn't mean he can mistreat you.

Keeps a close eye on y'all when in vicinity, but he knows Koba better than others do.

Koba can claim he hates you as much as he does, but he hasn't done anything to truly drive you away, he could hurt you, bite into you with his canines and do damage but at most, he growls and tries to swat you away like a fly.

Koba also in the same vein will follow you around when you're off doing your own thing, especially if you decide to leave the colony on your own.

He's not slick, telling Caesar that he's off to rest.

Caesar literally sees Koba climbing trees to trail you. It's amusing just how much the bonobo is denial that he cares for you.

It's obvious to Caesar that a part of Koba enjoys the attention, and enjoys your company despite everything, so he doesn't interfere.

Maurice:

Actively tells you to leave Koba alone, he's genuinely not about the whole idea of you and Koba being together.

It gives him anxiety, he's not your father, he's not your family but he's concerned.

He'll talk to Caesar about it, trying to get him to put a stop to it but alas, Caesar says you're both adults, he can't control who you spend time with.

He agrees of course, and while yes Koba does show some semblance of...care for you, it doesn't change his mind.

Please you're stressing him out, give him a break and eat dinner with him and the children instead.

Koba is threatening to bite your fingers off for touching his berries and Maurice genuinely cannot tell if it's a valid threat or not.

Rocket:

Rocket doesn't include himself into the situation, but is another worrier deep down, he's a father, he can't help it.

I see him as the laid back chill uncle who's like 'Hey, do what you want to do but be careful.'

He'd had to step in a couple of times when he thinks Koba is genuinely out to harm you, hooting and calling for Caesar. This ends in him and Koba squaring off against one another and you frantically telling Rocket that you're fine.

By now he doesn't interfere, but he does keep an eye out, always fighting the urge to grab you and take you away from Koba.

Tries to offer you to spend more time with his previous wives, Ash or himself.

Blue eyes:

Blue eyes and you are kinda in the same boat, despite Koba's faults, Blue eyes does look up to his father's close friend.

Koba would never hurt Blue eyes, not without great repercussions, but he could hurt you, the tiny human that has no defensive measures against a huge bonobo, so forgive Blue if he's a little nervous at you pestering Koba.

The young chimp makes sure to check in with you after your random little fights with Koba, it doesn't matter how many times you tell him it's all in good fun, he will make sure you're okay.

He's worried, okay, he gets it from his father, Caesar has told him just how fragile humans are, how their feelings are easily hurt, it makes him treat you damn near like glass.

Side eyes you everytime you go to Koba's nest to mess with him.

Ash will try and make bets with how long it'll be til Koba tries and kills you as a joke, only for Blue eyes to choke on his spit and tell him off, baring his teeth and jostling his friend around.

"Do not make fun!" The young chimp signs frantically.

[azsazz]

Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Cassian x Reader

Summary: They say all is fair in love and war.

Warnings: Smut, hate-fucking.

Word Count: 5,313

Notes: I've said it once and I'll say it again. I think I'm in love with this Cassian.

_________________________________________

“I’ll wrestle you to your fucking knees if you don’t do it yourself.” Cassian’s ire slides up your spine like a blade straight from the forge, “So why don’t you save us both the time and get down.”

Your glare does nothing to deter the path of his lust-filled gaze, drinking in your revealing dress, the onyx ink adorning your bare skin from bargains made throughout your years, the sweep of coal around your eyes, covering only the most intimate parts of you.

Except for the one buried deep within your soul, your innermost feelings, he’s attuned to. All because of that damned mating bond.

You cannot stand the male looking down at you. That spark in his eyes, the demands from those lips, curled into a cruel smile at the flare of anger he feels from you, all sharp teeth and drunk on lust. His stare is just as cutting, and you can hardly tell if he hates the silvery silk you’re cloaked in, like moonlight dripping off your skin, or if the dislike is simply directed at your entire being.

Either way, you don’t have time. The both of you are supposed to be joining the others in Rhysand’s office for a final walkthrough of the plan before heading into the Hewn City for the night, one full of debauchery and putting on a show for the citizens that think you’re nothing more than a crony for a single-minded High Lord.

But Cassian had caught you in the hallway and forced you back into your room, cock hard and demanding you get on your knees for him. It was a thing that you don’t remember having started, as the both of you held a strong dislike towards each other for years, since Rhysand had brought you in to give a fresh stance on warfare. But lust had licked up your spine at his actions nonetheless. Damn that unaccepted bond purring in your chest, reacting to him in every way, betraying you to your core.

Rhysand didn’t think that Cassian would react with such abhorrence to the presence of another well trained general, especially a female. It wasn’t like he had brought you in to replace the warlord, although, from hearing some of his strategies, you thought you might’ve been brought in to do exactly that.

You size him up, as you always do, and his hazel eyes flicker at the challenge. Sparring with him always ended with both of you torn and bloody, neither of you willing to submit to the other. It carried on into the bedroom as well, fighting for control in the throes of lust, your unmated bonds thrumming in your chests, always reaching out for one another. 

And yet neither of you had denied it, though the threat always lingered, both of you teetering on the edge of declining the other when irritated too much. But that itch was constant, never fulfilled, urging you to react.

You open your mouth to snap back at him, a nasty retort on the tip of your tongue, but he’s quick – hundreds of years of Illyrian training under his belt had made him so. He grips your chin roughly, the bite of his fingers pressing into the hinge of your jaw makes your cunt clench, even as you glare up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he scolds, like he knows exactly what you had planned on spewing. The fucking smirk on his face tells you that the only thing you’ll be spitting on is his cock, whenever he demands it. The steely, commanding look in his eyes makes a shiver crawl up your spine and your fists curl into the smooth fabric of your dress. “No talking.”

And Mother, do you want to speak just to piss him off. You know what will happen if you do, you’ve tried it on many occasions, testing his limits, because there was no way in hell that you were going to take his demands as easily as one of his mediocrely trained soldiers, not when the both of you so openly disliked each other.

But you’re already running late. You need to be downstairs soon for the briefing and if you open your mouth now he won’t let you cum. So instead, you bite your tongue to the brink of splitting it open, and sink to your knees before Cassian.

His cock twitches in his pants and he nearly groans at the sight of you, the harsh glare you’re sending up at him, your chin trapped in his hold. If he presses just a little firmer those pretty pink lips will pop right open for him–

Cassian works his belt loose with one hand, the other holding onto you like a vice. You don’t move, don’t dare to help him with his leathers. You so achingly want to watch his cock spring from confinement when he shoves them over the cutting muscles of his hips, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You settle for watching it from the corner of your eyes, so close that his cock nearly hits you in the face. 

You can feel the warmth radiating from his massive length and your mouth waters, remembering the last time you’d had that heavy heat between your lips. You swear he was Cauldron blessed.

He’s ready as ever, precum beading at the tip as he strokes himself once, twice, pressing the head of his cock against your mouth, smearing the milky bead across your lips. You take a deep inhale of the heady scent of him, but it only spikes your arousal. Cassian’s cock twitches at the  barely there feeling, an unconscious reaction to the mating bond festering beneath his skin.

You force nonchalance and hatred with every fiber of your being, staring up at him in defiance. Later, you will get your revenge, riding him until the sun wakes and not letting him cum until he forces you into the mattress and uses you like you’re nothing but a whore. You can picture the way his large hands will manhandle you, folding you into tight shapes for him as he pounds into your cunt with fervor, like a drowning man, spewing vitriol like they’re confessions of love.

A raised eyebrow, your way of asking, ‘Any more demands? Or can we get this started?’

Cassian’s grin turns feral, his fingers pinching open your jaw while his free hand coils your hair around into a tight fist.

“No gagging, sweetheart.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You’re eager to play tonight, riled from the time spent with Cassian’s cock in your mouth, stretching your throat wide enough to take his entire length, your hair pulled into his large fist as he shoved your head closer to his body until your nose met the coarse hairs above his cock.

He held you there and you reveled in the burn. There was nothing gentle about him having full control of you, and the lick of lust you’d let slip between the two of you only made his free hand slide down, clamping at your soft neck where he could feel himself, your throat bulging around his girth. 

If you had more time he would have stripped you bare and lifted your cunt to his mouth to devour the wetness dripping from your folds. He was perhaps the most excited down there, and it was the only time where you’d let him dominate you, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you until your thighs quaked, breathing so ragged you couldn’t argue with him, hands holding so tightly to his hair he thought you might rip it clean from his scalp. 

He’d cum so far down your throat you could hardly feel the hot spurts as he released. You’d shoved at his hips in desperation, wanting to taste his familiar musk. By the end of it you’d had spit and cum dripping from your chin to the milky skin between your breasts the moonlit silk of your dress left bare.

You wanted to bathe in it, wear it proud like any battle scar, but you shoved those thoughts so deeply inside of you where his prying bond wasn’t able to reach. Instead, you sent him the ice cold hatred you felt anytime someone compared his strategies to yours. You honed in on that feeling and held on tight.

At least the material of your dress hadn’t been stained, and you’d made a valiant attempt at fixing your hair before you showed up to the meeting room with your comrades.

If any of them noticed anything off about you, they knew better than to speak.

Now, you’re prowling the large ballroom after having received a nod from your High Lord to lure and pry for information by any means necessary. Cassian preferred brute force and Azriel tended to seek information with his blades, while you used a different approach, one that might even work better than bloodshed and torture.

There’s nothing more threatening to a male than a female’s body.

The music playing throughout the hall is sensual in itself, the fast-paced sounds flowing throughout the room in a lustful wave. The sultry female voice harmonizes perfectly with her male counterpart, and the song sounds like it’s own mixture of lewd moans and words, the air hot and serenading the partygoers like sirens.

You’ve wanted nothing more than to press your body up against someone’s, and after having downed a few glasses of wine, that is exactly what you plan on doing.

Your eyes catch on a tall male then, your first victim. Rhysand had briefed you and the other members of the Inner Circle on him, Rhodes. His body is lean with muscle, skin a pretty pale blue that would draw the eye of anyone in the room. His caramel gaze scans the room as he speaks to a fellow warrior, an empty rock glass hanging lazily at his side. He has a strong nose and matching scars mirrored across both cheeks that somehow only exaggerates his rugged beauty. He’s one of Beron’s highest appointed commanders, and even you cannot deny his gorgeous features.

Slinking through the crowd to him is easy, and drawing him away from the male before him easier, drawing him deep into the crowd of writhing bodies with the promise of entertainment on your curved lips.

Oh, these generals of war and how they like to play.

Dancers clear from your path with scowls, some spitting insults at you as you drag their general through the hall with a grin, like you’ve won a luxurious prize. You don’t flinch or cringe away from them, only smile and swing your hand with the commanders to emphasize and flaunt what you’ve got.

You find a spot in the middle of the floor, where Rhysand and Feyre can both see you from the dais, where everyone has the perfect view of you and your prey, the scalding flash locking your spine in place tells you so.

You ignore the feeling, not letting your act falter as you spin to a stop before him. The blue-skinned fae doesn’t stop with you though, his large stride eats the last step separating you, forcing all of the air between you to rush away until his body is flush against yours. You have his full attention.

A playful smirk graces your lips as you stare up at him, fingers already reaching up, grazing across his dark tunic to wrap around his neck. His hands slide around your waist, gentlemanly for now. It’s a pleasing surprise, knowing how the males of the Hewn City actually are.

You find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with Rhodes, and your swaying quickly turns to writhing, grinding against him as his hands pull you desperately into his body at the command of the sinful music. You nearly lose your motive when you meet his butterscotch eyes, drinking in every movement you make. 

You can feel his interest against your hip.

Rhodes curls downwards, so tall that you wonder if his spine hurts just a little, as he dips down to meet your gaze more fully, a question in his eyes.

“You think you can have me?” you purr, a wicked smile gracing your lips as you trail a metallic dipped fingernail down the exposed blue of his chest. The effects of the wine have you buzzing, but you know better than to give and not receive payment for your efforts. “You know that there’s always a price to pay, don’t you, Rhodes?”

His burned buttery eyes flash with irritation and his grip on your hips tighten, a clear sign of his frustration. You can see the battle behind his heated gaze, how badly he wants you, what information he’s willing to give you in exchange for a taste.

The thunderous music peaks, crashing into a crescendo that makes you shiver as a second body closes in on you from behind, pressing flush against you. Your bond purrs in your chest but it could be the buzz from the wine as you arch backwards into the warmth, grinding into him as your head tilts back to lean against the wall of a male who’s trapped you between him and Rhodes, eyes shut in bliss and mouth open in a pleasured exhale.

The male behind you dips his head toward your ear and you can’t help but to tilt your head, leaning it against his temple as he speaks.

He chuckles, and Cassian’s breathy and hot words send shivers up your spine. “Oh, you’ll fuck anything, won’t you, sweetheart?”

At the sound of his voice your heart stops and your eyes snap open, locking directly on Rhodes’, who’s now looking down at you like you’re some sort of festering wound. He releases your hips immediately and he slinks back into the crowd on a jarring note from the violin, chin tilted high and glaring down at anyone who looks his way. Even he knows better than to fuck with one of the High Lords companions.

The shock must still be on your face when you turn around because Cassian’s shit-eating grin only widens before he’s taking your wrist in a firm grip and leading you from the dancefloor.

You want to refuse, but the bond in your chest is aching at you not to, to follow him even though you’re angrier than the Mother. He’s ruined your entire scheme.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you spit once he’s dragged you from the party, putting a room between you and the debauchery that’s happening in the ballroom, music softening through the closed door.

Cassian spins on his heel, shoving you right up into the wooden frame. It’s too dark to read the look on his face but his eyes glimmer in the night and his wings pull up high. You can make out the shapes of his claws forming a taunting halo above his head.

His hands are everywhere all at once, pulling at the ties of your dress to release it from your body that’s already curving into his eager touch. The darkness chills your skin as the fabric melts to the ground and your breath is a gasp as Cassian’s mouth sucks harshly at the skin of your throat, quickly working his way downward, your heartbeat pounding in time with the drums of the notes in the other room.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He taunts and you hiss, pulling at his hair from where you were threading the silky strands through your fingers.

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“No,” he growls, low in your ear. You let slip a strained moan as you feel the heat of his cock meet your dripping cunt before sliding in easily, one fell swoop that shoves all of the emotions you’ve buried deep inside of you to the surface. “Fuck you.”

You cry out in pleasure, clinging to him like you never want to let him go. Your legs wind around his waist and he presses your body into the door as he fucks into you, his fingers covering the spots where Rhodes had been holding you in the ballroom, replacing the commanders touch with his own.

The bond aches in your chest at your close proximity to your counterpart. Your other half, equals in every way yet you can’t stand each other. You can’t stand his stupid hair that fits perfectly between your fingers, his hazel gaze that’s always staring at you with malice. You hate the smirk he directs your way and how you can’t seem to ever get those lips off of your mind, how you dream about him as much as you work with him–

No. You need to shut that train of thought down immediately, but it’s so difficult when his cock commands them from you, pushing them to the surface with each thrust, you moan out his name instead.

“That’s right,” he says against your mouth, “Scream for me, sweetheart.”

And you do.

It’s the only thing you can do besides let your innermost feelings spill from your lips. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way, know that he loathes you, but you can’t help it. You were made to be his, to want him completely.

Your nails rake down his back, so awfully close to the base of his wings it has him shuddering a growling, nipping harshly at your lip as he untangles your hands from around him. You whimper at the loss when he pins them above your head in one hand, the other supporting you, the muscles of his arm bulging with the effort.

Head falling back on your shoulders, your thighs quake where they’re clasped around Cassian’s waist. You can feel the perspiration against your forehead as he presses his against your own, glaring down at you because he wants to watch you as he ruins you, makes a mess of you for everyone else tonight.

Your chest heaves against his, a battle all its own as your heart beats a booming rhythm. Your skin sticks to his and you gasp when he shifts, plunging into you from a different angle.

You cum on his cock but Cassian’s not finished with you. He bites at your shoulder when he feels you tense around him, revels in the noises you make, uncaring if anyone else hears. It is the Hewn City, afterall.

“Give me another,” he demands, picking up his pace, pressing into your further. You can hardly breathe with his body against yours and you think you’ve heard the wood of the door begin splitting open from how harshly he’s fucking you into it.

Your legs go limp around him but he has one thing on his mind, releasing your arms in favor of latching onto your legs to hold you up. You mewl at the relentless way that he’s fucking into you, the long draw of your orgasm quickly building into another as his cock hits the spot inside of you like he’s known it all along.

You have no choice but to follow his demand, cumming around him again with a keen as he follows, releasing into you, his breathing ragged.

He leans against you for a moment as he collects his bearings and before you have the chance to revel in the way his body molds perfectly to yours he’s dropping you to your feet and tucking himself away.

“Clean yourself up, you look like a mess.”

His words clang in your chest like a death knoll, harsh and unrelenting. You should have known it to be true, neither of you ever stayed a minute longer in each other’s presence once you’d finished, but this…this stings.

Cassian leaves you in the darkened room by yourself while he slips away, headed towards the dining room where dinner is about to be served.

You sit for a long moment, his cum dripping down your thighs as you bury unwanted emotions away. Your dress is a disheveled mess and your lips are bruised with his kisses, skin dotted purple from his touch. 

You knew that the Mother was cruel, but not like this. Because you’re mated to the male you loathe, even if he has ruined you for every other body in Prythian.

You fist the silky material of your dress as your anger seeps in.

No. You will not let him humiliate you this time. You’re the one he stopped in the hall. You’re the one he dragged away from Rhodes. You’re the one who made him cum again and again. 

You’re not letting Cassian have this one.

It takes you two times to stand because of how bad your legs are trembling. Your thighs are sore from how hard Cassian fucked you and you can feel every place he touched as you shove your skirts down to cover your slick legs. You hadn’t bothered to wipe him from you. No, you want them all to know who treats you like this.

You stalk towards the dining room, building your confidence brick by brick with each clack of your heels. Spine straightening, chin tilting upward, mouth pressed into a firm line.

Let them see the tear in your dress, the mess of your hair, the smear of your lipstick halfway across your cheek. Let them smell the cum dripping down your thighs. Show them how much of a brute through and through Cassian is. 

Fuck him.

As you near, you hear the heavy scrape of a chair against the floor. It’s an urgent sound, like someone’s realized they’ve forgotten their weapon in another room. Just as you’re about to turn the corner to enter the dining room Cassian appears, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and hoisting you over his shoulder in such a swift move it takes your mind a moment to catch up. The talon of his wing nearly tears your forehead open and you make a noise of frustration in retaliation.

“Hey,” you shout, pounding at his back. His grip is tight, unrelenting and your fists don’t seem to have any effect on the hard cording of his back. “Put me down!”

“No,” he growls in response, stalking away from the dinner guests.

But you’re not giving up, you never have.

Cassian lets you slip from his shoulder but he’s quick to pin you against the wall, as far from the dinner his body would allow before the need to be buried inside of you again becomes unbearable.

“I’m hungry,” you say, acting aloof as ever. 

Cassian grins wolfishly, “I’ll give you something to put in your mouth then, how about that?”

You don’t have a chance to respond because he’s dipping down, lips capturing yours in a feral kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

Your body reacts instinctually. You’re clawing at his clothes, but he no longer seems to care if buttons pop from the ridiculous shirt Rhys had forced him into, if the fabric snags against his wings in your haste to rid him of it. It’s like you can’t control yourself, something deep inside of you needing to be filled by him always.

He spins you around and you plant your hands against the wall to brace yourself. Rucking your dress up on your hips, Cassian is quick to tug his trousers off once more. And while you’d come here with the intention of giving him a piece of your mind, your body clearly has other thoughts, your mating bond thrashing around in the cage it’s being locked in.

“Don’t be fucking greedy now,” he grunts as you arch into him, shoving your cunt back to take him more fully. His hands are steel on your hips, the pads of his fingers digging roughly into your skin, halting your movements. “Already ready for round two?”

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood as you try to stifle the whimper crawling up your throat. Gods, you need more, you need his broad chest pinning you to the wall, you need to feel the roughness of the partition imprinted into your cheek as he tries to shove you through it while he fucks into you harder, unable to control himself, giving into that primal urge that you’re feeling as well, the bond trying to claw it’s way from your body and into his–

“You’ll get as much as I give you,” his snarl is paired with a shifting of his hips, not forward, but back. It sends a flash of anger through you and you’re shaking in his grasp, you’re sure he can feel it beneath his hold on you. You can feel the head of his cock pulling out and you squeeze your eyes shut, clenching around him desperately, like it might just keep him there.

Cold air rushes through your lungs as he retreats. If you were a better female you wouldn’t beg, but the warmth of his pulsing cock withdrawing from your cunt is like losing a limb. You can feel your heart rate pick up in panic as his tip halts right inside of your entrance, any slight movement from you will send him sliding out completely.

You gasp desperately, and it sounds like a plea of pain while he holds you on the end of this hot cock.

“Fuck you like you love me, Cassian,” you beg, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep still for him. You don’t even realize what you’ve said until the air shifts in the aftermath.

Cassian’s hold on your hips turns to steel and his spine straightens. The bond in his chest roars and his vision goes white. He nearly loses the grip he has on himself, the wall he’d so carefully built between the two of you, and your confession has him wanting to bury his cock so deeply into you it’ll break you in half, so that he’s embedded into your body, your soul, forever.

“Tell me again,” he commands, but it’s not a warcry signaling the beginning of battle. No, it’s something else, much softer. It makes you whimper.

But you refuse. You will not repeat the words that had slipped from your mouth as if someone else had taken control of your body, as if your mating bond had grown a voice and forced it from you on its own. The words that had been shoved so deeply within yourself that they hardly even sound like you.

Cassian’s demeanor changes at your lack of response, fisting your hair in his grasp. He forces you into the wall with his elbow to your spine and pulls your hair tight. Your neck cranes and your back bows in his hold. He leans in close, breath hot in your ear as he growls. “Tell. Me. Again.”

“Please,” you gasp. Please don’t make me repeat myself. Please don’t stop fucking me. Please don’t hate me–

“No, that’s not it,” he scolds, but his tone takes on a slightly softer tone. His movements are agonizingly slow, sliding deep into like he hasn’t left in the middle of dinner to fuck you against the wall not even twenty feet away. Your entire body shudders in reaction to the long stroke, and tears burn your eyes when he nearly pulls all the way out of you again. “Tell me, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.”

“Don’t,” you choke, a stubborn tear rolling hot down your cheek. You squeeze your eyes tight so he doesn’t see, “You’re being cruel, Cassian.”

“I think you’re the one being cruel, sweetheart,” he counters lowly. “Taunting me with your words, touching other males, teasing me with this perfect pussy.” His last words are accentuated by two sharp thrusts that make your cunt convulse and a weak moan escape your lips. “So I think you’ll be repeating exactly what you said a moment ago when I ask you.”

How can such harsh words make you feel like this? Cassian’s been nothing but rude to you since you’d arrived and yet he makes you feel like no other has. And if this is how you feel when he’s discourteous, you imagine how you’d feel if he actually had feelings…

Cauldron fucking spare me.

You work to swallow, refusing to meet his gaze as you speak, voice trembling. “I said…fuck me like you love me.”

The air is sucked from your body at the admission, his body, from the room. He’s so silent that if his warmth at your back and the head of his cock weren’t torturing you, you wouldn’t even know he was here at all.

“Look at me,” Cassian asks, and his voice is soft, so tender that it makes you flinch.

You refuse. You can’t force yourself to look at him. Not when he’s going to glare at you and make fun of you–

“Sweetheart,” he coos, tracing a gentle thumb across your cheek. “Please.”

And you do.

You don’t even know who you’re looking at. Cassian’s hazel eyes have gone soft, big and wide and staring at you like he doesn’t recognize you either. His bond strokes against your heart like his fingers do your spine, his grip in your hair slackening as his brash fingertips melt into a caress.

“I do love you, sweetheart,” he admits, and a part of you so desperately wants to believe that he’s lying. That his sappy glance will morph into one of condescending and taunting, but you can see it in his eyes that he’s being nothing but honest.

That feeling in your chest tells you so, too.

But you can’t help the insecurities that whimper out of you. “You do?”

He releases a shaky chuckle and he relaxes like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You gasp as he pulls out of you completely but he’s spinning you around and drawing you into his body, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss that doesn’t burn with lust but with love.

“Gods, yes,” he pants, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know when it changed. Reckon I’ve always loved you, I think.”

Your heart soars at his words, mating bond singing in your chest. You can’t help but to grin up at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, admiring his own look of awe.

“I think I’ve always loved you too, Cassian,” you sigh. Unable to help yourself you press up onto the tips of your toes, pecking him on the lips once, and then again. 

The war between you is over.

Almost, because the string in your chest coiling and twining with his is the last thing keeping you apart. 

Cassian must feel it too because he’s groaning like a dying male, leaning into you exaggeratedly. It makes you giggle and his heart soar.

“If I eat you out does that count as completing the bond, sweetheart? Need you to be mine right now.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into his chest. “Cassian, there is a dinner table right on the other side of this wall.”

He pulls away from you, face hard. The smile slips from your lips but his look isn’t one of anger, but primal protection.

“I’m not letting any of those fuckers see you like this.”

You cross your arms over your chest and raise your eyebrow in challenge. “Like what?”

That familiar razor-sharp smirk graces his lips, making your heart flutter in your chest. He reaches down to where your dress is torn and bunched up from your promiscuous activities, dragging two long fingers through your wetness and cum from minutes earlier. 

You shudder as he draws his fingers away, into his mouth, answer enough.

“Well, then you better get me out of here quickly,” you purr, wrapping your hand around his still stiff cock. He grunts softly and his pupils dilate. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE DANIEL PARK HEADCANONS

Well I've started getting into the Lookism Fandom as well and damn, it's addicting. Also I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long, my 12th grade exams are finally done and it's a huge relief which means I'll have more time on my hands now. Thank you all for your support despite my lousy forgetful behavior

Daniel Park as a yandere would be obsessive, possessive and would also be a complete stalker and somewhat slightly manipulative too but not to an extent which would hurt you completely. You'd first befriend little Daniel and his obsession for you starts from there. When everyone else was busy picking on him and making fun of him and ruthlessly bullying him, you appeared like an angel sent from the heavens itself to save him, to protect him and accept him for who he was. He was so surprised when you got a job at the convenience store where he worked and was extremely thrilled to be working along side with you to spend more time with you

As time passes by, his obsession for you spiraled into a rabbit hole of madness. His love for you was getting out of control. Whatever body he might be in, you will always be the only person who will reside in his heart. You'll always have a special place in his heart. Daniel would not spare anyone who dared to make you feel upset or dared to pick on you or make you cry. The other day Logan Lee decided it would be a good idea to take his frustration out on you after Zoe ended up rejecting him for what seemed like the umpteenth time and Logan ended up pouring chocolate milk all over you and your body which leaked and dripped down your hair and uniform

Your eyes welled up with tears and before you were even about to react, Daniel punched Logan straight in the jaw and a few strikes and blows later he was blacked out and unconscious. He becomes ruthless whenever someone tries to harm you. He went back to his sweet and kind and caring more as he pulled you out of the cafeteria into the hallway and offered you his jacket and helped you wash off the chocolate milk from your hair, his heart stinging and breaking at your every sniffle. If there's something he absolutely cannot stand is seeing you, the love of his life cry. You're literally breaking his heart with your tears and he'll gently caress your cheek with his fingers and assure you that he's always here for you

When he makes a promise he sticks by it no matter what. So when he said he was going to be by your side at all costs, he meant it. Your innocent oblivious self won't know that Daniel is pretty much stalking the heck out of you now. It's just for safety purposes you know, the streets of South Korea aren't safe for a pretty little thing like you. You need someone like him to protect you and take care of you and he's more than happy to play your knight in shining armor. You had the dangerous habit of listening to music with both your airpods in your ears which made you completely oblivious to your surroundings. Your lack of awareness would have resulted in something drastic had it not been for your protector Daniel lurking from behind the shadows to protect you by beating those no good scumbags who dared to lay their filthy eyes on you

At times he's not above killing people either especially if they look at you in the wrong manner. Don't even get me started when he loses his consciousness and he blacks out and has eyes like Gun's. He goes completely feral and can and will destroy everything that stands against his way which proved to be a threat to you. He likes cherishing the little things you give him from pens to pencils to candies and such

Under NO circumstances whatsoever does he want you getting involved in fights or these crew wars that happen so frequently. It doesn't matter if you're a fighting prodigy but he will always ensure fighting is off the table for you. The last thing he wants is to see you get hurt and he'd rather burst a blood vessel than allow a single scratch on that pretty body of yours

Once you do manage to figure out he's stalking you or has an unhealthy obsession towards you there won't be any point in going to his friends either for help. Zack is the same case with Mira so it wouldn't really bother him, Jay is helping out his good friend Daniel by keeping an eye on you with his various resources and ensuring the idiots who made the mistake of making you upset are now blacklisted from every single company existing. Perks of being the Prince of the fashion department. Vasco and the Burn Knuckles would just see this as Daniel loving you so much that he's willing to do anything for you and they admire him even more if that was possible

Daniel would only resort to kidnapping you if you're on the verge of leaving the country or if you're going out with someone else. It's okay though it's not your fault. You're never in the wrong in his eyes. You'll wake up in his apartment and you'll obviously be confused and upset and he can understand that. He's filled the apartment with all your favorite books and your favorite things to make you feel more at ease and comfortable. Take as much time you need to settle down he won't mind. It's a big change for you after all

He loves and adores it when you compliment him, he's like melted putty in your hands. Just say the word and anything you want will be yours. Except for your freedom of course. You won't be able to escape from him, he'll find you but he won't punish you. He can't beat to hurt you but he'll make sad puppy dog pleading eyes and ask you why won't you love him despite what he's doing for you. Reason and logic is thrown out of the damn window with him. However if someone tries to forcibly snatch you away from him, they better be praying to whatever God they believe in and hope they're only stuck with a hospital bill instead of funeral service procedures. He'll get the locks changed and get a better security system for you, courtesy from Jay himself. You won't be leaving Daniel ever. You're his and he'll do anything and everything he can to ensure it stays that way...

[voltronisanobsession]

miguel finding his kid again

I wanted this to be short but I couldn’t help writing so much :/ I just ended it quickly LMAO💀💀

SPIDERVERSE CONCEPT CUZ IVE BEEN OBSESSED

OK SO!! I’ve seen a LOT of headcanons and concepts about Miguel finding his kid in a different universe and just being super protective of them, whether they’re a spider or a normal civilian. But I have a different take on it.

Imagine Miguel and his crew of spider people hunting down this new anomaly that’s been jumping between different universes, always managing to narrowly escape them. Miguel is super frustrated because not one of them is able to capture this villain? Person? Ugh he doesn’t have enough time to care with all the mayhem they’re causing.

This new anomaly, aka Reader, happened to gain these freak new abilities after the events in ITSV that allows them to tear a hole in any universe and travel through it. Of course they have no idea which universe their new powers will take them to so it’s always a 50/50 chance with it.

But the real problem that makes reader a ‘threat’ to the spider society is when they stay too long in a universe, things start slowly glitching out and causing destruction to the world. They’re just too strong that it breaks the balance of any universe they stay in. Kind of like tipping the scale sort of deal!

Which is why homeboy Miguel wants Reader detained asap before they cause a whole universe to collapse on itself. But like! It’s not the readers fault really!! They just don’t know how to control their powers and having a bunch of adults viciously chase them around really does something to a kid (looking at you Miles💀)

But constantly running away from superheroes while wearing a mask does begin painting them in a villain light💔

So imagine Reader gets cornered at last by Miguel, Jess, and some other spiders.

“Guys, I promise it’s not what it looks like. I’m just a normal person, I’m practically harmless!” They say as they bump against the building behind them, watching in horror as it begins to glitch at the contact they made.

Despite the teens voice sounding familiar, Miguel brushes it off and scoffs.

“Ha, harmless. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

Reader has no idea what the spider society is gonna do to them so they can only glitch a hole in the building behind them and run away in fear. Miguel is absolutely fed up with them and just dashes after Reader, chasing them up buildings as they glitch around. He knows he’s running out of time since this usually only happens when they’re getting ready to open a portal.

He would manage to get a hold of their hoodies sleeve before they go tumbling down to the ground, mask yanked off to properly breath in some air. Reader opens a portal, trying to stand up and stumbling a bit, looking back to Miguel.

Just as he’s about to run towards them and tackle them to the ground, his breath gets caught in his throat, heart suddenly beating erratically.

He recognizes their hair, the shape of their face, sees the fear in their eyes. He literally cannot move. Miguel is frozen at his spot, body trembling at the sight of you. His child. His dead child.

“y/n?” His voice would almost be a whisper, but reader hears. They can only stare in shock at the sound of their name, slowly backing up.

“How do you know my name?”

This dude would get some major flash backs, from his old life, to when he caused a universe’s destruction. Everything he swore to protect, to love, he failed. He failed reader twice, so it’s understandable that Miguel might be a little afraid of you.

He would not move an inch even after readers gone, Jess having to snap him back to reality. Miguel was not ready to get a smack to the face with seeing Reader again after all this time and pain.

This is what I wanted to talk about originally. After seeing his kid again, instead of growing desperate to create a new relationship with them, he’s just afraid. He’s scared of a repeat after what happened before. Miguel wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of reader, they remind him too much of what he’s lost.

I think he would step down in being about of the chase for Reader, he can’t go after them after finding out their his child. Well, in a different universe, their his child. He’s too afraid to face them again. Too afraid of the memories they bring.

It’s only when they accidentally glitch into his office that he’s forced to come face with them again. And when he does, he tries his best to get away from them💀💀💀 like bro is webbing away, powering up his platform and getting lifted up into the air away from them.

Which would totally be fine with Reader hadn’t they been chased down by this man for a couple of weeks. Why isn’t he trying to attack them? What’s the sudden mood change? Is he afraid of what they could do?

They can only clumsily climb their way up to him while asking him questions.

“Um, I know we got off the wrong foot but- urgh! Almost slipped haha! Anyways like I was saying! What’s your name? Oh and why are you trying to get away from me?”

They would be right in front of Miguel, a few feet away from where they’re hanging and he would just turn around, back facing them while they grunt in annoyance.

“You stopped going with your little gang. I know I’ve been zapping all over the place but was it something I did? Hey are you ok??”

Miguel’s body would move as he tries to stifle his quiet sobs at the sound of your voice. Oh god did he miss you. But he can’t get close to reader again. Not after what happened last time.

“I think I have tissue somewhere in my poCKEETTT-!” Miguel’s immediately webbing reader towards him as they slip off the pipe they were standing on, making a free fall

He lets out a shaky breath at the sight of you alright in his arms again. He can’t control his urges as he hugs reader tightly, letting soft apologies fall from his lips.

All this is happening and reader is just so dumbfounded. They could only awkwardly pat his arm and accept his apologies. You didn’t know he was THAT sorry for chasing you around universes.

“I missed you so much. I never wanted that to happen to you, mi corazon. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about man but thanks I guess?”

He’s sniffling as he releases you, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you by the shoulders. It’s only when he realizes reader has no idea who he is that his heart sinks.

“My dad died when I was young. Like toddler young. I never got to know him.”

You don’t know how to feel when Miguel reveals that he was your father, not the same dad from your universe, but a different variant.

This begins the weird growing relationship between the two of them. Miguel tries his best to put distance between them while Reader is just super eager to know more about him! His favorite foods, how he created this spider society, what happened to the different variant of you that clearly has him shaken up!

It would take a bit of time before Miguel slowly lets down his guard again. Allowing reader into his heart again for the third time.

[beautifulmadnesss]

"Maybe I'm Better Off Dead" Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After the death of Lucerys, Aemond takes Visenya, the surviving sister of Lucerys, back with him to Kings Landing. Warning: if its in HoTD it's in here

I stood in the hall of Storms End, waiting for what seemed like hours, my hand never moving from the hilt of my sword. Luke knew Aemond wouldn't give up, so he flew off first and I was to follow after a while.

"My Lord thank you for your time as a gracious host. I will return home now." I gave a small curtsey to Lord Baratheon and turned to leave just as the doors opened.

I knew immediately by the look on his face that something was horribly wrong. All the earlier arrogance and even the anger he had directed at my brother was gone from his face. He looked shocked and even, perhaps, a little afraid.

"Uncle, I was just-" He cut me off without even glancing at me.

"My Lord, I ask that you would detain the Lady Visenya until I bring her with me to Kings Landing." He had regained some of his composure, enough that Lord Baratheon paused.

"I cannot get involved with this war in such a treasonous manner."

"I'm afraid Rhaenyra Targaryen will be angered with you regardless after the death of her son just above your home." I charged at him so quickly that he was the only one to react in time to stop me.

"You killed my brother!" I screamed at him, attempting to strike him with my sword, but he simply overpowered me and pulled it from my grasp. It clattered along the floor as he tossed it aside. I continued to try and fight against him, but he was twice my size and it was useless.

"I already told you boy, I will not have bloodshed in my home. You will take the girl to Kings Landing at once and your brother will provide me the protection you promised." Lord Baratheon commanded.

"Let me go!" I screamed, fighting as he dragged me along with him, out into the courtyard where my dragon screeched and fought against her chains. I heard a much louder roar and turned to see Aemond's dragon, Vhagar. I saw the unmistakable crimson around her jaws and my heart clenched. "You monster!" I sobbed, feeling helpless and entirely alone. He didn't respond, but kept pulling me toward the beast that had murdered my brother and his dragon. My fighting did nothing to detour him as he lifted me onto Vhagar above him, pushing me up as he climbed until we were both sat in the saddle. He pulled out some rope from one of the bags on the saddle and bound my hands in front of me, securing them to the saddle, so I had no escape. "I hate you and I swear to you that you will die screaming." I growled at him, mustering every ounce of hatred I could, despite knowing he could feel my body trembling.

"Sōvēs." He said, ignoring my threat, and commanding his dragon to take me to the home of my enemies.

"Vhagar killed Luke and Arrax. Now you're taking me to you mother and grandsire to have them kill me. I suppose that makes you a coward." I taunted him as he carefully helped me off Vhagar with surprisingly gentle hands.

"They're not going to kill you." He said, still not looking me in the eye.

"I wish they would." I muttered, finally drawing his gaze. His eyes softened slightly as he took in my tear soaked face.

"I'm truly sorry about Luke, I didn't intend-"

"Then you're stupid. You chased a child and a young dragon with a hundred year old dragon that was one of three dragons that burned half the country during the Conquest. You don't control her. You're simply too arrogant to see that and now my brother is dead." My hands were still bound and the top of my head barely reached his sternum, but I could tell, I struck a nerve. His jaw tensed and his eyes rapidly searched my face as he considered a response.

Eventually he said, "he took my eye."

"Now you took his life. I hope your revenge was worth it." I tried to use my shoulder to wipe away the tears that had fallen. I would not cry before the King and his advisors.

That is exactly where Aemond took me. It was just before dawn as he marched me into the council room. Aegon wore the crown of his namesake as he sat in the chair directly in front of me. On his right sat his grandsire and his hand Otto Hightower, Ser Criston Cole who was presumably his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, my uncle, Lord Larys Strong, and a Lord Jasper Wyld. To his left was his mother, though she had no true seat on the council. Next to her was Grand Maester Orwyle, and finally Ser Tyland Lannistor, who had once competed for my mothers affections. I glared at each of the traitors before me with all the wrath of my birthright as a Princess.

"Uncle." I said with no move to curtsey.

"You will address your King with respect, bastard." Cole commanded.

"It's alright, she's had a difficult night I hear. Her elder brother and his dragon lay in pieces at the bottom of Shipbreaker Bay." Aegon taunted and I felt my heart twist painfully at the brutality of his words, but I steeled myself to give no reaction. "Shall we have her executed?" He suggested and I hated that I shrunk back against Aemond. Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought I felt his hand tighten against my arm.

"No. We will not kill her. There has already been enough bloodshed." Alicent spoke for the first time. "Rhaenyra will see reason and bend the knee."

"She will not and you know it. You betrayed her when you stole her throne and now you have allowed the murder of her son." I decided that if I was going to be executed then I may as well speak my mind.

"Your grace, if it pleases you, perhaps it is best to keep the girl as a prisoner, to persuade Rhaenyra to bend the knee." Otto Hightower added in support of his daughter.

"What of her dragon?" Tyland Lannister inquired.

"I shall arrange for the beast to be killed." Ser Criston replied, glancing at Aegon for approval to which he nodded.

"No!" I tried to shoot forward, but Aemond was expecting it and held me even tighter against his chest.

"We will keep her dragon chained in the dragon pit, as they already have more dragons and we could use the addition. As for Visenya, I will take her as my wife and either her mother will bend the knee and I will reside on Dragonstone with my wife or she will refuse and Visenya will remain here with me." Aemond spoke with all his usual confidence and I realized in his silence on the way over here, he was made this plan.

"I will not-"

"You will obey your King or I swear it that you will suffer the consequences. Mother, you will prepare the plans for the wedding and it will be held in two days." Aegon commanded with only the fraction of the authority he believed that he possessed.

"Your grace, are you sure that it is wise to bind your brother to a bastard?" Otto questioned.

"The hand does as the King commands and you will not question me again." Aegon spat. "Aemond, you shall keep her in your chambers. Ser Criston, double your men outside and have them to seal the windows. Dear niece, I will have the ladies prepare a dress fit for a Princess." I glared at him, though it had no effect. He held all the power here and I was simply a prisoner at his mercy.

Aemond pulled my arm and led me out of the room. We made our way through the halls without either of us saying a word until we reached his chambers. He removed his sword and left it by the door before opening the door for me to enter.

Once it shut behind us and I heard a latch snap, he turned to me. "I'm going to remove these. Don't do anything stupid, please." I didn't respond, but I also didn't try to resist as he undid the ropes around my wrists. "Tomorrow, I presume my mother will have more clothes for you, but for tonight-" He tossed me what I presumed was his small clothes. He didn't wait for my response as he went behind the screen to change his own clothes. I had only taken a small step forward to search for a weapon or an escape when he spoke again, "I would be disappointed if you didn't try, but I assure you, there is no escape and the guards have removed any weapons." I huffed in frustration, but he was right, I would not be giving up. "Are you decent or are you still searching for a plan?" He asked after a few moments.

"Just a moment," I replied. I was in fact searching for a plan and had made no moves to change. Though he seemed to be remaining on the other side of the screen, I hid around the corner as I removed my soaked dress and small clothes, only now realizing how cold I was. His small clothes fit as I expected they would, the sleeves down far past the tips of my fingers and the hem pooling in excess around my feet. "Alright." I said, poking around the corner.

He erupted into laughter the moment he saw me. I scowled in response, folding my arms, uncomfortably around my stomach while also gathering as much of the fabric as I could to cover myself. I also ensured as much distance between us as the room would allow. I had never been alone with a man, not even Daemon or my father, it was always to preserve my maidenhood for my husband. My mother had explained it to me some, as her only daughter, but she ensured me that she would share more with me before my wedding. She promised to marry me to a gentle and kind man, a man I loved. Aemond was none of those things and while he may have spared my life tonight, he also took the life of my brother.

His laughter quieted as he took in my face. "I will not harm you." He said raising his hands. "I know that you have no reason to believe that and I know that you hate me, but I swear to you that I will not force you into anything. I only suggested us to be wed so that my brother would not kill you or worse."

I bit my lip as tears fell once again, "You killed Luke and took me prisoner, why should I trust anything you have to say?"

He glanced at the door and took a few steps closer to me. I immediately gasped and shot backward, only running into the wall. He noticed and retreated quickly. His voice dropped to a whisper, "No one will believe you if you repeat this. I truly mean it, I am deeply sorry and I never meant to kill Lucerys. I will regret my actions until my very last day." I watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed. "The only thing I can do is to try to make it right with you. I know that you could not be allowed to return to Dragonstone; however, I knew that by offering up a marriage, my brother would spare your life."

I shook my head. He did tell them not to kill me, but I still couldn't trust him. I was completely alone here and if I was going to survive here, I couldn't let Aemond or anyone else trick me.

"I'm going to sleep over there, okay?" He pointed sofa between us. "You can take the bed." When I didn't respond he took a small step forward and when I didn't react, he continued forward. He was approaching the sofa from the right, so I moved to the left and continued to face him as I stepped toward the bed. Only when he was settled on the sofa did I climb onto the bed. The warmth immediately surrounded me as I cozied up under the blankets and settled back against the pillows. The relief was short-lived as I was once again confronted with how entirely alone I was. I wanted nothing more than to be comforted by my best friend, but the only offering I had was the emptiness he had left behind. He was dead and would never again be of any comfort to me or anyone else. I turned to my side and pulled one of the pillows against my chest, quickly burying my face into it to muffle the sobs that escaped. I completely broke down as I thought of the rest of my family. Had someone told my mother and brothers? Would Uncle Daemon come looking for me? Would they accept the demands of Aegon or would I be doomed to suffer alone, married to Aemond for the rest of my life? The sobs continued until I had exhausted myself into a restless sleep.

"I will go and lead Aemond away, it is me he wants. Stay here until you are sure more than enough time has passed, then depart for Dragonstone. I will meet you there." He shouted against the rain and thunder.

"Luke, no. We go together!" I begged, already knowing he was never going to listen.

"I am your brother, it is my duty to protect you. I was the one who took his eye and now I will pay for it." He placed his hands on either side of my head. "I will return home, I swear it." He gathered me into a tight hug. "Now, hurry and hide before Aemond comes." He shoved me gently away from him. We both climbed onto our dragons and with one last look took off in opposite directions. I flew just above the castle and back down to the opposite side before quickly climbing off of my dragon and returning to the hall where Lord Baratheon waited.

"Clever girl. Leave the fighting to the men and we shall see which of them survives." He looked as though the idea brought him joy while my entire body was vibrating with terror and adrenaline.

I shut my eyes and was immediately met with the picture of Luke and Arrax soaring through the pouring rain. The sky lit up with flashes of lightning and I watched as Luke frantically searched the skies around him. After another bright flash, I saw Vhagar looming over him. He quickly veered to the right before shooting upwards at a speed that only the small and nimble Arrax could achieve, perhaps the only advantage over the much larger and battle-wise, Vhagar. I could nearly feel his tempered relief as he scanned the clear skies above the storm. He visibly relaxed before devolving into a scream as Vhagar erupted from a cloud with jaws expanded wide enough to easily devour both Luke and Arrax. I watched in horror as the explosion of crimson dispersed to reveal the chunks of flesh that were all that remained of my brother and his beloved dragon. A scream ripped from my throat and I thrashed to escape as the massive beast turned to consume me next. My arms were pinned to my sides and my legs pressed against my dragon as Vhagar descended upon me.

"Visneya!"" I jolted upward, narrowly missing a shape looming above me. I scrambled backwards until I collided with the headboard, though I wasn't sure what exactly I was escaping from. "It's alright. You're alright." Aemond came into focus as I realized it was his hands on my arms, not the jaws of his dragon. and my legs were tangled up in the sheets of his bed, not the straps of my saddle.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, still panting and slightly disoriented from the nightmare. He jumped back as though I had slapped him and it was only then that I took in the genuine concern displayed through his furrowed brows and tight lips. His sapphire eye glinted against the candlelight, free from the patch he normally wore.

"I'm sorry. You were screaming and I-"

"Why didn't you let them kill me? I do not wish to live like this." I begged him. "Truly, if you are sorry, you will set me free either by my dragon or by your sword."

"I can't." He said, his voice cracking.

"Then do not pretend that you care." I spat. "You are just as much of a monster as that beast that you ride."

"Very well." He inclined his head and returned to his spot on the opposite side of the room. Though I could tell he was still watching me carefully.

As I laid back down in the bed, it was not lost on me that despite my screams, no one came to my aid. I was to be left alone with no one, but the monster who had taken the life of my brother over a childhood thirst for revenge.

Part 2

a/n: part 2? other requests?

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Thank you so much @yandere-paramour for commissioning me.

Commission description: I got in a freak accident where in hs where I was in theatre rehearsal and basically a 4x4 fell directly onto my head and I was severely concussed for the Next month. Can you write this happening to Reader and Yves cannot prevent it in time? and he's very upset and angry at himself and Reader is just absolutely fucked up and nearly helpless.

tw: injury, yandere themes

(2632 words)

He oversaw your entire hospital residency. Yves didn't trust the doctors and nurses that were there, he would be the one to administer any treatment. Yves would also be the one to give you bed baths and clean any messes you may have made due to losing some control over your bladder or bowels. Yves had seen all of you.

All he needed to do was talk to a few people, pull some strings, forge a few signatures, and erase a handful of records.

You were in deep throbbing pain, only made manageable by the painkillers you were made to eat. But you couldn't think straight either, everything is just too hazy and foggy. The slightest bit of light bothers you to no end, luckily you were vaguely aware Yves was around to be with you. He knew what to do, he always knew what to do.

You could make out your boyfriend's hushed voice as he spoke through the phone. Squinting your eyes, you could discern a blurry image of Yves holding his smartphone in one hand, and the other typing away on his laptop. You had always found his voice soothing, but it sounded like he was upset, it didn't help that you were barely registering the words he was saying.

Noticing that your drugs are slowly wearing off, Yves quickly ended the call and walked over to you in large strides. You closed your eyes and he didn't say anything, only the shuffling and rustling of what you think came from the medical equipment reached your ears. Occasionally, you open your eyes only to close them again, catching glimpses of Yves toggling with your cannula and a filled syringe.

You were too concussed to question why Yves is doing the nurses' or doctors' job, or if he was even qualified to do so. You were just glad that he was by your side.

Soon, you felt the relief and newfound wooziness from the freshly administered IV painkillers and something else. You were sent to your own world when Yves pulled himself away to clean up and put everything back in place.

You felt him caress your cheek and kiss you on the forehead. After that, you felt the mattress of your hospital bed dip as Yves got on, he tucked himself under your blanket and spooned you from behind.

It was baffling how that wooden plank dislodged itself from somewhere and hit you. Just you, out of all the people present there. He does routine checks on the places where you frequent, the theatre didn't appear to be dilapidated, nor did his numerous tests yield any conclusions that could help him predict this outcome. That damned building passed all his safety checks, likewise, your coworkers weren't a threat to your life.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. Yves was deep in thought while he tenderly rubbed the palm of your hands, it's not foul play. If it was, he already knew from the footage from a few dozen cameras he hid around the theatre. Moreover, he did his research on every single one you knew or knew you. The idea of someone trying to end your life is possible, but not plausible.

Yves had replayed that one video over and over again to try and discern the cause of the wooden plank falling from the top. It seemingly... isn't caused by anything. No matter how he digitally enhanced it, no matter how many times he watched it until it was positively seared into his brain, Yves found nothing of note. It just detached from the ceiling and fell. He frowned each time he had to remember the instant it slammed right into your head.

He even paid the theatre a visit just to investigate the site of impact itself. Bewilderingly, he could discern advanced signs of weakness in the surrounding areas that weren't there a day before but would have taken a few months to form through natural means. He swabbed everything and all his tests came out nothing. Yves was undetected by the owners of that building or the authorities because he broke in during the dead of night and scaled the beams quietly and skillfully. He balanced himself on a taut rope while he snapped pictures of the sites.

He called up people who he thought could give him advice and more information about the matter, but to no avail. It's almost like this was caused by something paranormal, there were no conceivable reasons as to how or why this happened. Even if there was, it defied the laws of physics in this reality.

Regardless of how strange and unexpected this event was, Yves was upset that he didn't think of a failsafe for this. He thought of everything but not this, because it was just so implausible.

You groan in discomfort, nothing feels right and you want your mind back now. However, there really isn't anything Yves could do and all the other relatively instantaneous healing methods he knew of would cause more significant harm than good. So, for now, you're stuck like this.

He sighed, murmuring that he was here to assure you. Well, at least this has given him a new set of data that he otherwise wouldn't go out of his way to induce and collect; there is at least that silver lining.

Yves frowned as he parted away from you, despising the cold nipping at him without you as his soft heater. But he has a lot to do, he has to maintain the life that you built for yourself while you're out of commission for at least a month.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead once more, ensuring that you were completely passed out from the drugs before taking out his phone again to make a few more important calls.

-

He transferred you to his humble abode a few days later, after determining that you were stable enough for him to resume your care outside of the hospital. You could barely walk, talk, or open your eyes, you were entirely helpless. Mumbling semi-incoherent words to try and communicate your needs and wants. Luckily for you, Yves clearly knew what you wanted just by your body language alone, so you were never too angry or frustrated that he couldn't understand you.

Unfortunately for your friends and family who would visit you from time to time, you were babbling in a language from another planet. They're either too loud, too panicky, or too pungent-smelling to be around with. It's as if the air was ruined by their presence. Your poor, concussed mind thought everyone else was just idiots and Yves is the only intelligent lifeform there.

Such an attentive man, he is. Yves would politely shoo them out of your shared bedroom when they got too much, he would then spend a few more minutes entertaining them with small talk downstairs before ultimately making them leave the property. The ones who truly care about you are glad you are under Yves's supervision.

However, if you were just lucid enough, you would question how Yves knew that you wanted a blanket from your heavy slurring, how he knew that you wanted to be hugged at that very moment by just watching you blink, how he knew what hurts by an incomprehensible grumble.

A few times, you did catch yourself realizing that you may have been completely unintelligible in verbalizing your wants. Still, he gave you exactly what you needed before you could correct yourself.

You always look forward to meal times, as he would never fail to whip up something delicious yet nutritious enough; packed chock full of vitamins, and minerals to your healing process. The best part was that he would spoon-feed you while sitting on his lap, it's ridiculously comfortable and you felt like absolute royalty. Strangely and fortunately for you, it never once felt degrading or patronizing. At most, you felt heavily nostalgic and had a strong sense of sadness that you couldn't conjure up an idea as to why. But it would all ebb away with every spoonful Yves fed you or every kiss he gave to show his appreciation for your cooperation.

Yves wouldn't allow you to use your phone or watch the television, he wouldn't allow anything in his house to emit too bright of a light. Which you were grateful for since it reduces the pain dramatically, and he would keep you fully engaged by reading stories from his library. They're always so exhilarating to hear as the protagonists always possess a wonderful personality that closely matches yours, allowing you to immerse yourself in whatever whimsical and fantastical world of his storybook. His smooth, baritone voice lulled you to sleep more times than you can count, letting you continue the story in your dreams.

Sometimes, you want to experience that particular story again, so you would pick up the book Yves read from. Only to find that its' pages are seemingly filled with illegible graphite chicken scratch. Asking him about it will lead him to tell you he wrote each and every single one of those pieces, they're all based on your proudest achievements and your life journey.

When Yves promised that he would take care of you to the fullest, he meant it. He wouldn't allow you to shower on your own, nor did he let you stand too long. He prepared a stool for you to sit on as streams of warm water washed over your nude body, Yves would roll his sleeves up and clean you up while you merely remained there in a daze; you didn't have to do anything, Yves would work up a lather on your hair and massage your scalp, he would gently scrub your skin with his smooth hands and apply an impossibly long list of skincare products that leaves your skin happy and glowing.

Yves is rarely apart away from you when you're this needy. And he enjoys it, savoring every second he spends with you. Yves would take his time styling your hair, stroking it, and collecting any strands you may have shed for data. Applying hair oil and caring for your body, he wouldn't have had the chance to do this when you're perfectly healthy, as you would either get too uncomfortable, bored, or too busy for him to do this for you.

In many ways, this accident was a blessing in disguise. For you to make up for all the missed bonding times with him; it's not that Yves is elated with you being severely concussed, but he isn't too upset over it either.

"Is this the color you want for your base?" He asked, ensuring his voice wasn't above the volume threshold. Yves brought up a bottle of nail polish in your favorite color.

You gave him a thumbs up, as nodding can cause you pain.

"What design would you like?" Yves continued asking, putting the polish away so he could begin to prep your fingernails. He had your hand limply resting on a towel draped over his thigh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but it was gibberish and garbled. But you were so used to talking like this and your brain is still healing from the damage, that you couldn't tell something was wrong.

Yves merely hummed in response while he skillfully pushed your cuticles in, they were softened by some cuticle oil he applied earlier. He needed no extra enlightenment even though you spoke in a tongue that no human could ever comprehend easily, Yves already knew what you wanted. He only asked that to give you an illusion of control.

You relaxed to the soothing music playing in the background while Yves continued with his manicure on you, skillfully using his tools to create intricate works of art on your nails. It's amazing how he could do that with laser precision in dim light.

Perhaps you tried holding a conversation with him, and you did. Albeit one-sided, Yves seemingly responds to your words normally as if he truly understood. But he was actually doing some very complex "guesswork" that was apparently accurate all the time. However, if there is one thing for certain, he memorizes all the sounds that left your mouth and movements you made no matter how random or unnecessary.

If thinks that you're getting too under-stimulated, he will recite one of the many stories he wrote for you to listen to and immerse yourself in. Yet, he wouldn't get distracted, continuing his work with elegance and expertise.

You were mesmerized by how he would hold his brush, how he would administer a graceful stroke, and how he would do the details of such an impossibly beautiful masterpiece.

You smiled and cheered when you saw your nails, all that there was left for you to do was wait for the polish to dry. The corners of his lips were also pulled up into a pleased grin, feeling absolutely delighted to see you beaming like that. He couldn't resist pecking you on the apples of your cheeks, as he might accidentally squeeze you out of his cuteness aggression if he didn't at least expel some of it.

He cleaned up after himself and put the items away. You were still giddy over your nails and he was in joy too. Yves then sat right next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and letting his silky, jet-black hair tickle you in the nose.

Yves closed his eyes and relaxed at the sound of your heavenly giggles, nuzzling his head further into the side of your neck to keep the playfulness alive. He would occasionally litter your shoulder with kisses too.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms back down to a gentle lull, where you would be lying on his lap as Yves runs his fingers through your hair. A soft smile graced his face as he watched you stare at his artwork, feeling flattered and honored that you liked it.

Yves always knew the potential of himself enjoying the aftermath of such a tragedy happening to you was there. But he didn't anticipate that he loved it this much. As bad as it sounds, Yves is unwilling to think about the time when you will inevitably heal and leave him alone all over again to live your life.

His smile faltered a bit thinking how you're most likely going to go back to that theatre to work again, cutting the time that he's used to have with you short by a drastic amount. He is going to miss tender moments like these so awfully...

Yves paused when he noticed that you drifted into slumberland, softly breathing as your lips were slightly parted and drool running down the sides of your mouth. Yves chuckled a bit as he wiped them away with his thumb.

He blinked as he thought about the situation at hand even more.

You are such a strong, resilient person, who endured far worse than a measly headache. And it seems like your recovery process isn't too agonizing for you to bear, you're fine.

And, you would definitely be fine if Yves extended that duration for a few more weeks; he needs to make sure that you're fully healed before allowing you to go back into the real world. You would also be fine to consume a bit more sugar than usual, he knows you better than yourself.

Yves brought your hands and grazed his fingertips against your nails to see if it was fully dried. They were, and he gave them each a kiss.

The next few hours were spent with Yves watching you sleep, his green eyes were unblinkingly trained on you.

[sailing-ever-west]

I need Pudding to be on the Sunny for a period of time but pointedly ignore Sanji whenever possible which she claims is to make him feel jealous but is honestly more so she herself can keep a modicum of composure,, and then gradually befriend the rest of the crew.

Luffy is probably the easiest. He's like "are you gonna try to hurt Sanji? >:(" and she's like "no uwu" and he's like Ok :)👍 which Zoro and Nami yell at him for but they know it's too late to do anything about it. Luffy thinks it's cool that she has multiple eyes like a bug and is definitely not going to argue with an on-board pastry supplier.

Chopper is similarly easy bc he cannot resist sweets. He spends .5 minutes being mad at her and then she gives him a chocolate and he's out for the count.

Zoro doesn't care a whole lot. He doesn't trust her, but he's not afraid of her. He just lets her do her thing, knowing if she tries to hurt anyone he'll stab her. He's just glad she and the cook aren't currently fawning over each other every second. He's witnessed her have a few nosebleeds despite her attempts to avoid him and is NOT sticking his finger into that beehive. As time goes on they complain about Sanji together out loud which makes the cook lose his mind.

Nami is much harder; Pudding is on very thin ice with her at first. If she had trouble forgiving Sanji for how he acted, she has even more trouble forgiving Pudding who was a large cause of the issue. It's also worse because Pudding thinks Nami is trying to claim Sanji when she's just being protective,,, so they definitely fight at first. But before long, Nami starts to see that Pudding is actually just like Sanji, emotional and starved for validation, (and maybe a little like herself as well, manipulating others for years in service of cruel pirates) and makes an effort to befriend her instead. Pudding, for her part, begins to understand that Sanji is just a natural giver who treats all women like treasures, and understands why Nami would be wary of people taking advantage of him. By the time they drop Pudding off they're pretty much best friends. Inevitable really bc Nami wins with women always.

Usopp is just terrified of her and she thinks it's funny so she actively exaggerates her creepy factor and plays pranks on him. She did not anticipate Usopp being a prank war master. They settle as worthy adversaries.

Robin sees herself in Pudding immediately, and subtly works her way into becoming a sort of mother figure to her. Pudding angrily resists being cared for like a cat in a bathtub but in the end she melts, and ends up crying in Robin's arms about all the horrors she's been through. Robin gets emotional as well, thinking how much she would've wanted this when she was her age.

Brook immediately goes grandpa mode. After his particular experiences with Big Mom, he feels terrible for Pudding having to be raised by her. While hurting Sanji was a horrible thing to do, he understands that she was working under the control of a mother who treated her like a plaything. So he does his best to teach her the pirate ways of freedom and fun and just let her be a teenager.

Franky probably just hypes her up a lot and calls her little sis which feels suspiciously friendly at first, but she eventually realizes he is just a very earnest idiot. She asks him questions about grilling and mechanics just to watch him get excited, and he asks if the third eye gives a better vision range because if so he might add one.

Jinbe is wary of her at first, having just severed all loyalty to Big Mom and understanding the type of threat she and her family pose, but it doesn't take long before he sees that Pudding is just as young and naive as the rest of the Strawhats and feels very protective over her.

Overall she experiences a ton of life lessons over the span of maybe a month or two, and by the end finally acknowledges Sanji and they're more honest with each other, her admitting her feelings for him are actually quite genuine, and him admitting that although he really cares about her he knows she needs time to live life on her own before they meet again. And so, on bittersweet but better terms, they part.

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.3k

Part 4/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"PYLADES: I'll take care of you.

ORESTES: It's rotten work.

PYLADES: Not to me. Not if it's you." - Anne Carson

Warning: Panic attack (kind of?)

Masterlist

A whisper, faint at first, but growing louder with each passing second. It curled around the base of your skull, a sinister caress that sent beads of sweat trickling down your spine. That voice, you knew it all too well - it had haunted the edges of your consciousness ever since that fateful day when you first came into contact with the Hexcore.

"Mila..." it hissed, the breathy syllables of your name elongated and distorted. "You cannot resist me forever. I am a part of you now, just as surely as the teeth in your skull and the organs in your belly."

You shuddered, your fingers tightening around Viktor's as you fought against the invasive presence worming its way into your thoughts. The Hexcore's voice was poison, sweet and almost sentimental as it dripped honeyed promises into your mind.

No, you thought to yourself, tucking your face into Viktor’s chest - the blue jolts of your magic that sustained him tickling your cheek. I won't let you control me. I won't let you turn me into a monster.

The Hexcore's laughter echoed through your ears, a grating, discordant sound that set your teeth on edge. "Oh, my dear, sweet Mila," it purred, the false affection in its tone making your skin crawl. "You already are a monster. The power within you and the runes that mark your flesh are my gift to you, my claim upon your soul. You belong to me now, whether you like it or not."

And just as abruptly as it had appeared, the presence dissipated, leaving only a faint echo of its malicious laughter behind.

You shook your head vigorously, the cold sweat that had formed along your skin settling at the small of your back, your unease sitting in the pit of your stomach like lead.

You didn’t have the energy or ability to tell Viktor at that moment. You would later, of course, you weren’t about to get in the habit of keeping secrets from him. But in that particular instance, the gravity of the situation demanded a level-headed approach. You needed to have your wits about you when you inevitably broke the news that the Hexcore was finally awake and able to speak to you.

Forcing a smile, you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. "We should get some rest," you whispered, trailing your fingers along the line of his jaw, metal meeting flesh. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired after all that.”

Viktor studied your face for a moment, searching as if he could sense the unspoken anxiety that churned beneath the surface. But he simply nodded, his arms tightening as he pulled you close.

“Sweet dreams, lásko,” he said as you nestled into his embrace, letting your eyes drift closed. Exhaustion tugged at your limbs, the fear, the magic, the ever-present threat of the Hexcore - it all coalesced into a bone-deep weariness that settled into your marrow.

“Lásko,” you mumbled, feeling clumsy in your pronunciation, “what does it mean?”

“Love. I think it suits you.” His voice rumbled low in his throat, and your heart warmed. Yes, it suited you just fine.

The city of Piltover was known for its mild climate, never experiencing any terrible heat waves. Even the Undercity, often considered a grimy and crowded place, shared in this moderate weather. The air was comfortable, warm enough not to necessitate heavy winter coats, but cool enough that one could comfortably wear shorts without sweating through them.

It seemed, somewhere in the middle of the night, that had all changed.

Your skin was slick with sweat, a thin layer of moisture coating every inch of your body. The heat radiating from within was suffocating, as if you had been trapped in an overheated sauna for hours on end. Your mind felt hazy and disoriented, like a fog had settled over it, making it difficult to think clearly - or at all. Every breath was laboured and each movement felt like an overburdened task. You groaned your discomfort as you vaguely registered movement beside you - or perhaps under you, it was difficult to tell - a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently, saying something you couldn’t make out. 

Your eyelids struggled to open as if Jayce’s heavy training equipment weighed them down. The world remained blurry and unfocused. The hand moved to your forehead, then slid behind your ears, a noise of dismay accompanying each touch. 

A blessedly cold and damp sensation pressed against your forehead, drawing a shuddering sigh of relief from your parched lips. The cool sensation was a blessing against the feverish heat that radiated through you, chasing away the worst of the discomfort.

Through the haze of exhaustion and sickness, you could just make out Viktor's face hovering above you, pinched with worry as he adjusted the cool compress. His lips moved, forming words you couldn't quite grasp, their meaning slipping through your fingers like wisps of smoke. But the cadence of his voice, low and soothing, washed over you like a gentle tide, lulling you back towards the welcoming pull of sleep.

Darkness and light danced across your vision, a technicoloured display that swirled and bled together like watercolour paint on a well-loved palatte. Faces, familiar yet strange, hovered at the edges of your sight, their features fuzzy and indistinct. Viktor's voice, a distant echo, threaded through the haze, a line tethering you to the waking world even as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Time lost all meaning, minutes and hours bleeding together until you could no longer distinguish one from the other. The fever burned through you, a raging inferno that consumed everything in its path, leaving only ashes and confusion. Your thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind, fragmented and fleeting, impossible to grasp for more than a moment before they slipped away again.

In the brief moments of clarity, you could feel the cool press of a damp cloth against your forehead, the gentle touch of Viktor's hands as he tended to you with a devotion that made your heart ache. His fingers, flesh and metal, brushed against your cheek, your hair, your lips, each touch a silent promise that he would see you through this trial no matter what it took.

But even his presence could not chase away the visions that haunted your fevered dreams. The Hexcore's whispers, once a distant murmur, now roared in your ears like a monstrous beast, drowning out all other sounds. Its seductive and insidious voice filled your mind with images of power and destruction, of a world remade in your image.

You saw yourself, wreathed in violet light, your eyes glowing with an otherworldly radiance as you stood at the center of a whirlwind of energy. The runes that marked your skin pulsed and writhed, alive with the Hexcore's nefarious power. And at your feet, kneeling in subjugation, were the people of Runeterra, their faces upturned in a mix of awe and terror.

"This is your destiny," the Hexcore purred, its voice a slimy caress against the shell of your ear. "Embrace it, and all the world will be yours to command. You would have the power to keep Viktor alive. Forever."

You wanted to scream, to rage against the lies that poured like cyanide into your mind. But your voice was lost, swallowed up by the fever. Your body, once your own, now felt like a foreign thing, a vessel for the Hexcore. And you had done it all to yourself.

Eerie silence greeted you. Gone was the comforting buzz of Viktor’s presence, the floorboards quiet without his movement. Panic leaped into your throat, adrenaline mixing with the Shimmer in your veins and propelling you upwards - though it did little to stop your head from spinning or your vision from spotting out. Your shoulder collided with a wall, sending a dull thud reverberating through your body. But you persevered, pushing onward.

As far as you could tell with your limited sight, the room was empty. 

“Viktor,” you tried to shout, but it came out as a barely intelligible rasp.

No one answered your call.

With shaking limbs, you pushed yourself away from the wall, struggling to maintain your balance as you stumbled towards the door. Your movements were unsteady, like a puppet controlled by an unskilled hand. The world tilted and spun around you, a dizzying spread of muted colours and shifting shadows that made your stomach churn and your head throb.

Each step took more effort than it should, your body heavy and uncooperative as you forced it to move. The fever hadn’t left, turning your blood to acid and your skin to paper-thin parchment stretched over brittle bones. Sweat beaded on your brow, salty trails trickling down your face and stinging your eyes, but you blinked them away, your gaze fixed on the door with single-minded determination.

Just a few more steps, you told yourself, just a few more and you would be out of this room, out of this suffocating silence and into the world beyond where surely Viktor would be waiting for you. He wouldn't leave you, not like this, not when you needed him most.

But as you reached for the doorknob, your fingers brushing against the handle, you pulled up short. There, carved into the dust and cracking paint of the door, were words that made your heart stutter and your lungs empty.

Back soon, stay calm. -V

The letters were unmistakably Viktor's, the precise, angular strokes of his handwriting as familiar to you as your own. He had left you, slipped out while you were lost in the throes of your fever dreams, off to find…you didn’t know, but it had to be important, or else you were sure he wouldn’t have gone. Medicine, most likely, something to break the fever.

A sob welled up in your throat, equal parts relief and despair. He hadn't abandoned you, not truly. But the thought of him out there, alone and unprotected, while you lay helpless and weak, sent a hot spike of fear through your chest. What if something happened to him? What if he encountered trouble?

Gritting your teeth, you twisted the doorknob, the rough wood biting into your palm as you wrenched it open. The hallway beyond was a yawning chasm, the stairs a treacherous descent.

Your legs gave out beneath you, your body crumpling like a withering flower, its petals wilting and its stem bowing. The hard floor rushed up to meet you, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your already aching limbs as you collapsed against the doorframe. It pressed into your spine, digging into your shoulder blades.

An all-consuming panic clawed at your throat, constricting it with each short gasping breath. Your chest heaved as if trying to push out the fear that threatened to choke you. Viktor was out there, alone and vulnerable, while you were too weak even to stand, let alone go after him.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and stinging as they spilled down your cheeks. The salt mingled with the sweat that already coated your skin, leaving bitter tracks through the grim. A guttural sob tore itself from your throat, raw and ragged, a sound of pure despair that echoed in the empty hallway.

What if something happened to him? What if he encountered trouble? Ran into someone who meant him harm?

As despair threatened to overwhelm you, a strange feeling tickled at the edges of your awareness. It started as a gentle brushing against your legs, like the whisper of a soft breeze through tall grass. But as the seconds ticked by, the sensation grew more insistent, more tangible, until you could no longer ignore it. With great effort, you lifted your head, your gaze drifting down to your legs.

Vines, thick and green, slithered up your body, curling around your legs like living ropes. Each tendril seemed to sprout from the floorboards beneath you, pushing through the cracks and crevices as if answering some unspoken call.

With a frantic burst of energy, you attempted to scramble away, your fingers clawing at the ground as you desperately tried to push yourself up and out of their reach. But your body refused to cooperate, your limbs heavy and unresponsive as the vines continued their relentless advance.

They wound their way up your torso, slipping beneath your shirt and curling around your waist like a lover's embrace. The sensation was unusual, not quite painful but not entirely comfortable either. It was as if the vines were searching for something, probing and prodding at your skin as they sought out the hidden pathways of your body.

They climbed higher and higher, winding around your chest, your shoulders, your neck. Tendrils brushed against your face like serpents seeking warmth, tracing the curve of your cheekbones, the arch of your brows, the soft swell of your lips.

Your arms, once free, were now pinned to your sides, the vines wrapping around them in a tight, unyielding grip. Your legs, already weak and unsteady, were now completely immobilized, anchored to the floor by the writhing mass of greenery that had sprouted up around you. Even your head, which had lolled to the side in your exhaustion, was now held fast, the vines cradling your skull in a vice-like grip. You tried to twist away, to wrench your head to the side, but their grip was unyielding, holding you fast as they explored every contour of your features.

Your breath came in quick, sharp gasps as the vines tightened their hold, constricting around your chest like a serpent's coils. Each inhale was a struggle, your lungs burning with the effort as you fought against the crushing pressure. Stars danced at the edges of your vision, bright pinpricks of light that flickered and swam in the gathering darkness.

And still, the vines grew, their tendrils weaving together into a living cocoon that enveloped your entire body. They pressed against your skin, cool and slightly damp, their touch both soothing and terrifying in equal measure. It was as if they were trying to absorb you, to draw you in and never let you go.

And you were powerless to stop them.

Next Chapter

A/N: Did anyone ask for a cliffhanger? No? Please forgive me.

You can join us in the discord chat and berate me for my evils.

[poppystheories]

An Eye Theory

There's been a lot of debate, over the years, about whether Mana ever loved "Allen".

In the flashback, we clearly see Mana is a compassionate man who wanted to help a kid in a bad situation; in his final moments as himself, he wanted to take Red away from the circus with him. He wanted them to leave together. But that was compassion, not love.

And then Apocryphos used Red's Innocence to shatter his mind. After that, it's very much a question of if Mana was even capable of loving "Allen", as mentally unstable as he was. From what we've seen, he was very affectionate, and though he got Allen the dog and Red the kid mixed up, he eventually went on to introduce "Allen" to the symbols. You don't try to teach a dog to read your secret code. He understood "Allen" was a person, but more than that, we don't really know.

But the soul the Earl excised out of himself and had Allen put into an Akuma did some stuff that doesn't line up with it being the soul of a completely clueless man.

If we go on the assumption that the Earl was trying to rid Mana of any inconvenient memories through this process, we can assume Akuma!Mana is a conglomerate of just more than "Mana Walker". My best guess is that when the Earl excised Akuma!Mana, the memories he was trying to get rid of included stuff that re-stabilized Mana Walker, including knowledge of what actually happened when he met Red. If we consider that as a possibility, a lot of other things become more explicable.

First: If he remembered their first meeting, Akuma!Mana could know that "Allen" was an accomodator with an already activated Innocence capable of combat, perfectly able to destroy a level 0. He also would know “Allen” was fated to be an exorcist, and the threat that Akuma therefore pose.

Second: Akuma!Mana could have gained access to some of the original Mana's knowledge, including stuff about the Earl, Akuma, and souls.

Akuma!Mana said the usual Akuma stuff, and did the usual Akuma stuff, which Akuma cannot seem to help. But Akuma!Mana also did more than that: the "I'll curse you!" wasn't just bluster. He actually did manage to "curse" Allen, which the Earl clearly didn't know about. The Earl must not have thought the Akuma even capable of it, so he certainly wasn't making the Akuma do that specifically.

Mana couldn't control all the instincts of the Akuma, but he could use them to his own advantage.

As evidence, we gotta go on a bit of a tangent:

In the second volume, Hoshino mentions a play that inspired Lala and Gozul. The play goes like this: Old servant falls in love with high-class young lady. She plays with his feelings and he dies. As a vengeful spirit, he decides to curse her. But in the end, he changes his mind, and decides that as a spirit, he'd rather protect her instead, so long as she promises to remember him.

I've seen people dismiss this play in the analysis of DGM before, because let's be real, the premise here is kinda creepy. And it doesn't seem to actually have much to do with Lala and Gozul besides the aesthetic of "old man" and "beautiful maiden".

But the concept of a vengeful spirit saying they'll curse someone they once loved, only to overcome their negative feelings and decide to protect that person instead is present in the story, in a pair of characters the deliberately parallel Lala and Gozul.

Or maybe even more than one pair of characters that parallel Lala and Gozul.

We'll be focusing on Mana and Allen for now though.

I pointed out before that Akuma!Mana didn't need prompting by the Earl to attack, unlike Claire. I think Mana was using the programming of the Akuma to his advantage; if he attacked, he could place the anchor (the star) he'll need on Allen's face without the Earl finding his actions suspicious, and Allen's Innocence would activate to protect Allen, destroying the Akuma shell and freeing his soul to latch on to that anchor.

This gave Allen the ability to see souls, probably because it was Mana's power originally, ensuring Allen would be protected in the future. Thanks to this ability, most of the risk of being ambushed as an exorcist is minimized, so Allen’s career as an exorcist would be relatively safer.

Mana was the "vengeful spirit" (aka Akuma) that decided to become a guardian spirit of someone he loved instead, just like in the play. Allen is "younger loved one" that, in exchange for that protection, must carry Mana's memory.

But it's not just Mana's memory Allen carries, but Nea's too. Nea's also a spirit haunting a loved one, but he hasn't decided whether he wants to destroy or protect yet.

Of course, there’s no guarantee any of this is true. I might be completely off base here. But it’s my current theory, and I’m gonna roll with it, because it does explain a lot of things.

And, most importantly, means Akuma!Mana did mean it when he said he loved “Allen”.

[ctheathy]

I'm meat munching Secret history tails rn.. could I request a secret history tails x Hyper cuddly! Reader a reader who is just very hyper definitely not allowed to have coffee but there looks are deceiving and They know how to fight really well so let's just say somebody tries to fight them and they just Kick there Butt and there completely whipped for tails- Like they would do anything he tell them to do kinda like harley quinn with the joker The reader just joins in on his Chaos sometimes or if he just tells them to hand him stuff they would do it in a heartbeat

Secret History Tails w/ Hyper cuddly!Darling

Secret History Tails x Reader

Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Mmm smegsy lipbite😏

Author’s note : HA! Gotta love pampering this unstable a$$ fox. Let’s just not add in on the toxic dynamic between Harley and the Joker, though😭 you two are wholesome babey’s with one another on this blog.

This is malewife x girlboss dynamic fr.

The request had it stated, but in case anybody just so happened to miss it, SH Tails from There’s Something About Amy was chosen

SH Tails/Reader [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Amy’s brainwashing is mentioned •

୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.

Right off the bat, he just doesn’t understand how he got so lucky to end up with somebody such as yourself. To him, you truly are like an angel. And he doesn’t behave indifferently about that fact either. You’re like an absolute sunshine in comparison to the horrors they call the multiverse, as if you are the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He praises you to no end as he covers you in tender and passionate kisses, gently holding onto you as you make your ways through the multiverse. I can see TSAA Tails being a lot more mentally available and composed rather than his past self back in Secret Histories. He’s more mature now and has complete control over the situation you currently find yourselves in, making him slightly less vulnerable. He oftentimes tries to brush off your acts of service, telling you it’s not necessary at all-! You’re his beloved, after all. But he cannot help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever you do manage to get the job done for him. But due to his determined nature, he tends to give you back a favour for your own self every single time.

Despite the fact that you might have enough control over your surroundings and are physically prepared and capable when it comes to self defense besides the potential threats, Tails cannot help but remain the same overprotective fox that he always has been. He’ll allow you to take the reins, but not without quietly observing from a distance, keeping a close eye on you and jump in at a moment’s notice when he notices one single hint of struggle. He doesn’t wish to underestimate your strength, knowing it has the capability of upsetting you, but he wants you safe so.damn.badly. The man wouldn’t know what on Mobius to do with himself if he allowed you to get hurt in one way or another.

He most likely just lets out a singular chuckle of his own at your hyper demeanour and allows you to cling to him with no hesitance. You truly are an endearing soul in his eyes. And how you’re so dead set on keeping him in high priority and ensure his safety wherever you both go, it truly just results in him being all wrapped around your little finger if you look deeper into it. And despite the risk of his position, he completely allows it to happen too. He trusts you with all his might and the things you do for him among the dimensions only makes that devotion grow even stronger. I could for example see you protecting the fox with your life whenever you both end up in a world that hold an endangered environment. You just insist and ensure he stays in the back while you deal with the little issue yourself, leaving him to stare in awe at your form in combat.

I certainly believe you’d get along with Amy quite a lot aswell. Especially when being in similar positions when it comes to travelling through the multiverse and often needing Tails to guide you two through the place, the both of you are able to relate a lot on your current conditions. You did feel a little bad for letting Amy be brainwashed like she had been though, but then again, it was what he desired for the quest after all. And regrettably saying, your priorities just seem to find themselves in the wrong direction. You try your best to not let the dimensions get to your head, but it can become hard due to just how much your companions alone have been caught up in it over the course of time.

୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.

[ikigainn]

A Delicate Touch | Dazai Osamu

dazai x reader

warnings: obsession with dazai’s hands, slight mention of suicidal tendencies. i’m sorry this might be so bad.

We’re in a theater watching a play for our undercover mission today. An actor has been getting threats, and it was our job to investigate. Is it hot because of my nervousness about this mission? Or is it him?

It’s the proximity of our hands that's doing this to me. There’s no way that I would be affected by Dazai Osamu. His beautiful, delicate hands were adorned by silver rings around each thin, long finger. He left the bandages and his usual attire today, opting for a formal black suit (that still covered all of him) and slicked-back hair. We were pretending to be a couple in order to avoid any suspicion. His nails were trimmed clean, and the veins—it’s definitely the veins’ fault. I’m letting my hormones control me. Maybe I am starved by a touch (or maybe I’m only starved by his). His fingers are moving in a slow circle on his left knee, the tips of his fingers touching my knee, exposed by my dress. It’s just a slight touch; I doubt he’s even noticing what he’s doing (or maybe he is; he is a wicked devil after all). But every contact makes me feel like my skin is on fire. I try resting my hands on my lap to steer him away. It doesn’t work. Then I exhaled a deep breath, trying to stay away from him. He noticed the sudden distance and looked up at me questioningly, raising a brow. Why does he have to look so dazzling? I turn my head, trying to ignore his annoying presence. Suddenly I feel warm fingers, joined by the coldness of cool metal slowly enclosing my right hand that rests on my lap. I know that it’s him; no one could make me feel on fire like he does. His fingers slid forward between the valleys of my fingers. It’s getting harder to breathe. Suddenly, his thumb brushed over my wrist, feeling my heartbeat.

"Are you doing well, darling?", he asked, smiling that beautiful crooked smile. He leaned in, lips brushing over my ear, whispering, "I’m here for you; it’s always me and you, y/n." What could he possibly mean by that? Why is he driving me crazy? He still didn’t let go of my hand. 

Instead, he started softly sliding the top of his knuckles over my palm and then horizontally across my heart line. The touch of the sudden cool metal created goosebumps (or maybe it’s just his touch?). My hands started sweating. It’s only him who does this to me. Still.. he’s not letting go. I can feel his brown eyes lazily staring at me. I glanced at him briefly, catching his curious gaze. He’s testing me. Inspecting me. Trying to see my reaction and how much he’s affecting me. I’m definitely not affected whatsoever by Dazai Osamu. Men like him don’t belong with me. He’s broken, questionable, and he possibly cannot be staring at someone with that much lo— I mean admiration—in his eyes. He looks at me like I’m the death he so longs for. Maybe he’s just doing this for our undercover act. But why does it feel so real? I could feel his other hand gently sliding beneath mine to trap it. He doesn’t want me to let go. Then his forefinger starts drawing a circle on my palm. Such a simple touch, but my heart is on the verge of exploding. His middle finger joins his forefinger, still drawing a circle. Then his fingers enclose my wrist, and his thumb starts stroking my wrist up and down. What the hell is he doing? He returns his forefinger and middle finger and changes the pattern.. to lines? He lets me go, yet I still feel the fire of his touch on my hand. I realize that the play has ended, and there aren’t any signs of an enemy. "It was such a great play, am I right darling?" He smirked at me. He did this on purpose, utilizing the mission.. and our proximity.. Why though? .. Little did I realize later, the lines he wrote on my hand represented the kanji symbol of love..