#also I was asked to draw the side of his face before scarring so here u go

[juunipupu]

Knight and a secret to share

[zae-heeyyy]

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

[potatoplace]

Gone

Azriel x Archeron!Reader (deceased), Elriel

the 1 | alternate endings: betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the wake of your death, Azriel loses everything. And still, you're dead and gone, an aching void felt in those around you.

Warnings: character death (suicide), dead body of reader, grieving, fuck Azriel

Words: ~2.5k

Author's Note: Yes, the title comes from Rosé's 'Gone'. Go listen to it RIGHT NOW. I would say that even without this fic tho lol love me some Rosie 🫶 So here's the first one of the second parts to the 1! I hope you guys like it, and I hope I did all of the characters' reactions justice (especially Miss Feyre) - ALSO thank you for all the love you've given the 1! It was born out of my own crappy day, I'm happy something good came out of it ☺️

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Azriel quickly made his way back to Elain, doing his best to put the interaction he had just had with you behind him.

His mate.

Elain’s sister… That’s the only way he had ever thought of you.

As a human you had been… Less than average. Hard to look at.

At least in comparison to Elain.

Elain was a breath of fresh air, so lovely and innocent and so entirely unlike him.

And turned fae, she was even more breathtaking.

He had waited for her to realize how truly damaged and scarred he was, and not just on the outside. How entirely unworthy of her he was.

But she hadn’t. She had seen him, loved him, even with how broken he was on the inside.

And he had meant his words to Nesta, when he had said no one would ever compare to Elain, even his mate.

And he was right. You didn’t compare to her.

But as he reached her side and wrapped his arm around his lovely Elain, he couldn’t help but… wonder.

Had he just made a mistake in rejecting the bond so easily?

His free hand came to rub at his chest, which felt like it was being scraped with a knife, a dull, throbbing pain.

“Are you alright?” Elain’s sweet voice asked, and he tilted his head to look down at her.

A small smile graced his lips. “Of course, sweetheart. Come to the balcony with me, will you?”

The ring he had selected for Elain lay in a white velvet box, tucked safely in his jacket pocket. It was a beautiful ring, a silver band inlaid with glittering diamonds, and a stunning pink diamond as the centerpiece.

You had told him that Elain had always wanted a pink diamond ring.

He hoped you weren’t lying, trying to sabotage his proposal.

He wouldn’t put it past you, mating bonds do make fae rather territorial. Even if Elain is your sister.

He shook the thought out of his head, you had never been anything but kind. Boring, yes. Quiet, yes. But always kind.

Azriel smiled at Elain once they reached the balcony, and they stared out over Velaris together for a moment while he gathered his courage.

“Elain,” he said softly, drawing her gaze to him.

“Yes, love?” Elain asked, her lips curving upwards, as if she knew what was coming.

Azriel dropped to one knee and pulled the box from his jacket, reveling in how Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Elain, I have loved you for so long now. In fact, I believe I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you all that time ago, in the human lands. Never did I think that I would have the honor of calling you mine, even once. But now, knowing how wonderful you are, I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. Elain,” he said, cracking open the box and showing her the ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were streaming down Elain’s face as she beamed down at him. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” She squealed, and Azriel quickly slipped the ring onto her left hand before taking her in his arms and spinning her around. “I love you so much, Az. And how did you know I wanted a pink diamond?” Elain asked once he had set her down, giving her time to admire her new ring.

“Oh, I may have asked Y/N for advice on what you’ve always wanted,” Azriel said.

“Ah, that was smart-”

“Oh my gods!” Feyre screamed, cutting Elain off and causing the pair to look over to her.

“What is it, Feyre?” Rhys asked worriedly, panic on his face after Feyre’s outburst.

Feyre took off running before answering, Rhys following immediately, and the rest of the inner circle exchanged looks before sprinting after them, leaving the confused citizens of Velaris behind.

They skidded to a stop at a balcony, where Feyre was leaning over it, sobbing.

“No!” She screamed, a guttural cry leaving her lips as she collapsed to the floor, Rhys barely catching her in time as she passed out in his arms.

“What is it, Feyre?” Nesta asked as she walked over to the balcony, glancing over the side herself. “Mother above! Y/N!” Nesta yelled, the first time that Azriel had heard true, heart wrenching pain in her voice, and she collapsed next to Feyre, tears streaming down her face.

Y/N?

But what would be wrong with Y/N? Azriel had left her in the hallway, not ten minutes before now.

Elain tugged him over to the balcony, her heart rate picking up just from the reactions of her sisters. When she peeked over the side, a scream left her lips, more wounded and hurt than Azriel thought she would ever sound. “Y/N!” Elain cried as she fell next to her sisters, the three of them huddled together once Feyre came to a moment later, her sobs picking up instantly, her hands clutching at her chest.

Azriel dared a glance over the side, his heart dropping to his stomach when he saw it.

Saw you.

Lying there, unmoving, darkness surrounding your body.

He gasped and stumbled back from the balcony, reality hitting him.

Dead.

You were dead.

You were his mate and you were dead!

Tears streamed down his face, and he couldn’t tell exactly what happened next, but soon enough Cassian was flying back up from the ground, your limp, unmoving body in his arms.

The three sisters’ sobs grew louder when they saw you up close, the three of them surrounding your body where Cassian had gently placed it on the floor. Feyre sat with your head resting in her lap, her hands running through your hair as she sobbed. Azriel watched on, a hand covering his mouth as he beheld your lifeless form.

“Why…? Why would she do this?” Feyre cried, resting her head on Rhys’s shoulder when he sat next to her. “I don’t understand, she was fine just a little bit ago…”

Azriel couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.

“I…” He started, but stopped before he got it out.

Nesta’s head whipped towards him, though. “You…? You what, Azriel?” She snapped.

All eyes followed suit, snapping to Azriel’s form, taking in the tears on his cheeks.

“I… Y/N is… was… my…”

“Spit it out,” Nesta growled, her voice icy with rage and grief.

“Y/N was my mate,” Azriel finally whispered.

Everyone gasped, but it was Elain’s face that broke his heart.

“Y/N was… I don’t understand,” Feyre said softly, watery eyes meeting Azriel’s. “What… What happened?” She asked between teary breaths.

“She… She told me, when she had asked to speak with me, Elain.”

“And?” The sharp question came from Rhys.

Azriel hesitated, but the pressure of all those teary eyes had him answering. “I rejected the bond. Just as I said I would.”

“You what?!” Nesta screeched as she launched her body towards him, only stopped by Cassian’s strong arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from killing his brother. “You found out about the bond and rejected it in the same night?! In less than ten minutes?!”

Feyre was glaring at him, tears streaming down her face, and he was sure that if she wasn’t still cradling your head in her lap that she would be eviscerating him with Nesta’s help.

And Elain… She was staring at him with such sorrow in her eyes, the love that had been shining in them mere minutes before all but gone.

“I… I thought that it was what I should do, I love Elain,” Azriel explained, but he could tell it was the wrong words by everyone’s shock and disgust.

“So you turned down the bond? Just like that? You couldn’t even think about it? When it was Y/N?!” Nesta yelled, her struggles against her mate renewed with her outrage. “What in the hells is wrong with you?” She snarled, silver flames bursting from her fingers.

“You should go, Azriel,” Feyre said quietly, the calm before the storm. And he didn’t want to be here when his High Lady turned into a raging hurricane.

His gaze snapped to Elain, who had turned away from him, instead focusing on where her fingers were caressing your rapidly paling face.

“Az. Just, go home. Okay?” Cassian suggested, his own expression harder than it normally appeared, but still softer than everyone else around them.

Mor and Amren, who had been quiet throughout the ordeal, gave him pitying looks as he turned to leave, his wings drooping to touch the ground.

The three sisters wails grew in volume as he left them, Feyre’s the loudest among them as she mourned her twin, who she’d already lost in death once before, and nearly again to the terror that was the Cauldron.

He could hear the concerned chatter of the citizens of Velaris nearby, a few people daring to venture into the disallowed areas of the House to see what all the commotion had been about. Quickly, Azriel made his way to another quiet balcony, launching himself into the sky.

Tears were still falling from his eyes when he landed in front of his and Elain’s cottage- though he wasn’t sure if he should even call it that anymore.

She still said yes, his shadows whispered to him quietly, their voices tinged with sadness. But… Our mate… they wept softly, coiling tightly around him.

Azriel threw the door open, making a beeline for the bedroom. He collapsed by the foot of the bed, a sob ripping from his throat.

His mate. Gone.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Three days later and his mate was being lowered into the ground, her decoratively carved wooden casket slowly taking her to her final resting place.

His mate. Dead.

It had been three days since he and Elain had spoken, though they had laid next to each other in silence each night when Elain came home from planning the funeral and mourning in the company of her remaining sisters.

She looked beautiful today, even in dull black mourning garb. Her engagement ring was still sparkling on her ring finger, the one ray of light still left in his life.

He couldn’t help but feel she was slipping through his fingers, though.

A situation entirely of his own making, he supposed.

After the ceremony and during the wake, he waited for Elain to approach him first.

“Hi, Az,” she said softly, settling herself into the chair next to him. He murmured a soft hello back. “I wanted to… Talk to you.”

“Oh? What about, ‘Lainey?”

A slight blush colored her cheeks at the nickname. “I wanted to know… What you said to Y/N. I just… I need to know if it was just the bond being rejected or…” She trailed off, turning her eyes from his hazel ones to the table.

“If I was needlessly cruel to her?”

Elain pursed her lips together. “Yes.”

Azriel sighed. He had hoped he would never need to admit how horribly his last interaction with his mate had gone. “I… I was not kind to her, not like I should have been. I wish I could change how I rejected her Elain.”

Elain’s mouth turned downwards. “What exactly did you say?”

Azriel looked at the ground. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he repeated his awful words to her, her eyes widening by the second.

“I… Azriel, I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.” She slipped the ring, the ring that was so, perfectly Elain, off of her finger and onto the table, sliding it over to him. “I would not be able to marry someone who could say such things to someone, let alone to my sister and their mate. I… I wish you the best. I’ll move my things out of the cottage as soon as possible.”

And with that, Elain stood from the table and walked back to where her sisters and his brothers were sitting, leaving him and his broken heart in her wake.

She’s right, master, the shadows whispered to him. You hurt our mate badly. She is gone.

Tears pricked Azriel’s eyes again.

A few minutes later, a black cloud encroached on his field of view-

His High Lady.

“You said WHAT to my twin?!” Feyre screamed at him, darkness flooding his vision. “You thought being her mate was a joke?! And when it wasn’t a joke, you told her she would never compare to Elain?! And that waiting for your mate, the one who was made for you, was a waste of time?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Feyre raged, her inner beast coming out, only for Azriel to see.

And he was horrified, terrified as his High Lady pinned him to the ground, talons cutting into the skin of his throat and piercing his left wing.

“I should rip you limb from limb,” Feyre hissed, her voice more animal than fae. “It is only for my mate that I will not, but you will leave this court and never return. Better yet, leave the fucking continent so that I am less tempted to hunt you down and slaughter you anyways.”

And then Feyre was off of him, letting her claws slice into his neck, just barely missing his jugular. The darkness receded, leaving him lying on the ground bleeding and Feyre standing over him, appearing as a fae again.

“Azriel.” Rhys approached the two of them, followed closely by Cassian, and extended a hand to help Azriel up. “Brother, you know that I love you. But… You can’t stay here. Not now. Not after… This.” A heavy sigh left his brother’s lips.

Cassian hugged him tightly, careful to avoid brushing against his now punctured wing.

“I’ll miss you, brother. Take care of yourself… Don’t… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Cassian said quietly, tears shining in his eyes.

“I second that, Az. Be smart, hmm? I’m sure that you’ll find somewhere to hear from this, to change from this,” Rhys said aloud. Then, he spoke into his mind, “I know Feyre said to never return but… If you could, I would like for you to check in with me every month or so. Just to know that you’re alright.”

“I will,” Azriel replied in a soft voice, his throat sore from where Feyre had held him and cut him. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” he added as he regarded the three remaining Archeron sisters, knowing it would likely be the last time he would see any of them.

And then he took to the skies, even with his punctured wing making flight painful and more difficult than it had been since he first learned.

His mate, gone.

His family, gone.

It’s what I deserve.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

'the 1' Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Eri Reader in Demon Slayer with the Hashira’s? She was teleported at the Demon Slayer Corps and the Hashira thought she’s a Demon because of her horn

Sanemi cuts himself to show Eri’s ‘True Colors’, only for Eri to take off some of her bandages around her arm to rap around Sanemi’s wound, showing her small arm littered in old and new scars (Shocking the Hashira)

The Hashira realize Eri’s not a Demon, rather she’s a human child with a powerful ability called Rewind

Shinobu did a little test with Eri’s blood, not finding a single trace of demonic essence in her blood, only that her cells have an incredible regeneration and repairing ability inside (Giving her a good idea why Eri has so many scars, making her feel disgust and anger)

The Hashira are shocked to learn Eri doesn’t know how to smile (After asking what Sanemi was doing with his face)

Eri becomes close with all the Hashira’s, but her personal favorites are Mitsuri, Rengoku and Gyomei (She likes Gyomei the most) though she also likes Sanemi and Obanai even if they come off cold and harsh at times, she doesn’t take it personally

This is before Mugen Train

-The Ubuyashiki compound was filled with shouting when you suddenly dropped down through a swirling portal, looking ragged and rather panicked which unfortunately only got worse as these unknown people were all quickly yelling at you, drawing swords and weapons, calling you a demon.

-The moment you burst into tears was when several of the Hashira realized you were out in the sun, and you weren’t burning like normal demons.

-Mitsuri quickly had you in her arms, hugging you close while Obanai and several others yelled at her, thinking you were going to attack her, but your tears slowed, a bit surprise she was being so gentle with you, like you weren’t used to being treated so gently.

-Ubuyashiki arrived and you were brought inside, and his daughters described you as a young child in a rather dirty dress, bandages covering your arms, legs, and neck, with a small horn on only one side of your forehead.

-You were a little scared, introducing yourself after he asked, “I’m Y/N.” you little voice was so small and broken, Gyomei and Mitsuri were both quickly in tears, worried about you.

-He asked you what had happened, and you explained, “I was running from Overhaul- I didn’t want to be hurt anymore, and I saw a sparkly portal and I ran to it, and I was suddenly here.”

-They didn’t recognize the magic, as it didn’t sound like a demon blood art, or at least one that they heard of before Sanemi stood, “This is ridiculous Master! Y/N is just going to attack us when our guard isn’t up! Isn’t that right demon?!” as he said this, he grabbed the front of your dress, hauling you up, trying to intimidate you before he threw you down with a sharp cry leaving your lips.

-He pulled out his blade and your eyes went wide, thinking he was going to hurt you before he sliced his own arm open, “Demons can’t resist the smell of blood- do it! Attack me so it proves you’re a monster!”

-You were in shock, seeing that he hurt himself before you quickly stood up, rushing to him and he smiled, thinking he was right, before you quickly pulled some of your bandages off, revealing your scars as you tried to wrap his cut, tears slipping down your cheeks, “Don’t hurt yourself!”

-All eyes were on you, blinking in shock, seeing you trying to treat Sanemi’s wound while you were trying to stop crying, your little hand coming to rub at your eyes, sniffling softly.

-They were able to confirm you weren’t a demon, after Shinobu took a small sample of your blood, you were a normal human, just with a small horn on your head. Shinobu and Mitsuri took care of you, giving you a bath and Amane provided a spare kimono with a simple checkered pattern.

-When you were brought before the rest of the Hashira, Mitsuri hugging you while crying, not able to handle how they found your little body, Shinobu gave her report that you had been tortured, like you had been experimented on.

-Others were furious to hear how a child had been treated as Ubuyashiki spoke, “Y/N- you mentioned someone before, Overhaul, was he the one who did this to you?”

-You were a little hesitant in answering, giving a small nod which Amane told him, as you realized he was blind by the wound on his face, making your heart ache.

-Amane, trying to lighten the mood, spoke, “Do you like your kimono, Y/N?” your cheeks turned a bit pink, looking down a bit shyly, “Is it really okay for me to have something this nice?”

-This made the mood worse however, as this was just a simple spare kimono, but you were acting like it was a treasure you had been blessed with.

-Ubuyashiki was the only one who appeared calm, “Why did he do this to you?” you hesitated in answering, remaining silent for a moment, “He was trying to turn my quirk into a weapon.”

-You were surprised when they told you they didn’t know what a quirk was, as you were used to everyone having one, and you explained, where you came from, everyone had abilities, some small and some big and flashy.

-Shinobu then spoke, curious, “And what is your quirk, Y/N?” you held up your hands, biting your bottom lip only for a moment, “He called it Rewind, he said I could rewind things.”

-This did little to help, as they were all confused and you spoke up, feeling a bit scared but also willing to show them that you meant no harm, because they weren’t hurting you or being mean, not counting your first meetings with them.

-You stood and approached Ubuyashiki, holding out your hands, “Can I- can I show you?” the Hashira were quickly on the defensive, thinking it was a trap, still not fully trusting you, but it was Ubuyashiki who stunned all by reaching up, taking your hands.

-Your horn flared to life, a bright colored aura covering it which surrounded him and all in attendance froze as his curse slowly receded, bit by bit, until only a mark by his hairline was visible as you let out a raspy pant, falling back as your face flushed with a fever.

-Several shouted out your name in worry, Amane getting to you first, while several others shouted out Ubuyashiki’s name, completely stunned that you were able to do this. You were able to reverse the curse of a demon!!

-A few hours later, when your fever finally broke, Sanemi was sitting next to you after you had been presented with a meal, something simple, “It’s so yummy!” he couldn’t help but glare, angry about how you had been treated, it made him think of his siblings.

-He had been the one to watch you, while the others were in a meeting, with hopes that he would be nicer to you, or else.

-When you were done you looked down at his arm that was more properly bandaged, “Do you want me to heal that?” he was surprised, but gave you a grin, “Nah- I’m gonna let it heal the old-fashioned way- it will make for a cool scar!”

-You were surprised by this before you lifted one of the sleeves, looking at your own scars, “Scars are cool?” he hesitated in answering, while he earned his in battle against those who earned them, you were tied down and hurt in a cruel way.

-He ruffled your hair lightly, surprising you that he was so gentle, “Yeah- but only if you think they are.” You looked up at his face, cupping his cheeks, “What are you doing with your mouth? I saw Mitsuri and Shinobu doing it too.”

-Moments later he stormed into the meeting, holding you in his arms, flames of fury surrounding him as he told everyone you didn’t know what a smile was or how to do one.

-The discussion on how they needed to keep you safe, as they knew Muzan wouldn’t hesitate to use you, as your ability was something astounding but also dangerous, as most of them were quickly shouting, lamenting your bad fortune, and preparing an attack on Overhaul, wanting to seek him out.

-You were in Gyomei’s arms, who was crying while you were trying to calm him down, trying to wipe his tears, which only made things worse, seeing what a kind heart you had.

-Ubuyashiki couldn’t help but smile, seeing how lively everyone was- they were all going to help you, no matter what.

[ahllohehn]

Gem's area ,or whatever the Oracle has, has two kinds of decorations cute cottagecore stuff, and spooky stuff like skulls and stuff

An excerpt from the Camp Oracle's Journal:

"I put some fairy lights and curtains around the cave to make it seem homier. I also made a really wide tent filled with blankets and pillows to add up to the comfiness. After all, it was going to be my home for the next few weeks until I had to go back to school. Actually, it’s gonna be my home for the next summers to come!

There’s not much yet, but I hope to add more soon. Grian’s sister, Pearl, came to visit for a while to get a look at the new oracle (aka me). She was really nice! She helped me out on setting up the decorations around my cave and even gave me an old plushie of hers to add to my tent.

It was a well-loved wolf plushie, if the way the seams were already threatening to burst from just how much it’s been hugged, probably.

I didn’t want to take it at first because, you know, sentimental value! I couldn’t just take away her childhood plushie! But she was really adamant about giving it to me. She reasoned that Tilly (the name of the plushie, by the way) would be safer with me than it was with Grian.

Pearl couldn’t take the plushie with her because she’s always on the move with the goddess Artemis, Hunters of Artemis duties and all that. “It’d be a shame if it got lost mid-expedition,” she said.

And who was I to reject after that reason, you know? So now I have little Tilly living with little Gem in the super comfy and cool Oracle cave!"

Thank you for continuing to read! Have a tour of what's inside of Gem's cave:

COMFY CORNER OF THE CAVE

Cat beanbags and plushies - The cat beanbag is customized to look like Jellie. It was mainly put there during times Scar comes by to hang out with her so he wouldn't have to stay for too long on his wheelchair while visiting.

Seawater rug - Personally sewed by Xisuma after hearing that Gem had interest in marine biology. He wanted her to feel happier when resting in her cave since the cave was too far from the shore and the sea.

Aquatic animal plushies - Impulse and Skizz excitedly came over to give her fish plushies as a welcome gift. The clownfish is named Skizzy. The shark is named Impy, named accordingly to who gave which.

Small foldable table - Gem doesn't fold it often as she keeps her art stuff on it. She draws and makes the pins here.

BY THE WALL

Skull-shaped fairy lights - Not always green in color, but she keeps it green to make everything feel creepy. She had normal fairy lights before this but Cleo jokingly replaced it with string lights she bought during Halloween. Gem liked it so she kept it.

Worn out sword / Worn out shield - Not hers to begin with. They're actually normal weapons Etho had forged as practice before. He gifts them to Gem everytime she wins a spar against him to act as 'spoils of war.'

DESK / CURTAINED SIDE

Desk - There's chairs facing each other on each side of the table. This is where she mainly meets the campers for personal prophecies.

A line of potted plants along the wall - Bdubs offered to give her plants he thinks Gem would like to care for. There's mostly small sunflowers and succulents along the wall. One of the potted plants grew a particular one Gem never saw before. It was only when Pearl came over and questioned why she had a moonlace flower in her cave that she realized she was growing a magical plant. Bdubs never answered as to why he gave it to her.

TENT

Where Gem mainly sleeps. In here, you will never feel uncomfy as she's probably got 20 pillows and 5 blankets in there. Pearl's old plushie, Tilly, lives there with her. Grian asks to come in and cuddle with it when he has a particularly rough day.

about au au tag discord

[catcze]

thinking ab the way wriothesley would cry so hard the first time you hug him ... he has never felt comfort in his life and i stand by that 😿

Wait;;; :((( oh wait ur right :((( [also side note i feel like this takes place a little bit after he became the administrator, before he got his title. Hence why he's not as blase about the shit he's gone thru in the same way that he is in his story quest. ]

"Can I give you a hug?" You ask him out of the blue, and Wriothesley stills at his desk.

He's not sure what's brought this on— hell, you're not even sure what's brought this on, but you figure there's no harm asking.

"I—" The word gets caught in his throat, and his brows furrow in contemplation. One of his hands goes to scratch at the back of his neck, and against all odds, he actually looks a little nervous. "I cen't recall the last time I had a hug. Probably was—"

Probably was when he was still with his foster parents.

The unspoken thought hangs between the both of you, dampening the mood slightly as you realize that all those memories of warm hugs have long since soured for him. Wriothesley quickly clears his throat.

'But if you're offering... well, I don't see why not."

Delighted, you instruct him to stand, and quickly make your way in front of him. You're a little nervous now too, all too aware of how messed up his foster parents were. Aware of how messed up his young adult years were, growing up in an environment where he had to fight for his survival. All you could offer him right now was a hug, but at the very least you hope that he could hold onto it as a good memory.

"Go right ahead, Sweetheart," Wriothesley says, opening his arms wide.

You waste no time in wrapping him up in your embrace— your arms snake around his torso, crushing your chests together. This close, you can feel the quick beat of his heart, warm and rapid and alive in his chest. Your hands go to his back, one of them rubbing soothing circles into the planes there, while the other gently guides his head to rest on your shoulder. Thankfully, he poses practically no resistance to you, letting you guide his body around you with ease.

His arms wrap around you in turn. Tentatively, as if he's scared of shattering you in his hold. Or perhaps he fears the reverse.

Wriothesley's hands settle on your waist, keeping you snug against him. With each circle you rub on his back, each gentle scratch you give to his scalp, his grip tightens bit by bit.

You pour out every single ounce of love you can into the hug. Every warm thought you have of this scarred man in your arms, every adoring thing you can think about to comfort him. You hold him close in a hug that is neither too loose but is not chokin. A hug that is just enough, as if you mean to mend together those invisible wounds that he still carries.

The hug goes on longer than socially acceptable, but neither of you find it in you to care. Wriothesley is practically boneless in your hold, leaning a large portion of his weight against you. He's quietly hugging you back, face buried in your shoulder, trembling just the slightest bit with every comforting scratch or pat or circle you draw on his skin. Wriothesley does not shake, he does not fall. He doesn't let a single noise escape him, save for a single shuddering breath that you feel from his chest.

You let him bury himself in your hold for as long as he wants and as long as he needs. You'll embrace him for as long as he needs, to make up for all the lonely years he's spent without a single hug.

And if you feel a dampness on the shoulder of your shirt, then you promise you won't tell anyone.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[quillcraftconquer]

Beneath Us (Ghost x Fem Reader)

Note: This is an angst filled fanfiction I will be posting on Ao3 and here. Character information, background, etc will not be entirely accurate to CoD or real life.

1.1k words.

Fuck.

My back curled against the hardened cot, the familiar ache sending a dull, constant pain down my spine. I blinked away the lingering sleep, my eyes focusing on the dark mattress above me. The soft snores emitting from the bed told me my sergeants, Ethan and Maverick, were still asleep. I wrapped my fingers around my phone and squinted against the harsh light of the screen.

0300.

Ethan and Maverick would wake in a few hours, ready to start the day. I always woke up before them, partly because I felt a Lieutenant should lead by example, and partly because the scar on my back began to remind me of its presence in the early morning hours. 

I planted my feet on the cold floor, rolling my neck side to side. When I opened my eyes again, Maverick was propped up on an elbow on the bed across from Ethan and I. 

“Alright?” He asked, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“I’m alright.” I replied, flinging my blanket to his bed to cover his feet poking out at the end of his bed. Maverick, who had earned the nickname Bull on account of his size and inability to be quiet in small spaces, caught the blanket and uttered a grunt of gratitude before laying back down. 

I made my way to our shared living space, settling on the sofa with the files I had been given containing the details for our next deployment. Laswell had mentioned partnering with a task force with the intentions to utilize Ethan’s interpretation skills and Maverick’s cyber operations. My job was to keep both of them alive.

“You look like shit.” Ethan mumbled as he entered the room, making a beeline for the refrigerator. 

“You look like shit, lieutenant.” I corrected him, and Ethan turned to give me a mock salute in response. I ignored him, tossing the files onto the coffee table. 

“Is it part of the body's natural process after 30 to wake up looking like that?” Ethan asked, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. The sound summoned Maverick, who took the bowl as Ethan was putting the milk back into the fridge.

“Thanks, Hooch.” Maverick said, joining me on the sofa. Ethan gave him the middle finger, pouring another bowl. 

“I’m not over 30, I’m 30.” I mumbled, and Ethan pointed his spoon at the files.

“Who are we working with?” He asked. I flipped the file’s open, spreading them across the coffee table. 

“Captain John Price, two sergeants, and his lieutenant.” I answered, and Maverick leaned forward to peer at the files. 

“No photo? No name?” Maverick asked, pointing at the near empty file I had also been questioning. 

“Goes by Ghost, I was told. No photo, doesnt show his face.” I answered. 

“Ever?” Ethan asked, eyebrows raising in question. 

“He that ugly?” Maverick asked, digging into his bowl.

“I dont care what he looks like, I care he keeps you alive.” I said, folding the files back shut. 

Maverick grunted in agreement, settling back onto the sofa to finish his bowl of cereal. Ethan, who Maverick had once deemed Ethanol, and quickly shifted to calling him “Hooch” on account of the copious amounts of alcohol he could consume, was the exact opposite of Maverick. Maverick, who was 6’5 and every bit of 240lbs of solid muscle, towered over Ethan’s 5’7 frame. Ethan was lean, loud, and proud with a heart of gold. He was also a smart ass who could press every button you had. 

“Just come back to me alive.” I joked, passing Simon his favorite jacket that hung on the doorknob of the apartment. 

“Always.” Simon promised, his hands pressing against my back and drawing me in close to his body. His lips pressed against mine, sealing his promise to me. 

“I know you won't be able to call me until you're back, so I left some letters in your bag for you to read. I’ll be back in the states for a few weeks and then I’ll come visit you, yeah?” I said, my hands giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

Simon’s hands cradled each side of my face, his deep brown eyes glimmering with soft intensity. Rich, dark color that reminded you of the earth after rain. Solid, grounding, and a familiarness that felt like home to me now. 

“I love yo-”

“I’ll go grab the bags, I saw the flight was going to be 14 hours. I want the window seat.” Ethan said, depositing his bowl in the sink and bringing me back to reality. Maverick clapped me on the shoulder, following Ethan back to the rooms. 

The plane rumbled under our bodies, my fingers tightening on the arm of the seat. I hated flying. I closed my eyes tightly, shutting out the sound of the engines. I brought my index finger to the pad of my thumb, remembering the technique that my lieutenant had taught me. 

“Think of a time you had just accomplished something physically exhausting. Remember how your muscles relaxed, how rewarding the pain felt.”

I thought back to practicing defense tactics with the other soldiers, the smell of sweat clinging to the wrestling mats. I thought of the way we smiled and laughed with each other.

I touched my middle finger to the pad of my thumb.

“Think of love, or a positive moment in your life. It could be anyone. Your family, you friends, your-”

I swallowed, thinking of Simon’s hands caressing my waist, the soft sheets of our bed laying over our bodies as the sun glowed through the curtains.

I touched my ring finger to my thumb, my mind pleading to still the shakiness of my hand.

“Think of a compliment-”

“Just come back to me alive.”

“Alwa-”

My eyes shot open, a sigh escaping my mouth. Maverick snored lightly next to me, his legs stretched out into the aisle. Ethan’s head rested against the open window, a steady bass coming from his earbuds. 

I had to let it go. Simon had gone missing almost a decade ago. Throughout those years I kept telling myself the same thing, I had to let it go. I had to let him go. I had done all of the steps. I went to therapy, I dated other people, fuck, I even tried celibacy. Nothing stopped the deep pang I felt in my chest when I thought of him. Where he was, if he was dead, or if he was alive and if he thought of me like I thought about him. 

“We’re here.” Ethan said, pulling the earbuds out of his ear. I nudged Maverick with my elbow, nodding at the bags above our heads. Maverick reached up, pulling them down one by one and passing them to us. The plane landed, and I stood in the aisle between Maverick and Ethan, facing our unknown. 

[vibrantstarfire]

silly prompts? silly prompts about dc characters? might i throw: cass cain interacting with crystal brown for you to consider and see if that might intrigue you?

ok so i had an idea the other day about like bruce sucking at being a girl dad and basically forgetting that periods exist. what if crystal brown filled this role instead?

also i KNOW you said silly but i am sooo bad at writing characters having an unabashedly good time so this is as fun and lighthearted as it gets. also remember when i said 1K is the max word count i can have. do you remember that. because not one of these has been under 1K lmao

////

Crystal Brown has just finished a 12-hour shift at the clinic and a half-hour commute to boot. She is ready for exactly one microwaveable meal, one chore-check to see if the dishes and laundry have gotten too dire before her next day off, and maybe one episode of shitty reality TV – The Bachelor – that Stephanie will usually sit with her and make fun of before a blissful eight hours of sleep. 

So she is surprised to hear the TV already turned on to her shitty reality TV. It’s odd. Stephanie never watches it without her. It's just not as fun for her to make fun of on her own, god forbid her irony-loving daughter watching a show purely for the love of watching it.

“Stephanie?” she calls as she sets her bags down. “I hope you’re not using up the pre-recordings, I don’t want to miss the finale.” 

No one answers. Crystal frowns. Maybe she left it on before she left? That would be terrible, she really was looking forward to the season finale, and it's so hard to find the pre-recordings after watching them. She doesn't want to have watched the entire season of The Bachelor just to miss the final episode. And this season was wild, especially after two of the girls left with each other instead, thus making one subsequent episode end with no one going home. Now that it's down to the final two as scheduled, Todd probably doesn’t deserve either Graciela or Kaiden, especially when Stephanie said Todd had at least two DUIs that his wealth and handsome face can’t quite distract from. But it’s fun to watch. It’s not meant to be critically examined, she keeps telling Stephanie. 

After she's unpacked the necessities from her purse and refilled her water bottle, she can't help but notice that a few other things are off about her home.

For one, there are more wrappers around the kitchen than usual. Stephanie isn’t the tidiest, but she usually at least throws things away after using them. 

Feeling a little frustrated, Crystal scoops the wrappers up, sighs pointedly, and tosses them before they can draw ants. She’ll definitely be talking with Stephanie about this. The last thing she needs after a 12-hour shift is to come home to a mess. 

“Stephanie,” she calls again, trying to keep her patience. “If you’re home, answer me.” 

And then, she has the sudden sensation of being watched.

Crystal tenses and stands up straight.

And just across the kitchen, standing at the other side of the island as if she's been here the entire time, is an unfamiliar asian girl, around Stephanie's age.

Crystal almost has a heart attack. Crystal holds a hand to her heart, prepared to fight if she needs to, because what the actual hell is this strange girl doing in her house? She opens her mouth to ask who she is and why she's watching TV in her house, when the girl speaks. 

"Not Stephanie," she says. "But... Hi, Stephanie's mom."

"Is there a reason you broke into my house, Not Stephanie?"

“Stephanie told me to come if there was … if I had an emergency. I thought she would come home first.” She glances at the suddenly wrapper-less countertop, and does look genuinely apologetic. “Sorry. Meant to clean up.”

Crystal looks at the girl closer. Even from across the countertop island, she can tell this girl is smaller than Stephanie. And, upon slightly closer examination, extensively scarred. 

Crystal has a bad feeling she knows just what activity Stephanie knows her from.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and gives herself just a moment to tamp down her frustration. But the girl hasn’t made a move to kill her, so if she’s a vigilante, she’s not that kind of vigilante. And she did say Stephanie had invited her. So for now, Crystal won’t kick her out. She looks seventeen, maybe nineteen at the most. She doesn't exactly look like a threat. 

And she did mention an emergency. 

“What is the emergency you came here for?” Crystal asks, with a herculean effort at being the adult in the room. 

“Bleeding.” 

Crystal’s brows raise. She looks at the girl’s extensive scarring, and despite being thoroughly tapped out of nurse mode after twelve hours on the clock, it doesn’t take that much effort to get back into it. At least it makes marginally more sense for Stephanie to have asked her friend to come here if she needed medical attention, though it's odd that the girl had expected Stephanie to be home first if that was the case. “Okay,” she says, professionally. She's already reaching for the first aid kit she keeps in her purse. “Where are you bleeding? I can stitch it, if you need, –I’m sorry, Stephanie didn’t mention you, can you tell me your name?” 

“Cassandra. Cass.” The girl, Cass, looks uncomfortable giving it. Or maybe uncomfortable at the thought of stitches. “It can be stitched?” 

“Well, where are you bleeding?”

"...Pelvis? Not sure what the right word is." Cass points down below. The kitchen island blocks her view, but it's clear she's indicating her pelvic and pubic area, somewhere in her inner groin. Crystal frowns. If this girl was hurt in such a sensitive area, it seems odd that Stephanie would just leave her alone here.

The more Crystal thinks about it though, the less she’s sure of what Cass means. Has she been cut? Is this a vaginal tear? Some combination of both? Sexual abuse isn’t exactly rare in Gotham, so it’s hard to rule anything out. Either way, it would definitely count as an emergency. Crystal just wishes she knew whether Cass was a minor or not – she’d need to ask different questions, and figure out whether or not CPS or the foster system needed to get involved, if so. 

She can’t do anything until she knows exactly what’s wrong, though. 

“Can you tell me a little bit more about how you got hurt? Is it a cut that needs stitches, or something else?”

“It doesn’t…” Cass frowns, looking like she’s struggling for the words. “Stephanie said it didn’t need stitches.”

“But it is a cut?”

“It's bleeding.” 

“Then whether it needs stitches is for a nurse to decide,” Crystal says, and is going to have A Talk with Stephanie about giving medical advice. “How long have you been bleeding? How much blood have you lost?” 

“Two days,” Cass says. “More blood than usual.”

And something shifts.  

Crystal tilts her head to the side. “When you say bleeding,” she says, calmly, “Does this bleeding happen often?” 

Cass makes a face as she thinks about it. “Not often,” she says. ��A few times a year. More, now.” 

That doesn’t quite disprove Crystal’s theory, though it does mean there might be other complications. “When you talked with Stephanie about this earlier," she says, "Did Stephanie call it anything?”

“Shark week.” Cass wrinkles her nose.

Crystal heaves a deep sigh, changes the discussion she’s going to have with Stephanie to be one about properly naming medical terms, and puts the first aid kit away. “Okay,” she says, and mentally recalibrates most of their conversation. It now makes perfect sense. Of course Cass would be wary of being stitched up for menstruation. “Did she show you where the extra pads and tampons are? Or ibuprofen?” 

Cass shakes her head. 

“Alright then. Follow me,” Crystal says, and directs her to the bathroom, where Stephanie usually keeps extra pads and tampons. She realizes now that the girl’s comfortable pants are quite noticeably stained, even from the front, and she feels a pang of sympathy. She also, more self-interestedly, hopes that nothing else is stained. She can’t afford a new couch right now. 

Within a few minutes, Crystal has given the girl a new set of underwear and pants, taught her how to apply a pad, and given her a heating pad and some ibuprofen. 

(Apparently period cramps don’t hurt nearly as badly as being shot, but after some prodding, she did get Cass to admit that she was a little bit uncomfortable.)

After that, there’s not much to do. 

Crystal still wants her microwaved meal and to watch the season finale of The Bachelor. But she’s got the feeling that if she kicks this girl out, she won’t have anywhere else to go. And, well. The couch isn’t ruined, thanks to a few towels the girl had found instead. She's been polite enough, and she's not a threat. There’s no reason she can’t stay in the living room if she’s got nowhere else to go. 

So after some careful deliberation, Crystal pulls out two microwave meals, and heats them up simultaneously. 

They spin in the microwave for quite some time. 

After they're almost done, she asks, “Is Stephanie not coming home tonight?” 

Cass watches her curiously from across the kitchen. She shakes her head, no. 

“Well, I’m not waiting to watch the season finale without her,” Crystal says with an air of finality, and tries not to listen to the pang of anxiety that always comes with not knowing her daughter's whereabouts. They'll fight about it tomorrow, she knows. She just hopes that her daughter comes home by tomorrow. “You’ll just have to watch it with me instead.” 

Cass stares at her. 

The microwave dings, and Crystal pulls out two meals, handing one to her strange guest. “I hope you don’t mind Stouffers.” 

Cass takes it silently. Surprised, it seems, at the hospitality. Crystal is, too. 

As they settle in for the pre-recording, forks scraping the microwaveable plastic tins, Crystal feels strangely in sync with her guest. At least Cass, unlike Stephanie, seems to have a more honest appreciation of The Bachelor. 

“Kaiden doesn’t like him as much as Graciela does,” Cass comments mid-way through the finale. She shakes her head in disapproval as the episode cuts to commercial, right before Todd makes his final decision between the final girls. “They won’t be happy together if he chooses her.”

“I know,” Crystal says, shaking her head. “But Kaiden is rich, so Todd will probably pick her.” 

“Shallow,” Cass says, mouth half full. “Boo.” 

She sounds a little like Stephanie, and Crystal hides a smile in her next bite. “If it makes you feel better, Graciela is probably going to be on the next Bachelorette.”

Cass looks up, brows furrowed. “Bachelorette?”

“Well… yes. Instead of the girls competing for one boy, it's several boys competing for a girl.” Crystal has the spark of an idea. She hesitates, only for a moment. Then, “Do you... want to watch it together, when it comes out?” 

It’s a way to keep an eye on this strange, scarred friend of her daughter’s, who’s in her late teens and didn’t quite seem to understand periods. But, even more importantly, if she steals her daughter’s friend, maybe there’ll be some more earnest appreciation of reality TV in the Brown household. 

Cass looks at her for a long moment. Then, once and decisively, nods. “Yes,” she says, and then, as if only just remembering her manners, adds- “Yes, please.” 

“Well, the next season of the Bachelorette will start a month from now,” Crystal says. “You’ll probably need some more period supplies by then anyway. Stop by and we’ll get you fixed up with that, too.” 

Cass’s face changes a little, somewhere between confusion and surprise. She nods again, this time silently. Crystal doesn't press. She has a feeling that a month from now, her strange guest will have reappeared at the end of her shift.

At least by then, she'll have had a chance to buy a few extra period supplies and underwear. Just in case.

[blasphemousclaw]

thank you for being so normal about the hornsent 🙏 Thank you cause jesus christ. anyways for the ask ermm The hornsent npc melina or messmer

you’re welcome I just got so attached to the hornsent while playing the dlc! after watching Belurat burn in the story trailer, going into the ruined city in the game and seeing all the graves and mourning spirits really affected me, and I’m honestly shocked that such a huge portion of the fanbase didn’t feel the same way. also they are literally so cool like look at their art and architecture. their armor sets. their divine beast dancing lion. if people can’t enjoy that because they’re “evil” well I have great news. they are not real

anyway here’s capital H Hornsent my best friend Hornsent

• favorite thing about them

how his quest ends with him attacking us no matter what we do. I know I know! it’s so frustrating that we can’t convince him we’re on his side! but the fact that he tries so hard to push us away just makes me love him more! he refuses our second offering of scorpion stew because he isn’t here to make friends, he’s here to win he’s given his life for his revenge... his line “I wish not to friendship kindle” drives me crazy because we have this moment of human connection with him, which he acknowledges, but he can’t let himself lose sight of his purpose! admit it Hornsent. you like me

also his character design and voice acting are fantastic

• least favorite thing about them

I already like how his character is handled but I think it would be even stronger if he or someone else dropped a few more details about life in Belurat before the crusade. he enacts his revenge not just in the name of his murdered family but his entire culture, and it would be nice to learn a few more hornsent cultural details through him!

• favorite line

“What’s this? Do you think me in need of alms? Ah… but this dish. Tis fare o’ the tower. I remember fondly this kin-clad scent. …Brings back memories I’d all but forgot. This, by my troth, is but a dismal copy. Indeed, I think it rather plain to see… things once broken can never be the same.”

I love the scorpion stew interaction so much! “things once broken can never be the same” hits so hard after exploring Belurat and seeing the city’s destruction, and pairing this dialogue with the scorpion stew description is even more tragic: “Traditional meal of the hornsent. Once made with love by a certain elderly woman for the family table.”

• brOTP ОТР whatever this is

Hornsent and Tarnished. what if I could fix him

• nОТР

I don’t think about this at all

• random headcanon

the marks on his face are burn scars from the fires… I think he had hair but it mostly burned off. maybe I’ll draw what I think his face looked like without the limitations of the npc character model sometime

• unpopular opinion

I don’t think he was a greater potentate! I think it’s strongly implied that he lived in Belurat before the crusade, not Bonny Village. I think he sought out the potentates’ caterpillar mask because it’s used to enhance focus and banish feelings of doubt in one’s purpose, which makes perfect sense for his revenge quest

• song i associate with them

once again please leave any suggestions in the replies/tags!!

• favorite picture of them

not to boost my own content but this was hysterical

[fanaticsnail]

I'm on a side blog, can't be horny on main, so I'm anon. Anyway I just reread your kissing booth series & I just adore your story with Heat. Heat is so adorable. He makes me think of that post about hyping up a lame bf (I don't think he's lame though) but like imagine telling all your friends about your new man & you're just like "guys here he is, the gods most specialest boy" & it's just Heat standing in the doorway looking like a somber Muppet. I love him. And I love your writing.

The way I immediately needed this in a fic, but I also wanted it super, super fluffy and kissy.

They'll Love You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Heat is nervous about meeting your friends and fearing their judgement in your choice of lover. You reassure him they'll love you as much as you do.

Themes: Heat x gn!reader, established relationship, kissing, waking up together, meeting your friends, fluff, cuddles, drinking.

Notes: Images sourced from stock photos, Suicide Squad and Mad Max.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita

As the cold of the morning pressed into your face, the warmth from the body lying behind you caressed your skin with the familiar intimacy you’ve come to expect from your lover. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your skin and humming against you. 

“Morning,” you lazily rolled your head back to brush against his. He chuckled into your neck before pressing his lips in a sweet kiss on the apple of your cheek. 

“G’Morning,” he uttered in return, gently tugging you to move onto your back and gaze deeply into your eyes. Reaching his hand down, he brushed a few stray hairs from your face as you rolled beneath him. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration in his grey orbs as he looked down at you. The expression on his face was so soft, you felt like he was in his own world while he studied your face. 

“What’s the matter, Heat?” you ask him, reaching to the side of his face and gently toying with one of his lengthy, pastel-blue locks, “You look so far away. Where have you gone, hm?” He chuckles down at you, his scarred lips curling up into a soft smile. 

“You just look so gorgeous like this, is all,” he whispers down at you, “You always look the best in the mornings, and I never want to let you out of this damn bed.” You giggle up at him in response, caressing his cheek and bringing him down to claim his lips over yours. 

You mouth at him, rolling his scarred flesh between your lips as he joins in the slow and deliberate movements. Unhurried, relaxed and passionate are the lips that meet yours, the texture of his Glasgow smile feeling tingly against your skin. Heat’s kisses are always warm and inviting as he balances out passion and neediness for slow and sultry romance. 

Humming into his lips, he draws his hands down to your hips and slowly massages your flesh beneath his palms. He moans as you slowly caress his thigh with your calf, smiling against your lips as he deepens the embrace. 

Finally pulling apart from his kiss, you dart your eyes between his as you look for a deeper reason for his passion this particular morning. His gray orbs hold a nervousness behind his loving gaze. Smiling with a soft sigh, you shake your head at him in a gentle scolding.

“You want to cancel the brunch, don’t you?” you hum up at him, his shock prompting his eyes to widen and lips to part, “Is that why you’re being sweet?” A small gasped laugh fled from his lips as he softly nodded in confirmation. 

“Oh, honey,” you coo up at him, tucking one of his locks behind his ear, “They’re going to love you, don’t worry.” He rolls his eyes at you and nuzzles his forehead into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss to your clavicle. You sigh as he massages your waist, his tongue darting out and swirling your pulse beneath his lips. 

“H-Heat, stop it,” you giggle at him, prompting him to smile against your skin and continue playfully biting and sucking on your skin. You softly keen out a small mewl, which prompts him to continue his possessive ministrations. Bruising your skin lightly with his kisses, you gather his hair at the nape of his neck. He hums against you, sending shockwaves of vibrations against your flesh as he presses more feverish kisses against you.

“Heat, we’ve gotta get up,” you whine at him, his lips getting warmer the longer he presses his kiss against you. The trail of warm fire ignites a passion in the pit of your stomach the longer he presses kisses into your skin. 

“Mmhm,” he hums, lips parting and heating your pulse with his molten lips. You arch your back up to him as he pins your hips against the mattress with his broad hands. You tap his back to playfully scold him, prompting him to chuckle against your skin and halt his soft attack on your skin. He rounded his eyes and made himself out to be more innocent and pure. 

“You really don’t want to meet them, do you?” you pout at him, looking at his sullen expression and nudging his nose with your own. 

“They’ll think I’m a wet noodle, I’m sure,” he huffs, his scarred lips pouting down at you and pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your nose, “Some mongrel pup you took out of the rain, all soaking wet and shivering from the cold.” You laugh at him and tap his bicep while scooching out from beneath him. 

“And look at you,” he crawls over to the edge of the bed, leaning on his elbows and resting on his stomach, “Perfection incarnate.” You giggle and shake your head at him while gathering your chosen clothes for the day. 

“I promise,” you gaze at him over your shoulder and bat your eyelashes at him, “The moment you meet them, you’ll have all these worries and doubts cast aside.” He sighs, rolling onto his back and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. His hair rolls off the mattress and hangs over the side like waterfalls dropping from a picturesque clifface, prompting you to halt your dressing and stoop down to his height. 

“Even if they don’t love you,” you press your lips to his forehead and give him a soft kiss, “Rest assured in the knowledge that I do. Completely.” As you made to pull away, he hooked his arm over your neck and drew your lips to his. Angling his chin to the side, his lips and tongue hungrily consumed the squeak you made at the initial contact.

Releasing your neck, he gazed his sunken eyes into your own and searched for the lie lingering beneath the surface. Only pure honesty and love were found in your half-lidded eyes as you gazed longingly down at him. 

“Fine,” he groaned with a click of his tongue and a roll of his eyes, “Only because I love you.” You hum in glee down at his pouting lips and press yours against him one last time. 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” you chirp happily down at him. Gathering the remainder of your clothes, you place them over your body under the watchful eyes of your lover taking in your every move and motion with awe. 

At the brunch, Heat had never felt more out of place amongst your friends gathered. While none of them paid him any hostility or mind, he couldn’t help but feel like an outsider looking in on the conversations spreading like wildfire between you all. Conversations he felt so out of depth with at the rapid topic changes, soft giggles, and hands swapping empty glasses for full ones of bubbly wines and fizzed juices. 

Looking across the table, he made contact with another partner who seemed equally out of depths as he was. The partner mouthed at him: “First time?” with an arched brow, to which Heat gave a tight-lipped nod in response. Raising their beverage, they gave a soft cheers with their glass to which Heat reciprocated. Both draining the contents dry in sync, they both laughed softly together as they signaled for another. 

Gazing at him out of the corner of your eye and noticing he began to relax into the space, you place your hand gently on his thigh that he immediately covered with his own. Raising your hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles while gazing longingly at you. You turned to face him, tilting your head to the side and offering him a coy smile. 

“Oh, I love you,” you whisper to him, prompting him to mirror your smile with a smirk of his own. 

“I know,” he uttered softly, pressing another kiss to your palm and leaning in closer to you, “Which is why you’re going to come for drinks tomorrow to meet my crew.” You smile and press your hand to his cheek, drawing him closer to you and claiming his lips in a soft kiss. He hummed against your lips, pulling away to gaze deeply into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” you widen your eyes and gaze up at him with a rounded innocence in your expression. He hummed at you, nodding softly and pressing his forehead against your own.

“Absolutely,” Heat tucked a stray hair behind your ear and leaned into the soft embrace you were sharing together, “They’ll love you.” 

[spinjitsuburst]

I just saw that art u rbed to here from ur main and like while its an amazing peice of art its in own right MY EYES ZOOMED ONTO ONE ARMED LLOYD im so curious where that hc comes from if u wanna ramble abt scar and injury hcs id love to hear genuinelylike. I love scar hcs yeah

I'M SO SORRY THIS ASK TOOK SO LONG BUT OH MY GOD I LOVE TALKING ABOUT DESIGN AND SCAR HEADCANONS SO LIKE GHDFSGHKJFDG

generally i draw the ninja in a pretty vague "around or after crystalized but before DR" timeline so that's what i'm operating under with these headcanons

also i didn't draw zane here cuz android bodies confuse me and i also got. lazy hgkfdsghkjf but i'll do his someday

lloyd's 20~ and the other ninja are mid 20s~

FIRST UP MY FAVS

starting with lloyd i give him a dragon tail and oni horns, as well as pointed ears. he's got a semi-grunge/goth style so i usually draw him with piercings and stuff. he lost his arm during the events of hunted to me but i dont really have a set event in mind for it. his back was SUPER damaged during the sons of garmadon fight and sometimes has to wear a back brace, and his ankle flares up from time to time

jay kept a lot of his scars hidden for a while because they came from skybound (some of his worst injuries lingered from the timeline). not sure whether he's come clean to the ninja yet or not. the marks on his wrist and ankle are from vengestone cuffs on the ship (blame hat because they gave jay vengestone cuffs in bbnb and it broke my brain so my jay has them now). the wound on his side is from skybound as well. ironically his face scar is NOT from skybound, but he was blind in that eye after skybound and hid it from the team. the current scar is from a fight where an enemy sliced a knife up the side of his face, and his lightning reacted badly and struck him while also striking the enemy. he almost died it was NOT a fun day for anybody. also he's a trans man so top scars!!

nya's scars are fun, she obviously has the tiger widow venom scar from skybound (kai finds out about that one after it gets infected cuz she wasn't taking proper care of it after the timeline reset, and he was NOT happy about it) but she also has lichtenberg scars on her hand from a time jay was holding it and accidentally shocked her badly with his powers. he starts wearing gloves after this incident. she also, of course, still has the markings from her time merged with the sea. they glow blue when she uses her powers, and her eyes are more glowy now as well (she kinda looks like a cryptid)

kai's deceptively scrawny. he has basic muscles but he's super skinny, so a lot of people think he isn't as strong as the rest of the ninja. however he's CRAZY strong and has a solid core. He also has a bunch of scars all over his hands from his time as a blacksmith. They're mostly little burns and nicks, but there's one that stretches across his hand from when he accidentally grabbed a hot blade. he also has a lot of body hair

cole is chubby but INSANELY strong, even without super strength. he has a bunch of scars, especially on his arms, from being tanky and blocking blows with his body. most of his scars are ninja related, but he does have one on his leg from a dance accident. nothing major, but the scar stuck around. he also has his ghost scar that goes over his eye somewhat, causing his pupil to be an unnatural green

also a height chart for comparison! one day i'll do zane too but i got lazy. hard to figure out scars for a nindroid, but i imagine that under his plating, the side of his face will ALWAYS have glowing gold scars from the overlord, no matter how many times he makes a new body or tries to fix them

[centipede-gutzz]

♾️ SATORU GOJO PLATONIC HEADCANONS

A/N: need to be friends with someone like gojo in my life. apologies if i wrote him wrong in any way, he has so many layers so i did my best to give him justice.

WARNINGS: canon character death (geto), l-bombs (in a platonic way), not really a warning but satosugu is also mentioned a few times

TYPE: headcanons, gn reader, platonic, fluff/angst

It's a hot day, and Nanami wants nothing but a cold drink.

Haibara asked to get something for him as well, so he HAS to be here anyway (dismissing the small smile he gave him as he walked off to the vending machine).

He steps in front of the machine, scanning his options between the canned liquid goods. Choosing a refreshing water to combat his thirst and training fatigue, he reaches in his pocket for the money. Instead of money, his hand grabs a piece of paper.

Nanami makes a noise of confusion as he takes out the paper from his pocket, staring at the scribbled letters that read "To: Nanami <3" on the front. He unfolds it, thinking it must be something that he forgot to throw out.

He's met with a rather...crude drawing and a tiny "penis" hastily scribbled beneath it, clearly explaining what the hell was on the paper. Before he could even process what he was looking at, he hears giggling from down the hall. You and Gojo are peeking from the corner, watching everything unfold.

Both of you run away cackling as Nanami crumbles up the paper and tosses it into the trash, an angry scowl plastered on his face as he chases you both out of the building.

The drinks are completely forgotten that day.

☆- god you both are big fucking goofballs together. matching energy constantly and it makes everyone else miserable when they become targets of you and gojo's mishaps and chaos.

☆- at first, you guys were at odds with each other. gojo and geto were at the same state but you as well ? damn none of these first years are getting along with each other (besides shoko, she's the only one you tolerated at the time).

☆- once the tension ended between both pairs, you and gojo started hanging out more often.

☆- he has another person who he can latch onto and bother without much trouble and you have someone who can tolerate your silliness. it's a win-win.

☆- gojo won't say anything about it too often, but he really appreciates you being his friend because you enjoy him as a person and not for his immense strength. the most you'll do is compliment his powers and just move on casually like it's nothing new. it definitely means a lot more to him that he lets on.

☆- if you ever buy him souvenirs from missions, he will absolutely INSIST that he get something for you as well (possibly something more expensive too).

☆- as soon as gojo comes back from missions with geto, he's almost immediately by your side to tell you everything that happened.

☆- poor nanami is often the target for you two. you're the one who would apologize afterwards while gojo is not as sorry.

☆- after the events with toji, you were really worried about him. seeing him bloodied and scarred was not the sight you would usually see from your friend.

☆- he only went over the details once and never again, clearly not wanting to reimagine what he and geto had to experience. you give him a comfort hug and say that you'll be there to talk if either of them want to.

☆- the hangouts became less and less frequent for the two of you and everyone else due to gojo's growth as a sorcerer and busy schedule. as soon as he thinks he has time for a break, he has to leave for a mission.

☆- you always say that you don't mind, but he never stops apologizing.

☆- you never expected the news of what geto has done. shoko filled in the rest after her encounter with him, leaving you in shock and disarray of what happened.

☆- it wasn't a secret how close he and gojo were, even more than you two ever were. you didn't know whether it was something you should talk to him about or give him some space.

☆- you ended up letting him process everything first, sitting next to him in silence for some company.

☆- he confesses about his feelings for geto to you one day. you would've poked fun at him and said how obvious it was, but you keep quiet. you only listen to whatever he vents out.

☆- even after gojo starts acting like his normal self once more, you're never able to shake off your worry for him.

☆- he tells you about megumi and you feel REALLY bad for the kid and how he was going to end up. either sold off to the zenin clan or constantly being worked to death and losing comrades in a world that he may never escape from.

☆- never has the thought of you becoming a teen parent ever crossed your mind, but here you are. megumi and tsumiki mean the world to both of you and you constantly like to dote on them. tsumiki is open with her appreciation, yet megumi is still quiet (he expresses it in his own way and is more nicer to you than gojo).

☆- it's definitely a way to help keep your minds off of everything, you think to yourself as you help gojo raise the two siblings.

☆- no matter how many years pass, you know that gojo is still thinking about everything. the constant smiles and laughter you both continue to share is still genuine, but the pain is haunting him.

☆- it takes you a bit to get used to gojo's bandages once he switches out the glasses. his youth is gone and has been for a while, forcefully taken away from him.

☆- if gojo ever happened to visit geto in secret, whether it be an accident or a way to chase after those fleeting moments they couldn't catch back then, you keep quiet about it. it's probably not the healthiest thing for gojo but god, with how much he's been pushed and how his growth has doubled, you can't help but think that maybe it's what he needs right now.

☆- both of you were quick to defend yuta once he came into the picture. you felt bad for the kid, and for gojo with how hard he's been trying to save yuta's youth from being ruined like his was.

☆- it's not uncommon for you to see gojo in action, but you can't help feeling proud and watching him in awe as he fought the battles in the night parade of a hundred demons. you were dealing with your own opponents, occasionally glancing at gojo to keep an eye on him and his wellbeing. you knew he would be fine on his own, but you were ready to assist him the moment it seemed necessary.

☆- you were there for him again after geto's death. he comes back to you with an empty look in those blue eyes of his. you don't bother asking if he needed help to retrieve his body, knowing what gojo's choice was.

☆- for the first time in a while, he gives you a tight hug and cries. it's rare for you to see him like this, but it hurts to see him like this everytime. you can only whisper words of comfort and pet his hair as he sobs into your shoulder, clearly struck with grief over the loss of his one and only.

☆- those moments were kept between the both of you. he knew it was ok for him to express those emotions, yet he can't help but recoil everytime he looks back at those moments of how weak he felt. you assure him that it's natural to feel that way.

☆- gojo really appreciates you as a friend, and constantly reminds you after everything. you were always there for him, and he was always there for you. it still hurts knowing what gojo and the others had to endure after all these years.

☆- the two of you continue to stick next to each other, swearing to protect and teach the youth of the future generation of jujutsu sorcerers. there are constant jokes between each other of killing the executives (neither of you are entirely joking).

☆- you promise that you'll be there to support him, and gojo promises the same thing with a wide grin on his face. he gives you a harsh slap on the back and quickly scitters away from your payback.

☆- both of you are equally intolerable, jokes and pranks from the old days still prevalent even now.

☆- "i love you," he says one day while you two were watching over his newest student. yuji is sleeping on the couch, cursed corpse in hand as a movie plays in the background. you immediately smile to yourself and give an airy laugh, reaching up to ruffle his hair. it's nothing new, you both constantly express your friendly affections towards each other. yet you can't help but have a stupid grin on your face everytime.

☆- "love ya too, you loser," you respond. gojo smiles and rests his arm on your head with a dreamy sigh. you immediately regret your response as you poke him in the sides, his laughter ringing out into the room.

[small-sinclair]

In My Arms

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Contains: passionate kiss, cuddles

Enjoy

At the end of the day, the skies fade to a deep purple and a burning orange light. Vincent normally doesn't see sunsets, but he managed to snag the sight as you dragged him outside to the gentle green and yellow field of wildflowers. You carried a blanket and a picnic basket that you found from a tourist and packed it full with two sub sandwiches, a small container of brownies, and sodas.

"I know you've been working so hard lately," you said as you unfolded the blanket and placed it down. He took off his shoes as you had him sit next to you. "So, I decided to make you some dinner! I know it's not much but..." your voice trailed and paused as Vincent placed a hand over yours. You could fell his smile under his mask.

'It's okay. This is nice, too.' His hands signed. He knows you're still learning how to speak with him, and it'll take time before you and understand him fully. 'It's a nice spot you picked. Why here?'

You take out the paper plates and some napkins, setting them up for you and him. "There's a meteor shower tonight," you said with a smile. "I asked Bo it he could have the lights off in town, so we could get a perfect view." The last remaining sunlight lit a halo in your hair. "Also, it's getting a bit stuffy downstairs. You need some fresh air." You gave him his sub and placed yours in front of you, offering a smile. "And I thought you would need some inspiration from the shower! A little bit of space themes here and there would so some good, I think."

You looked forward and started eating your sub. Next to you, you saw the wax face sitting between you and him. It has been months before Vincent took his mask off around you. When you first saw his face, you thought he was the most prettiest human alive, perfect in every way. When he did have his mask off while you two shared a bed, you'd kiss his scars gently, making sure he knew how much he meant to you. the love for this man was beyond anyone's understanding. Bo would give you shit about it, but he knew that this was one of the best things that's happened to his twin. The kindness you give and the tender lover you two bloomed was just want the artist needed.

His raven hair hung on the other side of his face, and he was facing his "better" side. His bright blue eye sparkled in the dying sunset as his shoulders relaxed to the food. He loves it whenever you cook for him, either if it's just a sub sandwich or soup. He closed his eye and smiled to himself. It's been a while since he's eaten something, but he'll never tell you. Goodness, he's lucky to have him by his side. You'll never know how many drawings of you he has all over his workshop. The photo of you smiling tucked in a locket around his neck hidden under his shirt and a drawing of you sleeping in bed hidden under scraps of papers... he'll keep it hidden from you as long as he can.

"You okay, Vincent?" Your words interrupted his thoughts. "You've been chewing the same bite for a while now."

He swallows hard, blushing in embarrassment.

You put the last two bites of your sub down and slid next to him, putting the mask on the other side of you with care. "What's going on in that mind of yours, darling? Something wrong?"

He shakes his head as he put his sub down. 'Just thinking about things. That's all. I promise.'

You lifted a brow as you playfully nudged his side. "Was I one of those things?"

He lifts his shoulders, laughing silently to himself. You rested your head on his shoulder as you looked at the purple and blue sky. The hum of bullfrogs and crickets started their song, singing for Louisiana herself. You hand intertwines in Vincent's, his other hand holding the sub. The comfortable silence between you two was filled with the sounds of the marsh and bright firefly lights. They circled you two, lighting Vincent's eye in flames and gentle glows. It almost felt as if a part of heaven has dropped on you two.

He finished his sandwich, wiped his hands, and, shifting slightly, he lifted you up to place you on his lap. You let out a giggle as he buried his head into your neck, leaving small kisses down your skin. He held you close as he looks up to the sky. His scars burned without any light as the other half looked up as the stars started to show. He looks breathless in the firefly light.

You blushed as you raised a hand, resting on his smooth skin. He jolts at your touch slightly, but he leans into your hand as a large hand held it there. He turned his head and placed a kiss on your palm. He looks back at you and grins as you blushed.

"Oh, Vincent," you whispered as you felt him pulling you closer and tighter. "You're so beautiful."

He rested his head against yours, his chest rising and falling ever so gently. When he looked into your eyes, he smiled. Fuck the stars in the sky and curse every planet and galaxy. You were his everything, and he could get lost in your gaze forever.

He leaned down and places a hesitant kiss against your lips before placing another, deepening it as he pulled you in. He wanted more of you, more, more, more, and deeper and deeper did the pit in is stomach grow. Vincent thought if he could have you close to him, he would be whole. he thought you completed him from every light and darkness, every daydream and nightmare. You calmed his heart and his mind when thoughts of blood and death plagued him, and he wanted to hold you close and never let go. His arms brought you closer, an arm holding your back to keep you upright and supported, his hans getting tangled in your hair. Your hands clung to his shirt, pulling gently as the grip tightened around the fabric.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathless. You rested against his head as you felt his warm breath down your skin. He lifted your head by the chin. He pushed your hair back and smiled warmly down at you. In his arms, you were here, you were real, you were his.

His lips parted as a raspy voice struggled out, "I love-love you, y/n."

Your eyes grew wide; you never heard him before. But your eyes returned to love as he stole a kiss. You smiled against his lips, your hands pushing his raven hair behind his ears.

"I love you more, Vincent," you said with your smile still showing. "I love you so much."

'All the stars in the world could never compare to you, my muse,' his signed against your skin. He met every word, and he'll repeat it over and over until your heart believes. He takes a deep breath and whispers, "I love you, y/n."

You rested your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Your eyes looked up to watch the meteor shower, but his eye never left you. Never once did they looked up. He had everything right here in his arms.

[macabrecake]

wifey, I got smth to ask you 🥺

can I ask for just getting my back blown out by infinite darkness Leon somewhere in the White House after the zombie attack?

Just him in that blue suit??

(also pls add some praise kink in there, I beg)

Gabby my beloved! Ask you shall receive! 💖

Minors step off from here please and thank you.

The White House…

Of all the zombie attacks Leon has had to bear witness to, forced to carry the mental and physical scars from, survived. The White House was the last place he'd ever expect to be hit. He can't say he's surprised though. Even now as he discusses with Jason on the subject of who started this with what virus, his adrenaline is shot. Not even fully taking in the conversation when his mind is on something else.

Or rather someone else.

Luckily, his search was brief when you just so happen to hastily round the corner and search before locking eyes with him. Your dire look of concern immediately falls away to relief at the sight of him, he can't but smile at that but the feeling is mutual.

He's quick to leave Jason and close what felt like a mile long distance between you two. As soon as your arms are around each other, you feel his larger stature softly squeeze your hips and gently scoot you along. A silent request to take you away for some much deserved privacy.

And you couldn't be more happy to oblige.

You let Leon pull you away from prying eyes into a nearby office and lock the door. Let him steal your breath with a ravishing kiss while he scoops you up with large, warm hands planted firmly on your ass. Let him manhandle you as he bends you over the desk and hikes the lower part of your dress up. Putting your soaked through lace panties on full display to show just how badly you need him.

It's truly a sight he'll never grow tired of.

Unable to resist, his hand ghosts down the skin of your backside to press his thumb against your weeping little pearl, still hidden behind the thin, soiled fabric. It elicits a soft breathy whine from you that Leon can't help but chuckle at, "Sorry sunshine, just love when you get messy like this."

Any other day the agent would love to tease you and draw this out a little more but, he just doesn't have the time and most certainly not the patience. With his pants quickly undone and pulled down just enough for his cock to be freed from it's restraints, his fingers suddenly tug your underwear to the side and sinks himself into your welcoming heat in one thrust.

The moan that escapes you would've most definitely drawn attention if it weren't for his hand clasping over your mouth to silence you, followed by sweet searing kisses pressed to your neck as he sets a rough, needy pace.

"That's it…" The dirty blonde softly coos into your ear, delighted with how your pussy squeezes the entirety of his length everytime he sinks back in with a rhythmic slap. "That's my good girl."

His words pour from his lips onto your body like the sweetest liquor, one you'll never deny and hope to stay intoxicated by everyday. Leon softly smiles into your hair. Because he knows it. Knows exactly what praise like that does to you. Your cute little muffled whimper and the desperate rock of your hips to meet his thrusts is all the answer he needs.

"Yeah, you're my good girl." He rumbles out in that low pretty groan. "Fuck, you were made to take me this good weren't you?" His composure soon shatters for a moment, leading him to bury his face in the crook of your neck with a hiss in an attempt to mask his own noise. Leon's voice then falls to a whisper, a secret uttered into your love stained skin that only you could keep.

"God you're perfect."

It's too much, in the best way possible. Tears of pure bliss fall from your eyes as you grace that edge of heaven, while your fingers card through his hair and hold on for dear life. His hand coming around to press the rough, warm pads of his fingers against your intimacy however, is what ultimately tips you over.

A soft cry tumbles into his hand as your orgasm leaves you quivering within his hold. Leon's thrusts instantly slow down to help you ride out your high, squishing your smaller frame between his body and the desk more while you gush on his fingers and around his cock before going still.

Your breath comes out in a quiet pant as you come back down from your cloud nine, that is until you release a sudden squeak when Leon slowly starts up his rhythm again. In his defense, eyeing the way your cunt throbbed and dripped around his dick was too fucking hot to ignore.

You're quick to pick your head up and look back at him. Only to meet his lips smashing against yours in another feverish kiss, swallowing your pretty sounds like a shot of his favorite whiskey.

The agent then pulls away, but just slightly, to softly speak. "Come on Princess, you can give me one more. Can't you?"

Seeing how handsomely disheveled he looks in that navy blue suit- hair messily sticking to his skin, cheeks flushed a wonderful shade of red, plush lips parted to let out his quiet huffs, and those pretty ocean eyes blown with all the love he has for you. Oh yeah, you most certainly accept another round.

You're Leon Scott Kennedy's good girl after all.

[roseeycreates-blog]

Imagine Tenzin, consumed by grief after Lin's passing, deciding to follow her into the afterlife.

After reading the bittersweet fanfic "Meant To Be" by @risingsoleil (check her ao3 page if you are a linzin fan. She's an amazing writer. I love her works!), an idea came to me: what if Tenzin journeyed through the 9 circles of Hell before reuniting with Lin in Paradise? Drawing from Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, specifically Dante's Inferno, Tenzin would confront his deepest fears and regrets in each circle, leading to a powerful and emotional reunion with Lin in the afterlife.

So here's Tenzin:

(Sorry about the arrow, I just added that detail because Picrew doesn't have that option.)

I chose a red arrow instead of blue to symbolize that he took his own life, which is why he's in Hell (all life is sacred). I dressed him in a red robe and added a golden choker. Finally, he has an earring with Lin's eye color, given to him by his guide.

His guide, Iroh:

In this story, He is Tenzin's Virgil, guiding him through the 9 circles of Hell. Lin asks Iroh to help Tenzin on his journey and gives him the earring that Tenzin wears. It's a symbol of Lin's presence with him throughout the journey.

Lastly, Lin:

(Can I just say she looks so pretty, I also added the scars)

Tenzin's Beatrice is waiting for him in Paradise. he’s also wearing an earring with Tenzin’s eye color, showing that she’s waiting for him on the other side.

( Picrew link male | female )

9 Circles of Hell:

The First Circle: Limbo

He comes across an unborn child and learns that Lin had a miscarriage after they broke up. He then sees a vision of what their life might have been if the child had lived. When he snaps out of this illusion, he finds himself holding a deformed baby.

The Second Circle: Lust

He reflects on his own desires and the complicated nature of his love for Lin. Temptations hit hard with visions of women pampering him, including an illusion of Pema. Just as he's about to give in, he sees Lin watching him, which snaps him back to his true goal: to be with her.

The Third Circle: Gluttony

He witnesses wealthy high-ranking figures, some from the Earth Kingdom, being devoured by beasts. They endlessly heal and suffer, showing the impact of their excessive wealth on others. This makes him rethink his own lifestyle.

The Fourth Circle: Greed

He sees greedy souls, including mercenaries and assassins like the combustion bender who hunted his parents, being crushed by boulders of gold. This makes him reflect on his own struggles—not for money, but the selfishness that came from the pressure to repopulate the Air Nation after his father’s death.

The Fifth Circle: Wrath

He encounters fallen soldiers from endless wars, especially Fire Nation armies from the Hundred Year War, stuck in muddy rivers that act like quicksand. This scene stirs up memories of the conflicts he and Lin faced before their breakup.

The Sixth Circle: Heresy

He sees people consumed by evil spirits. Unalaq is burning in a fiery tomb as punishment for his dark deeds. It makes him think about whether his own followers, who idolize airbenders, might end up suffering the same way.

The Seventh Circle: Violence

He sees the spirits of Fire Nation leaders who committed violence against innocents. One of them is the person who killed his grandmother. He realizes he belongs in this circle too, as he committed violence by taking his own life.

The Eighth Circle: Fraud

He sees scammers, manipulators, and impostors who deceive others for their gain. Hama, the first bloodbender, pretends to be a helpless old woman to trick people like Katara into helping her get revenge. He also sees an illusion of himself saying he's a fraud, struggling to be himself while trying to meet others’ expectations.

The Ninth Circle: Treachery

Finally, he sees betrayers, including Firelord Sozin and Ozai, frozen in icy pits. One of them accuses him, saying, “You also betrayed Lin—remember, you cheated!” The crowd roars, but as he’s overwhelmed by darkness, the earring starts to glow. Iroh steps in to guide him to the exit.

Reaching Paradise:

After everything that happened, Lin hugged him tightly. They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, overwhelmed by the joy of being reunited. Their smiles said it all—despite the pain and challenges, they were together again, and that made everything worthwhile.

"I died," Lin said quietly. "And you weren’t there."

"I know," he replied, looking down. "I heard from Akna about your last words..."

"Shhh," Lin cut him off gently, her voice softening. "No need to dwell on that."

"But I came here," he said earnestly, his eyes meeting hers.

"You came to find me," Lin said, her eyes shining with happiness.

"Of course I did," he said with a tender smile. "I couldn’t do anything else."

Then Lin gave him a bit of a lecture about his actions.

(lines from Castlevania)

[wannab-urs]

Burn Slowly/I Love You | Chapter 1

Warnings/Content/Summary: As always I live in a fantasy world where no one gets pregnant or gets STDs and no one uses a condom. This is fiction. Wear a fucking condom. Sex while intoxicated but like it’s two maybe three beers y’all they aren’t drunk. Alternating POV kind of? Reader has burn scars on her left arm, wrapping over her shoulder and a bit onto her chest. No other physical descriptors. Remember that Frankie is strong as hell so it doesn’t matter if you’re petite or amazonian, this man can toss you around all he wants to. Fuck first feelings later type beat. Eventual descriptions of PTSD, trauma, minor character death, panic attacks, flashbacks, etc.

Word Count - 2.2k

Your Chest is Heavy

You’re sitting at the worn oak counter of a dive bar just a few blocks from your apartment with a cheap beer and a copy of The Secret History. Reading at the bar is a good way to scare off most men who would normally approach you. The rest usually fuck off when you don’t even look up from the book, muttering “not interested” in their direction. It’s really hard to focus on this book, though. The plot is a little meandering, for one, but there’s also a lot of people here tonight making it loud. 

A sudden burst of laughter draws your attention. A group of guys stand around a hightop table on the far side of the room. At first glance, none are particularly appealing to you. Rowdy, obscenely muscular, clean shaven, close cropped hair. Not your type at all. You’re just about to go back to your book when one of the guys catches your eye. He doesn’t look quite like the others. Unruly dark curls stick out of a ballcap, a scruffy beard clings to his cheeks. He’s got broad shoulders and big arms like the others, but his face is softer around the edges. His eyes are still caught in the crinkles of his laughter when he meets your stare. Shit you’re staring. 

You quickly look back down at your book, curling in on yourself, hoping he doesn’t come over. You’ve basically used universal bar sign language for come talk to me and that is not what you want. Even if he’s really cute. 

“Dude, she was practically eating you with her eyes. Go over there!” Benny playfully nudges Frankie on the shoulder. 

“You haven’t had any action in ages, Catfish. Go,” Pope teases. 

Frankie scrubs a hand over his neck. “I don’t know. She was probably looking at you, Benny.” 

“She was definitely looking at you, Fish,” Will seems genuine, tone softer and less like he’s setting Frankie up to fail. 

Frankie sighs, lifting his cap and running a hand through his curls before stuffing it back on his head. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her.” The boys cheer like his love life is a fucking football game and he just scored a touchdown. 

Frankie slips into a bar stool beside you. “Uh… hi,” he says sheepishly. He feels like an idiot for doing this. 

“Not interested,” you mutter, barely even looking up from your book. Frankie’s face grows hot with shame. The boys will never let this go. Not a shot in hell. He sits there for a second, caught between facing your wrath if he doesn’t leave and facing the humiliation if he does. But just as he makes the decision to go, you look up at him. “Wait! I’m sorry. Habit.” 

Frankie cocks an eyebrow, but settles back into his seat. “I’m Frankie. Can I buy you a beer?”

“Yeah, Frankie. I’d like that.”

It wouldn’t have been right to send the man away without at least talking to him. That’s how you justify it to yourself. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was absolutely gorgeous up close. In that first quick glance you’d caught the curve of his aquiline nose, the pout of his plump lips, and the blush creeping over his golden cheeks. That was enough to warrant at least a conversation. 

And fuck it was a good conversation. He asked about your book, which led to a rant about all the reasons you didn’t like it and all the reasons you were still reading it anyway, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he grinned at you. “What?” 

“It’s cute when you ramble,” he’d said, scratching the back of his neck. 

You talked about your job at the library and he told you he’s an ambulance driver. He jerked a thumb toward the guys still nursing their beers behind him, “Firefighters. Buncha pendejos,” he’d said a little too loudly, winking at you. 

You had fully intended on letting him down gently. You didn’t come here to find someone to go home with, you came here to have a beer. And yet you had asked him if he wanted to head out of the bar. And now you’re sitting in  his truck, rolling down the highway.

“Can you turn the AC on?” You’re sweating through your long sleeve black shirt from the heat and your own nervousness. 

“Uh… It’s broken. I’m sorry,” Frankie kind of winces, like it physically hurts him to admit. “Not far from the house though.” 

“It’s fine! Just a little warm,” you play with the sleeve of your shirt and take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s just a little heat. You’ll be okay. Breathe. “Actually, can I roll the window down?” 

Frankie chuckles and hits the button to roll all the windows in the truck down. Your heart rate evens out as the night air hits your face. 

The truck rolls to a stop in front of a small white house. You pick at your fingers, seriously questioning if you made the right choice. He seems so sweet. You feel… safe with him. But-

“Cariño? We’re here,” Frankie speaks low, like he’s worried you’ll spook and take off. He slowly reaches over the console and takes your hand, stopping your fidgeting. He rubs a soothing thumb over the back of your hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah!” you say too quickly, too loudly in the stillness of the truck cab. “It’s just, uh… It’s been a while. I’m nervous.” Frankie pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it before laying it gently back down on the console. 

“It’s been a while for me too. I’ll take care of you, though. Promise.” He winks at you and it’s so dorky and cute that it calms you down a little. 

Frankie barely gets you through the door before he gently presses you into the wall and his soft, plush lips find yours. You melt into the kiss, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. You knock his trucker hat to the floor and bury your hands in his hair, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue. He tastes like cheap beer and his beard scrapes against the soft skin of your face. He smells like citrus and sandalwood. Your senses are gently overpowered by him, a soft wash of Frankie covering you and settling what remains of your nerves. 

Every fear you had comes rushing back as he slips his fingertips under the hem of your shirt. You freeze before grabbing his wrist and placing a palm on his chest, pushing him away gently. “Shirt stays on and hands stay outside of it, okay? I’m sorry…” Your body tenses in anticipation of the rejection you know is coming. He’ll kick you out. Or disregard your wishes. 

Frankie’s hands find your cheeks, drawing your face up to look at him. “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” He kisses you gently, reassuringly. It hits you again that you trust this stranger you just met in a bar. You deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hitches his hands under your thighs and pulls them up around his waist, settling you against his very prominent arousal. You roll yourself against him and he groans into your mouth. His hands wrap tightly around your body and he carries you down the hallway. 

He lays you gently on the bed and immediately goes for the button of your jeans, making sure to stay clear of your shirt. He tosses your jeans and underwear on the floor and drops to his knees beside the bed. 

“Oh, Frankie, you don’t have to-” your sentence is cut off by the low moan erupting from your throat as Frankie pulls your legs over his broad shoulders and buries his face in your cunt. His hooked nose grinds against your clit as he licks into you. Your hands find purchase in his curls and you roll your hips into him, grinding on his face. Frankie eats it up… literally. He groans into your pussy and you feel it reverberate through your entire body. Your head is thrown back in absolute ecstasy as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it rhythmically. You clench around nothing, pleasure curling up in your core. “Please, fuck, don’t stop. So close,” you cry out. Your voice is desperate, wrecked, and your hips are thrusting involuntarily against his face. 

You come with a near pained shout, hands tightening in Frankie’s hair and pulling him into you even harder as you grind on his nose. Frankie licks a trail from your entrance up to your mound, then presses kisses all the way up your clothed stomach and chest. He nips at your jaw as he unbuttons his pants and clumsily shoves them off with one hand, like he can’t bear to take his mouth away from you. 

“Taste so fucking sweet, hermosa,” he rumbles in your ear. “Could eat you out all night, if you’d let me.” 

You think you would let him, if you couldn’t feel his hardness pressed against your thigh. “Another time, Frankie.” You push your thigh against him. “Fuck me, please.” 

Frankie doesn’t need to be told twice. He stands up and pulls you further to the edge of the bed. He looks down at you, unconsciously licking his lips. “Fucking gorgeous…” he says under his breath. You could say the same about him. Half his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat and half are standing wild from your fingers raking through them. His big brown eyes are wide, almost in awe. His upper half is wrapped in a tight white t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and strong chest. 

He grips his thick, uncut cock in his fist and lines it up with your entrance before grabbing your hips. He pulls your hips into him, splitting you wide open without moving his hips an inch. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so full in your fucking life. Your hands fly to his muscular forearms, hanging on for dear life as he sheathes himself inside your tight heat. “Holy fuck, Frankie.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” Frankie whispers as he bends to cover your body with his. He drags his cock out a couple of inches and rolls his hips in a fluid motion, sinking back into you and grinding against your clit on every stroke. Moans spill from your lips unchecked. You don’t care if you sound sexy or if the words you’re babbling make any sense because he feels so fucking good. 

Frankie sits up and wedges his knees under your thighs, kneeling on the edge of the bed. He grips your hips in his strong hands and easily pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your arms fly above your head, grasping onto the sheets. Your shirt rides up a little with the motion and you almost panic, but Frankie tangles his fingers into the fabric and holds the hem tight against your torso. Safe. You trust him.

Frankie grips you so hard you know you’ll bruise and slams his hips into yours, driving you closer and closer to coming. “You feel… so good, cariño. So. Fucking. Tight,” Frankie bites out between thrusts. You babble incoherently, the head of his cock is slamming into your cervix and it’s making you feel a little fuzzy around the edges. Nothing matters except Frankie’s cock buried inside you and the coil of pleasure building in your gut. He’s fucking you like a rag doll, now. Your body has gone boneless with the intensity of him inside you.

Your orgasm rips through you like a flame, burning you up from the inside out. You scream his name as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body goes taut with pleasure. Frankie steadily, brutally, fucks you through it. When your cunt finally stops convulsing around him, he drops your hips and leans over your limp, fucked out body. 

Frankie kisses you with a tenderness that seems at odds with the way he just fucked you, stuttering his hips into you one, two, three more times before pulling out and nestling his cock into the crease between your thigh and your torso. His cum splatters across your shirt in long spurts, coating you in his release. 

His forehead drops to yours and your heaving breaths mingle in the space between you. You meet his gaze and there’s something in his eyes… something like adoration. Affection. He shakes his head slightly and stands up. 

“I’ll get you a shirt to wear,” his voice comes out hoarse, rough with the after effects of his orgasm. He disappears into his closet and comes back with a big, long-sleeve t-shirt. You sit up slowly and take the shirt from him. 

“Thank you, Frankie,” you whisper. 

Frankie wakes up in his bed alone. His brow furrows in disappointment. He usually likes to make his hookups breakfast and drive them back to their car. He knows it’s a little weird, but it’s important to him that he takes care of you. He flops onto his side and catches a glimpse of a piece of  paper on his nightstand. It’s your number, your name signed with a heart and a note promising to return the shirt. 

Frankie smiles, feeling something dangerously close to hope for the first time in a long time.

A/N: This fic has been in the works for a while now. The initial idea was pitched in a chat with @beskarandblasters and she supported me every step of the way <3. Thanks to the Whorehomies for hyping me and this idea up! I appreciate y'all more than you'll ever know. And thanks to @str84pedro for the beta/grammar edit I love you!

Let me know if you want to be tagged <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @harriedandharassed, @jksprincess10, @fishingforpike, @dreamingofdaddydin, @sad-bitch-disorder