#also circling back for a second can I just SAY. that I love the balance of their vulnerabilities

[etherfraisie]

Sunset

Sylus x fem!reader

A bet for dinner turned into something more precious

word count: 1.148 words

note: this was written with fem!reader in mind but no Y/N is used and can also be used for OCs. leaving a comment is greatly appreciated! happy reading<3

--***--

“I know you love a bet.”

“And I know you hate when I go easy on you.”

They had been halfway through an auction when they decided to just ditch it for a walk at the beach. Sylus even left his motorcycle at the auction’s parking lot because she insisted that she wanted to walk to the beach, but then again, even if his motorcycle were to be stolen, he will get it back one way or another. 

They reached the beach a few minutes ago, now walking towards the shore. She kicks her heels off and just leaves it there as she walks faster towards the water, Sylus picks up her heels before following behind her not too far. As her feet touch the water, she looks back to her beloved. “Take off your shoes, will you? Feel the water, it’s refreshing!”

“I’m sure the drinks at the auction are more refreshing than sea water, Sweetie.” But even then, he stops to do as she told him to before joining at her side to admire the ocean. There’s a comfortable silence between them, one they are used to. Sylus, as much as he enjoys listening to his beloved talk about her day, enjoys the silence they share together the same amount. In truth, Sylus wouldn’t mind doing anything as long as his beloved is there. He would drop everything in a heartbeat if her beloved ever just says she wants to live a simple life in the countryside. 

“Last one to reach those big rocks has to pay for dinner tonight!” she suddenly says. Sylus looks at the direction she’s pointing. He can see a couple of big rocks not too far from them but still far enough to be quite a run from where they’re standing.

“You’re on,” he says as he smirks, amused at her competitiveness.

“On the count of three!”

“One… two–” but before Sylus could finish counting down, she’s already started to run. Sylus just shakes his head and laughs at the display of childishness and then joins her to run towards the appointed rocks as the finish line. Although, he’s not much on trying to win and just wants to catch up with her. But that doesn’t mean he wants to let her win just like that. He picks up his speed, easily catching up to her until he runs in front of her. He only meant to tease, because in his mind, a few feet before reaching the rocks, he plans to slow down. Making sure she thinks he’s running out of stamina and she’s able to win over him. He’s already set to pay for the dinner the moment she placed that bet anyways. But he never gets the chance to do his grand scheme of slowing down, because not long after he’s running in front of her, he hears a loud thud and her groan following quickly.

Perhaps there’s a sharp clam or rocks that she accidentally steps on. It pierces through her foot, causing her to lose balance and trips on her own leg. To put salt on her wounds, she scrapes her knees as she falls and sprains her ankle. Sylus didn’t waste a single second to be at her side, helping her into a comfortable position and then checking on her wounds. She lets out a strain laugh to light up the panic in Sylus’s eyes but it doesn’t seem to help.

“Can you walk?” he asks her as he wipes off some sand that sticks to her legs.

“Well, technically I can, just a bit slower,” she answers him sheepishly.

Sylus then quickly shifts to offer his back to her, “I’ll carry you. I won’t take no.”

Reluctantly, although deep down she enjoys being pampered by him, she circles her arms around his neck and raises her legs a bit so that he can hold onto the underside of her thighs to carry her. He then stands up and starts walking to the rocks again, his beloved safely being carried on his back, and both of their shoes he carries on both his hands.

“I guess I’ll pay for dinner tonight,” she says, filling up the silence.

“Who says I've won already?” Sylus responds to her in a teasing tone. Before she can ask what he meant, Sylus already turns his back. He’s walking backwards. It took her a few seconds to realize what he’s trying to do. She laughs when it finally dawns at her.

“Is this your pity excuse so that you can pay for dinner?” She pinches his cheek.

“Whatever you mean by that?” Sylus smiles, not really putting much effort in avoiding her question. “Look, it’s sunset already.”

She looks to the side. The sun has just touched the sea and is slowly sinking down as he keeps walking backwards. The orange hues surround them, making everything seem warm, which it is. She loves soft moments like this with him. Where they’re both aren’t tied with the responsibility of their jobs for a short time. Where no one is around to see how calm he is right now. No one shall see this side of him. No one but her.

She tightens her arms to hug his neck tighter and nuzzles her cheek to his hair, smelling her shampoo that he used earlier today cause he had just ran out on his own and he hadn’t had the time to buy another. She would’ve scolds him for using her shampoo, but truth be told, she likes to share her own stuff with her beloved. She would never admit that though, so she flicks her finger to the side of his temple. “You used my shampoo didn’t you?”

“I did. I like the smell.”

“I don’t remember allowing you to use it.”

“I asked before I use it, Sweetie. You were busy with Mephisto but you said yes anyway.”

“Guess I didn’t really pay attention.” She slumps to his shoulder, lips pouting.

“If you’re worried about your shampoo running out, I don’t mind buying it for you. We’re running out of necessities at home anyway, so we’re due for grocery shopping.” He leans his head to hers, a small attempt at reassuring her. “We’ll go after dinner.”

“You’re so kind to me,” she says barely above whisper, but he heard her nonetheless.

“It’s nothing, Sweetheart. It’s the least I can do.”

Sylus then stops as they’re reaching the rocks. She turns her body slightly so she’s able to touch the rock. She then hugs him again. “Dinner time!”

He laughs at her enthusiasm. “I see it is less about who pays for dinner and more about eating that dinner itself.”

“Come on, let’s go. Are you not starving?”

“Hold on, Sweetie, we still have to patch up those wounds you have.”

“Fine, but after that, we go straight to dinner!”

“Ofcourse, Sweetheart.”

[itspileofgoodthings]

I don’t even fully know why but “what do I do when I miss you so much?” / “Just wait, and pray desperately” was a knife to my heart in the best way.

[starlight-45]

Dating Bllk boys in school! (Part 1)

Featuring: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Rin Itoshi (Part 2 with Hyoma Chigiri, Reo Mikage and Seishiro Nagi)

A/n: don't know where this shit is set. It has their current personalities and still in blue lock. Maybe taking a break from it and go to school for a change. I don't know, okay? (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Masterlist here!

~ISAGI YOICHI~

• Yoichi, eh? One of the rare ones who still managed to retain his sanity off field good work-life balance bro.

• Jokes aside, of course he has gotten more confident and takes no bullshit now. A bit oblivious to the popularity he has though, but is given reminders every now and then by the students.

• But aside from that, he is still the sweetheart just like before. So humble and down to earth. Husband material.

• Is a bit shy when it comes to holding hands in the hallways, or anywhere you guys are seen by other students. It ain't like he is scared of anything or anyone.

• Yoichi is simply concerned that you are uncomfortable, and people don't annoy you behind his back. It's very endearing when he tries to explain it. he is just sweet like that 😭

• If anyone does annoy or hits on you, he will curse them and their entire bloodline with the most insane slurs.

• Not in front of you though. Yoichi doesn't want you to stop having that pretty smile of yours, especially because of him.

• While he definitely is a bit reluctant to show affection in the campus for the reasons given above, please don't refrain yourself to do the same.

• Absolutely LOVES when you kiss his cheek or hold his arm where everyone can see you guys! Good. He needs to give those idiots less attention and more on you.

• However, if you are shy/feeling shy at that moment to do anything, Isagi is just internally screaming how cute you are.

• Yoichi definitely yaps about his day to you on the way back to school, about how boring his classes were, about his classmates, etc.

• When he realises he spoke for like 20 minutes without even a second break and has the cutest blush on his face because he got embarrassed about it.

• Apologises right away with that same cute blush and smile, and you're like just looking at him calmly while internally saying "Alright. He's the one. I'm marrying this idiot."

• Is it that obvious that I find this idiot to be the cutest? But again, who doesn't?

• Oh by the way, his academics haven't improved a bit after going to blue lock, in fact they have gotten worse.

• So definitely invites you over to help him with schoolwork as an excuse to spend time with you. Despite grades being useless as hell for him.

• Isagi is truly guilty about it, he really is, but he focuses on how your thighs look in that mini-skirt than your teachings of trigonometry.

• Is good at projects though, with all the research and presentation work. He really doesn't care about his project submission dates but definetly helps you out with deadlines.

• Again, definitely an excuse to spend more time with you! Also no matter what he does he is still freaking useless in revisions for test. 😂

• Also, surprisingly doesn't really make an effort to make new friends in school, just hanging out with you and your circle sometimes.

• He already got soccer, family and you, what else can a man want???

~MEGURU BACHIRA~

• Bachira was initially very hesitant to go back to school, even for a short time. He finally had some friends at Blue lock who understand his passion for the game and he didn't wanna be alone again.

• However his mother convinced him to get a change of environment, and you were there in that school too so he agreed.

• Bachira has also changed a lot since blue lock, now no longer caring people finding him weird and especially so after being with you.

• Now he's more focused on having fun and spending time with you! Yay!

• Definitely waves to you and calls your name like an excited kid from the window of your class when he is going out for PE in the 4th period everyday.

• He doesn't care if there is the strict mathematics teacher or the gossipy students, Bachira does it anyway. Whereas you just wave back, embarrassed.

• Literally this has become a running joke in your class that in 4th period a golden retriever will be there outside the window, even your teachers can't stop their giggling every time he does it!

• Is shameless with PDA, he doesn't care the discipline head in on the round, he can and will hold your hand and kiss you all over in the hallways.

• And you internally curse yourself that you love this golden retriever way too much to actually make him stop doing this you love it secretly too.

• Please keep an eye on him whenever you can because he's very prone to getting into physical fights (doesn't do it too much though. He doesn't wanna get suspended and miss your pretty face).

• However he will go above and beyond if you ask him to beat someone up, maybe a bit too much.

• "Ugh that guy was so rude to me, who does he think he is-?"

"Should I beat that idiot into last week?!"

"MEGURU NO-"

• Whenever you try to teach him concepts of mathematics and science, is asking the most stupid questions. (*someone yells at the author* "There's no such thing as a stupid question!") Okay, okay his questions are....creative.

• "If a right angle triangle is 90°, then is a left angle triangle -90°?"

"Why did I even-"

• This little menance doesn't even do it 'cause he wants to annoy you. He does it because it is his geunine doubts. Which somehow makes it even worse.

• He also doesn't get shy from asking these stupid creative questions in front of the teacher as well. Maybe that's why he spends more time outside the classroom than inside lol

• Even though he doesn't care about others and is a loveable ball of sunshine, he also has his off days.

• Days where he is unsure of himself and the mean comments the other students make behind his back get to him.

• And of course you being the amazing person you are, do everything in your to make him feel better about himself!

• Meguru is your darling, he should never feel bad about being himself! Words truly can't describe how much he is grateful for your efforts.

~RIN ITOSHI~

• Absolutely didn't want to go back to school if it wasn't already obvious. Rin doesn't need a fucking change of environment. He absolutely breathes and lives soccer.

• Not a single second of his life goes when he doesn't want to crush Isagi and his brother and he can't get distracted and absolutely no one can convince him otherwise-

• Except for you. It was pretty easy actually. All it took was a bit of whining, some doe eyes and voilà he was in your school for a few months.

• Doesn't know or care about any of the subjects which are though in this education center. Too lukewarm, he says. Maybe expect for PE, art or english but that's about it.

• Please save him from those stupid calligraphy classes. Please. He'll die of boredom and his hands will fall off. his words not mine

• Instantly becomes popular between everyone, by the way, and why wouldn't he be? Good lucks, talented, and ambitious. However, the other students don't exist for him. He only has his eyes for you and you only :D

• "Haha...you sure catch many eyes huh?"

"I don't care. They spend their time admiring someone for their surface level attributes and are content in that shit. Lukewarm."

• You definitely try to use the excuse of helping him study to spend time with him, but you know he doesn't do anything other than soccer and sometimes English.

• Like. When you call him...

"Hey, can I come over to help you with your assignments, I'm done with mine so-"

"Seriously? Do you think I care about that? If you wanna actually have something exciting then come."

• Ironically helps you study English though, emphasizing on why it's important and all.

• This guy is strict as hell though. Won't let you leave the table until you have solved the comprehension with all correct answers.

• Doesn't care about showing affection in front of everyone, he will do whatever he feels at the moment. Always holds your hand and kisses the top of your head sometimes while doing so.

• Which has you kicking your feet in air, all giggling and happy inside, and while on the outside you're shy as hell.

• Though Rin says he doesn't care and he really doesn't care about other subjects, he still manges to get a decent score! Not a straight A+ or anything but still like a B.

• His ability to comprehend and calculate is pretty good naturally, which is an achievement for someone who doesn't even know how the front cover of the books in the curriculum.

• On chilly days, Rin wordlessly gives you his jacket without a word he doesn't trust you enough to remember getting one.

• Would be sooo offended if you happen to pass by him during school hours and don't wave or acknowledge him. Yes he is aware he doesn't do it either but that's different okay?!

• Would act extra grumpy and aloof, which is unfortunately for him more cute than indimidating.

• Don't fun of him okay? Rin thought you loved him, and here you are not even acknowledgeding his existence you just didn't notice him as you were with a friend.

• Don't worry though, he's back to normal after a hug, few kisses and assuring words in your soothing voice :)

[polarisbibliotheque]

Vergil and his s/o training together

Or Vergil and his s/o spar for foreplay fun!

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: With your sword recently broken, Vergil gave you a new devil arm to get used to. He is also your mentor when it comes to fighting - but being his lover doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. Quite the contrary.

Restrictions: None, BUT I should tell you: lots of sexual tension in this one. What can I say, Vergil is a weird guy, sparring with his lover does things to him. Nothing explicit though, you know how I roll. Also, reader gets bruises from training/sparring. He's rough and doesn't hold back, I mentioned it before I think Vergil has this "only the strong survive" mentality, and I do think he gets ruthless as a sign of respect for his lover's abilities rather than anything else.

Author's Notes: I blame @yanderebishforlevi for this one after they dropped an ask I just answered :) I'm focusing on the Halloween specials, but that made me go through my unfinished, discarded, short stuff on limbo and rehash/put it together to post something new here.

Simple stuff, not really much of a story, just some training with sexy, bared arms, ruthless, emotionally constipated man. That's why I never thought about posting, it felt like it was missing something a plot so I was going to put it in Nemesis but, oh well. Hope you guys like it xD

“We’re done for today.”

Vergil’s words sounded final, as he lowered the Yamato after a devastating blow that had you tumbling back and struggling to fall on your knees – scraping them in a way you would have some bruises to display for a couple of days at least.

“Given it’s my training session, love…” You growled while pulling yourself back on your feet, using your sword as a crutch for help. Vergil observed you with those cutting silvery eyes, almost as if questioning your resolve to pull yourself up. Again. “I say when we are done. And I am not done.”

“You are being terribly stubborn, that is.” Vergil had Yamato back in its sheath, arms crossed while curiously watching you take your coat off, having only your training clothes underneath.

“Well, at least we got that in common, Dark Slayer.” You carefully watched as Vergil mirrored you and took off his own long coat, leaving his arms bare for the first time that night. He only did that when he was about to get rough during training – and you had to huff a laugh. “I’m only standing down when I master this damned sword, and apparently I’m not even close to that.”

“You are closer than you were when we started.” He took a deep breath, already choosing a fighting stance since you were doing the same – walking slowly in a circle, observing him with a pair of predatorial eyes. Vergil was used to be under that scrutiny around demons, but when it came to your eyes, they were threatening… And bewitching.

“And I would be even closer, if you hadn’t been cheating this whole time.” You narrowed your eyes, allowing a smirk color the corner of your lips as Vergil froze in place – you could even bet he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

“Cheating…?” His voice was dangerously low, words alarmingly taking their time, savoring every syllable of that little word. You knew you had struck a nerve – but, in your defense, Vergil had been striking your nerves ever since you started training a few hours prior.

It had been a couple of weeks you had a new sword in your inventory: big, heavy, resembling a claymore. Dante and Vergil had killed one particularly powerful demon that ended up becoming the sword now in your hands: brimming with demonic power, ready to be wielded to bring doom to its enemies. You had your previous sword broken into shards while protecting Nero during one of your jobs – a story for another time – and Vergil thought the claymore of sorts would be a nice replacement.

A new weapon, though, meant a lot of new things: new grip, new balance, new weight, new powers… So much to master, but you had to learn soon in order to keep up with your devil hunter job. Halloween was approaching and, given how chaotic the last few years were, you had to at least master the basics soon enough.

Vergil, being the thoughtful partner and lover of knowledge that he was, offered to help you train and master your new sword – all his arcane teachings would surely come in handy when dealing with a devil arm.

You had a problem, though. Learning and mastering things on your own was almost a given, and you always expected to do it at your pace – meaning, you didn’t have much patience to not be at least good and easily fighting after a few hours of practice. With a mentor like Vergil, though, that process was taking double the time.

He was relentless. You being his lover just meant he would go twice as hard on you – in his dictionary, it probably meant how much he adored you; but in your dictionary, you were absolutely and infinitely vexed that, by now, you hadn’t been able to at least get to a tie with him.

And that was something you always proudly said you could do.

“Yes. Cheating.” You held your sword with only one hand, throwing it behind your body and having your eyes fixed on your lover. That way, when you or him decided to attack, you could use all your strength to lunge forward. “You got exponentially worse every time I lost and got back on my feet again; you haven’t made it easier nor remained with the same level of fighting from the beginning. You are making it more difficult for me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve already had my sword on your throat by now.”

“Tsk.” You smiled as Vergil finally had that nonchalant attitude, but his eyes burned like the coldest circles of Hell. With a swift move, he unsheathed the Yamato and attacked you – as you had already prepared before, you threw your sword forward, immediately able to parry. He quickly tried another attack, but you managed to grip your sword with both of your hands and hold him back. You found Vergil’s silvery eyes staring at you sharply between the blades of your swords. “Don’t expect demons to have mercy just because the sight of you eclipses even the moon herself.”

“If we weren’t sparring, I’d take that as a compliment.” You had a small laugh hidden amidst your words, clearly seeing the shadow of a smile Vergil tried to conceal before he pushed you back with only half of his might – still having you stumble back and use whatever energy you had left to keep your body balanced.

“Your human body won’t be able to take it for too long.” And even if Vergil was trying to convince you to stand down, he still circled you, keeping his own predatorial gaze on your form and tense shoulders to quickly get into a fighting stance. You weren’t one easy to convince when you had your mind set on something, that he had to admit. “We should call it a day and tend your wounds. Your body doesn’t have the same resilience a devil’s body has.”

“I would have a lot more if you hadn’t been ruthless with me, love.” You pointed at some slight marks on your body – nothing too jarring, but still making an appearance here and there. “These bruises are on you.”

With those words, it was your turn to lunge forward and attack first. Vergil easily defended with a swift move from Yamato, trying an attack right after. You managed to defend as well, holding him still for a few seconds.

“They will make you stronger.” Were the only words he managed to answer before you attacked again. Vergil seemed to fight effortlessly, while you had to muster all your strength to wield your new sword – Vergil was right to say your body wouldn’t last for too long: you were already tired, thanks to his training, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down. And he knew that.

Even if Vergil worried about your stamina, he couldn’t deny how much he admired – and had a pang of pride in his own heart – every time you displayed that much willpower.

With a calculated attack to disarm you, Vergil was certain your playing would come to an end and he would have the final word on that argument – he did not expect, though, a graceful move from your side, spinning such a heavy sword in one of your hands and making it face down, coming between you and him and completely breaking his stance, foiling Vergil’s attempt to end your resolve.

You quickly threw your sword a little on the air in front of you in order to let go from the grip and hold the blade itself – strong enough to be able to wield it, but careful not to hurt yourself in the process – which gave you the perfect opportunity to spin around him and smack the hilt of your sword on his back.

Vergil slowly turned his head around, still impressed by your swift move after being so tired, only to find you with a smug smile on your lips.

“It will make you stronger.” You pointed at him with the hilt of your sword, throwing it slightly in the air again so you could grab the hilt with one hand and then another.

Vergil kept his back at you, calmly walking to the other side of the room so you could take your initial stances again – but this time you saw him shaking his head and heard a low chuckle coming from him.

Vergil was a survivor, one that lived the law of the jungle for so long that sparring and teasing his partner was one of the best ways to entertain him. To say you were both having fun was an understatement.

“Apparently, I haven’t been ruthless enough with you.” He turned around, holding Yamato’s hilt with both of his hands. You had to hold back a smile – that was one of his stances that usually meant Vergil was starting to lose his patience and considering going all out.

And that usually happened when he recognized you were starting to get the upper hand – which meant he saw your playful sword smack as a sign you were starting to get the hang of things.

After all, you only did that sort of thing with your old sword. Comparing to the way you both used to spar, he was going considerably easier on you tonight.

“Let’s remedy that.” His voice was almost a growl as his feet moved like lightning on the floor.

You had to put all your concentration in that fight – your eyes never leaving the Yamato, quickly finding the blade in the air from its shimmer and parrying with your heavy claymore. Using your weight, you pushed Vergil back – which only worked because he saw it as an opportunity to power another heavy attack to try to get you off-balance. You stumbled a little, but quickly gained your balance once more, holding back another quick attack from your lover – something quite frustrating for him, as you observed in his furrowed brows.

Even if he wasn’t going easy on you, it was the first time Vergil was tapping into some of his demonic abilities – strength, speed and power, for starters – and you took that as a compliment. If he wasn’t going to cut you some slack, he could at least fight you the same way he always did – and Vergil never really held back when fighting you.

As he said before, it would only make you stronger. And that was why you could easily fight some of the most frightening demons of Hell without even breaking a sweat.

Vergil didn’t take long to attack you again. He had that look in his eyes he only used when he was hunting, leaving no room for mercy. You held your sword in a vertical position right in front of you, having the Yamato hit the flat blade of your claymore with enough power to have you and Vergil recoil a little from the impact.

Thankfully, your sword was sturdy enough to take a powerful blow from a legendary blade and its less than formidable wielder and not shatter. That was something you would remember later, for now Vergil attacked again and you defended, holding back a series of lightning quick attacks that required all your attention, strength and speed – as well as both of your hands holding your new sword in order to be able to avoid all of the attacks.

As expected, though, you hadn’t mastered your claymore yet. Your grip faltered in one of your hands, and Vergil’s predator eyes were quick enough to notice that and see a window of opportunity. Spinning the Yamato on his hand, Vergil gripped its hilt and used the butt-end to hit your hands and make you lose your grip on your sword.

As you tried to recover without losing too much of your stance, Vergil took the chance to spin around you – as you did before with him – and use the sheath of the Yamato to smack your back. A bit lower, and he would’ve smacked your ass – at least, he allowed you to keep a little of your pride, as you allowed him when you chose not to do that as well.

You immediately leaned the tip of your sword on the floor, side-eyeing your lover – only to find him with his head held high, that convinced expression he would always wear whenever he had the upper hand, along with a ghost of a smile you knew very well.

“Shall we continue…?” His words were crowned with his usual slight tinge of arrogance, as you turned around and adjusted your grip around the hilt of your sword. “Or will you finally yield and allow me to take care of those wounds?”

“As my lover, you should know, Vergil…” You sighed and snapped your neck from side to side, getting back into position to fight. He had to raise one of his eyebrows, ever so impressed with your resilience. “I do not yield.”

His only answer was a smile before your powerful attack, holding you back with the Yamato still sheathed, using one of his feet behind his body as an anchor so he wouldn’t fall over. Even in his wildest dreams, Vergil could never had imagined he would find someone who would give such flawless answers. Yes, he wanted to care for you. But how could he deny the fire he saw in you when you said such things? It was the same fire that kept him alive for so many years; the same fire that made him get back on his feet even when defeat was certain, when all hope was lost, and only death and blood were expected. The same fire that made Vergil defy all odds and save himself, over and over again.

He didn’t know how he had found you neither how he could deserve you, but he did hope you remained for as long as he could have you.

With another attack, he took the opportunity to unsheathe his sword, using both the blade and the sheath to defend himself from a string of attacks as ruthless as those he had attacked you before. You didn’t see an opportunity, but you knew Vergil relied on a few tricks up his metaphorical sleeves, so you acted quickly to do the same he did before – and with the hilt of your claymore, you weakened his grip on the sheath, quickly spinning your sword and hitting it with all your might, making the blue sheath fly across the training ground. Vergil immediately held Yamato’s grip with both of his hands, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.

You could see it in his silvery eyes, though. You already knew how to expertly access them, to find Vergil’s emotions underneath the icy façade he used to wear. You had an advantage that made your heart swell and bolstered your resolve – and that Vergil was also able to read in your eyes. He fought back, putting a little more of his strength and power into a few riposte attacks, stopping your advances and making you fall a few steps back.

It wouldn’t be fair if he started using his demonic might when your body was almost giving out – but Vergil had to recognize you were lasting a lot longer than he expected. He thought, by now, your physical body wouldn’t be able to keep going, completely unrelated to your willpower. But there you were, proving him wrong – and making him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible.

Your hands trembled a bit, though. You kept your eyes locked in his, reading his every move, his every emotion – and Vergil did the same, as if your fight didn’t rely on your swords anymore. As he got ready for another devastating attack, your sword found his in the air and, spinning your blades together, you brought them down with a flick of your wrist, having them rest together a few inches inside the ground.

You turned your back for a few seconds to catch your breath, pain starting to ebb through your arms. Vergil took some steps back in amazement, since that move was a first: you had never taken a break from a fight by disarming him as well as yourself, even if for a few seconds; you only asked with words and it usually took a few minutes. He observed you carefully – part of him reading if your body was going to give out and part of him reading if you would jump on him unexpectedly. Vergil didn’t know what to expect, but he could feel his blood tingling at his fingertips, ready to take action with whatever it is that you had for him.

After a few seconds, you immediately turned around, locking your hands around the grip of your sword once more and lifting it from the ground. Vergil couldn’t believe you still wanted to fight – and even win – but mirrored your speed and had Yamato back in his grip once more.

A few more attacks. He could see your hands trembling. A few more steps. He could hear your shaking breaths. A few more swift moves. He could see the relentless fire inside your eyes.

Vergil didn’t make it easier because of your crumbling endurance – if you broke, it would serve as a lesson on assessing your own energy and how far you could go. As you knew right from the start, Vergil wasn’t a forgiving mentor and would push you to your limit – he didn’t exactly expect you would do the same thing with yourself as he did to himself in order to improve his fighting to perfection.

A flick of his wrist. A powerful move from your hands. You found yourselves drenched in sweat, in the middle of your training space, the Yamato touching your neck, and your claymore touching the skin on Vergil’s throat.

You had your eyes locked into his silvery gaze, the gleaming blades of your swords ignored as the only thing that dictated that fight was your willpower – yours and Vergil’s. As you looked into each other’s reflections, you stated something you didn’t have to say out loud to be understood: neither of you would ever yield.

As that knowing reached Vergil’s heart, that was only one thing he could really do – something his logical mind and demonic pride could never fathom as the proper response to that situation, but his human heart burned to have him do it. His free hand cupped your face, pulling you into an immediate kiss.

When your lips found his, you used your free hand to anchor yourself in place by holding the back of his neck, pulling Vergil towards you. It was a kiss that burned with the very same fire he saw in your eyes, the one he mirrored in his soul and rarely let out as something other than willpower to keep on surviving. That fire was a will to live, a will to keep going, a will for life… A lust to experience, to burn bright and intensely, to take everything existence had to offer. A lust you could only safely explore with each other, not having to channel that only into surviving, but also into living life as it should be lived.

One of the things Vergil would always tell you, was to never let your guard down. You could be calm and collected, apparently unprepared, but always aware of your surroundings – and ready to kill at every waking moment.

Anything could be a distraction, anything could be a weakness. Being that close to you, in the middle of a fight, with that whirlwind of emotions stirring like a lightning storm that had to have its energy released somehow… Even if you had your sword still in one of your hands as he had Yamato in his, your blades were lowered - you had your grip almost letting go, ready to forget it on the floor.

You had your guard down.

“A demon would have killed you by now.” Vergil’s voice was but a rough whisper as he broke the kiss, his lips barely away from yours, hot breath still ghosting on your skin.

“A demon wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Both of your swords found the floor in unison, as your hands found each other with your lips locking in another breathless kiss.

Fortunately, you were both imperfectly human.

[biibini]

Perhaps maybe Mizu as a bottom? Whimpering and begging for more. Reader talking her through it and being loving.

nsfw bottom!mizu x top!reader (request)

tags: dom!reader, bottom mizu, eating out, cunilingus, smut, 18+. begging, whimpering, praise, dirty talk, modern au

a/n: requests & posts r gonna be slowed down for now bc of school hahaha hahaha (i have three 3-hr classes back to back in one day im going to cry),,, anyways i'll shut up ab school and start writing with one hand down my pant-

18+ content below!

u and mizu are making out one night in bed one late night

nothing crazy but its getting really heated

usually, u would let her stay on top and continue to mess u up with her fingers

but tonight would be something different

u move as u continue to make out, placing urself on top this time

"Oh, does my pretty girl want to be in control?" Mizu teased, placing her hands atop your hips. Her eyes traced your body starting from your thighs. You feel her hands softly grab your waist, anticipating your next move.

You nodded in response, getting close to her face. You stare deeply into those ocean blue orbs of hers. God, you could get lost in them anytime.

"Please, let me be on top tonight." You proposed.

Mizu couldn't resist your pretty eyes staring at her, almost begging to try something new. She tilted her head in curiousity.

"Okay, baby." Her hands adjusted to your thighs, giving them a small squeeze. "So what are your plans tonight Y/N?"

"Mmm, nothing in particular." Your face inching closer to her face, your lips almost brushing with hers. "I just want to love my beautiful girlfriend."

You close the gap between you two while your right hand gently palms her boxers. Your fingers drag along the thin gray fabric, only to find a small damp spot by her entrance. Still busy deepening the kiss with your beloved, you circle the edges of the wet spot. A moan slips out of Mizu.

When it comes to Mizu and noises, she typically doesn't speak out too much. You would mainly hear her in praises and words. However, your main goal was to change that tonight.

You continued to bring attention the the spot, circling it deeper. Mizu could feel the pads of your fingers dragging the surroundings of her entrance. It didn't help that the boxer fabric dragged along her clit.

God, that fucking underwear. It was the only thing between her and true pleasure from you. If only you could rip it off right now, she thought.

Instead, she threw her head back as you continued, positioning yourself under her. You hear her take a deep breath.

Looking up, you spot Mizu watching your next actions. Her face was practically red yet her eyes glowed blue in anticipation of your next move.

If it wasn't for your mission, you would have torn the boxers off of her and gone to town. However, you decided otherwise. You wanted to hear those sweet moans of her tonight.

No. 'Wanted' wasn't the right word.

Needed.

You paused right in front of her boxers. You come back up, your face still close to her body. Your hand balances you as the other makes its way up her oversized shirt, finding her breasts and giving the left one a soft squeeze.

"Fuck, Y/N..." she moaned.

Not enough, I know she can say more.

Your index finger barely brushes against her right nipple. A small gasp escapes out of Mizu.

Bingo.

As your hand cups her boob, you feel it grows hard against the fabric only a few seconds after. You chuckle, rubbing her nipple in between your thumb and index finger. Another moan slips out, louder in volume.

You check on her visual reaction, only to find her frustrated. Yet her erratic breathing and flushed face proved otherwise. You come closer to her, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Does it feel good, my love?" you question. There was endearment behind that question, but Mizu could also hear the light teasing tone.

“God, Y/N, it feels so- ah-" she attempts to answer while your right hand now lightly tugging on her right nipple, still rubbing it between tugs. You feel her right hand pet the back of your head, running through your scalp.

"It feels so good, baby."

Her praises were all you needed to keep going.

You deepen the kiss and pull up her shirt impatiently to get a better view. At this point, fuck the fabric. You needed to hear her moan more. You start your journey back down, peppering her neck with kisses.

"Oh does it now?" You question, your voice vibrating against her neck.

"Fuck...", she quietly whines. "Yes, it does- ah-"

You had made your way down to her boobs, now planting kisses on her soft mounds. You lightly start to suck on the soft sides of her breasts, leaving a subtle mark for her to find later tomorrow morning.

"My love is so good." you tease, kissing it once again as your fingers pull on her right nipple again.

No coherent words came out of Mizu. Instead, only moans spilled out of your girlfriend. In response to the pleasure, you feel Mizu's hand against your scalp start to fist up, grabbing a chunk of your hair.

You groan from the light tug. Fuck, this was really hot. Mizu, the typical top, was a fumbling wet mess under your touch.

On the other hand, Mizu's mind was on its way to being fried from pleasure. Her pretty girl was treating her so well, pushing every button.

Well, almost every button. Except the ones covered by her boxers.

You dragged yourself down in between her legs again. The small damp spot from before had grown in size from earlier. A small grin formed as you ran your finger down the middle of the spot. Passing her clit, you feel her twitch under you. You heard a groan in response to the touch.

"Aw Mizu," you say teasingly as your hands gently held her thighs apart, allowing you more room to get closer. "Did you need some attention here?", you say as you ran the same finger down the same spot.

Another moan escapes.

You continued to palm her throbbing clit through the fabric. If the roles were reversed, you would have been begging Mizu for her fingers, the strap, or just anything in you. Circumstances have changed tonight so you wondered how Mizu would react to similar scenarios.

"Shit...", she cursed. "Baby."

Mizu pulled herself up by her elbows, looking down to see the view of u in between her legs. You continue to palm the spot with a bit more pressure. You could tell the fabric being the only barrier between ur fingers and her wet folds was pissing Mizu off.

"Fuck hell, Y/N..." she says.

You hum in response, planting a kiss on her spot. Mizu takes a deep breath in, her mind trying to clear up. Instead, it's filled with lust, almost impatient for your touch.

"Please, baby." she answers.

"Please, what?" You palmed her boxers to find her clit, practically sticking out and throbbing against the thin gray fabric. You circled around it, watching and hearing every moan come out of Mizu.

You watch her throw her head back, biting her lip. Her eyes were already half-lidded, drunk with receiving pleasure from her pretty girl.

"Please eat me out, pretty girl."

You kiss her inner thigh, smiling in delight. You pulled down her boxers to find her wet mess puffy and needy, wanting and waiting to be touched by you.

She takes a peek at your reaction, hoping to watch the scene. She could finally unravel her and feel the pleasure that you had been teasing her with.

Face to face with her entrance, you could feel the heat off of it radiate. You give it a slow lick, finally tasting your mission's reward. Mizu groans, now louder for you to hear.

You feel more liquid gush out, lubricating your tongue with her honey.

"Mmm, s'good for me.", you compliment as your tongue enters slowly. You feel her walls tighten with the sudden entrance.

"Oh god, fuck." Mizu curses, her eyes closed shut. Her mind fully lets herself go, vulnerable under ur touch and waiting for your work to pleasure her even more. You continue to enter your tongue inside her, hoping to hear the volume of her moans increase.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly

Hi Everyone, this is my first fan fiction. I love Joel Miller and Pedro and I just wanted to write something about him/them. I was inspired by the many many many fantastic fics I've read and all their writers. You all are amazing. I don't know what I'm doing so, if I do something wrong, please let me know and I'll adjust. Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: violence, cursing, gore, blood. (There Will Be Smut, eventually) Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. I will give her some physical descriptions because she is me for this one but I've taken to writing her and You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking, a little annoying. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: Joel saves your life and takes you back to Jackson.

Chapter 1: Him.

It all happens so fast. You step on that fallen fucking branch and it snaps. It feels so loud in the eerie quiet of the forest, like an explosion. Your heart almost burst in your chest, and the clicker you were hiding from, praying would pass you by, turns on the stumps left of its heels and comes towards you. Its limbs flailing, but at a speed that seems impossible. Next, you’re on the ground, pushing the things’ rotting neck and shoulders as hard as you can to keep its snapping jaws from your face, when suddenly, with the sound of a shot, the head splinters, and bloody debris falls onto the skin of your face as the clicker’s strength weakens and its weight falls against you.

Your brain can’t catch up with what is happening as the corpse is lifted off you and the sound of a man’s voice starts to come through as if you’re hearing it under water. “ANSWER ME!” You finally make out the words, “WERE YOU BIT?” You find your voice, shaky but still strong, matching the man’s intensity, “I DON’T KNOW.” You hear him sigh, almost as if he’s irritated rather than fearful. You still can’t see him clearly, the viscera of brain matter from the clicker being shot above you still blurring your vision, along with the loss of your black framed glasses that helped you see, even if the prescription wasn’t exactly right. Damnit, where are they now? You wipe your face as best you can and move your mass of black hair streaked with gray out of the way as the man, who you can now see is large, broad shouldered, only being able to make out his shape without your glasses. He grabs at your collar and moves your head from side to side to check your face and neck, and then pulls you up to a standing position. You’re weak on your legs after the, let’s face it, near fucking death experience you just had, and reach out to the man, grabbing his hand for balance, after you seem steady and not a second before, he pulls his hand back and squeezes his fist like you burned him. Okay, man, just trying not to fall over again.

“Roll up your sleeves and show me your hands and arms, both sides. NOW!” You do just that. His brow furrows at the site of the tattoos covering your arms, like he’s wondering how you got them all, and trying to figure out if it was before the world ended, or after. How old you would have been, and if you could have gotten them all before. You can see the gears turning, then it seems he finally deems you unbitten and therefore not an immediate threat, but certainly not safe. “What are you doing out here alone, where are your people?” He says while looking around him, checking his six or whatever the fuck, you wonder if he was in the military or something, he seems like a soldier but also like maybe the Jason Borne kind. You never got to see the sequel they announced before it all happened, sequels usually sucked anyway. God, you miss movies.

“What is wrong with you, kid, you got brain damage? Answer my questions,” the man says, still more irritated with you than anything else. Kid? You’re fucking 40. Whatever. “Um, no brain damage that I know of, but I have a theory that I had an undiagnosed concussion as a teenager, um, but I’m out here trying to not get eaten by clickers, or raiders, or murdered, or worse and trying not to starve. Also, no people. I have no people.” You ramble quickly and the man sighs, AGAIN. You look down and see a rough black outline in the grass below and- “Oh, thank fuck.”

You reach down, clean them off on the part of your black long sleeved shirt that doesn’t have blood or clicker gunk on it and put them on with a long sigh of relief, “Do you know how hard it was to find glasses that actually helped me see and hold onto them and not break them in this shit show of an existence…” another sigh of relief as you open your eyes to finally look at the man who saved your life and already seems like he wants to take it back from you and Holy shit. He’s hot, there’s no other way to put it. He’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen on planet earth, and you’ve just ran your goddamn smart mouth like a fucking moron this entire time. Without the decency to be quiet and nervous in front of, again, THE HOTTEST PERSON YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. You choke on your own thoughts and wide-eyed look into his eyes, they’re chocolate brown and filled with life and emotion, he’s gruff and scary but his eyes…god, they betray him. His hair is just below his ears, curled and brown with slices of gray throughout. His face is worn, scarred, like he’s been through shit, you know because you have too. His nose is like a roman god’s, aquiline and fucking beautiful. He’s got a patchy beard the same two colors as his curly hair and his lips are full and pouty with a mustache and you wonder how it would scratch if he put his mouth on your neck. Wait, what the fuck. I mean he’s hot but instantly thinking of him kissing your neck… relax bitch.

He clears his throat, looking at you like you have two heads and sighs. He really likes to sigh. Then he finally speaks in a stern but soft voice, “Okay, look, don’t know why, but I believe you when you say you’re alone, your eyes look like you haven’t eaten in a few days, that true?” You nod and he seems relieved that you don’t start speaking again, so you stick with it and stay silent. His southern drawl continues, “I come from a community. If you want, I’ll take ya there. Food, shelter, medical. You gotta contribute and you gotta behave. Might want to watch that smart mouth of yours until people start trustin’ you, or maybe forever.” You look at him, tears threatening to fall, turning away to shield him or yourself, you’re not sure. Food. Shelter. Medical. My god how is this possible. He takes this time to look away from you and retrieve jerky from his pack which he holds out for you, and you take it. “Thank you...” you say in the quietest voice you think you’ve ever used realizing you don’t know his name. “Joel, name’s Joel Miller.” He nods and points his head in the direction he wants you to walk. Looking at your hair he says, “C’mon Ash,” and he follows just behind you. What you don’t see is the uptick of his lip on one side that reveals a dimple you’ve yet to witness on his beautiful face and his eyes linger on you for far too long when he should be watching your surroundings. That’s what you don’t see.

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 6

Read Ding here | ~6.3k words

Warnings: some smut 18+ only, oral, fingering, cockwarming if you squint; angst, car accident, trauma dumping, sucky parental figure. Please read with caution. You might also see one of my cliffhangers.

From me: I feel like the beginning is messy to read--almost like it's out of nowhere? But it's pretty intentional, tbh. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Hope you like it 💕

Summary: Cupcake and Harry are busy. Harry has his big fight. Cupcake was right about throwing her life out of balance by adding in a boyfriend. They miss each other. They don't know how to deal with that either. At least not while they're apart.

It was not Harry’s fault. Even though he thought it was.

But to be fair, it wasn’t her fault either. Even if she felt it was.

Harry grew into adulthood knowing he was stubborn. Everyone in his life told him so. It was obvious. He didn’t get to be an undefeated champion without grit. His entire gym was named as a near synonym of the word. But she continued to surprise him, and it was clear that he had very much met his match—she was competing for his crown of stubbornness. If Harry wasn’t so mad about his current state, he might even acknowledge that she was winning.

At first everything was new and completely fine. He was enamored with her. Finally she was all his. He took her on a real date—several real, authentic dates. He danced around with her in the bakery kitchen. Brought her food for movie nights in her apartment. (He also licked her when the movie lost his attention, and she looked too good to be sitting there without his head between her legs.) He even brought her bouquets of flowers simply because it was Monday.

She stayed at his place, wrapped close to him. It was as if they had done it for years. When he woke up early for a run, she joined him, assuring him to go ahead and circle back for her since he ran way better and faster than she did. But he enjoyed the way she massaged his muscles in the shower most. (The way she wrapped her hand around his dick most of all.) She made him breakfast before they left for work and Harry thought if the bakery wasn’t to her liking she could open a breakfast place as a second choice.

She chatted with Sarah while he worked out and trained. Without any kind of asking, she helped clean equipment when he needed to focus more on training. She organized his desk in his office because it was a disaster and it stressed her out. Whenever she cleaned, she hummed and didn’t notice. It made Harry fall deeper in love with her. Every moment he was with her was magical.

Until she was exhausted.

He missed her. For the first time in his life, he had felt completely in love with someone. The way he wanted to be in love. He finally had that. They were inseparable. Nights spent cocooned under Harry’s covers. His finger tracing her features in the dark. “So pretty,” he murmured.

“You can’t even see me,” she whispered.

“S’how I know you’re so pretty. Can feel it.”

So not having that for two weeks was like trying to swim through cement.

She had what could only be called a complete meltdown. Frosting and cupcakes everywhere. She was overwhelmed—said yes to too many functions in a row and spread herself too thin. She was frustrated with Harry and his time training and just missed him.

But she didn’t say it.

Because Harry was frustrated too. He tried to help her, but she didn’t let him in. There was the whole not knowing her family—even though she had effectively wormed her way into Mum and Gemma’s heart. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest; honestly, he thought his niece liked her more than Harry and she had only met her twice.

So, when she exploded, for lack of a better word, it was magnificent. It was nothing he had ever seen before. The exhaustion in her eyes, the worry on her face, the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Harry was sick with worry and frustration just to hear her cry but was nearly impressed. The cupcakes overturned on the floor were nothing in comparison to the way she cried.

“Cupcake, you are overreact—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” she hissed at him. That was entirely on him. Gem had taught him better than to tell a woman she was overreacting.

“Lemme take something off your plate, kitten,” he tried instead. He was ignoring her frustrated tears even though he wanted to brush them away. “Tell me what’s going on,” he figured it had something to do with her dad because she kept checking her phone and she hadn’t mentioned going to see him in over a week. But her car was overdue for an oil change, and she didn’t want to drive it that far but hadn’t a moment to deal with it. She also complained about something regarding her eyebrows, but Harry didn’t fully understand it because quite honestly, he had never thought about her eyebrows.

But if it meant caring for herself, he wished he pushed further.

Their schedules hadn’t lined up in two weeks. No more than an hour or two alone. She saw him plenty while she chatted with Sarah at the gym while he trained or worked. He and Maeve had started a competition of who could sprinkle the most cupcakes in fifteen minutes (Harry was willing to admit defeat once in his life—he would never beat Maeve) even though she didn’t like that they were having fun when she was stressed.

They hadn’t practiced her self-defense moves in nearly a month.

So, it felt like her fault.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was Harry’s sour attitude reflecting right back at her. Harry didn’t take her frustration lying down. He snapped back at her which felt so heinous to do but he was grumpy.

But he was tired of arguing with her. Tired of feeling frustrated, begging her to let him in when it was obvious she didn’t want to. So, for the first time in his life, he stopped fighting.

It pained him to no end. He could see in her eyes that she was exhausted. It hurt him so badly. Each time he said, “Whatever, Cupcake,” he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not taking her frustration away. But she wouldn’t let him in. She wouldn’t let him take away her frustration. It was like she wanted to argue with him. It was entirely unfair, but she was mad about his indifference. It didn’t make any sense for her to be mad when she had just as much blame to take for his sour mood.

“Why don’t you just go home?” She suggested. Bitterness coated every word.

“Yeah?” Harry looked up at her from his phone, his eyes narrowed. She could see his muscles tense like they were in the ring, and she was aiming for his head. “Jus’ leave?” He repeated.

“Obviously you don’t want to be here,” she muttered.

He slid back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made her teeth hurt. “No, cupcake,” he shook his head and made his way for the door. She hated itwhen he said the sweet name like that. She knew it wasn’t her nickname when he said it. It wasn’t filled with the love he liked. It was sarcastic. Mean. It hurt her more than an actual punch would have, she was sure. “You don’t want me here,” his voice was low. She closed her eyes, trying to keep as calm as possible. It was hard because she was anything but calm. But she said nothing. “You don’t want me in your life,” he snapped finally letting all the emotion out that had been building over the last week. “You keep things from me. You build up walls that I can’t break down. Every time I get to the top y’add another layer of bricks.”

She stayed silent.

“Go on, cupcake. Say m’wrong,” he challenged. “Say y’let me in.”

But both knew she couldn’t say it.

It was eerily quiet in the kitchen. The pinch of Harry’s brow made her sad. She wanted to smooth it out with a kiss. “Tell me to stay,” he whispered quietly.

But she couldn’t say that either.

“Yeah,” he sighed and turned. “S’what I thought.”

*

Maeve wondered if her best friend was going to have a heart attack a lot during her time at A Pinch of Sprinkles. The opening in town nearly sent her to the ER. She was running on fumes at the time. Christmas always made her anxious. Anytime they were chosen for a wedding also had Maeve worrying about her medical history. But in comparison, those were nothing. If Maeve had known what not talking to Harry would do to her, she would have told her that Christmas was a tropical vacation.

Harry stopped coming to see her.

“Did...” she swallowed, nervous to infuriate her best friend further but out of care for her, she had to know. “Is... Harry still...”

She glared at the cupcakes she was frosting, squeezing the icing bag a little too tightly. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. She hadn’t gotten a text from him nor seen him in a week after she told him to leave.

Maeve’s heart cracked. “Babe,” Maeve murmured softly.  “He... he adores you... what happened?”

She shook her head unwilling to go over it again. The nights were filled with tear-soaked pillowcases, and she was exhausted from stress and crying. “I just can’t be in a relationship. It’s too much.”

Of course.

Maeve was sick of her best friend’s loneliness. “That is bullshit,” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you push him away?”

“Maeve, shut the fuck—”

“Oh, good luck pushing me away, babe. No,” she shook her head and grabbed the bag of frosting from her hands and threw it at the sink to gain her attention.

“I was wor—”

Maeve ignored her words and continued on with her own. “I might not be a boxer, but I can take a punch or two all the same. You pushed him away. Now you’re sulking. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. Harry did nothing but love you and try to help you and you wouldn’t let him—”

“I am going to fire you,” she muttered bitterly. Harry never said he loved her anyway. How could he love her after all that? How could he love her if he didn’t even know the truth?

Maeve continued anyway, immune to her threat because she knew that wasn’t true at all. “You deserve to be happy, and Harry made you happy. That scares you,” she finished.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she ground her teeth together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Maeve was her best friend and knew more about her and her family than anyone. “I don’t get happy things.”

“But you do. You have me, number one,” she snorted, fortunately. The tension eased just the slightest bit. “You have this bakery. And more importantly, you have a guy that is so crazy about you, he has been calling me every night to make sure you’re home safe and sound.” Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know that.

“Every time I love someone, they go away,” she whispered.

Maeve felt nothing but sympathy for her sweet friend. “You have to give Harry a chance. You have to tell him why you’re doing this. I have a good feeling about him,” Maeve reminded her. For the first time in a week, she felt her body untense.

“He calls you?” She asked.

“Every night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

Maeve nodded. “Really nice,” she agreed. “Plus, he’s like super hot. Did you even sleep with him yet?” She blushed at her words and reached for a new frosting bag out of the fridge. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me?!” Maeve screeched. She smacked her arm repeatedly. “Tell me everything! When did you do it? Where did you do it? Harry must have a massive dick, right? I feel like he’s—”

“Maeve,” she laughed. The first time in a week. It felt good to laugh. “I...”

“No, you have to spill. Something.”

Her cheeks were flaming. “I think I’m addicted to it,” she whispered.

“Thank. God.”

*

Harry refused to go back to the bakery for the rest of the week uninvited. His workout sessions were horrific. Louis yelled at him for missing his marks and he felt everything about his footwork was sloppy. The way she ignored him made him feel terrible. But naturally, he didn’t help either. He hadn’t texted her in over a week.

But it didn’t stop Harry from waking up to a call at eleven thirty at night.

“What?” He grumbled. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of arguing with her and was tired of being frustrated. She would have to do the work if she was going to try and fix this when he needed sleep.

The sound of her shaky breath snapped his eyes open. “Can you come get me?” She croaked.

That did him in within seconds. The vulnerability in her voice. “Cupcake, s’matter?” He was awake instantly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was her name. The one he used that made her feel adored. It was sweet and made her feel better almost as if he was already at the bakery. He quickly slid into trainers that he didn’t even untie; the back of the heel was smushed down and uncomfortable against his foot, but it didn’t matter. Her sniffling made him insane with worry. It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. “Kitten, talk to me,” he ordered. His heart racing and his fear taking over. He wasn’t sure he locked his door, and he was lucky he even remembered to grab his car keys before he descended the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m alright,” she promised, tears filling most of her voice.

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Cupcake, I swear t’God,” he threw his car into drive before it was fully turned on.

“I just miss you. I’m sad and scared. Okay? I’m physically fine, but I’m a mess. I want you here,” her voice wobbled, and Harry felt like he was breaking. “Please,” she sniffled.

Harry felt crushing relief and he watched the needle on Clay’s speedometer lower from a felony charge to a healthy speeding ticket.  “M’five minutes away, kitten. Stay put.”

“Okay,” her voice was quiet, sad but Harry didn’t mind.

“You’re okay?” He repeated. She nodded. He couldn’t see that though. “Cupcake?”

“I’m okay,” she promised, it was punctuated by a sniffle.

His heart felt so broken feeling the anguish in her voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to the phone. “I wasn’t nice,” he mumbled.

“It’s hard,” she whispered. The remainder of his drive was silent. Just her sniffles and the hum of his tires on the road to accompany the small miles between them. Harry sprinted to her bakery door. She was there pacing the front and unlocked it as he approached. Harry dropped his phone right inside the entryway, the bell signaling his arrival, finally.

Within one second of crossing the threshold, she was in his arms. The door only clicked shut once he was around her. His face buried in her hair, his arms tightening around her like he was trying to keep her afloat in the middle of the ocean. “M’here,” he hummed. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart finally slowing after so much anxiety had plagued her over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he assured her. “S’okay.”

“It’s so hard,” she repeated, herself from the phone call. Harry wished they were home. Even though it was late and private Harry wanted the comfort of her bed or his sofa to let her fall apart. The bakery was warm, but he wanted pillows for her head and blankets for her body to comfort her while she whispered secrets to him.

“I know, kitten. I know s’hard. But I... I adore you, Cupcake. Don’t y’know that? What do y’think all this is between us? I want t’meet your dad. He’s obviously a huge part of your life... and keeping secrets from me? S’not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“You know everything ‘bout me. S’like I don’t get t’know anything ‘bout you. Do y’think I’m suddenly not going to like you? I assure you that’s never going t’happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”

“What could you possibly have done? You’re made of sugar, Cupcake. You have to let me in. I told you everything. You know my family. You know my friends. You know why I bought Driven and why I have been fighting since I was ten years old. You have kept me out of everything. I don’t even know why you opened A Pinch of Sprinkles. I know you have a dad. You never talk about your mom. I don’t know about your childhood best friend or your favorite pet. There are these walls you keep up and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to break them down.”

“You don’t eat cupcakes when you’re sad,” her jaw shakes as she pulls from him. The space between them feels worse than the last few weeks without her combined. It’s cold and lonely. More so than not speaking to her. More so than not sleeping beside her. His heart hurt instantly. But not as much as it hurt to watch her lower lip move almost independently of the rest of her face.

“Cupcake, what does that have t’do—”

But before he could finish his thought Harry could see it did have to do with what he just asked about. The way her eyes were shining with tears. It felt like someone clipped his vocal cords. All words escaped him, and he just stared at her as she continued. “You eat them at baby showers, weddings, and at birthday parties,” she listed. Harry stayed quiet. “You don’t eat them when your mom leaves when you’re six years old because it’s too much to be a mom,” her voice was so broken as she spoke. Harry felt her pain in the air. Like needles stabbing every inch of his exposed skin. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn’t want her. To willingly choose to leave her. Her mum no less. She was looking at her hands like they were going to give her the answer to a test she forgot to study for. “You don’t eat them at funerals or when you break your arm,” she continued. Harry wondered who had died and which arm she had broken and how. “You eat them when you get a good grade on your math test or on an anniversary.” Harry’s heart was breaking. He always wondered about the things she kept hidden in her personal life and she laid it out right there for him. In the one place that she probably loved more than anywhere else on earth. “You don’t eat them when you’re sick or sad. They’re for when you’re happy. You can’t be sad while eating sprinkles.”

It clicked effortlessly. Obviously. “A pinch of sprinkles,” he murmured softly. He crossed the space that separated them. Immediately, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, they felt cool compared to the warmth that emanated from her skin. Hot, frustrated tears started to spill over. He swiped at them with his thumbs below her eyes in tandem. He caught as many as he could but there was an overwhelming number of teardrops. It was impossible for him to keep them all from falling in rivers down her face.

She nodded. Her tears continued to spill over, rolling down her cheeks and sliding down his thumbs as he tried to stop them. “A pinch of sprinkles,” she repeated softly. She inhaled sharply. Turning against his hands holding her in place. A new wave of anguish crossed her face that Harry didn’t know could exist on someone’s face—especially not her perfect features. All the art museums he went to in university for his art history requirement made sense. The distortion of features on someone so beautiful was right before him. He understood. “You don’t eat cupcakes when your dad is in a car accident and becomes paralyzed from the neck down because you were too tired to drive even though you were the one that wanted to go to the drive-in and the only thing you can do is bring him to an entirely new town with a place to help him the way he deserves because it’s never going to be enough to thank him or repay him or—” the words were cut off by sobs that she could no longer control. Her heart was breaking right in front of him.

Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to stand with poise and grace that no one would expect a boxer to have. He knew how to throw punches that could knock a grown man out in one hit. The correct form to kick was ingrained in his mind from when he was ten years old.

Harry didn’t know how to begin to fight her sadness.

“Cupcake,” he whispered. She covered her mouth and the noise that came out of her body was so sad, so broken. Harry wondered how she could still be standing. Harry always thought he was pretty tough. That stubborn nature of his thought he was one of the toughest people in a room.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

The pretty, sweet girl who was constantly covered in sugar and frosting—she was the strongest person he knew.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she went through—how she still coped with it. It was a miracle she got in a car ever again. She was braver than he ever was or could be. “And he doesn’t hate me,” she whispered through her sobs. “My mom left him because of me. He is in a wheelchair and unable to live a normal life because of me.”

“Kitten,” he warned worried she would work herself up too much beyond his ability to help her. Harry was an idiot for making her feel this. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. If he only knew...

“Why doesn’t he just hate me?” She whimpered and Harry finally pulled her into his embrace. Her tears immediately soaked his shirt. She got snot all over him and Harry just kept her close to him he let her cry for longer than he ever wanted her to, but it felt good to hold her again. Regardless of the pain.

“How could anyone hate you, Cupcake?" he asked after a minute.

“I hate me,” she whispered. The question was rhetorical, but she responded anyway.

He kissed the top of her head. “If I had a kid like you... S’not anything I wouldn’t do for them. Your dad doesn’t regret that.”

“Of course he does,” she sniffled. “I couldn’t even take care of him.”

“It wasn’t your job, Cupcake.”

“But it was my faul—”

“Take me t’meet him,” he interrupted.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Take me to meet him. Y’go every week, yeah? Take me,” he asked. She felt so vulnerable. Her heart felt heavy.

“Meet him?” She whispered. Harry didn’t even comment that she repeated him again.

He nodded. “He saved your life for me, Cupcake. M’sure of it. S’least I could do t’meet him.”

Her heart felt something dangerously close to hope enveloping it. It was too good to be true. Her dream job, a cute apartment, a best friend, and the perfect guy. “You don’t hate me?”

He scoffed and buried his face in her neck. He missed her smell—vanilla and sugar (although he wasn’t sure that was truly her natural scent but merely from spending so much time in the kitchen). He missed her voice and the warmth he felt just holding her in his arms. “Christ, Kitten. Course not.”

“But I was so... awful. And I... I ruined his life. I'm cursed or something. I'll... I'll ruin your life too.”

"Sweetheart," he cooed. "Y'don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm not a good luck charm, Harry."

"You are, Cupcake. You are the luckiest thing s'ever happened to me."

She looked at him miserably. "I've done nothing but made your life confusing and hell."

He pulled back a little so he could get a clearer look at her face. He smiled. The first genuine smile he felt in a week. “I can take a punch every now and again,” he promised. “Think Louis would say I could be knocked down a peg or two every once in a while,” he winked.

It wasn’t fixed. But she looked slightly less broken. She felt a little more whole. Harry’s smile did wonders for her.

*

The next day, Harry stood in the hall outside of the dining room. Other residents were in various activities, but her dad sat in his chair, slumped slightly, and he smiled at her entrance.

“Dad,” she said softly sitting across from him.

“Busy week you had it seems,” he smiled.

She blushed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called. It was one thing after another—it’s no excuse I should have been here, and I was—”

“Honey,” he shook his head slightly, one of the few movements he retained from the crash. “You’re living a life. It’s okay.”

Her heart broke to see him in his chair. Unable to live the same kind of life.

“I... brought... something.”

“Something or someone?”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t see a cupcake box, so this must trouble,” he joked, smiling brightly.

“Harry is here. He wanted to meet you,” she explained.

“He wanted to? What about you?” He asked. She looked at him nervously. Her eyes said everything she didn’t say out loud. Her dad continued to smile. “Well, it’s about time, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him over. Harry hurried, stepping right beside his wheelchair. Without hesitating, he grabbed her dad’s limp hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said shaking it firmly with both hands. When the handshake was through, Harry ever so gently placed his hand back on the arm rest of his chair.

Her dad smirked and winked at the sweet girl. “I’d offer you my seat, Harry, but I’m afraid I’m stuck in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she covered her hand over her eyes.

Harry chuckled, taking the seat on the side of the table between them. “No problem, sir,” he assured him, taking the joke in stride. Adoration for them both squeezed around her heart. “Cupcake, do y’mind getting us some water?” She blinked in surprise. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger.

“Oh... um... sure,” she said and hurried off to find a nurse to help.

“Cupcake?” Her dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. She’s quite sweet like one,” he smiled gently. Her dad stared Harry down for a moment. Not maliciously. Just watching. Waiting. If they were in the ring, they would have been eyeing one another waiting for someone to make a move.

Her dad made the first one. “She said you wanted to meet me.”

Harry nodded. “I adore your daughter. With everything in me. M’going t’protect her every moment of every day. I wanted you t’hear that from me. I wanted you t’know that.”

“She can be a little feisty sometimes,” he warned, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“M’aware,” he didn’t want to tell him about their stalemate over the last few weeks. That didn’t matter anymore and it wouldn't paint either of them in a good light.

“She said you have a big match coming up.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Biggest one of m’career.”

“Think you’ll win?” He asked.

Harry was confident. But he didn’t like to let his confidence overinflate his chances or make himself sound presumptuous. Anything could happen. But he was going to try his hardest and best. That would be good enough for him. “I believe so. I’ve worked hard for this. I want it more than most anything,” he promised.

“Most?” Just like his daughter, he caught the key word.

“Most,” he repeated. There was a significant pause as Harry considered his next thoughts. The words he didn’t want to explain but what he wanted her dad to know anyway. “Did she tell you about Jack?” Harry asked quietly.

The name didn’t ring a bell. He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t always tell me everything.”

Harry smiled sadly. “At least she’s consistent,” he murmured. “My manager Louis and I teach self-defense classes... she joined one several months ago,” he let another pause tell her dad the words he didn’t want to say. The story he probably shouldn’t be telling him in the first place. “M’confident she could protect herself. But m’hoping she won’t ever have to. M’going t’keep her safe,” he assured him. “I promise.”

He could only imagine the wave of emotions that took over his brain. Harry obviously wasn’t a father, but he didn’t need to be one to know he would murder someone for his daughter. Paralysis or not. “And you?” He asked quietly. Digesting the bit of information Harry alluded to.

“Me?” Harry repeated.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“Never,” he assured him. “I’d... I’d take a bullet for her,” he promised.

“Speaking from experience, that might hurt her more than just letting her take the bullet,” he chuckled and winked. Harry snorted but nodded.

“Understood.”

She returned with three glasses of water and an extra long straw for her father. “You guys sharing war stories about me?”

“I was jus’ ‘bout t’tell him how you’re trying t’fatten me up with raspberry lemon filling,” Harry stood and held her chair out for her to sit.

“You are more than capable of saying no to cupcakes, Harry.”

“I beg to differ, honey. It’s a sin to say no to them,” her dad smiled. “A sin to say no to you,” he winked again.

*

Their reunion in Harry’s home was carnal to say the least. Harry missed being inside her. He wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped around his dick. Harry had spent many years of his teens taking care of his own sexual needs and yet somehow the weeks apart from her were worse than all those years combined.

Perhaps it was the noises she made. Begging Harry for a release. Her body craved his. It felt like a part of her had been missing for the duration of their silly stalemate. It may have only been a few weeks, but it was a few weeks without orgasms made possible by Harry’s mouth, fingers, and dick.

“I wanna stay inside you the rest of m’life,” he moaned into her ear in the middle of the night. They would both be tired in the morning. Louis would probably hate her (even though Harry assured her that was impossible) but it was worth it.

*

They started going over her self-defense moves again in between dinner and TV shows. Harry was encouraging. Making sure she followed the right move and not her instinct. Correcting her form and making sure she knew he would always be there for her. She told him more secrets that made Harry feel so whole.

She watched him train. Harry walked her to her car after falling asleep on the table in the bakery kitchen. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Harry met her dad. They fell asleep watching a movie or show nearly every night. Harry would simply lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. She would coax him out of his slumber and snuggle up to him as they made it to a more comfortable position in bed.

That was the case one week prior to Harry’s big fight.

He had fallen asleep in her lap (after he had lazily brought her to orgasm with nothing more than stroking his finger messily around her clit. Simply because he could and thought her sleep shorts looked lonely without his hand inside them). Now he had an arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled against her T-shirt. “I love you, Cupcake,” he mumbled sleepily. She ignored it. Thought that maybe he was asleep because surely someone so big and strong—someone so scary yet boyish—couldn’t love her after all she put him through. No matter how good her mouth was on his dick. “Hear me, kitten?” He asked rolling to look up at her.

She smiled, blushing. “I heard you, thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I love you in m’sleep, too,” he turned again, rubbing his nose against her shirt. She giggled, rubbing her fingers through his hair and massaging scalp. She was so enamored and so surprised she felt speechless. “So you’re supposed t’say it back,” he turned and looked up at her. “Unless...y’don’t feel the same way...or I said it too soon or something and it’s—”

“Oh no way,” she assured him. “I love you very much,” she laughed and brought her face down to his and kissed him.

*

The morning of his fight, they woke up early. Harry headed into the shower, and she followed right behind him. With a sleepy smile he enjoyed the feel of her mouth on him as he always did, gripping her hair in his hands while he thought about how a $100,000 would change his life and allow him to spoil her.

But after a healthy breakfast (and another blowjob from beneath the table while he ate because she simply thought he deserved a relaxed morning) there was no use denying it.

Harry was grumpy.

By the time they got to Driven, he snapped at her a few times (more than a few times) and she took it like a champ. In fact, she was planning on ignoring it entirely. It wasn’t his fault. Stress was natural on a day like today. His warmup wasn’t supposed to be heavy the day of a massive fight like this even though he tested Louis’ patience to no end.

“Again,” he snarled at Louis. Louis looked at her for support.

“Baby, you need—”

“I said, again. I know what m’doing,” he growled ignoring her.

Louis let him have one more round of practice. But it was Louis’ comments on his attitude that he found her around lunch time in his office setting up a light lunch from one of his favorite restaurants nearby. Tail between his legs. “M’sorry I snapped, kitten. S’jus’ the nerves.”

She smiled. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“S’not okay, though.”

She shook her head grinning at him. “I’ll yet at you later when you eat the frosting off my cupcakes.”

He nodded. “M’gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

“I know it’s silly to say. But don’t be nervous. You’re going to win, I can feel it,” she assured him and draped herself in his lap while he ate his carrot sticks.

“Course. M’good luck charm will be there,” he brushed his finger on her cheek.

“You know, I hate when you get hit. It's been my least favorite part of this whole experience.”

He shrugged. “So, I won’t get hit,” he smiled knowingly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of a good luck charm when you were already undefeated when I met you,” she reminded him.

He felt everything soften in him. The tenseness, the anger, and the frustration all disappeared. “Oh, kitten,” he shook his head. “You have been m’good luck charm for so much more than boxing matches.”

*

Louis was ready to explode with anger. Part of her wondered if he had ever followed through on his threats of getting in the ring to throw punches at Harry. She thought it might be cathartic for him. Before she can blink, the introductions are over. The sound of the bell chimes through the arena room.

Ding

Round one was over and she was holding her breath so she seriously considered the idea that she had blacked out and missed it. But Niall had murmured to her that he didn’t get hit once and she felt so proud, so excited. The kind of money Harry was going to win would do incredible things for his life. Maybe in addition to holding her breath, she had squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Niall.

His opponent was big, strong. He wasn't facing Harry because he wasn't good. It terrified to think the kind of damage an opponent like him could do to him.

“Looks like he forgot extra towels,” Niall murmured to her bringing her back to reality. She could see the irritation in Louis’ eyes and Harry holding his hands up with the gloves. How did y’expect me t’grab them? She could imagine him grumbling back only further irritating Harry. There was enough for the time being but she knew they would go through a stack of them in no time at all.

“I’ll get them,” she offered standing waving at him in some silent sign language neither discussed but Louis knew what it meant. He looked the slightest bit more relaxed by her standing. Part of her thought for the first time in their relationship he didn’t hate her. Even though Harry assured her repeatedly that he didn't. (He was utterly kind to her throughout the self-defense classes and when Harry reminded her of such, she alluded to the fact that she paid for that kindness.)

“Cupcake, you’re the best,” Niall squeezed the back of her arm as he stayed put. “Want me to come with you?” He asked.

“No, I got it,” she smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom and hit the concession stand too. So, if I’m not back at the end of the next round I didn’t fall in the laundry basket,” she promised. Niall chuckled and waved her off.

After going to the bathroom and making her way back to the locker room, flashing her badge around her neck, she found the extra towels laid out. The noise was deafening—even from inside the locker room. She grabbed an armful's worth and made her way toward the entrance to the arena.

When she turned around, the last person she ever thought she’d see was waiting just inside the door. The volume behind him hadn’t changed. But she swore in that moment, the crowd, the bell, the thudding of her heart, everything got louder.

She knew he was trying to intimidate her just by standing there. There wasn’t a single person around. Everyone was in that arena. Her legs felt like lead, but she walked forward anyway. The towels in her arms provided extra space between them as she started to walk right past him. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. She repeated to herself.

“Round two is about to begin!” She heard announced from behind the door followed by a delighted cheer.

It was nothing.

Jack was just trying to scare her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

All she needed to do was walk by him confidently. Then she would watch Harry win life-changing money. She was home free. Leaning into the door, the metal bar squeaking as it released the hold on the frame to let her through to the main room.

But at the last second, the towels fell from her arm in a heap as he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. “I don’t think so.”

Round two was starting.

Ding.

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[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part II

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: panic attacks (reader is tormented soul🤷)

I'll just drop it here.

Also I felt really bad for saying no to so many nice persons (I really admire the inner power of people who can do that so easily and without regrets), so there's going to be a taglist 🫥

Lovely divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part I | Part III

You were sitting at the table, eyes downcast, cheeks slightly pink. Everyone around you was celebrating your wedding, but you hardly paid attention to it. Your thoughts were swirling around the warm hand on your lap, holding yours so firmly it almost hurt, thumb drawing small circles on your skin. What could it mean? You'd never seen this kind of behaviour in Hewn city. Public, lewd touches maybe, but secret, intimate ones? Was it a good sign? Or bad one?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when his hand suddenly withdrew. You didn't dare to look at him though. In a second, air little bit cooled down and a silky night-kissed voice with a pinch of arrogance spoke from your left.

"Nice party, Eris."

You immediately recognized High Lord of Night. Feeling the urge to stand up and bow as you would do in Hewn city, you pushed against the chair, but it didn't move even an inch. Eris' hand was now on an armrest of your chair, holding it at place.

"What did you expect? It's my wedding day. I hoped to please my wife," he said, his voice dangerously low, balancing between politeness and sharpness of displeasure.

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered with bowed head. The pressure of powers of these two males was almost unbearable, suffocating you.

"Hmm," it seemed that High Lord of Night smirked. "I hoped that I could have a word with your wife, if it isn't too much to ask for."

"Whatever you want to tell her, you can do so here and now," Eris retorted, cold rage seeping from every word.

"C'mon," Rhysand laughed amusedly. "It only takes a minute and you'll have her back. I won't hurt her, you have my word."

Eris inhaled sharply, considering it. Then he just waved his hand and went back to watching the dancers.

"Here, let me help you," High Lord of Night offered you his arm, helping you to stand up. Then he silently led you to the ceiling-to-floor windows and out on the terrace. He let go of your hand and leaning against the railing looked up at the night sky.

"Stars are so different here, aren't they," he sighed softly.

You quickly took a look at twinkling lights that illuminated the terrace with a cool glow. It was the first time you'd ever seen the night sky and you'd like to keep watching that mesmerising beauty for the rest of your life, but.. your gaze sank down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I'm afraid that I have nothing to compare it with."

You could feel his piercing gaze to move to you then and you shivered under its weight.

"Please, call me Rhysand," his voice was kind, nothing like the cold, merciless one he used to address crowd in your hometown.

You swallowed hard. "My lord, I couldn't-"

He softly interrupted you. "If it makes you feel better, you can call me by my name only when we are alone. Like now."

Who you were to oppose the High Lord. "As you wish, my l-.. Rhysand," you curtsied.

"Ah, and no bowing, dear. I don't need such formalities. After all you aren't my subject anymore. We're equal. That's why I want you to treat me like that. What's your name?"

You again swallowed, dread eating up on you. Equal to High Lords. What a crazy thing to think. You could never be more than a servant, a submissive mute wife who would speak up only with husband's approval.

"My name is Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated, tasting it. "Lovely name. How old are you, Y/N?"

"I-I'm 19."

He was silent for a moment. Feeling uncomfortable with his eyes trained on you, you shifted weight slightly, your gaze still focused on the pattern of tiles at his feet.

"Tell me, my dear, how do you feel about this? About the marriage?"

"I-" You started to sweat. What should you say? What did he want to hear?

"Don't be scared. You can be honest with me. I won't hurt you no matter what you say," his voice was so soft that you believed him.

"I'm just doing as I was told.." you stuttered.

"I thought so," he said sadly. "I guess that you've never met him before, right? Now that you've seen him up close, do you at least like him?"

"Eris," he added when you didn't respond right away.

"l-I'm not sure, my l-" Your heart was beating in your ears so fast. "I mean, he's quite good looking, but I'm-.. I don't know him well."

You felt like fainting any minute now, your vision blurring. If your husband overheard this conversation, he would certainly get so angry. Under no circumstances should a wife speak ill of her husband. Not even slightly. That was the very first rule you were taught.

"It's okay, my dear," in a blink of eye High Lord of Night was at your side, one hand supporting you, the other one gently rubbing on your back. "Just breathe. Deep breaths, yeah? Nobody's going to find out about what you said here. Don't worry."

Slowly you calmed down. Only once your heart slowed down, his hands moved to your face, lifting it up so he could look into your eyes. You gaped at him in surprise. Remembering the manners, you tried to avert your eyes to the side just above his shoulder as it was expected. However, he wouldn't let you, forcing your gaze back to his face with sad smile.

"Now listen to me carefully, dear Y/N. This isn't Hewn city. Whatever you experienced there, it's over now. You certainly heard all kinds of rumours about Eris and I'm not going to lie to you and say that that isn't true because it is. However, it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you too. If he was after all, you don't have to put up with it. If he ever hurts you, just let me know and I'll sent someone to get you to safety. Will you remember that?"

Whole galaxies danced in those violet-blue eyes that searched yours, genuine care seeping from each of his words. You quietly nodded, unable to find your voice.

"Good girl," he really smiled then. That kind grin completely changed his expression. If he was handsome before, now he was breathtaking. "I really hope you'll find your happiness here."

With that he stepped back and his hands casually slipped into the pockets of trousers. He once again looked up at the night sky.

"Autumn is beautiful season. I'm sure that you'll like it once you settle down enough to start to explore your new home. Tonight it's quite cold. Let's get you back inside. Eris gets mad if you catch cold because of me."

Offering you his arm, he escorted you back and to your seat. As soon as he noticed you, Eris stood up to hold a chair for you, his eyes narrowed at Rhysand.

"Unharmed. Just as I promised," Rhysand winked at him. Then he took your hand and placed a kiss on its back. "Be happy, dear Y/N."

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered, bowed to him and sat down. With a one-sided grin Rhysand spun on his heel and headed to his mate who was currently talking with some beautiful lady near to the dance floor.

Your husband slid into his seat, his gaze burning holes into Rhysand's back. He was quite displeased. You felt it even without looking up at him. Once you were again alone his hand found yours under the table.

"You are freezing cold," he murmured and his skin heated with magic. The warmth seeped into your brittle hands. For a moment your tension melted like a snow with the touch of his long fingers.

In contrast to the warm touch, when he spoke again, his voice was so cold and angry that you shivered. "What did he want?"

Breath caught in your throat, heart skipped few beats as all blood left your face.

"My lord," you said in small trembling voice, trying to swallow the lump that rose in your throat.

Eris cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing. He said nothing, waiting for your answer.

"He asked me," you stammered, "about the wedding. A-and offered me help.."

"Help?" His fingers drummed impatiently on the table and then clenched into fist.

"Yes, my lord."

"What kind of help?"

You slightly cringed in your seat.

"T-to run away a-and shelter."

His hand squeezed your fingers firmer and you prepared for pain. Then he suddenly let go and started to slowly retreat back to his personal space. All the warmth left with him.

"And," he spoke quietly and slowly, "do you want to go with him?"

You panicked, your breath becoming labored. When your father spoke like this, it always meant the worst punishment. You knew what to expect from him, what kind of torment, but this male? You had no idea what he would do to you. Would he just beat you up? Or would he even burn you? Dozens of possibilities flashed through your mind.

"Do you want to go with him?" he repeated his question when it took you too long to answer.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of your skirt, but even that couldn't stop the tremor.

"N-n-no, my lord, n-never."

The tears began gathering behind your closed eyelids. You waited for the punishment. His fingers lightly touched the back of your hand, hesitantly, slowly moving forward until both of your hands were once again in his warm grip. He lightly squeezed them.

You heaved shakily. Opening eyes, you blinked away tears and gazed at your connected hands on your lap. His thumb was gently rubbing your knuckles now. It was.. comforting.

It was unbelievable. He did nothing to you, only held your hand. In disbelieve you looked up at his profile. He was again watching the dancing couples, his expression unreadable. After a while he turned to you with a tight smile. His eyes were soft and somehow sad when they met yours.

"I'd let you go, if you said that you wanted to."

The tears were back, stinging your eyes, but for the different reason now. Would he really let you go? Just like that?

Something sparked in your chest and hope filled your heart. Rhysand's words echoed in your mind: 'it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you'. You prayed to the Mother that it was true.

You shook your head decisively. "I don't want to," you said.

The corners of his mouth turned up for a second in a hardly there smile. As if he just reminded himself where he was, your husband broke the gaze, turning back to dancers and the unreadable mask slid back to his face with almost audible click.

You were breathless. His amber eyes. They engraved straight into your soul. For that short moment you saw flames burning in them, wild and sensual, playful and lustful but never hurtful.

Without knowing what you were doing, you freed one hand and placed it on his. The movements of his thumb stilled, whole his body tensed. You turned your other hand in his grip palm up, your fingers timidly intertwined with his. Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly looked down on your hands and then up at your face. With a small smile he relaxed in his chair. His fingers clenched, holding you firmly while thumb danced over your skin in rhythmic motion that matched the music.

The party went on for another three hours, some of the guests were already so drunken that servants had to help them into their seats. No one could leave before the newly married couple. It was around the midnight and you were so tired. It was a long and tiring day for you and it was starting to take its toll. Enveloped in pleasant warmth, your eyelids grew too heavy and it was getting more and more harder to fight the sleep.

Suddenly Eris's hand slipped from between yours and he called for servant with a small gesture. The boy immediately ran to him and leaned closer. Your husband told him something and boy disappeared. Not even a minute after that two maids appeared and approached you. They stopped to bow and one of them stepped closer to whisper to your ear.

"Please, follow us, my lady."

Fully awake now, you looked at Eris in silent question, but he only nodded imperceptibly. Your eyes flew to your father who gave you a scary look. The message was clear: if you messed this up, you would regret it.

It was time for the last part to conclude and seal the deal for good.

The marriage consummation.

A lump rose in your throat, cold sweat running down your spine. Mother told you what to expect, they taught you what to do to please your husband, but it didn't mean you were ready for that or that you wanted it. Your husband was handsome and his behaviour toward you was nice and a complete surprise so far, but still he was a stranger.

Whether you wanted or not, you had to do this.

Quietly accepting your fate, you stood up and on unstable legs followed the maids. As you were getting away from the ballroom, the music gradually died down until you were walking through completely silent part of the castle. The winding hallways were dimly lit and empty, red carpet muffled the footsteps. Here and there you noticed a huge painting or some shiny exhibited armor or statue. It was hard to say how far it was to your destination, but your heart was beating harder and faster with every step you took nonetheless.

Maids finally stopped before a tall oak double doors, as far as you could see the only one in this hallway. One of them opened it, the other one waited until you went in and then closed the doors behind.

You found yourself in some private sitting room. Fae lights dimly illuminated the huge finely decorated space in warm light brown, gold and beige colours. The windows were covered with heavy curtains, small fire crackled in a hearth in the corner of the room. There was smaller dinning table near the windows and set of sofas and armchairs with small pillows in autumn colours around the hearth. Bookshelves were full of books, soft looking carpet on the floor. It was cozy.

On each side of the room, there were identical double doors. Maids headed to the one on the left and opened it widely. With heavy heart to followed them into the bedroom with a massive bed that dominated to the room. Except of the bed there were also two ottomans and coffee table, vanity, mirror, some drawers and another doors that probably led to walk-in closet and bathroom. You could love it if only it wasn't a place for certain act you weren't ready for.

You swallowed hard, your eyes glued to that monstrous bed. Maids disappeared behind one of the doors and soon you heard sounds of running water from there. They were running around, preparing everything necessary, giving you a moment to breathe through the panic creeping on you. Then they came back to you. Without a word they helped you to free yourself from the heavy dress and corset.

Once in the bathtub they conscientiously washed every part of your body, massaging some nice smelling bath oils into your skin. After that they wrapped you in a soft towel and ushered you back to the bedroom to the vanity where they took care of your hair and helped you into the nightgown. They worked carefully but fast.

When they left, you looked in the mirror. The nightgown was made of fine, almost transparent fabric that hugged your body, leaving just little to imagination. You were on the verge of crying.

Internally panicking you sat down on one of ottomans because good wife should never go to bed before her husband and repeating to yourself all you were taught about the act, you waited.

And you waited and waited until you fell asleep.

Taglist: @nocasdatsgay @b0xerdancer @lilah-asteria @talesofadragon @marvelbros-oneshots @acourtofbatboydreams @li0nh34rt

[centrally-unplanned]

Saw this really cool post of a 1982 "SF" (Science fiction but in Japan that included things like anime, manga, tokusatsu, etc at the time) magazine that did a survey of active fan groups/circles at the time - ~woo, precious data! Lets see what we got:

Love to see a good gender breakdown - as is often the case in these things, while it is of course majority men the number of women participating is very strong. You do notice the age imbalance there - many women in their teens and college-aged, but it drops off quickly. I suspect that this is primarily because this survey is right in the middle of the first wave of the "pop SF boom", where more approachable works like Gundam and new manga subgenres were rapidly growing the community. So the older cadre was more heavily men, while the new group is more balanced. However, this is the early 1980's - it might just be that when a woman graduates college she was expected to marry and "settle down" still, inhibiting participation in these kinds of groups. I think it is primarily the former, Japan had pretty rapidly changed in the 1970's and female creative types were commonplace by then, but I won't pretend the latter players no role.

The writing on this page just contextualizes the piece, not much to report, though it does note that "3 people replied 'other' for gender...as a joke!" Sure, jan!

Anyway, on to page 2, what is our poll question of the day...

ロリコンについてどう思いますか? What do you think about lolicon?

....*siiiiiighs* guys I didn't, I didn't look at the second page before typing this up! I just wanted to report the gender data! This just happens to me, I swear -_-

But I can't back out now I guess:

It actually splits the question by gender - men are asked "are you a lolicon" while women are asked "what do you think of guys who are lolicon" - sexists, way to erase the female lolicon. Not actually joking there, it is a quite a thing due to its overlap with rape and dubcon fetishes - but I won't pretend I have expertise on the prevalence of that in 1982 Japan's SF community, even if it you see it today. Anyway, most men are not lolicons (the tallest line), though others fall on a spectrum from interested to "graduated", certainly a choice of words one could make.

Funnily a good dozen say they are called that by others, but not themselves - I believe that is related to the vague line between loli & shoujo aesthetics at the time. Which is important to emphasize, as I always do on this topic - sometimes the word lolicon just means "youthful" or "cute", sometimes it means like high schoolers, and sometimes it means real-deal underage stuff, and you won't know without context.

Meanwhile two women label lolicon men as "cute!", good for those two living their truth, while others are broadly tolerant but have Opinions. Which is fun, because the rest of the page is people sharing said opinions, sorted into "good" or "bad"! Some choice ones:

★ It's a symptom of modern civilization’s sick parts, but also an inevitable phenomenon. It’s better than having a rabbit or cat complex. Don’t lay hands on young girls. Lolicon must remain platonic. (♂/19/)

You see this theme a bit, "symptom of modernity", the new sexual fetishes are a product of a changing world. Certainly up for debate, but also very "in vogue" for the 80's & 90's to worry about that sort of declinist narrative. Then again, guy is a catgirl and bunnygirl hater, not sure we should listen to their shit taste.

On the flip side you get the "natural way of things" types, of which this is my favourite:

★ There’s nothing abnormal about having a dream involving an uncontrollable urge towards pre-teens. Even Romeo and Juliet would have made Romeo a lolicon given Juliet’s age (14), but people don’t think of it that way. Only at that age can girls love and respect men without ulterior motives. (♂/19/)

That last line, you are telling me so much about you with that one!! You can see how this is discourse, right? Like if one side says you are a "symptom of modernity" you ofc respond with "this is how all guys are" and with callbacks to traditional culture.

The "bad" side has a lot of ruthless condemnation, with more than one call for the lolicons to simply die or labelling them worthless scum. The magazine's writers do try to keep the tone breezy but I do think this topic being actually contentious in the community pokes through here. Though this serious one really did undercut herself a bit at the end:

★ I can understand why one person of the same gender might feel admiration or affection for a child or young girl, but for a man to only be able to love much younger women? That’s a mental illness! If they aren’t willing to fix themselves, they might as well die. They’re enemies of women. It's not going to turn out like Nabokov's Lolita. (♀/20s/)

I mean they did also kill jesus Humbert Humbert in Lolita. that was a pretty significant thing that happened. like i understand where you’re coming from here but they very much did kill the Lolita guy.

There is an editorial at the end, and it echoes something one of the comments also states; that the lolicon boom was seen as coming from "hard" SF fans, the people who did the really nerdy stuff. There is a word they use actually which is neat: 根暗/Nekura, meaning someone with a "gloomy root". It began seeing use as a slang for hyper-serious, boorish people in the late 1970's and became a fad to use in precisely 1982 - here is a live record of that! They associate "hard SF" fans with these sort of gloomy types who can't take a joke or appreciate hanging out with the buds at a bar, that kind of thing. From there, and here I am reading between the lines, these fans like a sort of "idealistically sterile" world, and lolicon as a preference (in comparison to Real Adult Women) flows naturally.

I mention this because astute readers might be going "oh, like otaku?" and that word was only just buzzing around at this time - it is typically dated to 1983. The editorial writers note that these nekura-types are nowadays proud of that fact, wearing it like an identity:

A: I’m not really sure why, I don’t fully understand the inner workings of the SF world, but it’s like, out there, hardcore SF fans are considered gloomy. Maybe that’s why there’s this connection to lolicon? B: But surprisingly, everyone’s actually pretty cheerful. In today’s world, the 'dark and gloomy tribe' is trendy. It’s like they’re enjoying calling themselves gloomy, almost as a fashion statement.

So yeah, I can totally see proto-otaku discourse going on at the edges here.

There is a third page but it continues in a similar vein. A bunch of mentions of Hideo Azuma, who I am growing increasingly convinced was more of a lodestone for the lolicon boom than is currently appreciated - he is the ur-reference everyone makes. More discussion of girls in sailor uniforms as a gateway drug, yeah yeah, "is fine as long as its fiction", of course of course, one of the magazine editors remarking he wants "a wife for practical uses but a daughter as a pet" yeah okay we can call it we're done here, no more survey data anyway.

Not the topic I expected to find, but still this is really valuable "primary source data" - you can't trust the literary class fully on these things, having first hand quotes from community members on otaku culture in the era is always valuable.

Sorry if you got tricked into reading this - in my defense I did too!

[sublimecatgalaxy]

AAAAAAAAA PEETA ENEMIES TO OOVERS AND THE “I really don’t like you” DIALOUGE OH MY LORDT IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH IM SO EXCITED AKRJSKFNMFH

I LOVE THIS!!

"Did Effie give you the speech too?" Peeta asks as he enters the back of the train, his presence tugging an eyeroll from me and I mentally hit myself for not hiding in the bathroom instead- somewhere where he can't he can't be obnoxiously nice to me.

"About behaving?" I ask him, scooting over so he can sit next to me on the couch, folding my legs up into my chest as I hug them. "Yes."

"She told me I'm supposed to try to convince you to like me." Peeta says with a small smile and blushed cheeks and it almost makes me smile but I remember that I promised myself to choose to be annoyed by him so I would not inevitably fall in love with him.

But it's so damn hard.

"That's easier said than done." I scoff, looking out the window at all of the colored trees, trying to not make eye contact with him, knowing better than that and knowing that a blush would immediately rise up my neck and my cheeks would heat up.

"C'mon." He nudges me, electricity sparking under his touch and it sends goosebumps up my arm and down my spine. "I bet, deep down, you tolerate me more than you think." I give him a deadpanned look and a scoff, lying through my teeth with a shake of my head.

"I really don't like you." I mutter, glaring at him through my lashes as he laughs, shaking his head at my blatant lie.

"And I really don't believe you." He sighs, stretching his arm out on the couch behind me, leaning towards me a bit with a simple pat on my shoulder. "This whole tour will go ten times smoother if you just let go a bit."

"I just really don't want to be here." I breathe sincerely, finally meeting my gaze and I allow myself to slip into him for a moment, leaning into the way that his hand rests on my shoulder, soothingly rubbing circles into my skin.

"And it's not my fault that you are." His voice is stern and an example of his frustration towards my faux dislike towards him and I give him a soft smile, nodding my head in acknowledgment. Maybe I'll go easy on him this time. "I don't want to be here either."

"I know." I reach up to pat his hand that's sitting on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, I get it." He shrugs and I laugh, feeling frustrated but also comforted tears rise to my eyes but I'm quick to blink them away.

"You're too nice." I scoff, watching him make his way to his feet, prepared to walk out of the room but he turns to me at the last second and he sends me a wink.

"Eh, it balances out your attitude."

"Peeta!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

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[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

(Somewhat disorganized thoughts to follow…)

So I’m sitting here thinking about Good Omens, as usual. And I’m wondering. What if Aziraphale hadn’t gone to chat with the Metatron?

Because it’s easy to say “awww yisss there would have been love confessions and kisses and everything would be better.”

But would it?

Because as the great Bildad the Shuhite said, “Nothing has to change.”

If there’s anything this 6000-year slow-burn has shown us, these two are content to remain… not exactly the same, but changing in glacially slow ways (and also not really content, but they’ll fucking do it anyway).

I think watching Gabriel and Beelzebub go off together got them both to realize that things could be different. But would that be enough to get them talking? Or would they have just gone off to their alcoholic breakfast, made a few jokes about whatever the hell’s just happened, then wind up back at the shop drunkenly talking about dolphins and bird space ships again, the needle on their relationship barely moved? And stay that way until the Second Coming finally arrived to shake things up?

Because it’s not a question, really, of them realizing something or revealing something. They both know.

Crowley knows what he wants, but he’d rather spend the next thousand years scowling from the sidelines and watching his angel be a happy idiot than actually put his feelings into words.

And Aziraphale—well, he has ideas, more than we give him credit for, he isn’t wholly oblivious, but his ideas are happy little dream worlds he can play out in his mind. He’s waiting for a better deal—not better than Crowley, obviously, but better than the precarious balance they currently exist in. A perfect shiny happy ending where everything is Good and Nice. And he’s willing to wait basically forever, just thinking about how nice it will be when it happens.

They need nudges. They need excuses. Especially Aziraphale. He sets up this whole ball for Nina and Maggie (partially) so he can ask Crowley to dance for the first time, but he’s there every day! You can just ask him to dance any time! He still denies having a “special” person to amnesia Gabriel. He doesn’t remember anything! Literally everyone in Heaven and Hell and also Earth think you’re an item now anyway! Just say the words!

The nudge for him was the Metatron’s offer. Taking charge of Heaven. Crowley at his side. They can make the Good guys truly Good. No one to question whether they belonged together. Happy ending.

Crowley’s nudge, of course, was Nina and Maggie telling him to goddamn say something. And I don’t think any of them realize it, but that had to be his conversation. If the two ladies had come over and talked to Aziraphale the same way (solo), he’d throw all his defenses back up and that would have been the end of it. If they’d talked to angel and demon together, well. These two are idiots. Aziraphale and Crowley would have refused to take the conversation seriously, talked circles around their guests, and left for their breakfast, laughing together over those humans and their ideas.

So for Crowley to get his nudge, he had to be alone when they visited, and for that to happen, Aziraphale had to go have his talk with the Metatron. Aziraphale had to get a perfect enough option to overcome his anxiety, and for that he needed his chat.

Now, am I saying that without the Metatron’s interference they never ever would have moved forward? Maybe. They’re complete idiots, your honor.

Maybe not, though. As I said, they just watched another angel and demon go off together. Would that be enough for Crowley to realize that, hey, actual communication sometimes has good results? Would that be close enough to a perfect ending to assuage Aziraphale’s fears?

I don’t know if we can say for sure. But I’ve been trying to play out that last scene in the bookshop differently to find where the path to the happy ending was, and I think this is the answer. Aziraphale needed to not go to the Metatron at all. They needed to be on their way before Nina and Maggie decided to visit. And then… somewhere in the talking and drinking that followed, one of them would have to take a risk.

And like, have you met these two? They’d be dooooooomed…

[iliketangerines]

Hii! I LOVE the way you write your fanfics and I was wondering if you’d be comfortable making a Quan Chi one(mk1) where he uses his tentacles(wink wink):33?

bound to him

a/n: why yes i can write this

pairing: quan chi x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), tentacle sex, blowjobs (?), bondage (???)

you tend to the monster, throwing fish and all sorts of Netherrealm foods to it and watch as the food disappears to the bottom in a snap

it’s a tedious job, feeding and taking care of the environment that the monster lived in, but it was quite a rewarding one, one where you got a big payout and place to live

besides, at the end of the day, you would talk to the monster, and it would talk back with you in clicks and deep reverberating hums into the water and air

you knew that it could understand you, judging by the way a tentacle rubbed at your back as you talked about how lonely you were sometimes

sure, you didn’t do the glamorous work that the other sisters did in the Sisterhood of Shadows but taking care of the monster was just as important since Quan Chi used the monster quite a bit

it clicked and hummed and nodded a tentacle at you, and you gestured to it, thanking it in an exasperated tone and put your head into your knees once more

sighing into your skin, you feel the tentacle rubbing at your back, and you said that you had nothing against him…her…it? whatever, but sometimes you wished Quan Chi had given you a different job

you all were sisters but they all found you weird for taking care of the tentacled monster and never included you in anything

not to mention, you had to wear a different uniform because you worked with the monster, short and thin and with plenty of skin because of the sheer heat of the environment the monster lived in

it clicks sadly and rubs your back once more, and you thank the monster and sigh into your knees, staring at the pool of lava it lived in

closing your eyes, you say to the monster that you also wished Quan Chi would just notice you, he talked to all of the sisters, treated them well, but he never said anything to you

you’re not sure if it’s because he only hired you out of pity or whether he just thought you were weird for enjoying taking care of his monster companion thing

the monster continues to coo at you, and you bring a hand to pat its warm tentacle resting on your shoulder

you touch a hand instead of one of its tentacles, and you freeze and look behind you and find Quan Chi towering over you, a smug smirk donning his face

you yelp and stand up hurriedly, nearly falling into the lava pool if it weren’t for the monster’s tentacles holding you up and helping you balance as you bow to the sorcerer

he laughs and tells you to relax, musing that you wanted him to give you more attention, and you let out a nervous laugh but it dies out and leaves you in an awkward silence

shaking in your spot, you can feel Quan Chi’s gaze trailing over your body and your trembling hands and how the tentacles keeps a protective hold on your ankle

he says that the monster has taken quite the liking to you, and you laugh awkwardly and say that it has, likes to hold a conversation and particularly likes the taste of fish

Quan Chi hums, and you shut up, keeping your eyes firmly planted to the floor and watching how the tentacle wraps around your ankle comfortingly

you see his feet appear in your line of vision and his finger hooks underneath your chin to tilt your gaze to meet his

a shiver runs down your spine as he observes you, moving to grab onto your chin and moving your head from side to sid  as he observes you

he asks if it likes you, and you hear the monster let out a loud rumble and click, another tentacle wrapping around your other ankle

the sorcerer hums at the monster’s answer, and a second passes where you wait for either of them to do anything, tentacles crawling all about you

suddenly, they wrap tightly around your limbs and lift you into the air, arms bound behind you and legs spread, and Quan Chi circles around your form as you yelp in surprise

he asks if you knew that the monster was tied to him by body and soul and mind, every conversation you ever had with the monster, Quan Chi could also hear

your mouth goes dry as you remember every time you had gushed to the monster about how cool Quan Chi was and how hot and sexy he was

you stutter and try to explain, face heating with embarrassment, but he waves a hand and a tentacle shoves its way into your mouth, effectively shutting you up

he continues to circle around you, trailing a finger along the length of your leg and up your back, and you shiver at the contact

finally, he makes his way back to your view and walks close to you, hands coming up to the pants of your uniform and ripping them off

you squeal, the sound muffled by the tentacle in your throat, and you struggle to close your legs and how aroused you were by the whole situation

Quan Chi lets out an amused huff at how your pussy drools onto the ground, and he asks if you knew why your uniform was so different from the others

truthfully, whether or not you wore the costume didn’t affect how warm you were going to be as long as you wore the necklace around your neck, the charm would keep your body cool from the lava, he simply wanted to see more of your skin

his hands trail along the inside of your thigh, tentacles gripping tighter onto your skin, and one of his fingers bumps against your clit, a muffled sound coming from your throat

the sorcerer smiles and steps back, waving his hands, and another set of tentacles appear, two of them ripping off your shirt and squeezing your chest and rubbing your nipples

another one comes up to replace where his hand was, rubbing at your clit and collecting your want on the length of it, and you moan at the feeling of the textured tentacle run along you

you squirm in the tentacle’s hold, hips bucking uselessly as you whine and moan, and Quan Chi just watches, rubbing his chin with a hand while he smirks at you

the tentacle in your mouth starts to fuck in and out of your mouth, making your eyes flutter close as you let it abuse your mouth and fill your senses

the other one squirms against you to vie for your attention, and your legs twitch as you feel it move to start pushing into your wet pussy, stretching and filling it

it’s thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you keen, struggling as you thrash and shake as it pushes and pushes and pushes right into your sweet spot

you twitch and whine pathetically as it wetly thrusts into your dripping pussy, your want dipping down its length and onto the ground, and another tentacle come down to rub at your swollen and sensitive clit

same as before, it runs its textured length along your clit, and your mind goes blank as the tentacle in your mouth thrusts deeper and deeper

pleasure runs through your veins, turning your brain to mush, and the stimulation becomes all too much all too quickly as the tentacles abuse your mouth and pussy while teasing your chest

your back arches as much as you can under your restraints as you cum, body shaking and twitching as you mewl pathetically through the tentacle

the lack of air makes your head spin and the pleasure fray your body and mind, and the tentacles only quicken in their pace, fucking into you ruthlessly through your orgasm

as your high finally dies out, the tentacles slow down enough for you to collect your scattered thoughts to open your eyes, and you find Quan Chi still staring at you through your blurry vision

he comes in close to rub a thumb along your cheek, collecting your tears on his finger and smiling at the sight of you drooling and cockdrunk

the sorcerer waves his hand, and the tentacles start their ruthless pace once more, the sound of wet squelching filling the air as you feel the last threads of your mind tethered to reality break

Quan Chi truly was lucky to have found someone so receptive, he would have fun fucking you senseless

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Home~ Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

Summary: Leaving behind everything he knew was hard for Neteyam and then adapting to the ways of the new clan was even harder. He'd push himself, overwork and exhaust himself even, to live upto his family's expectations; never really giving his own wants a second thought. That's why Y/N was the prefect companion for him, someone who kept things in his life balanced, who made sure to let him know that what he wanted was just as important, perhaps even more so, than what everyone else wanted of him.

//slow burn, cute fluff, Neteyam being a sad bean//

masterlist, Part 4

Part 3

🫧

Jake was sure his eyes would pop out of their sockets any minute now. With every word his sons uttered his blood pressure only went higher and higher to a point where he was sure he was due for a stroke. From what he was hearing he was affirmative he passed down only a singular braincell that was being shared by his sons.

"You said what" Jake's voice cracked, hand flying up to pull at his hair "Neteyam she is the chief’s daughter!"

"I know, I screwed up" the older boy hung his head in shame, still cringing at how he handled the situation.

"And you didn’t disappoint as well did ya? You beat up the chief’s son" Jake turned to Lo'ak who was also looking everywhere but at him "He takes us in, trains us and this is how you show appreciation? By harassing his kids"

"He was picking on Kiri" Lo'ak tried to defend himself, knowing well that it wouldn’t work.

"Go make peace with Aonung" his father sighed "I don’t care how you do it but just.. go"

Lo'ak walked away in defeat, in no mood whatsoever to argue. Besides, he did agree that the situation could’ve been handled better and they both did contribute to making the situation worse than it already was.

"And I didn’t really expect this from you of all people" Jake continued once his youngest son was out of earshot "what were you thinking, talking to the poor girl like that?"

"I'm sorry, I was being an idiot" Neteyam apologised. He had kept his own feelings under wraps for so long, only concerned with looking after his siblings to a point where he had finally reached his limit and like a bomb, exploded earlier that day "I'll go fix it"

"Damn right you will" His dad let out another disappointed sigh "now get outta here"

_

Neteyam dragged his feet through the sand, absolutely dreadding having to face Y/N again. He was sure she hated him now, she'd made it pretty clear by letting them know that she wouldn’t volunteer to train them any longer and he wanted to run into a wall for ruining everything. His siblings liked her, they loved every second they spent with the girl and he made a mess of it by allowing his emotions to possess him.

He begrudgingly searched around the village, not really sure of what he could possibly say that would fix the damage he caused.

What he did not expect, on top of all of this, was to find Y/N with his mother. They both were practising archery, or more like Y/N was struggling to keep up with Neytiri.

"Yes, keep your shoulders pushed back" She circled the younger girl, giving her helpful critique "no, don’t hold on to the arrow so tightly"

The boy sheepishly approached, a bit more nervous than what he already was.

“Neteyam?” His mother called out when she finally saw him, shifting even Y/N’s attention to him. The moment her saphire eyes landed on him, he felt small, all his pride and confidence from before withering away under her gaze.

“Am I interrupting?” He asked, offering a polite smile nonetheless.

“No, you can come and help Y/N” Neytiri responded. She knew her children liked to spend time with the girl, completely oblivious of the events that took place earlier that day.

“It’s okay” Y/N immediately butted in, keeping her voice steady “he’s probably got other stuff to do”

“Not really” Neteyam knew she didn’t want him there but he wasn’t going to leave until he had a chance to properly apologise “no lessons today, remember?”

“Why not?” His mother asked, curiously.

“I got held up with something” Y/N lied convincingly and Neteyam understood that she wasn’t planning on telling anyone about what happened earlier. He was a smidge grateful for it, he wasn’t really wanting to earn a scolding from his mother as well.

“I can help you with this you know” he tried again, pushing his luck and hoping she’d just let him stay.

“No thank you, I’m fine” she snapped without missing a beat, looking toward the makeshift target once again and away from him.

Neytiri glanced between the two teens. The tension among them was intense and evident. What had suddenly caused such a weird atmosphere between them?

Her eyes searched her son’s and he stared right back her pleadingly and she could tell that he wanted to be around Y/N whilst she was actively trying to be rid of him. Something clearly went down between the both of them and the best thing to do was to take a step back and let the two of them sort things out.

“I have to make sure Tuk is with Kiri” the older woman made up a reason to excuse herself “I will be back, keep practicing”

She gave her son a look before she walked away, leaving behind a thankful Neteyam and an annoyed Y/N.

“Here” he sweetly approached her, reaching out to fix her form but she simply shifted away with an ‘I’m good’ and continued to shoot arrows that missed the target “trust me, I’m just trying to help”

Still not meeting his gaze, Y/N silently nocked another arrow. This time she didn’t scoot away from him so Neteyam took it as a ‘go’ for him to help her out. He was quite good at archery, he’d earned good praise from the other hunters in his clan.

He placed his hands under her forearms to raise her hand a bit that had begun to droop from tiredness. He then lifted her elbows slightly, inching closer until his nose was almost grazing her cheek.

“Loose” he whispered, right before she let the arrow whizz through the wind and hit the target. Not the centre, but still quite close. Impressive really for someone’s first lesson.

“I did it!” She happily chirped, as if she’d forgotten she was upset with him. Her face lit up and she chuckled with pure joy before she cleared her throat, regaining her stoic composure.

“I’m sorry about what I said” he wasted no time, lest she picked up her stuff and left. She already seemed to not want him around “it was arrogant and ungrateful of me. I was trying to defend my siblings but I guess I ended up letting out all of my pent up frustration on you, a-and that was wrong of me”

He was relieved that she at the very least was listening to him so he continued.

“I didn’t mean what I said, that you’re nothing more than a privileged girl” he looked at her, hoping she’d meet his eyes but she didn’t “we both know that’s not true and I fully understand why you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore. I won’t show up to your lessons if that’s what you want, but don’t distance yourself from Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk- they like to be around you”

“That’s not what I want you know” she put away the bow to go retrieve the many arrows that had missed the target, now scattered in the sand “I thought we’d all get along. I liked being around them too, you included”

Neteyam’s ears pointed upward, like a child hearing praise from a parent.

“But then you said the most cruel things today, things I never thought you’d ever utter” she continued sadly “and I thought maybe I was wrong about you-“

“I’m sorry” he said again, feeling really stupid that that’s all he could really say “it’s been hard leaving the forest. That was my home, it’s all I’ve ever known. And then all of a sudden I’m in a place where I don’t know how to do the simplest of things, I feel useless”

“You aren’t useless, I know Aonung likes to poke fun and I know you miss your home but I really wished you’d just come and spoken to me about it instead of being mean to me” she finally looked at him, her pretty eyes saddened “I thought we’d be friends”

“We can be!” He said almost too enthusiastically, cheeks heating up slightly at his childish eagerness “I’ll make it up to you”

“How” she crossed her arms and tilted her head, patiently waiting for him to come up with something.

Neteyam pouted as he thought for a minute, wondering what he could possibly do for the daughter of Tonowari that would make her give him another chance. She was already a princess of a sort, probably too used to receiving gifts.

After another minute of thinking, he broke into a grin.

“Wait here” he held his hands out in front of him, asking her to stay put

“Huh-“ Y/N walked behind him, her hand dropping the arrows to the ground again “I’m still mad at you Neteyam”

“You won’t be after this” he smirked at her before fully breaking into a sprint “hopefully”

Y/N watched the boy run off into the distance, wondering what he could possibly do to change her mood.

Knowing some of the boys here on the island, most of them would give her shells or wild flowers when she’d be upset. And if not the small gifts, then a forced apology that Aonung bullied them into.

She loved her brother, despite his pride and snarky attitude. Which is why she was also very protective of him. If he was at fault, she’d confront him no doubt but privately, away from the eyes of the public. She wasn’t the type to tell him off and embarrass him in front of anyone else who wasn’t their family. Which is why when she saw him scuffed up earlier, her initial response was for him to go and get himself looked after.

Did she really not deal with it correctly?

Did she favour her brother to much for his own good?

No, definitely not.

The familiar sound of flapping was what made her look up, taking away her thoughts completely from the situation she was thinking about.

“Y/N” Neteyam called out to her even though she already knew it was him.

His majestic ikran let out a screech as it made its descent, landing in the sand gracefully a few feet away from the girl.

“It’s really cool that you can swim fast and all, but I think you’ll find flying even cooler” he patted his ikran’s back, at the space right behind him on the saddle “come on”

Y/N was excited, probably a little too much. Her heart began to flutter and eyes were probably doing that thing again of just staring at the beast with wonder. She slowly walked toward the boy, trying to conceal her enthusiasm.

Neteyam chuckled at her reaction. It was obvious she was dying to get on but he knew she wouldn’t just show it on her face.

“First time seeing an ikran?” He joked, quoting himself during their first encounter when he caught her gawking. He held his hand out to her, looking at her with that same boyish grin he’d have on his face whenever she was around.

“Shut up” she rolled her eyes playfully as she took his hand, swinging one leg over the saddle and seating herself right behind him.

“Hold on tight” he turned around slightly to look at her, faces merely inches apart. Her eyes had flecks of lilac in them, he noted, something he hadn’t really noticed before “you’re going to love this”

Y/N did as she was told, wrapping her arms around his middle as he clicked his tongue a few times. His ikran spread out its large wingspan, letting out a short screech before flapping its wings and taking off.

Y/N shut her eyes tightly at the first gust of wind that blew against her face, tightening the grip around the boy’s torso.

“Open your eyes, you have to see this” she could hear the laughter in his voice as they arose higher and higher into the night sky “don’t worry, I won’t let you fall ma Y/N”

Blindly trusting him, since she was already a couple feet into the sky, she opened on eye and then slowly the other. A smile formed on her lips at how beautiful her home looked from up here. The waters glowed in its bioluminescence and sky was littered with stars.

“You know my dad came from that star” Neteyam pointed it out to her, looking back to see if she was too spotted it “you see it?”

“I see it” she confirmed, her laughter sounding like music to Neteyam’s ears amidst the wind.

As they circled around the village, Neteyam kept glancing back to look at her, as if he wanted to make sure she was truly enjoying this and to admire the smile for which he was responsible.

She doesn’t hate me now, he thought to himself, there’s no way she does anymore.

After a few more rounds around the islands, Neteyam landed his ikran near their shack. He wanted to keep flying, that was the one thing he loved to do even back home but he knew the poor thing was probably tired.

“Had fun?” he asked Y/N on their walk back, knowing the answer already.

“Mhm, I did-“

“Y/N!”

Both her and Neteyam looked toward the source of the sound: Aonung. He looked troubled, still bruised, but not the point.

“I screwed up” he told his sister, throwing a nervous glance at the Sully boy next to her.

“What happened?” His sister asked, looking at him with concern.

“I took Lo’ak to hunt outside the reef” he hesitantly said, refusing to look his sister in the eye and disappoint her even more than he already had “we left him behind as a joke but it’s been a while and he hasn’t come back”

“What” both Neteyam and Y/N exclaimed in sync, eyes going wide with panic.

“Oh my this is bad, this is bad..” Y/N was beginning to grow anxious, pacing around both the boys as she worked herself up even more.

“Hey okay, calm down” Neteyam held her by the shoulders, trying to keep her from falling apart. They needed to keep their heads cool, despite him wanting to punch Aonung in the face again “look Lo’ak might be an idiot but he can handle himself, he’s fine”

Y/N only nodded.

“Now, I’m going to go find my dad and tell him what we know” he glared at Aonung before looking at Y/N again, face softened “you go and tell your father”

“Right” Y/N nodded again, patting his arm “take Aonung with you pretty boy, and I’ll arrange for a few people to go look for Lo’ak”

“Sounds good” he then turned to her brother who was dead silent. He caught him by the back of his neck, not caring if he was rough about it “come on”

The three of them split up, hoping to hurry and find Lo’ak. He knew he’d only just mentioned that his brother was probably fine but he couldn’t deny he was worried shitless. This was a new turf, some place they were still unfamiliar with and getting lost out here was not something either of them could handle alone. And not to- wait..

She thinks I’m pretty?

[dizzycoffee]

Hi there, Hope your day is going well! Id like to request head cannons for Charlie, alastor, and Lucifer with a fem overlord reader who’s basically tohru from miss kobayashis dragon maid? Here is her wiki page to help :) : https://maid-dragon.fandom.com/wiki/Tohru

— Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer / Reader; Headcanons

i hope your day is also going well!! i wasn't fully sure if you meant the reader to be more power-like or personality-like, so i tried to keep it balanced?? i just hope you enjoy <3

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ HEADCANONS ･*:.｡..｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

— Charlie;

With both your personalities, you two often make the other residents / staff of the hotel sick

Like, it's hard to miss a moment when you aren't at least holding hands, much less be apart.

Being with Charlie, there could be friction between you and someone like Alastor, who would make it a point to rile you up just for the fun of it

Charlie's eyes widened, taking note of your glare the moment Alastor laid his claws on her shoulder. She chuckled nervously, immediately stepping back for distance. “You know better than that, Alastor,” she mumbled between a reluctant smile. Seeing his eyes narrow at your blazing figure, Charlie knew Alastor would continue to pester.

There are times when Charlie wonders how you, a powerful overlord who could easily destroy whatever is in your path, chose to live a life of redemption alongside her. She's never seen your powers, as you often restrain yourself from reacting with them.

Your devotion to her is also something that catches her off guard. She almost feels guilty knowing that you would do anything she asked for. It helps knowing you're hers, not trapped by someone who could take advantage of your love.

The moment Adam had even dared to look at Charlie, you were the first to jump into the fight. Fighting off the extermination was dragging out more and more, alongside your anger. It was in this moment, up on the roof as she tried to regain some sense of courage, that Charlie saw you show of a portion of your power. As Charlie watched fire come out your mouth which circled around Adam to keep him enclosed, she couldn't help but wonder what she did to deserve someone as devoted as you in her life.

— Alastor;

Everyone thinks you're absolutely insane for even wanting to be in his presence. And when Alastor doesn't bat an eye and actually lets you be close to him, everyone almost loses it

I feel like at first, he was more interested in the powers you have. He can see you're powerful and it intrigues him a lot. Even your dragon characteristics catch his attention.

When you show a clear romantic attraction, he initially brushes it off. He's not one to indulge in such activities... but he let you get close enough.

The end of Alastor's cane gently pushed you back. “Now, now my dear. What have we talked about?” He raised his brow at you, his piercing eyes meeting yours. You mustered up a sweet smile, easily recalling your previous conversion, “That personal space matters?” “Correct! You're more than welcomed to accompany me so long as you keep your hands to yourself,” his smile widened, patting your head. He didn't miss the way you swooned over his touch.

On the off chance that the two of you do get closer, he'll never outright say it. He'll keep you second-guessing his actions, which are all far too vague to fully decipher.

There are many days where its all the same, his enchanting words closer than how he physically is. It's all tame, almost superficial. But there are days where you find him closer than usual, days where his touch lingers and his smile almost seems softer than usual. Days that make you think he might actually care.

The overlords left the meeting room, leaving behind Alastor and your. Before you could even get up from your seat, you felt a hand be placed on your shoulder. You stayed put, heart beating faster than it should over a little touch. As the room fell quiet you let your eyes wonder until they met with Alastor's. He shifted in his seat, and you followed suit until you felt both your legs brush against one another. It was small touches like these, small and insignificant, that kept you coming back for more. You two stayed quiet, indulging in each other's company for a brief moment.

— Lucifer;

When he first saw you, he thought you were going to hate him, just like how Alastor hated him and all. So to avoid conflict, he tried to keep it professional and short.

That proved to be nearly impossible, since you were almost always by his side. He tried to be distant, he really did, but at some point he just sort of gave up and let things be

Will try to play it cool but he always ends up flustered when you show your devotion to him. It nearly killed him when you expressed that you’d do anything for him.

Lucifer chuckled softly, almost nervously. “I can’t seem to understand why you even want to be around me,” he admitted, though hesitantly. You tilted your head at him, brows furrowed in a puzzled manner. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I like you. I want to be with you, sir.”

He def was turned on /j

When he caught glimpse of your power, he nearly forgot he was Lucifer himself and got scared shitless. To think he’d been having you around and just a fraction of your power could annihilate anything that comes your way, which could possibly include him. He couldn’t tell if he was terrified or attracted to you in all honesty.

Of course, he understands that his own power if outmatched but damn does he feel sorry for whoever messes with you

After having watch you fight off some sinner for getting too close to him, Lucifer wrapped his arm around you. “I thought you were gonna chop off his hand,” he jested, laughing at how scared you left your victim. You raised a brow, “Did you want me to—” “No! No, uh, it’s fine! I swear!”

[fictionalsownme]

Do you have any tips that you're willing to share when it comes to writing Wilford? Like, tips to keep writing him as in character as possible?

Hi! I’d love to share some tips!! 🥰 Wil is pretty hard to write for to be honest ^^" It can be easy to fall out of the rhythm of his character since he's just so strange of a guy haha but I guess that's what makes him fun too! each of the points ended up pretty long so hopefully I didn't get too ramble-y!

anyway! hopefully some of these pointers help out! 💞

some disclaimers really quick: all of these are my own interpretation but by no means does anyone have to follow these or do I think I'm right or anything like that! also, this is for wmlw!wilford since I pretty much only write for him so far :) let's get into it!

Wil has two modes depending on how grounded he is. The first is a go-with-the-flow airhead who has no idea what's going on and is completely unbothered by this. Everything just washes right over him, and he seems to think everyone else is like this too. He speaks in non-sensical idioms half the time, each sentence only barely connecting to the last. His accent is pretty over the top in this headspace too! The second is when he's a bit more grounded, probably leaning more Colonel than Wilford. In my writing, he gets like this when he's reminded of his past (similar to wmlw), forced to be present in the current moment, or emotional in some way, etc. His accent is less subtle and more typically british, and he speaks in longer, more logical sentences.

Stress the right words in his dialogue. This one might just be a quirk of my writing style because I love to overuse italics as you can probably tell haha but Wil emphasizes really random words when he speaks, so even just sprinkling it in every once in awhile I feel like adds a lot!

Don't forget his body language. In a similar vein to the previous point, Mark's performance of Wilford is reallyyy physical, and dependent on his mannerisms. How he moves his hands is a big one, they hang in the air or land in interesting spots. Same for his expressions, how he tilts his head, how he sits and walks around, etc. Don't forget to keep him moving often unless he's still for a specific reason (scared, thinking, etc).

Have Wilford 'MOTHERLOVING' Warfstache on standby. I play wmlw pretty much on a loop & on silent in the background while I write him if I feel like I'm struggling to get him right. The way Mark acts him is so specific with his voice and his mannerisms and everything so having the video to refer back to is super helpful even just to get the vibe down. Sometimes I'll watch the whole thing start to finish before I start my writing session, though,, maybe I'm procrastinating hehe

Try to balance his humor, sweetness, and attractiveness. This one is a little weird, and probably depends on your preferences and what kind of fic you're writing, but for me, these are the main aspects of Wil's personality I like to focus on. Like, let's not forget, he's totally ridiculous. But he also seems very sensitive, and you know... he's hot. He's a goofball! I found myself forgetting the funnier side of his personality while I was working on my fic so I figured I'd throw it in :)

He's not as violent as he used to be. so it's clear that Wil doesn't have the temper that he did as the Colonel, but I like to take it a step further and say that once we reach WMLW, he doesn't struggle as much with violence. This is a bit more headcanon territory but Wil's violence post-WKM was based in a (mis?)understanding that death isn't real in this world. I think that plus his desensitization to violence eventually brought him full circle all the way back around to just being kind of passive. He's not scared of violence or guns at all (ie kissing Abe's gun) but he doesn't really bother with them himself either. I just like him as kind of a harmless clueless puppy idk 👉👈 hehe

I hope these helped, and lmk if you have any more questions! I like rambling about my boy(s) kikiki 💞 thanks for the ask!

[cowgurrrl]

So, you asked for domestic requests - it‘s not exactly humourous, but at least it‘s fluff: how about Joel taking care of a reader who‘s got bad cramps? She‘s kinda anxious about it and he‘s like „Darlin‘ a little blood never scared me“ or sth like that (totally not inspired by me being on my period and trying not die because the painkillers aren‘t working yet)

Anyways, no stress, it‘s only an idea. Feel free to ignore if you don’t wanna do it. Love your writing 💕 ok byeee

Thank you for your kind words! I love this idea and I hope you feel better soon 🫶❤️

Dramatic

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: This ended up being way shorter than I thought it was gonna be but enjoy it nevertheless!

Warnings: period talk, reader being (rightfully) annoyed with Joel, fluff, lmk if I missed anything!

“I just think you’re bein’ a little dramatic.” He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. You crossed your arms over your chest as you stood in the bathroom, staring at him as he lingered in the doorway.

“I’m going to give you a chance to rethink what you just said to me.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” he retries and you hum. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck. You roll your eyes but lock your arms around his shoulders. “And strong, and kind, and so incredibly out of my league.”

“And forgiving, too. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, the most forgiving,” He mumbles as he kisses your lips. You sigh against him, momentarily forgetting the stabbing pain in your lower abdomen.

It’s not that you were a stranger to your periods. Since the world fell apart, they were irregular if you even got them at all. Turns out running for your life and not being able to eat consistently while in Boston was not great for your body. But now that you were in Jackson, things were different. You had enough food, rest, and less anxiety than you had in a long time. Your period made her valiant return in response. Which is great, it’s what any other healthy person with a uterus would want, but learning to manage the symptoms again was a whole new playing field for both you and Joel.

The pain is, somehow, worse than you remember it, and your whole body feels tender and sluggish. You cried because you finished washing all the dishes in the sink only to go upstairs and find one of Joel’s mugs sitting on the bedside table. Poor Joel didn’t know what he was walking into once he got home from patrol and found you furiously scrubbing the cup. When he asked you about the blood staining your pants, you were just about ready to dig a hole into the center of the earth and die. That’s how he ended up following you into the bathroom even though you told him not to.

“How long have we been together?” Joel asks when you pull away. Your hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he looks at you with big, sympathetic eyes.

“Way too long.”

“You know that I love you and that I would do anything for you, right?” he asks, and you nod. “And you also know that I ain’t afraid of a little blood.”

“I know.”

“So, will you please let me help you? I’ll wash your clothes and run you a hot bath. Maybe make you a nice dinner?” His voice is so gentle and sweet that you practically melt into him. You’ll never understand how you got so lucky. “Or, if you want me to leave you alone, I can do that, too. Just tell me what you’re thinkin’, baby.” He urges as he rubs circles into your lower back. His hands are warm and just heavy enough to balance out your pain perfectly. You lay your head on his shoulder and relish in the feeling of his heartbeat against yours.

“I think that all sounds perfect. Thank you,” you say. You pick your head and move to kiss him again but stop just inches away from his face. “But I do think you’re being a little dramatic.” You whisper. He throws his head back and laughs, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink.

“I’m never gonna live that one down, huh?”

“Definitely not your best work, Miller.”

He makes it up to you ten times over. He lets you borrow a pair of his sweatpants after your bath, and you get to walk downstairs to a beautiful dinner and a glass of wine. Afterward, he even runs over to Tommy's and "borrows" a bowl of their strawberry ice cream. He even carries you up to bed when you fall asleep on the couch after listening to him strum his guitar, something that is saved for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries.

He may not always say the right thing, but goddammit, if that man doesn't try his absolute best to be good to the women in his life.

Just in case tumblr decides to eat my paragraph