#also they spelled her name as knot????

[brenatto-apothecary]

I saw someone was doing who's your favorite pc of each cast member polls and I was like okay ill look out for when the sam one shows up so I can rep my girl :) and then they had nott and veth listed separately and now im stubbornly ignoring it

[beah388love]

Dyslexia Problems

Full Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: you and Lando both have dyslexia

Warnings: swearing, dyslexia (if I’ve missed any please tell me!!)

You had gone golf with Lando and max for the day and they had randomly decided to go live on twitch. You was sat in the cart trying to cover your phone from the sun so you could read your text out but you huffed when all the letters were jumbled because of your dyslexia. “Lan? Is this spelt right?” You asked as you looked up to him as he held the camera.

He held his hand out and read your text but shook his head with furrowed brows when the letters were also jumbled from his dyslexia too. “Chat how do you spell neighbour?” Lando asked and looked at the chat to see the word repeated, some in caps.

“Okayyyyy thank you guys” Lando said with a little laugh as he typed the letters in on your phone and let you hit send.

“Thank you chat!” You said louder so they could hear you whilst max took his shot.

That was not all though….

Stupidly max asked you to read the subs out on the camera “thanks…uh- daivid? And thanks…kivy? For the subs” you smiled as you positioned the camera to look at max and Lando who were having a little play fight ending in Lando trying to poke max’s ass with the golf club and max running away with his hand covering his ass.

“Idiots” you shook your head behind the camera.

Chat:

User1: LMAOOOO THEIR SO FUNNY

User2: not y/n calling everyone the wrong name 😭

User3: ITS VICKY NOT KIVY 😭💀

User4: is she stupid?

User5: she’s dyslexic bro

You knotted your brows as you read the comments, “omg! Guys have I been calling you the wrong names?! I’m so sorry!” You gasped and slapped a hand to your mouth when you realised what the chat was talking about.

“Max! You take the camera! I suck at this job” you said dragging a hand down your face, “what are you talking about?” Max asked confused as he took the camera off of you.

“I can’t read the chat or their names…sorry guys” you said with an embarrassed smile “dyslexia?” Max grinned and you nodded “alright baby your turn!” Lando said as he handed you your golf ball.

“Thank you baby” you smiled as you took the ball from him.

“Y/n has really bad dyslexia guys” max explained as he read through some of the comments. “Yeah she hates it” Lando agreed with a nod of his head.

“You have dyslexia though” max pouted confused on why you hated it so much “yeah but hers is worse than mine and she loves reading but she has to use the text to speech thingy” Lando explained and max nodded “yeah she hates it” Lando gave a tight lipped smile but smiled when you walked over, he instantly wrapped a hand around your waist.

“Also chat- I didn’t wanna play this stupid game-“ I murmur to the camera but got cut off by Max “it’s a sport not a game” he corrected me for the 100th time.

I roll my eyes to the camera. “It’s a game.” I whisper to the camera making lando stifle a laugh.

……

This also occurred on streams…for example the time when Max was streaming with you and Lando.

You had somehow been given the job of calling out and thanking the subs..again.

“Thank you…uh- poopy?” I tilt my head and scrunch my brows as I read the username out and gasp when I read it again “sorry-! Sorry- I meant poppy..! Thanks poppy for the subs” I correct myself embarrassed

I hear lando’s laugh behind me as I’m sat on his lap, “Lan. it’s not funny-“ I roll my eyes playfully but he can’t help his laughs.

“Babe- you called her poopy?-“ he wheezes out whilst laughing, hiding his face in my hair from the stream. I shake my head smiling “I didn’t mean to!” I cover my face embarrassed.

Max is trying to bite back his laughs as he tries to focus on a game. He looks to the comments and bursts out laughing at all the jokingly offended fans.

I feel Lando squeeze his hold on my waist slightly “babe?” He whispers into my ear and I hum “mh?”

“Want your coloured slip thingys?” He asks quietly and I shake my head “no it’s fine..can you just read the subs out?” I ask and he nods “yeah.”

He continued to read the subs after that. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw the twitter posts the next morning…they did make me laugh.

…

Your dyslexia would also affect your texts…which were also pretty funny-

Lando was sat on the sofa at your shared apartment. max was also there but he was on the other sofa. Lando scrolled through instagram bored until he got a text from you.

Lando tried to read it and sighed, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He rubbed his forehead and looked up when max chuckled “what?” Lando asks

Max laughed “has y/n texted you?”

Lando nods “yeah- how’d you know?” He smiled confused

Max chuckled “cuz you look like your trying to read a different language” Lando laughed shaking his head

“Here you try and understand what she texted me.” Lando chuckled and handed his phone to max.

Y/N: Can yuo garb me smoe ciream?

Max knotted his brows as he tried to read it “fucking hell mate- how do her eyes make her think that’s right?”

Lando chuckled “don’t ask me.” He said as he took his phone back and texted back.

Lando: babe. I just had a headache trying to read that.

Y/N: gbra em some icremea?

Lando: it still ain’t spelt right babe.

Y/N: seriosly?

Lando: just call me. I cant keep trying to read this.

Max Fewtrell added to his story

Landonorris: I acc have a migraine after texting her.

Ynusername: blame my dyslexia not me ✋🏻

McLaren: you think her texts are bad..we have to deal with her emails!

User1: LMAO NOT MCLAREN CALLING HER OUT

User2: I WANNA SEE EM NOW 😭

Lewishamilton: relatable.

Ynusername: hey! Give me a break.

User3: how r her replies making sense if her texts don’t?

Landonorris: y/n uses autocorrect and speech to text to help her

Ynusername: idk what id do without it 😔✋🏻

…

This would also cause problems between her and her radio engineer, Fred.

“Freddie?” I ask into the radio as I hold the steering wheel tightly, going around a corner on the track.

“Yeah y/n?” He responds through the radio

“There’s something wrong with the uh- screen thingy-“ I say and Fred furrows his brows

“Uh- ya sure..? I’m looking now and it looks fine?” He asks confused

“It says I’m going at 013mph?” I ask confused as I ready screen on the car.

I hear Fred’s small chuckle through the radio “y/n- it’s your dyslexia. It says 103mph” he explains and I can’t help my embarrassed smile under my helmet

“Oh- I forgot about that. Thanks Freddo.” I giggle through the radio.

Fred chuckled “it’s fine. The cars fine though right?”

“Yeah- it’s fine. Just my dyslexia.” I giggle

I do another turn and sigh “Fred- what’s the gap?” I ask confused

Fred looks down at his screen “uh- Max is…0.845 seconds behind.” He reads and I nod

“Okay” I say as I try to remember the track in my head. I go to turn right but quickly swerve left.

“Shit- fuck- oops-“ I curse under my breath and I hear Fred through the radio

“What happened-?”

“I uh- I just forgot my left and right but it’s fine-“ I giggle quietly “sorry.”

Fred can’t help his laugh “don’t worry- just try to remember next time yeah?”

…

Or another struggle for you and Lando was cooking…

Lando was streaming whilst you and him baked or shall I say tried to bake a cake.

Lando was leaning against the counter, holding his phone with the recipe on it “uh- babe? I think we need help.” He says with knotted brows.

You look over to him “what? Why?”

Lando tuts as he tries to read the ingredients “I can’t make it out.”

You roll your eyes “lemme try” Lando scoffs lightly “okay- but I highly doubt you’ll be better than me.”

You try to read the ingredients and instructions but it’s all jumbled and messy “uh…never mind then.”

Lando chuckles and looks to the camera “guess we’re having pasta tonight chat.”

You giggle and nod “yup! Pasta it is.” You say as you grab different ingredients.

…

Lando, you and Oscar were doing an F1 game interview thingy for fun.

The interviewer had given you all your own white board. The game was that Oscar would have to guess the word that you and Lando got.

The interviewer smiles “okay- start.”

Lando and you look to the word on your boards. Lando tilted his head confused “uh…”

You also knotted your brows confused as you looked at the messy word. “Uh…lan? What does it say?” You whisper.

Lando chuckles “no idea..”

Oscar shakes his head amused “how the hell do I guess if you don’t know the word?”

Lando laughs lightly “uh- I think maybe you should do the word and me and y/n guess it.”

The interviewer giggles and nods “okay- switch if it’s easier”

Lando and you switch. Oscar chuckles “this is why we never let you two team up. You guys are awful together”

Lando nods with a laugh “two dyslexics.”

You giggle and nod “perfect match” you joke

[aphroditsdaughter]

GUILTY AS SIN

what if she’s written “mine” on my upper thigh but not only in my mind

paige bueckers x OC

pretty heavy stuff don’t read if you’re under 18 or do im not responsible for your media consumption (all the photos and graphics are from pinterest and belong to their original creators)

also a huge congrats to the uconn huskies for bringing the 12th one back home!!

Truth is, this was never meant to happen. She was never meant to happen. The plan was simple, go to college, earn a degree you weren’t even sure you loved, find a nice husband along the way, and settle down by 26. A life laid out in careful steps, a future stitched together by your mother’s thread and needle.

But Paige Bueckers, point guard for The Dallas Wings, was never part of the blueprint.

And yet, here she is. Half-draped across your body, skin warm against yours, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm. Her breath is soft against your neck, whispering promises that feel like lullabies, like confessions, like something dangerously close to forever.

And you, caught between the life you planned and the one unfolding right in front of you, don’t know whether to hold on or let go.

“Promise me you’ll leave him,” I whisper, my lips trailing down the curve of her jaw, grazing the delicate skin beneath her ear, descending toward the hollow of her collarbone where her breath stutters.

Silence.

“Promise me, Pia,” I say again, the words trembling between desperation and demand.

Her breath catches. Then, finally, through a shiver that sounds like surrender, she whispers,“I promise.” Her voice is a threadbare thing, trembling and unconvincing, but it pulls me in anyway.

I rise to meet her gaze, searching for truth in the depths of her eyes. They’re are glassy, deep pools of something I can’t quite name. Longing? Guilt? Deception? I don’t know, But the truth hides from me. I want to believe her God, I want to believe her. That this time, she’ll choose not just me, but herself. That this time, she’ll finally break free.

“What?”

“Tomorrow morning. You’ll leave him,” I say. The words come out firmer than I intended, more demand than plea.

No question in it. just a quiet ultimatum.

Her expression flickers, something unreadable passing over her face. And then silence again.

She starting at me now her eyes narrowing like I’m the one who’s lost my mind, like I’m the one slipping. Maybe I am.

“I will,” she says, and pulls me back into her mouth like a drowning woman clutching air.

Her lips are feverish against mine, igniting something reckless and raw in me. I know she’s lying. Of course she’s lying. But I’m too far gone, too tangled in her spell to care. I hate how easily I fall for her again and again, crawling back to her like a dog who doesn’t know better.

She’s unbuttoning my shirt now, her fingers deliberate and maddeningly slow. Her lips travel downward, planting delicate, burning kisses along my stomach, her touch a fire that consumes me.

I’m kissing her abs slow, reverent, like each press of my lips might absolve me. But it doesn’t. The knot tightens in my stomach, familiar and bitter, like a warning I’ve learned to ignore. That sick ache of knowing I can’t leave him. Not now. Not ever.

What am I doing?

Another empty promise slips from my mouth, like all the others. I said the same thing four years ago. Then again two years later. Each time with the same trembling voice. Each time with the same lie. And still, she takes me back.

Now she’s watching me, eyes wide open, seeing through every brittle mask I wear. She knows I’m full of shit. But she stays anyway. God, why does she always stay?

I move up, my lips tracing a path along her ribs, then her chest, until I’m hovering above her, so close to kissing her again. But something guilt or clarity or fear stops me. My body stills. My breath catches.

I shouldn’t do this.

I’m a married woman. I’ve made vows, signed papers, built a life with another. What am I doing here, on top of her, heart pounding like I’m nineteen and reckless again?

“Stop thinking about him,” Paige says, her voice soft, firm, desperate.

“I’m right here. Just stop. Please, let go, Pia.”

Let go.

I shouldn’t.

But I do.

My forehead falls against hers. Her hands cradle my face like I’m something fragile, worth protecting. Her thumb brushes my cheek slow, loving and then she leans back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“It’s just me and you,” she whispers. “Tomorrow he’ll be gone. And it’s gonna be me and you. Forever.”

But it’s not going to be. Not really.

Because I’m a liar.

Because I’m a coward.

Because I’m a horrible person wearing a woman’s skin.

But I don’t say any of that.

Her lips are soft, but the kiss is anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Urgent. Like we’re trying to consume the years we lost the years I wasted. She pulls me down onto her, fingers already tangled in the hem of my shirt. She lifts it, peeling it over my head like she’s done a hundred times before, like second nature.

"You feel so fucking good," she murmurs, breath hot against my neck as she kisses the curve where it meets my shoulder. Her hands are everywhere my waist, my hips, my back—like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.

Her lips press against my skin, and I can feel the weight of her presence, possessive and commanding. She sits up, straddling my waist, her body flushed and glowing in the low light. Her hair is a mess, her lips swollen, eyes heavy with want. She looks like sin and salvation all at once, and I can’t look away.

Her hands roam over me, tracing the curve of my body with deliberate slowness, like she’s trying to memorize every inch of me, like I might vanish if she doesn’t hold me tight enough.

Her eyes glimmer dark, knowing, like she can see all my secrets, like she knows exactly what she wants. And right now, that’s me.

"Tell me. Does he know what to do with you? Does he know what makes you feel good?" she whispers, her voice a velvet threat.

I can’t lie to her. I can’t look away from those eyes, burning with jealousy and lust, wanting me in a way I haven’t seen in years. Her touch is electric, a sharp contrast to the dull, distant touch of him.

"Not like you," I breathe, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

And then, without warning, she flips me onto my back effortlessly, her hands sliding down my sides as she pins me beneath her. There’s something in the way she looks at me possessive, confident. I can see the hunger, but also the satisfaction. She’s always wanted this control power, and me, completely at her mercy.

"You always were such a fucking tease," she murmurs, her lips curling into a smirk as she hovers above me. "I've been waiting for this, you know. For you to finally get out of your head long enough to give in."

I bite my lip, the tension thick between us, and my heart races with anticipation. Paige isn’t gentle—she never has been. And that’s exactly why I’ve never been able to walk away. She knows me too well. She knows how to make me lose myself.

She leans down, pressing a kiss to the hollow of my throat, then another lower, over my collarbone. Her teeth graze my skin, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. reminding me who really owns me. I gasp, hands reaching for her, but she swats them away, pinning them to the bed with one strong hand.

"No, no touching," she commands, her voice thick with authority. "Not unless I say so."

I moan softly in protest, but it’s more out of frustration than anything. I want to touch her. I want to feel the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips, but she’s not giving me that. Not yet.

"Shh, just relax," she coos, her breath hot against my ear. "Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good like he never has."

She moves lower, her body following the curve of mine as her tongue flicks out, warm and slow, trailing kisses across my chest. When her lips wrap around my nipple, I gasp—a sharp, involuntary sound that makes her hum against me.

Her fingers slide down my stomach, so slow, so deliberate that I’m practically aching from the anticipation. She looks up at me, eyes gleaming, a cocky smirk tugging at her lips.

"I’m gonna make you scream my name, Pia," she says, her voice low, daring. "And you’re gonna love it."

I shiver, my pulse quickening as she slides down further, her hands brushing against my thighs, her lips leaving a trail of fire behind them. I’m helpless beneath her, body already responding to her every movement. When she finally reaches between my legs, she doesn’t hesitate. She slips two fingers inside me, pushing in with smooth, relentless precision.

"Paige..." I gasp, a sharp cry escaping my lips.

Paige doesn’t waste any time. She starts to move her fingers in and out of me, deep and slow at first, letting the pleasure build. My hips instinctively lift to meet her, but she pulls back, her grip on my waist tightening to hold me still.

"Not so fast," she warns, her tone mocking, filled with dark satisfaction. "Remember how long you left me hanging?"

I whimper, my body aching for more, but she just smirks, knowing exactly how to torture me. She continues her slow pace, fingers curling inside me, hitting that spot that makes my whole body tremble. The pleasure starts to build, but she’s taking her sweet time, pushing me to the edge but not letting me fall.

She chuckles darkly, her thumb circling my clit with a wickedly slow, teasing rhythm.

"Please what?" she taunts, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Tell me what you want, Pia."

"Faster," I beg, my voice breathless, desperate. "I need you to... oh god, please—"

"Need me to what?" she presses, her fingers quickening now, but not enough to let me unravel just yet. "Use your words, baby."

"Please..." I beg again, my voice a whisper, desperate and needy. "Paige, please, faster."

"Make me come, Paige. Please..." My plea breaks in half, the words coming out in a fractured rush.

Her eyes lock onto mine, her smirk never fading. "That’s my girl."

My girl

Her pace quickens, fingers thrusting deeper, her thumb never ceasing its rhythm on my clit. She’s relentless, her pace unyielding, pushing me closer to the edge with every stroke. I can't hold back anymore. My back arches off the bed, and my body trembles violently as the orgasm hits me hard. Waves of pleasure crash over me, pulling the air from my lungs and making me gasp.

"Fuck!" I cry out, my hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white. "Paige..."

She doesn’t stop. Even as I tremble beneath her, she keeps going, prolonging my orgasm, pulling every last bit of pleasure out of me until I’m gasping for air, my body convulsing beneath her.

When she finally slows down, she watches me with satisfaction, a smug grin curling at her lips.

"Told you I could make you scream."

I’m left breathless, skin still tingling, my mind barely able to catch up with the aftermath of what just happened. Paige leans down, kissing me deeply, almost possessively, as if claiming me all over again. Her hands are on my hips, her body pressed against mine, and I can feel how much control she has over me how much she loves it.

"I can’t believe he gets to see you like this," she whispers, her voice thick with lust and satisfaction. "Fuck pia Do you know how insane that makes me?”

"I’m not done with you," she adds, her voice still low, laden with desire. "Not even close."

[glitterjay]

— spelling

⭒ head (f. receiving), club, mention of alcohol, afab!reader, strangers, suggestive content mdni!

⭒ c's note: i apologize for not continuing lover boy or enemies to lovers, i haven't had the creativity to continue the stories :( take this drabble as my apology

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @jaylaxies @americanojake

reblogs help me a lot and are very much appreciated!

you frowned when the waiter placed a drink in front of you. to be completely honest, you didnt feel like drinking at all, going to the club to simply keep your mind off your hectic life. when he saw your confused expression, he pointed to a guy sitting a few seats away from you, saying it was on him.

it took the stranger some time to approach you, noticing you hadn’t touched your drink at all. “i don’t blame you,” he spoke, taking the empty chair next to you. “it’s a harsh world. i wouldn’t trust a random drink either.”

you laughed slightly, still playing with the straw that came with the cup. "why bother, then?" "it was worth a shot."

he had introduced himself as heeseung. he said he was there because his friends had dragged him along but had left him alone for some hookups. he was a nice guy and incredibly handsome. the black button-down that he was wearing made his jaw look sharper and also helped the lights to glow on his face.

he caught you staring as you both talked, but he wouldn't admit it. in fact, he liked it when you lost your senses while staring right at his lips and apologizing for not hearing what he was saying. he knew he was handsome.

he had to admit you were quite stunning yourself. the dress you were wearing only added to your beautiful appearance. he was a gentleman about it, sneaking compliments here and there. if you were completely honest, the nice words were boosting your ego.

"say, heeseung, your friends are here to hook up, but i don't see you trying to find someone."

"oh, i did. it's up to her if she want to hook up or not."

-

and that's how you ended up guiding heeseung and his car to your house. it took him five seconds to have your back against the wall as he stared you down with hungry eyes.

you were fast to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling his lips to yours to close the gap. he tasted like gum mixed with alcohol. your lips, on the other hand, tasted like the watermelon lip gloss you were wearing.

-

everything got heated in a matter of minutes. you had dragged heeseung to your room, where he invited you to sit on his face. he was pretty straight forward, which made you blush furiously, but it made him giggle.

"put all your weight down."

"what if i suffocate you?"

heeseung grabbed your thighs and pushed them down, forcing you to sit directly on his face. one of your hands went directly to the headboard of your bed for support as the other pulled on heeseung's hair.

he was experienced, tongue moving deliciously around every corner of your core, tasting all of you. his strong arms rocked your hips back and forth, making your clit hit his nose. you were in heaven.

the way he was licking your folds had you seeing stars already, but the way he was moving was quite familiar. You realized every lick was tracing something, like a letter.

H E E S E U N G, he spelled.

it drove you crazy thinking how he was somehow marking his name on you. you rocked your hips faster along his face, feeling the knot on your stomach tighten. heeseung noticed you were close by the way your walls clenched around his tongue fucking you.

his right hand reached your clit, rubbing fast circles. your thighs closed on his head, almost suffocating him. you tried to get up, but his arms were holding you still. you started to doubt if heeseung was even breathing at this point.

every thought was long gone when you reached your orgasm, letting your juices free all over his face. it was then when heeseung loosened his grip on your thighs and you were able to get off him, plopping right next to his body.

"already tired? baby, im not even done yet."

© glitterjay | tumblr

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] Kinktober Day 5: "Double Penetration"

Summary: A rather spicy edition of Solarian Chronicles becomes more after you suggest you want to apply what the characters are doing to real life.

Warning(s): Threesome, Spit-roasting, Deep-throating, General filth that's expected out of Kinktober tbh.

Side Note(s): At this rate, I'm gonna aim to write a damn smut book man. I'm pumping out these fics like it's nothin'. 💀

Also, this prompt is loosely followed. I mostly wanted a reason to write spit-roasting 😔

Slight Edit: Anon told me that I spelled Sebastian’s name wrong and- the amount of times I spelled his name with a DAMN O. Y’all— you saw nothing (now to check if my other fics have this case of me spelling his name with an o-)

"Why don't we make this reality~?"

Those were the words that led you to ending up in your current predicament. You, naked on the floor and currently being spit-roasted between sucking Sebastion's cock whilst Sam fucked into you as if he were afraid you were suddenly going to disappear, all the while he whispered the most heinous words into your ear with such sinful whines to add on top of it!

Should you have been more embarrassed to suggest having sex after a particularly spicy round of Solarion Chronicles? Mayyybeee. But were you?

Definitely not.

. . .

A needy whine left Sam's lips, his breath washing over your ear as his arms were currently wrapped around your torso, his hips slamming against your ass desperately. "F-Fuck man...we shoulda did this sooner," He moaned. You moaned around Sebastian's cock when Sam suddenly rubbed against a spongey spot along with your inner walls, the reverberation of your moan on his cock making Sebastion hiss in pleasure as his grip on your hair tightened.

"Yoba...fuck, keep fucking her like that...she seems to like what you were doing."

"Oh?" Sam said teasingly. "You mean...here."

Another moan left your kiss-swollen lips, a creamy white ring beginning to form around Sam's cock as he lightly bit the shell of your ear before leaning back to admire what he was doing to you. "You're right Seb, she seems to realllyyy like it." He panted. His hand then came to part your pussy lips farther apart, a gasp choking up in your throat as you could feel the blue-eyed blonde twitch inside of you.

You whined when Sam's hands then came to grip your waist, fucking harder into you as his balls slapped against your overstimulated clit from the effort. Slowly, you felt your orgasm begin to creep up on you, but...with how blurry your vision was and the combined pleasure of the two men using you. You weren't sure if you would even be able to handle such an intense orgasm.

"Fuck—" Sebastian gasped as his hand shakily released its grip upon your hair to trail down to cup the side of your cheek, an infatuated look hiding just behind his obvious lust for you. You struggled to look up at him through your tears, yet despite your rapid blinking, the sight of the obvious blush of embarrassment on his face made it all the more worth it. Behind you, Sam groaned at the scene before him. "S-So pretty..." Sebastian whispered.

"Right?" Sam agreed. "Should've fucked 'er sooner...with a pussy this tight, this needy...we gotta do this every time we come over for Solarion Chronicles, eh Sebastion?" Wordlessly, Sebastian nodded his head as he felt his orgasm begin to approach, his dick twitching inside of your throat, making you cough around him.

Concerned, Sebastian quickly pulled you off his cock much to your disappointment. "I...I'm fine..." You said with a dazed grin.

"S-Shit...you like it really rough don't you farmer?" Sam moaned as his torso came to rest against your back once more, his larger hands placing themselves on your own as he rolled his hips into you with even more urgency. You clenched at the sound of Sam's whines and pleas for you to allow him cum inside, the nastiness of it all combined with Sebastian stroking his dripping cock to the scene before you only causing that knot in the pit of your gut to tighten even more. The groan that left Sebastian's lips, his body jerking along with his movements sent a strike of electricity into your body, threatening to push you over the edge before Sam suddenly began to pleasure and flick your clit.

The scream you let out, it was sure to wake the entire house.

"D-Don't be so loud—" Sebastian couldn't even finish his own sentence, a moan tearing from his lips. Sam smirked at the sight, his ministrations increasing in frequency as pleasure-filled tears brimmed your eyeline and began to fall.

"Don't tell her to hold back her moans." He playfully scolded his friend. "N-Not until I get her to cum around my dick that is..." He placed a sloppy kiss on the side of your face. "Cum all over my cock...been fuckin' my hand to the thought of this since the day you—Fuck—got here..." Sam cooed at you, his fingers beginning to pinch and lightly tug at your aching clit in addition to rubbing it. As your orgasm came closer and closer, your slick began to squirt out of you in tune to Sam's thrusts and drip down his thighs, your whines became higher and higher in pitch before your mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Oh fuck..." Sebastian groaned at the sight before he threw his head back with a moan, his cum hitting your tongue and painting your face.

Shudders of overstimulation racked over your body as Sam continued to fuck you like his life depended on it. "S-Sam..." You whispered. "F-Feels too good—Ah!"

"S-Sorry..." He whispered. "A-Almost—almost there—" The rest of his sentence was caught in his throat as he suddenly stilled and pressed his pelvis as close to your ass as he possibly could. Your insides warming as his cum painted your insides white, Sam's body beginning to relax and weaken before he pulled his softening cock out of your hole. A moan left his lips as he watched your combined orgasms ooze from your hole, he was tempted to lick you clean but...with the way you looked as if you were seconds away from collapsing, he figured he would wait another day for the opportunity to arise.

"Holy shit," Sebastian panted, wiping his cum-stained hand on his pants before he ran his hand through his hair, getting the stray hairs out from his vision.

"You said it..." Sam said as he pulled your body to his own. You cuddled closer to the blonde, content as you giggled to yourself.

"Do you...do you guys wanna do this again sometime next week?" You suggested, suddenly becoming shy with your request. However, the two men couldn't nod their heads fast enough. This was definitely going to become a regular thing for all of you.

[edgeray]

*vibrates*

So many wips… 👀

Ok so. IDK. I have. So many “want to sees”. So I’m just gonna list them 🤷‍♀️

Ghost Clervie AU. I’m imagining Clervie watching as Peruere- sorry, *Arlecchino* develops her “cold, strict, and unfeeling Father persona”. But she quickly reverts back to Peruere in the presence of Clervie when Arle figures out she isn’t hallucinating and this isn’t some scheme of someone trying to throw her off balance.

(I’m actually just realizing the parallels of Furina making her Archon persona and Peruere with her Father persona 🤔 Both masks are there in order to better protect the people that rely on them (Fontaine’s citizens and the Hearths Children respectively)). Anyways.

Isekai-ed Arlecchino. I’m just wondering at how that would work and how serious you would make the writing take itself. Like would it be crack, crack that takes itself serious, or serious? (You don’t need to answer that. I was just pondering)

Modern Cat or Bunny Shifter Arle. Arle in her animal form has a nearly 100% coat with the exception of one ear that’s black. It’s cute. Also, I see her as a bunny with floppy ears that are so long that she trips over them XD I’m giggling at the thought she might even be one of those massive bunny breeds too. This makes me wonder if the House exists and whether or not the rest are also shapeshifters. Like a haven for shapeshifters, if you will.

Pirate Arle. You know (you don’t, but I’m telling you 😅) I’m a sucker for enemies(who actually aren’t all that bad) taking in and caring for an abandoned enemy.

Historical Goddess Arle. I think the fact that Reader prays for a painless death rather than no death at all could be intriguing to Arle who probably regularly gets prayers from people not wanting to die?

Spiderwoman Arle. It’s not a want, it’s a need. I’m also a sucker for secret identity relationships. 

Arlecchino w/ Cursed Bio Child.

Alien Arle and Human Reader. Arle and Clervie internally seething at getting another runaway test subject (not at the human, at the fact they were experimented on). That(the facility) would need to be taken care of… (badass ArlexClervie couple who are leaders of an organization who take down illegal trafficking rings, experiment facilities, etc? 👀) Once the newcomer gets adjusted to their new home, of course.

Arlecchino x Alive/Knave Clervie.

Sorry if any of that/the extra commentary seems like I’m trying to press for any of this. Yeah, these are requests. If that’s ok 🙂

👉👈 Hopefully it isn’t overwhelming.

The Other End of the Blade

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon, sorry for being late with this anon! I really love your commentary on all of your (mine?) ideas so don’t worry about it! I’ll put more of a response at the end of this.  This one is going to be pirate AU because I too crave some enemies to lovers right now. One piece is the only basis I have for pirates so apologies if it's not alike to other pirate media.    Those of you wondering where this list of ideas come from, it’s from my ideas/wip post, where I store all of the silly little ideas for fanfics. Feel free to request from anything on that list.

Content warnings / info - enemies to lovers, semi-graphic violence, heavily one piece inspired, got WAY too invested into this whoops, 4.0k words

Before you could read books, you could read wanted posters. Before you could spell out your name, you could write down ‘pirate’ and ‘wanted dead or alive.’ Before you could write, you throw a mean punch. Before you knew how to play, you knew how to fight. And before you knew how to count your fingers, you could tie knots. Before you knew what a Marine was, you already were one. And before you knew what ‘love’ means, you knew what hate was and who to hate: pirates. Hatred towards them coursed alongside your blood through your veins. 

Pirates are the scum of the seas, raiders from the depths of the oceans that have come to pillage towns and wreak havoc over the prospering empires. They’re sick people who only know how to steal and how to kill. They rob lives without an ounce of hesitance, ignorant to the misery and suffering they force upon people because of their actions. The world would be better off without them. That way, all people can live in peace without worry from murderers and pillagers like them. Pirates are everything you should hate and you swear that you're going to make it so not one person has to be afraid of their shores–they'll never have to look at the horizon wondering if they see pirate ships in the distance cruising towards them. 

If there is one thing that your family has instilled into you, it would be that a world free of suffering is a world free of pirates. Like every other family member before you, you've been set on the path of greatness that is to eradicate every one of those vermin since birth. The only aspiration you could have is rising the ranks of the Marines. Generations of your family served in the Marine, holding the highest positions. Being anything short of one of the admiral positions, (the lowest of which ranking fourth highest in authority) is a disgrace, a stain on your one of the most prominent Marine families. 

Rising towards the ranks was no difficulty for you. It's only about two years since you've joined the Marines, and you've already risen to a commander position. For reference, even the best of soldiers take four to five years to be promoted to that level. And you know you're about to be promoted–you just need one big case. Just capture one famous pirate, and you know that the Captain rank is yours. One more step closer to cementing your place among the greats of your family. 

– 

Water pelts across your face and the strong sea breeze whips around you. Over your own thumping heart, you can hear the roaring of raging waves paired with the wild flapping of the sails and the creaking of wood. Thudding footsteps rushes all around you, and the clouded sky flashes, thundering. 

“Lower the sails!” You scream at the men as they wrestle with the ropes. Seeing one of the men fumble, you grumble under your breath and shove him away to take over. 

“Get a bucket, and keep getting rid of the water. We need as little water to get into the hull as possible,” you command him, and that's enough to make him useful. 

“Pirate ship spotted!” One of the crew members states and you groan in frustration. A pirate ship at this time? You're only just barely ensuring the vessel does not capsize! Not only is the Marine ship struggling, but no doubt the pirate ship would be too. You release the ropes, seeking out the captain. 

“Captain!” You yell as you head towards him. The cranky man shoots you a snooty glare before turning to a Marine soldier besides him. 

“Hurry up! What flag is it?! Huh? Huh?! Give me a damn answer before I throw you overboard!” Your captain gruffly exclaims at the poor Marine who was holding a spyglass, pointing it towards the oncoming ship. You cringe at the Captain's voice, silently giving sentiments to the other Marine. 

“It's a… um… it.. um…” The Marine stutters, unsure of what to make of the flag. You grind your teeth before wrenching it out of his hands and examining the flag yourself with squinted eyes. In between  heavy rain and dark surroundings, you can just barely recognize the flag: a hand grasping a candle. 

Damn it! At this time?! 

“It's the Hearth pirates!” You announce, tossing the scope to your Captain to see. 

“The Hearth? You mean one of the Harbinger crews?!” The old man grunts before seeing for himself. His facial features morph into one of disbelief before hardening. 

“I want every cannon manned now! Get your weapons ready and drawn! All hands on deck!” The Captain demands. The confusion and disbelief was practically palpable among the Marines, and felt through their second of hesitation before the soldiers’ replied with a ‘yes Captain.’

Is he crazy? What the hell is wrong with him? As much as you would love to capture the notorious Hearth pirates, you knew now was nothing but an imprudent time. Even if the Hearth was among the less deadly of the Harbinger crews, that did not make them any less powerful. You have heard from other Marines’ hushed whispers that it takes at least a large fleet (5 Marine ships) to take down one entire Harbinger ship, and even that was theoretical. The Fatui pirates as a whole are damn near unstoppable, but the Harbingers themselves are monsters ripped from hell. As much as you hate to admit, you’re not strong enough to defeat a Harbinger, and you have similar doubts for your Captain. Where does he get this pomposity from?

The other men are struggling enough to keep this piece of wood afloat, and now they have to worry about battling pirates? You doubt even the Hearth is eager for a fight. Fighting in this storm would only lead to early graves for both sides. Winning against and capturing the Hearth pirates is unfavorable, but surviving past this storm is indisputable. 

“Wait, Captain!” You call out to him. An annoyed click of his tongue comes from him, as if you were the bother, and it only makes you clench your hands into fists. He turns his back towards you, irritation written all over his expression. 

“What are you standing around for? Get ready already!” He demands with a scrunched face. 

“We can't engage in battle with them yet! We don’t have enough men, and we're already struggling with the storm!” You protest. “We're in no condition to try and fight them!”

Silence. Around you, you hear whispers from the other crewmates, sounds of agreement coming from them. Evidently, this increases the captain's indignation. 

“Quiet!” He screams. “If we're struggling, just think about how they could be faring! They don't have nearly enough resources as us marines do to survive! This is our chance to capture one of the Harbinger crews!

“After all,” he pauses to give you a pointed, haughty look. “We have one of the members of the greatest family? We won't lose with you on our side, right? We're in your hands.”

You bristle, your nails digging into your palm as your lips twitch into a deeper frown. To think he would use your family name against you. What is he even trying to do? You're too stunned to respond and he brushes past you. 

You're absolutely powerless to do anything, and so are the other soldiers on this ship. No one here outranks the Captain. No matter how correct you may be, you would be punished for disobeying a superior's order. If only you could have been promoted earlier, then you wouldn't have to listen to this fool. Had it been you, you would have this ship steered towards the closest Marine base and report what direction the Hearth pirates are going. But you can't do that. You nod pathetically, and the rest of the men disperse. 

You can only watch as the smaller ship approaches closer and closer. As soon as Hearth pirates enter within the firing range, chaos ensues with your Captain's bellowed “FIRE!” 

A cacophony of screams and cannon fire sound through the air, deafening you, and the overpowering smell of gunpowder and brine swarm your nostrils. Like all naval battles, it’s always a blur–just a flash of colors and movements. At some point, the pirate ship approached close enough for them to board onto the Marine ship. You are not aware of this until you find yourself face to face with one of the Hearth pirates. By then, all rationale has been thrown out in favor of instinct–the most precise, miniscule reaction is what keeps you alive the most when it comes to battling pirates. Your surroundings fade from your awareness, your only attention on the figure before you.

She’s a young pirate, that you can tell, but her skills are no less admirable. She has an ever passive, unreadable face that makes predicting her movements hard to discern and even harder to catch off guard. You narrowly dodge another slash of her saber, and your cutlass swishes through the air, only shallowly cutting her sleeve. Despite this, she is far from deterred, and you have to parry another swing. The steel of the blades screeches as your blades clash against each other. Now at a temporary standstill, the both of you exchange eye contact for a brief moment. Lilac eyes, brimming with determination, skirts away from yours. She pulls away only to lunge again, a thrust of her blade heading towards you abdomen but you dodge, side-stepping it. The blade skims just past you, embedding into the wood of one of the masts. Realizing the given opportunity, you give a swift kick to the pirate’s stomach, disconnecting her hand from the handle of her sword. She tumbles onto the ground with a grunt, and you use no time to close the distance. 

Just as you are about to deliver another blow, a loud gunshot sounds through, making you flinch. A sharp pain erupts from your left shoulder and you stumble back from the young pirate. You cock your head, peering behind you. This action allows you to narrowly miss two oncoming daggers, though your cheek and neck get nicked. Spinning on your heel, you face the dagger wielding pirate fully. He’s a young boy, with a top hat and matching eyes of the saber user. Siblings, perhaps? The fierceness in his eyes confirms your suspicions. 

You charge at the boy, but before reaching him, a large wave crashes into the boat, water spilling overboard and throwing you off balance. The sudden impact makes you lose your balance, and you’re hurtled towards the railings of the ship, your back slamming into it. An audible crack emits from the collision and your spine screams out in agony. Lifting yourself into a crawling position, you glance up at the havoc over the deck. 

A bit close to you is your captain, fighting against a white-haired woman. Given the striking polearm she wields, that must be the Knave, one of the eleven Harbingers of the Fatui pirates. Her movements are graceful, every thrust and slash calculated and precise. In contrast, your captain’s movements are botched, desperate. Every output of effort from him is just for another instance of him scraping by with his life. Each parry with his saber leaves his arms trembling. He is a bumbling mess compared to the Knave. Easily, you can tell it’s a losing battle for your captain. He’s outclassed. 

You’re about to rise when a flicker of bright light catches your gaze. Your eyes widen as you turn your head to spot a bright orange mass covering a part of the deck, and it only grows the longer you gaze at it. The flames stalk towards you with a terrifying space. Despite your body’s protest, you beckon your body to stand. When you have both feet on the wooden planks, you head towards your captain to assist him in his battle. Abruptly, the Marine ship shakes, another current assaulting its side. Swept off your feet, your body is flung, your lower abdomen hitting the top of the railings while you roll off of the ship. It’s only by sheer luck that your hand catches the base of the railing, holding onto it with all the strength you could muster in your left arm. The rest of your body hangs over the ever-swallowing sea. 

Your grasp is slipping because of the rain. You grunt as you try to lift yourself with just one arm. Opening your mouth, you clench your teeth onto the spine of your cutlass, freeing up your right arm to grip onto the base of another fence. With much effort, you’re able to heave your head up so that your eyesight is just over the floor. You can spot the familiar boots of the captain. Every muscle in your arm is straining, burning painfully. Holding on for much longer is impossible.

The cutlass has to go. You let the weapon fall from your mouth, and it plunges into the waters below. 

“Captain! Captain!” The guttural outcry comes from your lips. There’s the groaning of wood breaking. A large shadow looms over you, and you lift your gaze. The mast above tilts down, forewarning its collapse on top of you. 

“CAPTAIN!” You scream out, no longer having the strength to lift your head above the deck. You dangle helplessly, your grip slacking with each second. 

You hear thumping footsteps towards you, and you have never been more grateful to see the unsightliness of your captain’s face peering over the railings. 

For a moment, he does nothing, viewing your vulnerable state. His lips twitch, a small smile stretches over his face. He turns away briefly, glancing in both the right and left direction, before focusing on you again. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that they know you fought honorably,” he says, venom in his voice. “So go ahead and let go.”

Your blood freezes, and his face disappears. Your arms can no longer continue and you let up. 

You fall, plunging into the icy cold waters. The iciness does not just seep into your blood, but your muscles and tendons too, making your body heavy. Air is stolen away from you and you flail and kick to the surface for air. Everything hurts. As you sputter for oxygen, coughing out the saltwater, your vision catches the glimpse of a long brown mass toppling down onto you. It’s the last thing you see when something hits the back of your head, and everything fades into an inky abyss. 

—

Everything hurts. It's the first thing that comes to you when you are able to grasp even a bit of consciousness. You feel it in your limbs, your back, your abdomen, essentially anything above your waist has a stabbing sensation in it. A groan, followed by a deep suction of air, emerges from you, and you lift your head up. Your eyes flutter open, bright light stabbing into your eyes. You let out a pained groan, rolling your neck to ease its discomfort but find it unhelpful. 

Your eyes adjust to the orange glow of your surroundings. You blink several times to relieve the blurriness in your vision, able to see more clearly. Given the rocking motion and the familiar sound of waves crashing, you would reckon you're on a ship. Looking down at yourself, you're seated on a chair. You attempt to sit up, only to find yourself unable to. Rope digs into the skin of your bound wrists, and you let out a string of expletives in a single defeated sigh. 

“Did you learn that tongue from the Marines?” A cutthroat voice resounds through the room. 

You dip your head, turning towards the figure. A tall woman leans against the wall in the corner, a good bit of distance away. White and black strands, charcoal hands, crimson crossed-pupils, and the epitome of beauty and refinement that marks the appearance of the Knave. Strange to find that among pirates, of all brutish people. Your hazy mind clears in an instant, and you sit up straighter. The pirate captain's presence brings about your most recent memories onto the forefront of your mind in short bursts. With a forceful swallow, you recognize that you have been captured by the Hearth pirates. If you're alive rather than dead, that means they have some use for you. Whatever it is, you need to escape from this. You can only do that when you fish for enough information. 

Taking in your surroundings, you'd have to guess you're in some storage room. Stacked barrels make up the majority of the room. Perhaps if you're able to access the contents of the barrels, you can use them to escape. If not, you could easily ruin their supplies, including food and water. 

“I just thought communicating would be easier in your language,” you snark back, observing the Harbinger's reaction. Expectedly, she remains inexpressive, revealing nothing. She leans away from the wall, stalking towards you. Heels click against the floorboards. Only pirates would have the audacity to be wearing such compromising shoes out on the sea. 

She stands before you, unmoving, her piercing gaze smiliarly fixated on your form. When nothing comes from her lips, you make conversation first.

“Admiring me?” 

This earns a humorless chuckle. “There's nothing to admire.” 

Ow. 

A frown comes across your face. Acting coy does not work on pirates like the Knave. The Knave seems like someone who only responds to directness. No use in stalling. 

“What happened to my crew?”

“They were alive when we left them.” 

“And are they still alive?”

“Presumably.” 

You grit your teeth, lunging at her in anger. Your bounds don't allow for much movement, and it only makes your chair screech across the floor boards towards the pirate. “You left them in the middle of the storm with a ruined ship! You killed them!” 

“You were the fools that decided to attack us.”

“You would have attacked us first! You scum aren't above anything! How can I even trust your word? How do I not know you're not lying to my face?! How do I know you haven't slaughtered them all?!” You scream, thrashing against the ropes wildly.  

“I doubt any persuasion could relieve your distrust. I see that any sort of conversation with you will be futile,” the pirate remarks. She spins on her heel, heading towards the door. You're almost tempted to let her if it means the chance of never seeing her face again, until another thought crosses your mind. 

Why did she want some sort of conversation with you?

“Wait.”

The Knave stops in her tracks. “Are you choosing to be civil for once?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Never mind. I can't bear seeing your face again.” 

An audible huff comes from the pirate before she does face back towards. 

“Why did you… why did you keep me alive? Why did you spare me? Why did you…” You pause, recalling back to your last memories. You were knocked unconscious by falling debris, that you were sure of. You should have drowned by all accounts. You doubt your crewmates have saved you–you hate to admit it, but you would have sunk to the seabed before one of them had noticed. Your crewmates would have been too focused on the pirates to have. If it wasn't any one from your party, then that only leaves the opposing party. However, there is no logical reason for them to. You'd sooner accept divine intervention rather than pirates having rescued you. 

The voice in your head, the voice that has been fostered since your childhood, tells you that it is neither of those two, just a sick sense of karma. Pirates aren't capable of any good doing. If they've kept you alive, it's because they intend to hurt you even more. They're inhuman monsters who only know how to steal and steal, until nothing of you is left. Wretched people that shouldn't even have the luxury of being labeled as ‘humans.’ 

“Why am I here?” You finally settle on those words. 

Silence stretches for a single moment before she begins. “You encountered two of my children, yes?” 

You raise your eyebrows at the mention of ‘children.’ You're aware that some captains likened themselves to a parental figure of their crew–it seems like the Knave is one of those cases. You think back to the young ash blond pirates you briefly fought. 

“The swordswoman and the dagger thrower,” you reply.

“Correct. I found Lyney as a child, when I was wandering the alleys of a shoretown. He bumped into me because he was in a hurry to save his sister from being sold to a high ranking Marine.”

Shock envelopes your face as you process those words. A Marine? Someone whose duty is to protect citizens? A high ranking Marine? Someone whose performance and power is praiseworthy and yet they would do something like that? The thought sickens you. That kind of behavior… that can only pertain to a pirate right? It is not possible for a Marine to act that way. Other Marine officials would have never allowed it. She must be feeding falsehoods to trick you, to get you to betray your family and duty. There's no way this would happen. 

Despite your inner turmoil, Arlecchino continues. “When I took them in, fed them and gave them somewhere to sleep, it took several months for Lyney to sleep in his own quarters. He couldn't be torn away from his sister's quarters. Any chore assigned to him, Lynette had to be beside him. You would have to possess a superhuman strength to separate him from her.”

You could imagine why. Your stomach churns uncomfortably, hating the fact that with every word, her story seems more and more plausible. Why were you even considering this fabricated story? Why were you being swayed by a pirate's tongue?

“Why are you telling me this? You didn't take me to tell your kids’ sob story,” you remark. 

“Every single person on this ship has been dealt an unfortunate hand by the Marines. My children,” she speaks with a hint of indignation, her voice chillingly sincere, “have suffered and wept because of a Marine. Not one of them has ever had a good history with a Marine.” 

She gives you a pointed look, one that makes your blood boil. You hate it, you want to gauge her eyes out because you can see the glint of sympathy in them. “I see now that it's not just people having been harmed by the Marines. But their own people too.” 

“I am not some pitiful stray you found on the street!” You scream, having heard enough of this. “I have not been wronged by-” 

“Your captain abandoned you.” That is all it takes to silence you, and your outburst dies the instant it comes. Any protests on your lips is pummeled away by the heaviness in your chest that forms whenever you think back to that moment. Arms aching, helpless and dangling, and the man you relied upon to lead you and guide you, turns away. He left you, simple as that, to die. Why? You couldn't even fathom a reason. How could a captain do that? After all your service, after all you've done for him, he leaves you.

“You would have died because of a self-serving captain.” 

And you still have the audacity to try and defend him. The Marines are all you know. He was just one man. That did not mean all the Marines were like that. “He was just one man.”

“One man is all it takes. One man is one too many. And if that were true, no one else would be on my ship. I do not believe that all Marines are as revolting as him. Quite the opposite. But there is enough and that's the problem. 

“You may find it hard to believe, but we want to welcome you. If you choose to so stubbornly reject our hospitality and company, we will drop you off at the nearest island so you may return to your duty. But here, we at least know of loyalty and family, I assure you that.” 

The Knave approaches you. You hear the unsheathing of a blade and you feel your wrists relieved from their bounds. You gape at her. 

“Welcome to the House of the Hearth.” 

More A/N: I know this was really long, and not at all romantic, but I got way too invested into the plot of it all to actually focus on the romance. Please someone request a part two because I haven't enjoyed writing a piece this much in a while (i know my inbox is closed for requests but I will make this an exception. This was such a fun piece that really had me invested the entire time while writing. I would love to see Arlecchino's and Reader's relationship develop more. I hope you guys enjoyed this because it's now the longest request I've ever written.

I'm not done yapping, unfortunately. To address anon's commentary. First of all, never be sorry for the commentary. I love yapping, as you may be able to tell. I love hearing your guys' ideas and I think they're all so cool!! (I'm also lonely :v pls talk to me anons).

I love, love, love Arlecchino's character, and I so wish to see it more explored in x Reader fics (I have something like this in the works ehehe) and I totally see the comparison between Furina and Clervie (even though I don't ship Arlefuri).

I've already written Goddess! Arlecchino x Reader! I've linked it in case you haven't seen it before. I'm also working on an Alien! Arlecchino x Human! Reader, so not quite like the Alien AU! Arlevie, but I thought it's something you might be interested. I think that Bunny! Arle would be more like her plush in the Arlecchino animation, but seeing her with floppy ears is such a cute image. With the Isekai AU, I guess it really depends on my mood. (I've also put a different concept for an Arlecchino Isekai-ed AU in the same post), but likely the one mentioned in your asks will have more crack.

I really want to think you for your conideration of my ideas!! It means a lot to me that people actually see them and like can envision it and feel the raw potential for that story like I do. I know it took super long for me to get to this request and it might not even be how you wanted but I hope you like it. <333

Note to future requests: if you guys give me a list of ideas you want me to do (bc you're as indecisive as I am), I can pick one to write :33)

[mentalpolaroids]

Wolf's Home

(Part I)

Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader

Summary: Geralt takes Ciri to Kaer Morhen and reunites not only with his family of witchers, but also with the person that makes him feel at home the most

a/n: this is sort of rewrite of S02E02. Sorry for the use of (y/n) but couldn't really think of a name for the reader. Also, this is my first try at writing for The Witcher so be nice to me please!!

.................................................................................

She woke up that morning expecting to face another routine-repeating day, possibly with an occasional healing of one of the witchers coming back to Kaer Morhen from a hunt, or coming up with a new excuse as to why she didn’t want to eat whatever crap Lambert cooked for them. His turn on food duty was always a dreadful one.

Her days were never too adventurous, not since Vasemir had insisted on a more permanent stay at the keep two years ago, when she was dragged through the Blue Mountains by a silver haired witcher, both injured, after fighting and killing a monster together. An encounter she still couldn’t really understand to this day, how they happened to be in the same place, at the same time, looking for the same creature, but she knew better than to question Destiny. 

Even with her own wounds to take care of, she still healed Geralt of Rivia first, who fell under her natural charm like a trap. He wondered if it was a spell, the way he so easily was put at ease in her presence. She was a mage after all. But as the days passed, he concluded that there was no spell besides the one used to close the gash on his abdomen. That woman was simply a caretaker by heart, one that somehow remained open and pure even knowing of the existence of nasty beings out there in the Continent. Everyone else in the Fortress seemed to be as mesmerized, and so, she was welcomed with open arms to stay, and heal, and fight with the witchers. 

The ropes were starting to burn the palm of her hands from all the knots she had conquered in the last hour, but she definitely didn’t mind because it was at least keeping her hands warm as she stood outside, light snow falling over the already white ground. 

One of the few advantages of the icy weather was that they could hear when someone was approaching, the crunch of the footsteps over the snow being hard to disguise. She heard those in the distance, but it was of a horse. (y/n) dropped the rope and grabbed her sword, preparing herself for the sight of the intruder before making her own known. But, the sight wasn’t at all what she expected. She didn’t know what to expect at all, but it sure wasn’t a familiar brown horse carrying Geralt of Rivia accompanied by a blonde girl, who (y/n) quickly convinced herself must’ve been a princess, if not for her looks, for her posture. She looked like she didn’t belong there, nor next to someone with the nickname The Butcher of Blaviken. 

The girl got down from Roach and looked around curiously. Her dress blended with the snow, from afar, (y/n) wondered if she was even real. Her gaze didn’t last long on the girl when Geralt got down from his horse too, the mere sight of his face barely visible under his dark cloak sent a shiver of excitement to her stomach. He had always had that effect on her, but it seemed the longer she went without seeing him, the stronger the sensation got after meeting again. 

The witcher and the princess shared words (y/n) couldn’t really hear from where she was still in the hiding, and as they started to walk towards the main entrance of the Fortress, the mage put down her sword and walked towards them. 

“You sure we’re safe here?” the princess asked Geralt, who walked in front of her. (y/n) was not close enough to hear the question, not yet to be noticed. 

“Safer than out there.” 

Her voice seemed to echo in the silence of their footsteps coming to a stop, both turning their heads to their right, finally acknowledging her. Geralt’s lips curved into a brief smile, his yellow eyes softening when they locked with hers. (y/n) smiled back, the shiver in her stomach was now climbing to her chest and for a moment she forgot he could probably feel her heart beating faster. Good thing she didn’t mind him knowing how she felt around him. 

Three steps away from coming face to face with the witcher, she slowed her pace, planning to walk past them. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my dearest friend in all the Continent.”

“It’s great to see you.” 

“Oh I’m afraid I was speaking to my best girl here.” (y/n) approached Roach, caressing the horse over her nose and planting a light kiss on her short fur, “But it’s great to see you too, Wolf.” she walked towards him again, for a second forgetting it wasn’t just the two of them there. The way Geralt followed every step of hers, his gaze warm even in the middle of a Winter day. (y/n) opened her arms to him, “Welcome home.”

The man embraced her tightly against him and it felt like getting drowned in memories of his days with her. He had forgotten how much he cherished her affection, and holding her reminded him how nice it was to let his guard down for a brief moment. It all felt like he had never left. 

“I missed you.” he murmured, unrecognizably self-conscious. He surely didn’t enjoy showing this vulnerable side of him, especially in front of someone else.

“I’m sure you did.” (y/n) let go of him, casting him a warm, welcoming smile, before looking to the girl standing behind him, now more curious about the pair’s dynamic than the Fortress, “And who’s this poor thing having to deal with your company?” 

“This is Ciri.” 

“Ciri.” (y/n) tried the name on her lips. She walked towards her with the same welcoming smile, but a different fondness in her eyes, “It’s nice to meet you, Ciri.” she said as she extended her hand to the girl, “I’m (y/n).”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” she spoke softly, clearly wary of meeting a new face, but the shadow of a smiling curve on her lips showed potential trust as she accepted the handshake. After all, the woman was obviously someone dear to Geralt, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so?” (y/n) smirked, hoping the cold outside cooled the warmth spreading across her face. She turned to Geralt, who watched the two girls interact, but the words were directed to Ciri, “I’m sure I have a lot to hear about you, too.” It was a warning to the witcher: an endless night of chatting was to come, questions needed to be answered, stories to be told and his whereabouts to be known. 

As if reading Ciri’s mind, (y/n) squeezed her shoulder and tilted her head towards the entrance, “Don’t worry, you are safe here.” 

“Keep up.” Geralt told the girl, and both followed (y/n). 

They both pushed the heavy wooden doors and walked into the main room of the Fortress that was occupied with chatty men and the smell of burning wood and ale. (y/n)’s words echoing through the wide space caught their attention. 

“Look what the snow dragged in, boys.”

All eyes turned to the mage and the murmur came to a stop when everybody noticed the figure standing behind her. Her attention turned to Geralt as well, in time to see him remove the hood of his cloak and finally getting a decent view of the face she missed so much. She also checked on Ciri, who looked uneasier than before, standing in the middle of a room full of men. (y/n) winked at her, hoping to reassure her everything was alright. Geralt noticed, and he too turned to the girl and nodded at her before moving to stand beside (y/n) as Lambert stood from his seat and walked towards them. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

“We thought you got lost.” Coën followed Lambert, “Or killed.” 

(y/n) rolled her eyes. Geralt smiled tenderly.

“Not yet. Sorry.”  

The mage elbowed his side. She had always hated when he implied the possibility of his death at any moment, considering what he was and he did, in reality it wasn’t a massive impossibility. Still, even a simple joke triggered a non-existent grief that resided in her chest everytime she had to see the witcher leave and go long periods of time without hearing a single word from or about him. In his presence, (y/n) pretended he would stay forever, and if he didn’t stay, he would come back. Everytime. 

Geralt caressed her back and brought her in for the embrace Lambert had already initiated. He then went on greeting and hugging the other witchers and, more than ever, Kaer Morhen felt like a real home. The family was back together. 

“I guess I’m back to being second favorite now that you’re back.” Lambert complained to Geralt, referring to (y/n).

“Who said you were even a favorite in the first place?” 

Geralt laughed. 

“I hope you’ve all been treating her right.”

“We do, but she’s a mean one. Lucky for her, we don’t dislike her cooking.” 

The banter was interrupted by Vasemir, who entered the room already smiling at the sight of the silver haired witcher. 

“Wolf. You’re home.” the elder joined the commotion, “Finally.”

Ciri, still feeling out of place, placed herself visibly between Geralt and (y/n).

“Yeah. I had to make a few stops.” the witcher replied, referring to the princess next to him. 

“He’s home!” 

Once again, the commotion grew around Geralt as they kept celebrating his return. Ciri smiled shyly watching the content interactions.

“Come on,” (y/n) extended her hand for the princess to take, “I’m going to introduce you to everybody.”

When everybody settled enough for the mage to be able to order everyone to be nice to Ciri, the men were somewhat curious about the unexpected guest. The girl seemed less vigilant as she was offered a seat and cup and conversation started flowing as if both her and Geralt had always been there. 

(y/n) stood next to him, a sigh leaving her nostrils as she crossed her arms and discreetly nudged the man’s broad figure. 

“Yeah, I know. I have a lot to tell.”

“Yeah. You do.” 

Geralt looked down at her to meet her eyes and, with a soft motion of his hand, uncrossed her arms. He smiled, in a way she knew he was promising to stay for a while. She couldn’t tell what he thought her eyes were saying, but whatever it was, he felt the need to hold her hand, hidden behind his cloak, caressing the cold skin of her knuckles with his thumb. 

“I’m home.” his hoarse voice, along with the softness of his touch and stare, nearly warmed her up on the spot. 

In the back of her mind, there was a voice telling her he would eventually leave again, but for once, she shut it down. 

.................................................................................

Part II soon!

[dolcecilia]

my hcs for each of the lis in my save

Kylar: Stinky, malnourished, black-haired twink. Wears a lot of clothing with stripes. Has a lot of bandages all over his body due to wounds, both self-inflicted and whatnot. Somewhat of a mullet. A half-mullet if you will. A big ole ahoge sticking outta his head. Really small pupils in contrast to Cecile's big buggy ones. Mostly wears baggy clothing to hide his small form. Winterwear consists of one singular dusty, scruffy black coat. Very defined eyebags and dark circles.

Sydney: Hair is curly and sticks out at the end. Long enough to reach her butt. P!Syd wears it in a low ponytail with a yellow scrunchie. C!Syd has the scrunchie on her wrist. Chubby AND tall. Kinda has a Roze Quartz build from SU if you squint. STRETCH MARKS ON HER ASS, STRETCH MARKS ON HER THIGHS, AND STRETCH MARKS ON HER TUMMY. P!Syd also has eyebags, but C!Syd doesn't. Has some French on dad's side. Wears a lot of knitted stuff.

Whitney: Spikey hair, par for the course. His fringe is over his right eye. Not jock-y enough for me to imagine him with longer hair, so short hair Whit it is. Not buff or whatever, just lean. Piercings. Slightly tanned skin. Voice is real sandy from chainsmoking. Like Kylar, Whit also has small pupils. Favors outerwear. Leather jacket leather jacket leather jacket.

Robin: Soft brown 3b hair. Doesn't braid (as if she can even afford it), just let it flows, but cuts it to underneath her shoulder just a bit. Hair texturee is similar to Cotton Candy Garnet from SU. Plump body shape. Robin's sundress is shaped a bit different from Cecile's sundress. Pastel purple, short bell sleeves, low-cut and high waisted. Clothing almost always have a floral pattern. Queen of tuck.

Alex: Mayor of Butchtropolis here. You know Applejack from MLP? Yeah. Hair is probably shoulder-length but done up in one of those low ponytails that sticks out at the end. Straw in her mouth kinda girl. Freckles. Red-flannel shirt that's tired into a knot near the end and a wife-beater underneath. Jeans are patched every where. Prolly part-Irish.

Avery: My beautiful Desi wife. Has one of those wavy hairstyles that's cut around the shoulders that just screams evil rich MIL(F). Outfit has layers, multiple. Work clothes is a blouse + a jacket she throws on her shoulder connected by a golden chain + a long peplum skirt. Sapphire & silver.

Eden: Facial hair ranges between a beard and stubble, depending on my mood. It's not just a bush, it's the whole fucking rainforest. Three claw marks on his back. Top surgery scars spell out his name if you're high enough. Lots of scars on other places. Inside his ramshackle hunting coat is a sewn-up pocket. Inside the pocket is a letter between him and Bailey from all the way back then.

[angyo]

It's kind of funny seeing people turn around and deploy the same ideas homophobes use against acknowledging canon queer characters against acknowledging that uika is literally, 100% canonically in love with sakiko. I don't think there's only 1 way you should feel about that, whether it's anger or intrigue or anything else it's all an understandable reaction. But they make it VERY clear what uika's feelings are in a way you literally can not deny the romantic aspect of her feelings without tying yourself in the same knots homophobes have against characters like bocchi.

Could it technically maybe be some kind of obsession that both isn't sexual or romantic but still involves uika processing it through the lens of love songs and making a body pillow? Sure it's possible. Just as possible as Magnet being a song about 2 girls commiserating over their feelings for men, or mako asking ryuko out on a date entirely platonically involving romantic imagery only for comedy.

Face it: Bandori did incest, none of the vague amount of plausible deniability they've always used before either. Every argument I see against this fact is just repackaging the arguments homophobes use against us in hopes to deny it. Would there really be any doubt if uika was a boy? Or if they weren't aunt and niece on top of it? Uika didn't crawl around on the floor yelling sakiko's name, I love you's, and obsessing over every aspect of sakiko this episode to deny her feelings. She did that because the writers wanted to make it explicitly clear this reveal isn't to retcon uika's romantic obsession with sakiko, but rather to entirely recontextualize it as even more pathetic and unhealthy than we already knew it was. Even more clearly romantic than ever, to force you to look at her ugliest feelings head on with no room to back away. The format of the episode also forces you to face her head on in making it a monologue from uika to the audience, you cannot look away from uika's ugly feelings when she spells them out so clearly directly to you without looking away from the episode entirely.

Personally, I think it adds a lot of dimension to uika's tragedy and doesn't romanticize it. Just because you're supposed to empathize with uika doesn't mean they're saying she's healthy in these feelings and it should've been obvious her feelings weren't healthy as far back as when she started huffing sakiko's pillow. This is as close to putting a big red circle whenever a character on screen does something bad as you can get without actually doing that.

I do think there's a lot of perspectives you can have about this, being disgusted and turned off the series as a whole also makes sense. We've all got topics we'd rather not see even if addressed well. Maybe you don't think it was addressed well at all and have reasons for that, which is also fine. But we cannot just pretend it's bait, when uika has made her romantic feelings towards sakiko clearer than anything else about her entire backstory. Could the writers still back away from it later? Yeah, anything's possible I guess. But as it stands, they cannot un-bodypillow the oblivionis costume in the futon uika sleeps in to feel closer to sakiko.

[rintoki]

visitors in the night

characters: kafka x dom!fem!reader

cw: use of strap, rough sex, mentions of somnophilia, reader might be like a robot or smth idk what’s going on with them

a/n: i have no clue what i was wafflin on about something about story setting i think i had a headache ok idk also sorry for any spelling / grammar / punctuation mistakes. even though reader is not actually gendered they just have a fem body, can be read as wlw, read it if u want to idk.

“kafka.”

you glanced up at the purple-haired woman from the book you were reading in bed, watching silently as she pushes it to the side, sidling into your lap.

she doesn’t speak a word, her body language telling you enough. the silk robe wrapped loosely around her body brushes against your skin, and out of your periphery you can see it falling to the sides of her thighs, exposing the milky white skin to you—surely all to get you to pay attention to her. but you can’t find it in yourself to entertain it, eyes boring into hers as you waited for her to explain the interruption.

kafka pouts when you seem unfazed by her advances, resting her arms around your shoulders and leaning in a little closer, “come on…”

she all but purrs into your ear, pressing her body against yours in yet another attempt to get a reaction out of you. to be perfectly honest, you weren’t expecting this out the her. sure, at one point, you played with and entertained her, thinking it’d be a one time thing and you’d both move on. but the enigmatic woman has come waltzing back to you just one too many times to be ‘just for fun’, clearly making herself at home in your residence. you sighed, this is going to be a long night.

and on your lap, kafka shivers. the thin material of her robe doing nothing to keep her warm from the cold air, and instead relying on the heat from your body. a jarring contrast from the iciness in your expression, the very same disinterest that first drew her in. with excitement beginning to swirl in her lower belly, kafka readjusts herself, loosening the knot that held her robe together and letting it slip lower on her shoulders.

“kafka,” you repeated, your eyes fall to the side as you reluctantly set down the half-read book to finally pay full attention to the woman on your lap. the sound of her name falling from your lips sent shivers down her spine, her back arching just a little.

“did you need something?”

she smiles; lips curling as her eyes scan over your face, tracing the curve of your jawline before finally resting on the neckline of your dress shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned with a clear view of your cleavage.

“don’t be like that, darling. i think we both know what i need from you,” she sounds almost breathless, her voice low as one hand reaches for the button that struggled to hold your blouse together, the soft cotton stretching tight over your chest. with a soft sigh, you put your hand over hers, effectively stopping any attempt to unbutton your top.

“i don’t believe i received any message from you about what you might need?” you tilted your head to the side, sitting up a little straighter as you slowly brought her hand to your lips, giving it a soft kiss before placing it where it was previously—wrapped around your shoulders.

“i’m sorry, should i have scheduled an appointment with you?”

“that would be ideal…” your voice trails off as you wrapped an arm around her waist, gently laying her on the bed as your other hand supported you. kafka smiles up at you, breathing deeply as your head dips down to kiss her neck, your arm wrapped securely around her waist; your slow, steady movements beginning to drive her mad.

“then i’ll have time to prepare,” you whispered, bringing your hand from around her waist to cup her breast, massaging it through the silk robe. you hear a soft sigh from the woman, her chest pushing against your hand as you thumb brushed over her nipple.

your lips traveled down her collarbone, pushing one side of the robe aside as you beginning to kiss around her breast, purposefully avoiding her sensitive bud that you know she likes to be touched. kafka’s breath quickens, feeling her back muscles tensed as you tease around it, her grip on your shirt tightening.

“prepare?” her voice was beginning to sound strained, breathing unevenly as you continued to kiss around her breast, everywhere except where she wants to feel your mouth the most, meanwhile the other side was left neglected and aching. kafka presses her head back into the mattress, her body begging for more but not wanting to push you for it. had it been anyone else, she might have just forced them into what she wants, take over their will to do her bidding. but for reasons unknown, that doesn’t work with you. which then begs the question of why she keeps coming back to you knowing you’d tease her like this. she doesn’t quite want to think about that yet, though, instead focusing on your hand that pushes apart her legs, fingers tracing along her thighs.

“to fuck you, of course.”

—

at this point, kafka wasn’t really sure how long it’s been, her hands gripping the soft sheets as you left get your strap. it actually hasn’t been that long yet, perhaps maybe a half hour had passed since she first sat on your lap. but in her lust-fuelled mind, it felt like hours considering you have yet to fuck her like promised.

instead, you spent the time kissing and caressing her body, massaging her chest and teasing her nipples. and you were so fucking good at that, licking and sucking on her sensitive buds until they felt raw and swollen. and even after you would continue to roll the buds between your fingers, until you drew out soft whimpers from her, shying away from your touch and yet her hips trembled with need.

“finally,” kafka mutters, watching from her spot on the bed as you came back with the toy, her purple eyes following your every move as you slipped it on and secured it in place. just the sight of it aroused her further, anticipating the feeling of your cock buried in her walls already.

her robe was a mess; the lower half pushed to the sides to expose her pretty pussy to you, glistening even in the dim lighting of the room. even so you stopped her from undoing the knot that held it together, “keep it on, i quite like it actually.”

kafka only smiles in response, holding your gaze as you crawled over to her once again, before hooking her legs over your forearms and pushing it up. now in this position, it was much more obvious how wet you’ve got her, pussy oozing with juices as it awaits your cock. her breathing gets heavier again as you continuing to toy with her, her walls clenching and unclenching. your fingers brushed along her entrance and watching as more fluid leaks out her, and an involuntary twitch of her hips.

“come on,” she groans, leaning her head back and wiggling her hips, urging you to do something already. you could only laugh in return, before lining up the tip of the dildo to her hole, and in one swift motion, pushed into her pussy completely.

“ah—!” the yelped that escaped her lips was uncharacteristic, and ‘surprise’ was not an emotion she could relate to, but the feeling of your cock buried fully inside her in one thrust was unexpected. instead she had expected you to take your time, fucking her slow and steady until she can no longer take it.

but now kafka could feel your cock in her belly, pushing against her insides so deeply that she could barely breathe. without even giving her time to adjust to the sudden stretch, you’ve already beginning moving your hips, pushing deep into her with every thrust and making sure your hipbones pressed against her ass every time.

you kept your breathing steady, and your movements sharp, pressing kafka’s thighs down until she was almost folded in half, forming a pretty V-shape as her legs hung limply. to you, it merely felt like a workout, the only pleasure you received from this was watching the woman below you gasp and moan out from your relentless thrusts. watching her normally collected composure crumble, and her eyes roll back with pleasure.

even as kafka started to squirt halfway through, her juices spraying out every time you pulled out, you kept up your brutal pace, pushing back in full force. her body bounced with your thrusts, and every movement caused her sensitive nipples to brush against the silk fabric which only amplified the sensations running through her body.

now, sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, and kafka’s gasps for air filled the room. her hands gripped your arms, nails digging into your skin but you barely noticed it, fully focused on the woman beneath, watching every rise of her chest and every twitch of her hips. you’ve done this enough to know, what her body likes the best.

kafka could barely take a full breath between each of your thrusts, and it didn’t matter how tightly her pussy walls clenched; not when you’re pulling out and forcing it back in like that. pleasure coiled in her lower belly, tightening until it was almost unbearable. she could feel her hips and thighs quivering, the muscles struggling against your grip. in and out and in and out, kafka feels her mind getting dizzier, your cock felt so good inside as her back arches, right on the verge of an orgasm before it all suddenly stops.

in an instant, all sensations was ripped from her and she could no longer feel your warmth. somewhere in her mind, she just barely registers the whine that leaves her throat, body aching for your touch, your cock, once again. so out of it that she doesn’t even notice you flipping her to her front, face buried in the sheets as you lift her hips off the bed. the moans that escaped her lips she can’t even care to muffle; high-pitched and needy when you pull her hips back onto your cock, the lewd sounds echoing through the room.

the orgasm that you had so cruelly ripped from her was quickly building again, this time much faster as the tip of your cock pressed against the swollen bundle of nerves within her with every thrust. pain and pleasure mixed together under your bruising pace, kafka was sure that she’d feel it in the morning, but she cannot complain. after all, this was what she wanted—what she needed from you.

this time, you don’t stop. even as her pussy ached from oversensitivity and the bed below has been completely drenched with her juices, your hips continues to fuck the cock into her. until nothing but shaky breathing could be heard from the woman below you, her body falling limply to the bed as you finally released her hips, imprints of your hands pressed into the milky skin.

—

thankfully, you still remembered the page you left off in the book you were reading, picking it up as you sat back in the spot you were in previously. having now showered and cleaned up, you were ready to resume your peaceful reading.

on the other side of the bed, kafka was still in the same position you had left her in. whether she had fallen asleep or passed out, you didn’t really care to know. and you could still see her body twitching occasionally; surely an after effect of your actions. well, it didn’t matter. you would finish your reading and go to sleep, and in the morning when you awoke again, she would already be gone.

—

when kafka awoke, the room was dark and you had long since fallen asleep. her body felt stiff and sore after what you did, but ultimately she can say gave her exactly what she needed. that you fucked her until she passed out was amazing in itself, but leaving her like that and going to sleep yourself was clinical. the coldness and disinterest from you that she can’t get enough of, her pussy throbbed as she observed your sleeping body, how easy it would be to use you to get off right now, rip off the damned clothes that hid your body from her hungry eyes.

instead she reels herself in; there was work to be done. biting down on her bottom lip, she drags her spent body off the bed, only now realising the huge stains left on the sheets. she assumes embarrassment is what she should be feeling now, but instead she finds a pen and some paper.

i’ll pay for the sheets. my apologies, you were just too good. ♡

as she leaves your residence, kafka pulls out her phone. thinking back to your words earlier, she smiles as she drafts a message scheduled to be sent to you.

‘i’ll be coming over again tomorrow night. don’t say i didn’t schedule an appointment with you.’

[jinnieblue]

swinging through — peter parker *TEASER*

summary: her whole teen life had revolved around her dorky next-door neighbor, Peter Parker but that was five years ago, now, at twenty, she’s got her eyes set on a new bo—no, man; Spider-Man.

warning: minor age gap (three years), suggestive themes (reader likes the mask), mentions of blood/injuries, angst with a happy ending, not actually unrequited love, fem pronouns used, nicknames used instead of y/n, kinda sarcastic!reader,

theme song: another soul-mico

teaser wc: 300

a/n: it’s my first time posting on here in years, but i had to contribute to the small amount of insomniac spiderman fics (i need more). this will probably be a 2-3 part series, please be patient! I’ll post the first part soon but here is a small teaser! reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated! can be imagined as any peter but im writing with video game peter in mind so minor spoiler warning if you haven’t played any of the games? some spelling mistakes

Out of eight million people who lived in New York, of course, only this would happen to her.

Being held hostage in a crappy store with two other people, that is.

All she had wanted to do was get a bag of cat litter, due to running out the night before but here she is, sitting down in a mystery liquid she’d rather not be in, and with the cow villain(she cannot get over the cow ears he was wearing) pacing back and forth in front of her.

“Uhm, if you let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone. Pinky promise!” she had held a pinky up from her now-freed hands. It had been easier to untie herself due to the crappy knot they did.

“Didn't I tie your ha—never mind! No, he's on his way already and then I’ll extricate revenge!” The cow villain exclaims.

Who was on their way? Was it one of the Avengers, or Fantastic Four? Or was it Spider-Man?

In all honesty, she was getting kind of excited, of all of the heroes in New York, she had never encountered him.

She had lived in Harlem for the past three years and had only seen him swing by her window.

“Revenge for what exactly? Also, what is your name? I just keep calling you cow villain in my mind.”

“No one has ever asked for my name,” the villain seemed to tear up a bit before continuing,” it’s Cow-Median.”

She tried to choke back her laugh.

“Sorry.” She cleared her throat.

“No worries, you’re fine!” Cow-Median smiles and then becomes serious.

“And for revenge,” Cow-Median paused for a dramatic effect, “well, it’s because he’s obviously a meat eater!”

…

What?

That’s when the red and blue hero burst into the store where she was being held hostage.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 4

Action sequence time baby let's gooooooo

Thank you guys so much for all the support so far. This one took a little longer to cook because fight scenes take ages to choreograph lol.

If you missed the previous part, you can catch up here :)

A lot for explicit violence in this one, including blood and gore, so be prepared for that. Also, I spent ages researching Dark Eldar weaponry, but it's all so wacky and weird that I just kinda did my own thing? I know I know, it's kinda lazy, but I've already twisted the lore so much for this story already, what's the harm in a little more?

Aside from that, apologies for spelling and grammar errors, I hope you enjoy and as always, thanks for reading!

Ellicent yelps in surprise as Gadriel grabs her. When she glimpses the Dark Eldar skiff, though, it quickly becomes a snarl "Severus!" she hisses. "Severus, you fucking rat! You-"

The screeching song of metal clanging against metal drowns out the rest of her furious cries.

Shredder rounds. Fist sized shells packed with razor-sharp monofilaments and the prefered weapons for this particular war band. Their function is in the name: to shred. Everything. From flesh and bone to steel and concrete. And, if the grimace on Gadriel's face is anything to go by, even space marine ceramite.

Just beyond his right shoulder, Ellicent spots the skiff again. It's hovering, now. Flanks split open like misplaced mouths, spewing scores of Dark Eldar raiders. Their armour is black and sleek; all crossing belts and studded leather. Except the studs aren't studs at all, but are rather chunks of skull and spinal bones. And the leather... Throne. Some of their chest pieces still have hair. Still have faces. Ellicent feels her stomach tie itself into knots.

The xenos still on the skiff cease their rain of fire as their melee force joins the fray. The latter hits the rooftop running. Gnarled spears and serrated blades flash in their taloned hands. Their long, elven faces are twisted into wicked grins. Some of them shriek in bloodlust and ecstasy.

Ellicent sets her jaw. "Turn left, Gadriel!"

Without hesitation, he does as she says. Twisting his hips, keeping a hold on Ellicent as he does. A trio of Dark Eldar are in front of her now. Screeching in delight with their weapons raised. Ellicent lifts her gauss canon towards them. With a cry of her own, she squeezes the trigger with her entire hand. The necron weapon cracks like a sonic boom. A lance of green energy- blinding, sparking, pulsing- explodes from its barrel at the speed of light. It hits the centre-most raider in the chest. For a moment his squeals turn agonising. Then, he says nothing at all. The beam devours him whole, blowing his body apart before stripping the pieces of their very atoms. It leaves no remains. Not even a pile of ash.

Alarmed, his comrades scatter, but Ellicent is on them like a hawk. Two more times, she fires. And two more times, a xenos is obliterated. She releases the trigger. Her gauss canon whines at her as if in disappointment.

Above her head, she hears Gadriel laughing.

His voice sounds different, now. Mechanical. Modulated. Ellicent glances up to find his face is now covered by a red Astartes' helm. The sight startles her a little. "Holy Terra," he says. "I'm glad you didn't hit me with that thing."

At first, the comment makes Ellicent wince. Then, she hears the smile in his voice.

He's joking. Seems like such a trivial thing, especially now. But even so, Ellicent can't help the warmth she feels inside at the realisation.

All around them, the Dark Eldar raiders circle them like sharks, no less blood-thirsty, but definately wary now. Their skiff continues to orbit overhead and its shredder fire has started up again. But it's not aimed at them anymore. It's aiming behind them. From that same direction, Ellicent hears the periodic bellow of a bolter.

The other Ultramarine. It has to be. What had Gadriel called him again?

Titus.

Gadriel releases the arm he'd had pinned across her middle, returning Ellicent to her feet. She hears a sword unsheath, an energy field activate. In her peripherals, she glimpses his power sword in one of his hands.

He stands at her back. His armour and undersuit are rough against her skin.

They're also wet...

"Are you bleeding?" she asks.

"I was. But no longer."

Despite herself, Ellicent's chest tightens. "Are you alright?"

Gadriel's response is a growl. "Dont worry about me. Focus on looking after yourself."

Ellicent stifles a growl of her own. You don't need to tell me; that's all I've been doing for the last fifty years.

Limber as they are, the Dark Eldar are still impossibly quick. They don't sprint so much as glide across the floor, and when they duck and dodge, their bodies are literal blurs.

Ellicent fires her gauss cannon again. She tags one on the arm. In a flurry of screams and green light, the limb evaporates, all the way up to the creature's shoulder. The raider collapses to the ground, writhing and wailing. The sight makes Ellicent grin. The Dark Eldar are infamous for deriving pleasure from pain; not just other's but their own, too. Looks like atomisation, though is too excruciating a pain even for the likes of them.

Holding down the trigger this time, Ellicent swings the weapon from left to right, carving into the incoming raiders with a continuous spray of lethal anti-matter. Three more fall victim to its fire, but one- a long-legged male in nothing but a skin loin cloth- manages to slip through. He's getting close. Too close. If Ellicent were to fire on him now, she'd risk catch herself in the blast. Taking her hand off the trigger, Ellicent grips both of the canon's handles tight. As the naked raider cocks his arm back to slash at her, she drops low. Putting every ounce of body weight and cybernetic strength behind the swing as she can, Ellicent slams the barrel of her gauss canon into the alien's groin. The xenos goes down like a corpse, howling in pain and fury. Before he can rise, Ellicent raises her necronian leg high and slams her foot into his head. Bone and blood spray as her metal heel plunges through his skull. When she lifts her foot again, her heel and sole are both splattered with pulverised brain matter.

A roar at her back catches her attention. She spins just in time to see Gadriel cleave one of his attackers in half with his power sword. Another, he punches in the chest with his free hand. The alien's body explodes as if it'd just been hit with a tank round.

Ellicent watches him with shock on her face. She's seen and fought enough space marines in her time to have overcome the transhuman dread that the sight of them afflicts in mortals. But seeing these things in Gadriel- her Gadriel- it brings that sickly feeling surging right back.

It unsettles her. Throws her off-balance and out-of-focus. It lasts only a second. But in that same second, for reasons unknown, the Dark Eldar skiff steers its sights away from Titus and back to her. And Ellicent realises it too late.

Releasing her gauss canon, she drops to one knee and throws up her robotic arm. She angles it across her head and chest, trying to shield her most vital parts. It's pointless, she knows. Even if she manages to spare her heart or brain, the shredders will just cut the rest of her to ribbons. But it's all Ellicent can think to do. She has to try. She can't just-

An enormous ceramite hand grabs her around the waist and yanks her out of the way.

"Head down!" Gadriel yells. Dropping his sword, he hugs her to his chest with both arms and crouches on one knee. His ceramite screams as the shredders make impact. Ellicent pictures their bladed edges biting through the plate and sawing into the undersuit beneath. Sparks fill through the air. The stench of burning metal is almost sickening. Ellicent squeezes her eyes shut. She shimmies her arms free from where they're pinned against Gadriel's midriff and covers her ears.

Her breath hitches. Her hands; they feel wet and sticky.

Is that...

Reopening her eyes, Ellicent looks at her palms. All over her arms, from her finger tips up to her biceps, she's streaked with human blood. Same as down her front, where she's pressed into Gadriel's torso.

Ellicent's throat tightens.

Gadriel.

She can't see his face from behind his helmet. Its slanted red eyes make it look like he's glaring with rage. But his grip isn't as strong as it had been before, and with every third or fourth shredder that hits, she hears him winces.

The knot in Ellicent's throat winds tighter. "We can't stay here!" she cries. "We've got to move!"

"And go where?" he grunts. The thinness of his voice only confirms what she'd already feared.

"Get me a shot at the skiff. I can take it down."

"You expose yourself like that and you'll be dead in a second."

"I've got to try!"

"Don't you dare."

"If I don't, they'll tear you-"

"I said no, Ellie!" Gadriel shouts.

It's then the shredder suddenly stops again. Still holding onto Ellicent, Gadriel looks over his shoulder.

"What?" she asks.

"Oh Throne," he mutters.

As the curse leaves his mouth, his body lurches forwards and his voice devolves into a pained groan.

"Gadriel?" Ellicent grasps his sides of his helmet with both hands. "Hey! Are you okay?"

Gadriel falls to one knee. Releasing one of his arms from around her to catch himself. Ellicent takes the chance to wrestle free from his grasp. Quickly, she scans him up and down. What she finds makes her stomach drop.

It's an impaler. A two-pronged, ship-mounted harpoon weapon, one the Dark Eldar typically reserve for taking out vehicles or skewering heavy armour. And they've just shot Gadriel with one. Speared him in the back and straight through his right side. Blood pours from both wounds in a torrent. Already, it's made a pool on the floor.

"Oh no..."

Ellicent runs back to him. Grabs his helmet again as if she were cupping his cheeks. "No, no, no, no!"

"Ellie..." His voice cracks like broken glass. It brings tears to Ellicent's eyes. "Listen to me. You... you have to..."

"Shut your mouth," Ellicent growls. Before he can argue with her, she steps away from him. Aiming her gauss canon at the sky, hunting for the skiff. She finds it, but never gets the chance to fire. The raiders are waiting for her. The second she's out of Gadriel's protective shadow, they're on her. Kicking out her legs. Ripping her weapon from her hands. Slamming her face into the floor, then a club into the back of her head. The last thing she sees is Gadriel. Kneeled over, covered in blood, a monstrous alien spear sticking out of his ribs. A scream tears through her throat. The sound is the truest embodiment of fury and grief.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Gadriel dreams of steel and blood. The stench of hot iron. The taste of copper. A haze of blinding light and shredded nerve endings.

He doesn't know where he is, how much time has passed. He doesn't even know if he's still alive.

And what about Titus? What happened to him? And Ellie-

Oh Throne. Ellie...

The haze suddenly dissolves. All at once, his senses return. They do so with startling clarity. The smell of hot iron is replaced by that of dampness and decay. His ears ring with the high-pitched hum of an alien engine. He suddenly remembers he has eyes and gingerly, opens them one by one.

A single, white lamp illuminated the entire space around him. Black metal surrounds him, save for the walls on his left and directly in front of him, which instead are made from thick heavy bars. The air is humid and warm, like the inside of a beast's stomach. The stench is nauseating. Gadriel reaches for his helmet to turn on its filters. Instead of ceramite, however, his fingers brush his bare cheek.

My armour...

He looks at his hands. His gauntlets are gone, too, along with every other piece of ceramite plate he'd been wearing. All that remains is his black undersuit.

They've captured me. The thought sends dread spiking through Gadriel's veins. Very few of the brothers he's met have fought the Dark Eldar, and fewer still have been captured and survived to tell the tale. But those few he does know told him about it. What they said had stayed with him right up to this very day.

I have to get out of here, he thinks. Planting his palms on the floor and pushing himself to his feet. I have to find Ellie and Titus, and get us all-

A spear of agony pierces Gadriel's right side and pained roar rips from his throat. He falls back against the wall, breathing hard and fast. Thick bands of sweat are pouring off his brow.

Tentatively, he touches his side. His finger come back slick with fresh blood.

Gadriel bares his teeth. That's right, he thinks bitterly. I'd almost forgotten.

The fresh blood, however, is deeply concerning. The moment the harpoon had been removed, his larraman cells should have sealed the wound closed tight. Wiping his hands on his thigh, Gadriel presses them to his stomach, chest and left side. Once against, his palms return bloody.

It's not just the spear wound; the cuts and gashes from the shredders haven't sealed either.

Gadriel's vision starts darkening again. His head now pounds in time with his injuries. It could just be his panicked mind playing tricks, but it feels an awful lot like he's about to loose consciousness again.

Shit. Not good. This is not good.

"Gadriel? Is that you?"

His vision suddenly clears. Gadriel looks up, peers through the bar wall separating his cell from the one next door . In the corner closest to the back edge, a shadow moves. Unfurling into the silhouette of a woman, crouching in front of the bars and gripping them with one hand.

"Yes it is," Ellie says quietly. In the low light, her eyes twinkle like a cat's. "It's really you."

With a grimace, Gadriel pushes off from the wall. His hearts are soaring, but in his current state, he can manage is sitting a little straighter. "Ellie! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Just have a sore head. They hit me pretty hard."

"I saw," Gadriel says. He swallows as a surge of acidic bile fills his mouth at the memory. "But you are otherwise unharmed?"

Ellie hesitates for a moment. Her silence is almost confused. "Yes," she eventually replies. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Gadriel sighs in tangible relief. "Thank the Emperor for that."

"What about you?" Ellie asks.

Gadriel grits his teeth in a rueful smile. "I think the bastards might’ve tagged me," he says.

Ellie isn't amused by his poor attempt at humour. "How bad is it?"

"It's not good," he admits.

"Can you move?"

"Probably. The bleeding hasn't stopped, though. Even though it should've."

"It's poison," says Ellie. "Kills larraman cells. They coat their projectiles with it. Meant to make space marines bleed to death."

Gadriel looks at his hands. The pounding in his head grows tenfold. "Well. Isn't that just great..."

"Yup." He hears shuffling as Ellie changes position. Sitting on thefloor now, she rests her left side on the bars separating her cell from his, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Gadriel asks her.

"Oh yeah," Ellie says. "Only the most cursed, ugly pain-ridden ship in this entire system." The dryness in her voice borders on resignation. "Welcome to the Dark Star."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

If the ending feels a bit abrupt that's because it is lol. I was writing this part, and it just kinda kept going and I realised it was gonna be way WAY too long. So I split it into two :)

Anyway, thank you so much for reading everyone. Part 5 is coming soon <3

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse

[snakeflower-cottage]

Now that I’ve spoken about the master, I wanted to talk about my mistress…

Nicnevin, the Gyre Carlin and Queen of the Unseelie Court

Nicnevin (or Nicneven, Nyneve, Nignivie) is a name that lingers in the damp winds of Scotland, woven into the old roads of witchcraft, faery lore, and the calls of geese at night. She is the Gyre Carlin, the great witch-mother, feared and revered in equal measure. She is no mere mortal sorceress but something older, one of the Queens of Elphame, ruler of the Unseelie Court of Autumn and Winter, mistress of wild magic.

The Whirling Hag and Her Spinning Magic

The title Gyre Carlin is more than just a name. Gyre means to whirl, to spiral, to turn, and Carlin is the Scots word for a witch or crone. She is the Spinner, the one who twists fate upon her spindle, weaving spells as fine as gossamer and binding spirits as surely as a knotted thread. Like the Cailleach, she is tied to the great cycles of time, turning the wheel of the seasons, unraveling the threads of life and death.

Witches who followed her were said to use enchanted thread in their charms—knotted cords to bind or unbind, spun flax to draw down the wind, red wool to turn away the ill ee. In some tales, Nicnevin herself would spin fate into being, crafting charms that could grant second sight or summon a lover’s spirit from across the moors.

Her role as a spinner also ties her to transformation. Just as thread changes shape beneath the fingers of the weaver, Nicnevin herself is ever-changing. In some stories, she shifts her form from a hag to a maiden, from a woman to a hare, an owl, a great black mare. She teaches her witches the same arts, how to slip from one shape to another, how to run unseen in the night, how to vanish with the turn of a cloak.

Herbal Magic and the Poisoner’s Art

Nicnevin’s witches were also known for their knowledge of herbs—both for healing and for harm. She was a patron of those who gathered in the moonlight, searching for roots and flowers with potent virtues. It was said that certain plants, when picked on her feast night, carried an extra charge of magic.

Henbane and nightshade, foxglove and yew—plants of dream and death, spirits bound in green flesh. Her followers knew which could grant visions, which could numb pain, which could send the soul flying from the body to join her spectral hunt. They brewed ointments from these herbs, rubbing them into their skin to slip between worlds, riding the wind to Elphame.

Yet she was not only a bringer of poison—Nicnevin was also a great healer, though her ways were wild and strange. In folk belief, certain illnesses were caused by fae mischief or the interference of spirits. A wise woman who called on Nicnevin might craft a charm to lift such afflictions, whispering her name over water poured through a holed stone or mixing herbs into an offering left at the crossroads.

The Unseelie Queen and Her Spirit Host

As Queen of the Unseelie Court, Nicnevin rides at the head of a fearsome procession. Unlike the gentler Seelie fae, who may grant fortune to those they favor, the Unseelie are the dark and wayward spirits—restless dead, twisted fae, and witches who did not find their peace. On stormy nights, her host sweeps over the land, their passage marked by sudden gusts of wind, the barking of unseen hounds, or the flicker of lights in the bog.

To cross her path unprotected is to risk being swept away—unless one knows the proper rites. Some folk left out offerings of milk, ale, or bread to keep her favor. Others carried rowan or iron, whispering charms if they heard hoofbeats on the wind. Those who dared to ride with her might return forever changed—if they returned at all.

Nicnevin’s Legacy

Though her name has faded from common telling, traces of Nicnevin still linger in Scotland’s folklore, in the rites of witches who spin and weave, in the gathering of herbs beneath the moon, in the whisper of wind that carries the scent of heather and something older still.

She is the Spinner, the Poisoner, the Queen who flies.

Would you know her, if she called you to join her revel?

[leafbaked]

not to be , sad on main , but fragile .... is so strong . first she loses higgs to amelie , altho i'm not sure how much she realized at first , but she tells sam, peter left me for her because her powers put my to shame . and irregardless of book canon vs game canon vs w/e, it's proven in both fragile realizes amelie is the issue . SO, when her first friend platonic/intimate, doesn't matter | her first real connection/partner abandons her bc she isn't 'good enough' that had to be so painful & then for him to come back and hurt her w/ timefall, that's just - damn. and then, for sam, the great deliverer, whose been on this journey with her; sacrificed so much to fall prey to the same bs in the end. it's no wonder she returns to higgs and questions the reality of it, getting her answers from him... about the bb/amelie, etc. because if sam can be influenced and he's stubborn as hell -- then if she knew higgs/peter at all , she must have realized, amelies influence was long reaching and hard to escape . idk , i just think fragile realized something in that moment, not even romantically 'we're even, nothing more, nothing owed', ... and i think it's going to be a part of how higgs is in ds2. i like to think the gunshots were less her 'shooting him' or higgs shooting himself or the air or whatever and more about , a threat. like i'll kill you, do you really want to die? and i think he doesn't- not really, not when it really came down to it. fragile touches his face and that expression is beyond soft and confused and sane . i think she gave sam bb, then went to get higgs to 'save it' and he was like ' hahaha actually lol' and then she threatens him w/gun and he's like im not lying and shows her. i just can't see fragile leaving him on the beach. fragile sees hope in broken things and tries to help/fix it. higgs kept fragile things safe until he turned to t/errorist things. and sam, he's the great deliverer. i feel like we have these 3 things, together for tomorrow. knot, stick, with fragile keeping them together .

I wanted to rejoin the fragments of this broken world. ( fragile fixes sam & helps him connect again.)

He said that the Higgs Field connected all particles, gave them substance. (higgs gives sam a purpose - kidnapping amelie/ending the word. sam finally has 'substance' a purpose)

and sam is the bridge . *u*

also book canon is now my canon because i love fragile knowing him as peter , and being aware of why he picked his chosen name and him knowing about the higgs boson field ; - ; . and i've been spelling his name ingame wrong lmao. engelbert is what i thought it was lmao.

Peter Englert used to be a porter. As a courier, he was absolutely obsessed with his deliveries. He was so serious that he used to tell me how transporting goods and connecting people was the one thing that kept him going. He had all the right attributes for the job. Talked to me about why he took on the name Higgs as an homage to the Higgs Field, that which gives mass to all particles within the universe. He said that the Higgs Field connected all particles, gave them substance and brought this world into existence. That’s why I joined forces with him in the first place. I wanted to rejoin the fragments of this broken world. I let him use my power. I entrusted him with everything. But Higgs turned on me after he met Amelie. I never knew what it was that changed him. All he said was that her powers put mine to shame. He said that if he could rely on her power, then connecting the entire world would no longer be just a dream. He didn’t need me anymore. Once he had Amelie and the Fragile Express system he had everything he needed. But he got so drunk on Amelie that he became her agent of extinction. He was no longer the Higgs who brought mass to the world, but a Homo Demens who lived to bring chaos and destroy it. All of our abilities—the ability to summon BTs and the ability to jump through the Beach—they were all given to us by her. She was the one who stopped me making jumps. Everything was down to Amelie, down to the Extinction Entity. But Higgs soon forgot all about that and began to delude himself into thinking that he was the mastermind. Even though Amelie was the architect of it all, Higgs was made to believe that he was the writer and the hero of the story.

[zapreportsblog]

The Secret Revealed

➥ summary: Mash didn’t think anyone would find out his secret, too bad someone did

➥ a/n: someone once asked me to disclose where I’ve gotten all of my art from for my stories, as well as tag the artists. Sadly, all the pictures I use for my stories, or even the gifs I use come from either Google or Pinterest. Also, I just finished watching this anime so hopefully I got something correct . I appreciate the unwavering support you all have shown me so thank you for reading :)

➥ mashle magic and muscles / mash burnedead x reader

On the outskirts of the majestic city of Evervale, nestled amidst the lush greenery, stood the prestigious Magic Academy, a school renowned for honing the magical abilities of young witches and wizards. Among its students was a young man named Mash Burnedead, who, despite coming from a long line of powerful sorcerers, found himself burdened with a dark secret.

•••

On a bright morning, the school's training grounds were buzzing with students fervently practicing their magical arts. Mash was amidst the crowd, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to conjure a simple levitation spell. But no matter how hard he tried, the faintest glimmer of magic eluded him, leaving him frustrated and disheartened.

As he practiced, a mysterious figure caught his eye. A girl with captivating eyes and a determined expression was making her way toward him. Mash recognized her as (Y/N), a fellow student he had often seen around the campus.

Feeling a knot forming in his stomach, Mash couldn't help but wonder what she wanted. He had always been a reserved and introverted young man, preferring to keep to himself and avoid unnecessary attention. The prospect of being confronted by someone, especially about his secret, sent his heart racing.

Approaching him, (Y/N) stopped a few paces away, her gaze locked onto his eyes, making him feel exposed and vulnerable. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a nervous twitch.

"You," she said, her voice carrying an unusual mix of curiosity and confidence, "I know your secret."

Mash felt the world around him momentarily freeze. His secret was something he had kept hidden from even his closest friends and family. Panic gripped his heart, and his mind raced through possible scenarios.

"W-What secret?" Mash stammered, his voice barely audible.

The girl's lips curved into a knowing smile, adding to Mash's anxiety. "Don't play innocent with me. I know you have no magic," she said, her tone unwavering.

His secret was out. It felt like the ground beneath him had disappeared, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. How had she found out? Was she going to expose him to the entire school, ridiculing him for his inability to wield magic?

Feeling cornered, Mash tried to think of a way out. "I-I can explain," he stammered, his mind searching for the right words. "It's not what you think. I just... haven't unlocked my powers yet."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by his explanation. "Really?" she retorted, her voice laced with skepticism. "You've been at this school for years, and you still haven't unlocked your magic? Come on, it's time to be honest with yourself."

Mash's shoulders slumped, defeated. The weight of his secret was crushing, and he felt a mix of shame and vulnerability. He had always felt like an outcast, trying desperately to fit in with the magical talents that surrounded him.

Before he could muster the courage to ask her what she intended to do with this newfound knowledge, (Y/N) surprised him with her response. "But I won't tell anyone," she said, her expression softening. "Your secret is safe with me."

Her words were like a lifeline, pulling him from the depths of his despair. Mash was taken aback by her unexpected kindness. He had prepared for the worst, but her understanding and assurance gave him a glimmer of hope.

"Why would you keep my secret?" he asked, unable to hide his astonishment.

(Y/N) gave him a small smile, her eyes full of empathy. "Because I believe that people should be defined by their character, not just their magical abilities. I see more in you than the absence of magic. Let's keep this between us, alright?"

Gratitude flooded Mash's heart, and he nodded earnestly. "Thank you," he whispered, overwhelmed by her generosity.

As she turned to leave, (Y/N) looked back at him one last time, her eyes filled with a newfound respect. "You're welcome," she replied. "But remember, secrets have a way of shaping us. It's up to you to embrace who you are, magic or not."

With those parting words, she walked away, leaving Mash to ponder the unexpected encounter. Little did he know that this chance meeting with (Y/N) would change the course of his life forever, leading him on a journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and the realization that true strength came from within, magic or no magic.

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 7)

Loving him was Red

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble / Loving him was Red

Summary: Y/N meets the mysterious woman again and ends up accepting a proposal from Coryo.

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Y/N was so hurried that, upon getting off the train, she barely noticed the mysterious woman waiting for her at the station.

"Y/N," the woman called, and she recognized her instantly.

"Sorry?" The woman's appearance, deeply engraved in her mind, evoked recent memories.

"How are you?"

"I have so many questions," Y/N said as she approached the woman, somewhat desperate. This month had been the most confusing of her life.

"I know, dear. Come with me." The woman guided Y/N to the quieter part of the station. "You can ask."

They sat close. Y/N wanted to know many things: the woman's name, if she was from the future or the present, what her future would be like, among others.

"Am I doing something right? Has anything really changed?" She didn't know if the woman could know that, but it was the question that tormented her the most. And it didn't seem like the woman would stay for long.

"Y/N, everything has changed since the moment we first saw each other." The vague answer didn't please Y/N. The woman noticed the girl's confused expression and added, "Everything I showed you happened over and over again. I know it by heart." The woman spoke as if it were something tiresome for her to repeat.

"Coriolanus wins the Games. He's intelligent and cunning. But the real game begins when he is sent to District 12 as a Peacekeeper. He tries to create a new life, a new image, but the past cannot be erased." The vision of Coriolanus shooting the birds resurfaced in Y/N's mind. She remained silent, allowing the woman to continue.

"He gets involved with Lucy Gray. A romance that seems destined, but things fall apart when Lucy discovers Coriolanus's role in the death of Sejanus Plinth, her best friend. Unknowingly, he sealed Sejanus's fate by denouncing him to the Capitol."

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of betrayal and tragedy. "He… he betrays his own friend?"

The woman nodded with regret. "Coriolanus's past haunts him, and Sejanus's shadow hangs over him. Lucy Gray, discovering the truth, can't overcome the betrayal. Their relationship crumbles, leaving Coriolanus with the weight of his choices."

Y/N was immersed in dark thoughts. "This is horrible. He condemned his own friend to death?"

"The line between ally and enemy, loyalty and betrayal, is thin in the Hunger Games and in the Capitol. Coriolanus, in his quest for survival, will pay a high price. But you, Y/N, have a role to play in all of this." Y/N's eyes widened in surprise.

The woman smiled enigmatically. "The future is woven by many threads, and each choice, each action, creates a new plot. You have the power to change things, to influence events. The question is: what will you do with this information?" Y/N felt a knot forming in her stomach. Faced with a crossroads, she understood that the choices she made would shape not only the destiny of Coriolanus Snow but also her own.

"I…" she murmured, "I don't know."

The woman reached out, gently touching Y/N's shoulder. "The answers will unfold at the right moment. Keep in mind that life is not just a dichotomy between black and white; it moves in shades of gray, where true choices manifest. Trust your intuition and strengthen yourself. When the boy is close, you will need to take a firm stand, without concessions. Treat him as the antagonist that destiny will turn him into. Don't tolerate his selfish actions, but also avoid closing the doors to the possibility of understanding. Find the balance between assertiveness and discernment, as it is in that space that true influences will shape the course of events."

Y/N involuntarily closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the woman was no longer there. Leaving Y/N alone with her reflections and the weight of the revelations she carried. The destiny, now, was more intertwined than ever, and Y/N felt the urgency to make decisions that could alter the course of events.

She then thought about what the woman said, about what ended Coryo and Lucy Gray's relationship. If she could prevent Coriolanus from betraying Sejanus, that could change everything. However, she wondered how she could achieve such a feat. She wouldn't have the possibility to follow him to the District after the Games. She needed to find a way to influence him before, to the point where, in addition to questioning the idea, he would choose not to betray Sejanus.

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

Y/N woke up in her bed as usual, the events lingering in her mind like an enigmatic dream. She got up, changed her clothes, and noticed her nightstand. There was a glass of water with the two roses she had taken from the boy. She followed her morning routine and hurried out of her apartment towards the block of classrooms.

After class, she went straight to the study room, where she found only a blond boy sitting at one of the tables. She thought about leaving as quickly as possible, but he was already standing, calling her.

"Y/N!" The blond exclaimed, interrupting her.

Y/N didn't need to talk to him now; she wanted some time to think. Besides, she had slept very poorly that night.

"I need to talk to you." Oh, now he wanted to talk? A wave of nervousness washed over the girl. Did each of his calls demand an immediate response, as if ignoring them could unleash disastrous consequences? Her patience was about to run out, but if there was a chance to help the boy, it would be on her terms, staying true to herself. She decided to ignore the calls.

Coriolanus was faster, grabbing her arm, making her turn involuntarily. For a moment, she forgot that one step of the boy was equivalent to three of hers.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, like an orphaned puppy in a pet shop wanting to be adopted. Too bad because Y/N didn't believe.

"Do you think words fix everything, don't you? You can hit someone, then just do your tricks, flip your hair, and it's over?" She gestured while venting. "I don't believe in any word that comes out of your mouth, Coriolanus. You lie. You deceive. How can you? Talking about the districts, criticizing their way of dealing with grief." She seemed genuinely hurt by this.

"I know, I know, and I've reflected a lot on it since that day. I was wrong."

"There should be a District 14 just for people like you, shallow and soulless." Y/N's voice was full of provocation. "You and Clemensia can be mayor and first lady there, what do you think?" The boy just laughed. Wouldn't the Capitol be that place?

"How did you know? I'm here in person to invite you to be my first lady." The boy approached dangerously with a smile on his face.

"Well, I refuse. We don't make a beautiful couple," the girl teased. This made the boy approach even more, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her closer.

"Unfortunately, I have to disagree with you," he replied quietly, his voice raspier than usual, staring at her rosy lips without disguising it. Y/N's breath was already uneven.

"Sorry for my harsh words. I don't expect you to forgive me immediately, but I ask you to pay more attention to my actions from now on. Because it will be through them that I will redeem myself."

"Let's see," the girl replied. Now it was the boy's turn to put a rose behind her ear. Another one for his collection of roses in her apartment. One thing caught her attention: the rose in her hair was red. Could she see it in her peripheral vision?

"Red?" Snow's roses were always white. Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by Coriolanus's gesture. There was something different in the boy's expression, a sincerity she had never seen before. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was trying to change.

"I thought it would suit you better," he said. She really wanted to believe that the boy had gone up to the rooftop and chosen a special rose to give to the girl. But it was very hard to believe. What color would he give to Lucy Gray? The girl stepped back suddenly. "I wanted it to be different this time," Coriolanus admitted, his serious gaze meeting hers. "Snow's roses are white, but… I thought maybe it was time to change."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by the explanation. Coriolanus Snow, the boy she knew, was defying family traditions. Was this a genuine sign of change?

"Coryo, I know you had just come from the arena. It was very difficult. But you didn't lie. You said something that was really inside you. And that's what scares me the most." Coryo didn't know how to respond; he wanted her to believe him. He wanted to retort, speak, shout, anything that would make the girl stay there, but Y/N had already moved away and continued toward the exit.

Coriolanus watched Y/N walk away, feeling the weight of her words and the complexity of the emotions the girl carried. A sudden impulse made him follow her, determined to defy expectations. "Wait, Y/N," he called, "I know words alone don't change the past, but I'm willing to prove that actions speak louder. Accept this: one night, where I can show you that I'm not just empty words."

He seemed really desperate.

"Okay," was all the girl said.

"Saturday night, I'll pick you up at 7 pm."

_______________________

Sorry for the delay, these days have been very busy for me. I had a huge creative block. This chapter is more for contextualization but the next one will have a lot of emotion and fluff <3

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