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popjunkie42 · 4 days

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Painted Blind - Chapter One

Amazing commission done by the brilliant, beautiful and talented @witchlingsandwyverns!!! (thank you I love you!!!)

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Read on AO3

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta reads and encouragement. I have been working on this for a long time...over a year...and the support has been amazing!

It's here! I haven't built it up too much or anything and am now nervous! Don't look at me!

I hope you enjoy...this will be a journey <3 Snippet of chapter one under the cut!

Unhappy the land that is in need of heroes.

-Bertolt Brecht, Galileo

Woodsmoke and stale ale hung heavy in the air as I gently shut the back door to the tavern.

The noise of the place hit me like a jolt. I was used to the twilight quiet of the forest, and the cold and empty winter streets outside. The deep boom of men’s laughter and shouts, the clatter of the kitchen, the drowned out sounds of a fiddle in the corner. Wood groaned under my feet, the floor sticky and worn as I edged around the walls in the shadows, angling towards the roaring fireplace.

This was not a place for young women like me. Certainly not my first choice of accommodations for the night. The brazen, lingering stares running up and down my body reminded me of that every step of the way. But the heat of the fire along with the surrounding warm bodies was worth it when I began to feel the tips of my fingers again.

Ten minutes ago I had been elbows-deep in blood and entrails, the squelching sound drowned out by the laughter and warm light of the tavern behind me as I worked. One dunk of my bloody hands into a frozen bucket of water to wash off made me rethink any fearful self preservation I might have had left.

Survival was like that. Blurring the edges of what should be a simple, safe decision.

But I wasn’t making cautious decisions these days. Outside, chill winds whipped up the fresh frozen snow and threw it against anything in its path. My cheeks smarted and burned with it even now. The cold had taken the easy prey and then the difficult prey, and now I was forced deeper and deeper into the woods every night to find something, anything for my family.

My fingers and toes started to ache as the frozen digits warmed back to life, tingling with pain. I knew the barkeep’s goodwill would only last so long once he saw me and knew I wouldn’t be purchasing anything. Even if the growling of my stomach battled the sounds in this loud room, as the smells of fresh bread and ale and mutton wafted through the room amidst the more unpleasant scents.

But it wouldn’t do to leave the deer unattended for long, not when there were desperate men and other predators just as hungry as me and attracted to the scent of blood. I had more of the deer to skin, and it would be hours until the dawn sun touches this place.

Cracked skin, split nails, a cramp in my stomach. Usually that was all I had to show for my nights buried in snow up to my knees or huddled in bare tree branches. But tonight, at dusk, luck was with me and I had taken a deer as it crept towards the half frozen river.

It had walked directly under my tree and straight ahead of me, presented like a ready gift from some long forgotten god. I was so weak with cold and hunger my hands shook as I readied my bow. But my arrow hit true.

Still, the deer had been larger than I could usually handle. I spent too much time with my feet buried in new snow, making a rough bower, then gutting it and finally taking the head before it was light enough for me to carry back in slippery sprints.

My body was screaming with exhaustion by the time I spotted the low night lights of the village. But there was nowhere in our family’s small cabin to keep a bleeding body. Certainly not if my sisters had anything to say about it.

More eyes shot to me as a glass smashed and I jolted like a spooked rabbit. I rubbed life back into my hands, trying to calm my nerves. Now that I wasn’t shivering and fighting the cold, exhaustion threatened to set deep in my bones. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. Nesta and Elain would be fast asleep, cuddled together for warmth in our shared bed.

The anger in me burned, like the bitter nettle tea Elain brewed to keep our stomachs warm in between meals.

Two men had been watching me, talking low and close to one another for too long. I wove between bodies and chairs to find another spot further away from their gaze.

My life was always like this, for as long as we had been in the cabin. Forced out of our richly appointed manor by my father’s debtors, the old place now just a dreamy blur in the fading memories of my childhood.

The days were never dull, that was for certain. I ricocheted between life and death, forest and hearth, starvation and sustenance. I walked the woodland paths that fed and sheltered me, forests that held monsters or the stark winter seasons of starvation. Poisons and fanged beasts and untrustworthy men. Fruit and herbs, glistening springs, growth and life and death. Three pathways: death, bare survival, or thriving life, all converging to a crossroads, and sometimes I ran so quickly between them I got whiplash.

Sometimes, in the twilight hours between sleep and waking, I remembered when it wasn’t always so. I remembered a childhood filled with dresses and lavish meals and even stolen cookies with petal pink icing that smeared all over my face. I couldn’t recall, now, the last time I tasted sugar. Or had days on end with a full belly, without a care in my heart. That life was over now, and this new one demanded sacrifices. Like drawing the attention of unsavory drunk men in order to stay warm enough to bring breakfast to my family.

My eyes cast over the crowd. I wasn’t entirely alone. Isaac Hale was here, with his father and brothers, doing an excellent job of ignoring me completely. Old Hobb, at least, had given me a tip of his floppy felt cap from his station at the bar, several tankards in tonight. He had already reached the next stage of his drunkenness and would doubtless start a fight or an oddly unslurred lecture soon.

I didn’t mind - I had been subject to many of those lectures, and sometimes found them helpful. The old hunter was one of the few men in the village who had ever shown me kindness, catching me some years back when he caught me slicing through the intestines of my rabbits as I tried to skin them.

The cold, snow-burned skin on my cheeks was now hot and burning on my face as my blood ran warmer, waking from its sluggish sleep.

If I was lucky tonight, Isaac would continue to ignore me and the rest of the bar would be too drunk to notice or remember me. And if they did focus on me too long, I had been practicing since I was fifteen - the stance I had, one that was quiet but not small. Forcing the tiredness from my face the best I could, setting my jaw and keeping my hunting knife in easy reach.

I wouldn’t be prey tonight. I was the hunter. And if anyone chose to test me, my hunger and desperation would only make me more fierce.

At least, that’s what I told myself, to keep from breaking apart.

Just as I was thinking about moving back into the cold to finish my butchering, the front door of the tavern swung open with a blast of cold wind.

And silence fell.

Read the rest on AO3

#acotar #feysand #acotar fanfiction #psyche and eros #acotar retelling #canon divergence #acotar fanfic #greek myth inspired #my writing

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kitkat238984 · 5 months

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Stupid Cupid

Summary: Only your dear friend, Dante, would be the one to get so tired of your obliviousness to one another's love that he'd force you both to go on a blind date.

And how do you two return the favour? Well, it's an eye for an eye, right?

Notes: This one's not all that good to be honest.

5426 words.

“Y/N”.

You glanced up from your phone at the clean-cut man with brown curled hair and a neat goatee sat under his chin. You raised an expecting eyebrow at Dante who leaned his weight on his hands against the table you were sitting at, leaning over and towering over you.

“Can I help you?” you asked, ending the tense silence.

“Tyler likes you”.

Not this again.

You sighed and went back to scrolling through Instagram.

“No, he doesn’t”.

“How would you know that?”

“I just do”.

It was his turn to sigh and drop his head, deciding to sit down on the chair opposite you. He knew there was no use in convincing you - he’d tried countless times - yet he still thought that maybe one day you’ll be all like “Oh my god, really? I’m going to give Tyler a biiiiig kiss!”

At first he made little comments like “stop flirting, you two” whenever you both were laughing at something and simply having fun.

Then it was the suggestive winks and nudges which were attempts to direct your attention to one another in a more romantic light (which was obviously to no use).

He once made a remark about how you never date anyone or ever have a boyfriend and you promptly came out saying, “It’s hard to date when I’m head over heels for Tyler”. You’d responded so casually that the Martin brother had almost laughed it off, but he quickly realised what you'd just admitted to.

Why weren’t you embarrassed? Was it sarcasm? You didn’t acknowledge your response at all, not even a single movement to indicate how you were feeling.

This all led him to that moment. The moment where he spent every waking hour tormented having to watch the both of you as clueless and ignorant as the other, like children lost at the grocery store looking for your parents.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” he asked for maybe the fourth or fifth time this week.

“Nah I’m good”.

Of course that was your response. Of course you acted like you didn’t care. Of course you wouldn’t be willing to even take a chance, to believe one of her friends, one of Hook’s closest friends. He considered giving up, but for some reason he felt like he was their cupid, the one to shoot the arrow for two of his very good friends.

“Alright then”, he replied.

You expected Dante to declare that the end of his attempt to make a fool out of you, however, he still hadn’t left the table and continued to stare at you, almost trying to study you.

Feeling the eyes piercing into you, you looked up from your phone again, them not having left the screen for the whole encounter.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but when are you going to stop?” you asked, tired of being asked the same questions religiously.

“Stop what?”

“Trying to make me and Tyler a thing”.

Dante rolled his eyes and shook his head in comprehension. Did you even hear yourself?

“When you both realise you’re in love with each other”.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’ll never happen. He’s not interested”.

You wanted to enjoy your lunch in peace and apparently that wasn’t going to happen here so you stood up and started collecting your things. He never meant to annoy you; he wanted quite the opposite, trying to make you happy with the person you’d liked for so long, but the frustration from not being able to get through to you was starting to drive him crazy.

“I give up. I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t with you. You’re impossible!”

You gaped at the hypocrisy, taking offence.

It was true. You had a uh… shy liking towards the hooded man who mostly kept to himself, ‘shy liking’ being a major understatement. You were very good friends… that’s all… and that was your problem. You didn’t let it get the better of you hence why you constantly brushed it off whenever Dante brought up the subject. It was easier to ignore the feelings and let everyone live their happy single lives than pine over a stupid boy like some teenage girl.

“I’m impossible?! Try talking to a guy who’s never shown any interest in you and then have another friend insist that he’s crazy for you”.

You turned your back to him and walked out of the catering room in an attempt to find a more private space to finish your lunch.

So that ‘s what the problem was, huh? Hook just wasn’t showing enough interest in you.

Dante sat there, head in hands, desperately trying to think of his next approach. He knew he should stop pestering you because he didn’t want to damage the friendship you’d made over the years, but he was way too committed to the whole stupid cupid act to give up then.

He’d have to speak to Hook.

—

“Y/N likes you”.

Similar to how you were before, Tyler was hunched over his manspread legs, staring at his phone, his posture and hoodie being his only recognisable properties as his face was almost completely hidden by his hood.

“Yeah, right”, he replied, eyes not leaving his phone. He, too, had experienced countless of Dante’s naggings.

Dante - who was standing directly in front of him - crossed his arms and readjusted his footing, knowing this conversation would be as hopeless as all the others.

“What makes you think that she doesn’t?”

“She likes Ethan Page”.

Wha…? Where the hell did that come from?

He was quick to respond. “She doesn’t even talk to Ethan Page”.

“All the women here like Ethan Page”.

“...alright then”.

As quickly as the conversation had started, Dante Martin walked away, unable to understand what exactly had just happened.

Had she ever even spoken to Ethan Page?

He got to the end of the hall and stopped dead in his tracks, finally realising that Hook had just been trying to cause confusion so he’d leave. Great. Very clever.

He twisted his head to glance at his friend who was looking back at him, a smirk spread across his face which turned into a snicker as he went back to concentrate on whatever was on his phone.

This would take a lot more effort than he was currently putting in. If he really wanted his two friends to be happy, he would have to be a lot smarter than simply telling them the truth. Apparently, honesty was not as reliable as it should be.

—

You were inside the locker room, doing some quick stretches before your upcoming match, Dante standing a few feet in front of you, but this time not to convince you of Tyler’s feelings, strangely.

“I’m not going”, you said straight.

“It’s only a little blind date. My treat. It’ll help you get your mind off Tyler”.

He knew he was pushing his luck asking you to agree to go on a date with a complete stranger, but it was vital for her to accept for his dastardly plan to go ahead.

“I don’t need help, but I do need to go to my match”.

You attempted to pass him but he swooped his body in front of yours at the last second second, preventing you from leaving. You could have sworn this was classed as harassment.

“Just one date tomorrow. If you’re still not happy after twenty minutes then text me and I’ll call you pretending there’s an emergency so you can leave”.

You really did not want to go out on a date as there simply wasn’t any time for it in your schedule. Didn’t he know you had a very successful wrestling career to keep up? Perhaps if you had more time to think about it, you would have come to understand that Dante was hiding some sort of trick up his sleeve, however, in a rush to get to your match which was starting in 15 minutes, your brain took in every word at face value.

“Ugh fine. One date. But I swear, if I turn up and he’s holding a bouquet of red roses and uses the words ‘ladies first’, I’m doing a 180 and sprinting out of there”.

His lips turned into a victorious smile. “You won’t be disappointed”.

Now it was Hook’s turn.

—

Hook would be easy to convince. Dante knew exactly what would sway him.

“Heeeyyy how about a date tomorrow night?”

Hook was taken aback by the question and stared with a shocked look plastered over his face.

“No no no!” Dante scrounged for a clarification. “Not with me, dude. With a girl I know. It might make you feel better”.

The questioning look he once gave had now been shaken off. “Fuck that”.

“Come on, I’m paying for the whole thing. And if you don’t like it I’ll take you to a strip club and pay for everything”.

Hook considered his options very briefly. A blind date that could potentially turn into love, and if that fails, he gets a chick’s ass to make the ‘heartbreak’ all better. Works either way.

“When and where?”

Dante mentally smirked in deviousness and satisfaction. He knew he had won.

—

You only had thirty minutes to get yourself ready for your date, so heavy makeup wasn’t exactly an option like it usually would be for going out. You chose to wear a F/C satin mini dress that hugged your waist, kept up with stringed straps that tied on the top of your shoulders. You decided to show yourself off a little and not take the modesty approach you normally take with your baggy hoodies and leggings you wear around backstage.

Your date would be in for a treat, that was for sure.

You took a taxi to the restaurant Dante told you to be at and sprayed yourself with perfume a couple of times and made sure you looked presentable before opening the door to the place. You might as well try and make some sort of an effort.

You knew that you weren’t meant to be excited about this date - and honestly, you weren’t all that much - but you thought about what Dante had told you about trying to get over Hook. Maybe it was time you got yourself out there and date someone because your chances with him weren’t exactly looking good.

“Hi, I’m Y/N L/N. I’m supposed to be meeting someone”, you told the lady who greeted you.

“Of course. Someone’s already paying for your dinner tonight, correct?”

You nod. “Right this way”.

You weaved around tables of seemingly happy couples (you didn’t know about their personal problems) and past booths of families with rowdy children until you were stopped at one of the tables for two.

Your eyes travelled from their chest that leaned forward into the table and his elbows resting on the surface, to the ties of their light grey hoodie, one being twiddled with his fingers. Then you saw the sharp, well-defined jawline that had quietly driven you crazy for the past 3 years. Your eyes finally reached his cold ones that peered into your own.

He must’ve been as surprised as you were.

You thanked the lady and sat down opposite to Hook, who swiftly scanned your body before it was hidden by the table. With any luck, he’d be able to get a closer look later. He figured it was best if he didn’t mention that he could’ve gone to a strip club, not wanting to put you off, and ultimately preferring the date over anything else.

“This…” you began. “...is definitely not what I expected”.

“Can’t say I’m complaining”, Tyler said, glancing at the only part of the dress visible to him which just so happened to be where your breasts were. Coincidence? Could have been, but probably not.

“Did you know about this?” You ignored the butterflies that flew in your stomach caused by his teasing and leaned into the table slightly as to whisper your question. It wouldn’t have made a difference, of course, as no one around you would have cared why you were here.

“No. Dante told me to come here for a blind date”.

Dante, you sneaky prick.

“He said the same to me!” You avoided the few strange looks that were shot across to you for raising your voice. “So uhh what now?”

You tried to cover the blush that had risen in your cheeks with a hand, having no knowledge whether it was actually effective or not.

“Make the most of a free dinner I guess”, Tyler chuckled, making you feel a lot more comfortable about the situation. “You’d better be hungry because we’re going for the most expensive of everything. Let’s bleed him dry”.

You thought it was hilarious that Hook wanted to take advantage of Dante’s good deed, even if it was plastered in deceit. You wanted to believe he was joking about ordering the most expensive options, but you wouldn’t put it past the man to take the opportunity for the upper hand, and you certainly wouldn’t say no to a good meal.

“I can get behind that”, you took a look at the menu, immediately spotting your choice of weapon. “I think the seventy dollar steak has my name written all over it”.

“That’s the spirit”. Your eyes met in sync and you found yourselves unintentionally exchanging smirks.

“Seriously, though. What steak is that expensive?”

“Good ones”.

“It better be”.

Throughout the night, the two of you - not only having drained your friend’s bank account - had more fun than either ever had before or could ever imagine. You somehow ended up playing footsies under the table and the occasional knee collided with the roof of it, resulting in some snobby couple next to you giving you both disgusted looks, glancing at your legs. They must have thought you were trying to pull off some Fifty Shades Of Grey shit.

You decided to order a sharing dessert platter which was a lot more romantic and cliche than you’d anticipated, which was bizarre for you because you absolutely despised all of the date cliches. They just made you cringe and they got boring after experiencing the same things time and time again.

And why was this time different? Because you were with Hook. You were with Tyler. You knew him and you knew he didn’t give a crap about giving you a bunch of flowers or trying to please you by being someone he’s not. All he cared about was that he was happy, you were happy, and you both were having a great time. That’s all you needed.

After eating one of the chocolate dipped waffle pieces and stopping yourself from moaning in delight at the amazing mouthgasm it gave you, Tyler sent you an amused look.

“What is it?” you asked, licking the chocolate that dripped onto your fingers because you didn’t bother trying to act classy by using one of the skewers. Elegance was overrated.

“You have chocolate all around your mouth”.

You immediately began to lick your lips, imagining how much of a child you must have looked.

“It’s still everywhere”, he snickered at your frustrated face as you tried to lick it all away. How much chocolate could be on your face anyway?

You gave up and reached to grab a napkin when Hook’s hand grabbed your wrist so you couldn’t lift it to your mouth. The entire time, practically peering into your soul.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“What would you do if I licked the rest of the chocolate off so you don’t have to?”

You felt your heart thump and you felt it might leap out of your chest, the inflamed feeling of the skin contact on your wrist rapidly circulating around your entire body.

“Didn’t take you to be a guy who’s into food play”. You enjoyed teasing him. He let out yet another low chuckle and released your wrist, you instinctively rubbing the area he was holding, only now realising how tight his grip was and how much you enjoyed it.

“Here”, he said whilst grabbing the napkin you were originally reaching for and wiping the chocolate you’d missed around your mouth. It was sweet. Cliche but sweet.

After finishing your meals, you decided to share a taxi to the hotel you were both staying at, and spent the entire five minute journey talking about how blind you both had been.

“So basically, you’re so cool that I mistook it for you simply not being interested in me?” you asked, finally realising where you’d gone wrong all this time.

“If that’s how you want to see it. I always knew you had a thing for me”.

“Oh fuck off”, you laughed off, playfully nudging his arm. “You were as oblivious as I was”.

“Maybe. But you didn’t make it easy”.

“I didn’t make it easy? Maybe if you’d looked at me every once in a while then you would’ve seen me looking back”.

Tyler set a small smile and wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you closer, his hand fitting perfectly in the crescent of your waist.

Screw seatbelts, right?

“It doesn’t matter now”, he told you. “And we can thank Dante for that of all people”.

You did feel a little guilty for not believing Dante for all the times he told you that Hook was into you, which sounded like you were back in high school and your friends were gossiping about their latest crush that were ‘totally into them’ - except they weren’t.

“We’re getting revenge on him, right?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, baby. No doubt”.

—

Dante was thrilled that you hadn’t messaged him to get you out of the date with Hook - not that he thought you would once you’d seen who your blind date was. So when Collision came about, he was ready to tease you both and gloat at how right he’d been all along.

The first person he crossed paths with was Hook who was sitting on the steps that led to the backstage entrance to the elevated seating. As per usual, he had his earpods in and was snacking on a bag of chips. He’d probably benefit from going outside once in a while.

He looked to see who had sat next to him, tilting his head upon greeting his friend, Hook’s mind going over the plan you and him had formed at the door of your hotel room before you uh… got to know each other a little more than you already did.

“So…”, Dante began with a sly grin formed upon his face. “Did you like her?”

Hook looked away, scrunching his face in the process. “She was alright I guess. A bit awkward. Personally, not my type”.

Dante’s face dropped, all previous hope completely drained away.

How? He was fucking in love with her the other day. What the hell happened?

“But you said you liked her”.

Hook’s face twisted in confusion. “When did I say that? I’d never even met her”.

Oh no. Oh shit. This can’t be happening.

With a long sigh, Dante’s hands covered and rubbed at his face, hoping that what he thought might have happened, didn’t.

“Please say we’re both talking about Y/N”.

“Y/N? No. The woman you set me up with. What was her name again? Dalia or Delia or something like that”.

An frustrated groan left Dante’s throat and he leaned back, ignoring the jabbing feeling in his back from the stairs.

“I set you up with Y/N, man. What the fuck happened?” He wasn’t shouting, but there was a clear element of bitterness behind his words.

“I wish it was Y/N. At least then my date wouldn’t have tried to call the cops”.

Dante didn’t think his face could fall anymore, yet somehow he managed it. He was speechless. As much as he wished he could get up and leave, pretending none of this happened, he needed to know more.

“Tell me. What. Happened”.

Hook was unfazed by the irritation in his friend’s voice, and he casually continued eating his chips whilst retelling his version of the night’s events.

“Well, you see…”, he started, shuffling to make himself more comfortable. “The waitress took me to the table and I was there for like five minutes, man, and she didn’t turn up”.

Dante rolled his eyes at his impatience but continued to listen to his story.

“So like I turned around and saw a woman sitting at a table by herself so I must’ve been at the wrong table, and I went over to her, tried my best to be the gentleman I am but she was like… being a bitch”.

Yeeeaaahhh Dante didn’t believe that for a second. Hook being a gentleman? Some woman being a bitch for no reason? He wasn’t buying it.

…what did he do to that poor woman?

“And what exactly did you say to this woman?”

“Literally all I said was ‘this is awkward’ and she agreed, asked what I was doing and said her husband would be back any minute. Like, I swear she was alone the entire time I was in the restaurant. If she didn’t want to date me, she should’ve just said rather than coming up with some stupid fucking excuse like she didn’t know who I was”.

There was no way this was actually happening. He wasn’t this stupid… was he?

Dante wasn’t actually sure on that one. He knew he was a quiet, furtive man who usually kept to himself, and that he was incompetent enough to not realise how infatuated you were with him, but was it really that bad that he would harass a random woman in a crowded restaurant? Probably.

“Oh and the whole time I was there? No sign of any husband. Fucking lame excuse”.

Dante rubbed the corners of his eyes hoping he’d wake up from this strange dream he hoped he was having.

“So you left after that, right?” he asked.

“Sort of. After I tried to kiss her”.

The relieved sigh midway through was cut short and Dante thought he might have forgotten how to breathe, but sucked in a breath whilst shaking with anger.

“Why the hell would you try to kiss her if she said she wasn’t interested?!”

“Her story was bullshit, man! I thought she was playing hard to get but she tried to slap me”.

“Tried?”

“Obviously I wasn’t going to take that shit. Bitch was crazy. Where’d you even get her?”

Dante ignored his question - baffled by the complexity of the situation - and asked one of his own.

“And you didn’t see anyone there you knew?”

“Nah, man”.

“Got it”.

He now had a new mission - to find you and ask why you’d bailed out on the date. Hook’s story was far too in detail to be made up, and - in hindsight - he should have expected you to not turn up to the restaurant without any warning.

He didn’t turn back when Hook asked where he was going. He kept walking at his fast pace until he saw you outside the locker rooms, chatting to Anna Jay about God knows what.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care what you were talking about or even if either of you were talking when he walked right up to you and asked, “Why didn’t you go on the blind date?”

You shot him a look of shock and confusion causing Anna Jay to leave the both of you alone, much to your dismay.

“What are you talking about? I did and he didn’t show”. You crossed your arms and leant against the wall behind you, not thrilled at his interruption.

“That’s not possible because the person I set you up with was there and said that you never showed”.

“Well then we must have missed each other because I was there for ten minutes and he didn’t come”.

Dante felt dizzy with the number of times he’d rolled his eyes that day. You and Hook were just as impatient as the other, not bothering to wait a minute longer before declaring the unlikely as fact.

“What, so you just left after that then? Was that it? You didn’t even call me to tell me he wasn’t there?”

“Hey, I was going to wait. Ain’t no way was I going to skip out on dinner. I just got… distracted”.

Dante narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He could tell by the way you bit your lip and averted your eyes that you were hiding something.

“Distracted how?” he asked, slowly. You struggled to hide the smirk that begged to show on your face. You were relishing in the thought of lying through the skin of your teeth to him.

“I may or may not have been given a few… suggestive glances from a man a few tables along from mine, and I may or may not have met him in the restroom, and I may or may not have let him do me in front of the mirror… turns out he was married… ”

This was far worse than what Dante could have imagined, especially after the harassment story he got from Hook before coming here to find you. The both of you were going to get the biggest scolding of your lives and he planned to end the tension between you there and now.

“You had sex with a married man?” You nodded. “Did his wife not try to find him?”

“No. We were gone for like twenty minutes and I don’t even think she got up from the table”.

“But I would’ve thought you of all people wouldn’t stoop to such-”

Dante’s thoughts stopped him in his tracks and all the pieces of the puzzle very quickly came together.

The woman with the missing husband. The harassment. The married man with you for a while. It all made sense now. You must have entered the restaurant first, went to the back with the man, then Hook arrived and bothered the woman so she didn’t have an opportunity to look for her husband, and because he was with you, Hook thought she was lying.

In a twisted way, Dante was satisfied that he managed to solve the mystery like Sherlock Holmes as he now understood where you’d both gone wrong and could empathise slightly with both predicaments. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t utterly infuriated. After all, you were thick as shit and somehow slipped out of each other’s arms once again by some coincidence, but he could work with that now.

Without another word, Dante grabbed ahold of your wrist and began dragging you through the twists and turns of the backstage area, dodging and weaving through the many people rushing to get things ready before showtime. He was focused on his mission like Tom Cruise. He’d acquire many characters trying to pair the two of you together apparently.

You, however, could only think back to that mind-melting moment two nights ago when Tyler had grasped the exact wrist being held now. It was nothing like the grip that gave you that tingly feeling throughout your body, but you could still imagine.

You were pulled into one of the large entry hallways and came to register Dante’s plan when you caught a glimpse of the very person you had just been thinking about sitting on the steps.

So antisocial.

You let out a small yelp when flung in the direction of Hook, but you managed to catch yourself on the railing. Hook, now noticing the both of you, sent out sceptical looks before putting his stuff on the step next to him and pushing himself up to stand beside you.

“Alright”, Dante led, glancing back and forth between you both. “I didn’t think it would come to this, but now we have to talk about how you destroyed some happy couple’s marriage”.

You expertly acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about just so he could keep going to see how long you’d be able to carry the lie out for. Oh, how pleased you were.

“I set this blind date up for the two of you and the fact that you by some means ruined a nice relationship instead and not see how smitten you are for one another is beyond my comprehension. You’re both insufferable”.

“It couldn’t have been that good of a marriage if he was willing to have sex with me”, you chimed in. Why not make it a little worse?

He continued to rant about his own struggles and how he’s tried to help this entire time but neither of you care blah blah blah. In all honesty, you forgot he was talking a few seconds into his rambling.

You felt a touch on the small of your back before curling around your waist like it had done in the taxi and you turned your head, making instant eye contact with Tyler who you’d been texting non-stop since that night. You weren’t officially official by any means, but you could tell you were only a few intimate moments away from it finally happening. You did things that night. Beautiful, magical things.

You reciprocated his affection with your head resting on his shoulder, Dante not having caught on to you as he was too busy pacing back and forth, ranting about how bad he felt for the ‘married couple’ you destroyed.

“This was worth it”, you whispered close to Tyler’s ear. He didn’t meet your gaze but he did break into a small smile.

“This was only meant to be a little matchmaking. How could it go so horribly wrong?” Dante finally turned his attention to yours and Hook’s close proximity. “And here I am freaking out because you’ve fucked up and you can’t even keep your hands off each other… oh… you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

You gave him a wide smile and nodded, making yourself more comfortable against Hook’s side.

This time when Dante’s face dropped for the millionth time (it had practically fallen on the floor now), it was in shame, disbelief that he actually fell for your lies. It made no sense. He helped you get together and that’s how you repay him? In that moment, he finally accepted that there was no way he would ever understand the way you both functioned.

Hook, taking advantage of the stand-still the three of you were in, slipped his arm away from your waist and intimidatingly strutted toward the Top Flight guy, coming almost nose-to-nose with him. You all knew he was joking when he fisted the top of Dante’s hoodie and said in a low grunt, “Next time you try and fuck with me or Y/N, we can take this to the ring. Understood?”

Oh, that was hot.

You heard the Brooklyn accent in his threat and it drove you crazy; you were melting at his feet with how flustered you were.

“Yeah yeah I get it, man. Don’t worry”, he replied, brushing off his hand. “I’m just happy my plan worked”.

“I’d apologise to you but you did meddle in something that you shouldn’t have”, you told him, pleased you were able to get your own back on him.

“It was either that or wait for you both to get stupidly drunk to confess”.

You squinted and shared a similar look with Tyler. “Actually, I would’ve preferred that”.

Hook nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I probably would’ve been down for that”.

“Why, though? You know what? It doesn’t matter. I won”. He raised his hands in the air and turned to walk out the door before you could say anything more.

In the doorway, Dante thought he might try and edge another word in there and give you a smug ‘your welcome’, but when he turned toward where you two were standing he uh… decided otherwise and gave you some privacy instead.

…

…you guys were already having a heated make out session.

He wasn’t exactly about to interrupt that. He got people together, not watch them thrive.

Strolling through the ins and outs of backstage, Dante felt sort of lost, like his only source of entertainment whilst waiting for a match or an interview was gone. Who would he set up now?

Then he saw her.

“Hey, Kris!” he called, receiving a warm smile in return. “How do you feel about a certain Orange?”

THE END.

#hook aew #hook x reader #aew #aew fanfiction #hook x you #hook x y/n #hook fanfiction #hook imagine #all elite wrestling #reader insert #dante martin

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salamivx · 4 months

Text

CUPIDS ARROW

MASTERLIST >

Other masterlists

@viannasthings (Sorry it took me a while to make I was busy with other requests.)

Lucifer Morningstar x F! Cupid! Reader

warning. the word pornstar(s) been used a few times.

(Not proofread)

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

I was back in the courtroom the very same place where I watched Lucifer and his love fall from grace,I wish I had more time to tell him I loved him but I knew how much he loved Lilith, and as the cupid I couldn’t get in the way of their love.

But here I am back in the courtroom watching as the princess of heaven herself and her girlfriend try to explain why sinners should be redeemed, and it may seem stupid to all the other angels but to me I wanted to help, I knew about the extermination as Adam had slipped up in front of me and I truly feel bad about the mortal souls down there.

After they sang Adam opened a portal that sucked them back to hell as Emily yelled out something like she would find a way to help them, this was already a pain to me but I felt sympathy towards the princess all she wanted was to help her people but she was turned down quickly.

Arriving to my room I plop down on my bed thinking about what happened in the courtroom again, what if I went to hell myself and helped her? I got up as I scurried to my closet taking a book out opening it I turned to each and every page to look for a spell to open a portal to hell.

After finding the spell I did what it said, being blinded by the light for a second I wince as I shield my eyes before getting used to it, looking inside the portal I could see the realm of hell, stepping in I stared in awe at the red sky as the portal closed behind me the portal book in my hands.

Looking around I noticed the billboard about the Hazbin Hotel looking at it I knew where it was.

Walking in front of the hotels doors I knock three times before I hear yelling and people running around before the door flew open revealing the princess of hell her girlfriend the pornstar that was shown in the courtroom the rest I don’t know and then Lucifer.

Wait?! Lucifer?! I lock eyes with Lucifer as Charlie’s voice was incoherent to me, “ [Reader]? ” Lucifer whimpers as he pushed past his daughter to stand in front of me I looked at him with shock my mouth an agape, “ Lucifer! ” I yell out wrapping my hands around his torso “ [Reader] what are you doing here your supposed to be in heaven, unless? ” “ No no I didn’t fall from heaven I came down here myself. ” I say reassuringly before another voice chimed in.

“ HEY! You’re that girl that was in the courtroom! ” “ What’s an Angel doin’ down ‘ere anyway? ” A spider demon appearing beside Charlie, ohh the pornstar I thought in my mind.

“ Charlie everyone this is my old friend before I fell from grace. ” Lucifer introduced me to his friend and daughter as they all waved at me. “ So what are you doing where anyways? ” Lucifer tilted his head at me, “ I’m here to help Charlie in redeeming sinners. ” I smile and turn to Charlie that had stars in her eyes while jumping up and down with excitement.

“ OMG OMG!! VAGGIE!! ” Charlie then turned around to Vaggie and shook her shoulders “ AN ANGEL WANTS TO HELP US!!! ” Charlie yells with excitement while Vaggie just patted her girlfriend’s hands and kissed her forehead, “ I’m happy we’re getting help but maybe we should let the two catch up with each other. ” Vaggie smiles a bit as she turns to me and Lucifer as the other walk back to where they were earlier.

Me and Lucifer turn to each other as me begin to converse, “ So you got married to Lilith? That’s nice but where is she? ” I tilt me head out of curiosity looking down at the ring on his finger, “ Ah, me and Lilith we split. ” My eyes widened “ Oh sorry for asking I didn’t know! ” I panicked a bit before being reassured but Lucifer “ No no it’s fine really it’s was a long time ago. So what have you been doing while I was gone? ”

“ Well you know just normal cupid stuff going around the human and heavens realm making people fall in love boring things like that. ” I shrug my shoulders in response crossing my arms and sighing “ It’s honestly a pain in the ass doing it everyday on repeat. ” “ Well you sure weren’t like this when you first became cupid. ”

I scoff playfully “ Well people change I guess. “ I say shrugging my shoulder while smiling at him, man did I miss him a lot I’m glad I came down here to help Charlie.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #female reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel charlie

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akesdraws-blog · 3 months

Text

I love you, but I know you don't love me back

Version: 🐢TMNT 2012🐢

❀Sometimes the problem is usually that the heart does not want to admit something that the mind knows and screams with all its might.❀

Sometimes we need a little bit of a bittersweet taste, cupid doesn't always shoot his arrows at both of us, sometimes he has some missed shots.

💙 Leonardo 💙

As well as a great leader, Leo is also an incredible gentleman.

But he never expected that such chivalry would cause a greater emotion than just kindness.

He will quickly notice some behaviors that were familiar from things he even did.

• Showing off for him

• The attention

• Overprotection

• Taking his side even if it was wrong

Attitudes like this did not go unnoticed.So don't expect a big stage or a rodeo.

He will be direct and just like a bandage on the skin, he will tear it off in one movement.

“If I'm misunderstanding, I apologize, but otherwise, I'd like to set the record straight, I'm only attracted to one person, and she's an amazing kunoichi, not just in combat, but also in my heart.”

That's right, don't expect anything more.

Make things clear and try not to be so rude.

He still hopes that they can remain friends despite everything.

He will accompany you home, and say goodbye as they always have.

But even if you close the window, he will stay in the shadows, listening to the soft sound of your sobbing.

He will hurt deep in your heart, he knows it, but he also knows it is for the best.

If your heart understands the pain sooner, it will take less time to heal.

~“The rain falls because the clouds can no longer support the weight. Tears fall because the heart can no longer bear the pain.”~

💜 Donatello 💜

Our silly genius is always making a new invention for his brothers and his friends.

After all that's your best way to show that someone cares.

Although it is no secret to anyone that Donnie is in love with April.

However, since what happened with Bigfoot, let's say that he now understands more things quickly.

But just as he doesn't usually reciprocate, he understands what you feel.

He may explain everything while you are helping him with an invention or while you play a video game.

“I... Don't take this the wrong way but... You know how I feel about April... And you know how she feels about me... I just want to say... I feel the same about you, as I do, what April feels for me... It sounds weird, I know, but... I hope you understand."

He doesn't try to be rude, he tries to be nice but he gets quite nervous.

He doesn't want his friendship to go down the drain, so if you don't say anything he might get a little chatty.

If you tell him that she's fine and that you just need a moment alone, he'll give it to you.He knows you have to process it.

He will still send you some message, just to know that everything is okay.

He will understand even if you don't appear in the sewer for a while, he will give you the space you need.

~“Love is not blind. Blind are those who run after those who do not love them.”~

~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~

We arrive with something a little sad, because sometimes we also need a dose of slight sadness. (I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes) In case you missed it: Mikey/Raph

Tags:

@turtle-babe83. @dilucsflame33. @thelaundrybitch. @scholastic-dragon. @leosgirl82. @tmnt-tychou . @little-bunny-in-space . @happymoonangel. @lazyafgurl. @kikithedreamerwriter. @androidships007.

#tmnt fandom #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt leonardo #teenage mutant ninja turtles #heartbreak #unrequited love #leo tmnt #donnie tmnt #donatello 2012 #leonardo 2012

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

In all the love songs Keith has heard (and he’s heard many, both his Pa and Shiro were big ballad fans), he’s always heard laughter described as angelic.

That’s how it is. Over and over again. When you fall in love with someone, when cupid’s arrow strikes, their laughter will be like musical bells, like windchimes, melodic and beautiful and entrancing, and you will never want to hear anything else.

Lance sounds like a hyena on crack when he laughs.

Keith is obsessed with it.

The love ballads got one half of it right, he supposes. He does shut the fuck up and listen when Lance laughs. It is like the only sound he can hear.

It’s just not…musical.

“Your sighs get any dreamier and he’s going to hear you,” Shiro says idly, colouring his nails with Sharpie.

Keith drops his chin from his hands, turning away from where he was watching Lance laugh with Hunk and Allura and scowling at his asshole brother. “He is not.”

Shiro snickers, not even bothering to look up. Keith wonders if it’s morally acceptable to smack the shit out of someone with only one arm, or if Shiro will call foul and convince everyone that Keith is somehow the asshole here.

“Is so. You’re so besotted that even I’m embarrassed for you, and I usually just laugh when you’re being humiliating.”

Keith decides that the potential reputation tarnishing is worth it.

“Ow!” Shiro cries, clutching his flesh arm with way more drama than necessary. “My arm!” He glances over at the scattered stares he receives, from various uniformed officers, and pitches his voice louder to get more attention. “My only remaining human arm!”

“Keith, stop trying to kill your brother,” Coran admonishes. “He’s sensitive.”

Shiro shoots him the tiniest smirk before returning to his fake pout. Keith’s jaw drops in indignation. “Wh — he antagonized me — it’s not my — Coran!”

Coran only raises his eyebrows. “Is there a problem, Number Three, or shall I get your mother involved?”

Pidge makes an obnoxious oooooooooh sound, wiggling her eyebrows at him, because she and Shiro are the worst, actually, and for good measure Coran is too.

“I hate this family,” Keith mutters, sinking into his seat. “All of you suck.”

“Okay, emo boy,” Shiro says patronizingly.

Unfortunately, Iverson walks in and starts the Atlas briefing before Keith can smack him again. He settles for glaring at his dumbass brother, who sticks his tongue out at him like the toddler he is, and then vows to pay attention to the meeting. He is the black paladin, after all.

He lasts four whole minutes.

It’s not his fault. If anything it’s Iverson’s fault. The meeting is boring as hell, and a quick glance around the meeting table shows that the only person paying attention is the note-taking robot Pidge made, and that doesn’t even count ‘cause it’s a robot. Several senior officers are outright sleeping. The MFE pilots are quietly passing around a game of dots. Hunk has blatantly pulled out an engineering project of his and is working on it in full and total view of Iverson (he still hates the man for what he did to Lance when they were cadets, claiming that since Lance has forgiven him, someone needs to hold a grudge). Pidge and Matt seem to be communicating in Morse code. Allura is directing her mice in some kind of acrobatic performance, and Coran is helping her. Shiro is trying to see how many spitballs he can land on Iverson’s blind side before he notices (he’s riding the line with 34). Lance is staring at Keith.

Lance is staring at Keith?

He startles when he meets Lance’s brown eyes, but Lance only smiles, wiggling his fingers in a little wave. Keith tilts his head in confusion, trying to wordlessly ask Lance why he’s staring, and also manage to keep his rapidly creeping blush under control.

(He likes it when Lance stares at him).

Lance squeezes his eyes shut instead of answering, and a moment later Keith feels a prodding in the back of his mind; a familiar presence, hot and fiery and all-encompassing.

Red.

He lets her in, lets her familiar feeling envelop his mind. She struts primly in his mindscape, nosing at Black as if to say I was here first, so just remember who’s boss.

Black lets her prance around with fond amusement.

Before Keith can ask her why she’s pushed her way through — not that he minds, he’s happy to have her, but she hasn’t felt the need to visit him in a while so he’s curious — he feels another presence almost knock on his subconscious, request access to his mindscape.

Red has…brought someone else?

Can she do that?

Red looks at him flatly, like his doubt is a personal offence. Before she can start admonishing him, the presence pushes again; not urgent, but insistent, almost as if someone is knocking on the door of Keith’s mind and doesn’t want to be ignored.

Beyond curious, Keith lets them in.

The second Keith opens his mental door, it’s like they rush in, flowing in like the white rapids of a river, strong and fast and excited, cool and bubbly. There’s so much of them that it takes Keith a good couple of minutes to conceptualise just who exactly has followed Red into Keith’s mind. The rushing water takes shape into a person; tall, gangly, broad-shoulders with a mop of curly brown hair and bright brown eyes, freckles spotted over their nose and grin wide and sparking.

Keith gapes.

“Lance?!”

“Is everything alright, Kogane?”

Keith blinks open his eyes to find the entire meeting table staring at him, expressions ranging from confused to knowing to outright teasing. He realises all of a sudden that he’s spoken aloud, and not only spoken but called Lance’s name out, loudly, for seemingly no reason, in the middle of a crowded meeting.

His face flames.

“All is well,” he chokes out. “Please carry on.”

Iverson narrows his eyes at him for a moment, but eventually shakes himself and continues. Keith stays bright red for several minutes, staring pointedly down at the table, ignoring the various sniggers he can hear with every ounce of his effort. Unfortunately, some of the teasing laughter is inside his actual literal brain, what the fresh fuck, so it’s a fruitless endeavour.

Are you still freaking out? the Lance inside his head (???) asks.

What in the gall brained fuck is going on, Keith thinks back at it, looking at Real Lance in a decent mix of panic, confusion, and the actual phonetic sound that an exclamation point mixed with a question mark makes in your brain. Real Lance has his eyes closed, brows creased in concentration, and the tiniest of smirks pulling up at his lips.

Close your eyes and meditate, doofus, Mind Lance tells him. I’m using a lot of energy right now so I don’t have the space to try and reign you up here.

Despite the fact that Keith is so confused that a thousand professors could not explain his current situation to him in any way that makes sense, he listens, closing his eyes tightly and visualizing his physical bond with Black, like he does when he flies. It helps him sink into the semi-astral plane of existence, usually so he can meld with his lion and the rest of the team when they’re forming Voltron, but whenever he’s trying to reach his own mindscape, too. He’s still aware of his physical body, he’s not quite projected out of it, but he’s not wholly in it, either. Most of his essence is focused on seeing as his mind sees, without the constraints of the physical plane.

“Took you long enough,” Lance huffs.

“What the fuck,” Keith responds.

He packs quite a lot of questions into that what the fuck, he thinks. Like ‘what the fuck are you doing here’, for starters. Or ‘what the fuck just happened with the water and Red and everything else’, if he wants to be specific. Or, if he really just wants to cover everything, ‘what the fuck is happening’ might just do it.

“Your internal monologue fascinates me,” Lance informs him.

Keith flushes. (Does he flush in his mindscape? Does he have the blood and physical body necessary in order to flush? Or is he just embarrassed, so his perception of himself is blushing because that’s the only way he knows how to conception use the feeling? God, Voltron magic shit is so weird. Keith lowkey misses mapping energies alone in the desert and wondering if he was delusional.)

“Stop hearing my internal monologue,” he orders.

Lance pouts. “You’re no fun. I want to hear all the juicy gossip you think about me because you’re too emotionally stunted to say it.”

Lance is only joking, Keith knows he is. He’s leaned forward slightly, like he always does when he’s teasing, and his smile is close-mouthed, unserious.

But Keith of course panics anyway.

A million snapshots of Lance flash through his mind — Lance laughing, head thrown back, barely holding himself up; Lance dancing around the briefing room at two in the morning as he plans a mission; Lance with his tongue stuck out of his mouth, concentrating hard on tiny knitting needles and tiny little mouse-sweaters; Lance with tears shining in his eyes, glancing at a projection of Earth, long before they finally made it home; Lance dirty and hurt, cradled to his chest as Keith runs him too a pod after Sendak. A thousand moments of Lance when Keith was fondest of him, when just looking at him made the ballads Keith grew up with play in his head.

He hurries to shove the memories in an obscure corner of his head and prays that Lance doesn’t see them.

“Can you actually hear my thoughts,” Keith asks, a little desperately.

Lance waves a dismissive hand. “Nah. I get emotional impressions, but that’s about it. I can’t even see anything in here expect you and Red, basically. And Black. Hi, Black!” He waves excitedly to the lion, who sits regally in the dead centre of Keith’s mindscape. She turns to the red paladin in amusement, nodding her head once. Lance beams.

Keith feels a rush of fondness for him so potent it makes his heart hurt, a little.

“Woah,” Lance says, looking at him a little wide-eyed. “I felt that, Willie Nelson. Holy softie.”

“How and why are you here,” Keith says, blatantly changing the subject and not giving even one single shit about being subtle about it. Lance is looking at him too closely.

Luckily, Lance indulges him, or is too excited about being here in general to resist talking about it.

“Isn’t it so cool?” he gushes. “I’ve been working on it with Red for ages! I figured since we all have that emotional bond with each other and the lions during Voltron, and we keep our lion bonds outside of Voltron, we should be able to communicate with each other outside of Voltron, too. Red wasn’t sure if it was possible but she helped me try, and I figured I’d try with you first because it would be the easiest, since we’re so close and all. And you’re more likely to let me in your head.”

He says it so matter-of-factly. Like it’s obvious that they are so close, and that Keith loves him so much that he wouldn’t mind Lance in his head, not really.

The worst part is that he’s right.

With anyone else, this would feel like an invasion of space. Keith would be defensive immediately, angry even, throwing them right the hell out of his head and yelling at them as he does it.

But with Lance?

He’s a little shocked, sure. And worried, that Lance is going to see all the parts of him that Keith isn’t ready yet to show him; the parts that he doesn’t yet know how to say, how to show. The parts of Keith that soften every time Lance smiles at him, the parts that light up with gleeful competition whenever Lance eggs him on, the parts that chafe and ache but smooth over when Lance sits with him quietly when he’s hurting.

Keith knows that Lance knows that he loves him. He doesn’t exactly hide it. He’s not sure he would, even if he could.

But he’s not ready to tell him. Not yet.

He takes a deep breath. (Or whatever the mindscape equivalent is).

He knows Lance won’t go looking.

“And you decided to pull this telepathy shit in the middle of a random meeting?” Keith teases, allowing some of the worry to slip away.

This is, after all, cool as shit, even if it’s weird.

“It’s not an important meeting!” Lance defends. “It’s boring, and I needed entertainment! Besides, Pidge’s bot will give us all the notes anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. Slacker. Some right hand man you are.”

Keith spends the rest of the dead-boring meeting teasing and chatting with Lance in his mindscape, which is great because he both gets to mess with Lance, which is always a net positive, because he has the upper hand in his own head, and because he gets to look like he’s paying attention in the meeting and actually be completely checked out.

“Oh, hey, I think the meeting’s ending,” Lance says. “I can hear Iverson winding down a bit.”

“Time to get out of my head then, you squatter?”

Lance rolls his eyes, waving to Red to get her attention. She stalks over, nosing him in the head like a mother cat to her kitten. Lance bats her away. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll head out. But only because I’m not practiced enough at this thing, so if I stay in your head it’ll look like I’m frozen or something. Once I figure out how to look normal and still beam my thoughts into your head, you’re never going to be without me even once in your life.”

Lance is teasing again. Keith can tell. But still, he’s totally helpless to stop what comes out next.

“I’d be okay with that.”

He sounds so besotted he wants to smack himself. But before he can even have the space to be embarrassed, he feels a wave of emotions that aren’t his — Lance’s, from the other end of their connection, a mix of embarrassment and selfish pleasure so thick that Keith can feel it even though they’re in Keith’s mindscape.

His jaw drops.

Lance wants Keith’s undivided attention. He’s preening over it.

“I gotta go,” Lance says hastily. “Uh, meeting ending and everything.”

Before Keith can so much as stop him, he feels the same strange feeling as before, the cool, rushing water of a river, only this time it’s flowing out of of his head rather than into it. Lance has retreated hastily from his mindscape, and Red follows, much slower and much more smug, visibly laughing at her paladin.

When Keith opens his eyes again, Lance is bright red, and won’t meet his eyes.

Keith smiles. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s not quite ready to spill his guts.

———

part two

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oftenwantedafton · 5 months

Text

Quiver - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Goth Female Reader

Rating - Explicit

a little fluffy office sex smut for Valentine’s Day

Also also available on AO3

There’s no way you’ve been hired on merit alone.

Not looking like that, with your fishnet tights and short skirts and sheer blouses and dark makeup. Everything shaded ebony or a variant of it. It’s all so close to being on the verge of indecent while barely meeting the dress code requirements.

So Steve Raglan assumes this must have been a favor to someone. A relative of yours has an inside connection, getting you this part time job at the social services office for some extra cash while you manage your college courses. Another entry for your sparse resume to supplement your babysitting reference and that job at the coffee shop that you’d worked at the previous summer.

For some reason it’s you more often than not these days that guides the clients back to his office. He can hear the heavy tread of your Doc Martens all the way down the hall from the reception area. He smells your gum, sometimes, mixed berry or cinnamon. Watches the way you lazily blow a half hearted bubble, a thin stretch of the xylitol pushed between your white, white teeth against that dark crimson mouth. The hair you’d hastily pinned up is already coming undone. You’re wearing a choker today, the band of velvet drawing attention to the arch of your throat. The gum chewing is loud, sloppy, wet as you lead a nervous looking middle aged woman to his door. Everything so careless. There is no grace or delicacy here. You bend to retie the undone lace of one boot. The skirt is really much too short for that.

Steve clears his throat and struggles to focus on the individual seeking work across from him. There’s a rip in your tights today that’s driving him mad. Just below the hem of your skirt. In a sea of other openings in that daring weave of material he doesn’t know why that one haunts him so much. He imagines shoving his thumb through it, squeezing your thigh.

The image will not leave his mind and he spends his lunch break that day with the solid wood door to his office locked and the blinds on his solitary window overlooking the parking lot securely sealed before he fucks into his fist until he spills over his hand thinking about you bent over for him.

***

The winter drags on, but Raglan doesn’t mind it much. It’s a welcome precursor to the long, arid stretch of summer months ahead.

It’s nearly Valentine's Day. Red and pink decorations adorn the reception area. Cardboard cutouts of hearts and roses and cupids with bows and arrows, the quivers adorned with lace. Someone in the office always decorates for every holiday. It seems like a lot of effort for very little reward. He’s never been one for festivities or celebrating. He interacts with his coworkers as little as possible. It’s not that he’s not good with people; he could hardly do this profession if he wasn’t. He’s very good at reading people. He knows how to be polite and charming and charismatic. He knows how to feign empathy to extract the information he needs when he’s placing these applicants, sifting past the drama and the sob stories to determine what their qualifications are. He’s not interested in excuses, only outcomes. That’s why his wall is covered in accolades acknowledging his accomplishments and achievements. He’s run out of room for them now. There are several still sitting unframed in one of his desk drawers.

So it’s not a lack of skill that drives a wedge between himself and other people; more like a lack of interest. Most people aren’t worth investing time in. You, though. You’ve certainly caught his attention. And he’s caught you staring more than once, lingering at his door when you have no reason to. He thinks you might be developing a little crush. A small smile here, a flutter of lashes there. There’s something there, dormant, waiting.

The middle aged career counselor has never been anything but polite to you. And you’ve been, well, yourself. So the weeks have passed and there’s been no advancement of any type, no progress in your relationship, workplace or otherwise. You still are the main attraction of his fantasies when he needs to rub one out. It’s shifted from a sporadic event to more of a daily one. He really needs to do something decisive about this one way or another.

So there’s this silly holiday now. A plethora of gift choices. A box of chocolates is what he decides on. Traditional. A classic. Heart shaped box. He’d arrived at the office before anyone else. A card with your name printed on it in capital letters. It doesn’t even remotely resemble his typical cursive. He sets the box beside the keyboard you sit at. It feels like baiting a trap.

Probably because that’s exactly what he’s doing.

***

The morning progresses like any other. You lead the clients in, one after the other. You’re wearing the ripped fishnets today. There’s a crushed red velvet cami beneath the sheer black blouse. Your nails are black with little red hearts on them.

A client has cancelled last minute. You’ve come to inform him. One of the other women who works in reception calls out to you as she passes by. “Did you find out who they’re from yet?” You shake your head. There’s a silver heart dripping from the black lace choker at your throat that swings with the movement.

“What’s that?” So casually inquired. He turns in his swivel chair slightly.

You shake your head again. Your cheeks flush. You’ve already told him about the client cancelling. Something that could have been done over the phone. Yet you’re still hovering by the open door.

“Someone left me a box of chocolates. No one recognizes the writing on the card.”

“You have a secret admirer then? How romantic.” His teeth flash in a grin.

“You don’t…you don’t know who’s written this, do you?” You walk to the desk. You smell like jasmine today. The card is tucked into the waistband of the skirt. No pockets. You hand it to the seated man. It’s warm from the heat of your body. It makes him want to do terrible things to you.

“Hmmm.” He hums thoughtfully. There’s still a smile struggling to break free again, his lips twitching. He’s enjoying this. Seeing you so disarmed. All of that clomping around in your heavy boots and shrouding yourself in your dark colors won’t shield you from him. He’ll access the young woman beneath all of that. “I might.”

“Really?” You reach for the card. He taps the edge against his lips and your fingers drop uncertainly. That rent in your tights makes his mouth water. You’re so close to him. Probably the closest you’ve ever stood.

“Supposing,” he begins, “since I now have a half hour free and it’s nearly lunch time, you take your break now and we discuss it?”

You stare at him. He lifts his brows, waiting for a response.

“Okay,” you murmur.

The trap closes, the bait taken.

***

Steve waits patiently while you go inform the office manager you’ll be taking your lunch now.

Once again you’re hesitating at his office threshold, as if halted by some invisible forcefield.

“Shut it behind you, please.” A click as it draws closed. The career counselor stands and walks towards it, turning the lock.

He sees you swallow, the choker straining against your throat. He’s much taller than you; taller than most people. He looks down and you look up and it matches the images he’s created when he thinks of you on your knees in front of him.

You lick your painted lips. “So, you think you know who it is?” Still trying to be casual. To make it seem like this is anything other than what it is about to become.

“I don’t think. I know.” The amusement is gone from his features. His pale eyes are going dark, the pupils expanding with desire.

“Oh. I thought you said…” Your voice trails off when his hand sits against the side of your neck, tucked beneath your hair. He pushes you and you easily stumble against the door.

“Have you really no idea?”

Your lips are parted. Wicked ruby against the pure white. Temptation. He hears you breathing more rapidly. Lets his fingers thread up into the hair at the back of your head to pull your face upwards. A gasp.

“Well? I’m waiting for your answer.”

“It’s you…”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you…we’ve barely spoken.”

“Not using words, maybe.” He inhales and exhales deeply. “Would you like to try some more of that…nonverbal communication?”

You nod against the hand still holding you.

His mouth presses against yours. He does not bother with gentle kisses or a soft introduction of lips. There is no time for that and he has waited long enough for this moment. His tongue spears your lips and he tastes you for the first time. You’ve snuck one of the chocolates he’d gifted recently. Bittersweet dark and cherry cordial. You moan against his mouth. He presses his body into yours, so you can feel what you do to him. How crazy you make him.

Steve abruptly pulls away, clutching one of your hands and dragging you towards the desk. He sinks back into the chair and tossed his glasses on the desk before be finally surrenders to what he’s wanted to do for so long, pushing a thumb inside that inviting gape in your hosiery. His other hand disappears under your slit maxi skirt, wedging between your thighs, eliciting another whimper.

“Normally I am all for foreplay and drawing things out, but today is simply not going to be one of those days since we’re both on the clock, as it were.” Both hands now clutch the waistband of your tights and panties and he drags them down roughly until they rest rumpled somewhere around your knees. He thinks he’s made a least one new rent in those tights; at the very least made the previous opening even wider. Pretty soon they will be too indecent to wear in public at all. “Bend over,” he rasps, and you obey, resting your upper body on his desk. The wheels of the chair roll across the plastic mat shielding the carpet and he runs a hand over the curve of each cheek appreciatively. “Stance a little broader,” he urges, fingers dipping between your thighs to stroke along your sex. Another soft moan as your spread your legs further apart. His thumbs dig into your flesh as he separates your cheeks and drives his tongue inside of you.

The noise of pleasure that escapes is anything but soft this time and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle it. Steve pauses for a few heartbeats to see if anyone will come knocking. Apparently satisfied this is not the case, he begins eating you out in earnest. He loved eating pussy and yours is a particularly delicious specimen. He can still taste the remnants of soap from your shower that morning. Your own flavor, musky yet feminine. He could happily spend the half hour just like this, but he wants to fuck you and that’s exactly what he does next, standing up and unfastening his belt. Fly opened quickly and his cock pulled free. Rests it against one cheek. Breathing ragged. He makes sure you’re still muffling your voice before he eases into you. There’s a lot to take. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet.

As predicted you whine. The brace of fingers over your lips have slipped a bit. “So fucking tight. I love this wet pussy.” He pushes a little further. Another keen. “You can take it.” The hand curled around your hip tightens. A final shove. “There you go. Good girl.” A snug fit around his cock. Sheer bliss. He withdraws and thrusts back inside, your body jerking across the desk. Steve’s sweating already, teeth gritted. It has been far, far too long since he’s been bottomed out in some hot cunt like yours. No more test runs. He begins fucking into you roughly. Shoves the hem of his dress shirt impatiently out of the way so he can watch his cock saw in and out of you. He wishes he was recording this. You looked so fucking good bent over his desk. The little mewling, keening noises you’re making are driving him insane. “You like that, huh? Answer me you little slut,” he growls.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“You’ve been teasing me for months now with those ripped tights and short skirts. Stomping around like a fucking whore.” He settles both hands on your hips and drags you back onto his prick as his hips snap forward. A sobbing sound somewhere between pain and pleasure. He’s being rough. He really doesn’t care. His fingers dig deep enough to leave bruises as he continues to pummel you. His eyes dart to the clock. The time is passing far too rapidly. He debates about filling up your womb right then. So tempted to breed you. But then there’s your mouth. Yes, that’s where he wants to dump his load today.

He pulls out and slumps back in the chair behind him. Sees you straighten gingerly. Sore already. You’re really going to feel that come morning. “Kneel down.”

The tights and panties are still gathered in a tangled bunch around your knees. He has to help you get into position. Your mascara has smeared. The carefully painted lips are smudged. They’re about to get even messier. His fingers knot in your hair, guiding your mouth to his cock. He heaves a sigh. Your mouth is as perfect as your pussy. He feels your lips stretching to take him in. Another tight, wet hole for him to squeeze into. But you’re still so tentative. He’s going to have to assist you.

Steve forces your head to remain still while he shoves himself against the border of your throat. You gurgle and choke and gag as he unrelentingly batters you several more times before being merciful enough to let you slide back off of him, coughing and gasping for air. Fresh runs of mascara stain your cheeks where the tears have leaked anew from the strain. Your nails dig into his thighs when your head bobs over him again. He lets you control the pace a bit, watching your lips and tongue work over the head and shaft. “Look at me.” Your eyes meet his. He grabs your head and greets the back of your throat again. “That’s it. Take that big cock down your throat. You love it, don’t you?” You whimper, attempting to answer.

He drags his saliva coated dick free and you struggle for more air. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Keep looking at me.” He sets the flushed tip against your moist pink tongue. Wraps his fingers around the shaft and strokes, pushing down on the muscular organ that’s cradling the head of his cock. Your eyes are locked with his. His breathing is labored. So close. His eyes narrow as he frowns. A moan tears loose and he shoots a stream of cum inside your mouth. You blink and struggle but he’s got you pinned in place. A few more creamy sprays paint your mouth. He wipes the edge of his cock off on your bottom lip. “Swallow every drop of that.” He jerks your head back a bit. You close your mouth and swallow, wincing over the taste. “Let me see.” You stick your tongue out again. Clean. “Good girl.”

The bearded man relaxes his grip in your hair. His eyes flick to the clock again. Made it with five minutes to spare. Just enough time for you to put yourself back together and wash up in the bathroom across the hall.

He helps you stand, easily pulling you to your feet. Clothes are shifted back into place. The tights are not as ruined as he’d anticipated. He’ll have to work on them some more another time. You depart his office without comment. He wipes his brow and sits back down at the desk. The card is still lying there, beside his glasses.

The workday continues. You usher in more clients. He finds them job placements. The office closes for the day.

Steve waits for you outside, leaning against your car—black, like everything else you own. He’s watched you from the window of his office exiting and entering it so he’s certain it belongs to you. His arms are folded. He sees your steps slow as you catch sight of him.

“I thought,” he begins. There are roses resting on the windshield. Dark purple. “We might have dinner together.”

You draw even with him.

“I don’t like to be rushed. It’s not how I do things.”

You nod, glancing at the flowers adorning your vehicle. The heart shaped box is clutched to your chest.

“Or would you like to continue where we left off?” He pushes off the car and leans against you, pinning you in place, your body resting crushed lightly between the steel and the social worker’s long, lean frame.

“Do I have to choose only one of those options?”

A smile. “Not at all.”

“Both,” you decide.

The grin widens. “Both it is. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He bends to kiss you.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #william afton smut #steve raglan smut #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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yan-heta · 2 months

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YANDERE 2P ENGLAND ALPHABET (OLD)

★ NOTE ;;

— I may or may not rewrite this. This is old writing from my main blog, so expect a change of writing styles if someone were to ever request for me to rewrite this.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Oliver is a sucker for affection. By far, one of the clingiest of the 2p's. Love always gave him mixed feelings. He does not understand how people are able to love, but he would support them! Yet, how could one love? It's sometimes disgusting, absolutely nauseating; people getting too romantic, too sappy, too... revolting. As he met you, though, he starts to feel emotions stirring, bubbling like a brew. Oh, how treacherous! Now he felt as if all his thoughts were blinded by his delusion of love. Why must he feel his skin melting? His tooth aching by how sweet you feel? A fool for sweets, he wants more, to choke and rot by how tempting your lips are, how tempting to feel your hair by his hands. He just wants to feel every part of you, treat you like his God, and him, your worshipper.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He was already messy before meeting you, now he wants to give gifts from the blood he had shed. Giving your lover something you value is something of courting, right? Then you must love his special cupcakes made of love! By love, he means physically and emotionally; he means a human heart is a product of his solution. He won't tell you how he made it, but he loves when your eyes sparked interest in his creations. It made a sick grin plaster his face, masked by good. Perish the thought of how what you ate was your best friend, he'll be there for you instead, ready to comfort you when you come crying into his pastry shop, blubbering about how you miss them, how they all of a sudden disappeared. But cupid's arrow has him swerving in joy; you depend on him! Of course sacrificing your friend was worth it!

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

No mocking! He's ecstatic, filled to the brim with overwhelming madness mixed with elation. "Oh, poppet! I waited so long for this to happen! I love you! Love-love-love you!" He would chirp, sounding like an overjoyed child. His distorted sense of affection made him rush over you, who was chained to a bedpost, and embrace you into his warmth. How he misses you after waiting one day just to find the perfect time to abduct you. He'll be none the crueler to you. Of course, his God would have the best treatment, the best of everything, so he would try to be perfect for you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

His lack of personal space made him quite needy for every bit of your time. Unlike 2p France, your space would be invaded by him. In his eyes, it's solely meant to be like it, where two lovers are always together, acting romantic, and sappy, albeit before meeting you, he was repulsed by the idea. Love truly does change someone. Before abducting you, he would always be in his bed, biting his fingers while fantasizing about you, how nice it would be to feel your skin. He'd manifest that now he was with you, and you need not have to even do any self-care when he was controlling your life, while constantly praising you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Each bit of his heart is yours! Coming home after meetings, he would rant to you about his life, reveal himself, might I add, even expose his criminal records, and even the fact that he is a country, immortal, too. The shock on you after the confrontation would have him giggling for the rest of his day while happily cuddling you. He'll even show you his freckles, which he'd been hiding for long, if you'd like. Every night, he would tell of stories in his past, of how he had past lovers, and how they never seemed to please him, how they make him disgusted at their behavior, yet as he met you, he said; it was the first time he felt butterflies, the first time his knees felt weak, the first time his heart beating so fast, it felt like it would jump off.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

"Awww, darling!" He does not mind it, in fact, he sometimes convinces you to do so! It proves he needs to be better for you, and he'd take that criticism, no worries! All he sees it as exposure from the true you, it's like telling him he needs to change and he would do so cheekily for you to like him back. Once you show less of a fight, would he feel content with himself acting "perfect" and unflawed just for you. Just make sure you would not have that colorful language! Swearing hits a nerve and he'd cry, globs of tears falling off his freckled face as he holds his, begging to not say those words. Once you do, though, it would crack more cries, he would physically hurt himself once you start swearing up and down.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

The only game in his eyes are the games he plays with his victims once they try as much to make you fall for them. For you, though, it is not a game. Maybe the process of making you fall for him is like a dating simulator, but you escaping? He'll be in denial, a constant state of self questioning once you escape. Why do you not love him? After he has you in his grasp again, he would not even let you go, crying on your chest, continuously asking "why". He's weak when it comes to you, so he would seek you reciprocating his hugs, seek your warmth and snuggle while also shedding tears.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

When he accidentally showed you his slaughterous way of preparing his pastries. His eyes held such cruel euphoria, one you have never seen before, as he butchered the poor souls into bite-able bits. He told you you weren't going to end up as food. No! But these pesky mortals would. Yet, as much of a nuisance they may be, he'd only pick the best flesh to feed you, to impress you. After all, if it makes your tummy full, it fills his heart with pleasure, aware that what he served you, pleased you. Ensuing peace after tears stained your cheeks, Oliver would kiss it away and read you bedtime stories as a way to distract you from those memories. It's your first time seeing such grotesque actions, of course he would reassure you that it would never happen again. That was a mistake on his part.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Just for a smile on your face, to enjoy his crafts, and maybe even help him with his pastry shop! He does not mind either way, as long as you submit to him, and let him praise you willingly! He vowed to love you with every single bit of his immortal love, once you say "I love you" back, he would be overridden with every feeling of glee, jumping up and down in every step as if he has been gifted with great news, which basically is for him. But he knows he has to accomplish it! Like his bakery, it gained popularity through hard earned work, his pastries taking sweat and blood (literally and figuratively) to perfection. Same with you! He needs to please you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Indeed he does, and it happens every day, even after you were kidnapped. You show the slightest bit of interest that is not him, and he would be by your side, hands encasing your body, as he begs you to focus on him with an evident pout on his face. He'll even whine and cry dramatically if it means he would be your center of attention. Show interest in another man, and he may seem as if he is unbothered, but the pink swirls in his eyes means he's planning someone's death today. After they leave you two alone, he would be pleading. It's not your fault, but why? If he changes, would you love him? Oh, he guarantees he would.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Not afraid to have PDA. Every time, he is attached by your hip, a hand on a part of your body. He loves to cuddle, too, especially if he is the little spoon once you are willing. Adores sleeping with his neck buried in your face, as he could smell your scent, the shampoo he showered you with, prominent. He could get overboard and smooch your face many times, along with squeezing your body too much. At times, he loves to hold your body and trace every part with his fingers as he whispers what he loves about it. No part of you would be left insulted, instead it is praised.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

His offer of a pastry dish for free is his way. Anyone who is unaware of what he bakes always goes for more than seconds. They'd die to be in your place. Of course, when you offer to pay, he would shake his head and refuse. He says it's a treat for you as he appreciates you being a customer of his dainty place. Maybe even use your offer to pay to divert it into something like him saying he just wants to talk to you or so. And why would you turn down the owner of the bakery who's so cheery and positive, who seems to hold no malice?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Albeit seeming to act welcoming to everyone, he often tends to be less cruel, his colors more true and less forced. His smile holds genuine intent from seeing you. You're offered better privilege from him in his bakery, offered a better place to sit in, and his touches seem to last more on you. He also seems to be more lively, yet down-to-earth, as he has you. Almost as if he's living somewhat normal, somewhat alright- like a teenage boy who's in the process of falling in love, not some lunatic who chops people for fun.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Slaps on the wrist, interrogation, and him scolding you like a mother would do their daughter. He'll be pouty, but he tells you not to do "it" again because it may seriously harm you, and no one wants that. If you go too far, and he breaks down, then he'll maybe isolate you for some time with him. That is, you two are already isolated, but more likely you're stuck in the bedroom often.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Privacy. He'll sleep with you, take baths with you, have you attached to him most of the time. He knows you may be wary of him, but again, he means nothing bad! Just taking care of you, after all. He wants to know your every secret, so before he even abducts you, he has personal information on you. Now that he has you, he wants to hear you personally say your experience to him. That's what lovers do, they spend time together reliving memories, telling stories, yes?

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Depends. He'll be patient, but he'll also beg for you to love him already. For you to love him, it's a dream, his one main goal. So while it seems he would be patient, if you are on a streak of disinterest, then he'll slowly show you signs of impatience, either it'd be by whining more and getting more cuddly with you. Sometimes, he slips small signs of how he's waiting for you to submit.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No. He can't move on, he'll never move on. He'll even die, too! He's too emotionally dependent on you! How could he let go, he can't replace you, his life-source! He'll be drained of happiness, like he sees no value in life. He'll even let himself rot, he doesn't care. Nights of sorrowful yearning would turn into him planning to get you back, by magic. He's tempered with it all of the time. Oh, he'll get you back!

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He'll feel guilty if you're a bit homesick, but he feels like this is the best for you. He'll try to make your shared house feel more of yours, if it gives you a certain nostalgia. But once you settle in with him, then he'll let you go outside and be more independent, as long as you ask for permission, then it'd be no bother.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc.)?

Curiosity. He's never felt the feeling before, so of course, he would be curious on why you, of all people, make him feel giddy. But he accepts it. He'll observe you for a bit behind his counter while making pastries, let Flying Chocolate Bunny spy on you, and Ms. Fairy to stalk you home. They'd always tease him about his obvious fascination, but could he help it?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He'll do the same, too. It genuinely hurts him seeing you hurt. After all, who would want to see their lover cry? Mentally break? He loves you, would hold you once you cry, and let you cry as he does so, too. It's as if it's only the two of you, and it is. No isolating yourself, darling, he'll help you, you don't have to struggle yourself from even standing up. It really hurts him, but you have him, even if he might be the sole reason you are hurting yourself.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's both delusional and self-aware. It fluctuates between days and his moods. He loves you, and he knows that kidnapping you is wrong, but it's right for you! It makes him wary of what you do, and so he could keep track of you without you leaving his bakery every so often, but at the same time, he knows why you feel insecure under his gaze. But he promises he means no bad! Sometimes, he manipulates you into thinking he is perfect, sometimes he breaks down for no reason. He has this idealization of what love truly is, similar to 1p France, where he must not force it, but at the same time, he fails to do so.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His people-pleasing type of behavior towards you. He's always ready to be at your command at times, so once you know how to manipulate him, then you could use him. But, even as he is easy to use at your disposal does not mean he is unaware of manipulation, as he is one himself. Yet, he'll still let you do anything to him, at the end, he will be sobbing once he realizes you still do not love him. Why are you torturing him like he's just some toy? He's trying! Just for you! "Oh, poppet, darling! Please! Please don't leave me! I'll do anything for you, just don't leave! Please!" You can't even comprehend what he says as he hiccups, choking in guilt and shame.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Oh, never! He'd rather die, than see you break, lose yourself. The best he could do is spike your drink with a love potion, but that's the last thing he'd do once he's between a fine line of breaking. It'd be easier to break him, than for him to taint your skin with a knife. Punishments are usually slaps on the wrists, or small threats of losing your privilege to easting more of his dishes. If he ever goes too far, though, he'll apologize every day, begging for your trust, pleading that he'll change, he'll never harm you again.

Xanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Very much. He'll be doing every order of yours, except escaping. Want someone to die? You have the right person to ask! New clothes? "Oh, my sweets, give me the details and I'll make sure you have it!" For him, people-pleasing helps with you liking him, and every step of the way is something he would endure to steal your heart. He adores you, worships you. You're insecure? He'll make sure to utter every praise in the book, comfort you. Avoid mirrors? Darling, he knows what it feels like to feel repulsive to your body. No worries, he won't force you to be uncomfortable! Anything for his beloved poppet.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Love is a process for him to undergo for about a long time, but he's under your spell after observing you in his pastry shop every day you visit. You're so cute, everything about you makes him captivated. At first, he thought it was attraction, fascination on his part, but the more you do anything, the more he falls behind the counter. He offers you his desserts for free before abducting you, giddy heart beating whenever you take a bite and compliment his cooking. Anything you do, really, makes him entranced. It takes long before he finds out it is love, he asked 2p France about it, too! And even the Frenchman guaranteed it was love, and he was certain, utterly certain, you are his soulmate after time of being in denial.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Oh no! He's delusional, he feels love must be slow, and sweet. You'll fall by nature, for him! Your eyes should not drift to other people, that's not how soulmates work! Albeit the fact that he has kidnapped you, fed you one of your kind, forced his affections, does not mean he would be doing something so sickening towards you! No, he would not even dare choke you, or litter your skin with scars. Your tears are not worth losing yourself, as that would make the man live with shame. You're his one true lover, his soul's only connection. If he broke you, he'll break himself, too.

#🏚️.atlas writes #💌.yan alphabet #yandere 2p england #yandere 2p #yandere 2p hetalia #2p hetalia #yandere hetalia #hetalia #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere hetalia x reader #yandere 2p hetalia x reader #yandere oliver kirkland #2p yandere #2p england

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themythecho · 3 months

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Random Jason Grace HCs bc he's my husband

(FYI: I do HC him as queer & trans, suck it up)

He is the palest out of the entire group, therefore they're constantly making jokes like "Jason, you're my sun, I get blinded when I look at you." (Speaking from experience ygs)

He once let the Aphrodite cabin paint his nails

He has a lightning bolt charm on his CHB necklace

He wears a CHB shirt over a SPQR hoodie

on his pants/shorts is a bunch of different patches

everyone assumes he's a cishet guy, so whenever he kisses Leo (Valgrace>>>>) everyone freaks out.

Whenever he fights, he fights in his binder. Good for him? No, but that's besides the point.

He rarely curses, so when he does, people are like "Jason Grace, is that a cuss word I just heard out of your mouth?"

Since he was LITERALLY raised by wolves, he walks on all fours going up steps (I'm sorry, but if he doesn't, I would be SO surprised)

He keeps his hair neat to keep up that Praetor professional profile, so in HoH when his hair is buzzed on the side from Cupid's arrow, at first he is distraught, but after seeing Nico he learns to like it.

He's a man smoocher

little lad lover

men kisser

boy admirer

He feels a need to buy any and all wolf t-shirts he sees

He'll scratch around his nails when he is stressed

#jason grace #valgrace #headcanon #headcanons #hcs #percy jackson #pjo #pjo hoo toa #hoo #toa #Jason hcs #queer headcanons #queer #lgbtq headcanons #lgbtq

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narumi-gens · 1 year

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Cupid's Arrow - The Set Up

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: There’s no such thing as Cupid’s arrow. But fortunately for you and Osamu, you both have Atsumu. (OR: how Atsumu decided to play matchmaker for you and Osamu.)

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, pure fluff, bad dating stories, best friend!tsumu, reader is really going through it — what a champ, reader is really just trying their best, but it's ok bc you and osamu are destined for happiness and marital bliss, atsumu for best wingman 2023 (but like a sneaky little wingman who uses underhanded tricks)

notes: wanted to start a little drabble series about platonic!reader and osamu's relationship but told from atsumu's POV so here we are. this can definitely be read on its own though.

words: 1.6k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Atsumu would find your misfortune in dating funny if there wasn’t so much of it. Actually, that’s not true. He still finds it funny. How could he not?

“Atsumu! That guy I went on a date with? He sneezed in my face and didn’t even apologize!”

“You know that guy I just started seeing? It turns out he has a wife and a girlfriend! They found out about each other and confronted him while we were on a date. Didn’t you see the video I posted? It's going viral!”

“So I thought it was a date, but actually he was trying to recruit me to his pyramid scheme.”

“Oh my god. This guy was so annoying. He wouldn’t stop fooling around with the ball at mini-golf and I ended up getting hit. Anyway, long story short the doctor said I have a scratch on my cornea and have to use these eye drops for the next few days.”

While the stories never get old, he does feel bad for you. You’re his best friend after all. These scrubs that you’ve been going out with don’t even deserve a second glance from you, let alone an entire date.

And so finally, after hearing about your latest misadventure in single life (“Oh, can you cover dinner? That guy I went out for drinks with yesterday stole my wallet.”), Atsumu decides it’s not just his duty to step in as your closest friend, but his duty as a decent person.

“Samu, when’s the last time ya went out on a date?” he asks his brother the next time that he sees him, only to receive the most uninterested look in response.

“Don’t get involved in my love life,” he firmly warns the setter with narrowed eyes and Atsumu scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“What love life? Yer married to onigiri!” he cries as he points an accusatory finger directly at said onigiri in Osamu’s hand.

He’s honestly surprised that Osamu doesn’t throw it in his face with how annoyed he now looks, but he also knows the chef would never waste Kita’s rice like that.

“I could get a date if I wanted. I don’t need yer help,” he insists.

“Duh, you have my face even if yer missin’ my amazing hair and personality.” When his cocky grin is met with a flat look, Atsumu realizes he might need to go for a different approach — the caring, earnest, brotherly approach. “Look, I know someone I think ya’d really like.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?” The question is asked with mocking disbelief, as if there’s no universe where Atsumu could successfully play matchmaker for his brother.

He’s only too happy to prove him wrong, so when says your name, it’s with smug pride. He prepares himself for the bounty of gratitude that Osamu is about to shower him with.

Only, that doesn’t happen. His brother scoffs and turns his attention fully back to his onigiri, dismissing the idea of going on a date with you entirely. Atsumu can’t help but feel a prickle of offense on your behalf (and his own).

“Hey! She’s a real catch, y’know!” he cries out. And it’s true.

You’re smart, you’re successful, you’re funny, and you both always have the best time when you hang out together. And while he’s reluctant to admit it because he never likes to think of you in that way, you’re also attractive. He knows his brother isn’t blind to it either.

The two of you have only met a few times in passing since he’s known you, but Atsumu’s eyes are too sharp from years of volleyball to have missed how Osamu’s gaze tends to linger on your ass just a bit longer than is polite. He knows pointing that out would not go well.

“She’s the one doin’ me the favor by agreein’ to go out with a scrub like you,” he continues to argue. But, it’s that part that isn’t entirely true.

You actually have no idea that Atsumu is trying to meddle in your dating life. However, that’s something he can easily deal with once he’s convinced Osamu to take you out. While he would never call you desperate, at least not to your face, at this point you’ll go out on a date with anyone. It’s his brother that’s the real hurdle in this scheme.

“Ya want me to date yer best friend?” Osamu asks slowly.

“Yeah, what’s so crazy about that?” he frowns.

“First, I’d never get ya out of my life if that happened,” he says blandly and continues over Atsumu’s squawk of protest. “Besides, there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with her if she willingly chooses to spend so much time with ya.”

“Look, would it kill ya to go on just one date?” He doesn’t mention that if things go according to plan, it won’t be just one date. It’ll be a lifetime of happiness for the two most important people in his life. But that’s something that he doesn’t think Osamu would find as compelling as he does.

“The restaurant ain’t gonna burn down or anything just cause ya spend a couple of hours outside of it. All yer rice’ll still be here when ya get back.”

Osamu gives him the dirtiest look, but then, after a long moment, he sighs heavily and Atsumu knows that he’s cleared the first hurdle. All he has to do is clear the next one. Thankfully it’s much lower.

“Hey, I got someone I wanna set ya up with.”

“Who?” Just as he expected, you immediately sound interested and willing.

“Samu.”

There’s a long pause and he begins to worry that the low hurdle that he needs to clear is actually higher than he anticipated.

“Your brother?” you finally ask, your expression wrinkling with confusion.

“Yeah. Why? What’s the big deal?” Now he’s the one confused as he watches your small frown begin to grow a little deeper.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it kind of…weird?” Your hesitancy towards going out with Osamu is a least a lot more gentle than Osamu’s was towards you. “You guys are identical twins. You have the same face and everything. Wouldn’t it be like dating you?”

There’s a hint of disgust in your tone and he would be offended if he didn’t feel the same way about the notion of dating you.

“You could only be so lucky,” he says with a snort before deciding that he’ll have to pull out the caring, earnest, brotherly approach once again. “Please? I’m worried if he doesn’t go out with someone soon then he’s just gonna spend the rest of his life alone with his onigiri.”

This is yet another half-truth that he has to tell in this scheme. Because while he does sometimes think that Osamu’s on the path to becoming a hermit, he’s way more concerned about you. With the way things are going for you, one day he’s going to get a call about how some scumbag that you’re in love with emptied your bank account and ran off in the middle of the night.

But the half-truth seems to work because pity momentarily flashes across your face. He just needs to push a little bit more.

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but he asked if he thought he had a shot with ya,” he sighs, trying to sound reluctant, like he’s had no choice but to reveal this made-up secret. And what can it hurt? It’s just another white lie.

“He did?” You sound baffled rather than flattered and he hopes you can’t see the spike of panic that he feels. “What brought that on? I haven’t even seen him in forever.”

“He saw yer thirst trap on Instagram,” he blurts out to distract you and he breathes a sigh of relief when you gasp at the accusation.

“I told you! It wasn’t a thirst trap! I genuinely wanted to know if that outfit was appropriate for a work event!” you whine pathetically.

“Okay, yeah. Sure,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Nothing says business like a shirt unbuttoned so low that your hot-pink bra peeks out.”

You open your mouth to protest your innocence but Atsumu cuts you off before the argument can really get started. The mission here is to ensure yours and Osamu’s eternal happiness and he intends to see success.

“Look, you deserve someone who treats ya right,” he offers, sincerity shining through in his words and expression. “Samu’s a good guy. I trust him with ya.”

“I don’t know…” you trail off, sounding much less firm in your reservations than only a few minutes before.

“Remind me what happened on yer last date?”

You look away from him with a petulant frown.

“…he ordered his food to go and then left me at the restaurant,” you mutter under your breath.

He raises an eyebrow as if that says it all — which it does. You just roll your eyes with a huff.

“Fine!” you relent, throwing your hands up in the air before pointing a firm finger in his direction. “But if it gets weird then I’m blaming you.”

He just grins triumphantly and pulls out his phone so that he can send your number to Osamu. But then he sees you suddenly pout and groans at your dramatics.

“What’s wrong now?” he asks impatiently and your pout grows deeper.

“Y’know he could at least have liked my thirst trap,” you mumble and Atsumu’s eyes light up.

“So you admit it! It was a thirst trap!” he crows, even as he hopes that it doesn’t come out until you guys are married that Osamu only ever uses Instagram to post on Onigiri Miya’s business account.

#miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu fluff #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #mel writes #cupid's arrow #meet the miyas

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myoddessy · 2 years

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MIRRORBALL | dream of the endless

pairing: dream of the endless x goddess of love!reader

summary: you went by many names. cupid, aphrodite, venus, freyja, some simply called you what you were, love. but, to morpheus, you needed no name other than his, and in the dim light of a ballroom, he admires your glow.

notes: morpheus + taylor swift = my happiness, even if most of it is sad. you're safe with this one, though 💞 agápi means love in greek, it's only used once but you can pry the thought of fiddlers green using greek words as terms of endearment for those he truly cares about from my cold dead hands.

warnings: no show/comic spoilers!!, angst (mild), fluff, they're so in love it's sickening, fiddlers green is my fav and you can tell.

word count: 1.7k

the playlist.

"are you alright, dear love?" fiddlers green questioned, pulling you from your stupor as you ran your finger across a daisy's petal.

"yes, as always. why do you ask?"

"well, and please forgive me for being frank, you seem somewhat reserved today. you are usually full of stories after blessing day, and you've been silent since you've joined me." you wished to deny it, but he was right.

blessing day, what mortals called valentine's, was your busiest dawn. be it weddings, proposals, births, confessions, or simple matchmaking, almost every mortal across the waking world had some form of request for you. and, just as fiddlers green had said, most years you were bursting at the seams with adoring anecdotes.

you told him of every arrow you'd strung, every vow you'd guided, every first kiss you'd officiated, and he listened gladly. besides, there's not much he could do to stop you from talking.

what was different this year, however, was their thanks for your gifts, or, in this case, lack thereof.

you were all too aware of the fact that mortals did not rely on you, and you were far more dependent on their faith than they were on your blessings, but the mere whisper of a 'thank you, cupid' was enough to tide you over. but this year, there was nothing. they took your heart and cracked it open, passing the spoils of your gifts around.

you were too fond of them to be vengeful, empathy bleeding into the resentment until you forced yourself to forgive and move to the next thankless blessing.

"i suppose i just feel like i didn't help enough people today." you toyed with your fingers with the nervousness of a child in trouble.

for the first time in centuries, fiddlers green scoffed at you. "i am absolutely certain that that is not the case, my dear. i can guarantee that when the waking world rests, i will see countless of romantics pass by, all because of you."

you smiled at his praise, and in the way the trees swayed, you could sense his pride in lifting your spirits. you took a deep breath and lay down, blades of grass tickling your face. "am i naive?"

"i'm not entirely sure what you mean."

your brows knitted together in stress. "have mortals always been selfish and i've been too blinded by their beauty to realise it?"

"ah," he began in realisation, "i take it thanks were few and far between this year?"

"i dont mean to sound spoiled or gluttonous, but i give them so much. all i wish for is some sort of acknowledgment before i'm pulled in all directions by those in need of a blessing."

"i do not think that mortals are inherently selfish, and i do not think that you are either. what i do believe that mortals are, is close-minded and excitable. you give them so much joy that they struggle to process it, hence your artists and poets who channel your inspiration into a vessel to carry your gifts." his voice was gentle, as if he were speaking to an injured fawn, and you relished in the comfort of his consoling. "you work yourself too hard, agápi. the guilt of failing to achieve the unachievable is far too much for anyone to carry, especially someone as reliant on emotions as you are."

"i feel like i'm invisible to them when they don't want something." your throat tightened and tears gathered by your waterline. "i fear that soon, i'll run out of love to give them."

fiddlers green swore that, in that moment, he could feel the tender scales of your heart tip ever-so-slightly towards the coldness that came with being callous. he knew you were a fragile being. not weak, never weak. he had seen the power your gifts granted every realm and the effects that withdrawals of your grace had on now-tarnished lands. but fragile in the sense that an antique vase of the finest china was fragile. it was beautiful and glorious, but if it was handled too harshly, it would fall to the ground and shatter into a million shards.

as the embodiment of love itself, you were blessed with an open mind, but cursed with a bleeding heart. you felt everything for everyone tenfold. if a mortal wept, you cried for them. if a faerie giggled, you laughed alongside them. you carried the burden of enough love to bring light to hell and were forced to spread it across worlds, lest it grow too much to handle and your porcelain face cracked.

before he could respond, he sensed a new presence enter, and heard a voice to match it soon after. "my love?"

you hastily wiped away a few stray tears before standing and spinning to face your lover. "my dream." you sighed happily, a smile of sheer elation growing at the mere sight of him. he stepped towards you and took your hand in his. with a kiss to his cheek, you felt the rock in your chest lighten.

you were beautiful. this, morpheus knew. in fact, everyone knew that. it was plain to see in the statues and sketches and sonnets and songs created in admiration of you and as odes to your honour that morpheus was far from alone in his infatuation with you. but instead of feeling jealous and attempting to steal you away from the twinkling eyes of the masses, he was more than willing to fall to his knees alongside them as your unwavering devotee.

your hand rested intertwined in his as the golden hour light bounced off your face and made morpheus' breath hitch, not even attempting to hide his blatant staring.

"how was your day?" morpheus had a putrid hate for small talk, but blessing day was full of stories, and he'd give anything to revel in your voice.

"awful."

oh.

he stopped in his tracks, hand still wrapped around yours, even tighter now. his jaw was set in concern and his face was taught. "who has upset you?" he stood closer to you, free hand cupping your face.

"the waking world, but i find now that it's hardly their fault." you tugged on his hand and continued walking, practically dragging morpheus in tow. "they are not to blame for their purpose. they are vessels of love and life, my duty is to fulfil and guide them. their lives are improved by me, my life depends on doing what they need."

with your words hanging tensely in the air, morpheus swore that he knew your feeling of a bleeding heart. for when yours ached, his stopped completely, and he would damn the waking world if it meant your smile would reach your eyes again.

"but what is it you wish to do, my love?" his hand held your gently, as if he were afraid you'd shatter with the confrontation of not conforming to someone else's wishes.

centuries of morpheus by your side flashed before your eyes. picnics in lavish renaissance fields, archery ranges by nomadic campsites, feasts in royal courts. but one distinct setting stood out in the forefront of your mind. your heads bowed, a kiss pressed to the back of your palm, a brilliant ball gown, and dancing.

"i wish to dance."

he smiled, a half-turned quirk of his lip that danced with amusement that almost screamed that he knew that's what you would say. "then dance you shall."

you felt the soft gust of sand sweeping around you both, and by the time it settled, a laugh of pure elation escaped you.

weighed down more than before by your gown. a milky-white bodice with delicate intricacies of golden lace, butterfly sleeves barren, bar the gold hem that lay flat against your skin when you moved your arm to marvel at it. a corset of similar design resting at a comfortable tightness and adding extra flair to the full circle skirt. morpheus watched with a silent smile as you admired your dress, finding himself more focused on your beaming grin than the garment itself.

but far grander than your dress was the ballroom you found yourself in. the smallest tap of your shoes resounded through the high arching ceiling and bounced off the art-filled walls. marble pillars supported its weight, and a large crystalline chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling, each fraction of light reflecting off of its surface and leaving minuscule rainbows on the walls in their wake.

you turned to morpheus with awe and gratitude written on your face, your breath hitching when you found him already staring at you with more adoration than you'd seen in a thousand mortal valentine's days. he stepped closer to you, took your hand in his, bowed slightly, and with a cheeky glint in his eye asked, "may i have this dance?"

with a laugh, you too curtseyed, agreeing with a simple, "why, yes, kind sir, you may."

and all at once, you heard it. soft piano paired with violin as morpheus led you in a dance you'd walked through hundreds, if not thousands, of times before.

but this night, this dance, seemed different. they way morpheus looked at you, the way he held you, made your power grow and your chest swell. you could feel the love he had for you, and it was borderline overwhelming. a mere minute of his presence, of what he felt for you, was enough to tear the pieces of your being from the ungrateful hand's of mortals and piece it back together with the utmost care.

so caught up in thoughts of him, and only him, you hardly realised you were still dancing until morpheus spoke again. "you're glowing."

"pardon?" your brows furrowed and you huffed a laugh.

his smile widened. "you're glowing." he repeated, happier than the last time. you looked down to where your hands met, and your eyes widened when you saw that you were, indeed, glowing.

it had happened only once before, during your wedding, and a roseate hue surrounded you for the full day. you assumed that it came from the fulfilment of being completely, hopelessly, and utterly in love. you looked to morpheus' eyes again and smiled. it made sense that you were glowing now, of all times.

"you truly are a wonder, my queen."

#morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfic #morpheus imagines #morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #the sandman x reader #fiddlers green #tom sturridge x reader #tom sturridge #neil gaiman

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