#i know its not 'canon' but still! still... 💔 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

happy74827 · 1 month ago

Text

The Weight of Seeing

[John Constantine x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Having been cursed with the pain of having the power to see, but never the power to help, you were used to the failure. But it hurts more than you anticipated when your visions shifted to a certain someone who you realized meant everything to you {GIF Creds: thejingshi}.

WC: 2212

Category: Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical!John Constantine, Visionary!Reader {TW: Premonitions/Visions of Death, Migraines (i hate them)}

This is a little random idea I had sitting in my drafts for a tiny bit, but I felt very inclined to finish it. Especially with the lack of fics 💔

『••✎••』

The air in the safehouse is still.

Muted, like the world has agreed to hold its breath for once. Rain taps gently at the windows, and the scent of wet concrete drifts in through the small crack John left in the window when he went out. You sit on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, sunglasses perched delicately on the bridge of your nose—more for the throb behind your eyes than the overhead light, which John had dimmed before leaving. He’d remembered.

It’s the small things like that. The fact that he remembered you couldn’t stand harsh light during a migraine. The fact that he’d gone out at all for you.

You hear the door open before you see him. The creak of wood and the shuffle of boots are too familiar now to mistake. And then his presence fills the room like smoke—sharp, lingering, inescapable.

You don’t move. Not at first.

You just watch him.

John Constantine, drenched from the rain, coat clinging to his frame. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and a cigarette is crushed between two fingers, unlit—for now. There was a time when you couldn’t have imagined him not smoking the second he walked into a room. Maybe he’s changing. Maybe not. Maybe it’s just you.

His dark hair, still damp, curls at the ends. You’ve always noticed how it lies slightly off-center, like he’d run his fingers through it once, maybe twice, and given up halfway. And his eyes... those weary, predatory things. Dark, sunken, always scanning—like the world had lied to him too many times and now he never trusts anything at face value. But right now, they soften when they find you.

"You still breathing?" he asks, voice roughened at the edges. But quieter than usual. Calmer. Like he knows your head is splitting again.

You manage a nod.

John sets the small paper bag down on the nightstand and pulls the chair from the corner across the room. He doesn’t sit right away. Just stands there, studying you. His silence is a loaded thing.

You take the glasses off slowly. Even through the pounding in your skull, you still wanted to see him.

"You didn’t have to go," you murmur.

He ignores that. "Tried to get the strong stuff. Your doc’s a cryptic bastard, but the pharmacist got the idea."

He lights the cigarette. Then, after one drag, stubs it out. He doesn’t look at you while he does it.

You tilt your head slightly. "You only smoke half when you’re nervous."

His jaw twitches.

"Don’t flatter yourself," he says, finally sinking into the chair. But his voice has lost all of its bite. The words fall flat—almost gentle, somehow.

You study him in silence. The way his fingers tap against his thigh, his coat hanging open and soaked through, clinging to that long frame of his. The faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. That impossible, wrecked beauty he carries like a curse. His hands—calloused, twitchy, always reaching for something to fight or light or fix.

Except now, they’re still.

He isn’t looking at you anymore, not directly—just watching the space around you like there’s something there he can’t quite name. You haven’t said much since he walked in, and for once, it isn’t the migraine that makes you quiet.

John notices. Of course he notices.

"You’re quieter than usual," he says. Not an accusation. Just observation, plain and pointed. He turns his head slightly, the weight of his gaze settling back on you. "Head worse?”

You hesitate, shaking your head. "No, It’s not that."

He leans back in the chair, arms folded. "Something happened while I was gone."

It isn’t a question, but rather just the truth, pulled right out of you without your even opening your mouth.

Your hands tense in your lap. You look down at them, at the pale curve of your fingers, like they might hold the answer for how to not say the thing pressing against your throat. But your silence is louder than anything now.

He waits. Patient, but not gentle. He never asks twice—he just gives you a moment to make your own choice about honesty.

Still, you don’t speak.

He sighs and rubs his eyes, the pads of his fingers digging into his sockets like he could push the weariness back in. "Premonition?"

Your breath catches.

You don’t mean for it to, but it does. The tell is enough.

John nods slightly. "Yeah," he mutters. "That checks out."

That shouldn’t be comforting, but it is. That unfazed tone. That shrug of reality, like death omens are as common as a change in the weather. It unknots something in you, something tangled in fear and guilt.

"I didn’t want to say anything," you admit, barely above a whisper. "Because if I said it, it would mean it’s real. And I thought maybe, if I stayed quiet long enough, it’d just... go away."

He doesn’t interrupt. He just leans forward again, his arms resting on his knees, listening.

"I’ve seen people die," you say. "Over and over. And I try—I do. I try to get there in time or warn them. But it’s always too late. Always."

He watches you with those sharp, tired eyes, but he doesn’t flinch or look away.

You look up at him then, blinking against the sting behind your eyes. "But this time it was you, John."

A silence like thunder settles between you.

"I saw it," you say, voice cracking. "I saw you die. And I just—I couldn’t breathe for minutes after. It hurt. Like it already happened."

Still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just listens.

"I’ve failed before," you continue, softer now. "I’ve tried to save people, and they die anyway. And I thought I could live with that, but now—" You swallow hard. "I don’t think I can live through losing you."

A beat passes. Then another.

And finally, he stands. Slow. Careful. Like he doesn’t want to scare you off.

"You ever think maybe you care too much?" he asks, tone dry—but his eyes say something else. Something bruised and aching.

You smile faintly, humorless. "Maybe. But I don’t think that’s the worst thing to be guilty of."

John studies you for a long moment, brow furrowed slightly. Then he sighs.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do. Maybe turn around and leave. He does that sometimes, when the truth gets too close. When you both come too close to the line neither has crossed. But instead, he walks to the bed and sinks down beside you, hands on his knees, eyes fixed on a point on the wall across from you.

The air in the safehouse grows heavier, thick with the weight of your confession and the rain’s relentless patter outside. John’s presence beside you is a quiet storm, his silence louder than any words could be. His shoulder brushes yours, just enough to make your pulse stutter, but he doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

You steal a glance at him. His profile is sharp against the dim light—angular jaw, the faint lines etched around his eyes, the way his mouth sets in a line that’s neither soft nor hard, just John. He’s close enough that you can smell the rain on his coat, the faint trace of cigarette smoke clinging to him despite the stubbed-out remnant. It’s grounding, that scent. It’s him.

"You didn’t fail anybody," he says finally, voice low, gravelly, like he’s pulling the words from somewhere deep. "Least of all me."

You shake your head, the motion small but sharp. "You don’t get it, John. I saw it. You were—" Your voice catches again, and you press your lips together, trying to hold it in. The image flashes behind your eyes: blood pooling on pavement, his body still, those sharp eyes fading forever. "It was so real. I could feel it. Like I was there."

He turns his head then, just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are darker now, searching, like he’s trying to see the vision you saw, to carry it for you. "I've outlasted worse," he says, and there’s a conviction in his tone that almost makes you believe him. Almost.

"You can’t know that," you whisper, your voice barely holding together. "You don’t even know what I saw."

He shifts, angling his body toward you, his knee brushing against yours. The contact is fleeting but deliberate, and it sends a jolt through you, like static. "I’ve been dodging death longer than you’ve been having visions," he says, his voice softer now, but still edged with that dry certainty. "I’m not saying it’s a guarantee, but I’m a hard bastard to kill."

You let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound, and it eases the knot in your chest just a fraction. "You’re impossible," you murmur, but there’s no heat in it. Just exhaustion. Just relief that he’s here, alive, sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.

"Part of my charm," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s still watching you, too closely, like he’s waiting for you to crack again. Or maybe he’s the one about to crack, and he’s just better at hiding it.

The silence stretches again, taut and fragile, and you’re suddenly aware of how close he is. Close enough that you can see the faint pulse at the base of his throat, the way his fingers flex slightly against his knees, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out. You wonder what it would feel like if he did. If he closed that last inch of space between you. If he let himself.

You’ve thought about it before—too many times, in moments when you shouldn’t. In moments when he’s looked at you like he’s looking at you now, like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. But John Constantine doesn’t do soft. He doesn’t do promises or attachments or anything that could break him more than he’s already broken. And yet, here he is, sitting on this bed, not running.

"You’re scared," he says suddenly, and it’s not a question. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the haze in your head like a blade. "Not just about the vision."

Your breath hitches, and you hate that he can read you so easily. You want to deny it, to deflect, but the words won’t come. Instead, you look down at your hands again, fingers twisting together, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing.

"I’m scared of a lot of things," you admit, barely audible. "But yeah. Mostly you."

He doesn’t laugh or smirk or brush it off like you expect him to. Instead, he leans closer, just enough that his shoulder presses fully against yours now, solid and warm. "You don’t have to be," he says, and for once, there’s no edge to his voice, no sarcasm or deflection. Just truth, raw and unguarded.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. You turn your head to look at him, and he’s already looking at you, closer than he’s ever been. His eyes are dark, endless, and for a moment, you think you see something flicker in them—something that looks like fear, or want, or both. The air between you feels like it might snap, like a wire pulled too tight.

"John," you say, and his name feels heavy on your tongue, like a confession in itself.

He doesn’t move, but his gaze drops to your mouth for a fraction of a second, and it’s enough to make your pulse race. Enough to make you wonder what it would be like to close the distance, to taste the rain and smoke on his lips, to let yourself fall into whatever this is that’s been simmering between you for too long.

But he pulls back, just an inch, and the moment fractures. Not gone, but held in suspension, like the rain outside. He clears his throat, looks away, and runs a hand through his damp hair, leaving it even more disheveled.

"You need to rest," he says, voice rough again, like he’s trying to ground himself. "Migraine’s bad enough without you staying up worrying about me."

You want to argue, to tell him you’re not the one who needs saving, but the exhaustion in your bones wins out. You nod, shifting to lie back on the bed, your head still throbbing but somehow lighter now. He doesn’t leave, though. He stays there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped between his knees, like he’s keeping watch.

"John," you say again, softer this time, as your eyes start to drift closed.

"Yeah?" His voice is quiet, almost tender.

"Don’t die," you whisper, and it’s half a plea, half a prayer.

He doesn’t answer right out, but you feel the bed shift slightly as he leans closer, his breath warm against your temple.

"Not planning on it," he murmurs, and you realize then that this was the closest thing to a promise you’ll ever get from him.

So, begrudgingly, you close your eyes and let the words settle over you as the rain shifts into being a quiet witness to the peace between you.

174 notes · View notes

1920sladydectective · 7 months ago

Note

Okay but… first of all I LOVE your writing. It’s amazing and I’m so hyped for the miniseries!! (Please tag me if possible 💖)

Would you ever write for a reader who is very good friends with Mel (maybe college or coworkers or just generally friends) and when she meets Ambessa she just has the biggest crush?? The forbidden-smut-overall tension would send me 💔

Hello sweetpea,

Thank you for all your support, you're a star. Here is part one of this University friend sex AU situation. I will be writing more and it will be an angsty, smut to love tension fest, for now this is the silly set up and initial sex. I hope you like! 4.2K, not proofread.

Ambessa is kinder here, as in modern worlds she couldn't be a warlord to me and I fancied making her a more playful, enticing woman like she can be in canon. She's still a bad parent but less so I guess?

I'm British and was picking Saltburn half the time lol

Writing slowed as my assignments killed me, hoping to get back to it without burning myself out

xoxo

WARNINGS: Drug use, Alcohol Use, Age Gap Sex, Best Friend's Mum sex, degradation and praise, silly uni kids being uni kids.

Mel’s offer to spend the summer at her childhood home was a blessing. With your mother gone and your father on an oil rig, you were not looking forward to spending summer alone in your hometown.

This was a little much however. She’d called it a bit over dramatic as you pulled onto a private road, but driving up you saw a stately manor with its own forest surrounding it. You called that rich as fucking shit. It loomed over its surroundings and if Mel was to be believed, its owner was much the same.

You knew Mel had money, though she was a generous and likeable person who was very open about it, she reeked of it without her open disclosures. The sleek Land Rover you had road tripped in was another obvious case, spacious for two and perfect for endless roads of Katy Perry blasting.

Somehow, despite the excitement, you knew staying here was going to have its troubles. Even if it was as small as getting lost on the way to the bathroom.

Mel’s mother was another thing to be tense about. She was exacting and harsh and apparently devoid of all love. Despite this Mel was happy to return home for the ten week summer, perhaps because she had you as a shield.

A man, a Butler, by the name of Rictus came out to greet you and collect your things, taking them to your respective rooms as Mel dragged you along on a half hearted, sarcastic tour. Her entryway was larger than your flat and it made you snort. Paintings worth more than you were fucking everywhere and of course she had a huge, regal looking cat.

“Mina is very aggressive,” Mel muttered, “I think it’s the only reason Mother tolerates her,”

“Hello Mina, I shall give you your space,” You said calmly, the ornate ball of fur screeching at you and running away.

Her departure heralded the matriarch, and Mel’s face stilled.

“Mel, my darling,” Her voice was amused, her stature and look mesmerising as she emerged from a side room, “I would have come to greet you had I known it was this afternoon you’d be arriving,”

“You did know,” Mel scoffed into her mother’s sudden and short hug, before rolling her eyes in your direction.

“And you must be Mel’s little friend, come to stay,”

“She has a name,”

You did and it stumbled out of your lips, an unsure smile on your face. Why did Mel’s mum have to be the hottest woman you had literally ever seen? “Thank you for having me, Mrs Medarda,”

“The pleasure’s mine, Dear,” Her sharp focus was solely on you and you felt suddenly very breakable, “I do hope you enjoy our hospitality,”

Mel gripped your arm, dragging you away with platitudes to her mother about seeing her at dinner. Once you’d made it to her (ridiculous, opulent, crazy) bedroom, she let out a huff.

“I’m sorry about her, she isn’t around a lot so we won’t have to worry about it too often,”

“It’s okay,” Your voice was calming, giving your friend a winning smile, “Anything beats an empty flat and working in a coffee shop,”

You began to regret that reassurance once you sat opposite Mel eating a bowl of french onion soup. It felt like you were intruding on a private moment, jabs and quips hidden behind flowery words as the Medarda women tore each other to shreds. It was the first time you’d seen Mel on the back foot.

Rictus seemed used to it, serving food and sorting through the house as their voices rose. You learned this was his last day before a long holiday and clearly he had decided it was not worth pitching in his opinions when Mel or Ambessa asked for them.

Instead, Ambessa drew you into the conversation against her daughter's wishes, tugging opinions from you about food and schooling and her house. Each one seemed to widen her smirk, golden orbs fixed on you. She felt warm, inviting to you, in the way a lion would. Majestic but deadly. Fatigued and stuck in a power struggle, you ate tiramisu in silence. Then Ambessa mentioned the party.

“Mother really,” Mel groaned, “Must you?”

“Must I have my annual summer party in my own house? Same as I do every year?” She scoffed, fixing her with a colder stare.

“I-I don’t know, could be fun,” It was clear in Mel’s eyes you were a traitor, though she wished to appease both friend and host.

“Exactly, thank you dear,” Her warm smile shone on you again, “and you girls can help me,”

“Of course,” Mel rolled her eyes, seemed you’d laid your bed and she would make you lie in it, “She especially would love that, she has an eye for culinary arts,”

What a lie. You burnt water. Ambessa didn’t seem to notice or care.

Several days passed like this, basking in the sun, swimming in the pool and being the unintentional deciding vote in Medarda madness. Kino, Mel’s brother, seemed to usually fill that role and favoured Mel constantly. You, however, were a more even bet and that seemed to delight Ambessa. Mel was right about the ridiculously large orchestra, Ambessa’s view on the food timings made more sense. This went on and on for the first two weeks as you settled into a routine. Ambessa seemed to be around constantly, far more than Mel was used to and Kino would not return until the night of the party. Everything seemed to be balancing as well as it could until the day the party arrived and you realised with a resounding slap to the soul that you had a crush on Ambessa Medarda.

It was fucked. You knew that. She was your friend’s mum and a scary, mysterious woman to boot. But she was also light and funny and beautiful. She made you feel special and considered and opened her home to you, lavishing you in a luxury you had never known. Sometimes it felt personal, like her eyes lingered to spark heat on your skin. Her hands would brush yours as she passed a plate at the table, she would leave tea for you on the kitchen island as you always rose just after her. It was maddening and probably in your head.

This dreadful, eye opening doomed, morning started with Mina the cat. Fruit tea firmly in your grasp, you made your way to the library. Instead of finding it empty, you heard Ambessa’s velvet tone, eyes catching the back of her as she stroked the bundle of evil fluff.

“Now, my little demon,” Ambessa muttered, “You have mutilated my favourite scarf and for that you shall suffer, how do you plead?”

Mina growled, nibbling on her long, strong, beautiful- nibbling on her fingers.

“I see, into the fire you go,” She muttered, faking a throw into the cold, ash coated harth as Mina skipped off under the bookshelves instead, “On the lam? I should have guessed,”

Your little snort travelled, her eyes snapping to meet yours as she raised an eyebrow. Whoops fuck.

“Another criminal in our midst,” She smiled, teeth glinting, “Though I’d say you’re less slippery, darling,”

Darling. Fuck. You were doomed.

It was then that the realisation had hit, and molten fear and excitement curdled in your stomach. She was muttering about how you could help her with party preparations, words smoothing over you like gentle waves as you nodded. Somehow you were in the kitchen again, in an apron more expensive than your car cutting carrots and listening to her hum Frank Sinatra of all things.

Mel didn’t come down until well past noon, obviously intentional on her part as you popped the last of the prepped food in the multitude of fridges. The rest was being done by caterers, but Ambessa had had you prepare her staples for the one hundred and fifty guests. You wondered how they’d all fit, but it was a stupid thought. She could have had thousands here with little trouble.

“Somebody has been a little Angel,” Ambessa said, voice light as she locked eyes with you, “and it isn’t you, Mel,”

“Spare me,” She sighed, eating a cereal bar, “Has she broken your spirit yet?”

“Can’t break what I haven’t got,” You quipped, looking away from the older Medarda with burning cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” It was quiet, blink and you’d miss it, but Ambessa had definitely muttered that in your ear as she wandered through to answer a call from the decorators.

Mel grinned, grabbing your hand, “We need to go and get ready, buy lunch out and get space before we’re swallowed whole by mum’s elitist world,”

You followed after her to the car, not having the heart to mention she was firmly one of those elitists herself.

When you returned, nails and hair freshly styled upon Mel’s insistence, there was a red Bently in the drive. Your friend practically threw herself out of the car, hip bashing on the door as she ran inside.

You were met with a tender reunion, brother and sister rambling over each other as Ambessa leaned against the doorframe with a grin, her eyes caught yours for a moment before she embraced her two children.

Slipping away, you gave them their space as you rifled through your clothes and hung up your dress. It was pretty, it would suit you and it was now the nicest thing you owned. Guests would be arriving in an hour and you used the lull to enjoy your own thoughts, makeup applied with deft hands.

Knowing what you knew about your feelings, it would have been wise to prepare yourself for the sight of an even more fancy Ambessa. You didn’t and so naturally you nearly died. It simply wasn’t right, how ethereal she was. You licked your lips, heart smashing against your ribs as you came to rest at the entrance. Like a line of prize animals, Ambessa had lined up her children and it seemed from her waving hand, you were to participate in this presentation. Kino was all crinkles and kind laughs, instantly making him likeable. Somehow, he still stayed your third favourite Medarda, and it felt like a betrayal to debate who held the first spot whilst the daughter held your hand playfully and the mother’s eyes ran over your exposed legs.

Bollocks.

The greeting system felt archaic and yet entirely Medarda. This was the upper echelons and you were a pretty little ornament of the working class to be questioned and nodded at patronisingly. Ambessa had smiled in her swirling red wine several times at orange housewives’ pitying glances as you mentioned your plans to work after university. God forbid. It took an hour and a half for people to trickle in, all seemingly knowing your name as apparently it had been included in the hosts section of the invitation. Mel was best at schmoozing, leaving you and Kino to trade glances and giggle at each other.

There was little to be done after that, with every Medarda’s attention divided as you floated in the background, having insanely good food and drinking enough to kill a horse. When the condescension became too much you retreated to the empty games room, finding an equally reclusive Mina. It seemed that today for whatever reason she was willing to tolerate you, stealing nibbles of your salt and vinegar crisps as you sat curled in the glow of the fairy lights. It was odd to rest in a beanbag that wasn’t lumpy and ripping at the seams, the leather supporting you perfectly

“Enjoying the party?” Sweet silk asked, wrists melodic with bangles.

“Yes Ambessa, of course,” You rushed out, “It really is marvellous,”

“Don’t lie, child,” She says with a snort, joining you on an opposite beanbag, “They’re a bunch of shits and yet they give me lots of money, so here they sit rotting away the soul of my house every summer,”

It felt rich coming from her and yet you nodded like you understood. Her hand moved in a sweeping arch, a thickly packed joint suddenly appearing in your eyeline.

“Let’s make it more fun, shall we?”

You laughed, loud and unbidden. You were going to smoke with Ambessa Medarda. There was no way in hell you would say no, whether it was a trap or not. An unnecessarily fancy gold lighter lit the end as she sucked it between those plump crimson lips, leaving a pretty ring for your own to rest upon. It felt seductive, how your lips caressed where hers had laid, your own tinging a slight pink as you passed it back and forth.

This was some quality shit, even you knew that. It was easy to tell because it was blowing your fucking socks off. Everything swam in a pleasant buzz, as she murmured tale after stupid tale about the party’s attendees until you were howling with laughter, tears leaking out of your eyes.

Ambessa liked you like this, unbidden and open as you basked in your amusement and relaxation. If she had known seeing you like this would be easy, she would have offered you drugs your first day. When she said as much, her tongue a little looser, you giggled again as you finished the joint.

You were useless after that. She wore it better, all it did was make her calmer, tone more sultry. You were in awe of her, and Mina clearly didn’t care for your harsh tugs as you hung on her every word.

Mel found you forty minutes later, higher than the empire state building with a plate piled high with goodies for you and Ambessa to share.

“Fuck off,” Mel growled, eyes widening at her mother’s easy smile, “You’ve left me alone to host so you can soak my friend in drugs?”

“I soaked too, Mel, I’m not mad,”

You giggled, half choking on a brioche stuffed with lobster. Mel silenced you as you inhaled an olive.

“You could handle it, Dear,” Ambessa said affectionately, “You always were my little social butterfly,”

“I thought I was a fox,” Mel snapped, “You look less like a wolf and more like a malfunctioning hyena,”

That set you off again, your hand covered your mouth as your shoulders shook. This seemed to be the final straw for Ambessa as she fell into giggles too.

“I-” A loud huff, “Damn you both, I hate you,”

Mel stormed out, leaving you behind to recover from your mindless adventure. It took another hour, evening beginning to beckon, before you were coherent.

“What a nice little break that was,” Ambessa said, body overly close to yours, “But dinner is looming and my daughter is unfortunately right, I must host,”

The rest of the party was spectacular in your eyes. Kino found you, half sobered up, and dragged you into beer pong with his friends. It was clear this was less approved by the hidden nature of the location, wrapped in the hedge mazes. That seemed a disaster, drunk kids in their twenties stuck in a maze, but it was so fun you hardly cared. Mel was looser too, her friend Jayce and Viktor had popped by, opening her up like a hesitant flower.

“I hope Mum wasn’t awful,” Mel muttered as she cuddled into your side on a bench in the maze, “You seemed quite chummy,”

“I-I know she isn’t always good to you, Mel,” You muttered, lust and infatuation receding slightly as you gazed at your friend, “I’m sorry if I upset you by hanging out with her,”

Mel paused, flicking a leaf off her skirt as she snuggled deeper into you, “I’m quite glad actually, it’s made her more tolerable, and despite her faults, she can be fun”

Your eyebrows rose, surprised at the admission. Their relationship was strained, but seemed in a drunken haze that was easier to process.

Dinner, the actual sit down portion in the huge marquee, was exquisite. You were on the head table, nestled between Mel and Kino as everyone laughed. The amount of odd, worship dances that happened around Ambessa was unnerving, but her still relaxed shoulders made you snort.

As the party continued and the sky was painted a deep red, Mel tugged you into an aggressive dance than had you toppling and rolling down the large hill, grass stains staining your clothes.

What a great summer. Even if you did want to fuck her mum. Shut Up.

The next morning you were less elated. You had no memory of getting into bed, though you were half in your covers with water on your bedside table. Whispers echoed, too far to reach, a tender kiss to your temple.

The culprit was rather obvious once you stumbled into your bathroom with a yawn. Sharp, clear red lips rested against your skin as they had the joint, making your heart flutter. Hesitant fingers grazed it, matte colour coming off on your fingers as an echo refined in your memory.

“Sweet dreams, Pretty girl,”

You scrubbed it away reluctantly, stomach swimming.

The entire grounds were pristine, cleaners having come in as people left in droves in the early morning. It was now late afternoon, the sun well past its warmth peak for the day as you forced down a salad and some bread. Health, greenery, water. These demands your body cried bitterly, who knew weed and wine was bad for you?

Mel and Kino were in a similar way, becoming one with the sofa as friends played bleakly on a screen that blew out the quality in a ridiculous way. You curled under Mel’s arm, yawning.

“She lives,” Kino mutters, flicking your ear, “You did a backflip off the pong table, or at least tried to,”

Mel started to laugh, nodding at your baffled expression, “Mum caught you and send us all to bed like naughty teenagers,”

“Really?”

“No,” Kino scoffed, “She called you a half brained twat and took you to bed,”

“Fantastic,” You groaned, there went your chances, not that they’d ever really existed, “Where is she? I need to apologise,”

“Away, work trip for four days,” Mel nibbled against a pretzel, the salt soothing, “She said no parties whilst she’s gone, hypocrite,”

There was a party and your behaviour was infinitely worse, almost ridiculously so.

Mel and Kino’s friends were eclectic, a mixture of posh and poor that mingled like oil and water yet it seemed to work. A blue and pink haired couple tried to eat each other’s faces as Kino did obnoxious tricks into the pool. Vile, candy flavoured vodka mixed with champagne blurred everyone’s vision as you suddenly felt like a reckless teenager. You’d never had this phase and now you were living it in a random manor house in the Surrey outskirts.

Still, as the hours ticked by you missed her murmurs to Mina, your morning tea being prepared and her knowing, conspiring glances across at you. You missed the burn of your skin as she entered a room, her spiced and strong smell. You missed her.

When Ambessa returned, she did not seem to suspect anything, weathered from business and silent throughout dinner. You tried to prompt some amusement, though all she gave you was an arched brow or eye roll. Though she joined in on movie night, she curled up alone on a chair with Mina, reading through documents as she went.

Hours later, wrapped in Egyptian cotton, you felt restless. There was nothing to do but shake the energy out. Ambessa lingered in your thoughts. Perhaps she was angrier about your acrobatics attempts that you’d prepared for, or had grown bored of your overly sarcastic, childish antics. You yearned for her, crush firmly cemented like a rough pebble in your stomach, slamming down as a reminder with each movement you took.

Your multifaceted hunger led you to the pretty kitchen, the whole house still as you tiptoed in.

Or so you’d thought.

Ambessa stood, swaying slightly with a glass of wine in her hand. She looked different like this, undone from nonsense as she fell away to reveal the sharp mind beneath.

“Just going to stand there, little one?”

You gulped, “I’m sorry to bother you,”

“Now, when did I say that?”

“You didn’t,” You conceded with a nervous grin, “I just didn’t realise anyone was awake,”

Her gaze fixed on you fully then, golden swirls captivating, “What did you need?”

“Food,” You blurt, “Was just going to grab some crisps or something,”

She moved into motion at once, flickering on the hob light, “I’ll make you something,”

You shook your head, stumbling platitudes about her kindness and your ability to sort something.

“For god sake, girl,” She huffed, tone amused, “Let me do as I please in my own home,”

That shut you up, her hips moving side to side as she assembled various things. The lull you had created did not last for long, she seemed far more talkative than hours earlier.

“There is one thing I have yet to tell my children,” A spoon smashed against porcelain, “I had the house fitted with cameras just before you all came home,”

Cameras, that was a safe investment. You were honestly surprised she didn’t have them befor- The fucking party.

Another nervous laugh leaked out, “I-I see,”

“I’m not cross with you, Dear,” A glug of oil, a crunch of pepper, “Or them, really. I am not an idiot, though it did reaffirm one thing,”

“What’s that?” Your heart was hammering into your lungs, making your voice oddly airy.

“You haven’t got any common sense,” She snorted, sliding a glass of wine your way, “Backflipping off of my pingpong table and then swimming paralytic two days later,”

You blushed, taking a small sip, as you nodded, “My mother used to say my head wasn’t on right,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes taking on a dark glint as she turned back to the bowl of marinade, “Then do allow me to screw it back on for you,”

It felt weirdly erotic coming from her, your stomach tensing, your blood boiling. The pan was put away again. What the fuck was she making you?

She appeared in front of you, “Here, eat your food before it goes sour,”

There was nothing in her hands, you didn’t understand.

Her once bare lips now glistened slightly with spices, smirked fixed on her face, “Come along, wouldn’t want to upset your hostess when she’s gone to so much effort,”

Warm, firm lips met yours as you felt every sense turn into a white, blank nothingness. She’d offered herself as a meal and you ate like a woman starved. Each lick was salty and hot, her taste mingling with the chili oil until it was only her, blissfully her. Her hands were rough and assured, tugging open your shirt till all the buttons popped off. You needed her, all your worries melting against her tongue as she groped against your chest.

“You just need some instruction,” Her ragged voice purred, “Someone to obey,”

You felt yourself gush, eyes fluttering as you nodded pathetically against her.

Ambessa’s tongue against your nipple had you mewling, body twitching as she shushed you. You didn’t want to be loud, lest she stop, but gods was it hard when she twirled your nipple over calloused fingers. She had you shivering, trembling and gasping within minutes, eyes glazed as your wildest sex fantasies were smashed down in rating by the real fucking deal.

Her words were ambrosia, drenching you in joy as she called you some of the most disgusting things you’d heard perhaps ever.

Being fucked against a kitchen island by your friend’s mum hadn’t been in your summer bucket list and yet here you were. Her fingers were wicked, ruining you as she suffocated your moans with her free palm. You had already leaked onto yourself and the floor, but it wasn’t enough for her.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” She muttered, “You can’t resist it, can you? Slave to your own cunt,”

Your reply made no sense, and she laughed against your neck, nibbling and lapping at the bead of sweat there. Your thoughts meant nothing, she was right, you were truly a slave to your physical self. By the time she had you squirting against her palm, you would have mindlessly walked over hot coals for her, cumming all the while.

Her cunt, perfect and warm, crushed your face as she managed to sit atop you on the island. It was the sort of core memory you didn’t expect to make, your practiced tongue working in overdrive to please the goddess above you.

Her whines and grunts were delicious, as was her dripping wetness, as she tugged your hair with a selfish, possessive vice grip. Her orgasm ripped through her, her back arching as you managed to twist her nipples in return for her earlier fondling, her eyes rolling.

Slipping off of you with a grin, she tossed you a damp cloth and wiped herself down.

“Sweet girl,” She slurred in your ear, placing a kiss there, “Knew you’d been a fun toy,”

It would have made your cunt flutter, it would have forced you into a passionate and sweaty round two as you lose your mind to pleasure again, if it weren’t for the fact that you actually sort of really, very seriously liked it.

But you? You were just a long line of sweet little fucks and you’d betrayed her daughter to join the notch on her bedpost.

Fucked. Doomed. Shattered.

#ambessa x reader #reader insert #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa smut #arcane

185 notes · View notes

cannibal-alien · 20 days ago

Text

⟡ ݁₊ . father’s day headcanons to appreciate the forsaken dads! ft. 007n7, shedletsky, & guest 1337 ❤︎

hopefully i didn’t miss any1 i don’t think there’s any other dads tho�� happy father’s day everypony >_< i know shedletsky isn’t really confirmed/not canon to be 1x4’s dad but shuuush. let me have this

🍗 shedletsky

shed’s more of a classic chill backyard barbecue dad if you know what i mean,, he’s never really had the experience of actually raising a child like n7 & 1337 do, but he still supports 1x4, even if they make it hard with their… attitude. shed will reach up just to ruffle her hair, grinning as he tries to get her to crack a smile, even just a little one. 1x4 always huffs and shoves him away, giving off “ugh dad!! you’re embarrassing me!!”vibes. plus shed always has an endless supply of dad jokes and you will be hearing them. You Will

🍔 007n7

i don’t even need to say this but c00lkidd is n7’s whole entire world. the fridge is covered in his drawings and anything really special gets its own frame on the wall. even if some pictures aren’t perfect, like the one where c00lkidd’s completely covered in birthday cake, they still earn a rightful spot up there. and saying no to the kid was almost impossible. on the off chance n7 does, he feels kinda bad about it afterward, even if it was needed. he’s a very sweet dad who just loves his kid with his whole heart, even if he’s a bit clueless now and then

🪖 guest 1337

soooo guest 1337 basically wins dad of the year every year. he’s fun, caring, and would do absolutely anything for charlotte, no duh. 1337’s the one who taught her how to stand up for herself and for other people, and he couldn’t be more proud of his girl. he’s not really the best in the emotional department sometimes, but he’s damn good at giving advice and pushing her to be her best self. despite being an army dad, he’s not too strict, but he is a little overprotective of course. 1337 plz adopt me 💔

#forsaken headcanons #shedletsky headcanons #forsaken shedletsky #forsaken guest 1337 #guest 1337 headcanons #forsaken 007n7 #007n7 headcanons #these aren’t really x reader so #divider by priestboy

105 notes · View notes

tab1or1x · 10 days ago

Text

what if you let shidou tattoo his initials on you however he wants..?

(with pic of tat 🥳)

a lil suggestive

yes i did waste my time on this. why? cus daydreaming. this is my first like… real post? enjoy ig. i love shidou so much by the way 🤗 please dont get a tat of someones intitials unless your 100% sure of it 😭😭

- he would beg for FOREVER until you agree.

- prob definitely has some sort of experience with a tattoo gun.

- shidou is canonically good at art, so atleast if he goes all out (he does) it wont be too bad.

- might feel bad if you dont like it. but either way-

- LOVES LOVES LOOOVESSS that hes marked you as his permanently forever. yea hes a lil coo like that 💔

- atleast thats how he thinks of it.

-even so, hed either choose a more secluded spot, or one thats visible. wouldnt do it in a spot you didnt like though ofc.

- he would let u put it basically anywhere u want ofc. its your body afterall. now if youre letting him choose…

- when i said “secluded” i meant “suggestive”. he would do spots like between your tits, ass, hip, or maybe underboob. basically, anywhere he can look during ykw.

now, idk if this is completely accurate to what he would do but it was a stupid idea i had and wanted to share 😋

the one with the flame is just me getting carried away, since thatll be a bit detailed for a simpke tattoo like that. (but honestly, its shidou so who even knows.) i think it would look something like the one on the left. REALLY messed up on the y oops. you get the vision ig.. this is so half assed but…hey ur the one still reading 😤

cursed-carmine | cafekitsune

54 notes · View notes

that-smallinjured-bowylamb · 1 month ago

Note

Saw the twst thing, I'm not sure what exact context you mean by creepy!Yuu but I can toss in some brainrot about Silver and if it doesn't fit you can trash this ask 👍

I imagine Yuu DOES have morals enough, or just a fear of getting caught, but they're downbad 💔

Things he's UNAWARE of:

They follow anyone on Magicam who occasionally takes pictures with him (Kalim, Lilia, etc.), and likes ONLY the pictures he's included in.

They try poking their noses around people who are close to Silver but not as perceptive as Lilia, like Sebek or Kalim. But this time, to obtain his training pictures. I'm mostly referencing the canon fact (birthday card) that he uses his phone to take selfies of his horse riding posture, but I also think he would do the same for any other training just to keep track of how much stronger he's gotten.

They take their own photography or pay Rook to take his photos 😭

They're absolutely scent-addicted, and will "borrow his clothes for an extended period of time" if he leaves it around. And I'm sorry to say this, but to inhale it. They absolutely want to do this with his bedsheets/pillow/blanket too, pulling them out of there would be harder than trying to get the holy Excalibur out of its rock.

They either try to use the same exact soap brand as him or replace his soap brand with the one they use to match scent, and he wouldn't know.

They will spend their entire time staring, brushing, or caressing Silver if he's asleep. And sometimes they pull off ways to make him sleepier just so they can spend more time like that.

Things he DOES know about:

They always ask him to train, especially with the baton. Or ask to horse ride with him, and yes, double points for the riding crop he's sometimes shown holding. He just thinks they ask because they're interested in training, though. Not that they want to see his "aggressive" face or the sweat beading off. Or the aforementioned tools by his hand.

They get away with so many things by telling Silver it's "custom in my world!" and that NOT doing it would be weirder for them. I.E. sitting on his lap, clinging around his arm, cheek/forehead/neck kisses, pressing his hand against their cheek and maybe gnawing a bit?, nuzzling against him, hugs from behind or just generally being touchy, sharing food/drinks + the same utensils. The furthest they got was probably trying to feel his muscles and just saying anything like "oh, I was just wondering how they felt since you seem to train so often. You must be pretty strong! I aspire to look like this!" — basically, Yuu is a smooth talker, at least enough to fool someone like Silver.

On the food note I've been having a thought in mind. Remember rabbit fest where everyone was sharing the same food, and they allowed Silver to take the first bite? Well I just imagine Yuu would be BEGGING to get the next bite afterwards, and nobody would know why. But since they seem desperate, everyone lets them take the next bite, and Yuu IMMEDIATELY nibbles off just enough to eat everything from the exact same spot where Silver bit it.

Was going to add more but it's pretty long for an ask that I'm still shaky on, lmfao.

- ☕

Ahhhh I understood though!

I like how you write creepy!Yuu with Silver though! (Omg Lilia save your son PLEASE 🙏 😭)

I love how this is coincidentally how creepy!Yuu acts but if you want more context;

Creepy!Yuu and Victim!reader is basically, obviously an AU that goes to TWST. BUT, before TWST reader is stalked by yuu, I'm not sure how to explain this, since the concept of creepy!Yuu and victim!reader isn't out yet!

But the thing is yes, creepy!Yuu is real creepy with their behavior (and I'm going to emphasize it). The yuu in this AU is basically some stalker that grows obsessed with you (think of it like yandere, but the TWST cast isn't, just one yandere) thing is, since this is your first take on Creepy!Yuu with Silver, I'd say this is pretty accurate(<-yuu does that to reader btw [SPOILERS‼️‼️]) Yes yuu does act that way, but there's more to it;

I'm saying Yuu can be creepy BEYOND extent, entering your bathroom whilst showering and you wouldn't even know it, tbh I'm not sure if I can say it all bc the concept is still in my drafts, so please wait for more to be released!

Oh, and by the way, how would you like the creepy!Yuu to be revealed? Bc Victim!reader and yuu transports to TWST after like- reader gets traumatized by them-

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst silver x reader #silver x reader #twisted wonderland silver #Creepy!yuu #victim!reader #twst!au

58 notes · View notes

lestatlioncourtt · 1 month ago

Text

guys I actually have NO IDEA of how they are going to make byler canon bc will would never confess his feelings, this would be so out of character for him, we see throughout the show that he's the personification of a people pleaser, he would never confess his feelings for mike knowing this would affect his and el's relationship (finn said in an interview that in the beginning of s5 mike and el are "definitely still a couple") not to mention the risk of losing his best friends, outing himself and probably suffer from even more homophobia, the confession should come from mike but we don't even know (explicitly) if he likes will or even knows will's feelings for him, so that's a problem, and all the others ways I can think of making byler happening would be so heartbreaking 💔 I'm actually so scared because everyone and their goddamn mom's on that cast keeps saying the ending is bittersweet, oh its bittersweet WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY THAT, I'm crashing out I went from being superdelusional this morning to being in 100% byler doubt, because if neither of them are confessing to eachother imagine someone outs will to mike and all of their friends IMAGINE HOW WILL WOULD FEEL, like I think it's obvious that in this season either mike or will are going to be vecna's target so the suffering is guaranteed, but what about the sweet parts??? DOES WILL GETS HIS HAPPY ENDING??? I can't take anymore I need this teaser asap

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things season 5 #stranger things #strangers things theory #vecna #netflix #tv shows #movies #fandom #80s #television

65 notes · View notes

ajokeformur-ray · 2 years ago

Text

The breeze seems to whisper 'I love you' // Astarion x gn!reader / Tav

This is my first Astarion fic so I really hope I bring him justice; he deserves that and everything else which is good in life. It took me three days in total to fall head over heels for him, and this piece is dedicated to @ace-tarion for being such a sweetheart in this, as in everything. I love you, dude!❤️

I haven't played BG3, I know maybe 80% of the plot (tadpoles in brain = bad = travel to Baldur's Gate), I've watched a ton of Astarion clips, so apologies for any inaccuracies or inconsistencies. I'm just here for Astarion (though I'd love to play BG3, I don't have any technology capable of running it💔).

Content: You/Tav x Astarion (established relationship), canonical past for Astarion is hinted at and laced within narrative, cuddles, animals referred to as 'snacks' within mentions of Astarion (only a mention; no actual description of animal-feeding/mentions of anything pertaining to animals being fed on).

Summary: Night-time falls, your heart sinks into your stomach as surely as your body sinks into your bedroll, and you want cuddles from Astarion.

Word count: 1, 624.

I am accepting requests for Astarion ❤️ no smut and no pregnancy/birth/kids!!

You lay on the cold, hard ground. The earth is unforgiving, soaking up the day's sweat without offering any kind of reprieve. Stones and hard clumps of dirt dig into your back through the bedroll, the wind is slightly too cold and it penetrates your thin blanket, haphazardly thrown over you in an attempt to ward off the elements.

Everyone has a tent, except you, and you make it a point to lay as close to the fire as you can on the nights Astarion is out hunting; it wouldn't do to help yourself to his tent. He keeps his tent away from the others, though still adhering to the semi-circle layout chosen by the others around the campfire. He would not mind you letting yourself in to his tent, he would likely welcome returning to you there, and yet you cannot justify it even to yourself.

After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserves every ounce of privacy and the security of knowing his tent is his own.

You sit up just enough to shuffle yourself closer to the fire, curling inwards as a shiver wracks your body. It isn't cold, necessarily, but your temperature is not conducive to a restful sleep. You lay on your back, gazing up at the stars which punctuate the sky, breaking up the inky black and blues with pinpricks of white, yellow, and some dull spots of grey from the stars which died many eons ago and are now fading from the sky.

You promise yourself you'll try to remember their placement in the sky.

Despite the best of intentions, you know that you won't.

Your vision goes blurry at the edges as you continue staring up at the night sky, looking for any constellations you recognise by way of finding yourself a bedtime story to recount as you try to fall asleep. The leaves on the trees sway gently in the breeze, and your mind wanders, as it so often does, to Astarion. Your sweet vampire, who simultaneously breaks your heart and put it back together in the same moment every time you uncover more of who he is, more of his past.

Oh, but you love him.

Of its own accord does your body take a long, deep breath in, your heart sinking into your stomach as surely as your body melts into the bedroll. All of your thoughts of Astarion and all of your feelings for him are safe inside yourself, and they serve you now in warming you from the inside out.

Your eyes slide closed, and if you press your forehead closer into your blanket, you can almost tell yourself that you can feel Astarion lying down beside you, you can smell bergamot and feel his silver hair tickle your cheeks, you can feel his fingers intertwined with yours, your legs tangled together, his crimson eyes upon your face so intently fixed like he's scared to blink in case you disappear before his eyes, leaving him clutching only the cold night air, his equally cold body pressed against every line of yours...

You smile to yourself and burrow deeper into your blanket, feeling sleepier, warmer and closer to your rest by the second. Thoughts of Astarion flood your mind and you curl up tighter, as if to keep all these thoughts right where they are. You know if you open your eyes that you'll be alone; you know not where Astarion is this night, but you know he is trying to sate his hunger with the snacks which live in the forest.

So you keep your eyes shut.

As you allow yourself to slip further into your threshold consciousness, you wonder what Astarion would say to you if he returned at this very moment...

"Hello, sweet. Gods, you are beautiful."

You smile again and squeeze your blanket ever tighter to you. Yes, he would probably say something like -

Wait.

Was that - ?

With great caution do you open your eyes, ready to slam them shut again once you see that Astarion isn't there, that he didn't just speak to you. But instead of the cold hard truth slamming into you, flowers bloom in your heart because Astarion is here, looming over you, his silver curls seeming to be glowing in the soft moonlight. His crimson eyes seem black, his charming smirk soft at the edges as he gazes down at you with obvious fondness, vulnerable such as it is.

Of all the stars above me, this one's the prettiest, you think to yourself, and you open your eyes wider to better enjoy the view.

Astarion's smirk melts until it becomes a smile as he kneels down beside you, one of his arms reaching out to brush a leaf away from your face. His fingers ghost across your skin, and you shiver. "Thank you, darling. I know I'm beautiful. Not enough people mention it." His joke fades into vulnerability, as it so often does around you.

But it is no matter. You always meet him where he is, and right now it is no exception.

You smile at Astarion, all of the love for him shining in your eyes until they look like molten galaxies, and he swears he feels his heart, which stopped working centuries ago, skip a beat. You are unguarded where you lay in your threshold consciousness, not embarrassed to have spoke aloud your thoughts, and Astarion wonders if the old saying, that love makes fools of people, is true. You lay at the foot of a vampire, at the foot of a predator, smiling at him, physically and emotionally vulnerable, completely unguarded. Most others at the camp are asleep, Astarion can hear, and yet here you are...

Wait. Why are you awake?

"Darling," Astarion's voice is a hush and you strain your ears to be able to hear him. He bends closer to you to accommodate, anticipating your needs before you fully register them yourself, "Why aren't you sleeping? No harm shall befall you when I'm here." Long ago, he had sought your protection, but now he wanted you both to be safe. If this is how the mighty fall, then Astarion must admit that he is happy he lost his balance. He quite likes the view from down here.

You shake your head and shuffle closer still, unable to get close enough to your most beloved vampire. "Can't sleep without you." I just want to be held.

Oh, help him, but this is devastating in its simplicity. His undead heart bleeds and words have brought Astarion to the point where they run dry. Instead, he stands, and reaches a hand out to you. The message is clear - he wants you to accompany him to his tent, he wants to carve a piece of heaven out with you amongst all the chaos unleashed, he wants to hold and to be held.

Astarion just wants you, and who are you to deny him?

One of your hands slips into his while the other pulls the blanket away from you and Astarion's smile widens as he effortlessly pulls you up to stand beside him. You bend to scoop up your bedroll, and follow Astarion into your tent. The door flap flutters in the wind as Astarion releases it, and it settles in place like a butterfly finding a flower.

You find yourselves easily, your bedroll dumped next to Astarion's, pushed up close until his bedroll becomes a double. It's a well established routine for the two of you, with you spending more nights here than you don't. You never enter his tent if he isn't here, and you certainly never come in without his permission. One day, Astarion will find the words to convey his appreciation for your concern, but until then, he will remind you at every chance he finds that you are always welcome. He finds it greatly ironic that you seek permission to enter space and he, a vampire, does not. He knows he is welcome, wanted, cherished, loved.

It took some work for the both of you to get here, but his months with you are the counterweight to the hell he escaped from.

He'll never be able to thank you enough, he has no idea what he is doing, but perhaps this is a start.

Somehow, through the fuzziness of denied sleep, you end up back in bed, your blanket around you and Astarion's still chest under your head. He lays beneath you like he is patiently waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, and you take the opportunity to wind both of your arms around his waist and squeeze, pulling yourself up just enough to be able to bury your face in his neck. One of your legs slips between his, anchoring the two of you together.

Slowly, like he's afraid to move too quickly in case you disappear within his grasp and leave Astarion holding nothing but the cold empty night air, his hands settle upon your back and a sigh which seems to come from deep within him spells peace for the both of you. "This is nice," Astarion's voice rumbles through your ear and you press yourself ever closer to him, unable to get close enough. Your arms constrict around him again and you feel yourself smile as all those sleepy dreams you were having earlier are now here, beneath you, wrapped around you. As you hold on tighter, so too does Astarion, until the two of you are so completely intertwined that the elements cannot reach you. He has no body temperature and yet you are the comfiest and the warmest you have ever been.

Safe.

This time, Astarion doesn't tell you that you accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion comfort #astarion fluff #bg3 x reader #bg3

682 notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 8 months ago

Note

Hi there! This is my first time requesting and I hope I’m doing this correctly. If not, feel free to ignore this. I wanted to request Bubba Sawyer with a noise sensitive reader who jumps at every little noise they hear and goes to him to calm down bc Bubba is big teddy bear energy. If you don’t want to, that’s totally okay, I just wanted to ask. Thank you ^^

Bubba x reader who is sensitive to noises

Rip reader your boyfriend probably sleeps with his chainsaw like a teddy bear💔/hj

Notes: reader is gn

CWs: mentions of canon typical violence

its not that bubba himself is loud or makes sudden noises- its just that... the things he uses and his family and his home are prone to noise at any given notice

his chainsaw is.... loud... and so are his brothers- and if you guys are still living in the family home, the house settling can make one feel uncomfortable... not even taking into consideration the drafts or the floorboards or-

bubba does his very best to be as quiet around you as possible- he moves so so carefully to make sure you can prepare yourself... if youre fine with basic level sounds that arent loud or sudden let him know! the poor man is going to worry and believe that ALL sound is a no-no!

makes sure you have the stuff you need in your room for when theres... live meat.... running around the house so you can stay away from all the screaming and gore and-

holds your head in his hands to try to soothe you... rocks you back and forth as he tries to mumble something- nothing really comes out but its the thought that counts... head in his chest and everything

so so protective of you, tries to show you that theres nothing to be scared of and does everything he can to try to find the source of the noise to either show you theres nothing bad going on and/or to silence it if possible

genuinely so such a sweetheart when it comes to you, and will do everything he can to make you as comfortable as possible- just say the word and hes going to be right on it!

#bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer x you #bubba sawyer imagine #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher imagine #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers imagine #canon x reader #canon x you #x reader

118 notes · View notes

legrzybek · 1 month ago

Note

I am the angstling and I feed on angst,,, jk jk, but could I possibly request to see some more of your ideas for forsakened azuretime? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

mY BAD FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS I GOT SIDETRACKED SO MANY TIMES I WAS STRUGGLINF

THIS IS SUCH A MESSY RAMBLE MB IM JUST TYPING WHATEVER COMES TO MIND

so hmmm. how they are in combat,..,

in my mind, two time is very sneaky and stealthy, relying on that element of surprise to attack, then retreating back into the shadows,, upfront combat is a bit of a problem for them, however they're quite good at dodging. when a hit lands on them for the first time though,,, that's when it goes downhill and they're rather easy to take out by then.

meanwhile azure is straight up brute force, his movements uncoordinated and unpredictable, pummeling at the opponent with whatever he can like a violent beast. however, he sometimes hesitates or suddenly stops in his tracks, before lashing out again and continuing the chase with even more vigor.

azure is very VERY unstable due to constantly trying to fight for control within his own mind. iM having a hard time trying to describe it but his emotions are greatly amplified and fluctuate constantly, his thoughts clash with eachother so hard, every word that he tries to speak is twisted by the spectre's influence, and he's fully aware of everything andjust going insane with every moment. it's actual torture for him dude fuck the specshit

also. both pre-rework and reworked two time are canon in my interp

its kind of hard to describe bc their mental state is like. a weird mix between self-awareness and delusion buT after everything that happened, i feel like two time isn't just blindly devoted to spawn, as much as they try to desperately believe that,, they feel like a disgrace for even having any kind of doubt, even hatred, towards their god, quickly trying to push those thoughts away, yet they endlessly creep up again.

if it truly loved them, would it really want to make them suffer like this? no, no, they've been blessed unlike any other. everything they had to do, have to go through now, is necessary to see if they're truly worthy of that blessing. it will have its payoff. they just need to prove themselves. the almighty knows what's best for them, after all. it loves them. it's all because it loves them. right??? right???????????

before killer azure came into the mix i feel like they were leaning more towards that delusional state, primarily focusing on the spawn, somewhat repressing some memories regarding azure etc etc buT it all came crashing down when he appeared, their true self coming to light,, they couldn't repress shit anymore, unable to keep up that facade of an ideal follower, became a lot more prone to breakdowns etc

the spectre took notice of that overall crisis and was like hey i can make this even worse LMFAO

they recieved their dagger, and ok yeah that alone was enough to make rhem feel uneasy and they were reluctant to use it but then. the second life stopped activating. AND THAT RLY FUCKED WITH THEM,., they were convinced it was due to that doubt and dwindling faith, they weren't worthy in the eyes of spawn anymore, all that stuff,,,

but even then. i think they avoided stabbing azure like the plague. i REFUSE to believe they'd just mindlessly keep doing that 💔💔 the one time they deliberately did it was bc they felt pressured to do it,, they have to help their team like this now, and if they don't everyone will have a problem with them and scold them (which no thats just what their own paranoia believed would happen but in reality i imagine the other survivors actually like understanding why they'd react the way they do after learning what happened between those two,, ofc yeah theyre still unsettled by them esPECIALLY BC THEY NOW KNOW THAT THEY KILLED A MAN but dawg theyre clearly struggling why would they actively add more salt to the wound they genuinely dgaf if they stab the killer or not)

other than that, they only did it in some cases when they were backed into a corner and/or close to dying as some kind of instinctual self defense, their body acting against their will essentially. but either way they always felt fucking AWFUL afterwards, usually accepting their death atp. they rly don't want to hurt him again but they still did it so they're the scum of the earth and they never changed - that's what they think

sometimes in rounds with azure they just. hide away in a corner somewhere,, because they can't bring themselves to go out there and face him they think theyre a coward and a disgrace for it but they just can't,, they wallow in shame and pray until either the round ends or they reach lms (orr rarely azure finds them before lms)

i also definitely imagine azure holding their corpse and crying over it before hes forced to get up and throw them to the ground again whoopsies

this has been sittinng in my drafts for WAY TOO LONG so that.s all

#this gets tags bc yea #me answering asks lalala #forsaken roblox #forsaken #two time forsaken #azure forsaken #azuretime #forsaken headcanons #me writing stuff idk vro #me yapping

41 notes · View notes