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milla-frenchy · 9 hours ago

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3k7 | Marcus Acacius x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Acacius returns from Numidia several months after his departure, and comes back to his wife

Warnings: 18+ mdni. fluff, smut, established relationship, Acacius and reader are married and deeply in love, Acacius is devoted to his wife (he’s soft, protective, caring and slightly possessive), oral (m/f), oil massages, size kink, piv, creampie. No age specified

a/n: this fic is just soft and sweet and I hope it will bring comfort to those who need it. This is my love letter to Acacius, basically, after watching Gladiator 2 (no spoilers towards the movie). I love this character so much. I did some research but I'm not an expert on ancient Rome at all.

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for always holding my hand and for beta-ing, @joelmillerisapunk for cheering me up, @iamasaddie for being a sunshine- 🫶💓 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

You felt his presence before he even spoke.

You knew he was here, because all your worries, all the tension in your body, dissipated instantly. All the weight accumulated during those last months was removed from your shoulders, allowing your body to relax and open up.

"My lady..," you heard.

You stood up and faced him, turning away from the fish pond. You murmured his name then hurried towards him to snuggle against his broad, protective chest, where nothing bad could reach you. His arms surrounded you, as his lips kissed your forehead and your hands slid along his waist to his back. The warmth radiated from him, warming your entire being, body and soul.

"You are here, my love," you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You had been holding them back for so long. Too long. Because you didn't want to seem weak, and because you didn't want to let your brain swallow you up in its darkness.

But now Acacius was here, and you could allow your fragility to consume you for a moment, to be your true self, letting your emotions overwhelm you. Because you knew that he would want to absorb them for you, to protect you. To be your man.

"I'm finally here. I missed you, you have no idea. You were always in my thoughts, my beloved.”

You hugged each other tighter, and you buried your face in his chest, rubbing against him, like a cat that marks its territory with its scent.

"I missed you too, Acacius," you replied, finally raising your face to his, staring into those soft brown eyes that you missed so much. The eyes of your husband who had returned from Numidia. Returned victorious, as always, but the worry never left you when he was gone. The intrusive thoughts that made you fear that he wouldn’t come back to you, that he had perished. Or worse, taken prisoner. The highest representative of the Roman Empire on the battlefield, the general of Rome, gods only knew what they would do to him.

Caressing his cheek with your thumb, you chased away those dark thoughts to let yourself enjoy the present. Your husband, your love was there. You brushed his wrinkles, as you took the time to admire his slightly grayer curls, before running your fingers through them.

"You are even more beautiful than when I left," he said in a low, calm voice. You smiled when you heard him, moved by his love for you that was radiating from him. Love that had never wavered during your marriage. He always came back to you, as soon as he had dealt with the burdens placed upon him by the emperors he hated.

"Let me feed you, my love," you said. "And bathe you."

You walked toward the caldarium, his arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist, your body pressed against his. You were holding each other close as you were walking, it had been so long since he left for Africa nova.

“I cleaned myself before I went to the coliseum. You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know. But I love to do it, even if it’s only symbolic.”

He smiled warmly and saw you melt under his stare, then pressed a kiss on your temple to forget the fast beating of his own heart.

You undressed him slowly, layer by layer. Taking the time to place your hands on his chest before you would remove the last fabric, to feel his torso rise under your fingers. To process the fact that he was really back with you. He watched you roam his chest, shoulders, arms along his body, face lowered towards you. Smiling, patient. Soothed.

Once you managed to stop staring at his skin, his muscles, the way his body reacted to your touch, you tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You both smiled, happy and relieved to finally find each other again. You always marveled at his softness, that side of him only you knew.

Your fingers ran along his skin, and you frowned at each new wound you felt under your digits.

“You have so many new scars,” you said with a trembling voice. “I thank the gods for bringing you back to me.”

“Thank the soldiers, my love, they kept me alive,” he replied, brushing your cheek with his thumb. He had great respect for his men, treated them well, and had their complete trust. Tears appeared in your eyes again, and he gently took your chin between his fingers to lift your face up to him.

“I’m here now,” he said, his voice still low and calm. He knew you needed to be reassured, that meeting again always made his next departures more difficult, for both of you. He knew you were already anticipating them.

“I know,” you stammered. “I know. I just missed you a lot.” You tried to push aside the worries that were already trying to infiltrate your mind.

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, I wish I never had to leave. But I have great news: I won't have to go for now. I told the emperors that I wanted to rest and spend time with my wife. Darius will lead the next battle, he's ready.”

“This is such great news, Acacius!” you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nestling your face in his neck. “I'm so relieved.”

He held you against him, before cupping your cheeks in his hands and resting his forehead against yours.

You moved slightly aside to pull off the last layer of clothing, freeing his half-hard cock. You thought about it so often when he was away as your fingers were buried inside you.

You covered him in oil and massaged his shoulders to relieve his physical tension. Then his chest, arms, palms and belly, taking your time. Gently, your fingers worked his skin, finding their favorite spots and his. Lingering there.

Finally, you faced him and took his shaft in hand, before jerking him off gently under the pretext of applying the oil, but you both felt the need grow.

You then asked him to sit in the warm water, and got undressed. The expression in his eyes changed from softness to eagerness and desire while he was watching you.

Fully hard, he stood up when you approached the bath, holding out his hand to accompany you down the steps.

“Sit on me,” he murmured in your ear, his beard brushing your skin. You straddled him, placing your hands on his cheeks before playing with his curls. You leaned down and finally kissed him, tasting his warm, soft, luscious lips. You both moaned and it made you smile, as you felt yourself mesmerized by him being finally there, with you.

He caressed your lips with his tongue, then slid it between them. Your tongues found each other, for the first time in months, and you felt dizzy, savoring him again. His hands roamed your back, squeezed your skin sometimes, while your kiss was only growing more feral and needy. Unable to wait any longer, you grabbed his cock and nestled it at your entrance, making him growl from the depth of his chest.

“Slowly,” he stammered. “No foreplay… don’t hurt yourself.”

“Can’t promise it,” you smiled. It was almost a lie, both of you knew it, you couldn’t take him slowly, your need to feel him being too strong. You sank onto his shaft with your arms resting on his broad shoulders, and you had to bite him slightly when the fat head of his cock began spreading you wide open, until you welcomed him fully, leaving both of you breathless for a second.

“That wasn’t exactly slow,” he laughed once he caught his breath, his hand against the back of your neck as you peppered his collarbone with kisses, your cunt full of him.

“Couldn’t wait,” you breathed and kept kissing him, slowly moving up and down his shaft, mixing your moans with his, your forehead against his. Your breaths mingled, similar in their urgency.

“I missed you. I missed you,” you repeated, while one of his hands was caressing your back, the other resting on your hip to accompany your movements, but sometimes pushing you slightly more down his cock.

“Me too, my love. Finally feeling you like that, wrapped around my cock, is almost unreal after all that time. But I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he said in a breathless voice. “It’s been too long since I felt the warmth of your cunt. Only my hand could give me a release when thoughts about you invaded my mind.”

“Now I’m here. Use me. Come,” you added, rubbing yourself against his lower stomach, knowing you would come soon too.

He held you tight in his arms, setting his pace, fast, powerful, to the point that the water overflowed from the bath with every move. He chased his orgasm, growling in your ear, his body surrounding yours, and you let him use you willingly until his grunts turned into moans and he froze, coming inside you. You pulsed on his shaft just after, milking his cock, feeling him shudder inside you.

You let him catch his breath and his wits before facing him, your hands on his cheeks, and covered his lips, cheeks, forehead with kisses. Already thinking about the moment you would go to your bedroom, and finally take the time to rediscover each other.

Washed, you had dinner, and you told him what happened during his absence. Life in Rome, the dream of Marcus Aurelius long forgotten. The emperors were hated by the subjects, and the cruel games were still allowed.

His worry was growing as he was listening to you. Each time he left, he was afraid a revolt would take place and he wouldn’t be there to protect you.

He asked you the question that had been burning his lips since his return, but that he was holding back, afraid of your answer.

“Did… did anyone hurt you while I was away?” he asked, eyes lowered to the ground, your hands in his. Then finally forcing himself to look at you and hear your answer.

“No, Acacius,” you answered quickly, eager to remove that weight from his shoulders and his heart. “Nothing happened to me, don’t worry.” You knew that he would lose his mind if someone hurt you, just like those who had hurt you would lose their heads.

He kissed your hands when he heard you, keeping them between his, brushing them with his thumbs.

“I couldn't stand it if that happened,” he added, voice shaking.

“I know, my love. But the guards protect me. The ones you chose, and trust completely. I am safe.”

He nodded, even though both of you knew he would never be calm during his absences.

Once fed, he told you about the new conquests. You felt the weariness on his shoulders and in his eyes. His anger. The emperors were making him lose patience, every day a little more.

“Enough about this,” he said finally. “I don't want my return to be full of sadness and bitterness. I saw how tense your body is, I will help you relax with some oil, like you did to me.”

“Acacius… you need to rest after these last few months. Not to take care of me,” you replied softly.

“I am your husband,” he said gently but firmly, moving closer to you until he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Your man. There’s nothing else that I want to do more.” You looked at him and smiled.

Once in the bedroom, he asked you to undress and lie down naked on your stomach. He poured some oil in his hands, and rubbed them together. He didn't take his eyes off you until you were on the bed. "You're so beautiful," he said. “I’m gonna take care of you. I missed it.”

He started by massaging your neck, with perfect pressure. Hands flat, he pressed his thumbs against each tense spot, helping to release the tension step by step. You felt your muscles relax at his touch, from your neck to your shoulders. Once satisfied with the way your body responded to his movements, he coated his hands with oil again, then he took care of your lower back. Your pelvis had been stuck for weeks, and you knew that he would do wonders, as always. That the next day, when you woke up, it would be free of its tensions.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, kissing your shoulder, his moustache brushing your skin.

“Better than ever. Thank you, my love.”

“Perfect. Turn around now, please." You rolled onto your back, and you saw his eyes linger on your breasts for a few seconds, nipples hard after his hands on you.

“Well, General?” you chuckled.

“Mmm. I was staring, wasn’t I? I missed them too,” he confessed, blushing slightly, which was cute, coming from him.

He massaged your arms then your thighs, one by one, down to your ankles and feet, careful not to touch your breasts or even look at them, as if that would end the session prematurely. You didn't take your eyes off him, watching his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his tongue brushing his lip, his teeth nibbling on it.

Finally, you saw his gaze fixed on your pussy, something he had also avoided until then. The candlelight certainly didn’t allow him to see, but he probably knew you were flowing down to the bed. His hand slid from your ankle to your thigh, then brushed your folds before slipping between them, making you whine, as you heard the grunt of approval when his finger got lost in your wetness.

He took a deep breath and said “I’m too eager to taste you, now. But tomorrow I will touch, lick, worship your whole body. I want to kiss you, from your forehead to your toes. Take back what’s mine.”

“I’m yours, always, Acacius. Whether you are here or not.”

“I know, my sweet girl, I know. As I’m yours. Ad vitam aeternam. (forever)”

He got undressed and you loved that he took his time doing it, with a soft smile on his lips. You loved knowing that he would be there with you for several weeks. Every day and every night.

You were never tired of looking at him. His body was a gift from the gods. His strong neck, with veins bulging every time he thrust into you. His broad shoulders, his belly slightly softer as the years passed. His large hands, next to which yours seemed tiny.

His cock.

So massive that on your wedding night you had been so afraid that you had thought of running away. But he had assured you that he would be gentle and go slowly, that he would take care of you. After another hesitation you had chosen to trust him, his tone, his gaze, and two nights later it had seemed that you had been physically made for each other.

But more than his body, his personality, his loyalty, the way he cared about you, made him a loving, reliable, protective husband. You thanked the gods every day for making him yours.

Once naked, he knelt on the bed between your thighs, gently spreading them, finally revealing your pussy. Again, he took a deep breath. His thumb ran over your wet folds.

“You’re drooling for me.”

He lay down, bringing his face closer to your pussy and breathing it in. “Gods, I missed it.”

His tongue traced a stripe between your folds, up to your clit, making you whine. He looked up at you, adding “now, you’re gonna feed me.”

He dove between your thighs, eyes closed, your folds spread by his thumbs, burying his tongue in your core. Feasting, like he did each time he came back, but not only. From the wedding night, and all the others that followed, he had shown you how much he loved eating you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm, sometimes two in a row because he didn’t want to or couldn't stop.

“Acacius,” you whimpered while his nose was rubbing perfectly against your clit. As he had learned during all those years the way your body responded to him.

Back arched, hands lost in his curls, you moved in harmony with his mouth and his tongue, reaching for him, rolling your hips towards him. He pulled back for a few seconds to look at you, and smiled when you cried for his loss. His beard and mustache glistened with your slick and his pupils were dilated as if he had consumed opium to heal a wound. He leaned towards you again, pushing one thick finger between your folds and then sucking your clit. He quickly added a second digit when he heard your needy moans, and licked at your clit. Your hands moved from his curls to your breasts, then to the sheets, your fists clenching on them.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, pelvis tilted towards him as far as possible, as if he wasn't already so close to you. The pleasure that was growing in your core finally exploded, hands and thighs holding his head against your cunt, not wanting him to stop. Docile, he kept licking and pumping you with his fingers, until you stopped clenching on them and released him.

He straightened up, crawling between your thighs, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking on it like his life depended on it before moving on to the other, leaving them glistening with his saliva. Finally, lying between your thighs, he kissed you, his mouth and lips tasting like you.

“I want to taste you too, please,” you begged.

“Of course, my sweet girl. You don’t have to ask. I’m all yours.”

You kissed him before he rolled onto his back, and you straddled him. Covering his cheeks, lips, neck with kisses, then moving down to his torso, hands roaming over his skin. You took one of his nipples in your mouth, sucking, nibbling, licking, then the other, without taking your eyes off him. Admiring his beautiful face. You continued to move down, kissing his belly and hips, your breasts brushing his hard, oozing cock. You took his shaft in hand, and licked his balls, eyes still fixed on him, to see him drop his head back on the bed. “Gods..,” you heard him breathe.

You smiled and left his balls to suck on his tip, lingering on it, giving you some time to get used to its width, to savor him in your mouth again. His precum flowed in your throat. He had been gone for so long that you were afraid you had forgotten the taste, but it was so familiar again now. Your head bobbing on his shaft, you wanted to make him feel good, wetness dripping from your cunt, moaning on his shaft, and you closed your eyes until you heard him growl louder. Then opened them to see his head raised towards you. One of his hands was placed on the back of your neck.

“You like it, General?” you asked playfully, then licked his shaft tongue flat.

“It’s divine.”

You crawled towards him, arousal dripping from your core after sucking him, you kissed his body again and then his lips, before murmuring “take me.”

His eyes darkened and in one movement he laid you down on the bed, under him. Pressing his cock to your entrance, this time he didn't wait, hands tight on your hips, he pushed his whole lenght into your cunt. His massive cock, so hard that you lost your breath. He never took his eyes off you, dark gaze lowered towards you, soft eyes forgotten in favor of a feral stare. He was possessive, claiming your body as he claimed cities during battles, like his body and mind needed it. Like you needed it too.

You tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him, leaning towards you, eyebrows furrowed, veins throbbing. But the relentless rhythm of his shaft spreading your walls made you forget where you were, leaving you moaning and repeating his name. You clung to his shoulders, telling him how much you loved to feel him again, how much you needed it.

“Always taking me so well”, he growled, and you hummed with approval.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck, holding you close, his nose against your ear. He breathed you in, focused on your moans, eager to have all his senses filled with you, after months of being surrounded by dirt, screams and blood.

He was home now, you were his home.

“Acacius,” you whined, his crotch rubbing perfectly where you needed it.

“Come for me. Soak me.”

“Oh gods… Acacius… Acacius,” you whimpered, your orgasm rushing over you, making you pulse on his shaft, your clit throbbing against his skin.

“Just like that, squeezing me so hard… you were made for me,” he murmured, his breathing now ragged as his own pleasure rose.

“I’m… oh gods,” he said, just before cumming inside you, long spurts of cum painting your walls in white. You held him tighter against you, as he moaned in your ear. Your general of Rome, now the most vulnerable man in your arms.

His jolts finally stopped and he straightened up slightly, careful not to crush you under his weight. He covered your skin with kisses, from your neck to your lips, before rolling onto his side and welcoming you against his chest, arms wrapped around your bare body. Both of you waited for your breathings to calm down.

“I cherish it, you know,” you said, curled up against his chest.

“What do you cherish?” he asked, caressing your skin with his large, loving hands.

“Having you like this, in these moments. It always seems unreal to me, your softness and protectiveness towards me, knowing that you lead battles for Rome. Everyone who fought near you evokes your cold blood.”

He hugged you closer and kissed your forehead, brushing it for a moment with his moustache.

“I love you. I’m only myself when I’m home, with you.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

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back2bluesidex · 3 days ago

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Slide - The Trial - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.1k+

Summary:

"Caught in a daze, I persuade her with my own complications"

Alternatively,

You have some questions and Yoongi has no answer.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Angst, reader's turning point. Yoongi's suffering has began.

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: another Yoongi's pov. before we dive into reader's post miscarriage angst. also, I have tagged everyone who asked to be tagged after I closed the request for the first time but I have only tagged the blogs which have age mentioned in their bios.

Read the next chapter

“I want a daughter first and then… ummm… probably a son too. We will name her Yunri. Yoongi plus Gyuri, Yunri.” Gyuri had told him once, latching onto his arm as if it meant everything to her.

Yoongi knew he should have felt warmth bubbling in his chest, he knew he should have felt giddy but what he felt was dread running through the entire course of his body.

Getting married, having kids are two of the things he never planned for in life - not even when he fell in love with Gyuri, not even when he got engaged to her somewhat against his own will.

But now he feels weird, he feels something really really uncomfortable in his chest as he stares at your weak frail form weeping while sitting at the couch.

His own limbs feel like jelly as he realizes again that you were pregnant and the baby was his.

A baby - his and yours.

Why doesn’t it feel so dreadful anymore?

Yoongi puts the entire weight of his body on his arms and pushes himself off of the ground. His toes carry his body towards you.

But he is afraid - what if you push him away now? What if you break when he touches you?

What if you scatter and disappear in fine dust as soon as he gets close to you?

What if… what if… all of this is a dream?

You don’t look at him when he silently sits beside you. It hurts him but he knows better than putting the blame on you.

If anyone is to be blamed, then it’s him for sure.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something - anything. But he only gapes like a fish out of water because his thoughts don’t form a coherent sentence.

Your face is covered with your small palms, Yoongi wants to reach out, clutch those and apologize to you until you forgive him for all the damages he has done.

But he can’t.

Again he is afraid to break you even more.

“Why.. why didn’t you tell me?” Yoongi doesn’t recognize his own voice when it leaves his throat. There is much more pain than he has heard himself speak with in a while - certainly for the first time after Gyuri left.

You sniff, then rub tears off your eyes and stare blankly at the ceiling.

The scene is awfully similar to your and his first night together. He still recalls losing himself in those dark eyes of yours little by little and then finally diving into your abyss.

“There are tons of reasons why. But even if I did, would it change anything?” your voice is completely opposite of his - steady, firm, doesn’t bear a single hint of all the tears he has been watching you shade.

You are truly just another version of him.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” Yoongi scoots a little closer to your body.

You sigh, a deep, resigned sigh that says you are exhausted - both mentally and physically.

“If I told you, wouldn’t you think that this is an excuse? For keeping you all to myself? For not letting you go back to the only woman you have ever loved? Wouldn’t you, Yoongi?” You finally look at him, eyes red with continuous crying.

Yoongi can’t stare into your eyes now. He is ashamed because you are right. He would have thought you are just like other women out there - trying to latch onto him for god knows what.

He licks his lips instead, prepares to say something but you cut him off again.

“Also you said … you don’t want to have kids.” your voice trembles now.

Again you are right - Yoongi definitely doesn’t want kids. But then why losing your and his baby tugs painfully at his heartstrings?

Why?

“But I am responsible for your pregnancy, I- I should have been there for you.” Yoongi tries to reach out for your hand but you move away, standing on your weak feet.

“There’s no point of regretting now. The baby is gone.” you inhale a long breath and then continue, “but I really want to know what you are doing here? At this hour? Right after rejecting me?”

Yoongi stands up too, somewhat hyper, “I didn’t reject you. I was- I was just shocked. You ran away before- before I got to utter a single word, Y/N. I wanted to go after you but-”

“But then the right person came to claim you and you ended up lost in her lips, am I right?” you don’t scream but anger is evident in your voice anyway.

Yoongi recalls the doctor asking him not to stress you out any more.

“It was a trial, Y/N. Me and Gyuri getting back together was a trial. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but when she begged me- I- I couldn’t say no. I knew I was hurting you too and I thought getting back with her would set you free. But I- I was wrong. I wasn’t free myself. I kept thinking of you.” Yoongi stops, gulps the lump in his throat and proceeds to continue, “I know I sound selfish but I got attached to you during our time together. And it is not meaningless to me as you happen to believe. You are more meaningful than most of the people in my life… including Gyuri. I… I broke things off with her, this time forever. And I came to tell you that… that I want to try being with you. If you’d let me.”

You scoff, “and why so? Why do you want to try being with me?”

Your question renders Yoongi speechless. He doesn’t know the answer to your question.

“Tell me, Yoongi, why do you want to try? What is it that you feel for me?” you press more. Your new found determination of cornering him shocks him, but he knows he is the one to blame.

And now that he wonders the answers, he can’t find any firm sentence to offer you.

He still doesn’t know what he feels for you.

“I- I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel for you.”

You laugh, dry but dripping with amusement and anger, “then I would ask you to leave. You may only come back with the thought of getting together with me when you are sure about my place in your life.”

You slowly walk away from him, taking careful steps towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stands there as he feels the void in his chest getting bigger and bigger. A tear escapes his eyes but he still doesn’t know what he is crying for - you? The unborn baby? Or himself?

His real trial, probably, begins here.

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clarkeybabey · 2 days ago

Text

❝ everybody wants a taste ❞

# summary; sharing is not always caring

# playlist; jealous, nick jonas, gold rush, taylor swift, the boy is mine - remix, ariana grande, brandy, & monica!

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I did not intend for this to be so long originally, whoops. kinda hate this

"And you're positive you don't wanna come along, darlin'," George asks for what seems to be the hundredth time this evening as he pulls his coat on, he's been begging for you to rethink your decision for the last twenty-five minutes, and you aren't budging this time.

Shaking your head, "I can't leave my baby two nights in a row, honey, that's outrageous," you frown, gesturing down to your dog who has cuddled herself up against the blanket that's still warm from the dryer. He groans, tossing his head back in an attempt to gain extra sympathy points, "Plus, all this laundry and love island to catch up on."

He comes trudging back towards you, flopping down on the bed dramatically, "Don't wanna go without you," he pouts and you kiss his jutted-out lower lip, when you pull back he's fighting a smile and losing miserably, "I'll be right here waiting for you to get back, I'll even try an' stay up for you, okay?"

Defeated he sighs, ""Kay, I love you," he kisses you this time, a real one, long and slow. His hand comes up to find the pulse point on your neck as his tongue slides against yours.

You catch on quickly, grabbing his shoulders and giving a light shove, "I love you and you know how much I enjoy your kisses, but go have fun with your friends, my lips'll be here when you get back home."

Standing up from where he had thrown himself just moments ago, mumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll fuck off," he throws a wink and a kiss at you as he walks from your shared room, you hear his keys jangle as he grabs them from the hook, followed by a third goodbye, and the door being pulled shut behind him.

You stay exactly how he left you for a while longer, at least until the washer beeps when you get up to swap the laundry around, you find Poppy sat by the door staring at you with her tail wagging a hundred miles per hour.

The idea of a walk this late without George has you wishing you had let him stay, "Sad world we live in, Pop, wishing I had a man to keep me safe from the bloody dark," you let out a breathy giggle to yourself at your words as you shove one of his hoodies over your head and slide your slippers on.

The door slams heavily behind you as you trudge down the stairs, the cool air nipping at your once-warm cheeks wind rash was the least of your worries as you make your way down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, every sense heightening. When Poppy stops to sniff one you fish your phone out of your pocket, tapping through your friend's Instagram stories.

When you get to Chris' you notice George in the background of a video of him and Arthur. Not just George though, him and a girl, he's leaned against the bar on his elbow, smiling at something shes said. It's friendly, and probably a fan, but why has she been touching his arm for what feels like ages? The video felt like it was nearly three hours long.

Screenshotting, you zoom in on the two, not even noticing the scowl that's situated on your face. You feel a pit in your stomach and it burns a hole straight through you, you're not usually the jealous type, but you're never left home either. Fans know you exist and they've slowed down the whole throwing themselves at him thing quite a bit, George never establishes boundaries, assuming they know where the line is.

Deciding you've seen enough of that, you tap through to the next slide, this time it's the four of them standing together, arms over each other's shoulders: Arthur, Chris, George, then the girl you swear you've never seen in your life. Both posts have been up for just under ten minutes.

That was enough social media for the evening, you internally establish on your walk home, turning your phone off just in time for it to buzz from what you assume is a text that you don't even bother glancing at.

Once you've made it back inside, you no longer feel like doing any more laundry, instead you kick off your shoes, hang your jacket up by the door, snuggle up in the warm duvet, and press play on your show. Before you know it you have watched two hours' worth of Love Island and fallen asleep, you don't even notice when the boys come fumbling back into the flat.

That is until George's cold hands meet your cheek, you push him away mumbling about him fucking off, and turn away from him. He snorts and apologizes with his hands up in surrender he knows you can't see, "Better change your clothes and brush your teeth, no outside clothes on my clean sheets," and he does just that before returning from the ensuite, scooting into bed behind you, pulling you into him.

You do your best not to let him cuddle up to you, letting your jealousy overpower how much you'd missed his presence alone, "Missed you lots, sweetheart, Chippo was asking 'bout you." You hum, not bothering with a verbal reply and he quickly picks up on how abnormally stiff you are against him.

"Something wrong," ignorance is bliss and sometimes your boyfriend is exactly that, but you can't blame him for being so confused this time. In his mind, he wasn't even home to piss you off so he's stuck raking through his mind in search of one thing, anything relatively bad he's done through your whole relationship

You shrug, finally speaking up, "No, jus' saw Chris' story, jealousy's a disease and mine chronic," he can hear the pout in your voice, doing his best to stifle a giggle, and failing as your feel rattle through his chest, "Nothing to be jealous of, darlin', she only knew me from your tiktok," he snorts as his fingers draw shapes on your back beneath your shirt.

And now you feel silly for ever thinking something strange was happening, this was exactly why you hardly ever got jealous, it was always something like that or "She just wanted me to get a picture of her with Arthur."

There was never a time where he made you feel as if you shouldn't be secure in your relationship, but when you're left alone your mind does such stupid things, "Dont feel silly, any time anyone comes up to you, I feel the same way, just bite my tongue, 'cause I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"And before you say it, I know you trust me, if you didn't we wouldn't have me it this far," he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. He smiles against your mouth, and when he speaks again his toothpaste-y breath fans over your face, "Now g'night, beautiful, I love you more than you know."

All of a sudden you're a puddle in his arms, "Goodnight, I love you... so much," this time he can hear the smile in your voice at the sound of it he can't fight one of his own.

#george clarke #george clarkey #george clarke x reader #george clarkey x reader #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #georgle clarke x you #george clarke imagine

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apollowhoo · 3 days ago

Note

hello!! I love your Alastor x Child Reader stuff you wrote. So can you please write an one shot of Alastor with a child reader who's the oppisite of him? What i mean is, Alastor is lowkey nonchalant but the reader is actually insaine. I hope i explained enough.

soo... you didn't say anything for a plot so i just made them meet, i hope that's alright with you<33

ALASTOR X INSAINE CHILD!READER

Hell was always the same with the chatter of sinners and the painfull screams all around. Alastor, strolled through the streets, his cane tapping rhythmically against the ground. His wide grin never faltered, though his sharp red eyes darted around, observing everything.

Then he heard it—the most evil laugh, high-pitched and absolutely unhinged. Alastor stopped, tilting his head, the sound was coming from an alleyway just ahead. He adjusted his tie and strolled over to the alleyway.

What he found was... surprising.

A small child, no older than ten, stood over what used to be a rather unfortunate demon. The remains were scattered about in a chaotic mess of black goo . The child, held a jagged piece of metal in one hand, the other smeared with the remnants of the "fun." They're wide eyes shimmered with manicness.

"My, my, what a display!" Alastor exclaimed. "I must say, it’s rare to find someone so creative with their time."

The child turns to him, eyes glowing. “Did you see? Did you see what I did?! He said I couldn’t take his hat—so I took everything else!” They gesture dramatically at the mess behind them.

Alastor chuckled, twirling his cane. “Quite the overachiever, aren’t we? But tell me, dear child, what drives you to such... theatrical carnage?”

They tilt their head, clearly unbothered by his casual tone. “Why not? It’s fun! It’s exciting! Don’t you think so?”

Alastor’s smile twitched. “Ah, yes, but there’s an art to it, my dear. A balance. Chaos is like a radio frequency—too much static, and the signal is lost.”

The child seemed unimpressed. “Static is fun. It’s loud, and no one can ignore it.” They grin wider, holding up the bloodied piece of metal like a trophy. “Want me to make some for you?”

Alastor’s chuckle turned into a full-blown cackle. “Tempting! But I think I’ll pass. Watching you is entertainment enough.” He leaned in closer, his grin sharp. “But do be careful, little one. Hell is like an ocean full of fish, and not all of them appreciate someone making such a mess.”

They automatically lean in just as close, their smile never faltering. “Let them come. I’ll make it fun for them, too.”

Alastor pulled back, his laughter echoing down the alleyway. “Oh, I do believe I’ll enjoy keeping an eye on you. You, my dear, are a star in the making.”

And with that, he tipped his hat and strolled away, his cane tapping the same rhythm. The child curiously follows him.

After all, it wasn’t every day they found someone who appreciated their particular brand of madness.

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talesofesther · 1 day ago

Text

sweet serenity

Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook

Summary: After it all, Lucanis finds his serenity.

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing something for Lucanis so soon, but this sweet little thought came to my mind, and I couldn't let it slide. No spoilers ahead. I hope you enjoy it. Do let me know if you want to see more of him here! Requests are open, as usual.

Masterlist

An air of serenity engulfs Rook's meditation chamber, all quiet and calm. It's late into the night, or at least, what would be the equivalent of it in the fade. The large aquarium that covers an entire wall created ripples of liquid light on the floor and over Rook's skin. She watches for a moment as the fish swim lazily in the water, wondering still, in the back of her mind, how exactly they came to be in the fade.

Her attention wavers quickly, however, when her lips brush against raven hair. A smile comes to Rook's lips, one of her hands gingerly tracing shapes over his naked back. Her fingertips feel over a few bumps, some small, others not so much. Each scar on his skin had already felt the touch of her lips, too.

Lucanis is lying with her, or rather, on her. His head nests snuggly on the curve of her neck, facing away from the aquarium. One of his arms is over her stomach, and a steady and warm grip keeps her as close as humanly possible to him. He'd refused to leave her side, ever since he nearly lost her. Once is enough—the Crow had told her, his eyes glinting with pools of unshed worry, hurt, and longing.

Rook doesn't mind, much on the contrary. It feels almost healing to be so tangled with Lucanis, not knowing where he ends and she begins. She nuzzles onto the crown of his head, laying a chaste kiss there. It makes him shiver, she feels it in the goosebumps that rise on his skin.

He'd reacted the same way on their first night together, too; She had taken his cheeks between both her hands, only so she could touch his forehead with hers, noses bumping together while her fingers buried into his hair with the care of someone holding their world in their hands. And from her touch, she felt something wet drop onto her cheeks, once and then twice. His hands trembled where he held onto her waist. She had opened her eyes to find tear tracks down Lucanis' face. It had worried her, but in the same breath, he clutched at her hand like a lifeline and placed it more firmly onto his skin. On that night, she leaned forward again, her lips then tracing a path from below his eye, down to his cheeks, and until she found his lips again. There had been a distant salty taste to it as she kissed his tears away.

His goosebumps under her fingertips tonight bring the memory to the forefront of her mind, and she smiles, all sweet and adoring.

Everything is all too new for him, she knows. He even tried to deny his own feelings in the beginning. Rook still remembers the words Lucanis had told her not that long ago. You deserve better than to deal with my mess. Many times, he tried to give her an out, to keep her away; in his mind, it was safer that way. She deserved better, and Lucanis feared the possibility of him, or Spite, ever hurting her.

She'd convinced him otherwise. Showed him otherwise. She always did.

And now, Lucanis can happily drown in her embrace. He fears though, that it's without it that he might suffocate.

The quietness lingers, and Lucanis feels faint with the way she loved on him. Her touch is all too gentle and tender, he can't remember a time before her that he'd ever felt something like it. Perhaps never. He buries his nose further against her skin, a shuddering breath passing through his lips. There is a burning in the back of his eyes, but this time it doesn't come from Spite, for the demon has been blissfully quiet for a while now.

Lucanis felt her kiss, her fingers brushing over his scars—as delicate as rose petals on his skin. And he could crumble. He would get on his knees and promise her the world over and over if it meant she'd keep touching him with the gentleness of her hands.

"You're quiet tonight," Rook's soft voice says. It's a mere observation, as she selfishly missed the sound of his voice.

Lucanis hums, all sleepy, as his thumb traces the skin of her hip. "For too long," he holds a pause, they have the time all for themselves anyway, "I've wished for this… peace." The crow can feel her hand wandering, his eyes remain closed but her presence is intoxicating and he can't help but be aware of it. She's fidgeting with his hair, he feels the gentle tugs on the long strands.

"Spite?" Rook inquires, a little distracted.

"Is silent," he sighs. "With you, he's always calm." Lucanis' accent is heavy on his words and Rook smiles again. "I think… you are stuck with me now." There's the slightest bit of hesitation as he says it, still. Lucanis holds onto his breath, a little more awake now.

"Good. I was hoping to be." Warmth and affection drips from Rook's words, and the crow eases the air in his lungs.

Silence engulfs them again, but Lucanis is mindful of her movements. He senses her touch on multiple strands of his hair, working one over the other in a neat, small braid. He assumes as much, at least. It's more than welcome, he nearly purrs at her ministrations. Lucanis' hand lays flat against her stomach, drawing a pattern over her ribs, down to her hip, and back again.

Rook smooths one hand over his hair, fingers burying between soft dark locks, careful of the little braid now resting beside his ear. She picks out three strands and begins anew.

"What are you doing there, mi amor?"

Rook's cheeks become warm, a sheepish tilt to her lips as she bites back a smile. "Hmm, nothing."

She feels the shape of Lucanis' own smile against her skin, though, before he gives a kiss to the skin of her collarbone.

"I am not taking them off, you know," he mumbles, referring to the little artwork she's been doing to his hair.

She buries her nose against him to muffle a chuckle, and Lucanis can't take it anymore. He pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at her with something that could only be described as adoration. All blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

He kisses her, over and over. He feels privileged.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Lucanis' taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #dragon age lucanis #da4 lucanis #lucanis romance #lucanis fanfiction #lucanis imagine #lucanis x reader #dragon age the veilguard #da: the veilguard #dragon age fanfiction #lucanis x you #fanfic #angst #fluff #lucanis dellamorte x rook #my story

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4ranghaes · 17 hours ago

Note

Pookie, I would love to hear your take on where do you think bonedo would love to kiss you most. Also I'm going feral for your new song fic line. YOURE DOING SO WELL I GUZZLE THEM UP‼️

Yours truly, 🎬

ot6 bnd x reader [separate classifications for each]

a/n - hey pookie my luv🎬💋 thank you so much!!!!!!! i hope you enjoy✨

sungho🎀 - top of the head! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“y/n.”

you groaned, stretching your body out, star-fished on the bed.

“y/n,” sungho repeated, brushing your bed-hair out of your face, a slight chuckle on his face at your screwed up expression.

“hmm, what?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

“i need to go to practise,” he whispered, taking your hands and pulling you so you were sat up in his bed, “i’ll be back just after lunch time cause some of the others have schedules this afternoon.”

“okay,” you spoke, unable to form much more of a sentence than that as you still tried to blink yourself awake in the dark room.

“make sure you’re up before then, okay? i’ll take you out to lunch,” sungho said, laughing at you slightly as you planted your feet on the floor, standing up in front of your boyfriend. “okay?”

you nodded, rubbing your eyes before blinking fully to take in his beautiful face. a smile graced your features, “okay.”

“good,” he said, groaning as he wrapped his arms around you, finding comfort in your body, “have a good day, okay?”

“you too,” you murmured into his warm chest, “don’t work too hard.”

sungho giggled, pressing a delicate kiss right on the top of your head, nuzzling his nose in the scent of you for a few moment after, “i won’t.”

you sighed, relaxing into his arms before sungho made a final whine, rubbing your back and pressing another kiss to the very top of your head before pulling away.

“okay, the boys are waiting for me,” he said, leaning down to match your eye level as he smiled, placing two fingers under your chin, “see you later, yeah?”

you nodded, quickly getting back under the duvet as sungho walked towards the door, “lunch time.”

“lunch time!”

riwoo🦦🍡 - ear! [fluff, gender neutral!reader, use of real name]

“it’s busier than usual in here today,” you commented, looking around the small café that you and riwoo often chose to frequent. the coffee was good, and without the need to complicate the order by choosing the bean type; and the pastries were delicious, and small enough that you felt fine ordering a few to sample each time.

riwoo nodded, his lips naturally pouted as he looked around, “i suppose it’s cold these days, a lot of people come in just to warm up.”

you nodded, jokingly jeering at all the new faces, “they don’t know this place like we do.”

sanghyeok giggled, hiding his face in the back of your head, his hand lightly playing with the back of your neck. the two of you were sat next to each other on a bench facing the rest of the café, the window behind you was cold; but still protecting you from the minus temperatures outside.

“you’re right,” he conceded, with a knowing nod, “they really don’t.”

you giggled, turning to face you shy boyfriend. he smiled at you contently, “what?”

“what?!” he laughed, his face reddening.

“you’re looking at me weirdly,” you chuckled, turning back around to face the rest of the café, riwoo not taking his eyes off of you.

he leaned forward, murmuring in your ear quietly, “i love you.”

you smiled, he often did this, especially when you were in public. sanghyeok didn’t thrive off of public affection, but he always had a desire to let you know how much he loved you. you took his hand under the table, squeezing in reply.

his hot breath was hitting the shell of your ear, you could hear the mouth sounds as he smiled at your reply; before he finally kissed the shell of your ear gently - the final seal of his whispered words.

“i love you too,” you whispered as you turned to face him.

riwoo whined, turning your body back round, “stop! someone will hear you!”

jaehyun🪻🐕 - face! [fluff, fem terms used (girl, she/her pronouns), reader wears make-up]

“oh hey y/n,” taesan smiled, walking into the kitchen, pulling his headphones off as he saw you.

“hey sannie,” you greeted, watching as jaehyun waved energetically at his friend.

taesan chuckled, nodding and waving back, “hi jaehyun.”

myungjae laughed, “me and y/n are going on a picnic!”

sungho rolled his eyes from where he sat playing fifa on the floor, leehan laughing next to him, “stop telling us!”

“really?” taesan hummed, sounding uninterested.

any uninterest in his voice was not noticed by jaehyun, you’re sure, as hummed in reply to taesan, not once taking his eyes off you. finally deciding he was happy with the packing of the lunchbox, he came over to the table, placing everything into the cooler bag he’d prepared.

“are you ready to go?” he asked, glancing up at your face once again, breaking into a smile as soon as his eyes laid upon you.

you nodded, opening your mouth to reply, though before you could make any sound, myungjae’s hands were cupping your cheeks, his lips attacking any part of your face he could reach; your nose, your cheeks, your lips, your forehead.

“myungjae!” you cried, laughter escaping you as you gripped onto his arms, trying to pry him off you, “watch my make-up!”

jaehyun giggled, finally stopping his attack to rest his forehead against yours, slightly breathless. he leaned back again, hands still cupping your face as he pouted his lips, “you look so pretty, today! my girl.”

“leave her alone,” leehan laughed.

“what? i can’t tell my girl she’s pretty?!” jaehyun exclaimed, jeering at his teasing members with disappointed noises, before turning back to you with a smile, “so gorgeous. ah i got some lipstick on your– hold on—”

he used his thumb gently, swiping the smudged lipstick off your cheek before sighing contently, “okay! let’s go?”

you nodded, taking his hand, “let’s go, finally.”

“hyungs! i’m here,” woonhak announced, kicking off his shoes as he entered the dorm.

“woonhak! we’re going on a picnic!”

you laughed, placing a hand on myungjae’s face as you kissed his cheek, “they know, baby, they know.”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ - hands/knuckles! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“are you hungry, by the way?” taesan asked, taking his eyes off your phone as you were scrolling through tiktok together to look up at your face, “shall i get some snacks, or drinks?”

“hmm, i’m a bit hungry,” you murmured, slowly digging your face into his neck out of shyness.

“mm, okay! don’t worry,” he spoke cooly, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles before jumping up and walking to the kitchen and opening up a cupboard which you could see was full of both yours’ and his favourite snacks. you smiled as he looked around, calling out to see what you wanted.

“the crisps please!” you smiled, making grabby hands in his direction, “and some chocolate too.”

“okay!” he said energetically, nodding as he decided on the snacks, sauntering back over to you. he threw them on your lap before grabbing your wrist and pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. this behaviour was such a regular occurrence from taesan, you didn’t even notice, using your other hand to grab the crisps off your lap.

“do you want to watch a movie?” you asked as you got your hand back, picking up the remote.

taesan nodded enthusiastically, remaining wordless as he tucked into his own snacks.

“what shall we watch?” you hummed, “love, rosie?!”

taesan gasped, nodding, “definitely.”

you looked at him, both of you nodding excitedly before you laughed, collapsing against his body and scrolling through the tv to turn on the film.

your body was fully laid against taesan’s, one of his arms slung over your shoulder comfortably, his legs intertwined with your own. his other hand was holding yours, playing with your fingers as his eyes didn’t leave the screen.

you shifted your body, leaving a kiss on his collar bone as you did so, taesan looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“what?”

“don’t do that,” he laughed, “it’s ticklish.”

“yeah?” you teased, moving your lips closer to his collar bone as he squirmed to get away, never letting go of your hand, “it’s ticklish, is it? yeah?”

he squealed, using his other hand to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together and your lips into a pout, “stop! y/n!”

you laughed, scrunching up your nose as he let go of your face, shaking his head and pointing to the screen. “just watch the film, idiot.”

you giggled, settling back into your cuddling position, eyes falling back on the screen, before, “dongmin-ah. can i have a drink?”

he was already readying to get up when he replied, “of course!”

he pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting go and walking to the kitchen.

leehan🪸🐠 - lips! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“i’m home,” leehan spoke into your seemingly empty apartment.

“in the bedroom!” you called, placing your phone down on the bed beside you and looking to the door expectantly.

leehan smiled, just where he left you, he thought, taking his shoes off and dumping his bag before walking to the bedroom that was now often occupied by both you and him, rather than just you.

“hello darling,” he smiled, shutting the door behind him.

“donghyun-ie,” you beamed, reaching your arms up for him to come into. he did as expected, crawling up the bed until he finally collapsed onto your body, you let out a groan at the weight as you wrapped your arms around him and allowed yourself to enjoy the comfort of him. “ugh, i missed you, my baby.”

leehan smiled, resting his chin on your chest as he looked up at you. you brushed his long hair out his face, holding it back with the fake glasses resting on his nose.

“i missed you too,” he murmured, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of your hands playing with his hair, “what did you do today?”

“hmm, i showered,” you said slowly, thinking over the day of not very much while your boyfriend had completed his comeback practise, “i cleaned. i played the sims.”

leehan chuckled, burying his face in your chest and taking a deep breath, “of course. did you leave the house?”

“yep! i went grocery shopping,” you smiled, running your hands down his strong arms, “gonna make you dinner tonight. and i got wine.”

he giggled, looking up at you again, “sounds amazing, darling.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you fell into silence, leehan’s loving gaze focused on your face as you studying his overworked body. he had bandages over most of his joints for support and bruises up his legs and arms. you traced them gently with your fingers.

“love you,” he whispered, bringing your attention to his face.

you smiled, “love you too, donghyun.”

he sighed, hoisting himself up on his arms so he was hovering over your body before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. when he pulled away, you were smiling up at him. he smiled back.

with a content sigh, he leaned back down, almost chasing after your lips with kiss after kiss. your hand tangled in the back of his hair, now returning to it’s natural colour after the blonde had grown out.

leehan’s hand cupped your cheek, stroking gently. finally, a last kiss was left on your lips, as he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“i’m kind of hungry.”

you chuckled, nodding, “let’s cook then, hmm?”

he nodded, leaning down to press a last kiss to your lips before getting off the bed and helping you off too, “what’s for dinner then, hmm?”

woonhak🧸 - temple! [fluff, gender neutral!reader]

“ah i don’t want to!” he yelled, shaking his shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“woonhak-ah,” you laughed, “let’s just wash up now, and then we don’t have to do anything for the rest of the night! we can use it as leverage!”

woonhak looked at you with a bummed out look before nodding solemnly. “fine. stupid bets. never liked them anyway.”

you burst out laughing, beginning to haul the dirty dishes from the table to the sink, “don’t lie! you’re always the one to suggest them!”

woonhak chuckled, humming with a shrug, “maybe that’s true.”

the two of you fell into silence as you cleaned up the kitchen after the dinner shared with his members, woonhak sighing dramatically at the last stretch as he stood beside you drying dishes with a cloth.

“so close!” you cheered, looking at the last two dishes you had to clean.

woonhak’s lips were in a natural, tired pout as he nodded wordlessly. you laughed, drying your hand off and reaching up to cup his face.

“i’m okay,” he said, shrugging your touch off, “let’s keep going.”

you nodded with a smile, beginning to wash up the penultimate plate, and then the last. woonhak let out a cheer as he took the plate from you, watching you finally dry your hands.

“we did it!” he smiled, leaning forward to place the plate in the cupboard, leaving a chaste kiss on your temple as he did so.

you giggled, turning around and looping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his body as he hugged your waist, “go and get in the shower, babe, you’re tired.”

woonhak hummed, pulling away and rubbing his eyes, “i have to win the bet tomorrow.”

“just stop making bets!” you laughed, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“nah,” woonhak smiled, shaking his head. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, the two of you shuffling out the kitchen, “go and get into bed, i’ll be in in a sec.”

“yep,” you nodded, woonhak leaving a couple short, loving kisses to your temple as he let go of your body, walking into the bathroom. “hurry up! i have to go home soon!”

woonhak whined, “why does it never go my way.”

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misshoneyimhome · 2 days ago

Note

For Dad!Willy X reader can we get one where his family/teammates meet the baby for the first time 💙

Honestly, I can’t even put into words how much I’m loving all the dad!Willy content we’ve been diving into lately! I’m in such a mood for it, and if I’m honest, I’ve got a ton more thoughts and ideas—but I’m keeping it short and sweet to make it an easy read 😉 Absolutely obsessed! Hopefully, you’re enjoying it as much as I am, babes 🤗

Tropes & warnings: no warnings, except once again overload cuteness! Dad!Willy x reader, baby!Eliot, meeting family and friends

Word count: 1K

➼｡ﾟ

First Impressions and Family Ties I dad!willy x reader ✐

The condo buzzed with a palpable mix of excitement and nerves as you cradled Eliot in your arms, your gaze flicking over to William. He stood leaned against the kitchen counter, exuding a level of calm that felt borderline infuriating given the storm brewing in your chest. His easy smile didn’t match the worry swirling in your head—a chaotic blend of pride, anxiety, and a desperate desire to make everything perfect.

“What if he cries the whole time?” you burst out, pacing the living room while Eliot nuzzled against your chest, utterly unbothered by your spiralling thoughts. “What if someone holds him, and he poops everywhere? Or—what if he spits up on your mum?”

William’s chuckle rumbled softly, a sound that somehow made you want to both relax and glare at him. Pushing off the counter, he crossed the room in a few casual strides, radiating an effortless confidence you couldn’t wrap your head around. “Babe,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you close, “he’s a baby. That’s literally his job. And my mum raised five of us—trust me, she’s seen worse.”

You shot him a look, your nerves clinging stubbornly. “You’re seriously not nervous at all?”

“Not even a little,” he replied without missing a beat, his fingers brushing over Eliot’s downy-soft hair. “They’re going to love him. And he’s got you, so what’s there to worry about?”

Before you could muster a response, the faint ding of the elevator reached your ears, followed by the telltale sound of footsteps approaching. Your heart immediately leaped into overdrive.

“They’re here,” you whispered, clutching Eliot just a little tighter.

William’s hand slid to your shoulder, his thumb drawing soothing circles against your skin. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got this.”

The door swung open, and Camilla Nylander was the first to step inside. Her warm smile reached her eyes as she immediately spotted the two of you. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping William in a quick, affectionate hug before turning to you. “And you,” she said, her tone softening as she kissed your cheek. “It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart.”

Her gaze shifted down to Eliot, and her expression melted into one of pure adoration. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she breathed, her hands coming up to her chest as she took in the sight of him. “He’s even more beautiful than I imagined.” She hesitated, her eyes meeting yours. “May I?”

You nodded, your heart easing as she carefully gathered Eliot into her arms. The practised ease with which she held him—gentle yet confident—was enough to make some of your tension dissipate. Watching her coo softly to him, her face glowing with pride, you felt the tiniest spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

Michael was right behind her, his broad smile as easygoing as his gait. He clapped William on the shoulder before leaning down to get a good look at Eliot. “Got that Nylander charm already,” he said with a knowing grin. “Though I’ll say, he’s a lot calmer than you were as a baby.”

William smirked, his arm still firmly around your waist. “I’ve mellowed out.”

“Oh, sure,” came Alex’s voice as he strode in, Danielle and Stephanie in tow. “That’s why you once tried to use my hockey gloves to fish a puck out of the toilet.”

“That was one time!” William groaned, though his sheepish grin betrayed him.

Danielle leaned in close to Eliot, brushing her fingers lightly over his tiny hands. “Wow,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “He’s already got more hair than Willy.”

“Okay, what’s with the hair comments today?” William demanded, running a hand through his blond locks for emphasis.

Alex smirked, leaning against the couch. “We’re just saying, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Michael warned, lifting a hand in mock solemnity. “You two could end up bald like me in ten years. Genetics doesn’t play favourites.”

The room erupted in laughter as the Nylander siblings took turns doting on Eliot. Stephanie cradled him with a quiet confidence, her expression soft as she traced the tiny curve of his fingers. “He’s perfect,” she declared, grinning. “Don’t worry, Eliot. Aunt Steph’s got you. I’ll protect you from Uncle Alex’s terrible jokes.”

The doorbell rang again, cutting through the playful chaos, and William crossed the room to answer it. His teammates filtered in, their familiar banter filling the space.

Rasmus Sandin was the first to approach Eliot, his grin wide and mischievous. “Look at this little guy,” he said, crouching beside Camilla. “Eliot Nylander, already cooler than his dad.”

“Careful, Sandman,” William retorted, his grin mirroring Rasmus’s. “You’re not safe on the ice or off.”

Matthew Knies followed close behind, his towering frame somehow softened by the awe on his face. “He’s amazing,” he murmured, crouching slightly as Eliot let out a soft yawn. “So, when’s his first skating lesson?”

“He’s already better than Willy,” Rasmus quipped, dodging the playful shove William aimed his way.

The condo filled with laughter, warm chatter, and the occasional sound of Eliot’s soft sighs as he was passed from one adoring pair of arms to the next. When John Tavares finally stepped forward to hold him, the room grew momentarily quiet. His steady presence radiated calm as he gazed down at the baby. “Future captain material,” he said with a smile, glancing up at William.

William laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “One step at a time, Johnny. Right now, we’re just trying to keep the pacifier in.”

As the evening wore on, the space felt warmer, filled with the unmistakable hum of love and connection. You caught William watching you from across the room, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken. When he finally made his way back to your side, his hand rested at the small of your back, his touch grounding you as his lips quirked into a soft, knowing smile.

And in that moment, with Eliot nestled safely, surrounded by laughter and love, you realised this wasn’t just a gathering. This was family. This was home.

#my asks #dad!willy x reader #dad!willy #wn88 imagine #William Nylander imagine #Toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines

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astronicht · 3 days ago

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I love the very subtle but important presences of bez and pecco in tavullia radio!! and also everything else about it obviously. would love to know if you had any more thoughts about like what they're doing thinking seeing feeling! the image of pecco running into freshly fucked and sucked marc at the espresso machine he can't use and making him a tiny coffee enchants and delights me. in my mind he is suffering horrors. thank you for such a perfect fic!!

thank you Leah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 So in my head etc Pecco and Marc are already technically or already have been teammates. I was thinking as I wrote it "is this next month? or is this december after the 2025 season?" haha. Either way Pecco is like. In a phase of life where he has decided that he is professionally obligated to have some form of rapport with Marc. And if they've been working together for a bit, they awkwardly kind of already DO, just not. NOT in this setting. Always on neutral Ducati ground. THIS scenario (freshly fucked and sucked marc at vale's ranch, in pecco's friendly ranch kitchen, where he was NOT expecting visitors) is NOT part of this carefully polite professional rapport. Unlike the rest of the guys Pecco can't just grunt and shuffle past (he totally could have; Marc did not want to talk to anyone). He's forcing himself to try to be normal and thus extending everyone's suffering lol. They don't even dislike each other. This somehow makes it all worse.

Pecco made Marc a Turkish coffee instead of just getting out one of the 3-5 mokas kicking around because he has gotten into foodie youtube and Turkish coffee came up, and he carefully bought the correct little cup to boil it in and the correct finely ground coffee and he has like, watched videos on how to get the foam right. Very much your friend who gets really into foodie youtube and is suddenly making what you think of as simple staple dishes with all the right utensils and the correct dipping sauce that no one in ur family ever bothered with. He actually had come in to make a coffee for himself before practice (i think he's considering doing a little mentoring? which never interested him much. Marc appears in moments of Pecco identity or professional crisis, in this universe) so you have to picture Pecco out there somewhere with a little cup of Turkish coffee and haunted eyes, wondering if he can drink it.

Marc actually wanted tea, or to have the balls to wander around the ranch in boxer briefs and a t-shirt smelling violently like sex, but he saw the giant fuck-off luxury espresso machine and was like. the look of it annoyed him so he was definitely going to force it to work or just break it. a little bit his instinct to push at vale a little, to try to figure out where the lines are, or to know for sure that vale isn't going to snap over something normal again.

So that was the mood and then pecco came in and was like oh god. oh god he's going to touch the espresso machine and we'll have to have it repaired again. oh god we won't be able to tell vale that marc did it and we'll have to blame celestino again. Just polite Pecco voice being sooo normal like Hi Marc Would You Like A Coffee :) [intense suffering]. He is overcompensating and being as normal as possible bc marc looks fucked ouuuuut and also is doing the terrifying dead fish eyes and slight grin he does when in extreme physical pain and forced to converse, bc he's dissasociating and also does not care enough to make nice expressions for pecco. (Vale used to fuck himself to sleep despite insomnia -- like he just did -- all the time when Marc was 22 and the memory is a bit much.)

Bez meanwhile is having a total gay... crisis isn't the right word. ring of keys dot mp3. the particular egg-cracking feeling of seeing something you didn't know you desperately wanted until you want it violently and think you're gonna cry for no reason. seeing it is both horrifying (for the same reasons pecco is horrified; marc is fucking motorcycle dad) and makes him want so much it fills his mouth with spit, and that scale of desire is weird and confusing and almost a high. but also he LIKES having a grudge against Marc. It's comforting. It's so awful to be jealous of him, while also realizing he's not jealous that Marc is fucking Vale, because in the end Bez is also being forced to realize that he doesn't exactly want to fuck Vale (well, it's complex, but he doesn't want to fuck Vale like Marc wants to fuck Vale and thus Marc even managed to get a win over Bez by being gay in the way Bez would've liked to have been gay).

Anyway!! Bez got wronged in this fic, I don't want to assign him "italian son with sisters who never learned to make coffee". But i did do that. Also he feels twitchy and guilty about the falsely attributed coffee thing for days. Probably vents to Celestino, who is like "why are you talking about coffee bez i am at the club. did i break the espresso machine again bez?? i can't hear u maybe there's better signal on the roof [call dropped as cele's phone dies and isnt' charged for 3 days]"

#APPARENTLY I HAD THOUGHTS #this fic had more going on in the background then i feel like mine usually do??#which made this extra fun tyyyy #moto gp #my fic #ask replies #fic ask replies #pecco #bez #marc

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milliesfishes · 2 days ago

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hi can i have a little order of billy fluff pls ☹️

YES YES YES YES YES FLUFF FLUFF based on this which I have been thinking about for one hundred hours

billy fluff౨ৎ꣑ৎ

His girl.

The words melted on your tongue, sweeter there than your favorite hard candy and able to be savored for a million times as long. And the way Billy said it seeped into your bloodstream; in that special tone you'd only ever heard used with you. He always said it with a hint of a smile upturning his lips, thumb maybe on your cheek, palm cradling your face, eyes always on you. Blue and bonny, play on words unintended.

"My girl," he'd murmur under the stars, adjusting the jacket of his you swore he'd brought only to wrap around you. Kisses to your forehead would be admonished, then your cheeks, or your nose. Billy kissed for every occasion. To comfort. To apologize. To love. Rarely did you have troubles that couldn't be soothed that way.

It was something you needed after a day like today. The end of a very long week under the brunt of words spoken by others that you'd rather not repeat. And to top it off, the one you'd been yearning for all day was hours late, likely caught up with his men, maybe settling a dispute. Anything was possible. The reason didn't matter so much to you, only the fact that Billy wasn't here to kiss anything better.

Curled up in bed, you pulled your blanket tighter, a poor substitute for Billy's warm body curled around you. Fish was already in position for nighttime, curled above your head and purring away, content on your pillow. You clutched at your stuffed rabbit- one of the only non-necessities you'd taken from your old life when you came with Billy. Slipping your fingers under the pink bow around its neck, you dug your fingers into the soft fur, trying to beckon sleep to you.

The front door opened, and you listened to the familiar sounds of Billy arriving home for the night: kicking his boots off, setting his hat down. He wouldn't take off his gun belt until he reached the bedroom. It was a habit he adapted in life on the run, and for your own safety, you didn't protest.

His footsteps were quiet, but you still heard every move he made as he undressed and climbed in behind you. Adjusting the blanket, Billy dug his nose into your hair, ignoring as Fish swiped at his head, and lifted his arm so it covered you, hand over your rabbit. He let a few moments pass before murmuring, "I'm sorry."

You shifted under his arm, your further hand remaining on your rabbit, the other coming up to clutch his bicep. "I needed you."

"I know." Billy's lips found your crown. "I shoulda been home, sweetheart. I'm sorry." He offered no excuse, no explanation, and you were fine with it. All you wanted was his comfort, and it was something he happily gave in high quantities.

Sliding his other arm under you, Billy gently rolled you over so your chest was pressed against his side. His hand slid up to cover your head, the other still over your rabbit as he laid on his back. Sometimes you thought he found more comfort it than you. A sign you were taken care of, past and present. You slumped against him, finally safe. Finally his again.

“I love you,” he murmured, hand over your head stroking your hair. Gathering it under the pads of his fingers, he dragged it to rest behind your ear, humming when you nuzzled into him. "So, so much. Never want you to forget it, sweetheart."

"I couldn't," you whispered, meaning it with everything in you. Billy bent his head to kiss yours, fingers spread over your forehead. "I love you too much to." His heart beat its soothing rhythm beneath your ear, and you felt yourself begin to slip into sleep, the call finally sounding and beckoning to you. Fish purred away, hardly disturbed by your movement.

Billy's hand over your head was just heavy enough for you to feel protected, and you managed to close your eyes. He pressed one final kiss to your hair before you fell into dreamland, all the while encased in him.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #milliesfishes billy

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puzzled-pegasus · 1 day ago

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@logan-bear-bear

Some Jason and Frank headcanons bc they can and should be silly together

They are gym bros and whenever Jason is at cj they work out together

Jason steals Frank's sweaters/jackets and shirts bc Frank is the only one of his friends bigger than him so the oversized sweaters are a valuable resource. They are comfy and the only thing that can make jason feel like just a lil guy and dont we all need that feeling sometimes 😔

Frank and Nico teach Jason how to play mythomagic and they have games sometiems

Jason should be able to communicate with frank in Eagle Mode like percy did with fish frank that one time

They definitely have a secret handshake that changes every time cus they cant actually remember wtf it was

Both of them are more literal than Percy and Leo so together they kind of have their own sense of humor and sometimes when Percy and Leo make weird jokes they kind of look at each ofher like huh?

Compared to Frank Jason really is the more bubbly one of the two. He's really good at cheering Frank up and making him feel better about himself when he feels upset or nervous or like he's failing at something

Jason also hates when frank and Leo fight and is often the one who has to help mediate the argument

Both Jason and Frank think the other one is way more competent and has their shit together

Frank is capable of giving jason piggyback rides

Idk why but I have a vibe of just jason sometimes beinh really friendly/cheerful towards frank so much that it feels kind of offputting to him. Or at least just like, surprising. Idk. I just feel like jason would be in a good mood when frank is there cus frank just has such a stable/comforting vibe that jasons happy nerdness just kinda spills out

I also have an image of the seven watching a movie togegehr or whatever and jason lays his head on frank. idk that wohld be cute.

They woukd use all kind of emojis when texting cus sometiems words really just aren't enough

These mfs would love parallel activities. When they jusy sit in a room and put on soem background noise and work on little projects or whatever and they dont talk. They have a nature documentary on the tv and Frank is doinb a puzzle and Jason is putting entries and stickers into his binder journal and they are not saying a word to each other its the vibe fr

Jason likes to sing and frank likes his singing voice so sometimes when its quiet or theyre bored or whatever franks lke u should sing somthing and jaosns like okey :D

#heroes of olympus #hoo #jason grace #frank zhang #frank and jason #hoo headcanon #heroes of olympus headcanons

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thehistoriangirl · 2 days ago

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The Tides Have Veiled [Third Interlude]

First of all, I wanted to apologize for the delay. I got a problem with this story as I found out someone fed it to an AI. I was about to stop posting it and eliminate it altogether, but it'll be unfair for every one of you who had been so sweet and kind with me and so loving with this story.

We're officially in the middle, and I will walk all this way with you guys ❤️❤️ thank you so much for the support, and I'll read you soon!

Viktor x Fem!Reader /Gothic AU; Haunted Sea/----1.8K---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: One fateful night, you two say the thing that wasn't supposed to be.

Tags: Fluff | I'm emotional rn so it may be a bit sad | Some kissing | They say!!! the thing!!! | Needless to say please PLEASE do not feed it to an AI 😭😭😭

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @ultimateslasherfan @beeblybub (it's been so long I'm sorry if I forgot to tag someone!! 😭😭 remind me and I'll do it for the next ones :3 pinky promiseee)

Third Interlude: The Stars in Your Eyes

New moon. The perfect witness to keep secrets.

And it isn’t that Viktor wishes to maintain his feelings hidden, resurfacing like the high tide during full moon—rising every night during the solitude of the watch, with the familiar glow of your window visible from the tower until sleep took you for the day, the light of the candle extinguished.

But it a necessary illness he doesn’t mind to be afflicted with.

The place you ought to call house it’s so different to this lonely tower; avant-garde wallpapers are here but starting to chip off. There the candles burn with riches fragrances, while here the beacon illuminates, unforgiving, leaving oil prints all over his fingertips.

At least he can pretend to watch over your dreams from here, peering at the starry night. A childish desire to keep you away from nightmares soaked in crimson tides and women jumping out the cliff.

It’s the same tale of every night—to cocoon in the couch by the control panel, door close to avoid any flicking light filtering inside the room. A book resting on his lap, forgotten pens scattered all over the floor by his shoes. Today isn’t worthy of writing in the logbook. At least not yet.

The door creaks open, metal scratch against wood.

“Viktor,” your voice makes him jump. Between a dream and a ghostly whispering like the sea uses to do with each crashing wave.

He stands up from the couch, leaving the book he was reading closed without any mark. It doesn’t matter. Viktor doubts he knew what the chapter was about even before you arrived.

His hands are eager. They settle in the roundness of your cheeks, finding like a miracle that your skin it’s so soft and warm. “You’re really here.”

It wouldn’t be the first time the water fools him, allowing him to imagine both of you, floating weightless inside an infinite of blue. Hands intertwined.

You oughtn’t to fear the place you come from.

“I almost got caught,” you laugh, leaning against the safety of his touch. Against the cold surrounding you in her way toward the lighthouse, Viktor is your refuge. “They hired new fishermen. Mister Gavin was talking with them in his office up until midnight.”

That catches Viktor’s attention, obliged to recoil his touch. “New fishermen?” Upon his hiring as lighthouse keeper, Viktor had seen the dark silhouettes of the fishing boats sailing on open water during the night, where fish could be easily collected. Every journey, fewer boats get out. And even less returned.

“He has always been a greedy man,” you sigh, sinking into the couch. He hopes your shampoo gets imprinted in his pillow for at least a couple of days. Until he gets to see you again. “He doesn’t wish to understand Piltover will never be the same as it was thanks to her.”

Viktor settles next to you. “I suppose sometimes dwelling in the past it’s the only thing one can do to avoid going mad.”

He observes you, loving that intense gaze that could only be described as a frozen storm, cloudy and deep and dark from all the tears he’s sure you don’t dare to shed.

“I hope he goes mad,” your voice is barely audible. A shivery whisper that crawls inside his chest. “I hope I get to do it.”

That need starts to nudge again the gate of his reason. You’re not like this, he wants to tell you. The poison dripping down every syllable, breaking its enchanting cadence. But it would be senseless to utter so—because your family has sworn upon themselves to forge you into whatever monstrosity the townsfolk’s rumors proclaim.

“There lies the reason behind your current visits?” Part of him lets slip, a terrible weight settled onto his heart.

Your chuckle echoes, a whisper that would remain even after you leave. “No, Viktor. It isn’t.” You drink from his golden eyes, twin stars guiding your way. You aren’t sure what this night has of special. It’s just a moonless night, full of stars in the sky. The sea laps all the same. “I would never drag you into my mess.” Not as Gavin and his new wife had dragged Astraia, hoping for you to grow all alone, feeding the desperation to seek freedom.

“I wouldn’t have minded if you do,” he says, and your eyes start to blurry.

His fingers are rough and cold, yet he touches you with the same delicate nature one would hold a butterfly. Afraid that if he takes too much, you’d be all but a shattered dream.

“I’m happy here,” you mutter, the secret you’re so afraid to say out loud if bad luck ever tries to snatch it. “I can’t go anywhere, but here… here I don’t want to run away.” And it terrifies you. All your life, wishing to be someone else, to forsake the family name impose upon your existence. Yet not even the waves could take what runs through your veins. “I loathe this place with every fiber of my being, but now you’re here and… everything has changed.”

It's like it was before. The blue of the sea is shinier, and the call doesn’t reverberate in your bones with the ache of impossibility. It calls you home. Morphed into one endless way up into the end of every lament.

For the first time in so long, you don’t want to leave.

His smile breaks your heart, and you let yourself cry, letting him hold you while every tear erases the grey colors once painted over the vibrant memories of your mother’s tight embrace, her haunting voice calling you to sleep. The way the sand got under your toes after one swimming afternoon. All the ghostly laughter you blessed upon the cliff.

Before everything turned crimson and empty.

“I will keep this place safe,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair. “For you.”

Your hands grab his shoulders, and for a moment it seems like you wish to disappear in him, to forever echo the rhythm of his heartbeat as another lullaby.

You can’t see him, so he dares to deposit a kiss on your forehead, muttering things you cannot understand.

“Come with me,” he says after an eternity that’s cut too short.

*~*~*~*

The water’s cold, but it lights every nerve on fire once you submerge.

Viktor slips behind you, your hands never leaving his once your tears are erased by the sea water hitting in gentle waves. A moonless night with inky water, yet you don’t have to fear the abyss. You have never.

“Does your leg hurt?” you say, waddling toward him. You could guide him toward the cliffiside where the coral grows meters under the surface, so he could feel the fish between his legs and grab at the rock for safety.

“N-no,” Viktor shivers. “The cold helps to numb sometimes.”

It’s barely visible outside of the lighthouse’s rotating beacon, which give you enough courage to inch shamelessly closer, until your dress it’s tangled in his legs. Because it’s your time to hold him, soak him in your warmth.

Astraia’s words haunt you, but what reputation do you still hold? You don’t care to stain the last name they force you to keep.

“Numb what?” You can barely feel his hands ghosting over your back. Afraid.

He averts your gaze. But you can’t let him; with your warm hands cupping his cheeks. Despite the coldness, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks every time the lighthouse painted the waves gold.

“Are you afraid of me?” you whisper, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Never.” His voice is gruff, the grasp so tight his knuckles are bone-white. “But… there are some things meant to remain hidden.”

“Why?” You know why, but you have stopped caring about the reason long ago. “I don’t want to keep them locked any longer.” It was as if sometimes they drowned you, blocking every breath from your throat at the mere thought of saying those words your tongue longed to express.

Your name has never been more precious that in the way Viktor whispers it. A prayer he covets for only him to call.

And you’ll let him. Of course you’ll let him.

“I don’t want to, either,” he says, golden stars fluttering close one his lips beckon yours, soft and pliant and so sweet. Barely a sheepish brush, before you push yourself closer, his hands grabbing handfuls of floating fabric on your lower back.

You get lost. Barely keeping afloat in the great tides of emotions sieging you. Yet Viktor doesn’t care if your lips taste like salt, if you’re shivering and breaking in sobs. Despite all the love, he knows it hurts—being loved hurts by the mere thought of all this being stolen with the same easiness it could be taken away.

But he won’t let it.

“You make me feel free,” you utter, breathless. And this otherworldly vision will forever haunt him; your bright eyes, swollen lips. The smile that’s just for him.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice dripping with dread, the ever-present possibility of rejection.

Your laughter fills him with pain, but Viktor quickly realizes, by how you embrace him, that it’s not meant to be mocking. It’s euphoric, triumphant in the way you call for him. “Viktor, kiss me.”

And he does, up until the cold seeps into his bones, threatening into leaving him up to the design of the sea. Yet you hold him close, guide him back to the shore where you both lay in the sand like teenagers laughing at the constellations above because they would never have the brightest stars in all the skies, light only meant to gaze upon you.

And you love those stars, making them close so you can kiss them along with every precious feature of his face that you’re decided to carve in your memory.

Viktor embraces you despite the warmth of the sand seeping through your clothes, the humid summer air blowing hair into his face. You want to tell him the truth, to let your throat sore from a scream so everything and everyone could hear it.

But you’re afraid. You know this place always takes those who you love, and you dread for Viktor to be next. So you don’t, and instead, cuddle up right into his side, your cheek pressed against his chest as his breath slowly grows steady.

He’s asleep, but his hands are still taking yours, his chin over your head.

“I love you, too, Viktor,” you mutter, so low either he or the sea can hear you. Yet the lighthouse sees, casting shadows along your refuge on the coastline like a blanket.

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor x you #arcane x female reader

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hypnoneghoul · 2 days ago

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Symbol on the Surface Chapter 13

WC: 1,5k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Mild Dysphoria, Fluff

“Do you know what ‘seahorse dad’ means?”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 13 under the cut or on AO3.

It has always been rare for Swiss to feel dysphoric, and even though he’s been experiencing it more since he started showing, it still doesn’t happen that much.

It’s only sometimes that he’ll catch a glimpse of his reflection somewhere and fall down an ugly spiral that he has to be fished out of by his mate.

By the time Christmas comes around, Swiss is five months pregnant and he is huge.

Being ghouls, they don’t really celebrate Christmas, but everyone loves the atmosphere and the fun of it, so every year they simply…skip the christian parts. Most of the Abbey does; it’s a big thing and the name of the festivities is up to everyone’s personal preference—Christmas, Yule, Winter Solstice, or nothing at all.

One of Swiss and Mountain’s favorite parts about that time are sweaters. They love getting matching Christmas sweaters that half the world’s population would cringe at; they have so many stuffed in the back of their closet—waiting for their time to shine year after year.

Unfortunately, this year they have not accounted for Swiss’ current size. It’s been so busy, neither of them thought about the sweaters until they saw someone else wearing them and remembered about their little custom.

The multi ghoul tries. He looks for the most stretchy sweater there is and gets Mountain’s, instead of his own. They are a little oversized, anyway, it should work.

More or less…

“It’s okay if it doesn’t fit, darling, we don’t have to wear them this year,” Mountain assures him, but he knows Swiss won’t budge—and it’s not only about the damn sweater. It’s about tradition, but also about how his body is changing. He doesn’t particularly like it.

Swiss grunts as he wiggles into the sweater—refusing his mate’s offer of help—and eventually he does get it stretched over his baby bump, but the knitwear is holding on for dear life.

Mountain sighs, looking down at a strangely distorted reindeer. He looks up at the multi ghoul’s face when he hears him sniffle, though, and his heart breaks a little.

“Oh, my darling…” he coos, coming up to Swiss to hug him. “It’s okay, we can find you a different one that doesn’t squeeze you so much. Maybe Aether or Omega have something.”

“It’s not–not about the sweater,” the multi ghoul cries, whining into Mountain’s neck.

“What is it then, my heart?” he asks gently as he rubs Swiss’ back.

“I look like a sack of potatoes! How can you even look at me, I’m all swollen, and then there’s these–these fucking stretchmarks, and–and…” he sobs, but the last part seems to get stuck in his throat.

Mountain wants to know what he’s working with before he addresses every single concern of his mate. He also knows that it’s going to make everything worse if Swiss keeps some part of it in, so he prods gently, “What’s the ‘and’ about?”

The multi ghoul sighs before shoving his face further into the other’s neck to mumble out something incomprehensible.

“My heart, you know I didn’t catch that.” Swiss groans, but moves his face.

“I look like a woman…” he mutters; still quietly, but understandably now.

“My darling,” Mountain starts, pulling back to look into his mate’s eyes when he speaks, “my beloved mate, light of my life, I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He waits for Swiss to nod before carrying on, “You’ve grown because you are carrying our children inside you. Our kits, our babies; you’re going to give them life, bring them into this world! I can only imagine how it feels, and I wish I could take all the hardships of it away from you, but it truly is a wonderful thing and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You do not look like a sack of potatoes, or a woman. You look absolutely beautiful, my handsome man, and I know you can see in my eyes that I mean every single word. Can you not?”

“I can…” the multi ghoul replies quietly—as if ashamed that he’s even dared to doubt his mate. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my heart,” Mountain smiles and brings Swiss close again for a tight—albeit careful—hug. It lasts a good couple minutes before the earth ghoul notices that his mate starts to shift his feet in discomfort; even though he doesn’t say anything. The earth ghoul pulls away.

“Do you know what ‘seahorse dad’ means?” he asks, suddenly having remembered something that Rain had mentioned to him a couple weeks ago.

“I don’t think so…” Swiss admits.

“When seahorses make babies, it’s the males that carry them,” Mountain explains. “Apparently trans men that get pregnant are called seahorse dads because of that.”

Swiss stares at him with his mouth slightly agape for a moment. It turns into a smile before he bursts into tears again. The hormones have really turned him into a mess.

“That’s so cuteee,” he all but wails, his crying now cuteness-induced, instead of…the other kind of crying. Mountain considers it a win.

“It is,” he chuckles, wiping Swiss’ tears away, “let’s lay down and I’ll show you some pictures, hm?”

“Okay,” he sniffles and follows his mate to the bed. He cringes at the tight sweater he’s still trapped in, though. “Ough, help me out of this damn contraption.”

Mountain laughs, but helps free him, indeed.

“I’ll text the group chat and get you a sweater for this year, my heart,” he promises, and Swiss doesn’t doubt it. He knows that if Mountain didn’t manage to find one to borrow, he’d make one from scratch overnight—just so his mate wouldn’t be upset. That’s how much he loves him.

The earth ghoul lays down first and Swiss joins him right away. He snuggles himself into Mountain’s side, resting his stomach against his mate’s hip and his face in the crook of his neck. Swiss inhales deeply, trilling at that familiar scent he loves so much; the smell of the first days of summer.

As promised, Mountain gets out his phone and sends out the ‘sweater wanted’ text first, then moving onto TikTok to find some seahorse dads for Swiss—both the actual fish and pregnant trans men. The former makes the multi ghoul shed some more cuteness-tears, and the latter succeeds in boosting his confidence and chasing the dysphoria away.

They stay in bed for a little while—as they’ve been doing most of their time for the last couple weeks. Swiss needs all the rest he can get and Mountain doesn’t want to step away from him for even a second. He doesn’t have anything better to do, anyways; all his outside work is paused for the winter after he and the other earth ghouls have secured everything against the cold.

So Swiss and Mountain keep snuggling—the earth ghoul caressing the other’s stomach as he purrs—until a phone buzzes somewhere. It got lost in the sheets, but once it’s recovered, the multi ghoul chirps happily at the message.

It’s from Omega, he sent Mountain a couple photos of the sweaters he has and could not only borrow, but give away. Apparently, every time they were on tour in the winter, Terzo had gotten the older quintessence ghoul a silly Christmas sweater, so he’s got plenty.

“I can go get them right now,” Mountain offers, “got any favorites, darling?”

“Hm…” Swiss stares at the pictures, zooming in and out and thoroughly analyzing every sweater offered. The earth ghoul gives him time and after a moment he makes his decision. “This one!”

Mountain smiles, kisses Swiss on the forehead and jumps out of bed to go grab it. Omega’s only downstairs, so it’s only a moment. The multi ghoul uses that time to go to the bathroom—it’s not a quick business nowadays.

When his mate returns with the sweater, Swiss is ecstatic. He’s buzzing with excitement and if he weren’t pregnant, he’d be jumping up and down. Mountain laughs as he helps him wiggle into the sweater and while it’s clear that it wasn’t made with pregnant people in mind, it fits nearly perfectly.

The earth ghoul could just about cry, seeing his mate so happy over something so…basic and small. He brings him in for a hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Swiss purrs, nuzzling the side of his face against his mate’s.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Mountain whispers before kissing him—deeply, but softly. When they pull away for breath, the earth ghoul winks and gets down on his knees before Swiss.

At first he thinks he’s about to get a naughty early gift, but instead of pulling down his pants, Mountain pulls up the bottom of his—not that long ago Omega’s—sweater. Swiss looks down at him with his brows furrowed in confusion as his mate kisses his bump.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, little ones,” Mountain mumbles and Swiss tears up once again.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus @ghoultrifle (if anyone from here wants to be removed lmk, and also if anyone else wants to be added)

#cw pregnancy #hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #symbol on the surface

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eliaah · 21 hours ago

Text

you're drunk !

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, & william vangeance

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i'm back with the scenarios ! sorry if it's been awhile, i'm just really busy with school and all

🍂 YAMI SUKEHIRO

The cool night air wrapped around you as you stumbled along the path, still feeling the warmth of the drinks you had with Yami back at the tavern. The night had been filled with loud laughter and challenges from overly confident patrons that Yami either shrugged off or jokingly threatened to handle with his sword.

Yami walked beside you, hands shoved casually into his pockets, his steps as steady as ever despite the amount of beer he’d downed. He glanced at you, clearly entertained by your struggle to walk in a straight line. “You’re wobbling like a newborn deer.” he teased, his smirk growing wider.

You shot him a glare, though you knew it lacked any real bite. “I’m not wobbling.” you insisted stubbornly, your voice slurring just a little. “I could walk a straight line if I wanted to.”

Yami raised an eyebrow, his grin daring you. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this far too much.

With an overly determined look, you tried to step forward, concentrating so hard that your tongue peeked out between your lips. But despite your best effort, your feet betrayed you, and you tripped. Yami quickly caught you, pulling you upright and steadying you against his chest.

“Yeah, real convincing.” he chuckled, keeping his strong arm around your waist. “Remind me to never let you talk yourself into a drinking contest again. You’d end up starting a bar brawl and lose.”

You scowled up at him, though you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at your own clumsiness. “I don’t need your help, Captain.” you grumbled, but you made no effort to move out of his hold. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

His smirk grew more teasing. “Sure, Miss Independent.” he said, leaning in closer. “You’re strong as hell, but right now, you’re about as coordinated as a fish out of water. Admit it.”

“Never.” you shot back. But your pride softened, and you couldn’t hold back a smile. You let yourself rest in his embrace, at least for now.

Yami seemed pleased, but he wasn’t done teasing you yet. His eyes glinted with amusement as he added, “You know, you’re lucky I’m here to catch you when you do something reckless. Otherwise, I’d be scraping you off the pavement.”

You gasped, playfully swatting at his chest. “You’re the worst!” you exclaimed, though a grin spread across your face. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Yami shrugged, his smirk never fading. “Probably because I’m devastatingly handsome.” he said, then leaned in close, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. “And because you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat. “Arrogant as ever.” you shot back, though the affection in your voice was undeniable. “One day, that ego of yours is going to be your downfall.”

“Maybe,” he replied, squeezing you a little tighter as the two of you continued down the road. “But at least I’ll have you to catch me when I fall, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you big idiot. Just don’t make me regret it.”

Yami let out a soft chuckle, and for a moment, the silliness fell away, replaced by a genuine warmth that lingered between you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” he said, his voice unusually gentle before he quickly added, “Now hurry up. I don’t feel like carrying your drunk ass home if you pass out on me.”

You burst out laughing, nudging him playfully as the two of you continued down the path. The night felt perfect, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy leaning into his warmth, knowing that your silly, playful love would always make you feel this light.

🍂 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The mission had been a resounding success, but the celebration that followed had clearly taken its toll on you. Fuegoleon had joined the squad in raising a glass—or several—to the victory, but unlike you, he’d known when to stop. You, on the other hand, had indulged a little too freely in the wine.

Now, you found yourself lying on your bed, your limbs feeling heavy, and your head buzzing in that telltale way that meant you’d had far too much to drink. Fuegoleon sat on the edge of the bed, carefully removing your boots as you mumbled incoherent protests.

“You don’t have to do that.” you slurred weakly, though your attempt at resistance was half-hearted at best.

“And yet here I am.” Fuegoleon replied calmly, his voice laced with patience as he set your boots aside. “It seems tonight I have the honor of looking after you, my love.”

You blinked up at him, a hazy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re too good to me.” you murmured, the warmth of the wine in your system amplifying your emotions. “I don’t deserve you.”

Fuegoleon chuckled softly, reaching for a damp cloth. “If that’s true, then what does that say about me? I’m the one who chooses to stay by your side.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment before you peeked at him again. “Probably that you’re too noble for your own good.”

“Or perhaps,” he countered, his voice quieter now, “I simply know a treasure when I see one.”

The words made your cheeks heat, and you let out a shy laugh. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” you said teasingly, though your voice cracked ever so slightly.

Fuegoleon smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before running the damp cloth over your hands. “No tears tonight, sweetheart. Only rest.”

You watched him in silence for a moment, taking in the way his purple eyes glowed softly in the lamplight, his every movement deliberate and tender. “You’re really handsome, you know that?” you murmured, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Fuegoleon paused, glancing down at you with a look of amused surprise. “Am I now?”

You nodded with conviction, your voice growing dreamier. “Mm-hmm. Handsome and kind and strong and... warm. You’re everything, Fuegoleon.”

A faint blush colored his cheeks, but his smile didn’t waver as he set the cloth aside. “You’ve had too much to drink, my love.” he said softly, leaning in closer. “But I’ll take your words to heart.”

“I mean it.” you insisted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re amazing. And I love you.”

He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you too.” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “Now rest. You’ve earned it.”

You hummed in contentment, your eyes fluttering closed as sleep began to claim you.

Fuegoleon stayed by your side, his hand resting lightly over yours as he watched you drift into peaceful slumber. Even as the night stretched on, he remained there, his heart full and his resolve unshaken. For all your stubbornness and mischief, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

🍂 NOZEL SILVA

The night had gone exactly as Nozel predicted—messy. You’d gone out to celebrate your friend’s birthday, promising him you wouldn’t overdo it. Yet here you were, kneeling on the bathroom floor, your stomach emptying every last drop of the party’s "fun."

Nozel stood behind you, his hand carefully holding your hair back, the other steadying you with a light touch on your shoulder. His usual pristine demeanor was intact, save for the slight furrow in his brow and his sleeves rolled up—a rare sight that might’ve made you laugh if you weren’t currently miserable.

“I should’ve known.” he muttered, his voice calm but tinged with irritation. “Letting you go to a party unsupervised was clearly a mistake.”

You groaned, wiping your mouth weakly. “It was... one night. I don’t always do this.”

“Precisely why you don’t handle it well.” he replied, offering you a glass of water. “Drink. Slowly.”

You took the glass, sipping carefully before giving him a half-hearted grin. “Look at you, Sir High and Mighty, tending to a lowly drunk like me. Isn’t this beneath you, Captain Silva?”

He raised an eyebrow, his grip on your hair steady. “It’s certainly testing my patience.”

You laughed weakly, leaning against the wall. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this just a little. You love me too much to leave me here.”

He let out a sharp sigh, though his hand on your back moved in slow, soothing circles. “Loving you doesn’t mean I enjoy watching you throw up.”

You cooed, turning to look up at him with a tired smile. “You said you love me. That’s rare. Must be the alcohol working its magic.”

“Don’t push your luck.” he replied, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Now stop talking nonsense and rest.”

“But you’re so handsome when you’re annoyed.” you teased, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch as he helped you shift into a more comfortable position. “It’s like... brooding prince energy.”

“Foolish woman.” he muttered, shaking his head, though his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You'll live.” you murmured, your voice softening as sleep started to creep in. “You’d miss me too much if I wasn’t around to drive you crazy.”

Nozel paused, his amber eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Perhaps.” he admitted, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “Now sleep, before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

You gave a small laugh, your head lolling to the side as exhaustion overtook you. “No regrets... just you.”

As your breathing evened out, Nozel sighed, his hand lingering on your back for a moment longer before he stood. He quietly adjusted the blanket draped over you, his usual sharpness replaced by a rare tenderness.

“Rest well, my love.” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll be here.”

🍂 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

It had been one of those days where everything felt overwhelmingly boring. After a mission, everyone had dispersed to rest, and you found yourself wandering the halls, feeling antsy. The idea of a drink crossed your mind—just to pass the time and try something new. You'd never really been interested in alcohol, but today, curiosity got the better of you.

You found an unopened bottle of something fruity-looking in the pantry, poured yourself a small glass, and took a sip. It wasn’t bad. A little sweet, a little tangy. You went back for another, and before long, you’d emptied half the bottle. You could feel it starting to settle in—everything was a bit fuzzy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

After a while, the alcohol made you feel a little too good, a little too brave. You thought about how lovely it would be to visit William. You had to tell him something important, after all.

You made your way to his office, swaying slightly as you walked, still feeling the warmth spread through you. When you entered, William looked up from his desk, and for a moment, his expression was a mix of surprise and concern.

"Y/N?" he asked, standing up immediately, his brow furrowed in worry. "What’s wrong?"

You smiled up at him, feeling unusually lighthearted. Without thinking, you dropped to one knee in front of him. “William Vangeance.” you said dramatically, though your voice was slightly slurred. “Will you marry me?”

William froze, his eyes widening, clearly taken aback. "Y/N, what are you—" His voice softened as he rushed over, kneeling in front of you. “You’re drunk.”

You giggled, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “I’m not drunk, I just… really love you.” you said, trying to focus on him. “You’re kind and smart and… and perfect. How could I not want to marry you?”

William’s expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached out and gently cupped your face, his touch tender. “My love,” he said softly, “You’re a little tipsy right now, aren’t you?”

You nodded, still smiling up at him, completely at ease. “Maybe. But it’s still true.” you said, your voice warm with affection. “You’re everything to me, William. I’m lucky to know you.”

He chuckled lightly, the worry in his eyes replaced by something softer. “You’re adorable when you’re drunk.” he murmured, his voice fond as he helped you sit back down on the floor. “But I think we should get you comfortable. You’re not thinking straight.”

You pouted, but it was more playful than anything. “I am thinking straight.” you said, leaning into his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, helping you to the couch. “I’m just being honest.”

William's arms wrapped around you more securely as he guided you onto the couch. He sat beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His voice was calm, but affectionate. “You’ve always been honest with me, even when you're sober. But I think tonight, we’ll keep the marriage talk for another day.”

You relaxed into his embrace, still feeling giddy and safe in his arms. “But one day, though.” you murmured, your eyes fluttering a little. “Promise me we’ll talk about it when I’m not… all wobbly.”

William smiled softly, his heart full of affection for you. “I promise.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But for now, just rest. You’ve had a long day, my love.”

You hummed, leaning into his warmth, the world around you beginning to fade into the comfort of his arms. “You’re so sweet, William. I’m glad you’re here.”

He held you close, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m always here for you, Y/N. Always.”

You sighed contentedly, letting the last of your energy slip away as you drifted off in his embrace.

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover x reader #scenarios #yami sukehiro #fuegoleon vermillion #nozel silva #william vangeance #yami sukehiro x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #nozel silva x reader #william vangeance x reader #fluff #eliah.works

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