#or ruin enemies' weak points

[darklcy]

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐭.

────˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚─────

‣ vi x reader | arcane masterlist | 1.9k words | enemies to lovers, angst, not super fluffy but happy end, mentions of low self esteem

‣ you assumed she hated you, but maybe it goes deeper than that when a fight has you taking shelter in her childhood home

‣ welcome back vi lovers! the arcane s2 brainrot is here and im back from my hiatus! (i hope you enjoy i may be rough i haven't written in a while)

Vi was too reckless for her own good.

Self-sabotaging can only carry you through so much, her invisible trophy wall of each violent encounter growing by the day. It was frustrating to see her do this, and yet every time a splotch of bruises formed, or a new line of blood dirtied her cheek, the more her perseverance began to crack. 

The pressure was abundant on her shoulders, you could practically feel it yourself. Whether she pulled you in, or you jumped yourself, the burden was also yours to carry. 

Sometimes you wondered if she disliked you. A simple question of well-being, how are you, earned a chilling glare and passive aggressive comments she meticulously crafted to falter your ego. Maybe she thought you were too weak to understand her pain, or perhaps it was the way your concern pushed through whatever bite she spat at you. 

Or maybe she just didn’t like you.

A bit ironic, seeing her sustainable relationship with the Enforcer from topside, the last person you would’ve thought her to be acquaintances with. And if you observed closer, Vi seemed to carry herself differently around her, this Caitlyn from Piltover. 

Though, there was credit to give. Her marksmanship was unlike anyone you’d ever seen in the lanes. She was light on her feet and agile, shooting her targets with perfect precision. No wonder she bore a badge proudly. 

And you were anything but a fighter. Maybe that’s why Vi looks at you the way she does. She’d marked you as a liability, vulnerable to the dangers of the world. It upset you, the way her nose scrunched up with her glares and cold shoulders. 

Who was she to judge you anyway? Every time you choose violence, you come out broken and bloody, so what’s the point? Whatever. Screw her and her opinions. Who the fuck needs her anyway. 

If only you’d fucked off when she told you to. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this mess. Here. In the ruins of Vi’s childhood home, with a bloody nose and bruised cheek. With Vi. Damn your determination to prove her wrong. Damn those thugs for surrounding her completely, for not giving her a second to get back up. There was no stopping what was to come, that was clear the moment your bags were strewn hastily to the ground and shouts were thrown at her perpetrators. A sock to the face immediately took to the ground. The punk wouldn’t stop pounding hits to your face. Damn you, Vi.

Your pain wasn’t for nothing when Vi dragged herself up and freed you from his grip, knocking his ass to the concrete with a bloodied lip. Your vision was blurry as she took off running with her fingers tight around your wrist. When you stopped to breathe is when you realized your surroundings, confirmed with a stone marked with the names Power and Violet. 

The neon sign that previously towered over this ghost town had been toppled over and destroyed; half the foundations of the house torn to dust. The sight made you frown. The only remaining wall was to your left, sheltering a twin sized bed mattress with a tattered sheet on top. A groan to your side beckoned you to look over, watching as she shuffled to the mattress. In the distance, you could make out the faint echoes of yelling, the vast cliffs muffling the words together into a vague holler. 

“It’s probably best to sleep here. They’re not gonna leave anytime soon.”

Vi grumbled, not missing the hint of annoyance coming from her. She was laying on her side now, back to you and arms circling her stomach. You didn’t respond, instead trudging over to the bed and stiffly laying down beside her, back slightly grazing hers.

Neither of you spoke a word. 

It was hard to tell what she was feeling. She never was one to vocalize her thoughts, especially with you. With Caitlyn, maybe.

“...I didn’t need your help.”

Your shoulders tensed up. 

“I had control of everything. You just messed it all up.”

The fabric of the thin sheets acted as a stress reliever as you gripped tighter and tighter.

“...What the hell was I supposed to do? Seriously,”

“Not interfere? Now we’re stuck here.”

Today was not the day to be dealing with her attitude. You were sore, bloody, and in the worst mood possible to be treated like this. It didn’t help that her words stung, the bitterness stabbing into your open wounds.

“Well, maybe don’t pick fights with a group of guys who are clearly bigger and stronger than you.”

She snapped her body up and looked down on you.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You rolled over to your back, glaring up at her.

“They were clearly stronger than you! If I hadn’t shown up who knows what the fuck they would’ve done?”

“Oh yeah? And what good did you do? Take a few swings to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to be eye level.

“I mean, yeah?! If I hadn’t taken those punches, you would still be on that damn street!”

Vi mockingly put a hand over her heart. “My hero.”

“Fuck off.” You moved to shove her in the shoulder, but her hand snapped around your wrist. Her glare intensified, eyes turning sharp and nose scrunching up. All your anger drowned in a pool of nerves while her fingers tightened, the skin of your hand turning red. She leaned in uncomfortably close.

“You really wanna go there?”

Her eyes bore into yours, not faltering eye contact for even a second. 

You could feel the tension in your neck beginning to ache. You would never win against her, but the thought was intoxicating. After a few quiet seconds, you yanked your wrist back, her fingers marking red indents into your skin. 

She scoffed, nodding her head while moving away from you. “That’s what I thought.”

You wanted to beat her. You wanted to win, just once. 

“What the fuck is your problem anyway.”

Her sharp eyes flickered to yours. It intimidated you every time, like she was the big bad bully in school, teeth grazing her lips as she fought back the retaliation.

You pushed through. “...All I’ve ever done was just try to help. Yet here you are, always pissed at me for no damn reason. What have I done to make you hate me so fucking much?”

Her eyebrows pinched together for a breath of a second. “...Huh?”

You threw your arms up, shuffling forward and standing from the cushion. 

“Every single day, you treat me like I’m some helpless child, like I’m a fucking idiot who can’t do anything. I’m an adult, Vi. Just because I can’t fight doesn’t mean I can’t do anything, for fucks sake.”

She watched you pace throughout the empty house, her eyes heavy as lead. You huff.

“It’s like, every time I try to do anything, you look at me like I’m some stupid child who keeps messing up. I’m tired of it. Either tell me straight up or leave me alone.”

Your spine met stone as you slid down to the floor, her carved name above your head. 

Pulling your knees up, your chin fell to your chest, arms dangling across your kneecaps to finally give your body some rest. Didn’t feel like a victory, but the weight of her burden dissipated just by a little. You’d never snapped back before, never given yourself the strength to stand up to her. Enough was enough. You can’t live like this anymore.

Vi remained quiet, whether she was debating on arguing or not, you didn’t care. The fight of sleep was winning, and your eyelids began to slowly surrender.

“...I wasn’t going to do anything, yknow.”

They snapped back open.

“Earlier, I mean. I wasn’t actually gonna hurt you.”

You don’t move to face her. Vi continues.

“I don’t hate you, you just,” She sighs. “You do things that confuse the fuck out of me, and frankly it pisses me off.”

You scoff. “Like what?” 

“Like jumping into that fight. That was a dumbass move, and you know it.”

“Oh my god. How is that a dumbass move- I helped you out, didn’t I? Besides, I put myself there, why are you the one pissed off? I should be pissed off.”

“Yes. Yes, you should!” She stands up from the mattress to tower over you, her voice beginning to raise.

“You should be pissed off, because you got socked in the face and now, you’re stuck here. Why did you do that? That was so stupid.”

A pinch pulled your brows together. “Obviously I know what happened, I’m literally here. What point are you trying to get at?”

Vi shakes her head and runs a hand through her spiked, greasy hair. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe how dense you are.”

You watch as she saunters over to the same name engraved stone to slide down the rock, her knees knocking with yours. She’s silent for a moment as you stare at her profile, the hint of a smirk coming up her lips.

“It’s stupid of you to concern yourself with me. It’s my problem, not yours.”

You still didn’t get it.

“But why does that piss you off?”

She turns towards you now.

“I know what I’m capable of. I know what I’m getting into. You don’t. You walked into a fight that wasn’t yours to begin with, and in return, you got hurt.”

“So…you’re mad that I got punched in the face?”

A groan leaves her falling chin. 

“I’m mad that you were there to begin with. I’m mad that you got hurt on my behalf, and I’m mad that you’re dragged into this mess. It’s my shit to deal with.”

She pauses to take a deep inhale. “And…I took my frustration out on you, and I’m sorry.”

The tensed muscles of anger faded from her apology, her eyes carrying a softness you’d never seen before. She was being genuine. Open. Vulnerable. 

You sighed with her. 

“Thank you.” 

The quiet that fell over you two now was pleasant. It was nice seeing Vi like this, being used to her thirst for arguing. Your head leaned back against the rock as you let your eyelids close once more. 

“How bad is it?”

Her fingers touch you softly before you peer up at her. She gazes at the blood smeared under your nose with a grimace, her pointer finger stroking the welt on your cheek. 

“It’s fine. Could be worse.”

She shakes her head. “...It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

You scoffed. “It’s completely mine. I’m the dumbass who jumped into a fight that wasn’t mine, remember?”

You smile at her despite the twang in your jaw. Her hand falls back to her side.

“My hero.”

Her lips upturned, the scar on her upper lip flashing itself at you. You don’t miss the way she falters for a moment, relishing the close proximity her face is to yours. Her fingers twitch by her thighs to touch your cheek again, but instead she smacks a hand on top of your head, gently ruffling your hair. 

She stands up to make way back to the bed. “Come to bed. You need rest, too.”

You haven’t moved just yet, the whirlwind of her processing slowly in your brain. Your skin felt hot under your cheeks, but as you shakily stood up to join her, you found the burden of her turning into something else. 

Vi was different, now. Good different. You liked this different. Laying down beside her on the mattress, you don’t turn away from her.

[waokevale]

Some Dwarf headcanons, since they're extremely underrated and deserve more love. (And lore)

I imagine them to be humanoid, but at the same time, very creature-like. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of them just being like Marvin from Looney tunes and straight up having a pitch black face, but I wanted to play with something different. :>

They have thin fur but it does very little to protect them from the cold.

They have night vision and are nocturnal.

They can see very well in warm light, but struggle seeing shades of green.

They regularly visit floor 100 to keep up their ancestors' tradition of Lava eel fishing.

Speaking of lava eels, I'd like to imagine they eat them whole, like that one quote from the Canon-Friendly Dialogue Expansion mod.

They can survive in insanely hot temperatures and are relatively unharmed by lava, but they struggle a lot during Winter.

They are ectothermic or 'cold-blooded', their internal body temperature is similar to that of a reptile, hence why they're especially uncomfortable with cold temperatures.

Winter is actually when their kleptomania is at its highest peak. Due to the scarceness of supplies and foregables and their need to eat a lot more to keep up their body warmth.

They sleep very little and can't hibernate, so instead they have to rely on eating a lot more food than usual, since they burn energy insanely quickly.

Unlike shadow people, they become independent from their guardian a lot quicker. They mature quicker too, but they live significantly shorter. (Still about 20 times longer than a human though.)

They used to keep many stonefish pets throughout centuries, but gave up on raising them after the 53rd one died. (Yeah those don't exactly live very long...)

They were created in a laboratory, which soon thereafter came to ruin. – They don't remember anything of this time and don't know the whole story of their origins.

They're one of the youngest living members of their species.

They of course consume minerals on regular basis; those are very rich in elements which Smoluanu require to survive.

To be able to easily break open said minerals, their teeth are extremely sharp. Almost as hard as diamonds, although they don't use them very often and would rather grind them up with tools.

Their bone structure is at least 5 times harder than that of a human, except for their skull, which is their only true weak point. Hence why they only need to wear protection for their heads.

They have rat-like paw-pads on both their hands and feet to protect them from rough terrain, though they chose to wear clothes over them.

Part of the reason why Smoluanu wear clothes and helmets is to disguise themselves from their enemy. No shadow fiend has ever seen a Smoluanu without their disguise, or so they say...

If it were to come to that a Smoluanu has been spotted without their helm by a void spirit, they would immediately have to kill them. If it was a group of brutes however and they were cornered, they'd be forced to blow both themself and their enemies up.

Dwarf has been collecting the helms of their fallen brothers and sires and keeping them on a shelf as mementos and as a sign of respect for them. They sometimes bring tokens, which remind them of the fallen person and place them inside their helm.

They hope that one day, they'll be able to recover the lost secrets of their ancestors' technology. That's why they appreciate when the Farmer gives them artifacts. It makes them feel closer to their ancestors' history and adds another puzzle piece to their theory about them.

For now though, they like to tinker and make small gadgets, usually nothing as ambitious as Maru, but they sure are trying. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

That's all I have for now. 👍

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Hii !! From the smut prompts (stop rolling your eyes, I know Im predicatable!) could I request "Accidentally Sending Nudes", "Sexting" and... a secret third thing (the choice is yours, go hogwild) for Jason x Fat Fem Reader? I'm leaning more towards sub!reader but shes def a little shit about it :3

Thank you in advance if you write it !! 🌼

See, this is why it pays to send in a request with me, because even if I don't answer it right away, I keep requests in my inbox for months and come back to them later!!! (This is from December 2023)

(Also this request is just plain fun) (because Star knows exactly what buttons to push to get me lmao)

DC Titans Requests - OPEN

How would Jason react to you accidentally sending him a nude?

(Jason Todd x Fem!Thick!Reader)

Warnings: set specifically in the Titans!verse - set during season 3/mentions of season 3 plot points; spoilers for major plot points of Titans (including character deaths on the show); this is kind of enemies to lovers? (enemies to fwb, I guess); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader is described as being fat/plus sized; passing mentions of Gar x reader (I couldn't help myself); dubious consent - because of the nature of the trope, Jason sees the reader naked without her explicit consent, and he decides to keep the picture without her consent - but it does spark a consensual sexual relationship between them; passing mention of using nudes for blackmail (that does not happen); this isn't really proofread; (generally, I consider this post to be a fucking mess because it was written in Tumblr but I was still trying to have fun with it lmao.)

...

Jason is minding his own business when it happens.

(For once in life, he is fully, completely, minding his own business.)

He's back in Gotham and he hasn't seen you in months - and if asked, he would say that he hasn't thought about you. He doesn't have time to think about you because he's been too busy with this therapy bullshit, training, trying to get back his title of Robin. Trying to get back in the cape. (And trying to get back in Bruce's good graces.)

But that's not exactly true. He's thought about you a lot.

(Most of those times have been with his hand around his cock, but again - he won't admit that.)

There is an occasional time that you cross his mind and it's because he's wondering genuinely how you're doing - wondering if you're well, how your training is going, wondering if you're doing okay under the Dickhead's reign. But he can't ever pluck up the courage to text you and simply ask. Because that would be admitting that he cares, and that would make him look like a weak little prick.

And that's why he's so damn surprised when you text him first.

He hasn't heard from you since he left the Tower (well, since he stormed away from Donna's funeral in what you called a 'toddler fit' - something that ended in a rather vicious text argument between the two of you). In fact, the last thing in the text history between the two of you is you calling him a 'giant, petty, whiny baby who can't deal with his own emotions'.

(You had no clue what had happened between him and Rose, so that did inform a lot of your opinion on the matter.) (And that was probably the reason why Rose still had all of her teeth after you had seen her at the funeral.)

But all of that was aside from the point.

The point being - Jason found himself smiling when your contact name popped up on his phone.

He has you in his phone as 'Pretty Girl' - along with a contact picture of you sticking your tongue out at him in response to having his phone shoved in your face with the knowledge that he was taking a picture of you. (That tongue always makes him think certain things, so even though you intended for it to be some rude thing to ruin the picture, it makes it so much better for him.)

(1) new photo

That instantly catches Jason's attention.

Perhaps you were sending him a picture just to flip him off, or sending him a picture of a dumpster to ask him if it reminded him of home - a common joke you used to make when he still lived at the Tower.

Jason grabbed his phone and opened the message, expecting another tired joke, and-

Holy fuck.

The last thing he was expecting - your naked body. Your gorgeous naked body.

(He likely would have expected a nuclear blast or for the Joker to clean up his act and actually become a decent, sane citizen before he expected this to happen.)

Jason brought his phone closer to his face, making the picture full screen in order to examine it better - he needed to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or that this wasn't some weird dream. But fuck, he definitely wouldn't be able to dream up this.

You were so perfect - so fucking perfect in a way that was so very real.

The picture was a fucking stunning side profile of your body - rolling curves, lacy underwear that could clearly barely contain your impressive hips with sweet little stretch marks jutting out from the fabric (jagged little marks across the softness of your skin that made Jason want to act up) - soft fat for him to grab onto, and the perfect teardrop shape of your breast, now bared to his eye in a way that he had only dreamt of before. Something that he had stared at through the oversized tee shirts you wore to bed without a bra, just wondering what you looked like underneath.

And fuck, this was so much better than anything he could have dreamt up.

Jason's cock began to harden almost instantly, and laying in bed, he reached over to his nightstand for some lube, ready to milk that picture for all it was worth, when-

His phone buzzed again.

Pretty Girl: 'Delete that.'

Jason hadn't even considered that you had sent it to him by mistake. He had been far too busy enjoying to even consider the intention or the psychology behind it.

So, he took his hand off the waistband of his sweats and texted back the first thing that came to mind.

'No.'

(He didn't hear your annoyed growl on the other end, frustrated at his downright typical Jason behaviour.)

'It's not my fault you made a dumbass mistake. Besides, it's the least I get after all the nagging from you.'

Then, something else came to mind as the bubbles popped up, meaning you were busy formulating a reply - an annoyed one, no doubt.

'Who did you mean to send it to anyway? Who are you fucking whose name starts with J that's not me?'

(You hesitated.)

Pretty Girl: 'I didn't type in J.'

'???'

Pretty Girl: 'I typed in G. And it turns out the first contact that popped up was Giant Baby. That's you.'

Jason felt annoyed and insulted on all levels. The fact that you were going to Tiger Boy for dick instead of him, and the fact that you had used such a mocking contact name for him. But when he realised that such a pathetic string of events had caused him to accidentally see you naked, he couldn't be too upset.

'I'm still keeping the picture 😈'

Pretty Girl: 'You're such an asshole' Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me one'

'Fine, I'll owe you one'

Jason shrugged it off, thinking he had won, until -

Pretty Girl: 'No, you owe me a cock.'

This made Jason's stomach jump. You couldn't possibly mean-?

Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me a picture of your dick. You know - an eye for an eye type stuff.'

Jason wanted to ask questions - what did you plan to do with the picture? Should he shave his balls first? Did you want more than one?

But his cock got even harder at you asking for a picture, at you demanding to see his cock, and he couldn't properly think - he couldn't even reason that you might later blackmail him with the picture.

No, instead, he found himself ripping down his pants and turning on the bedside lamp for good lighting, pumping himself up to peak rigid hardness and grasping the base of his cock in hand. And then, without hesitation, he snapped a picture for you. He made sure to get his abs in the photo - a collection of his best assets, with his pants pulled down to mid-thigh, showing off his tight stomach, the deep V leading down to his dick, and his thick seven inch cock in hand surrounded by some well-kept dark pubic hair.

(He was proud of it - and that ego was one of the things that annoyed you most about him.)

He sent it without hesitation and then you began typing several times and stopped once again. Jason's stomach churned with nerves until -

Pretty Girl: 'Fuck you' Pretty Girl: 'I thought it would be smaller'

Jason had no clue how to respond to that, and he was busy racking his brain for some clever reply, when -

Oh. Oh fuck.

(1) new photo

You had sent him another picture. And this time it was definitely on purpose.

It was a view between the plump, beautiful thickness of your thighs - your hand was inside the pretty lace of those panties, and your fingers were visible working on your clit while your needy hole dripped wetness onto the fabric.

So you had liked what you had seen.

Pretty Girl: 'What would you do if you were here right now?'

Jason's brain short-circuited then. He thought of so many things - eating your pussy until you screamed, flipping you onto your stomach and fucking you until you begged him to stop, gripping onto those gorgeous thighs, pinning them to your chest and pounding into your cunt until you finally surrendered and said that you had liked him all along, fucking your smart little mouth to finally shut you up-

Pretty Girl: 'Come on, Jay. Don't disappoint me.'

Oh, he won't.

(Another thing Jason won't admit - he came back to the Tower just for you.)

...

DC Titans Masterlist

[physalian]

10 Character Dynamics the World Needs More of

Me handing out character dynamics like free samples at the Mall Food Court: “Take one! Or two! You’ll love it!”

I don’t care how many times these tropes have been done – write more of them. Write all of them. Fill out your author bingo card one by one.

1. “No one gets to kill you but me, Old Friend”

This. Right here. Primo rival content that I *live* for. All the juicy history between two old frenemies, the character drama, the backstory, the titillating unknown of what drove these two to rival status, bitter enemies that respect the heck out of each other, to the point that hell hath no fury should one get knocked down without the other’s consent.

And, of course, the moment where it seems all bets are off, when the rival comes to save their ass only to hand it back to them at a later date. The angst! The shipping fodder! Need I say more?

2. A bigger, badder villain, and their minion

You, reader, spend countless hours hating the guts of the big bad villain. They’re evil, they’re vile, they’re sadistic, heartless, irredeemable bastards. They killed your favorite character for shock value. The big bad moustache-twirling antagonist… is actually not the biggest fish in the story.

Either they’re coerced into doing evil as a puppet of the Bigger Bad, a tragic villain in their own right, or they have some reservation, some line even they won’t cross, someone else’s boots they have to kiss, someone who features in their nightmares, as they feature in the heroes. They end their stories dispatched without a thought by the Bigger Bad, or redeem themselves in death by taking out their masters. It never gets old.

3. A leader and their lancer: besties

You know what’s better than leaders and lancers who have zero faith in each other and are constantly bickering about who should be in charge? Leaders and their right-hands who adore each other (platonically). They have each other’s backs, they know each other’s greatest strengths and weaknesses and are each other’s perfect covers.

They can communicate with looks and vague gestures alone, they compliment each other’s flaws and misgivings, build up the rest of the team when they’re down on their luck, and should misfortune strike either, they pull out all the stops and show off exactly why they’re not to be trifled with, so that even the villain is afraid.

4. “I don’t even know who you are”

Oh, but you will. This one twists the knife, robbing the avenging hero of the importance in this world they’re desperate to maintain. They are their own hero, the sun revolves around them… but not to this one asshat that ruined their life and doesn’t even remember doing it.

An entire identity built upon the finding, fighting, and overcoming of this wrongdoer, every other goal in life cast aside for this one impossibility. Either the villain toys with the hero to make them irate, or gets suckerpunched by some pissant fueled by vengeance and spite and divine purpose to dole justice where justice is due.

6. The jaded badass and their naive ward

If the last 8 years of media is anything to go by, we still love this trope, whether it’s in a galaxy far, far away or a fungi-zombie post-apocalypse, or in the twilight hours of an era of legendary mutants. The best part of this trope? You get two often contradictory character types in one body. The pessimist, PTSD-ridden master of old with no living friends left and at least one dead love interest *and* beneath all that, still lies an atrophied heart of gold just waiting to be nurtured and revived.

The naive ward gets a hard lesson in how crappy the world can be, but also in how there’s still some goodness left, if their guardian cares about them. The jaded badass in turn, learns how good the world can be, that there’s something still worth fighting for beyond the next bottom of a bottle.

6. The enemy of my enemy (is my friend)

Similar to the “old friends”, this trope is often a result of the minioned Big Bad realizing they don’t want to be evil anymore. Or, bitter old rivals, sides of a war that have been fighting for generations, ideological polar opposites, fundamental polar opposites all come together when: Some evil schmuck managed to scare them both.

Doesn’t matter on what shaky ground this temporary alliance is built, or how long it lasts, equally-competent badasses on both sides finally work together and compliment each other’s strengths, and compensate for their weaknesses, in a way their teammates never could.

7. The irredeemable villain’s only wholesome connection

Not so irredeemable anymore, now are they? This trope messes with your head, taking a character you know has done heinous acts of terror, but who cares unflinchingly, unabashedly, about one thing – either their lover, their pet, their relative, or their kid.

This exists independently of the heroes and is not the same as an “oops I guess I’m your father” reveal. I’m talking this character who everyone is convinced cares about nothing and no one but themselves and their ambition still has a place in their soul for something they want to protect, they want to be loved by, or that they must spare from their atrocities.

8. Platonic Heterosexual Friendships

These two have seen each other at their most vulnerable. They’ve shared fears, dreams, desires, know each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. They’ve seen each other exhausted, frazzled, dressed up, dressed down, bloodied and broken and like a raw, open nerve. These two would die for each other, they would live for each other, and yet.

They’re not in love with each other. They’re wholly comfortable in each other’s spaces without lust and desire mucking up the atmosphere. Neither is the one, neither wants to be the one. They remain together not for the bonds of romance, but for the bonds of friendship, and nothing could be stronger.

10. The Ace and their best friend, the Self-Proclaimed Slut

These two respect the f*ck out of each other. One never mocks the other for lacking desire and in return, they’re never mocked for their promiscuity. They’ll never walk in each other’s shoes, but they don’t need to, to understand that’s just how some people are. They’re each other’s safest spaces when the world doesn’t take either of them seriously.

They’re each other’s biggest defenders against the bullies, presumers, the holier-than-thous who think they have it all figured out. They’re the perfect compliment to give advice on everything from relationships to the best outfits for an outing because there’s *zero sexual tension* between them. Or, maybe, if the stars align, they’re something more.

10. The redeeming villain, and their staunchest skeptic

This villain has lost everything – their home, the respect of their people, their worth, their evil ambition, their identity, and has begun working their way up from rock bottom doing everything in their power to show the heroes that they’re serious. They make amends, they break their bones proving themselves, they’ve swayed everyone they’ve wronged in the hero camp.

Except one. The one character that was probably their first defender, and got burned for it. The character that was naive enough to think this villain could be saved, and was wrong. The character that won’t be duped again without some serious drama and soul-bearing between them.

Now tell me which ones I missed!

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

NOTE: I shocked myself with this, hope y’all enjoy ^^ also since (y/n) is somewhere in another universe she can’t control this body she’s in, thankfully I hope that helps and doesn’t confuse anybody.

⟣・S2・PAINT THE TOWN BLUE︰

THE SOUND OF laughter echoes in your ears as loud music boomed with constant chatter of criminals and civilians alike. You bobbed your head up and down aggressively as you worked on some sort of machinery, nails long and colored your (f/c) to added to the outfit you were wearing. Your fist aggressively hits the table that you were seated at, your hair dyed an orange color with bright red highlights.

“Pass me another one!” You shouted, arms littered with tattoos and you also wore a pair of goggles, something felt different about you. weird, most likely.

Like a change. And nothing felt good about it either.

“(Y/n).” A woman shouted over the loud music that you played while you drunk from a jug, your boots clank against the floor as you scream the song from the top your lungs, making the woman behind you cover her ears in annoyance.

“(Y/n)!” The woman shouted once more.

The world here looked different, more…ruined and torn. but the city was still active.

You were inside zaun. piltover was taken over and destroyed by the topsiders who went berserk cause of a leak. It was like a zombie outbreak but wasn’t, caitlyn and vi were still alive too but— they kept their distance from you for whatever reason.

“(Y/N)!” The woman shouted louder, throwing the music box onto the ground.

You burst out laughing and slipped off your goggles, turning towards her. “How can I help you dear friend? did you wanna check out my explosives again? or the money I stole from—“

“No!” The woman retorts, “it’s kris to you. do you know you stole from the same people we’re enemies with?!”

You deadpanned, showing off your pearly whites. “And so on, and so on..even if did steal from them, it shouldn’t matter. we’re enemies may I remind you? so what if millions of dollars were taken from them. piltover is gone all thanks to ME! so you’re welcome.”

Kris growls. “You know they’ll be after us, correct? because you couldn’t keep those filthy hands off that launcher. glad your parents aren’t here to see this…I know they’d be disappointed.” She mumbled lowly under her breath.

One of your eyes twitched when she said this, “you don’t know anything about me.” you say through clenched teeth.

“You’re weak.” Kris retorts. “Weak people make mistakes all the time-- they’ll never get it right.”

You tilt your head, your hair falling against one side of your face as your teeth chatter against themselves with impending anger. “I’ve done what I did for us. you don’t see any enforcers bombarding you with any weapons-- now do you?! I’ve done everything I did to get zaun to this point with you. so I’m not weak, you are because you had me do your dirty work! the entire council I killed was for your sake and zauns so get it right!”

Kris gaze softened. “I know, kid. I just..I’m worried for your well-being okay? I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.“ She says, rubbing the skin above her eyepatch.

You blinked a few times before holding back your tears, “I’ve always looked up to you, Kristy. I wanna help.” you tell her.

Kris opened her arms for you to hug her, and when she did you rushed into her arms and held her close.

This version of you wasn’t as fragile— you seemed strong, headset on ending anything that would get in your way.

A few sobs escaped you.

You felt like the same little girl again when you had witnessed your parents die— Casandra kiramman being the cause of it— sending those enforcers to kill your parents even though they had done nothing wrong.

And then when you first saw her daughter, caitlyn, you knew you had to get your get back. so the fall of piltover was satisfying for you.

Kris wasn’t sure what was going through that mind of yours but she knew you had a good heart. a good heart like yours would say otherwise, though.

“ITS BEGINNING TO FEEL…” You sang in a raspy voice as you spin around in your chair, holding a very dangerous bomb in your hand. “A lot like christmas!” you stomp your foot against the ground hard, the muscles on your body straining as you picked up a heavy box, this version of you seemed stronger, less angry and more..happy. A soft hum leaves your lips as you grabbed your gun, waving it around as you started having visions of a blue haired girl and a pink haired one— her sister wearing an enforcer outfit— the one you didn’t hesitate to kill during the accident in piltover— well, you didn’t kill her, you almost did.

Vi didn’t hate you but she was scared that you might try hurting powder again, her younger sister that was now in a coma because of you.

Caitlyn hated you. despised you.

Of course she hated you. you killed her mother, hurt her girlfriend’s sister— you were a monster, in her eyes.

A monster…her mother created.

A monster she created.

A monster vi created.

They were no angels in your eyes, just demons. the demons you were headset on ending.

“Don’t move.” A soft voice says. “You’re under arrest.”

You don’t turn around as you felt something press against the lower end or your back, it felt like a shotgun but way worse.

Vi stood in front of you, blocking the doorway as she makes sure you don’t leave.

You chuckle. “Wow. what a way to sneak in.”

“Stop talking.” Caitlyn demanded. “Turn around and let vi cuff you.”

You snort, stepping back as you stared at a trembling caitlyn, her gun now aimed at your chest. “I don’t wanna do something I’ll regret. so move!” she demanded.

You stare her directly in the eyes, not bothering to move.

“Just do what she says, (y/n).” Vi pleaded. “You’ve already done enough damage.”

Turning to vi you see she had moved away from the doorway. “You don’t know anything. I thought you understood me, but the second I saw you with her, I thought-- ‘oh she’s just like the rest’. and you are. nothing but a bluebelly in a sock. that’s all.”

“The girl I knew-“

“Knew.” You cut her off. “Yeah. who you knew. that’s not me anymore.”

Caitlyn kicks the bottle of shimmer to the ground, which was full to the hilt. “You’re doing her dirty work again? she’s no savior, (y/n). you killed my mother because of what she had asked you to do?! Kris is just another—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You shouted, your head beginning to hurt. “You have zero respect, I made a name for myself. so put some respect on it!”

Caitlyn sees you start to lose it as you hit your fist against the ground repeatedly, collapsing to your knees as tears fall down your eyes—

Tears of shimmer.

Voices felt like they were talking to you left and right, telling you to end it all with everyone inside. But you had to finish it.

Standing up slowly you don’t turn to face vi and caitlyn, your fingers twitching. “Get out before I do something I won’t regret.”

“(Y/n).” Vi spoke, hesitantly making her way towards you and placing her hand on your shoulder. “I know you’re in there. I know you have to—“

“VI!” Caitlyn screams when she sees you head butt her heard, vi yelps and clutched her now bleeding nose.

Reaching into your bag, you grabbed your launcher which was colored red and orange, the belt around your pants loop loosened a bit from falling to the ground. “I’m tired of talking to a bunch of hypocrites who won’t listen.” you say hoarsely.

“Just…” You trail off. “Fucking die. get out of my life. leave me alone!”

You were about to pull the trigger but caitlyn tackled you to the ground.

The two of you struggle for dominance but you get the upper hand while using your shimmer that had already invaded your mind and your veins, you grab caitlyn by the hair and slam her head into the ground.

“Cait!” Vi shouted before she rushed towards you and threw you towards the ground, “stop! you—“

Your eyes dilated as you looked at vi, she looked way too much like the girl you had met when you were younger— it’s like everyone in your life either left you or abandoned you— that’s why you were so happy Kristy too you in.

Like a real mother.

She was the only one you had.

“GET OFF ME!” You screamed and threw vi to the ground and off of you.

You straddle vi’s waist and wrapped your hands around her neck, cutting the air from her lungs. Vi struggles to get you off her, thrashing around in your grip��� nails digging into her flesh.

Vi starts to cough, face going blue.

The mascara that was around your eyes were smeared from the tears that you had just cried. Caitlyn finally came to her senses and saw what you were doing, hurrying to her feet she rushed towards you and hit you in the face with her knee.

You let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground, blood rushing down your nose.

This was caitlyn’s chance. She had you right where she wanted you— she was ready to take her anger out on you since you were the cause of this after all.

Caitlyn uses her fist and connects it against your face, punching you repeatedly as tears fall down her eyes, vi coughs as she clutched her neck, gasping for air.

You felt tears brim your eyes, legs shaking as caitlyn continued to hit you, the blood from your nose now splattering against your chest and face. You clawed at caitlyn’s face, scratching her cheek.

But then…she stops. Her eyes landing on your orange and red ones as she sees your bloodied face, the tears that were falling down your eyes which was shimmer making her regret hurting you.

“Your mom did this to me.” You cried. “So the way she hurt me I wanted to hurt you. make sure you didn’t have any parents.”

“But why?! I had nothing to do with what she-“

“I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOUR DAD WHILE I HAD THE CHANCE!” You shouted, “then maybe you’d really feel how it felt to lose everything, you bitch!”

Your mouth finds her finger and you bite down hard, feeling something crack.

“Shit!” Caitlyn shouted and pulled away from you, a few tears escaping her eyes as she saw you lay on the ground.

“We have to go.” Vi tells her. “We can’t save someone we’ve already lost.”

Caitlyn stares down at you, anger fueling her. “I’m not letting her get away again.”

You stare at the bomb that lays beside you, “yeah…me either.” You then rushed over and grabbed your launcher, aiming it at the two of them.

“I’m not gonna deal with this again.” You spoke hoarsely, blood still dripping down your nose and onto your face. “I’m done being your puppet.“

Pulling the trigger you see the bullet leave the launcher, vi covers caitlyn and the both of them hurry out the window.

The bullet misses and hits an abandoned building.

“No!” You screamed. “No, no, no! that’s not how it was supposed to go!”

You had missed the shot again.

“Eyes on the target.” An enforcer says from a walkie while sitting on another building.

Caitlyn stares at a bloodied you and turned to vi, nodding.

“Take the shot.” She tells him.

The enforcer pulled the trigger on your gun, aiming for your head. but you saw this and dodged—

Sadly…

Your hand didn’t.

The bullet shoots off two of your fingers, making you look in shock— the blue electricity from the crystal flickering. You stare at your hand, tears escaping your eyes.

Did they go too far…?

You ran off, disappearing from their sights.

This was only the start of something worse

END OF CHAPTER FOUR

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1553

Chapter 23:

With little time to spare, everyone rushed to find thick branches or tree roots they could somehow detach.

Then, they proceeded to wrap it with cords, leaves, or vines; each adding their little own touch to them. At the same time, Lilia was commenting on how she hated the brooms and flying due to how often media associated with witches.

The only one not participating was you, who simply kept guard; ready to blast magic at anything that moved.

When everyone had done the couple ritual, where two witches enchanted and exchanged brooms; only then did they notice you with no broom in hand.

"Wait, Y/N doesn't have a broom," Alice pointed out, earning the coven's attention.

"Can't we make her one?" Teen asked, surprised by the fact that you had remained quiet and broomless.

"Only if we were am even number. We can't give her one of our own brooms, " Jen explained.

You waved your hand dissimively to ease the worries of your coven. "I don't need it either way. I can use my magic to fly, " you explained, earning different expressions from them.

Teen smiled in excitement. "Wait, you can fly with magic?"

Jen scoffed. "Of course you can,"

Alice seemed interested. "If it is a spell that allows you, we should be fine,"

Surprisingly, neither Agatha nor Rio seemed to agree with the idea.

"Absolutely not," Agatha argued. "We need to stick together, and she can't match a broom's speed."

Rio nodded faintly. "Better her riding with someone. She can join me. "

"Safest option is with me." Agatha disagreed, arguing with Rio while you stood not so far away; having no saying even though the topic was about you.

Before anyone else could comment or extend the argument, one of the Salem Seven appeared almost out of thin air; close to Alice and Teen.

The protection witch, though, acted fast and used the broom to smack and attack the corrupted witch; sending them on the ground.

Just then, Lilia took notice of something by the end of her peripheral vision.

"Agatha!" She exclaimed as another Salem Seven witch had appeared and now too close to its original target.

This time, you were faster to react.

Sliding on the muddy ground, you managed to cover the distance between your lover and you. As you pushed your legs to stand up, you extended your left hand and wrapped it around Agatha's waist; pulling her closer to your body that was positioned sideways but also further away from the enemy.

At the same time, white magic had gathered in your right hand, and you extended it forward; placing it on the chest of the cursed witch.

Your magic worked like a powerhouse, causing pain to the mind hired witch while also sending them flying back; quite a distance.

The force and momentum of the attack had even caused a weak wind current that moved some of your strands back while you stood there, holding Agatha by the waist.

Agatha had not expected the blind attack from her sworn enemy, so to speak, and neither your interference. Yet here she was, both hands grasping your upper arm as the sudden pull had her losing her balance; resulting in her slightly leaning back.

She stared at your profile for a moment longer, surprised by your attack but also the position you two were in; momentarily forgetting the grave danger that was approaching.

"How did you do that?" Alice questioned, the first to break the odd silence and also ruin your little mood.

You helped Agatha stand properly and did not fail to glance at Rio first, taking notice of the face she pulled. It was her silent way of saying 'not bad' along with the lines 'I am impressed'.

"I find hurling and throwing your magic from afar rather risky and also makes it easier for the enemy to dodge or block" you explained as you turned to face her, your hand still wrapped around Agatha's waist and her hands still holding your upper arm for dear life. "Instead, unleashing your magic in close quarters has a higher chance of success, and the impact is more powerful."

Teen looked at you as if seeing their idol live on stage, his dark eyes glowing with interest. "Wow," he exclaimed, unable to find where to start his questions.

Jen cleared her throat, having enough of the unnecessary talk. Mind hived witches were after them, and she would love to get as far as possible from the danger.

"Think we can finish this later," she commented. "We need to go,"

"We still haven't decided who will fly with Y/N.

"She can fly with me," Teen said, lifting his hand halfway as he spoke. "I have never used a broom before... I mean an enchanted broom cause I have used normal brooms at home -"

"Enough, kid," Agatha said, lifting her hand to silence him. "Let us go. She flies with you. "

Rio looked at Agatha, clearly not fulling agreeing but said nothing. Instead, she watched you walk towards the teenager, the two of you exchanging a smile.

"Let's do this," you told him as you both held the broom in your hands.

Wasting no more time, you all started to run towards one direction. One by one, everyone jumped on the brooms and mounted them; quickly gaining height.

"Wait! How do I-"

You interrupted the Teen. "On my mark, mount the broom," you instructed, and as Lilia took flight, your chance arrived. "Now!"

Without hesitation, he jumped and mounted the broom. His hands held it for dear life just as you managed to mount the broom right behind him.

"Wow!" He exclaimed as the broom slowly started going up while also gaining more and more speed.

At the same time, you could hear Lilia laughing from joy and Alice having the time of her life, both exprtely navigating the broom.

The ones having he easiest time were Agatha and Rio, who have also taken the lead and had the most experience flying on brooms.

It was hard, at first, with the low branches, and the boy had stated to worry; feeling the loops and sudden moves would throw him off, even if your hands were around his waist.

"Oh, God!" Teen exclaimed.

Lilia was amused. "Try praying to the Divine Mother, kid," he advised the future witch.

Just then, an opening was presented, and one by one, the coven flew up; heading for the night sky.

Teen hesitated, seeing the claw like branches and the fact that he had to fly almost straight up; his mind reminding him of what gravity would do if he tried.

"Please, divine mother," he prayed and dared to closs his eyes as he tried to guide the broom up.

He felt a cold ethereal touch on top of his hands and then the sudden feeling of your stomach dropping while the pressure and change of air hit you all in once.

Thankfully for him, the up way was short and before he knew it; the broom was vertical again, and he could feel the cold night air against his cheek and curly hair.

Opening his eyes, he was left in awe at the beautiful sight of the Red full moon right next to everyone.

He looked down, noticing how small the trees looked, how normal the road seemed, and how fast you were going.

It was then he saw an extra pair of hands placed on top of his, remembering this ethereal feeling of magic he felt when he prayed to the Divine Mother for the first time. He turned to look above his shoulder, seeing you leaning against his back and having a smirk on your face.

"You're welcome, kiddo," you told him, making him smile faintly as a thank you. "Eyes forward and don't you dare close them again"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am"

As the coven flew in formation, Agatha took a moment to breathe the cold air and be reminded of the sense of freedom she had been denied for so long. Broom flying was always so freeing, offering a sensation few things could truly match.

But then she dared to look at her right and saw Rio, in all her supernatural glory, riding that broom; her face screaming confidence and raw power as the wind blew back her hair.

Conflicted and defeated, Agath tried to look at her left and take some comfort in the blood red moon when she noticed you and Teen gaining speed.

You giggled faintly as you were trying to instruct the boy how to hold the broom and how to command it.

At that moment, you seemed to be happy and relaxed, clearly enjoying teaching him. He was also chuckling faintly as he absorbed everything you told him, doing his best to make you proud and show you that he was paying attention.

Agatha could not help but imagine you, being the same to Nicholas had he ever the chance to grow. Spending time with him, teach him the brooms, the stars, and so many things.

Her heart felt heavy, and she did not dare to trail further down that path. Instead, she looked forward again and tried to focus on anything but you with the boy and Rio.

Chapter 24

[mearcairz]

Hello tumblr let me take a moment of your time to put you onto my worst enemy

looks like a normal tree right? WRONG

these things are sent straight from the bowels of HELL with the SOUL PURPOSE of ruining my entire week

LIKE LOOK AT THEM WHY DO THEY MOVE LIKE THAT

now, i can already hear you typing,

“Xavier, the evermeans are one of the weakest enemies in the game, you are a coward and your bloodline is weak”

and while i do see your point, you are objectively WRONG and i am going to show up to your house WITH A HAMMER

Listen, when im trying to enjoy a nice little stroll through the virtual forests of Hyrule, yknow trying to get myself immersed with the game, the LAST thing i need is THE WEIRD COUSINS OF THE ENTS FROM LORD OF THE RINGS BURSTING OUT OF THE GROUND AND SCARING ME NEARLY HALF TO DEATH WHILE IM TRYING TO ENJOY MY BOWL OF CHICKEN RAMEN AT 3 IN THE MORNING

I hope you can all see my frustration with these ABOMINATIONS TO GOD and i will NOT be taking any constructive criticism GOOD DAY SIR

[prettiestlovergirl]

YOU CAN BE THE BOSS

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); rough sex; degradation kink; hair pulling; dacryphilia; begging; some drinking; dom! mattheo; bratty! reader; french! mattheo; impact play.

concept: you and mattheo have been enemies with benefits for a while now, but after you score higher on a test... he wants to make sure you still remember your place with him ;) song: you can be the boss by lana del rey

a/n: still pushing the french! mattheo agenda bcos bilingual men make me go weak in the knees (and ruin my panties). my french is still shit, they do not teach you kinky pet names in high school french class! so bear with me you guys. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

mattheo riddle was the bane of your existence and the source of all your most recent orgasms.

you couldn't stand each other! he thought you were an insufferable know-it-all and you thought he was a cocky asshole. if it were up to you, you'd have never had to interact with him again.

then, after one late night in the library, it was like a flip had switched on in you both. you still couldn't stand each other, sure, but suddenly you both seemed much more bearable to the other when his cock was bruising your cervix.

and thus began the new phase of your relationship: taunting and teasing each other in public and then fucking out your grievances in private. it was the perfect system, really.

today, you had been particularly insufferable to him. you'd scored exactly two points higher on a charms test and hadn't stopped gloating. you needed to be brought down a peg or two, and mattheo knew just how to do it.

you were both in the common room, the quidditch team having thrown a party to celebrate your house victory in the game against ravenclaw.

you were certainly cocky today and you knew it, your small academic victory had made you a bit giddy. normally, you wouldn't have cared, but mattheo was so annoyed by it, you couldn't help but rub it in! how were you to know that there'd be consequences to your actions?!

when your eyes finally landed on mattheo, he'd been holding a red solo cup and talking with theo in the corner. he looked hot, not that you'd ever tell him that. he didn't need his ego getting any bigger.

you were used to him pouncing on you almost immediately after you spotted him, so when your eyes landed on him and he didn't even look over? you instantly knew that it was him being petty.

well, if he wanted to be petty, two could certainly play that game! he wanted you to come crawling to him and beg him to fuck you? you'd rather die! well, not die, but you know.

mattheo could feel your eyes on him, but he made no effort to look your way or give you any attention. if you wanted him, you had to put in the work tonight. if you wanted to be stubborn, he was more than willing to go home alone and leave you to suffer.

the next hour consisted of you trying to gain his attention in a multitude of ways. you flirted with blaise, danced with theo, even left a perfect imprint of your lipstick on draco, and nothing. little did you know, he kept a tally of every little act for... later use.

he continued to ignore you, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to grab you and fuck you right there in front of everybody. you weren't his girlfriend, but you were still fucking his, and you were absolutely gonna pay for your teasing.

after another 20 minutes, you were done. he was sitting back on the couch, the usual picture of cocky and casual that both turned you on more and simultaneously made you want to slap him across the face. it was a fine little line you walked daily.

you walked up to him, arms crossed over your chest as you narrowed your eyes at him. "fine! you win." you hissed, only to be met with his stupid smug smirk.

"i'm sorry? not sure what you mean, ma douce, (my sweet) what exactly did i win?" he questioned, giving you a fake n innocent look. "i win at so much, gonna need you to be more specific."

you should have just walked away. he was too cocky, it made your skin crawl, but fuck you needed him. "this! this stupid little game your playing, you win, i give up, lets go. now." you felt like a child, wanting to stomp your foot on the ground and beg for his stupid attention.

"ah, well, since you asked so nicely." he grinned, taking his sweet time getting off the couch and setting his cup down. he didn't grab your hand or look back to see if you followed him up the stairs; he knew you would.

"you are such a sore fucking loser!" you huffed once the door was closed, making him laugh at your annoyance and frustration. "so fucking dramatic." he smirked, hands already slipping under your skirt to grab your ass.

you moved to kiss him, but he turned his head away, instead choosing to place his lips on your neck. "dick." you whined, nails scraping over the nape of his neck while his teeth sunk harshly into your skin. "who? me. i'm being nice, don't want to ruin your pretty make-up, môme" (brat) he scoffed back, rolling his eyes at your dramatics.

you dug your nails into his skin as retaliation, but it only resulted in him spanking your ass so hard you yelped out. "un tel putain de gosse" (you're such a fucking child) he murmured as he brought his hands up and unbuttoned your school shirt.

his hands moved quickly to push the fabric off your shoulders, but his mouth moved slow and rough as he let his teeth graze over as much of your bare skin as he could. he might have been annoyed with you, but fuck did he love seeing you covered in his work.

you were getting desperate for more and he knew it, the slowness of his actions entirely purposeful. "mattheo, please." you begged, head leaned back as he smirked against your skin. "please, what? you know i like it when you use your words."

"i hate you." you grumbled, hissing lightly at the pain of his fingers digging into your waist. "sorry, 'm sorry!" you huffed, biting your lip before going on. "please fuck me. now." you half begged; half demanded.

"that's more like it." he smirked, spinning you around and smacking your ass once again. "get on the bed, salope (slut). on your stomach" he commanded, and you happily complied. you laid down on the bed, ass up in the air just like he'd told you to.

"putain (fuck), look at you." mattheo sighed, lifting your skirt up with his hands while he dragged your panties down just under your thighs. he used his hands to keep your spread open, admiring your already glistening pussy.

"you've been so cocky all fucking day, flirting around, bragging. what would they all say if they could see you now? all soaked and desperate." he cooed, dragging his thumb all the way through your folds.

you whined a bit, hips attempting to grind against his hand the best you could before his other hand came back up and spanked you harshly. "gotta stay still, ma douche (my sweet). don't wanna see your pretty little head get hurt." he teased, rubbing over your warm skin.

"s-sorry." you nodded, instantly whining as he pulled away from you. you kept facing the wall, but you could hear his belt being undone and him stripping right behind you.

mattheo groaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock, moving it up and down a few times as he admired the view of you all ready for him.

you wiggled your hips a bit, desperately waiting for him to put you out of your misery and fuck you. he chuckled at your desperation, smacking his cock against your ass just to hear you gasp and moan out.

"tease!" you huffed, grabbing the bedsheets gently as he started to slowly, teasingly, rub his cock through your wet folds. he was just trying to make sure your wetness was spread evenly, that's all! he was being a good fuck buddy.

"fuck, mattheo, please!" you begged, closing your eyes as he continued to tease and mess with your puffy cunt until you were close to tears.

"i had to watch you walk around, flirting with all my fucking friends like a fucking salope. (slut) now you're here, whining and begging for me to do you a favor? doesn't work like that, ma douce (my sweet). you take what i give you, got it?" he asked, spanking you again for good measure.

"'m sorry! 'm sorry, i know, but please, mattheo! need you!" you begged, his hand moving to hold your hip down to keep you from squirming while your arousal dripped all over his cock.

"you gonna be a good girl f'me? if i fuck you real nice, are you gonna keep running your mouth downstairs?" he asked, to which you immediately nodded. "yes! yes, i'll be so good, won't say a word, promise, just please!" you whimpered.

"well, if you promise." he teased, and thrusted all the way into your soaked pussy. he groaned as your walls fluttered around him. you'd fucked dozens of times at this point, but he never got tired of feeling your walls squeeze his cock.

he moved painfully slow, tearing out whines of anguish and frustration from your throat as you gripped his bedsheets. "what's wrong, ma douce (my sweet)? i thought you wanted me to fuck you." he mocked, squeezing your ass tightly.

"please, please, please!" you whined, desperate tears starting to drip down your cheeks as he pulled almost all the way out before slowly and roughly thrust all the way back in. you could feel every inch of him filling you up over and over.

"'m just doing what you asked, ma douce (my sweet). or do you need even more from me?" he scoffed, squeezing and massaging your ass as he continued his slow thrusts.

you instantly nodded, not caring that he was mocking you n calling you greedy. you were too fucking desperate and needy for him and all your tears only seemed to make him want to tease more.

"tellement putain de gourmande." (so fucking greedy) mattheo smirked, punctuating his words with another slap to your ass before finally giving in to your pleads for more and speeding up his thrusts.

"fuck! yes, thank you, thank you, fuck yes!" you moaned, his hips snapping roughly into yours as his free hand gathered your hair into a ponytail, tugging you back and making your back arch.

"such a needy fucking brat, what am i gonna do with you?" he scoffed, looking over your teary face as you continued to moan and whine as he fucked you rough and hard.

you couldn't speak, mind already so hazy from the way his cock stretched your walls. he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, swallowing your moans and squeaks of pure fucking bliss.

he tasted like the malt liquor he'd been drinking from before and you swore you were getting drunk off the taste. he sunk his teeth into your lower lip, groaning against you as he bullied your pussy again and again with no remorse.

your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, signaling just how close you were to cumming. "mm, please, make me cum, please!" you whimpered against him as he pulled away from your lips, hand still tightly fisting your hair as he fucked you.

"that's it, that's ma douce (my sweet). be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock, yeah? cum all over my fucking cock." he commanded, watching as your legs shook on either side of him while you coated his cock in your creamy slick.

he let go of your hair and you practically collapsed against the bed, face smushing into the sheets. he continued to fuck into you, groaning at how much tighter you felt now that you came.

you whined as the overstimulation started to set in, but you were unable to squirm with your legs all jellylike and his hand keeping you in place. you sobbed in pure bliss, staining his sheets with your mascara and tears.

"fuck, that's it fuck." he grunted, biting his lip harshly as he slowed down. "fuck yourself on me, ma douce (my sweet). make me cum." he demanded, drawing another whiny cry from your lips.

"c'mon, you want to be a good girl, don't you? thought you were sorry for being such a brat, huh? fuck yourself on me." he cooed, kneading your ass while you pouted but nodded and forced yourself back up.

you rocked your hips back against him, working at a sluggish pace as you were still too blissed out to function normally. the alcohol n orgasm n cock still filling you up left your brain numb and blank.

after a few more rocks of your hips, he pulled out of you and started to tug his cock until his cum shot onto your back. he watched as your swollen n gummy cunt leaked with your juices, panting as he watched you collapse and he laid down beside you.

you both laid there until you both caught your breath. your eyes were heavy n you were already starting to doze off when he nudged you. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." he smirked, pushing himself off the bed.

"whatever you say..." you mumbled sleepily.

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[strwbabydoll]

pairings: boyfriend!mafia!Harry x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: Harry's known for being ruthless in the way he does his job, a day out with his girlfriend takes a horrible turn.

content warnings. IMPORTANT: hurt no comfort. blood, guns, knifes, and death. please read with caution

authors note: this has to be the darkest story i've written and i just want to say please read with caution, don't read if you are uncomfortable with any of the warning written above. minors please don't interact. this may or may not have a second part following the aftermath.

----

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

Everything seems to go wrong one after another and Harry blames himself. If he hadn’t been so reckless, had been paying more attention he would’ve seen it coming. He figured they’d come for him eventually, there’s no denying that part. He had enemies, there’s no doubt about that. It just comes with the job, or the title he would say. Being a head boss of his huge mafia crew, he’s bound to have enemies because of the fact that he’s relentless in his ways. 

He doesn’t waste time with questions that most people ask before killing someone, he gathers the information beforehand and watches them before making his move. He’s mean in his acts, likes to torture them and prolong the pain before quickly putting them out of the misery (he just doesn’t like to hear their screams.) He’ll beat them and laugh while doing it, mocking their cries while he tortures them. He’s well known around the United States, his name sending fear through most people that hear it. No one wants to deal with him, to end up on his bad side, while other mafias will send their catch to him sometimes if one of their employees doesn't want to do it. He’s popular with the other bosses, constantly being invited to any events and to teach but he declines, it’s simply a waste of his time. 

While his hard exterior scares off anyone in sight, there’s one person who broke down his walls and quite frankly is  the complete opposite of him. While he’s all black and grumpy, she’s soft and sunshine-y, all bows and giggles and sweet smelling perfume. She doesn’t hang around him while he’s “Mafia Harry,” usually out shopping or baking or whatever because she can’t stand blood or seeing anyone get hurt though she understands why he does what he does. His men think he’s crazy half of the time, the amount of times they’ve walked into him smiling on the phone (when he’s not bossing his men around, barking orders over the phone or beating someone to a pulp) or chuckling to himself at certain points of the day is concerning to them. 

He doesn’t talk about his personal life to them aside from his closest man on the team, EJ who has heard bits and pieces about Harry’s girlfriend, his other men don’t get paid to listen to him gush on and on about the girl of his dreams. They whisper amongst themselves about how he’s smoked too much or needs to cut back on drinking and drugs and whatever else he does, they think it’s all gone to his head. None of them bring it up to him though, they know better than to do so. After all, he is the one that signs their checks and he treats them well enough that they don’t want to mess up any chances of keeping their job. They just don’t understand how their grumpy and uncaring boss can be so smiley and happy, especially before he has to take care of someone. 

He keeps her away from his job for a reason, there’s no need for anyone to see her, to know that he does in fact have a weakness. He doesn’t want to take a chance of a mole coming in and reporting to their boss about her. His main focus is protecting her and making her happy, always having her sporting his favorite smile. Besides, she’s too pretty to be around all the gruff men and blood and screams. He doesn’t want to tarnish her in any way, he loves her just the way she is and he refuses to be the one to ruin her view of the world. He doesn’t want her to end up like him, all grumpy and somewhat pessimistic of the world and always on the edge whenever he leaves the house. He wants her to keep laughing and cooing at cute animals they pass by, wants her to feel comfortable enough with him to always be able to shut her brain off and just follow him aimlessly. 

He’s a busy man, constantly having to answer phone calls and texts and emails and double checking surveillance videos to make sure they have the right guy, but he tries his best to leave work at the door when it’s just the two of them. He wants to be able to just enjoy the time together and not have to worry about who he needs to find next, wants to be able to look at her smiling and be content with that. He wants to enjoy their time together, doesn’t want to be distracted with his work duties and the constant sound of his phone dinging. 

They normally would just hang out at the house, watching whatever tv show either of them were interested in or just lounging around. That’s one of the main things that he loves about her is that she’s content with just existing with him, his past partner wanted to go out all of the time and party. He didn’t necessarily mind it, but he prefers to just unwind and relax on his off days; he just wanted to have a sense of normalcy, the peace amidst his chaos and his storms. That’s what happened when he met her. It was a cute little meeting that Harry still brings up quite frequently and is one of Y/N’s favorite memories of them. 

Harry was having a bad day, it all seemed to go wrong. While he’s always grumpy, he woke up especially grumpy that morning and of course he tried his best to not take it out on his employees, but of course still ended up being overly sarcastic with them, grumbling about whatever they did that upset him so he decided to make a trip to just breathe. He grabbed his jacket, hat and sunglasses and quickly let EJ know he’s leaving and he’s in charge for the meantime. He walked for what seemed like hours before he landed on a small coffee shop, a small run down looking building with plants in almost every corner and empty space. He figures this might help with his grumpy mood so he walks inside, the smell of coffee and different pastries fill his nose immediately, the sound of the different conversations happening all at once and the soft piano music coming from the speakers fill the space and his ears. 

He ordered a drink out of his normal, one that was recommended by EJ’s girlfriend actually, a tall white chocolate mocha with just a drizzle of caramel and it has to be iced. Those were her words exactly, it won’t taste as good if he doesn’t order it exactly how she says it.  The lady looked at him weird, a concerned glance that only says she knows how to do her job so she’d appreciate it if he didn’t doubt her abilities. He only gives her a nasty glare in return, one that flusters her so she walks away mumbling to herself as she starts making the order. He then walks to one of the nearby walls, leaning against it as his eyes scan the room and taking in the different personalities, mainly doing this to be aware of who else in the room with him (as if anyone who’s in the mafia would be ordering coffee, let alone from the same cheap looking building that he’s in,) but still just in case. 

Not even a couple minutes later, his order is being called out and he walks up to the register once more, hoping this will help his grumpy mood. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should’ve been though, otherwise he would’ve known that this wasn’t his order actually. As he went to grab the cup of coffee, another hand reached out as well, one that was smaller and softer. Painted nails and a few rings on the fingers, and he immediately looks up with a scowl ready to tell the person off. It was his drink after all, what were they thinking? When he looked up, he was met with a soft apologetic smile and the prettiest of eyes, her hair held back with a big bow and an outfit to match. She smelt like heaven if that was a smell, sweet smelling and strong; a scent that matched her aura perfectly, although Harry wouldn’t call it her aura, he didn’t know the right word to describe it. 

He couldn’t go off on her, it’d be cruel and he’s not that mean, so he just stares at her. She immediately begins to fidget with her hands and he can tell he’s intimidating her. 

“I’m so so sorry! I just assumed this one was mine because I was here before you, but you can go ahead and take it!” She says through a breath, her eyes wide and face flushed. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, he doesn’t understand why she’s giving away her coffee if it’s true. He’s not gonna just take someone else’s coffee no matter his mood. 

“No, no go ahead. If you were here first then I’m not gonna just take it.” He says as he pushes the cup closer to her, he can feel the unnecessary glare from the worker at the whole interaction and it only irritates him further. 

“Are you sure? You seem very…um…. Grumpy and I’d hate to make your day worse.” She says as she pushes the cup towards him. 

This is all very silly, the whole situation. He’s just trying to be a gentleman and she can’t grasp that. He then grabs the cup and puts it in her hand, forcing a smile to seem as if he’s friendly and not trying to hide his frustration. 

“I’m serious, I don’t even know if I’ll like mine, it was a suggestion from a… friend of mine I guess. Enjoy it before it gets watery.” He says, but he doesn’t understand why he’s being so nice to her. Maybe because she’s pretty? But he doesn’t want to date her, he can’t afford to waste his time like this anymore.  She ends up telling him her name and asking a couple of questions to try to make small talk and unfortunately for Harry she’s fairly easy to talk to. They talk until his drink is ready, and then some more out the door as they walk to their destinations and then she has the confidence to ask for his number, which of course (and against his better judgment) he agrees. 

After that it’s pretty smooth sailing, conversations whenever they have the time, and of course a little white lie whenever she asks about what he does for work. Months later, Harry found himself asking her to be his girlfriend and of course she said yes. They usually spend their time lounging around and just existing in each other’s company, but today Y/N wanted to go for a little walk around the town. Normally Harry would be against it, especially when it’s right after he just took care of a member of a rival mafia who’s higher up on the scale and he knows he has several mad enemies looking for revenge. But Harry had thought that he’d been doing a good job hiding her from the public, having her dress as one of his men or wearing some sort of disguise after he told her the gist of what he actually does, so he doesn’t think much of it. He agrees but tells her they can only be out for half an hour, no more just to be on the safe side. She squeals excitedly before tugging on her shoes and throwing on one of his jackets and basically drags him out of their apartment. 

She shows him a couple of her favorite spots in town and gives him her favorite orders and practically begs for him to try, he will always try anything she wants. They talk quietly, wrapped in their own little bubble of bliss and this was Harry’s biggest mistake. He’s usually very attentive whenever they’re out and about, but he allowed himself to be distracted listening to her talk. She’s excited as she talks about some outfit she wants to get for the pet they don’t have, her eyes all bright and full of excitement. The air is warm against their skin and the clouds begin to roll in, dark and menacing and this is where Harry should’ve begun to take a hint. 

Things seemed too calm, aside from the storm beginning to roll in. It seemed too quiet, and then the rain began to fall. Small droplets of water cooled their skin and Y/N smiled brightly at the sky, silently thanking the universe because she always likes walking in the rain. It just always seemed so romantic to her. Harry didn’t think too much of it though he was still cautious. His eyes still scanned over the sidewalks and streets, trying to stay alert of his surroundings. He watched as Y/N tugged her jacket closer to her, a signal that she’s getting too cold but she’s always been too stubborn to let him know, she just enjoys being outside too much. 

He just assumed that time would be on his side with all of it, and had enough time to somehow throw the Gallegos family off of his tracks long enough to not have to be on edge anytime he’s out. He hates it whenever he feels as if he’s putting Y/N in harm's way, hates the feeling it gives him knowing he’s the reason she can’t just walk down the street or just even exist in this world. He’s too scared of someone linking her to him and then taking her away. Y/N says she doesn’t mind all that much, this is the happiest and the most taken care of she’s been in a really long time. As long as they’re both happy and safe, then she could care less. 

Harry didn’t see it coming. The breeze was picking up and the rain was coming down harder, thunder began to boom in the sky. The storm was coming, and it was coming fast. Everyone was scrambling to get indoors or to their cars and Y/N’s just smiling but still walking fast, she hates being too wet for too long. They were bumping into one another and Harry walked a beat behind her, just in case she happened to trip or anything. There was a slight commotion happening in front of them, the sound of gasps and the shuffling of feet as they were pushed to the side. Before long a man is running at them, a hood hiding his face and wearing baggy clothes. Harry still doesn’t think too much of it, maybe a burglary or he upset a store owner, but he’s still cautious. He walks closer to Y/N, his face turning mean in an attempt to deter the man from bothering them. It’s useless though, a good attempt at best but the man moves closer and Harry frowns. He wraps an arm around his girl and begins to move her onto the other side but the man is already right beside them, still moving. 

He’s an arm's length away and before anyone can realize it a knife is entering Y/N’s side and she’s groaning and leaning over. Harry can’t believe it, he frowns deeply and his eyes scan over her. He picks her up and begins to make his way through the crowd to find an empty spot, to make sure they’re safe before anything else happens. There’s more gasps and murmurs around them, more than likely the bystanders either assume he did it or they’re just shocked. It’s not every day that you see blood pouring out of someone. Right before Harry can get them into an alleyway and when he clicks on his ear piece to alert EJ about what’s happening, a gunshot sounds and the bullet goes into Y/N’s head, her blood splattering over his clothes and onto his face. 

He hurries into the alleyway, tears streaming down his face as he stares in disbelief. 

“EJ here, what’s up boss?” EJ’s voice comes through Harry’s earpiece. 

“EJ, they found me. They hurt her. I need you to get into all the security cameras on the strip and find out who did it, search for snipers as well. One Knifed her and someone else shot her,” His voice cracks on every word. He gently sets her down onto the ground near the wall, once he feels as if they’re far enough. Hidden enough by the shadows of the buildings but with just enough light to see the damage. 

It seemed as if the sky screamed with Harry. 

The rain was pouring down heavily, the clouds dark and the wind was unforgiving as it blew harshly against the trees and the ground below them. The lighting strikes were loud, bright flashes of light burst from the sky randomly and loud rumbles of thunder were deep in his ears. Mother Nature has to be upset as well, crying with and for Harry and his loss. He can’t believe it, the love of his life. Gone. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes are just barely opened, she doesn’t have much life left. 

“You fucking promised! You can’t leave me! Don’t hurt me like this… please” Harry’s voice cracks as he sobs over the body in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, mama. I’m so fucking sorry, you didn’t deserve this and it’s all my fault. I knew me being in your life was a bad idea but I couldn’t help it. You made me so fucking happy, the happiest I’ve been in a while. You deserved nothing but happiness and smiles, you shouldn’t have to worry about hiding. I was selfish and I’ll forever blame myself, I should’ve let you go. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, please. You can’t leave me. I need you.” He cries, his words are muffled into her neck, somehow hoping him speaking into her body will magically bring her back to life, keep her alive. He can’t hear anything aside from his own sobs, everyone else doesn’t matter to him at this moment. He’s sure that EJ is trying to talk to him, but he can only focus on the fact that he’ll never be able to hold her again. 

He’ll never be able to hear her laugh again. He holds her tighter to him, his tears landing in her skin and he screams. He screams and screams forever, he doesn’t care that he’s gaining attention from the people walking by. He doesn’t  care that they’re calling the police and ambulances, doesn’t care that he could be attracting his enemies. They took the only thing he truly cared for. He knows he’ll never be able to love again. There’s a few people trying to help, ask if he needs anything. Offering to take them to the hospital, even the paramedics can’t get to her. He won’t let them take her away from him, he can’t bear it. He can’t imagine a life away from her. They’re trying to convince him that she needs to go to the hospital, trying to take her from his hold. He just holds her limp body tighter, crying harder and yells at them. 

Eventually they’re able to calm him down enough to remove her from his hold and they begin to transfer her to the ambulance. 

“Don’t bother taking her to the hospital. Just take her to the morgue. She’s dead. There’s no saving her.” He says as he wipes his tears, everyone just stares at him. 

“Please.” He says and just walks through them, he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Right now, he has a mission. He’s determined to get revenge. 

He now has no reason to not hold back anymore, and he plans on finding each and every one from that group. 

He’s not going to play nice, and he’s going to take his dear sweet time. If they thought he was crazy and ruthless already, he’s going to prove that he’s insane now.

[smileyoongle]

Pairing- VampireKing!Jungkook × Human!Reader

Genre- Arranged Marriage AU (Sort of?), Enemies to Lovers, Soulmate AU

Summary- Jeon Jungkook was known to be a tyrant, destroying anything and everything to get what he wanted. And this time, he wanted you.

A/N- Hi guys, this chapter is not essentially a chapter in the series. It is more like an explanation of the current world order in the series' timeline. Please remember, there is going to be no taglist for this series, so keep your notifications on. Okay bye :-)

The Exodus: Unveiling the Origins and Consequences of the Night-Walker Dominion

By Elara Claxon

July 14th 1324

Three thousand years ago, the world witnessed a cataclysmic event known as The Exodus. It was a day when Hell, overwhelmed by an unprecedented number of sinners, could no longer contain them. In an act of desperation, the Devil unleashed these tormented souls upon the Earth, transforming them into vampires. They emerged from their graves, giving birth to an era of terror and bloodshed. These night-walkers, driven by an insatiable thirst for blood, wreaked havoc across the world, decimating entire populations and forcing humanity into hiding.

For years, humans struggled to survive, constantly on the run, seeking refuge from their relentless pursuers. In the midst of this chaos, they began to uncover the weaknesses of these creatures and devise means to counter their strength. It was during this dark period that two self-chosen leaders emerged—Theron for the humans and Aristarchus for the vampires. These leaders, whose names have since become legendary, met in secret to negotiate a fragile peace.

At the time, the world was divided into thirteen nations. Theron and Aristarchus brokered an agreement to partition these nations based on mutual understanding, creating a semblance of order amid the chaos. For a while, this uneasy truce held, allowing both humans and night-walkers to coexist in their respective territories.

However, not all vampires were content with the division. A faction of them, hungry for absolute power, revolted against the established order. They waged a brutal campaign, overthrowing the human-controlled kingdoms one by one until only a single human nation remained. Today, the world is divided into twelve vampire kingdoms and one human kingdom, a stark testament to the aftermath of the great night-walker revolt.

To govern their expanding dominion, the monsters established a ruling council known as the Domini, composed of the seven oldest and most powerful night-walkers. These ancient beings, with centuries of wisdom and strength, assumed control over the night-walker kingdoms. They decreed that one vampire would be chosen as Emperor, tasked with overseeing all thirteen kingdoms. Despite this, the human kingdom remained autonomous, refusing to acknowledge the night-walker emperor’s rule.

The Domini also codified a set of laws and principles in a tome called "The New Order." This book became the cornerstone of vampire governance, outlining the rights and responsibilities of both the Primas and the Foundlings. Primas, the pure-bred who were awakened from the grave by Hell or some miracle, held a revered status. Foundlings, created from turned humans, were often treated as outcasts within their own society.

In recent times, tensions have reached a boiling point. The humans, determined to reclaim their lost territories and sovereignty, have incited revolts across the vampiric kingdoms. These uprisings have led to widespread destruction and loss of life on both sides. Cities lie in ruins, and the streets run red with the blood of humans and night-walkers alike.

The world now stands on the brink of another great upheaval. The delicate balance maintained by The New Order is crumbling under the weight of renewed conflict. As humans fight to regain their power and night-walkers struggle to maintain their dominance, the future of this fractured world hangs in the balance. The Domini, once thought to be the unassailable rulers of the night-walker kingdoms, find their authority challenged at every turn. The ancient treaties and laws that once held the world together are now mere relics of a forgotten era.

In this tumultuous landscape, the fate of humanity and night-walker-kind alike is uncertain. The echoes of The Exodus still reverberate through the ages, a grim reminder of the chaos that can ensue when the balance of power is disrupted. As both sides prepare for the battles to come, one thing is clear: the world as it once was will never be the same again.

Stay vigilant, stay informed, and may we never lose hope.

For information, or to report news, please find us at:

23 Shadowed Alley, Raven's Cross, Valoria

The Eyewitness Post | Keeping the Light of Truth Alive in the Darkest Times

[watarfallar]

Desert Duo treats because it's a week until Christmas

Grian: I’m going to get so much done today. Scar: I’ll hold you to that. *8 hours later* Scar: So how much did you get done? Grian: One thing. Scar: Well, that’s one more than usual.

Scar: So my therapist was talking to me and she said that I really just need to break down my walls and let people in. Scar: So I’ve decided to break the fourth wall. Scar: *looks at camera* Hi there. I use humor as a coping mechanism.

Scar: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Grian: Yeah? Scar: Bitch.

Grian: *Gives a bouquet to Scar* Scar: You know I'm allergic. Grian: That's the point.

Grian: Is this mistletoe? Scar: Uh, no, no, that is basil. Grian: Too bad cause if it was mistletoe I was gonna kiss you. Scar: Yeah, no, it’s still basil.

Grian: What have I done wrong?! Scar: Everything. For your entire life.

Scar: If it’s any consolation, they got me here on a very misleading text message. Grian: Technically, you are about to be screwed in the biology room.

Scar: What is wrong with you? Grian: Many, many things… Grian: And most of them are your fucking fault.

Scar: Live fast, die young, leave behind a pretty corpse! That’s what I always say! Grian: You should say something else.

Grian: My back hurts. Scar, walking into the room: Take the spine out.

Scar: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. Scar: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. Grian: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that? Scar: Ominous positivity.

Grian: Scar, what did you just do!? Scar: I took your advice. I stopped running from the problem and I tackled it head on. Grian: I meant try emotional honesty, not murder!!

Scar: I’ve become a bread crumb dealer to four crows at the lake. They pay me with a bit of everything. Like shiny things, fabric, or pens. But recently they paid me with a 20 dollar bill they found somewhere. So I decided to buy them some more expensive bread. They loved it. So they understand what to do. Give me money. I’ve probably racked up about 200 dollars at this point. Is it morally wrong though, I mean. They’re the ones who steal the money from others. Or perhaps they just have a big pile laying somewhere. Should I keep on doing this? Grian: You sound like the start of a Batman villain.

Scar: Detective! The man belonged to some kind of cult that worshipped a divine forest creature with antlers and that’s how he met his end. Grian: Dear God! Scar: Yeah! Exactly!

Grian: You've got to act tough, Scar! Show 'em you can't be pushed around! Show 'em they can't mess with you! Scar: Right. Yes. Tough. Got it. Scar, standing up on their stool and slamming their hands down on the bar: I'LL TAKE A CHOCOLATE MILK.

Grian: Fight me! Scar: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Scar: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Grian: Don’t preach to me about romance, Scar. I had a three-way in a hot-air balloon.

Scar: What’s sexting? Grian: I'm not having this conversation with you.

Grian: If I ever had a child, I imagine they would be a lot like you. Scar: Aww, thanks— Grian: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

Scar: What’s your greatest weakness? Grian: Interpreting the semantics of a question, but ignoring the pragmatics. Scar: Could you give an example? Grian: Yes, I could.

Scar: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time? Grian: AS ENEMIES?! Scar:

Scar: I desire moisture. Grian: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

Scar: Babe, you're so funny! Grian: We have 1492 days until your tragic premature death. You will break my trust three times before that happens, but I forgive you. Scar: Awwww, that's sweet of you!

Grian: I didn’t want to do it, no one else wanted to do it, so I made Scar do it!

Scar: You got a date yet Grian? Grian: No… Scar: Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

Grian: Dammit, you ruin everything! Scar: You're welcome.

Scar: They called me the B-word. Grian: Motherfucker doesn’t start with ‘b’.

Scar, talking about Grian: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH HIM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? HE DID. HE KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO.

[frawggie]

Another HC of mine after rewatching the High Rollers DnD episode with the BG3 crew:

Astarion and Tav (or Durge) get to a point of closeness that he begins to teach them hand signals. It’s somewhat a mix of sign language, but more like an evolved form of a 3rd Base Coach’s signals, like so:

It ends up becoming extremely handy more often then not because they often are sneaking into places they don’t belong, need to keep the element of surprise, etc.

One day they (and the entire crew of companions) are trying their damned best to enter some ruins teeming with enemies without being spotted. The enemies are pretty weak, but it would be a hassle to just face so much numbers head on.

So they split up into two groups to form a pincer attack. Astarion takes one group, Tav takes the other. When they get into position, Astarion and Tav begin signaling each other, but now can’t come to an agreement as to how to execute the ambush.

They are furiously signaling one another. It’s a flurry of speaking with hands and facial expressions. Eyes are sassily rolling; lips are mouthing cusswords and more. It devolves into them flipping one another off while still signing about the plan (that’s how they silently express extreme displeasure).

The companions are so enamored by the silent bickering that they begin snickering at this looney toons ass argument. They completely lose the element of surprise as the enemies pick up on the group now howling with laughter.

[hoony2k]

I'D LOVE TO HATE YOU IN EACH LIFE

You were a werewolf, he was a vampire, both corporate slaves, can I make it more obvious?

Pairing: vampire! Jake x werewolf! reader ft human! sunghoon

Genre: enemies to somewhat lovers, work place au!, they like each other but don't know that yet au (?)

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: none just imaginary strangling as a metaphor for love

Note: it took me a day to write this but 3 years to decorate it. Hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it. Jake ily ♡

Masterlist

The hum of the printer had just begun when a sudden scent filled your senses. It was unmistakable, completely unavoidable. The stench of earth and ruins overflooded you and the realisation of who had entered your sanctuary dawned upon you. Of course, it was him, the same man who walked either unaware or unbothered that the breath of death clung onto him as he marched into the office.

With unholy steps, the vampire stacked his papers right next to yours. A deep exhale left your nostrils in an attempt to calm your annoyance and to distract yourself from his suffocating scent.

“Jaeyun”, you growled.

He rolled his eyes in weak irritation and waved his hand around as a greeting though it hung in the air as an insult.

He shoved your papers near the edge of the table. “I’m going to be your supervisor soon. Better learn to show me respect”.

You stalked up to him, abandoning your post by the printer that dutifully spit out documents you were scanning. You pointed an accusing finger in his face.

He jerked his head backwards, and a strand landed perfectly on his forehead: vampires and their stupid innate visual perfection. You shoved your finger in his face once more and he scowled, your claw barely missed poking his eye.

“Good luck trying to save your skin after I get promoted. I’m going to make you wish you never left Hell”, you snarl.

He smacked your hand away and laughed loudly, dull eyes scanning you up and down with a burst of interest.

“He didn’t tell you?”

You squinted your eyes at him despite not needing to do so, though it allowed you to appear intimidating, Jake’s expression wavered from arrogance to mild discomfort until his smug smile returned to his plush pink lips.

He leaned closer to you and sinfully whispered the words he knew you could easily hear.

“Heeseung took me to dinner last night. Bought me the classic five-star steak, and showed off his black card”. You raised a brow in disbelief at the story. There was no way your boss would be stupid enough to show blatant favouritism before choosing who gets his comfy chair and floor to ceiling window office.

You turned your back to Jake, conveying the most apathetic look you could muster. He sensed your sceptical attitude and brought a poisoned apple for you to bite.

The printer beeped, you took out the printed files and then crouched down to reach for the fresh stack of A4 papers to add to the printer.

Jake inspected his short nails when he spoke once more.

“Yeah, he told me a story of how he sent some dumb mutt chasing ghosts”, he ended the sentence in a sing-song manner which did more than grab your attention.

You bumped your head under the table as you hastily stood to your feet, heels allowing you see the other man eye to eye. Fingers shaking with anger, you fumbled through the newly printed documents and sparks inflamed inside you when you realised that it was true. Heeseung had asked you to print out all the files Sunoo Kim from Sales emailed him-they were merchant details from last year. You weren’t even printing out the updated version. This was all useless information from months ago. Jaeyun wasn’t lying, he acted as Heeseung’s pathetic date last night.

By the time your consciousness allowed you to return to the present, Jaeyun had doubled over in laughter. His eyes were misty with unshed tears, lashes fluttering. His boyish giggles echoed through the room and resonated in your heart with a sick clang. He had his head thrown back revealing the long curve of his neck and angular jaw, his strong shoulders hidden under a pristine dress shirt shook with each deep breath. He covered his face with his hand to calm himself but his loud laughter increased when he met the fury in your eyes.

God, he truly was beautiful. And he’d look ethereal with your hands around his neck trying to end his infinite life.  

The next course of action occurred in a blink of an eye. Had Jaeyun not been occupied with his fit, he could have blocked you or certainly halted you with ease. Though, fortune seemed to favour you. In less than a second, your nails automatically grew and hands flew to his collar, with all your body weight pushed upon him, he stumbled backwards until his back harshly collided with the wall and he choked out a silent gasp. The numerous tables in the room shook gently with the impact, ink, staplers and whatnot clanged in their plastic containers but you paid attention to the noise.

You ignored how Jaeyun’s raised brows returned to their usual height, how his dilated pupils shrank then grew again at the sight of you, how his shock morphed into delight and he stretched his lips to show off his teeth, fangs challenged you further, begged you.

His arms hung by his sides even when a crumb of the drywall ceiling fell onto his gelled hair, painting his dark locks silver.

You shuddered in a deep breath to calm yourself before you did worse like actually punch his pretty face. That would be a ticket straight to HR, a perfect opportunity for Jaeyun to bad-mouth you. His collar crinkled under your grip, your nails were close to tearing holes in the stiff material.

Your voice felt like hot venom to Jaeyun.

“I want you to get lost and find someone else to entertain your childish behaviour before I-”,

Sudden advancing steps paused your threat at the tip of your tongue. Grip on his collar loosening, you allowed his body to slide an inch down, his heel finally touching the ground though Jaeyun continued to stare at you, clearly unconcerned regarding your change in attitude.

The door of the small printing room was flung open and revealed co-worker Park Sunghoon with a bright smile adorning his face. For a minute second minute period he stared at the questionable position he found you two with perplexity, but his charming expression did not diminish.

Instead, he chose to ignore whatever might have been happening and stepped closer to you, arms stretched out for what you and Jaeyun presumed to be an oncoming hug. Your nails shrunk to their normal length and Jaeyun zipped his mouth shut.

Immediately, you were proven right as Sunghoon engulfed your bodies in his, his arms went wide trying to hug two bodies together. The dusty bleak scent of vampires merged with the human’s pure scent infused with spicy perfume and you held your breath. With one final squeeze that pushed your face into Jaeyun’s neck, Sunghoon decided to kill the intimacy. You poked an elbow in Jaeyun’s ribs in a petty fashion and he shoved you backwards in return.

Sunghoon’s immense glee was what blinded him from your sour expressions. His arms never fell to his sides, they hung in the air in an invisible web, ready for another hug. You tiptoed closer to the table and Jaeyun pretended to need something from the printer. Then, Sunghoon’s words had the blood drain from Jaeyun’s face and fired icy dread in your stomach.

“You guys will not believe what happened! I got promoted to Supervisor!”

Jaeyun stood dead in shock but you marched towards Sunghoon, expression laced with confusion and a hint of hope that this may simply be a misunderstanding. Sunghoon wasn’t even a candidate. He wasn’t present during the interviews. He joined the company this year. Jaeyun and you had been around for longer, given your hard work, intellect and slaved away for more hours than Sunghoon ever had-

Said man grabbed your shoulder delicately, the innocent smile remained on his face. “I know! I was as surprised as you guys are. I didn’t think Heeseung liked me”.

You were rendered speechless. Sunghoon let his hand fall to his side, then stared around in evident awe, still in disbelief. He gave you and Jaeyun one final nod and smiled.

“I gotta run guys, I just wanted to share the news with my two buddies”.

The door clicked shut softly and the sound brought Jaeyun back to life and he fell to his knees. He cursed under his breath once, then twice. You sighed deeply and felt all anticipation for future purchases wash down the drain. Jaeyun shook his head and stared you right in the face.

“That guy doesn’t even know my landline number”.

You answered with another sigh, shoulders slumped.

“That’s bare minimum information. Hell, I know your number by heart”, he spoke loudly.

You glanced at his feeble attempt to connect the dots. On a usual day, you would have watched him suffer, you would have enjoyed it so much. The bittersweet taste of seeing his furrowed brows and pout left you with the satisfaction of knowing something he didn’t. Yet, there was no joy in watching him crumble today. You answered his questions for him.

“He doesn’t care about us. He came here to brag, Jaeyun. It’s that simple,” you picked up the printed documents and traced the dates. You debated throwing them but the thought of wasting paper stopped you. “He doesn’t have lunch with us or any of the other employees. He just disappears”.

Jaeyun sprung up to his feet, hand reaching the table to balance himself. He was far too close to you and he turned his face to look at you, inches closer than before. You could count the pores on his face and see yourself reflected in hollowness of his dark eyes. Your eyes trailed the long slope of his nose bridge, his cupids bow, then you forced yourself to a stop.

It took him a moment to collect his composure, a futile attempt to wear his usual smug face but you could tell he couldn’t be bothered to keep face.

Both of you lost the war.

It was the vampire’s turn to sigh. “I guess we know who he was having lunch dates with”. He spat out the word ‘date’. You spared a gentle glance at him, actually soaking his presence in for once.

There were no weapons aimed at you nor were there any threats you were about to spit at him. For once, you looked at him.

Jaeyun was tall, confidence oozed from his body language and words, he wasn’t bad to look at either. This was probably the first ‘non-work’ (as much as it could be) conversation you two shared, the most decent you two had ever been before.

You flung the papers in the bin, shoved them all inside then stomped on them for personal satisfaction. Jaeyun watched with a raised brow as you turned to him, your shoulders pulled back and a flirty smile hung on your lips. You had transformed your self beforr his eyes, gazed sweetly as him instead of scowling at his entire being.

He could get used to this.

“Wanna grab lunch early?”.

He mirrored your smile, canines out on display. He watched how your eyes narrowed at him and he responded ny scanning you up and down with hooded eyes.

What was this shift in the limbo, a peace treaty? Truce? Whatever it was, it wasn’t friendship that swam in your eyes. It was a silent challenge, a howl that called to his unbeating heart. Whatever it was, Jaeyun was ready to drown himself in it.

“What are we waiting for?”.

Thank you for reading! please do not edit/translate/copy.

[ltash]

Englufed by passion

Slowburn, angst, death..

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

In the dance of death, their shadows bled,

Love turned to ruin, a bond misled.

He held her close as her breath grew weak,

A kiss of the blade, no words to speak.

The corset fits like a second skin, the delicate fabric caressing every curve, each tug of its ribbons accentuating the shape you've worked so hard to conceal. The halved top frames your figure, a deliberate choice that hints at vulnerability. Your fingers smooth over the material, lingering on the way it clings to your waist before you force yourself to look away. The clock ticks. Time isn't on your side, but then again, it never is when it comes to Simon "Ghost" Riley.

Your heart beats faster at the thought of him, your enemy, your equal, and tonight, your accomplice. You lean into the mirror, applying a sheer gloss to your lips. The applicator glides smoothly, leaving a subtle sheen that catches the dim hotel lighting. It's a small act of vanity, perhaps even indulgent, but necessary. Everything about your appearance tonight is designed to disarm, to beguile. Not because you think you can manipulate him, you're not foolish enough to underestimate Ghost, but because you want to see if he can be shaken.

The Glock on the dresser gleams under the light, fully loaded and ready. Every bullet is a promise, each engraved with his name in your mind. The thought should steel your nerves, but instead, it stirs something else, a dangerous cocktail of anticipation and dread.

The sound of the door opening snaps your focus back to the present.

There he is.

Ghost fills the doorway like a shadow come to life, his presence overwhelming in the small hotel room. The tactical gear hugs his powerful frame, every strap, and buckle a reminder of the lethal man beneath it. He wears no helmet tonight, just his black balaclava, the skull design barely visible under the muted lighting. His weapon is in his hand, silencer attached, the barrel pointed low but still commanding attention.

His dark eyes lock on you immediately, sharp and unyielding.

"Heard you know Makarov's whereabouts," he says, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn't bother with pleasantries, his tone slicing through the air like a blade.

You inhale deeply, steadying yourself. Vulnerability is your weapon now. Tilting your head, you meet his gaze in the mirror. "I might," you reply, the words soft but edged with defiance.

The silence that follows is electric, the kind that makes your pulse race and your skin prickle. He takes one step forward, just enough to close the distance slightly, and the room seems to shrink around him.

"Five minutes." His jaw tightens beneath the mask, the slight movement enough to hint at his frustration.

Your lips curve into a faint smile, a calculated expression meant to taunt. "So impatient, Mr. Riley." You turn away from him, reaching for the ribbons of your corset. "Do you mind?"

Your fingers work the laces deliberately slowly, tugging just enough to feign difficulty. You catch his reflection in the mirror as you twist back toward him. He hasn't moved, but his eyes burn with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

"I thought you'd be a gentleman," you tease, your voice dipping as you tug again. The corset bites into your skin, a slight sting that you welcome. "Considering we're on the same side now."

"Temporarily," he corrects, his tone clipped.

The air thickens, darkens. It's no longer just tension. It's something heavier, something primal. His gaze doesn't waver as he crosses the room, his boots heavy against the floor. Before you can react, his gloved hands brush yours aside, taking hold of the ribbons himself.

The first pull is sharp, precise, and you gasp as the corset cinches tighter around you.

"Not so tight?"

"Three minutes," he interrupts, his voice firm.

You swallow hard, your throat dry as he works his way down the rows. Each tug of the ribbon draws the fabric closer to your body, the pressure both restrictive and intoxicating. His hands move with an efficiency that is almost maddening, his gloved fingers curling the excess ribbon as he reaches the bottom.

Your breath hitches as he gives one final pull, the force of it sending you stumbling backwards. You collide with him, your back pressing into his chest, his arms steadying you instantly.

"You load those bullets with the intention of taking me out?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

Your head tilts slightly, your lips parting as you struggle to find your voice. "Each... and every single one."

His head dips, his masked face hovering near the crook of your neck. The heat of his breath seeps through the fabric, warming your skin in a way that makes you shiver. You feel his lips brush against you, the mask creating a barrier that only heightens the sensation.

"You shouldn't have melted," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

You hated him, despised him, but the thought of being undressed by him, manhandled by him, was too much enticing.

Your hands twitch at your sides, instinct urging you to push him away, but you don't. Instead, you freeze as his hands slide over your waist, his grip firm and unyielding. He pulls you closer, his body flush against yours as he begins to move.

"This could be us," he says, his hips shifting against yours in slow, deliberate motions.

Your breath hitches, your head falling back slightly to rest against his shoulder. The words you want to say catch in your throat, silenced by the overwhelming heat of him.

"You can't even speak," he taunts, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I'm not even inside you."

Your nails dig into his forearms as his pace quickens, his movements both calculated and maddening. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, your skin damp with a heat that has nothing to do with the room's temperature.

He groans softly, the sound vibrating through you as his lips trail lower, teasing the edge of your collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the moment into him.

Your lips part, a faint moan escaping before you can stop it, and his grip tightens. For a moment, you forget everything, the mission, the danger, the hatred you're supposed to feel. In his arms, you feel small, delicate, and undeniably feminine.

But Ghost is nothing if not unpredictable.

Suddenly, he releases you, stepping back and leaving you swaying on unsteady feet. Your palm shoots out to the mirror for support, your reflection flushed and breathless, a stark contrast to the composed woman you'd been minutes ago.

"Lie to me," he says, his voice sharp as a blade, "and it'll be the last game you play."

The door closes behind him with a resounding click, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence.

The derelict warehouse looms in oppressive silence, the air thick with the stench of rust and decay. You slip inside through a broken window, your boots crunching against shattered glass. The Glock in your hand feels heavier than usual, your grip tightening as you scan the darkened space.

He's here. You can feel him.

The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the broken roof illuminates a maze of abandoned machinery and forgotten crates. Somewhere in the darkness, Simon waits. Your chest tightens at the thought, but you push it down. Fear is a luxury you can't afford.

"Running late, love?" His voice rings out from the shadows, deep and taunting.

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. He's close, too close. Slowly, you turn toward the sound, your Glock raised and ready.

"I was starting to think you'd stood me up," he continues, stepping into the faint light. His frame absorbs the room, all sharp edges, and deadly calm. The skull mask covers his face, but his eyes burn through the gloom, locked on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Wishful thinking, Riley," you bite out, keeping your weapon trained on him.

He tilts his head, his posture relaxed but dangerous. "That's not the tone of someone who needs me, darling. And you do, don't you? For Makarov."

Your lip curls, but you don't lower the Glock. "Give me the location, and I'll be out of your way."

"Funny." He takes a step closer, the sound of his boots echoing in the cavernous space. "I was about to say the same to you."

The tension snaps taut as a wire, your breathing shallow as you prepare for what's coming. You know him too well-he won't give up Makarov without a fight.

And neither will you.

The first shot rings out, the sound deafening in the stillness. You fire, but he moves like a shadow, dodging behind a pillar. You curse under your breath, pivoting to track his movements.

"Come on, love," his voice calls out, mocking. "You can do better than that."

You dart behind a stack of crates, your pulse pounding in your ears. He's toying with you, drawing you into his web. But you're not some helpless prey. Not tonight.

You move silently, circling the room as you search for an opening. The Glock feels cold in your hand, a steady weight grounding you. And then, you see him, a flash of black against the moonlight.

You fire again, the shot sparking off metal as he dives to the side. He's fast, but so are you.

The next moment, he's on you, his body a force of nature as he knocks the gun from your hand. It clatters to the ground, and you lunge for it, but he grabs your wrist, twisting it until you gasp.

"Still think you can win?" he growls, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You don't answer. Instead, you twist sharply, breaking his grip as you reach for the knife strapped to your thigh. The blade gleams as you slash at him, forcing him to step back.

His laughter is dark, almost amused. "That's more like it."

The fight becomes a deadly dance, the blade flashing between you as you trade blows. He's stronger, but you're faster, your movements fueled by adrenaline and sheer will.

You manage to land a hit, the knife grazing his arm. He hisses, but it only seems to fuel him, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer.

"Is that all you've got?" he taunts, his voice thick with challenge.

"Not even close," you snap, slashing again.

But he's ready this time, catching your wrist and twisting it until the knife falls from your hand. You struggle against him, your body pressed against his.

Your body twisted to face him, but before you could react, his hand clamped onto your throat, slamming you back against the cold concrete wall. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, the pressure of his grip just shy of crushing.

"Game over," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

Your eyes burn with defiance.

"Simon," you choked out, your eyes wide with disbelief.

His dark eyes glinted through the mask, unreadable yet charged with something primal. He was close, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the rough texture of his gloves brushing against your skin. His free hand moved to his back, drawing a blade with a deliberate, almost sensual slowness.

"You lied," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

The cold kiss of the blade met your abdomen, the sharp tip pressing just enough to break the skin. Your breath hitched, your body stiffening against him.

"Simon," you whispered again, this time softer, pleading.

His masked face tilted, his gaze devouring your desperation. Then, with a sudden, calculated thrust, he drove the knife into your flesh. Your gasp was sharp, cutting through the air like a scream strangled in its infancy.

Your hands instinctively flew to his chest, weakly pushing against him, but he didn't budge. His gloved hand gripped the knife's hilt, and he twisted it, slow and deliberate. Your cry turned into a whimper, your body arching against him, helpless and fragile.

Your vision blurred as the pain consumed you, your breaths shallow and quick. Yet in your fading consciousness, you felt the way his body stiffened, his breaths growing heavier. The act wasn't just an execution; it was something darker, something intimate.

Your trembling hands found his wrist, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor in the storm of agony. Blood pooled between you, warm and sticky, staining the space where your bodies met.

Your head lolled onto his shoulder, your lips parting to speak, but no words came. You shuddered, your body going weak.

As your strength ebbed, your knees gave way, but he caught you. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him.

He caught you, cradling you as you tremble in his grip. For a fleeting moment, it felt almost tender. "Shh," he murmurs, almost gentle. "It's over now."

You cling to the last threads of consciousness, your vision blurring as you look up at him. His eyes, cold and unrelenting, are the last thing you see before the darkness takes you.

Your final breath escaped as a soft sigh as your body went limp in his arms.

And as your body goes still, his voice echoes softly in the empty room.

"Game over, love."

For a moment, he remained still, holding your lifeless body against him. The blood beneath you was warm. It's a metallic scent filling the air. Slowly, he pulled out the knife from your abdomen, his movements almost reverent.

As he stood, he placed your body gently on the ground, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression. The fight was over, but the war within him had just started.

[puff0o0]

Nikto was never one to think about love or a future with someone.

The torture of being captured and what they did to him, scarring and mutilating his face and self image, ruining relationships and friendships because people were disgusted by his scars and pain.

The agony and suffering they gave him, the scars on his mind and tainted memories filled with hatred and rage.

They took away everything and left him with nothing

He lived many years alone, never bothering to get to know people as he knew there was no point. His teammates were only teammates and he made sure it stayed that way.

It was hard to trust someone.

Anyone could do what they did to him again and again, anyone could hurt him.

Anyone could use him or kill him.

No one was ever there for him and he didn't expect there to ever be a special someone to be there

But you

Oh, precious you

Somehow managed to worm your way into his heart and he hated it. He didn't want to get close to you, he couldn't. The thought that you may be disgusted or ashamed ruined everything for him.

He was a soldier, he shouldn't care what others think.

And yet you were the most important person to him.

He was a gentle giant with you and he didn't even realize it.

With others he was cold and distant, never talking much and if he did his voice was gruff and monotone. He was a horrifying figure on the battlefield, one that many enemies of his feared to come across.

His own teammates were afraid of him.

But with you, he was quiet, listening to every word that left your lips and soaking the information in his brain. He wanted to know every little thing about you, he needed to.

You were someone who gave him a warm feeling, a hopeful and tender care he hadn't received in so so long

He had to protect you, care for you, love you

His body and heart didn't give him a choice

He enjoyed holding your hands, feeling the warmth radiate off of them and onto him. He never did it often, fearing he may get used to the feeling and let it consume him and make him weak

He enjoyed talking to you, hearing your voice like a melody floating around the air and letting his ears be the blessed one to hear it. His brain absorbed every word and didn't let a single ounce out.

He enjoyed you.

[josephquinnswhore]

it ain’t weakness, baby - joel miller x female reader

Summary: Joel survived Abby’s brutal encounter, but has left him with major mental and physical disabilities.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: mentions of reader having ptsd, blood, amputation, scars, disabilities, murder. blowjob, Joel whining and begging????? cumming in mouth. female masterbation/orgasm. Joel praising reader. insecurity. Joel treating reader like shit. implied age gap.

Note: yeah.. I kinda ruined my own heart with this one.. anyway, enjoy!

Things weren’t the same. They’ll never be the same. That’s what Joel said, over and over. Saying anything he could in order to push you away, to try and build back the wall between you that you’d seamlessly picked away at.. brick by brick all them years ago.

His old age wasn’t his hinderance. His physical disability wasn’t his hindrance. Though, these were his painful claims, that he couldn’t bare to see your youth wasted on someone like him. A no good—worthless old cripple. That’s what he called himself..

“You’re wasting the best years of your life on me! There are plenty of healthy and capable men that could take care of you here! Just.. just go and find someone else!” He’d spat through gritted teeth, his insecurity gnawing at his insides after he saw a younger man offering your hand at the Christmas dance.

Joel Miller had sunken into the dark and ever falling abyss of self destruction and isolation, daring to say cruel things to you, to push you away.

He’ll never admit it’s the last thing he truly wanted, in fact he was terrified of the thought of you leaving.

One day he found out what you did.

“Tell me you’re not that stupid.” He insults, glaring at you from the recliner he’d come so attached to.

“I did. Tommy and Ellie and I, we fucking did it Joel. They’re dead, all of them, we made them suffer. I made her suffer before I buried her sorry ass for ever touching you!” The argument was bound to get heated, after all, they were talking about the girl that mutilated Joel and left him disabled.

“Do you realise what she could’ve done to you? Look at what she did to me!” He snarled. “Goddamn fools the lot of you!”

He didn’t want you to leave, to stop fighting for him. But he convinced himself he was worthless. He saw it; the looks people gave him, sympathy strewn on their faces. Sympathy he didn’t need. He was fine.

It was the irony of it all. He told himself he was fine, he didn’t need help, he could somehow maintain some semblance of control and independence. No matter the wheelchair, or the crutches. Yet, he would snarl and snap at you, unwilling to keep you close. He would angrily claim he was worthless, useless.

“I can do it!” He growls, shrugging off your hand from the metal crutches, his first time using them as a result of his amputated leg. Refusing any help, as he had done every single day for the past few months.

Perhaps at one point, you did grow tired of it. Of his inability to try. After months of trying and limited resources, you’d tried to teach Joel how to write again, how to play guitar, how to sculpt, how to fix.

“Baby come on, please! Just try again for me. Five more minutes then I promise we can stop.” You pleaded, and were met with a dismissive snarl.

“I ain’t no damn kid so stop treating me like one. I’m done with this!” The pen was sent flying, ink splattering all over his favourite journal, which you’d spent a few hours delicately cleaning to save the important book.

You were trying to get him to live. To have the independence he so desperately craved, but he was stubborn, always had been. He was his own worst enemy.

You were even kind enough to take the only spare time you had, to build him a wheelchair accessible ramp, it was weeks worth of labour, and trading a tonne of sentimental personal items to trade for the wood and nails. Yet, it remains unused, even now, as it rains and the snow coats the wood, they begin to rot and wither. All your hard work and dedication to your husband had gone completely unnoticed.

Yet, for some reason, you never quit on him.

“Stop scowlin at me like that and just try, would you?”

He grunted, his hand trembled, the majority of his soup fell off the spoon. With whatever strength he had, he tossed the spoon onto the floor, as it clattered along the wood, it sends soup flying all up the wall. The bowl soon clatters to the ground before you can catch it.

The bowl was heavy, and the sound of it on the hardwood floors sent your movements to a halt—frozen. Your ears ringing as if it were that forsaken shotgun again, tearing a hole through Joel’s leg, flesh and blood splattering against the carpet rug and the floor. Stumbling, you take a moment to yourself, rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen.

The noise over and over replaying in your mind, the golf club coming down on Joel’s head, sure you would witness the love of her life being brutally murdered in front of your eyes. What Joel didn’t know, as far as he assumed, that you had these triggers as a result of ptsd.

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen becomes unbearable and you find yourself back in the living room.

Waiting for you, is another mess of his you’d have to clean.

“It feels like you’re not even trying anymore Joel. It’s been months—why can’t you see I’m trying to help you!” You insist.

“I don’t need your help!” He growled bitterly.

“So you’re just going to sit in that stupid fucking chair till you die huh? Is that it?” Finally reaching the breaking point after your recent trigger, tears cascade down your red cheeks.

His scowl softened, into a look she hadn’t seen since the incident happened. He battles his ego and his stubbornness to finally reach a hand out to you, his shaking fingers just graze your own.

“Baby—you know I don’t mean it.” He murmurs hopelessly. “I’m—I’m sorry. I appreciate you tryin’.”

The atmosphere changes in the air, the winter suddenly doesn’t feel so harsh, and the breeze that slides through the crack in the window frame can’t be felt over the warmth of the heater that Joel nests by.

You kneels down onto the floor, taking his trembling hand. “I’m not giving up on you. When we took our marriage vows I fucking meant them. Just let me be here for you. It’s killing me that you’re trying to push us apart. Please.”

For some reason, your plea pierced his old heart with such reverence that he doesn’t argue, he relaxes his tense shoulders and murmurs, “okay.”

Finally, acceptance, peace. The white flag was being waved. Seventy two days of fighting was finally over.

“Shouldn’t be.. on your knees like that baby. You—you’ll get sick.” The worry in his voice had another kind of anxiety behind it.

One that you soon found the reasoning of.. his cock.. stiffer in his pants than you’d seen it in months. “Don’t tell me you’ve been suffering all this time.” You gasp in disbelief.

His aimless gaze and silence was enough to confirm the accusation. He’d been so sexually frustrated.. that he hadn’t been able to cum.

“This is why you’ve been so upset.” You murmurs. “Isn’t it?”

He answers with a simple and shameful nod, you press a kiss to his hand, ready to offer him a solution. “Can.. Can I help you?”

The question takes him off guard, his thick and greying eyebrows meet together in a low frown.

“Why would you want to touch me? I’m .. I’m a goddamn freak—“

“You shut up and let me decide what I see you as Joel Miller.” You scold. “I see someone strong, brave, handsome.”

He scoffs, but it doesn’t deter you. Instead it only motivates you more. Leaning up against the recliner, your chest on the left side meets the fabric, where his leg had to be amputated from the thigh downward, due to the inflicted shotgun wound.

“I see a man so incredibly capable, of living, thriving. Needing help doesn’t make you weak, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His trembling hands struggle to unclasp the stubborn button on his jeans. “Hey, just let me look after you baby. Relax.” You insist softly.

Making quick work of his button and zipper, your cool and small hands make his cock look enormous as it springs out of his jeans, rock hard. Has it always been this big? Perhaps the illusion of deprivation has her mind as desperate as her dripping cunt. Even your mouth begins to salivate, gulping as you come eye level with the small clear bead of precum.

Without warning, you lurch forward, pressing a small kiss to the red and aching tip, before swirling your tongue around the bulbous head.

“Ah, ah fuck baby,” he whines, sharply inhaling a breath, his good hand moves to grip the back of your head, begging for you to swallow him.

His desperate pleas only serve the purpose of rilling you up, with the gentle touch of his fingertips in your hair, desperately clutching at a fistful of your hair..

Opening your mouth wider to fit his enormous girth, halfway down and you’re already gagging. He whimpers, sounding the most vulnerable she’s heard since their last intimate encounter. Sneakily, you slide a hand down to your entrance, sliding your fingers inside to collect some of the slick before, sliding them upwards towards your enlarged and throbbing clit. whine is muffled by his cock.

You push on, feeling the mushroom tip sliding down your throat as you gag, covering his cock in your warm and sticky saliva. His untamed coarse public hairs tickle your nose.

The noises were absolutely despicable and lewd, the way you took the whole length of him, gagging at every descend, it was a sensation that had him trembling underneath you. His trembling hand attempts to clutch the arm of the recliner.

“Baby, baby stop.” He begged. “Not.. I’m not gonna last.” His breath quickens and as he tensed up, you take his length out of your mouth, but he quickly thrusts back into it, craving the warmth and the pleasure of the hole.

“Don’t stop, hmph please don’t stop.” He pleaded in a whine, Joel Miller, begging you.

You felt your stomach tightening, the pleasure of your fingers on your soaking clit, swirling at the perfect pace and Joel’s soft voice begging. You moan around his cock as your legs tremble underneath you.

Joel finally catches on and it’s the last straw for him before he throws his head back onto the recliner and grunts, the growl that leaves his lips is primal and comes from his throat. “Fuck—such a good girl.” He stutters and thrusts his hips upward, filling your mouth and throat with him, sending his ropes of warm cum straight down your throat, you drink, like it’s the last source of energy you’ll ever receive.

His hand unclenches from your hair as he feels himself shrinking inside of your mouth, encouraging you to look up at him, and you do. You’re met with Joel, looking at you with all the love and adoration and affection you deserve.

“Come here baby.” He murmurs, his thumb caresses your cheek as you look up at him. Climbing up onto his lap, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Could.. could you please pull the recliner back?” His voice escapes timidly. Here he was, asking for your help; finally.

With a swift movement, you pull on the latch on the side of the recliner and the bottom end swings upward, now you’re both laying, your hand reaches for a warm blanket on the nearby couch, and toss it over the two of you.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.” The world circle in her ears, and she runs her thumb over the large scar on his forehead that spans to his temple and eyebrow. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it.”

“I love you, Mrs Miller.” Is the last thing your happy heart hears before your eyes flutter, peace and pleasure lulling you into a dream.