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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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Looked to the Sky - Chapter 10

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Eira has a shiny new spine, Azriel threatens to murder and the shadows keep torturing Elaine's floral arrangements and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“And if something happens…”

“We do know how to contact you,” Mor drawled drily from her seat on the couch. “Velaris will still be standing when you return, High Lord,” she told Rhys sarcastically. Az bit back a smile while Amren huffed.

"And you're alright with taking care of Nyx?" Feyre checked carefully. It was already dangerous enough for the High Lord, the High Lady, the General and the Spymaster to be out of the Night Court at the same time. There was no need to add the Heir to the Night Court to it as well.

Mor rolled her eyes. "He'll be alive and happy when you return," she promised Feyre.

Rhys sighed as he watched Feyre fuss over Nyx, who was sitting on the ground beside her, playing with what looked like a stuffed toy of some sort. A bat, now that he was looking at it with more interest.

He wondered where exactly he had gotten that from for a moment.

"He’ll be in good hands, love," Rhys assured Feyre, walking over to place his hands on her shoulders.

"And don't give her too much milk!" Azriel heard his mate exclaim, fussing about the little kitten that followed behind Eira everywhere. Snow, or Snowflake, as Eira had christened her, would stay with Cerridwen and Nuala...and Eira was fussy about it. Had been for days.

Azriel had more than once been jealous of a damn cat because it got all of Eira’s attention. And then he looked at Eira smiling at her, at playing with her with a ribbon, at how she coaxed her to eat little pieces of chicken from her hands, and scratched her underneath her chin, all of this with that expression on her face that told him that she was incandescently happy and he wasn’t jealous anymore. Eira loved her. How could he be jealous of that?

Eira appeared just a moment later, Snow still wrapped in her arms. She was clad in a green coat over a cream dress…if one could call it a coat? Azriel had absolutely no clue about fashion but it was a weird coat. It only had three-quarter-length sleeves and the neckline was open, with a shawl collar that bared her clavicle...and right there rested a necklace featuring fat emeralds that he knew the shadows had given her.

His shadows twined around her, whispering their approval for how pretty she looked, and he couldn’t disagree.

Eira was… She was stunning. She always was, of course. But that simple - yet still lovely - dress, the necklace, and her hair that was pinned up carefully with combs in it...Perfect.

He took her in, the slender, elegant lines of her figure in the dress, the dark gold strands of her hair in the elaborate braided hairstyle that revealed her lovely neck, and those blue-grey eyes that met his as a blush stained her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

"Where did you get that necklace from?" Amren suddenly demanded, staring at the necklace resting around Eira's throat with hungry eyes that made not only Azriel's brows raise.

Eira froze, and her fingers moved up to the emeralds that sat against her skin.

"The...?" she stumbled over her words a little bit, her glance shifting nervously between him, Amren, and Mor and Feyre, who had both also turned to look. "I...the Shadows got it for me," she said quietly, her cheeks darkening further.

What is this about? he demanded from the shadows, which seemed to nearly preen with something.

The Tiny Ancient One wanted it. We bought it first, they answered drily. Petty. So Petty.

He had to bite his lip to avoid snickering.

Of course, the Shadows had stolen something Amren had wanted from right under her nose. Of course, they had.

She still hasn’t apologised to her, the shadows sniped. It’s her own fault.

True. Amren was back in the city because Rhys would prefer his second and third to be there, but that came with strict instructions. Azriel wasn’t quite sure what exactly had been said, but the shadows had promised him that The High Lord had been more than clear with Amren.

A little mrrrrp from Snowflake in her arms brought attention down to the kitten, and Azriel reached out to fondly stroke the little ball of fluff. Eira giggled as Snowflake leaned into his touch, pressing her face against his fingers and continuing to purr.

"She likes you," Eira said with a little smile, watching the little cat with fondness.

"I think the feeling is mutual," Az murmured quietly, as he gently scratched Snowflake's head, and she just continued to press against his hands for more. Another mrrrp escaped the little cat, and Eira giggled a little.

"There we are!" Cassian exclaimed at that moment, Nesta trailed behind him. "I hope Helion still knows how to throw a party!"

"Or how to host one at least," Azriel grumbled under his breath, as he withdrew his hand from Snowflake's head. Rhys chuckled at the comment, as Feyre rolled her eyes.

Eira next to him stayed quiet, and he could see the nervousness in every line of her body. He offered her his arm and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, as she placed Snow on the ground.

"It will be alright," he promised her. It would be alright. It was only a wedding. Even if that meant facing Elain and he knew how nervous Eira was about that…He wasn’t nervous. He had promised himself an iron-clad grip on his temper. It would not flare. He would not actually kill Elain. Regardless of if he thought she deserved it for what she had done to them. “I’ll be there,” he added after a moment. He wasn’t going to leave her to face her demons alone. Not when she had grown even paler at the thought of facing Elain. Her fingers were gripping his arm almost like a vice.

"Everybody ready?" Rhys asked. "We'll winnow into the Courtyard of Sunray Palace."

A chorus of confirmations met his question, as Azriel placed a little kiss against his mate’s head, while her fingers in the crook of his elbow remained as tight as iron.

“Ready as we’ll ever be, I guess...” Cassian muttered, and Azriel silently agreed.

The shadows wrapped around them, and Azriel took a moment to make sure Eira was wrapped in them as well before they vanished from the River House. And rematerialised in the Day Court.

His first thought was...it was bright.

Very bright.

The brilliant sun was shining overhead, and the courtyard they appeared in was large and lovely, if a bit...showy. Similar to the House of Wind, The Sunray Palace was carved into the stone of a Mountain, that was covered in lush grass. He looked up to see a group of Pegasi fly up to their home in the highest tower.

He turned his head to check on Eira, catching her pale face and the nervous gulp as she took the Palace in, and his worry spiked. She was shaking like a leaf, and her knuckles were white where she clutched his elbow.

And then he watched as her shoulders went back and her chin went up, her jaw clenched nearly imperceptively. "You look lovely by the way," he whispered in her ear, making her blush. "Green suits you. Though I am partial to blue."

The compliment drew a flush of colour to her cheeks, and her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as a little smile appeared on her face.

“Of course, you would say that,” she shot back, the slight tremble in her voice still there. “You’re biased. And don’t try to distract me.”

He chuckled even as he led them forward, the two of them easily slotting into place between Nesta and Cassian, Nesta throwing her younger sister a look. Azriel could read the worry into it but he shook his head nearly imperceptively. Eira was doing well. Better than he thought she would at any rate.

Eira still looked nervous. Extremely nervous. Her hand still had a death grip on his arm, and she was walking stiffly beside him, and yet...she still had her chin lifted high, her eyes forward. He had to admire the courage she was putting on.

The doors to the Palace suddenly opened, and Helion stepped out, grinning brilliantly. “Well, well, well, you all are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice drawling out the syllables in that typical Day Court fashion.

“Don’t you know it, High Lord,” Cassian replied in his usual easy, charming tone, and Helion chuckled as his gaze travelled over the group with a smirk. Suddenly the smirk faltered as his gaze landed on Eira and the shadows wrapped around her.

His eyes widened, and Azriel didn't know what this was about before Helion continued. "We prepared rooms for you all. Why don't you arrive properly and then we'll have lunch?"

The suggestion was casual, but Azriel still thought that Helion's gaze remained on the way the shadows swirled up her body. It did result in the shadows hissing

"Thank you," Rhys drawled, easily matching the Day Court High Lord's tone. "We'll do that, and we'll see you for lunch."

The High Lord nodded, and retreated back into the Palace, while the group headed in the same direction.

When he glanced at Eira again, her face was paler than before, her hands trembling even more.

"Breathe, love," he whispered to her quietly, his voice soft, hoping it would soothe her a little bit. She gave him a weak nod in response, and he could see her forcing herself to take a shaky breath in. Azriel didn't know entirely what was going through her head, but he had the feeling it was not a happy thought, by any means.

They were shown to their suite of rooms, arranged around a shared living room, and he led her to a marigold yellow sofa. She collapsed like somebody cut the strings holding her up.

He had half a mind to curse, but her paler face, the trembling hands, stopped him. Instead, he carefully lowered himself down onto the sofa beside her, pulling her onto his lap without a second thought, and wrapped her in the shadows around them.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he repeated, as one of his hands stroked gently up and down her back, while the other cupped her cheek.

She leaned against his touch willingly, as another shudder wracked her frame.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whimpered.

His heart wrenched in his chest at the tremble in her voice. "There's nothing wrong with you, love," he assured her quietly. "Nothing at all. You are nervous to face Elain. That's alright."

She sighed softly, but relaxed against him, bedding her head against his shoulder.

"Looking awfully comfy there," Cassian drawled and her cheeks flushed scarlet. She moved to get off his lap but Azriel held her in place gently until she stilled.

He wrapped his arm a little bit tighter around her, keeping her from getting off his lap, as he shot Cassian a quick glare, while the hand rubbing her back continued the slow and gentle motion.

He could almost hear the Shadows whispering their own displeasure at Cassian in the back of his mind. Azriel could hear a sharp smack and he just knew that it must have been Nesta.

He turned his head to send a glare in Cassian's direction, as the Shadows snickered in his mind.

"Sorry, I am sorry, Eira" Cassian hurried to add, as Feyre stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Eira said nothing, just curled tighter against him, resting her temple against his shoulder.

"We got three bedrooms, not four," Rhys said with a sigh, apparently having surveyed the rooms in the meantime. "They clearly expected Azriel and Eira to share a room.”

Azriel wondered if that was on purpose. If that was Elain’s doing. Her attempt at making Eira uncomfortable. Eira, the one of the sisters that kept the most to human ideals of modesty, that blushed if he as much as kissed her cheek…that only kissed him when they were alone. And even then it were quick pecks against his lips.

Not that he would ever protest against one of Eira’s kisses. He wanted to hoard each touch of her plush, soft lips against his like a dragon hoarded its treasure.

But now he could feel Eira's body stiffen in his lap once more, and he glanced down at her. She was very pale again, her fingers trembling where they were wrapped around his jacket. He wanted to smack his head against the nearest wall, or at least something, but he refrained from doing that, and instead just pulled her further against his chest with a quiet huff.

"Their error," Nesta said drily. "Eira and I will share."

The Shadows were practically sulking in his head.

He shut them up with a growl.

Even when he wouldn’t have laid a single finger on Eira if they did share a bed, that clearly was a step too far for her. It would have made her uncomfortable. And he wasn’t going to push her. Not ever.

He had never asked, but there didn’t seem to be any human suitors in her past. Kissing seemed foreign to her, making her nervous and excited, her heartbeat quickening and she stared at him with this expression of wonder on her face.

"Alright, that works as well," Feyre agreed, and Azriel silently echoed that.

He could feel how tense Eira still was in his lap, though. Still trembling nervously under his touch. He continued to rub her back slowly, still trying to soothe her.

“Cassian can share with Azriel,” Nesta declared.

“Oh come on,” Cassian muttered.

The Shadows muttered their displeasure as well.

Azriel rolled his eyes, his fingers still rubbing her back soothingly.

"You're a grown male, Cassian," he said, his voice dry. "I'm sure you'll live."

A huff from the General, and Azriel just rolled his eyes again, his glance down to his mate again.

She still looked quite pale. The hand on her back continued the gentle rubbing.

"Interesting that it wasn't Elain and Lucien that greeted us," Feyre said drily. "Given that it's their wedding we are supposed to attend."

"Very interesting," Rhys agreed, as Azriel continued to eye Eira in his lap.

She was still tense against him, still pale, still trembling a little bit. Her nervousness and fear were rolling in waves towards him, through the bond.

"Elain will be at the lunch, no doubt," Feyre said, and Rhys just hummed in agreement.

The Shadows continued to whisper angrily in his mind, upset at the way their Mate was feeling.

"Or maybe Elain is terrified of what the shadows will do to her now," Nesta quipped darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but smirk a little bit at that.

He could practically hear the Shadows preen. Cassian let out a bark of laughter, and Feyre tried to hold hers back, while Rhys tried to keep a serious expression.

You'll behave, he told them sternly.

Maybe , they hissed back, though they were still clearly preening over the compliment.

He rolled his eyes and glanced down at Eira again.

I mean it. You will behave. You do not attack her, he reiterated in his head.

A few displeased mutterings echoed in his head, but they did quiet down. He refrained from rolling his eyes this time, and his glance went back to the female in his lap. She was no longer pale, the tremors and shakes having died down, and while she was still nervous, she now appeared relaxed. At least a little bit.

"Let's get changed for Lunch," Nesta said easily.

"You literally just put on a dress before we arrived here," Cassian said with a snort.

"You don't need to understand females, Cassian," Rhys said easily. "Just deal with it."

Cassian grumbled, as Feyre stifled another laugh and Azriel held in a snicker.

Nesta held out her hand for Eira, who took it and let her sister pull her to her feet, giving him a small smile and his hand a squeeze before they, together with Feyre, disappeared into one bedroom.

He watched her go, a strange feeling of loss creeping up once she was out of his sight.

Azriel was tempted, so tempted to get up and go after her, pull her back onto the sofa, onto his lap, into his arms, but he managed to stop himself from doing so.

He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa, and a long sigh escaped him.

"You're absolutely besotted." His head snapped up to see Rhys staring at him, his violet eyes sparkling with smug amusement. The Shadows immediately hissed in agreement his mind at Rhys' observation.

"Shut up," Azriel just grumbled.

Rhys smirked at him in response, and Cassian just laughed. "Whatever you do tonight, if your shadows start sweetly caressing me like they do to Eira, I'll scream," Cassian muttered.

"That won't happen," Azriel immediately shot back, the words practically hissed through his teeth.

At the same time, the Shadows muttered their own disapproval of that possibility. Only our Mate, they whispered.

Cassian just rolled his eyes.

"Do you think she'll manage?" Cassian asked, growing serious. "She seems awfully...nervous."

A heavy sigh escaped him, as he sat up straighter in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She...is very nervous. But she's trying not to be. She's trying to stay brave."

"And you?" Rhys asked quietly. "How are you holding up?"

He took a deep breath, contemplating the question.

He was angry. Furious. Worried about his mate, his heart clenching every time he felt her distress through the bond.

But he had to stay strong. For her. He needed to keep it together.

"I..." he mumbled, his voice faltering. He had to pause for a moment to collect himself. "I'm hanging in there."

Silence followed his admission, and Cassian and Rhys were studying him. He knew his friends could see through his facade, knew that they knew how worried he was. His face must have given all away.

"You have every right to be angry," Rhys said quietly. "I don't know what I would do in your place."

"What I want to do is to take her home," he admitted, his voice quiet and gruff, his eyes fixed on his lap, where he was clenching his hands into fists. "I want to take her home. I don't want her here. I don't want her to face Elain. Hell, I don't even want her to meet Elain at all. I..." He took a shuddering breath. "But she needs this. She needs this closure. I think Eira knows that herself."

Another heavy sigh escaped him, as he lifted his head and met Rhys' eyes.

"I just hate...seeing her so scared. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to feel frightened and scared because of...Elain," he said, bitterness seeping into his voice as he said her name.

"What did she see?" Cassian said suddenly. "Elain had a vision of you and Eira and worked to make sure it wouldn't come to pass. But what did she see?"

"Cass..." Rhys said carefully, but Azriel shook his head. It was alright.

"She saw...She saw Eira and a little girl in a garden. A little girl with her hair and freckles and my wings and eyes. She saw me coming home to them...picking up our daughter and kissing Eira...they saw my hand on her swollen belly...another child in her womb. She saw our children Cassian." There was a heavy pause after Azriel's words.

Cassian just stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, while Rhys' mouth was set into a thin-lipped grave line.

His voice had started shaking a little bit, towards the middle of his story, and he clenched his jaw against the emotions building in his chest.

"That you didn't outright kill her is a fucking miracle," Cassian seethed.

"I damn near came close," Azriel muttered darkly, while anger coursed through his veins.

His jaw was set, his hands were clenching and unclenching almost of their own accord, while the Shadows kept muttering angrily in the back of his mind. They were furious, furious that their Mate was distressed.

"Why did she do it?" Cassian demanded. "Because she is the prettier one? Because if she couldn't have Azriel, Eira shouldn't have him either? Because of jealousy ?!"

"Jealousy and spite," Azriel said darkly. "That's what it comes down to. Jealousy and spite ."

He wanted to break something. Preferably Elain. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze.

He took a shuddering breath to collect himself, as he felt himself slowly losing control of his temper.

But he needed to stay in control. He had to. He wasn't going to explode, not in front of Cassian and Rhys, and certainly not in front of Eira.

"I...hate...her," he bit out, his voice strangled, as his hands clenched and unclenched, even as he tried to keep control over his temper. "I hate her so much. Hell, I want to destroy the very thought of her. I...I want to make sure she can never hurt Eira again. And if it's the last thing I damn well do," he continued, and his voice was venomous. "She. Will. Never. Lay one finger on my mate ever again."

"And I'll make her suffer," he snarled, his voice almost a growl. "By the Mother, I won't just kill her. I'll make her suffer first. For what she did to Eira. For what she did to us. For the thought of that future that she denied me. I will make her pay."

A strangled breath escaped him, his lungs straining with the effort of keeping himself from going on a rampage right then and there.

He closed his eyes, and took a long shuddering breath, as fury continued to course through his veins, while the Shadows hissed and whispered in his mind, their mutterings murderous in nature.

He let out a shuddering breath, as he tried to will his raging temper to abate. He needed to calm down. He needed to, for Eira. She was nervous enough as it was. He couldn't go to her like this. He...He wouldn't do it. He refused to upset her further.

He kept his eyes closed, as he tried to force his emotions to a simmering rage.

Another shuddering breath escaped him, as it took all his strength to calm down. He forced the tension from his body, slowly loosening his clenched jaw. His hands were still clenched into tight fists, but he continued to just breathe deeply, willing his temper to die down.

It felt like an eternity before he finally felt in control of his own emotions again.

He opened his eyes again and met Rhys and Cassian's stares.

Neither of them said anything, silently watching him, and he leaned back against the sofa with a sigh.

"I'm alright," he said and was slightly surprised that his voice was steady, even if he still felt like he was full of rage. "I'm fine. I'm alright," he repeated, and it was more of a reminder to himself than anything else.

"You need to not react like that when you see her," Rhys said quietly, and Azriel couldn't tell if it was a warning or a mere observation.

"I know that," he said between clenched teeth. "I know that, Rhys. But I have every right to be furious. Hell, I have every right to rip her apart."

"You do," Rhys agreed quietly. "But it won't do anyone any favours if you get like this when you see her. You need to keep your temper in check. For Eira ."

***

Eira was staring at her reflection in the mirror, struggling to recognise the person looking back at her.

Her eyes were wide and anxious, her breathing quick and nervous, and her hands were trembling. A part of her was wondering how she was even managing to stand at the moment, seeing how her legs felt like they were close to giving in underneath her.

But she was also...she was also dressed in a tissue-thin gown out of pleated silk in a lavender colour, cinched in around the waist by an embroidered ribbon she had made. Her hair was pulled back from her face, diamond encrusted haircombs that she had no clue from where these had come from fastened in her hair...( One day she would need to actually get the shadows to stop buying her things. ), a diamond bracelet tightened around her wrist…They had even clipped earrings to her lobes, diamonds as well, dangly and pretty and in the Human Lads would be considered to be too much for a simple luncheon.

But here in Prythian, the shadows didn’t seem to think twice about it, to wrap her in more diamonds than most people had ever even seen in the same place.

Once they judged her ready, a tendril of shadows curled itself back around her wrist, while another picked up the small train of her dress.

"You know, I am kinda jealous. You have a handmaiden wherever you are," Feyre said drily.

Eira let out an embarrassed little laugh, the sound shaky and weak as her heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of her chest.

"They are...very helpful," she admitted, as she gave a small, nervous glance to Feyre.

Nesta finished pinning her own hair into her usual coronet, smoothing the blue-green fabric of her dress. "You do not need to accept her apology," her eldest sister said fiercely. "Remember that, Eira."

She swallowed, the familiar nervous butterflies back in her stomach, and she gave a shaky nod.

Feyre placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as she gave her a gentle squeeze. It was a little steadying and helped quell some of her anxiousness, even as the nervous tremors continued to wrack through her body.

"I...know," she said quietly.

Right. There went nothing.

She took a few more, long, deep breaths, to calm her nerves.

She was going to be alright. She was going to be just...fine.

You're going to be fine, she repeated to herself as she squared her shoulders.

Azriel was waiting for her as she left the bedroom, in a quiet conversation with Rhys and Cassian. He looked up as soon as he came out, his expression softening.

His eyes widened momentarily as a breath caught in his throat at the sight of her in that dress, and a small smile started spreading across his lips.

"Eira," he said quietly, taking a tentative step towards her. "You...You look beautiful, sweetheart."

She gave a shaky smile, her eyes meeting his as those familiar little butterflies came to life in her belly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering at the affectionate endearment.

"Ready?" Rhys asked.

She exhaled, steadying her breathing, willing her trembling body to not shake.

Eira gave a shaky nod, even as the familiar anxiousness threatened to overwhelm her, and she swallowed past the lump forming in her throat.

"Ready," she whispered.

She just needed...She reached out for Azriel's hand before she could help herself, not caring how inappropriate this was. They weren't married, they weren't even engaged and still, she claimed his hand with hers, threading her fingers through his.

The feeling of scarred skin against her home, grounded her, giving her something to hang onto.

The shadows that kept closer to him than usual, hiding behind the wings he had snapped close to his body, dusted over her arms for just a moment, like they wanted to assure Eira that they were there as well, before returning to their mater, leaving her with a few wrapped around her wrist and another tendril keeping her skirt in place.

For a brief moment, Azriel looked down at where their fingers were woven together, before lifting his head again and giving her fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze. She felt his warmth through his skin, the steady beat of his pulse, and it was comforting...comforting to know that he was right next to her.

She took a few more, deep breaths, the anxiety continuing to flutter in her stomach, but...

But Azriel was here, she reasoned.

Azriel was right there...right next to her, holding her hand...and she could do this. She could get through this. All she had to do was stay close to him.

They were let to a dining room, with high ceilings, beautifully appointed in white and gold.

“I swear I told them to put white jasmine and blush roses in here and not yellow carnations and orange lilies!” she heard her sister’s voice before she saw her.

Seconds later, she got her first glance at her twin sister. Lucien and she made a lovely couple, always had. And Elain did look as utterly beautiful as she always had. Elain had always been extraordinarily lovely, but that hadn't changed in her transformation into a High Fae. Now she was utterly beautiful.

Even when… with a blink Eira realised how harried-looking Elain was, fiddling with the flowers on the table. Her heart clenched at the sight of her, mixed with the swirling, anxious emotions in her stomach, and she couldn't help the shuddering breath that escaped her as they walked into the room.

Azriel's hand clenched around hers.

Her eyes snapped to his. His face was a mask of ice. She had never seen him look ...like that before. Never seen...this tightly controlled murderous rage.

The shadow tightened around her wrist. She wasn't sure if it was in warning, but she didn't care anyway.

He was hers. Hers in every bit of this murderous rage.

They came to a halt, and she felt the way Azriel clenched his jaw as his eyes met with Elain's across the room.

He was furious, she could practically feel the rage simmering under the surface, the only thing keeping him in check was his ironclad control...and the fact that he was holding onto her hand.

She would leave the diplomacy to Feyre and Rhys, the useless pretty words. She didn’t trust herself to say anything that was actually nice. Instead, she tugged Azriel along to find their seats at the table, pasting a smile on her face.

They sat at the table, and Azriel kept a firm hold of her hand, never loosening his grip on her. The shadows kept themselves firmly around her wrist and continued to cling unto her, even as they settled into place at the table.

And a part of her could feel how Azriel was tensed, how he was wound up so tight she was afraid he might snap.

Cassian sat down next to Azriel, with Nesta bracketing Eira's other side, fully ignoring whatever seating arrangement had been put down by the Day Court.

Eira wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly why Cassian had been put there. In the event of Azriel losing his temper, Cassian may had a chance at subduing him. Though she somehow doubted that would actually work.

With them right there, and Azriel holding onto her hand, she felt...steady. She felt secure...secure enough to withstand this dreaded luncheon.

Feyre and Rhys sat down next to Helion, Lucien and Elain, and she could feel the tension in the room.

She could sense Elain's gaze on her, sitting directly across from her. , but didn't dare to meet her eyes as the anxiousness roiled in her stomach, even as Azriel's fingers continued to grasp hers, and one of the shadows curled around her wrist, giving a small, reassuring little squeeze.

"It's so nice that you could make it," Elain said, a smile on her face, masking her nervousness. She was glancing at the shadows that were topping up Eira’s water glass, clearly making a pest out of themselves, to put bread on her plate and drag the butter dish closer to her.

For just one moment Eira wondered if they did that on purpose. Were they trying to scare Elain?

"We wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Feyre said, her voice carefully neutral.

There was a stiffness in the air, palpable enough that it could be cut with a knife, the tension as so thick that one could drown in it, and Eira just sat there, her fingers tightly wrapped around Azriel's hand.

There was a moment of silence, where nobody commented.

And then...her heart hammered against her ribs, her stomach twisting in knots, as those doe-like brown eyes landed directly on her. "You look...good, Eira. Healthy. I hope everything healed well," Elain said sweetly.

Her breath caught in her throat as she fought down the nausea that welled up in her stomach, and she forced a tight smile onto her lips.

"Everything healed up just fine," she said, her voice shaking, only to be steadied by the firm squeeze Azriel gave her hand.

It was the truth. Nothing but a thin white line underneath her left breast. Nobody but her would probably ever see it.

"And the... lightning ?" Lucien wondered. "I hope your cauldron-given gift didn't give you too much trouble," he quipped, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Elain mentioned that you…defended yourself quite well.”

The nausea that welled up in her throat was nearly immediate. Defended herself. She had defended herself. She had also killed 4 males.

"Lightning?" The High Lord of Day asked, sounding fascinated. He was looking at her like she was an exceptionally interesting specimen.

Her stomach roiled, the nausea continuing to grow inside her, as her heart thundered in her chest.

“No,” Eira said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It...It wasn’t too much trouble,” she continued, even as the nausea continued to rise, and she felt like she might retch all over the table.

"She's learning to control it," Rhys said evenly. "She's doing as well as one could expect."

Her heart fluttered at Rhys’ words. He was trying his best to...deflect the attention away from her. Trying to help.

“So she really can generate lightning then?” Helion spoke up, sounding utterly fascinated.

"She can," Rhys confirmed, his voice even. His words were simple, but the tone of them was almost warning, and she could feel Azriel tense even more next to her. And that was enough to pique Helion’s interest.

“Extraordinary,” he said, and he sounded way too fascinated with her wretched blessing.

Her heart skipped a beat, the nausea continuing to grow in her stomach until she feared she might vomit at any moment. Her hand clenched around Azriel's, fingers practically digging into his skin, while the shadows around her wrist squeezed reassuringly. And all the while, she could feel Elain's eyes on her, her stare practically boring into her.

"Do the shadows help control it?" Elain asked hesitantly. Only now, Eira realised that more had come to swarm around her, banding around her midsection and chest, like trailing black ribbons. Their touch was gentle, and soft.

"No," came Azriel's reply, and his voice was so filled with cold fury that she was amazed he could even get the words out.

He was tense, like a coiled spring, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, while the shadows continued to cling to her, continuing to twine around her wrist in a firm, reassuring grip.

"They like touching Eira because she's Azriel's mate," Cassian said, his voice icy. Her heart stuttered in her chest at Cassian's words.

His blunt, to-the-point declaration of her belonging to Azriel...the words had stunned her, and it seemed they had stunned Elain too if the way that she stiffened was any indicative.

"Ah, yes...we should talk about that," Helion said with a sigh. "Elain?"

The tension in the room immediately ratcheted up even more higher, and Eira could feel it, as a chill settled over the room. She was so tense, she was struggling just to breathe, and her hand was trembling where it was held in Azriel’s ironclad grip.

"I am sorry," Elain said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat at her twin sister’s words, her stomach twisting in knots, as her eyes flicked towards her. Elain’s voice was soft but sincere, and her brown eyes were wide and vulnerable, and there were tears in her eyes... Tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"I am sorry, Eira," she said again, her voice trembling. “For...for everything.”

And suddenly...suddenly the fear, the nervousness went away, replaced with ice-cold anger. "You are sorry ," she repeated flatly. Sorry .

The anger in her voice was not missed, and she heard Nesta and Feyre inhale sharply. Elain's eyes widened at the tone in her voice...at the anger in Eira’s words, and she gave a small, shaky nod, her chin trembling slightly.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have tried to keep you and Azriel away from each other. I was...I shouldn't have done that."

Eira clenched her jaw, the anger still boiling in her blood as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze.

"No," she replied, her voice so flat it was as if it was made of ice. "You shouldn’t have done that," she repeated coldly. "But that's not all you did, Elain," she spat out. "You saw that vision. You know what you did." What she had done. Namely, keep Eira's babies from being born .

Her heart lurched in her chest, and she felt Azriel squeeze her hand tightly as if he knew what had been going through her thoughts.

Her throat was tight, and her breathing was laboured, as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze, her eyes cold and furious as she spoke.

"You did a lot more than keeping me away from Azriel',” she hissed.

And the worst part was, her sister didn’t even try to deny what she had done. Didn’t even try to fight back. All she could do was sit there, looking like a wounded puppy, which only fuelled the anger in Eira’s chest.

“You tried to take everything from me,” she hissed again.

"It all worked out!" Elain defended herself. "You and Azriel seem to be..."

She couldn’t be serious, could she?

It all worked out?

It all worked out?!?

"It is not all ‘worked out’!" she snapped, her voice cracking as she fought back a frustrated scream bubbling in her chest. "You tried to take everything from me!" she repeated, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. The tears weren't for her.

The tears were for her babies.

The anger ratcheted in her chest and she could feel the lightning underneath her skin, begging to be released. Begging for her to let go of her grip on it and let it find its target. Let it find Elain. Let it hit her.

She clenched her jaw, forcing that feeling down, as she met her sister’s eyes with a cold glare. "You tried to take my children from me," she hissed at Elain. " My children. "

The temperature in the room seemed to drop to below freezing, and she could feel Nesta and Feyre’s gazes on her. She didn’t care though. Her eyes were entirely focused on her twin, and the words had come out in a deadly hiss, the anger steaming out of her in waves.

"You tried to take our babies ," she repeated, her words cracking again as she spoke.

She felt Azriel’s grip on her hand tighten even more, the shadows clinging to her wrist once more, as if trying to both keep her grounded and hold her back.

And it was the only thing keeping her from lunging across the table and grabbing her sister by the throat.

Her skin was itchy, that strange, foreign energy writhing underneath the surface, and she fought to keep it reined in, to keep it from escaping, even as the room went silent, the tension so palpable you could taste it in the air.

It hurt, keeping it restrained, and her heart thudded against her ribs, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

Her whole body was tense, and all she wanted was to let the lightning free. To let it roar.

"You are my twin sister, Elain," she said, biting out every word. "We spend 9 months sharing our mother's womb. I trusted you with my life. And you did this to me."

Her sister just sat there, her eyes wide and watery, as if somehow even that had been a shock to her.

"We spent years together," she continued, her words sharp and cold. "I never thought I would need to worry about you betraying me."

Her chest hurt like something was sitting on it, making it hard to breathe, as she continued to hold Elain’s gaze.

Elain’s eyes were wide, watery, and wounded, and she might have been almost sorry that she looked so hurt…if not for the fact that Elain was the one who had caused Eira to be in this position in the first place. Elain was the one who did this to her…hurt her so badly she didn’t know if it’d ever heal.

"I…I…" Elain started, her voice cracking. She looked like she was going to cry, and Eira felt herself waver slightly at the sight of her distraught expression. But then…her mind flashed back to the vision of her daughter , so small and beautiful…and that small, weak flutter of sympathy in her chest died.

"I trusted you," she hissed, her voice thick as she desperately tried to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of her eyes. "I trusted you and look what you did to me. What you took from me."

Her sister let out a watery gasp, her lower lip quivering, and the tears slid silently down her face. And for a moment, Eira felt her resolve waver…only to remember the image of those two babies. The ones that should have been hers.

Anger flared again at that thought, her heart squeezing in her chest, as her breath hitched.

All the sympathy that she had felt was gone, and all that was left was the all-consuming rage coursing through her veins.

She had every right to be angry, she told herself. She had every right to feel this way.

She was so angry, so incandescent with rage, that her entire body was shaking, and she felt like she needed to just scream. To shout and rage and fight…fighting was all she wanted to do.

She gritted her teeth, her fingers wrapping tightly around Azriel’s hand, as she tried desperately to rein in the storm of emotions warring within her chest.

Azriel’s grip on her hand tightened as if he was sensing how close she was to breaking.

“Eira...” Elain said tremulously. Her sister’s voice was quiet, almost timid, and it was enough to snap something within her.

"Don’t. Don’t speak to me. You are the last person who gets to speak to me right now," she snarled, her voice cold as steel. "I loved you," Eira snapped. "I loved you and you did this to me. And now you want to tell me that everything is alright because it WORKED OUT?!"

Her sister looked like she was going to start sobbing, her lower lip quivering faintly, while her brown eyes were like large, round pools. But Eira was done feeling sorry for her. Done feeling sympathy towards her.

“You don’t get to talk to me about what’s alright or not,” she hissed, fighting the urge to reach forward and throttle her. "I just want to know one thing. Why?" she snapped." WHY? Why did you do it?” she shouted bitterly.

Elain looked like she had absolutely no idea how to answer that. She looked like a lost child, and it took all of Eira’s strength to keep her seat and not lunge across the table to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

She knew her eyes were probably like ice when they met her sister’s, and her glare was hard as steel as she waited for her answer. "Why?" Eira repeated icily.

Her sister’s lower lip was trembling, just as much as her shoulders, as she raised her head to meet Eira’s furious glare.

"I…" Her voice was small and watery, and her eyes were now wide and pleading. "I…I was jealous," Elain whispered.

Eira’s jaw dropped at the words. At the admission, she had just heard. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting her sister to say, but a quiet confession of jealousy hadn’t been it.

Her sister’s chin trembled, her shoulders hunching slightly as she let out another sniffle. She sounded utterly small and looked almost pathetic in that moment as she slowly raised her head to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Of you and Azriel,” Elain admitted, her voice quiet, and trembling. "You...we just...we just got out of the cauldron and this was...one of the first things I saw. You didn't have visions. You weren't going insane. You...you adjusted so much quicker. Not a week later and you were making soup in the kitchen in the House of Wind and...you…were alright."

Alright.

Eira thought back to these first few days after the cauldron. Thought back to the terror that had clawed under her skin. Thought back to too loud noises and every piece of clothing feeling like sandpaper against her skin.

She thought back to how she hadn’t been able to sleep. How she had locked herself in the bathing chamber to hysterically break down because she had never wanted it. How she had pulled at her ears, too big, too pointy. How she had wanted to cut them off. How she had wanted to die. How she had thought that throwing herself off the balcony would be a solution .

"I locked myself into the closet. I hid underneath the bed. I rocked back and forth and back and forth and hummed to myself to stop hearing heartbeats and breathing and birds," Eira spat out. "Yes, I was making soup. For you. Because somebody needed to," Eira said, her voice icy. “I wasn’t alright, Elain. I kept stuffing my ears with cotton wool for the better part of 2 years so I could sleep!”

Her sister looked like she was going to start crying yet again, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and it only fuelled the rage in Eira’s chest.

“You were jealous of that ? Jealous that I was making soup? That I was taking care of you?” she repeated, her tone hard and cold. “Of the fact that I was trying to make a positive out of a shitty situation. That I was trying to move on with my life? That I tried not to give Feyre another thing to worry about? And you were jealous? Jealous of what ?!"

Of the breakdowns she had daily?

Her sister didn’t reply, her shoulders shaking as if she was trying to hold back a sob

“You were jealous of the fact that I was trying not to scream, not to break down crying,” she repeated, her voice now dangerously quiet. “Of the fact that I wasn’t moping around feeling sorry for myself, because somebody needed to make sure that you didn’t starve to death? That I was trying not to give Feyre or anyone any more of my baggage?”

"And that you got Azriel," Elain whispered. "You got...I saw you with him. With a kind man. I saw these children and I was...I wanted that. I wanted what that vision promised you. So I thought that if I..."

Her breath caught in her throat at her sister’s words, her heart twisting in her chest.

It was sick, what she had done. Horrible. And part of her had known that Elain had a crush on Azriel…but Eira had never thought she’d be spiteful enough to try and rip her children away from her just for that.

“So you wanted it," she stated coldly, her eyes like chips of ice. "You wanted what you saw me having. So you tried to take it for yourself.”

Her sister’s shoulders slumped, and she looked small and pathetic as she curled in on herself. That rage and anger were still burning hot inside her, but along with it, there was the slightest flicker of sympathy starting to burn within her again.

And Eira hated it. Hated that part of her that still felt sorry for her, even after what Elain had done.

"And later? After you and Lucien figured things out?" Why did you continue it?" she snapped.

Her sister’s face screwed up, and she looked like she wanted to burst into tears yet again. Her chin quivered, her entire form trembling. And she looked so small and fragile, that that small flicker of sympathy flared again within her, and Eira found herself hating it.

"I was...I was angry," Elain muttered softly. "I was furious. I thought Azriel and I...there was something growing between us and then he...he called trying to kiss me a mistake."

Her sister’s voice was quiet and sad, and Eira could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Because it was," Azriel said, his voice quiet. "It was a mistake. You had a mate that was literally sleeping upstairs. I never should have laid a single finger on you."

Her sister flinched at Azriel's words and hunched even further in on herself, as if she wanted to crawl into a corner. "Later it was revenge on me, wasn’t it?" Azriel said, ice dripping from his voice.

Her sister looked as if she couldn't quite meet Azriel's gaze, her eyes lowered onto the table, her body trembling. She nodded.

And part of the anger that was currently roiling within Eira burned hotter at that. How dare she look so pathetic now, like she was the damn victim and everything that had happened was Eira’s fault?

Eira’s free hand clenched into fists, and she could feel the sparks dancing across her skin, the strange energy writhing beneath the surface. Azriel, noticing this, gripped her hand tighter, his shadows snaking around her wrist again as they tried to rein in those sparks of lightning.

She didn’t want to hurt him.

That was what made her reign it in.

She was still boiling with rage, the anger thrumming through her veins like fire, and she desperately tried to calm herself, tried to get a hold of her temper.

She didn’t want to cause any damage, to break anything or hurt anyone, and the part of her that was still rational, still logical, forced her to rein in whatever was itching to get out. She breathed in and out, forcing herself to calm as those sparks danced across her fingers, and those shadows snaked up her arm. A part of her couldn’t help but notice how Elain’s eyes kept darting to the sparks and the shadows, her body tensing every time they appeared, and a small, vindictive part of her couldn’t help but be glad of it.

Her head was throbbing as that rage continued to thrum through her, but she took in another breath, forcing her mind to concentrate on the sensation of Azriel’s hand wrapped around her own. His skin was warm against hers.

"I hope nobody ever does the same to you," Eira finally said, her voice quiet.

Her sister lifted her gaze, her eyes watery, and she looked as if she’d been slapped. She looked as if she was shocked at her words.

There was another pause, another silence, as the two sisters sat facing each other, and her words hung in the air.

Elain’s chin trembled again, as if she was fighting the urge to burst into tears once more.

"I think we can all agree that Elain did not handle this...properly," Lucien said carefully.

Lucien’s words broke the silence, and Eira couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation as he spoke.

"No, she surely didn't," Rhys said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her sister flinched at Rhys’s words, as if she had been struck, and her shoulders drooped even further than before.

"I think that's an understatement," Nesta snapped.

Her sister’s eyes widened as if the sound of Nesta’s voice startled her. Elain’s head jerked to look over at her eldest sister, who was scowling at Elain with an almost furious look of disapproval.

Eira almost felt a little bad for her sister at that look in Nesta’s eyes, but that sympathy was quickly squashed as she remembered the pain that her sister had put her through.

Her chest ached, the memory of what she had lost still too fresh and raw, and a part of her knew that it would take a long time for the pain to subside.

And even then, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to forget what Elain did to her, and that knowledge sat like a lead weight in her stomach, making her feel like she was going to be sick.

Elain shrunk back at the look on Nesta’s face, her eyes even wider as she looked over at her eldest sister. And for a moment, just for a moment, it looked as if Nesta was going to reach across the table and smack her sister. The eldest sister’s hands were clenched into fists, and she looked like she was restraining herself, only just managing to rein in her own temper.

A pause. Another silence. Elain sat, looking small and fragile across the table, Lucien’s chair positioned right beside hers with a possessive arm wrapped over the back.

Azriel’s hand was still gripping hers. He was still sitting beside her, the Shadowsinger’s eyes glittering with fury whenever he looked over at her sister. And his fingers were still rubbing gentle circles on her wrist, the shadows still coiled against her skin, and Eira couldn’t tell if he was doing it to comfort her or himself.

"I am going to say this now," Azriel said quietly. " Once . If you ever do anything remotely similar to your sister again, it will not end well. Do you understand me?"

Elain’s chin quivered, and she looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from bursting into tears again.

She swallowed as Azriel’s words, before slowly lifting her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes with her own. “I…” She took in another shuddering breath. “I understand,” she whispered.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

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inf3ct3dd · 11 months ago

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streamer!ellie pt.2

summary: i hated the other one of this that i made, so REMAKE TIEM!!!

warnings: miiinor sexual content, shit talking, gay people 😒

authors note: heheheh ples don’t flop this time..

- during her faceless days, she opened up a po box so ppl could send her things, and she made an amazon wishlist and she unboxed stuff on stream 😍😍

- one day she was unboxing a giant box of cat toys. string, those little feather stick things, even that weird automatic flapping fish thing (that she secretly loves and taped to her back one time)

- she was playing with this one toy that was a little fishing reel, and it had string and a little fish on the bottom. she went on and onnn about how shes a self proclaimed “fishing master” while garf chased it around, letting out little meows and growls of frustration.

- eventually, she lost her grip and let go of the pole. she bent down to pick it up, forgetting that her face would be in view. thus, the chat started blowing up.

ewwwbruh: FACE REVEAL

ewwife: EW WE CAN SEE UR FACE

ewwife: JUST THE SIDE BUT WE CAN SEE YOUU

ewssidechick: her nose looks so rideable…

- she got distracted petting garfield, and didn’t realize anything until she stood up. she was getting tagged over and over again on twitter, blurry pictures of her face (curtesy of the shitty webcam) circulating through her subreddit.

- “guys. im gonna erase this from ur memory…” and she literally held up this goofy ass hypnotizer pendelum and started fake hypnotizing everyone like “that never happenedddd” “you don’t know what i look likeeee” “that was fakeeee” “chat that was not reallll”

- and everyone literally js went along with it and pretended it never happened. like ppl were tweeting about it and everyone was like “huh??? what are u talking about bruh??”

- she did the same thing after falling off her rainbow unicorn scooter 😞

- one time she revealed that the “ew” in her username stood for her initials, and everyone was making the most horrendous guesses. elliam willace being the favorite one.

- “guys, my name is not edward wilson??? i am…not a man”

- shes gotten into so much drama…multiple notes app apologies have been issued via her instagram story.

- people would ask her opinions on other streamers, and she’d literally just be like “…i have no idea who that is.” and people would get so MADDDD but homegirl is literally just blatantly unaware

- or she would know , and would literally be like “they’re honestly super annoying and i would rather kill myself than watch them but whatever floats ur boat ig!”

- she played that “womp womp womp womppp” sound effect on her soundboard afterwards.

- SPEAKING OF. she abuses that soundboard sooo much. its so obnoxious and annoying like I SWEARRR!!! she’ll tell a horrible pun and play the crowd laughing and cheering sound effects while literally no one laughed.

“guys. whats the best way to watch a fly fishing tournament??”

“…live streaming.”

(crowd cheering sound effect)

“nooo thank you thank you, you’re all too kind, really!!”

- meanwhile chat was dead silent.

- every time she gets to choose her own name on a game its some dumb shit like "jizzmaster" or "chris fucker"

- “it appears you have entered innapropriate content.” “OHHH LOOK AT EPISODE LOOK AT THESE CORPORATE BIGWIGS TRYING TO CONTROL THE LITTLE MAN???”

- she just ended up naming him “chris phucker”

- like when she played episode on stream and made up really annoying voices for all the characters and made her character look like an elderly man, and made the love interest look like you 😍😍

- she messes up sm on games when she streams normally, but when you're there? she is LOCKED THE FUCK IN. sitting there so focused the entire time just to show off

- whenever she randomly goes silent she just starts SINGING. it's either nicki minaj or some fucking fnaf song

"IS THIS THE THANKS THAT I GET FOR PUTTING U BITCHES ON???"

- speaking of, her favorite fnaf song is def “stay calm” cuz she loves saying “hey kids. Nice to eat ya.”

- bought one of those "i paused my game to be here" tshirts…ironically. you refuse to let her wear it in public

- beefs w kids on fortnite sm... she has definitely gotten banned for saying she was gonna bomb a kids house or fuck their mom 😞

- every time she plays a game, she'll literally sit there and watch an 8 hour long video about the lore. she'll plop down on the couch and watch it like a movie

"did you know everyone actually thought that fnaf one took place in 1993, but it was actually 1992?"

- she definitely had you sit next to her when she played through fnaf because she was lowk scared the entire time whenever she heard you walking around the house while she was playing she'd hear footsteps in the hallway and be like. WHAT THE FUCKKK

-she'd have you right next to her, laying your head on her shoulder and messing with her free hand. if you fell asleep, she would be sitting there slapping her hand over her mouth whenever she gets jumpscared bc she doesn't want you to wake up 😞

- sometimes, while she streams , she plays one handed games and lets you sit and draw on her arm for fun. even got you a whole set of those skin markers so u could go ABSOLUTELY HAM. she got one drawing you did that said “r + e 4eva” tattooed in ur handwriting…such a sap

- she loves watching fan edits of herself...AND OF YOU. she'll be on her burner account with a whole collection on tiktok of edits of you.

ewwsbiggestfan: shes so bad i want her to hit me w her car...

- speaking of. imagine her using that account to make shitty capcut edits of you like

- shes ur biggest fan ongod

-WHILE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF “fans”…what if i made a completely new origin story for streamer!ellie and reader. what if they were both streamers….

- OKAY SO BASICALLY.

- you had started streaming about a year before ellie did. butttt, you two did very different types of streaming.

- you weren’t very into like, SERIOUS video games. sure, you played some stuff, like animal crossing and roblox and the sims, but nothing more than that.

- that wasn’t what you were streaming though.

- ever since you were younger, you had been wayyyy into…literature.

-by literature i mean fanfiction. heaps of it.

- actors, anime characters, BOOK CHARACTERS, you were in DEEP

- sometimes, for fun, you used to read them out loud in stupid voices. when you were alone, or with your friends, it was very entertaining

- that’s when you got the idea to start streaming it. if it could entertain your friends, and you, whos to say it wouldn’t entertain other people.

- well, it definitely did. in your first year, you hit 10k followers. people loved you. theyd make edits of you, send in requests of fics for you to read, everything.

- a while later, ellie started gaining more and more popularity. out of all the incomes of fame, fanfiction was the most. abundant!

- one day, you got a request to read an ellie x reader fic. at the time, you barely had any idea who she was, but you decided to just go with it 🤞🏽

- “who the fuck is elliam willace???”

- the fanfic was definitely very…graphic!

- “your hips rolled onto her thigh, her slender, tattooed hand palming at your waist. ‘you’re doing so good babe, fuck.’-“ “GUYS. ISN’T SHE NOT ON MUTE RIGHT NOW???”

- you couldn’t help but giggle the rest of the fic, feeling a nagging heat in your core. you didn’t even know who the girl was, but if this fic was accurate, someone would have to sedate you.

-“im actually. gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. GUYS. who is this woman…is she real… if she is. things are about to get WICKED.”

- not very thankful to you at the moment, she was very real. apparently, you and her were streaming at the same time, and your followers raided her stream telling her she was reading about you. her curiosity was obviously piqued, and why would she NOT join the stream?

- creeperewman: im definitely real!

- the text on your screen literally made your stomach fall into your ass. you stood up and legit just walked out of the room, camera still on. was she there the whole time???

- creeperewman: aww 😞 where’d she go she’s so badddd

- you eventually returned after a minute of calming yourself down, and low and behold, she gifted you 100 subs and followed you on instagram.

- she was definitely very real!! and that fanfic was…lore accurate. to say the least 😊

- after you two started dating, the two of you would often show up on eachothers streams. ellie, teaching you how to play cod, and you, reading with her.

- she secretly loves reading the fics people write about her and making fun of them, and every time you stream with her shes “subtly” hinting that you should read about her

sitting there pulling on her collar, looking away like “gee, wonder who you’re gonna pick today” with the worst fake laugh ever.

- “ellie can barely ride a scooter, idk why she’s in the mafia rn…” “you fall off ONE TIME and all of a sudden you cant ride a scooter. bullshit.”

- she makes fun of all the dumb pet names like “babygirl” and “darling” and randomly calls you them and bursts out laughing

- you still read those fics when you’re bored sometimes. and ellie MERCILESSLY makes fun of you for it

“yknow, if you missed me that bad, you should’ve just told me.”

#streamer!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams

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lxvvie · 5 months ago

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Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Missus Princess Daddy edition:

Little Bean Riley (Simon calls her "Beanie" or "Bean" because she looked like a bean when she would scrunch up while sleeping as a baby) is a daddy's girl through and through, the apple of Simon's eye. It's his family's world, mate. He's just living happily in it. He also swears she would look at him like he was the most interesting science experiment and the most traitorous subject ever when she was a baby. Mm. He doesn't know where she got that from. ("You sure about that, Si?")

After you would feed her, she wouldn't be content just sitting in her baby chair. Simon would hold her with one arm and eat and drink with the other. Cue Queen Bean staring at him or, er, his food and drink and grabbing at it. "No, Beanie," Simon would gently say and there goes that stare again. How dare you say no to your Queen Bean, peasant father.

It's a pain in the ass that he has to shave a lot but it is what it is. Queen Bean does not approve, however, because while she loves to touch his scars and crooked nose, she really likes his stubble. For some odd reason. Cue the look of disappointment. Your baby girl turns to you for your support in this betrayal. "I know, sweetheart. I think the same thing," you say and Simon wonders where you two went wrong because you're supposed to be a TEAM lmao.

Queen Bean getting older and while she doesn't know what Simon truly does, the little girl is smart. She knows enough to know that Daddy should not be getting all the boo-boos he's getting when he comes home and she lets him know. "Bad, Daddy. Bad!" You nod in approval. Bloody hell, he's outmatched in his own home. "Sorry, Beanie," Simon says, but Her Majesty shan't be appeased that way. A trip to her and Simon's favorite bakery would suffice. She promises not to tell you about it.

Her Majesty has seen her destiny and come into her role. Thank you, Disney. Bean knows what she must do. She knows what Daddy must do. When Queen Bean can no longer protect the denizens of... Rileyland, Daddy must step up, and so, in pure Disney and Queen Bean flair, she crowns him... Princess Daddy of Rileyland. You tried your damndest not to laugh in Simon's face. Honestly. Truly. Not really. The name has stuck and now Simon is Princess Daddy around the house and he wonders how his eyeballs haven't managed to fall out what with the way he rolls his eyes so much. Just like there can only be one Missus, there can only be one Princess Daddy. It is him, Simon Riley, First of His Name, Missus Princess Daddy. He wears his titles with pride.

Princess Daddy must comport himself with the utmost poise befitting his status. The pinky finger must be out when drinking one's cuppa. He must wave to his subjects (Queen Bean's toys) with regality—bloody hell, he doesn't wave—and SWEAR JAR, Princess Daddy of Rileyland! He must also be available for cuddles, movie time, and daddy-daughter dates to the toy store and bakery. Always, Beanie. Always.

Simon has also become Beanie's personal mobile throne and jungle gym. A Queen's feet should never touch the ground after all. It's the way her eyes light up when she sits atop his shoulders and sees the world around her. The world that can (and will) one day be hers. It's the joy she radiates and it makes Simon's heart swell. And this is why he takes his duty as Missus Princess Daddy, Protector of Rileyland so seriously...

...Well, until he had to undergo a makeover. Because you and Bean watched the Princess Diaries. And because you really love doing self-care. Bloody hell. Have you ever seen a 6'4" mountain of a man, with scars and stubble aplenty, wearing a Hello Kitty face mask and some glittery nail polish on his fingers? Well, Simon supposes there's a first time for anything. His skin's never felt better, though, and he's yet to take the nail polish off. Mm. "Makes the wedding band stand out, yeah?" he asks you, and it actually does. Queen Beanie has impeccable taste as always.

And when your baby girl gets sick, Princess Daddy never leaves his daughter's side. Like hell he ever would. He must protect Rileyland after all. He's there to tuck her in, give her medicine, and soothe her pain as best he can. He risks the back pain, huge frame wrapped protectively around Queen Beanie as they nap in her bed. It's the cutest thing. You drape another blanket over them both before busying yourself with your own devices. You and Beanie couldn't ask for a better Protector.

#2queued4u.#dad!simon #call of duty #call of duty modern dadfare.#call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x reader #cod x you #x black reader #x poc reader #x plus size reader #task force 141

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daipeanutsaiban · 24 days ago

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some family headcanons (in order: van zieks, baskerville, asogi, holmes) not everyone has names yet 🫣💦

i wrote more details under the cut ⬇️ this info can also be viewed under the "tgaa oc guide" in my carrd (linked in my profile).

Holmes

Mycroft: he’s 7 years older than his brother in the ACD canon, but I wanted him to be around the same age as Klint and Lady Baskerville. He and Sherlock are 7 and 15 respectively here. I wanted his hair to be dark and over his eyes so it’d match his cynical attitude that things are about to go bad at any time. Also, it’s a nice contrast to Sherlock’s lightly toasted color, so you could say he got “burnt”. Mycroft usually wears gloves, both because he dislikes touching things directly and because he has a tendency to be dishonest (a classic character design trope - though it’s probably less obvious in a game where almost every character of the upper social classes will wear gloves due to the setting). Mycroft predominantly wears green (next to yellow on the color wheel). Despite his avoidant and anxious behaviours, he has a sharp tongue, and rarely addresses people by their proper title. For someone who wants to avoid trouble, he doesn’t try really hard to fit in due to being a contrarian in that aspect... he’s a genius, but he’s an idiot too (lol).

Sherlock: The most important thing is that he’s recognizable without being dressed identically to his adult self, because he hasn’t come into his own yet (and it would just make no sense). He’s wearing rather nice clothes since the Holmes family belongs to the gentry class, but my friend suggested that his clothes would be dirty often since he’s crawling around trying to “solve cases” all the time, and I really love that idea. His mother is probably despairing about it. Sherlock takes himself very seriously at this age, but of course he says ridiculous things all the time.

Father (unnamed): I wanted the brothers to have a point of reference or inspiration for their creativity with inventions and general resourcefulness, so he’s a toymaker who specializes in automata. Mycroft learned from him for some time until he eventually surpassed him due to his inherent genius, but Sherlock lost interest quickly despite also showing talent. Their father is a friendly man whose work usually keeps busy, and he’s on good terms with his wife. I’m undecided on whether the toy shop should be connected to their house or not.

Mother (unnamed): I really wanted her to look like her youngest son without being an exact replica of him, with a simple and uncomplicated design. She’s a housewife with no other occupation officially, but she’s adept at sewing and often takes on requests from friends and neighbours. She also makes clothes for her husband’s creations, as well as for her children. Will dress up Mycroft and Sherlock in dresses on occasion, sometimes to get back at them for causing trouble and sometimes just to try out designs. Sherlock doesn’t mind it, and neither does Mycroft though he’s annoyed at the “punishment” since it’s usually his brother who ropes him into trouble. Their mother is constantly fatigued by their antics, so I feel a little bad for her (their father is more easygoing, so he doesn’t get as stressed out by their sons). Her relationship with her oldest son was complicated for some time due to his tendency to withdraw from the world, but her youngest helped her understand that his brother does love her in his own ways.

Van Zieks

I tried my best to incorporate angel motifs in their design to reflect Barok’s “fallen angel” motif later in life, hence why his and Klint’s father has white hair for example. The feather lace on their mother’s sleeves was a last minute addition; I think I’ll revisit their designs again soon. Klint wears his hair the same as he does as an adult to keep him recognizable, but I think it’d be funny if when he was very young it was parted on the side and he hated it or something.

Claes: Their father’s name. It’s Dutch and pronounced “Klaus”, but I keep pronouncing it wrong (a little bit on purpose because I like the sound of it spelled out). He has a constant poker face, but he’s actually the most affectionate parent in this entire lineup..! He’s meant to be smiling in the drawing, but a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell. I love characters whose personality subverts our expectations we’d usually have based on their appearance, so he looks and acts very seriously but would rather spend time at home with his family and hates going to work (lol). Also fond of cute, small, and typically “feminine” things, but he keeps that part of him a secret since it’d be frowned upon for a man in this era, especially within the upper class which is all about appearance (his wife is aware of it, though). Maybe that’s why he dotes on his kids so much? He’s very corny as well and has plenty of nicknames for his wife and children, which Klint hated at this age. I also wanted Claes to be the same height as Stronghart, with an imposing build and expression, so that the next authority figure in the brothers’ lives following his death would “fill” the gap he left. But that didn’t end so well, did it...

Evana: Their mother’s name. Similarly to Claes, her personality is meant to subvert her elegant appearance. She’s a complete airhead and once got lost in her own house. Evana is nonetheless stricter than her husband towards her children and puts a lot of emphasis on what is or isn’t proper. She’s in tune with trends and gossip as is expected of a lady in her position, and might come across as superficial to some, but she is very loving. When young Lady Baskerville would visit, she and her future mother-in-law would get along tremendously well (to Klint’s annoyance as he also wanted to spend time with his fiancee but couldn’t relate to most of their conversations). Evana had the most religious faith among the van Zieks, and would encourage virtue, integrity, and nobility of character above all else in her children.

Barok and Klint: Two well-behaved, beloved children. Barok is of course the little darling after all; I think Klint was probably the more rebellious one but became very serious after their parents’ death with all the responsibilities now on his shoulders. That was probably a very lonely period for Barok, until his brother cheered up again.

Baskerville

Primrose (Lady Baskerville): In flower language, her name means “I can’t live without you”. I didn't know this at the time I named her, but it fits the story very well, so thank you to my friend who taught me this! Primrose’s outlook is very unconventional for the era and especially at her young age, but she’s grown disillusioned with her lot in life as well as men following her mother’s death. I wanted her to be the only one in the family to be a redhead to reflect how she’s not fitting the mould with her assertive and brash personality, and how she feels "out of place". Her father dresses her in very impractical, often white dresses to assert his control over her as a form of “love”; to thwart her tendency to sneak out of the house without permission and participate in unladylike activities.

Her and Klint become codependent on each other following his own parents’ passing and promise to marry each other even though Lord Baskerville is set on finding his daughter a suitor with a more stable future.

The woman is her stepmother, and the others are her father and her half-brother. Since I’m working on a project involving all of them, I don’t want to reveal too much about them yet. All I can say is that it’s not a happy home, and no one in particularly close to each other (except the twins, maybe)...

Asogi

Genshin: I imagined he used to be short and got his growth spurt late (shown at around 12 years old here). Genshin looks a lot like Kazuma due to his eyes and nose, but thankfully he has a distinctive hairstyle already. I'd like to think he grows out his hair at around fifteen. The scarf's pattern is meant to evoke snake scales! Sorry for how lazily I drew Karuma here, haha. As for his personality, he has a poker face but I like to think he can be quite mischievous, though not towards his immediate family as the repercussions would be non-negligible. His brother in law, Hiroki, however, is the perfect person to prank since he's both kind and naive. I also imagine it's tradition for every (male) Asogi to dedicate their life to training, though he’d have a bamboo sword instead of Karuma at this age, probably... I wonder how Genshin discovered the hilt trick? If he was a kid or teenager, maybe he hid snacks inside (lol).

Miwa: Genshin’s older sister. She wears men’s clothes most of the time. Being their father’s legitimate child, she was going to inherit the clan despite being a woman until Genshin showed up. With Genshin having the “luck” to resemble his father, as well as being male, their father decided to make him the heir instead. Miwa resents Genshin for taking this chance from her, despite knowing deep down that he is not personally at fault. Still, she is outwardly bitter and dismissive of him, and spites his efforts to become closer to his sister. Miwa is both vain and arrogant while also following a rigid moral code. She distrusts men, most likely due to her father’s treatment, but she also respects her father greatly as a warrior. Miwa displays surprising gentleness towards children and women, namely Genshin’s girlfriend and later wife Yukari. Her abrasive personality mellows out when she becomes a mother herself, but she was unable to repair her relationship with her brother before his death. Since that’s very sad, in modern AUs I like to depict them on better terms.

Hiroki: Miwa’s husband through arranged marriage. Hails from a family of performers; his specialty is traditional dance but he’s skilled in rakugo as well. I wanted a character with a sensitive side, who is in touch with his emotions, to contrast the serious and tense atmosphere of the Asogi clan. Thanks to that side of him, Hiroki gets along well with Yukari who has a similar easygoing and “refreshing” personality. However, Hiroki’s sensitivity creates problems since Miwa is confused by a man exhibiting such behaviours (he’s the type to be moved by beautiful scenery and cry over small animals). Hiroki believes everyone can do good and that most people act from goodness, but for this reason he’s easily tricked- namely by Genshin. Despite amusing himself at his expense (since Genshin is quite clever), Genshin enjoys Hiroki’s company since he’s a very mellow person and doesn’t bring up dreadful topics like inheritance and power and such. Hiroki is surprisingly well-built under his clothes, and his weapon of choice is a naginata. I guess Syoma wanted his son-in-law to be strong..?

Syoma: The central figure in the Asogi household. Still alive during the events of TGAA. A very serious man who accords a lot of importance to honor and tradition to the point it’s stifling. Distant from his children, though Miwa claims Genshin is the favorite. The kind of father to make his children compete to “make them grow”, even though one of them is almost an adult and the other is barely a teenager. Although Genshin was conceived after his late wife’s passing, Syoma sees Genshin as a reminder of his dishonourable actions (mainly due to Genshin’s mother being a prostitute), and thus avoids him despite placing the onus of inheritance upon him. All of that results in a house Genshin doesn’t want to stay in- and contributes to his reasons to go study abroad. In his own twisted way, Syoma loves his children, but he was never meant to be a father, or at least does not know how to parent without a wife’s help (tradition and patriarchy is very much a theme for the whole clan lol). I honestly struggle to write him because the things he says can be very hurtful, especially towards his daughter-in-law. His character is a lot more comedic/nicer in modern AU (think pseudo yakuza with mother hen personality), but so is everyone’s. (it’s very sitcom-like, haha)

Thanks for reading if you made it this far!! This post could be even longer but I decided to spare everyone💗 have a bonus papazieks and children doodle for your time👼💗

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dmbakura · 11 months ago

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OK so I want to stress that this is NOT a slight against OP of this post or how they feel about the way the game presents certain options, but I've seen sentiments like this before and I feel like people still aren't quite grasping WHY the game doesn't allow the option to do a "slow burn romance where you can show him you truly care about him beyond sex" if you ascend him. So I wanted to take the opportunity to talk about Astarion's route and objectification, and the very intentional limitations of player choice regarding the ascension path.

Objectification is the act of degrading someone to the status of a mere object. It often involves a sexual component, but not necessarily. It's reducing someone to being a tool or toy, as if they have no feelings/opinions/autonomy of their own. In Astarion's case, his objectification is very much tied to his sexuality, but also his own views on power and control, and how that reflects on both him and his romantic partner.

I think people get too fixated on Welch's quote "it's reducing your relationship with him back to being a kink/form of gratification... it's very much admitting you failed to think of him beyond a sex object" and take this as commentary or judgment on the players choices, when it isn't actually that. It's quite literally the story that is baked into the route and Astarion's character as a whole. There are obviously reasons to ascend him that have nothing to do with how you personally feel about him as a character, ie you want stats, you think it's just more fun, or interesting, or you like the tragedy, etc but in regards to the story itself? It's actually more commentary on how Astarion views himself more than anything else. He is an intentional subversion of the seductive vampire trope. You cannot engage with his story without interacting with this aspect of his character.

Even if you had a dialogue option to try and initiate a romance with him without that first night of sex, Astarion wouldn't take it. If you had a dialogue option to "show him you cared and want to protect him" he would either scoff at it or get angry, as he does if you try and express similar sentiments about protecting him from Cazador. He doesn't want to be coddled. He doesn't trust mindless heroism or altruism. He initiates sex because he uses it as a tool for manipulation and insurance of his own safety. You can either play into that manipulation or don't (and he seems to respect you more if you don't, which says a lot about his self worth). You can't initiate a slow burn romance because Astarion is so distrustful of EVERYONE and has no ability to conceptualize genuine care at this point in the game due to his mistreatment as a vampire spawn. This is an incredibly important aspect to his character and to change the foundation of this is to rewrite his character entirely.

(There is ONE exception to this: Karlach. Karlach is the only character that can initiate more of a slowburn with Astarion and won't sleep with him the first night because she quite literally, physically can't. And Astarion doesn't immediately accept this either. He belittles Karlach, to the point of calling her frigid and basically defective, wondering if he's wasting his time, before she chews him out for being an asshole. Again, he has no idea how to approach a relationship without using sex as a transaction and it shows. He only goes along with it because he quite literally cannot do his normal routine. This is the only reason he won't start a relationship with Karlach using sex.)

So anyways, that choice at the start? The way Astarion's romance initiates on the first night? It intentionally parallels the way ascended!Astarion will offer you an ultimatum: become his spawn or leave him. At the start of the game, Astarion intentionally plays into the sexy vampire trope to get what he wants, is highly paranoid, afraid and distrustful of everyone. At the end of the game in the ascended route... he's intentionally playing into the sexy vampire trope, is highly paranoid, afraid and distrustful of everyone, only this time he has power to back him up. Nothing about his views has been fundamentally challenged if you ascend him; he's completely validated in his beliefs about power and control and entirely in the mindset that he has no value without becoming the ascendant.

It's not about whether you personally find him sexy or not. It's not about having sex at this point. It's not about you or your character. Astarion objectifies himself, fully playing the only hand he knows (as he himself puts it) because that is all he knows how to do. In the ascended path, he has been shown no other option. Your character, good intentions or not, has not given him the tools to see himself as anything else. There is no way too make himself see himself as anything else, except by not ascending him! Either you let this man degrade you as he degrades himself, or don't. That is the option provided, and anything otherwise wouldn't make sense without rewriting his character completely.

Do you value what he actually wants (freedom) or do you value what he says he wants (power, because he views it as the only way to get that freedom)? To me the game makes it obvious (ESPECIALLY with the newly added epilogue) that walking in the sun again or gaining the power of the vampire ascendant aren't the keys to Astarion's happiness. Stuff like that, while nice, doesn't magically grant him peace and it's not a substitute for character growth and self reflection. It honestly just feels like people want the personality and development of spawn Astarion but in the ascended Astarion path, which doesn't make any sense with the way the story unfolds.

Anyways, I just wanted to say that objectification can be more than just seeing someone as a sex object, and doesn't necessarily have to do with sex itself. It can tie into views about power and degradation and a lack of self respect. Furthermore, it's not the game telling you you're a bad person or some sex addled freak if you ascend him, it's asking you to engage with what Astarion's personal story can say about sexuality, cycles of abuse, trauma and recovery - for better or worse.

#astarion #ascended astarion #again i feel like people are less interested about what it can say as a story #and more interested in projecting whatever their personal RP is onto the game #which i should clarify i think is fine in transformative work #but if it's to the point where you feel the game is calling you out specifically maybe interrogate why you feel that way?

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wh1msic4lwasab1 · 3 months ago

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𝑲𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒚-!! ≽^•⩊•^≼

synopsis: L&Ds men interactions when you get a cat!

tags: fluff, nothing suggestive very cute and wholesome

a/n: rare blue moon occasion where i write fluff LMAO but this was toooo cute of a request

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

Gets a little too jealous.

You’d never seen him like this, especially over a pet.

When you got pet fish he never batted an eye, even offering to feed it or get some decorations for your tank.

But with your new kitty, he thinks you spend far too much time with it.

Insisting it needs to “learn how to live” by itself, but when you tell him the same he pouts.

When you end up falling asleep on the couch, circled up with kitty on your lap, he’ll scowl; trying to slowly place himself behind you and nap alongside you, quickly getting hissed off. The cat could definitely feel Xavier’s resentment.

You walked into quite the spectacle the other day, hearing mumbling coming from your living room while you exited your bed.

As if Xavier was talking on the phone, but it was the cat…

You lurk behind the wall, seeing him seated criss cross on the floor, dancing a treat infront the cats mouth, “Alright…today you’ll leave us alone okay…and more treats…” he whispers, repeating over and over as if its interested in anything but the treats.

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

He took it like how you thought…you’d wake up too many times to see him crawling over you to the other side of the bed if your kitty slept near him.

Always wondering how you’d let such a “beast” sleep next to you while in a most vulnerable state.

When you were in be shower you thought you heard an entire crime scene go down.

But when you exited the bathroom, hair wet and soap still dripping down your legs with a towel around you…It was Rafayel calling for you.

“It’s- It’s licking me! Make it stop- You monster!!! No don’t go near the paint- Y/n-!”

He’d spend time lecturing the cat as if it could understand him, arms crossed and all…what a drama queen.

𝑺𝒚𝒍𝒖𝒔

He pampers it like it’s your child. He was “annoyed” at first, he likes cats maybe even more than the next guy but he believes they’re predators who can fend for themselves, and deserve respect for their resilience.

All that chatter yet you find your own cat with a collar that costs your entire paycheck. Matching bowls, toys, scratching posts, and even a self cleaning litter box.

You found that Sylus likes to spoil everything he likes.

When you took him to the supermarket to buy treats for the kitty, you tried to make sensible but generous choices, picking up a pretty good brand according to some internet forums.

As you held it in your hand you saw Sylus look at you with a face of disgust. He took it from you slowly, pinching it from the top like it was disease ridden, “…What kind of garbage is that….we can’t feed this them this?” He says, opting for the most expensive bag of treats you layed your eyes on. “We should just have the chefs make fresh treats next time…”

So now you and your cat are both resident sugar babies.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

Is often very fond of it, but sometimes there’s mild jealous. he’s not the jealous one, nor is the cat…

It seemed a little odd to you, how Zayne would sit on the other end of the couch and keep it company during your movie nights.

He’d feed it, pet it, bathe it even!

The cat was basically his now…

One time you called Zayne, frantic and scared thinking she ran away.

He assured you that she was actually just at the hospital with him…for some odd reason. He claimed the cat wouldn’t let him leave your home that morning without coming along.

When you tried to coerce the kitty to come back with you, you thought you’d bring her “favorite” toy.

“No- no she doesn’t like that one…”

And then- he pulled out a rattling toy from his office desk to entertain her with.

This cats got good taste in men you suppose.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

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leonw4nter · 10 months ago

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(Second) Prettiest Fairy Princess

Dad!DI!Leon x F!Reader

“Say ‘bye’ to momma!” Leon beams as he holds his daughter, Aurora– or Rory, as you two lovingly call her.

“Bye momma!” the little girl in his arms beam. One hand wound around his neck and the other raised up, a tiny hand waving at you.

You say your own share of byes too, pressing a kiss to your 4 year-old’s cheek before giving Leon his own kiss to his lightly chapped yet still pink lips. You get in the Uber Leon picked up for you, shutting the door and heading to the mall where you will be having a girls’ day with Helena and Hunnigan, your former coworkers. Despite retiring because you were going to become a mother, you still stayed close with the two.

As soon as the car is no longer in his sight, he heads back into your shared home. Rory asks to be put back down so Leon does as she wants, bending down with a slight groan and making sure she’s standing upright before he lets go and bends back up, another groan escaping his mouth along with the faint pops of joints. My age is definitely catching up with me now, he thinks to himself though he doesn’t mind if it’s you he’ll be aging with.

“Daddy! I want to play!” Rory excitedly says as she takes Leon’s hand with her tiny ones and drags him to the stairs, heading for the direction of her room.

“Alright, alright, kiddo. Let’s head up, no?” he asks with a pleased smile. There’s dishes waiting in the sink and laundry waiting to be folded but they all could wait if it means spending some time making his daughter smile. The sight of his daughter’s grin and the gold wedding band that flashes a bright gold beam whenever the sunlight hits it is something his former self didn’t think he could ever experience. Back in ‘98, he was certain that the farthest length of meeting the greatest love in his life and starting a family would stop at dreams and wishful thinking but he was wrong.

He didn’t even realize they had reached the top of the stairs as he almost trips, engrossed in the sweet monologue he had going on in that head of his. His daughter’s tiny arms push him into the pastel yellow and pink room before shutting the door and proceeding to yank out tutus and tiaras from a toy basket.

“Sit.” she sternly says as she points to the carpeted ground right beneath Leon’s feet. Not one to disobey a lady’s orders, he promptly sits down with crossed legs and looks at her with genuine interest. Not too long after, Leon is dolled up to look the part of “a pretty princess for a tea party but you’re only the second prettiest because I’m the first one”, which earns a small laugh from him. Even to himself, he's second to everything because he always keeps his girls at first.

Rory hands him a small mirror so Leon can see the sparkly splash of pink, green and orange on his eyelids as well as the most pink blush he’s ever seen. His lips are the brightest shade of red ever making him look real goofy but if it means making his daughter’s day, he doesn’t mind; she’s the princess and he’s just the jester (and the occasional knight in shining armor). She swiftly puts her own play make-up on, her own lids smeared with different sparkly shades of pink and her lips in the same red shade as Leon’s.

“Your highness, let me get the tea and cookies.” she says in a wonky British accent.

“Alright, my beautiful princess.” Leon says, though he doesn’t put on a fake accent.

“Daddy, no! You’re supposed to also say ‘and please give me the sugar plum tea’! Again!” she says with a hand to the hip, dropping the accent.

“Okay,” he softly mutters with an amused smile. She definitely got the sass from her mother. “Alright, my beautiful princess, please give me the sugar plum tea!” he repeats.

She smiles brightly and excitedly announces that it’s coming right up. She walks out of the room, occasionally coming back in to take some more cups, plates, spoons, and bowls. Wait? Bowls? The princess is putting her heart and soul into this so-called “sugar plum tea”. Because the princess was brought up with manners and polite etiquette, she served Leon some cookies and cakes as he waited, along with a Beanie Baby that her uncle Chris got her (insisting it’s a snack, providing no further explanations). Playing along, he loudly made chomping sounds while she walked out of the room and busied herself with the tea. After a few minutes, she walks back inside with a tea pot and tiny cups filled with water.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, madame. My chef ahem is new to the kitchen so I had to tell him how to prepare tea the princess way,” she apologizes as she sets the cup in front of Leon with a complementary saucer.

With a sharp eye, he looks at the water and sees that there isn’t anything floating on the water; the water doesn’t look cloudy too and it’s impossible for her to have gone downstairs and taken water from the dog’s bowl so he deemed it safe to drink. After all, she did exert some effort into actually “making” the tea. He hooks his fingers in the loop of the tea cup, making sure to emulate the sticking out pinky finger just like Rory is doing before taking a sip. “The water doesn’t have an odd taste. Okay, she definitely wasn’t fooling around,” Leon quietly observes. He gives her a bright smile, complimenting the tea and calling it “the most delightful beverage to ever tickle my taste buds, a true drink fit for the prettiest princesses in this kingdom”, which prompts the little girl in front of him to giggle and start complimenting the “chef” who prepared the “tea” (the “chef” is, in fact, the Djungelskog that Leon got for you when you were 6 months into the pregnancy and very much emotional every time you saw the bear at IKEA’s window or online site). Apparently the chef is French and has worked with Barney and the Little Einsteins, according to her. This entire moment is too silly and wholesome so Leon decides to take a selfie, making a mental note to send this to you later on.

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The tea party carried on for a few more minutes until she got drowsy, prompting Leon to get up and carry her over to her bed. Grabbing a few sheets of wipes, he removes the eyeshadow and lipstick on her face before unclipping some clips from her hair and taking her tutu off. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep and Leon picks the toys up, pouring the water out of the pots and cups and wiping them dry before putting them back in the basket. He takes this chance to finally get back at the chores waiting for him but not before he sends the picture to you. Opening the app and choosing the contact named “my Y/N”, he sends a short message asking how you are and detailing the sweet playtime he had with your daughter along with the picture. After an hour or two, he finally finishes doing the chores– even sweeping the floors and polishing the dining table, as well as bathing the dog. He gets in the shower and freshens up, remembering the tender moment hours ago and finding himself smiling wider each time.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s now quarter to 6 and Leon finishes setting up dinner just as the bell rings. He practically skips to the door, his face lighting up with joy when he sees you. He takes your bag and slings it over his shoulder, undoing the strap of your sandals and asking about how your day went. As you step out of them, he takes the heels and places it on the shoe cabinet and puts your bag on the couch. Rory jumps off of the couch, excitedly walking over to you and hugs your legs with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. She tells you about her and her dad’s day, tiny hand gently holding your wrist as she leads you to the dining table for dinner. You were just about to reach over a piece of food and cut it up into smaller pieces for her when Leon places a hand on yours, telling you that he’ll do it.

“C’mon honey, you were out walking all day. Just sit and have dinner, I’ll do it this time,” he softly says. You don’t argue against him, letting him do the cutting. Rory does all the talking, which you are thankful for since your social battery is nearly drained.

Dinner tasted amazing as usual and now your entire family is in the living room, watching The Little Prince on the TV. What Coco does to Leon, The Little Prince does to you; you’ve never finished the movie without shedding a few tears and laying on Leon’s shoulder for some comfort. Though you both know it’s a movie that has you reduced to tears, you still choose to put it on because not only is it genuinely good, it’s a movie Rory loves. While waiting for the movie to finally load, a question pops up in your mind.

“Sweetie, where’d you get the water for your tea from?” you ask. Leon doesn’t mind, probably guessing that she got it from the water bottle you forgot to bring downstairs in the morning.

“I got it from the fish tank!” she beams. Your smile swiftly drops and your head turns to Leon; you swear you’ve never seen the color drain that fast from his face. The movie finally loads but Leon feels slightly off, the food in his stomach making him feel a little odd. He’s that weak for his little girl; he’s a seasoned agent trained to read people by their mannerisms but his daughter’s devious giggling made it past his normally highly-perceptive gaze.

NOTE - I whipped this fic up right after @agent-dessis-posts asked me if I write dad!Leon and I immediately got that burst of motivation. There was this book called "Make A Wish" that I read around mid-November and the dad matched ID/DI!Leon's description so the whole time I just pictured that version of Leon whilst reading and it was AMAZING (the dad in the book is a single dad to a nine year old which made it even more amazing for me). Anyways, you guys seem to really like my fics which I appreicate a lot so thank you so much!!! I'll post the directory to my blog soon, I'm just making things look cuter :)

The heart dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#fluff #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #biohazard #death island leon #resident evil death island #dad leon kennedy #dad leon s kennedy

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dat-lil-shark · 4 months ago

Text

I found more TFP Characters Stats and they are VERY Interesting

So over a week ago I found out that in the Japanese airing of Transformer Prime, they put up these commercials in between episodes that displays the characters stats. Back then I only found Soundwave’s, but now I’ve found almost everyone.

Again, I have no guarantee that these are canon enough, cause it's made by Japanese, who made Airachnid a yandere.

But it’s fun to assume they are.

(SPOILERS ALERT)

First of all. MEGATRON ACTUALLY HAVE HIGHER INTELLIGENCE STATS THAN OPTIMUS!!!??? (Op got 8 and MT got 9)

Not only that but also higher speed and firepower TOO (OP got 7 speed and 9 firepower, and MT got 9 speed and 10 firepower).

Sure Optimus got bigger courage and skills but in battlefields if MT is not so dr**ed up he might just win a lot more.

And speaking of unexpected intelligence.

Compared to Arcee, Airachnid also got WAY higher intelligence (AH 9 and RC 7) and slightly higher strength (AH 5 and RC 4) AND FIREPOWER (AH 5 and RC 4).

I was at first surprised how Airachnid could be so smart but then it did made sense since she was able to always lure Arcee into her fun cave to beat her up and was able to easily kill Breakdown.

(And I know technically this was supposed to be the Japanese yandere Airachnid but— let’s just ignore that— maybe let’s pretend it’s the normal Airachnid okay? Please?)

But Arcee got 9 on courage.

Airachnid might got the cunning but at least Arcee got the feral.

And the way Arcee only got 7 on the intelligence out here is breaking stereotypes that the only girl in the group has to be smart.

Luckily not all Autobot and Decepticon rivalry ends in a Decepticon topping the Autobot.

For example.

Bulkhead is a lot— AND I MEAN A LOT better than Breakdown is.

He’s got higher strength (BH 10 and BD 9), intelligence(BH 5 and BD 4), courage (BH 8 and BD7), rank (BH 6 and BD 4) AND firepower (BH 7 and BD 6)

Bruh Breakdown is competing with Bulkhead just because he is insecure 😂😂😂😅😅

Bulkhead can actually sweep the floor with Breakdown if he wanna!

also I think Breakdown got the lowest stat in intelligence and rank than any other characters here.

This actually does explain how Breakdown could be killed so easily by Airachnid, honestly, since Airachnid got more than twice as much intelligence as him.

Well at least we know Knockout married him for true love.

And speaking of Knockout.

He’s SO WEAK!! 😂😂😂😂

Dude Knockout is an absolute LOOSER!! (At least according to the Japanese)

He LITTERALLY GOT 5 SKILLS, ENDOURANCE, AND 4 COURAGE!!

THAT IS ALMOST THE SAME ENDOURANCE AND ALMOST HALF THE COURAGE AS ARCEE (who is about only 1/2 of his body size btw) (his buff armours are just for shows) AND HALF THE SKILL OF RATCHET!!

HOW DID KNOCKOUT EVEN MANAGED TO BE A MEDIC!!

He is only a bit good on speeds. Now no wonder he loves racing ITS THE ONLY THING HE IS GOOD AT!! Bro litterally covers himself in makeups cause he’s too self aware 😂😂😂!

I wondered how he managed to lie so perfectly on his job resume.

And speaking of medics.

Ratchet is WAY better in everything than I expected.

He’s more than twice the medic Knockout would ever be.

He actually got EIGHT endurance which is surprising, cause that is only one star lower than Bulkhead!

The doctor might be old but he’s still got armors and bones as strong as boulders.

No wonder he kept getting beaten up in this serie but just got up fine and never snap his back once like my own grandpa after standing up from his chair.

Wheeljack on the other hand is also not bad at all.

He got 9 skills. I guess that’s what got him to be able to make all his terrorist toys.

Also it’s funny cause he’s only got 8 endurance, that’s 2 stars lower than Ratchet.

Could you just IMAGINE Wheeljack and Ratchet fist bumping as hard as they could but it was Wheeljack who ended up having to grab his fists in pain??

Also he only got 6 intelligence?? That’s honestly far lower than I excepted tbh. That is only one star higher than Bulkhead.

No wonder Ultra Magnus has such a bad time.

(it’s also funny how Arcee criticized Wheeljack for impulsively going to avenge Bulkhead when she herself is only like, one stat smarter, and does that with Airachnid on a daily basis (sure she didn’t drag any humans in but she is still barely better).

(Also by the way, speaking of Ultra Magnus, he doesn’t have a stat page unfortunately cause the Japanese TFP never got a season 3, it just ends at Optimus breaking the Alpha lock and that’s it, which means Ultra Magnus never appeared, and neither did Shockwave (beside that one Arcee flashback) and Predaking unfortunately).

Oh and the Dreadwing Skyquake twins are over powered.

Just look at them!

They are almost the exact same in stats except Skyquake got more endourance and Dreadwing got more fire power.! If Megatron had both of them at the same time they could just deep fry the Autobots in episode 10!

RIP Skyquake you had SO much POTENCIALS man. And to think that even the PRIME HIMSELF ALONE can’t take you out without major help from Bumblebee.

And speaking of Bumblebee.

HE MAXED OUT ON COURAGE.

Listen no one else in this whole list got courage 10 except Bumblebee.

Not Arcee, not Optimus, not Ratchet, not Smokescreen, and not even Wheeljack.

HE IS FERAL!!

Damn it man now thinking back I don’t think I recall a SINGLE MOMENT in the entire show, although it wasn’t obvious first time through, that Bumblebee actually considered for his own safety before doing anything. And it’s not even in an “I am willing to sacrifice my own safety for the greater good” way but a “Oh I’m gonna lose a leg for this but it’ll be nice? Sign me up!” Way! “Psyc link into Megatron? Count me in!” “Jump on top of Skyquake? You bet!” “Run straight toward Silas when you can litterally wait for 5 more minutes but then you can get your t cog back for five more minute earlier? I’m coming!!”

If it’s not for the fact that Bumblebee got a good dad that he’s happy to listen to he will be a bigger disaster than Wheeljack is.

The other kid, Smokescreen, is just a tad bit weaker. But he’s way better than I expected since he only just joined this war. (*cough cough* way better than Knockout).

However,

on the other servo.

Starscream is OVERPOWERED.

Bro has got EIGHT STRENGTH despite his skinny arms (same as Skyquake & Dreadwing), NINE SPEED (faster than Megatron), NINE FIREPOWER (same as Optimus) and TEN FRAGGING SKILLS (same as RATCHET)

Honestly. If it weren’t for the 3 courage, DUDE COULD ACTUALLY HAVE A CHANCE TAKING OVER MEGATRON!!! He

strong.

He honestly doesn’t even need the apex armour tbh! And there are countless times he got defeated probably only because he froze in fear or else he could have absolutely fought back and won!!

That 3 courage ruined him.

Also they don’t have Cliffjumper too and that is very unfair tbh cause Skyquake also appeared for only one episode but got his, and pretty unfortunate cause I really wanna see how strong exactly Cliff was before his death.

#transformers #Tfp #tfp characters #Japanese tfp #transformer prime #Tfp analysis #tfp breakdown #tfp knockout #tfp arcee #tfp optimus prime #tfp starscream #tfp megatron #tfp ratchet #optimus prime

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longing-for-rain · 1 year ago

Note

what exactly is Aang's toxic masculinity that you're talking about? there are no examples of such behavior on his part in the show. he is not an ideal person, he is a child who sometimes behaved incorrectly, just like all the other children in the show (Katara, Toph, Sokka), and this is normal.

in addition, we see how he regrets some of his wrong actions and gets better, while Zuko does not regret his toxic behavior, doesn't apologize and doesn't face the consequences of his behavior (racist jokes about Aang, demands that Katara forgive him as if he has the right to her forgiveness, an attack on Aang to "teach him a lesson" and many other things).

Hi anon, thanks for the ask! This is a very good illustration of what I was talking about in this post when I mentioned that I feel toxic men are overlooked more often for appearing “nice” than they are for being conventionally attractive.

No examples of toxic behavior in the show? What do you call this then?

I know what I (and the law) call it:

But you see, he’s “nice” right? This is just a misbehaved child, as you put it? Yah, no. He knew better and still did it because he was possessive; this whole interaction started because he was jealous that an actress playing Katara was interested in men other than him. And the show proceeded to frame the situation in a way that made Aang sympathetic, despite being the aggressor and the one behaving irrationally. How much more “toxically masculine” can you get than that? But he put on a flower crown once so we’re supposed to think he’s a soft uwu feminine boi (even though he was absolutely enraged that a female actress played him).

I also find it very interesting that you describe Katara and Sokka as “children” while Zuko is omitted from that list despite being the same age. Are you admitting you agree he’s more mature, or are you admitting that you hold him to different standards?

But, anyways. You asked about toxic behavior on Aang’s part, which I’ll get further into now that the most egregious example is out of the way.

Let’s break down what you consider unforgivably toxic behavior on Zuko’s part and compare it to Aang’s behavior in similar situations.

1. “Racist” jokes

I’m guessing this is made with reference to the “Air Temple preschool” comment. How exactly is this racist? In context, Aang is the one trying to force his beliefs on others, and Zuko makes this comment to a) tell him to back off and b) point out that Aang is, in fact, a child who doesn’t have any business telling Katara how to feel.

This point is particularly interesting to me, because it implies that the simple fact that Zuko doesn’t agree with the philosophy of Aang’s culture makes him racist. By this logic, Aang is also racist against Katara’s culture, because he clearly disagrees with her philosophy and is openly telling her that his culture is morally virtuous over hers. And well. That’s even more believable considering Aang’s previous reactions to Water Tribe culture.

Ah, yes. Playing with a cultural artifact like it’s a toy because you were upset about not being the center of attention for once, and telling everyone how disgusting you think cultural food is, what great ways to show the supposed love of your life how much you respect her culture!

I know your response to this point would be something like “uwu but he’s a kid he didn’t knowww” ok well. The same logic can be applied to any alleged “racism” on Zuko’s part.

2. “Demanding” forgiveness

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

Ah, yes. How demanding of him. He’s clearly so self-centered and only thinking about his own values and agenda here.

It’s not like he…

…told his friend how she’s allowed to process her grief and try to impose his own morals…

…or demanded to know if his crush liked him back, wouldn’t accept “no” as an answer, and forced a kiss on her…

…or told an abuse victim he was wrong to want to kill his abusive father for trying to commit a genocide…

…oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, but after actually watching the show it’s very clear to me which character doesn’t seem to regret or see the flaws in any of his actions at the end of the show, which is when all of these examples took place.

3. Training in the finale

“Attacking Aang to teach him a lesson” … wow, that’s a very dishonest way of phrasing that situation. I’m impressed, I have to say. I’ve seen lots of dumb takes from Aang stans over the years but this is a new one.

Well, luckily I actually watched the scene in context, so my reaction was the same as all the other characters’ reactions in canon when they learned the context behind this “attack”:

They agree with him. Yeah. Obviously, when nobody is taking training seriously when the world is about to literally go up in flames, you might need to do something to get their attention.

“But it was dangerous!” you might argue. Well… yeah. When magic and bending is in the equation, training in the Avatar universe has been shown to be somewhat dangerous at times. As an example, from this very same episode, Toph very nearly smashed Sokka with a giant flaming rock. That was way closer to hurting someone than Zuko was in this incident. If you’re going to fault characters for making their training exercises too dangerous, I guess Toph is mega cancelled.

Now back to Aang. What was his reaction in this situation? How did he react to the end of the world being days away? He ran away with absolutely no plan. Just like he did at the very beginning of the show.

I mean, think about it. This is a critical flaw (and toxic trait) in Aang that is literally never addressed, because he starts and ends the show the exact same way: he’s faced with a problem, he runs away from it, then he’s saved by an in-universe equivalent of an Act of God. Wowie, such great character development. Not fixing your core flaw and having a mythical plot device materialize into existence to solve your problems for you. Aang’s whole arc is a big blah, because the writing fails to address any of his flaws or have him meaningfully question any of his values.

Meanwhile, Zuko has consistently been a fan favorite because he’s the opposite. His flaws are meaningfully addressed, he does admit he’s wrong and fix his flaws, and his character shows a critically acclaimed change throughout the show. His arc is written so well that despite being a cartoon character, Zuko is widely considered the poster child for a good redemption arc across all forms of media.

So anyways, miss me with the double standards… there is a reason why Zuko is the fan favorite, and it’s not just his abs 🔥

#fandom salt #meta #zuko #katara #aang critical #canon critical #atla #zutara #anti kataang #ask #anon

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I really enjoy the last post you wrote involving the alternative outcome of Villain!Miguel x Hero![Reader]. I have another fun idea and it may be a little META.

Since there are a ton of Spider-Man 2099/Miguel O’Hara fics circulating around the internet…

How about a request with Spider!Fem![Reader] who secretly reads fanfics and smut fics she found from different universes in the multiverse? Let's say the [Reader] was reading fics involving her boss and the leader of the Spider Society, Miguel O’Hara since she is completely DOWN BAD for him. Then one day, she’s reading some smut involving Miguel and he catches her doing so.

He’ll probably tease her about it and things would escalate to something hot and spicy between the two Spiders.

- @club-danger-zone

*Looks around* Shall we break some cannon events? RIP SORRY FOR BEING CRINGE BUT LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO

Warning: Minors DNI, Smut, teasing, size kink, dirty talk

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

This was getting bad. You needed to learn some self control. You kept telling yourself that, but it was difficult. You had a big problem that involved your fellow Spider, the boss man, the big bad leader of the Spider Society: Miguel O'Hara.

You were head over heels for the man. He was the definition of FINE. Honestly, you never even knew that such a Spiderman existed. You, yourself, was a Spider-Woman. Like everyone else, you had your story and your life. The only thing you didn't have compared to the others was a person who loved you.

No Mary-Jane.

No Gwen Stacy.

Hell, no Peter Parker.

You were your own variant. It frustrated you. So, when Miguel brought you along to the Spider Society, you ended up simping hard for him. You had so many wet dreams about him. So many nights with whatever sex toy you had in your closet. It was getting really bad. You needed to get laid or find something to entertain you.

"Heeeeey, (Y/N), guess what I stumbled upon," Lyla appeared before you.

You had just entered one of the guest rooms that some of the Spiders used to crash for the night. You turned towards the AI, taking off your suit.

"That you found or Miguel?"

"Me! Miguel would probably shut this down if he found out," Lyla said with a grin, sending you something.

You were suspicious, but checked your mail anyway. You were very close to Miguel, in his inner circle, so you had access to Lyla. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you saw the file before you. Lyla just appeared before with with a confident grin.

"That word doesn't have a real Spiderman. Apparently the Miguel there is in a movie. Soooooo, there are soooooo many stories involving him. You're going to enjoy the smut~"

"I-I can't," You said as you opened the first website, "You are a horrible influence. I will not read these!"

---------

"Oh my god, keep going," You whispered as you clicked on the next chapter.

Your cheeks were bright red as a wide smile engulfed your face. You were enjoying all of this smut far more than you would like to admit. Hell, it made those dreams of yours even more vivid. While it did not help with your raging crush, it did get your mind off of currently wanting to fuck your boss.

"Yes!" You squealed in joy.

"Someone is in good mood." Miguel said as he walked by, "You've been focused on your watch for the past week. What could you be reading from another universe?" He asked.

Your face paled as you quickly hid your watch. Miguel would never talk to you again if he knew. Hell, he might kick you out of the Spider Society for conflict of interest. That was the last thing you wanted.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel questioned.

Miguel could sense your nervousness. His senses were higher than everyone's. Sighing softly, Miguel motioned you to follow him to his office. He had originally approached you for another reason. He could never ask you about it though. Once the two of you were alone, Miguel looked at his watch and started to type away.

"Let's see...(Y/n)'s watch."

"W-Wait! Miguel, before you do-"

"Oh-" Miguel immediately made eye contact with you, "I didn't even know there was a world like this. Very specific."

"I-I'm sorry! I was just curious and you know...The stories were just so good-"

"His tongue swirled around your clit?" Miguel's grin widen towards your flustered cheeks, "The sheer size of his dick made you feel full?"

"M-Miguel...Y-You d-don't-" You bit your lower lip, feeling your body warm up as he read the story.

"I never knew you were into all this smut, and about me none the less. That explains why you smelled extra sweet this past week," Miguel muttered the last part, watching you, "You know (Y/N), you don't need to read these."

You glanced towards Miguel, watching him approach you. Your heart was racing as his body pressed against yours, pinning you to the wall. You could feel his hot breathe. This wasn't what you were expecting. He was teasing you for reading porn about him!

"I could have helped you instead," Miguel whispered in your ear. You stared right into his lustful eyes,

"So...I'm not in trouble?" Your voice was low as you leaned closer to him. Miguel chuckled lowly, his thumb pulling against your bottom lip,

"Do you want to be?"

"Depends on the punishment," You felt dazed as you leaned towards Miguel's lips.

"Read the story to me," Miguel whispered as he licked your lips before pulling away.

You whimpered lowly, your body craving him. Why did he have to do this to you? Miguel was just so tempting. You were folding hard. Without hesitating you pulled the story up and you started to read the story.

"His hands gently stroked down y-your waist," Your breathing shuddered as Miguel's hands started to do as you read. "H-His hips g-grind-"

"What's wrong? Can't even read me a story?" Miguel chuckled lowly as you watched you melt under him.

"H-His d-dick-" You gasped lowly as Miguel started to grind his hips against yours.

You whimpered quietly as you felt your panties get damper and damper. Miguel's face was so close to yours. Miguel brought his lips to your neck as he held your hips closer. His fingers rubbing circles around your hips.

"What about my dick?" Miguel chuckled as he felt you trembled, "Such a naughty girl, reading such things about me. All you had to do was ask,"

Miguel slowly undid the bottom of your suit, exposing your soaked and desperate cunt. He lifted you onto his desk, demanding that you kept reading. Much to his amusement, you did. Miguel resisted a groan as he took his dick out, rubbing it against your folds. Your moans were so sweet.

"M-Miguel s-started....s-started to...to e-enter-" You stuttered, trying to focus on reading, but was getting distracted. You whimpered a moan as Miguel started to push his tip inside you.

"You're sucking me in so well, you've been wanting this for how long now?" Miguel held your waist, sliding his cock deeper into you, "I could have made you feel good so much sooner. Were you that oblivious to my gestures?"

You cried softly as you focused on Miguel's thick length stretching your walls out. Your back rested against his desk, muffling moans as you squeezed against him.

"I-I guess so?" You told him. Miguel scoffed lowly before thrusting into you, "Ah~ W-Wait~"

"After making me wait so long? After masking my office with your sweet scent so many times? Amor (love), I've waited long enough and so have you."

You cried out a series of moans as Miguel started to slap himself into you. His dick making itself at home within your pussy. It felt so right. Felt so much better than you doing it yourself at home. You wrapped your legs around Miguel's waist, wanting to get closer to him.

"Who do you think gave Lyla access to those stories?" Miguel chuckled as you cam against his dick, "I grew tired of waiting and wanted to give you a little push."

"H-Hah~ Mhm~ C-Can...C-Can we do what some of those stories did then?" You begged. Miguel raised a brow as he pinched your clit, watching you squirm,

"That and more. My naughty girl needs to be punished first."

You moaned to his wishes, having him use you for his pleasure. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, feeling your body grow hot again. With a grunt and a deep thrust, Miguel cam inside you. You shivered from the feeling, crying out his name.

"That's right. Now you're being a good girl," Miguel panted softly, soaking in the state you were in, "As much as I would love to continue, I have some reports to do. Why don't you pick your favorite story and we'll continue this tonight?"

"Mhm," You nodded towards his request, watching Miguel fix himself.

Miguel smiled before stealing a kiss from you before leaving. You nearly squealed as you fixed yourself up. Looking through all your saved stories, you felt a new fire light up inside you.

"Ohhhhh, I'm getting wrecked tonight~!"

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

Haha, hope you enjoyed this!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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ice-cream-writes-stuff · 21 days ago

Note

Girlie pop, to say im obsessed with ur LADS self aware mc au would be AN UNDERSTATEMENT!!! There's so many things that could happen in this universe with our oblivious non mc mc. Like imagine them trying to ask out like one of their "sidekicks" on a date and the LAD boys are like "no". And MC being a lobe interest to?!??! My bi little heart is melting. I love it so much!!!! I hope you will continue this serious (that's if u want to that is) keep up the good work honey ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Aw! Thank You! Here's a little something for your kind words]

{ERroR} - Side Story Featuring: MC, (Y/N) and Xavier and Rafayel

Rushing into the quaint little flower shop, you inhale a deep breath. Twirling around through the shop as if it was a dance club, eagerly taking in the sights of different flowers left and right. Including the soft fragrances gracing your senses!

"U-Um... May I help you?" A small voice pipes up by the register.

Turning your gaze to the red-head, a sharp grin breaks out on your face.

After chatting it up while snooping and buy a few things, you walk to the checkout counter.

"...So that's a dozen and.... Half of the stock..." He gapes at the giant bundle of flowers in your arms, a few wayward blossoms on your scalp as you gleefully hand him the amount to pay.

"You seem to really like flowers?" He puts away the cash in the register and heads to the entrance door. Opening it for you as shrug, walking carefully to the exit. "It's a gift, there's this guy... He's so..."

"So your buying him flowers?" "Kinda? There's also this one guy that lives by place, oh! And this girl that stops by my work! You might know her!"

"I... Doubt that."

You wink, grabbing a random flower from your strange bouquet, placing it on his curly locks.

"Hmm- Well, ya' never know!"

Waving you out, he watches you giggle, strutting out of Philo eagerly. The young man sighs, locking up shop once your figure went further.

After stuffing Rafayel's mailbox full of flowers, you head on your merry way. A few still stuck on your clothes and strewn about petals lingering in your hair.

"Hi Xavier,~!" You say cheerily, seeing his body in the distant. Going further, you block out the alarm from the city as people fled the opposite direction. The blonde didn't seem to hear you though, so you marched onwards.

Blinking at a Wander stuck in your path, you frown, eyeing it blankly as it seemed frightened by you. It sounds of fear becoming louder as you walk closer, alerting it's brethren. Yet none seemed to help their comrade, focused on their own battles.

"!esimORP I ,yako-o-o-o S'Ti"

You spoke in kind as it shuffles back, sighing. You walk through the mass, ignoring the sounds it made. The small Protocore drops into you palms. Stuffing into your shirt, you keep pace.

"Miss Bodyguard!" Rafayel whined with a huff, toying with the one of the flowers you had left the other day. The female in question rolls her eyes at the painter, begrudgingly giving her attention to him.

"Yes-"

"Where is that cafe?! Please!" He begged, his cheeks a light red at having to beg at this point. Putting his pride aside, eyes hugs the few flowers that weren't placed into vases or folded into books. Maybe he could use them for his next piece...

"No, not telling." MC crossed her arms, not wanting him to intrude on HER go-to pick-me up spot.

"Why not?" He groaned, flopping beside the female hunter as she stood up from the spot. Watching her gaze fondly at a specific flower, tracing over the green petals.

"I'm sure my admirer would love to have their cute gesture returned in ten-fold..." He states proudly. His eyes re-reading over the note that came with, silly and sappy to his delight. Holding up the card to the light, grinning at the faint print of your fingertips.

MC stiffens as he continues his daydream, "they'll happily jump into my arms at such a present."

"Not if I get them something nicer." She teases bluntly, seeing his haughty smirk drop in a matter of seconds. The two smile at one another, the challenging looks shared did not go unnoticed by his manager.

Ugly sobs leave you, hugging the blonde to your body tightly. He shivers at the buzzing his gave at the contact. Letting his head rest to the crook of your neck. Gaze sharp at those who wished to witness the action. "Xavier! You're okay!"

"I... Yes."

He tries to ignore the thoughts of you, wishing he could focus on this moment. Though the trail of Protocore's behind you...

[Another side story! Who knew? Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it! Thought's if I should include the event stories? Maybe?? I wanted to expand a little on Non-MC for this AU snippet. Just a little- I wanted add MORE detail. But ya'll will figure it out anyway! Thanks for reading!]

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hazbinshusk · 5 months ago

Text

husk x gn!reader. fluffy little ditty in which husk becomes more and more frustrated with the attention you give the hotel's other feline resident everyday. especially when said attention inadvertently activates his own cat-like tendencies. anonymous request. 1.4k.

You look up from your book at the sound of Husk’s annoyed little grunt, a small smile twitching across your lips as you watch him wave away KeeKee – who had wandered along the back of the sofa behind him and was now trying to step down over his wing and onto his shoulder. Warding her away while trying not to spill his coffee, he scowls, and you set your book aside, holding back a laugh. He is always so hostile towards the cyclopean feline, and while it’s easy to guess why, you still find it a little amusing.

Taking pity on him, you catch the smaller cat’s attention by clicking your fingers enticingly. It takes a lot of self-control to stop yourself from laughing again when both KeeKee and Husk’s ears perk up in identical flicks of curiosity at the sound and turn their attention to you.

“Hi, KeeKee,” you coo, holding your hand out to her. “Hi, baby!”

The cat lets out a little ‘prr?’ of interest, abandoning her attempt to climb Husk’s arm to jump down onto the coffee table between you and approach on dainty, silent feet.

Husk spares you a quick, grateful smile before settling back in his seat, eyes closing, coffee cup warming his thigh. KeeKee hesitates when she reaches the edge of the coffee table, her large eye focused on you and her ears pointed together so the little heart marking is complete. You click your fingers again, summoning her with the clichéd little ‘ps-ps-ps’ that always seems to work wonders on cats.

She hops across the gap and into your lap, and you grin, immediately reaching up between her ears to rub your fingers through silky fur. She purrs, pressing up into your hand in order to lead your fingers down her back. She curls up into your lap comfortably after a moment, eye closed.

“What?”

You look up, confused. “Huh?”

Husk is watching you with a raised eyebrow. “What d’you want?”

“…What’re you talking about?”

“Didn’t you jus’…” he frowns for a moment, and you’re surprised to see color appear in his cheeks. He clears his throat, busying himself by taking a sip of his coffee. He mumbles the next words into his cup. “Never mind. It’s nothin’.”

You watch him for a moment, bemused, until KeeKee presses her head up into your palm and steals your attention away. “Okay…”

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

“D’you think starting a fire would maybe get us out of the group activity tomorrow?”

“A fire?”

“Just a small one,” you reason jokingly, smiling up at the bartender in front of you, chin resting in your palm. “My back is killing me.”

“Mm,” he hums in what could be sympathy, if it wasn’t for the amusement curving his lips. “Poor baby.”

“Hey, you’re not allowed to call me ‘baby’ when you’re making fun of me.” you tell him, sliding your glass back across the bar top when he tilts a bottle your way in a wordless offer for a refill. “It messes with my head if I’m insulted and horny.”

Husk coughs as he chokes on his drink, and you grin. Wiping his mouth with the back of his paw, he shakes his head at you. “Fuckin’ Christ, doll.”

You snicker, leaning forward on your elbows over the bar. Husk’s expression warms into one of affection, and he moves to meet your lips with his…

Only to stop short with a deafening sneeze as soft white fur feathers its way under his nose.

“Fuck!”

You laugh aloud as Husk sneezes again, scooping KeeKee up out of harm’s way, the toy she’d brought with her falling from her mouth and onto the bar. She rubs her face against your collarbone contentedly, the offending tail still waving back and forth in a lazy rhythm. You grimace sympathetically at Husk as he turns to glare at the little creature.

“Fuckin’ cat…”

“Hey, none of that,” you admonish teasingly, you hold KeeKee up to meet her eye. She bumps her nose against yours. Your tone turns childish and playful. “She didn’t mean it, did you, Keeks? Besides, she’s just the cutest little kitty in all of Hell, aren’t you?”

You lean to the side to look past her and meet Husk’s unimpressed stare. “Well… second cutest.”

“Funny.”

“Aw…” you set KeeKee back on the bar, reaching over and wrapping your fingers around one of his suspenders and tugging him towards you. His stomach meets the edge of the wood, and you lean up again, successfully meeting his mouth in a sweet kiss this time. You pull back ever-so-slightly, smirking. “Don’t be jealous, baby.”

He grumbles something under his breath but relents and kisses you again, more firmly this time. You feel his hand come up to whisper against your cheek before a sudden, loud squeak shatters the moment and he pulls away with an irritated sigh. A tiny, cattish complaint sounds underneath it as he watches KeeKee bite down on the toy again.

You pout sympathetically up at him, batting the plush little mouse back and forth between your hands for KeeKee to chase. She did just that, and you giggle as she tries to smack her paws down on top of it over and over again. You notice the twitching of Husk’s tail, back and forth behind him, out of the corner of your eye, but you think of it as nothing more than his continued irritation with KeeKee.

You jump as Husk’s paw suddenly traps the toy beneath its claws, your eyes snapping up to his face in surprise. The bartender is staring down at his hand with wide eyes and dilated pupils, tail still twitching and what you can swear is the beginnings of a satisfied smile on his lips. There’s a second’s pause before he blinks, his brow furrowing. His gaze flashes up to meet yours, and he clears his throat, withdrawing his hand. “I, uh… jus’ not on the bar, okay?”

You try to hold back your amusement, giving him a serious nod. “Okay.”

He glares at you. “Shut up.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he says, pointing a claw at you. “Not a word.”

You toss the toy aside, Keekee bounding away after it. You stand, leaning over the bar to bump your nose against his. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you murmur, “Never, baby.”

He grumbles quietly, but that doesn’t stop him from catching your cheek as you turn away and bringing you back in, finally, for a real kiss.

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

“Stupid goddamned cat.” Husk groans into his half-gone whiskey glass before pressing it to his forehead in hopes that the ice-chilled glass will ease his headache.

“Hey,” you say softly, humor playing on your features. You open the door long enough to set the trashcan and the dustpan and brush outside before closing it with a quiet snap. “She’s not the one who got into my catnip stash.”

He frowns at you from beneath the glass. “She’s the reason you’ve got it.”

You’d come upstairs to find an incredibly stoned Husk laying on your carpet, the little plastic bag of catnip from your drawer spilled all over the floor. It had taken almost an hour to get him to sit upright, and another twenty minutes for him to sober up enough to stop trying to make out with your neck and actually tell you what happened.

“Who says that it wasn’t for you?”

He glares, and you chuckle, stepping across the scene of the crime and coming to join him on the bed. He was leaning back against the pillows, and he sets the glass aside as you crawl up beside him and curl into his side. He wraps his arm and a wing around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“From now on,” you promise him quietly, mindful of his nip-induced migraine. “This room is a cat-free zone, aside from those with bartending skills. Deal?”

He hums against your hair, lips still pressed there. “Deal.”

“And I also promise to not tell anyone that you greened out like a high-school kid after a pep rally.”

He chuckles despite himself, eyes closing as he tucks his chin up over the crown of your head. He exhales happily as he feels you press a kiss to his throat. “Much appreciated, doll.”

#husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel #husk posting #husk x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #my fic #husk fic #husk fluff

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queenimmadolla · 1 year ago

Note

Maybe could you write a dad Eddie x reader fic where penny wants to have a baby of her own so she can be a mom like reader

You were cuddled up to Eddie’s side on the couch, your toddler playing with her toys on the floor and your newborn curled in your arms, his face nuzzled against your bare breast as he nursed.

The TV was on, but you and Eddie had long forgone your horror and dark fantasy movies for child friendly films and shows like Sesame Street, which was currently displayed on the screen. It was far from your favorite thing to watch, for either of you, your daughter was entranced with reruns of the show, and had a special love for Kermit and Elmo.

“I’m telling you, there is no way they’re just roommates.” Eddie remarked with a scoff, during the Bert and Ernie segment.

“They so are! I mean, the romantic tension is obviously present but neither has acted on it yet. Ernie’s too oblivious to do anything about it, probably thinks it’s only one-sided, and if Ernie’s not showing his interest, Bert’s not gonna make a move.” You countered, sinking further into Eddie’s side. His arm was around your shoulders, hand stroking along your forearm before latching onto his son’s tiny sock covered toes and giving them a gentle wiggle to which baby Wayne curled his feet further into his body, depriving his father of access to his toes. It didn’t distract the little glutton from the task at hand, your baby just mouthed a little at your nipple, head moving around until it was in place before latching once more.

Eddie chuckled at that, watching with affection as his baby continued to stare up at you with wide eyes while he nursed, before his gaze moved back to the characters in question.

“Sweetheart, they are clearly in a domestic partnership, they’ve just grown very comfortable around each other. We don’t need to see their affection to know they’re in a relationship.”

“They sleep in separate beds, Eds.”

“Okay, you got me there.”

Penny chose then to get up from the floor, rushing over with the baby doll you’d gotten for her when you’d told her you were pregnant. She leaned against Eddie’s leg, resting her head on his thigh and letting him stroke over her curls before she pushed herself up and held the doll out to you.

“Is that your baby doll?” You asked, assuming she was trying to show it off and she nodded, continuing to extend it and you realized she was trying to give it to you.

“Hew you go, mama.”

You made sure your actual baby was secure against you, glancing down to meet his unwavering stare as he ate, satisfied grunts sounding from him every so often, before you took the doll into your free hand, “Oh, you want me to hold…her?”

You didn’t know what gender it was supposed to be, you’d heard Penny change it constantly.

“Uh huh!” She nodded, grabbing onto Eddie’s knee and using it to sway back and forth. Sounded simple enough, you could play along, “She’s hungwy.”

“You want to hand me her bottle then?” You could see the toy baby bottle, it had come included with, on the floor where Penny had previously been playing.

“No, you has to feed the babies.” Penny released her dad’s knee to poke at her chest with both index fingers. “Fom wight hew.”

You could hear and feel Eddie choke beside you, trying to muffle his laughter as you realized your toddler wanted you to breastfeed her doll.

“Oh. Um.” You tried to think of a way to get out of it, casting Eddie a glare when you caught sight of his wide smirk from your peripheral vision. “Brother is eating right now.”

“Udda one.” She pointed at your freed up, covered boob rather than the one your son’s wispy curl covered head was blocking for her.

Damn it, Penny was beginning to become too self aware.

Reluctantly, and very awkwardly, you held the baby doll’s plastic head against your other breast as Eddie literally started shaking against you. He might as well have just laughed outright with all the wheezing he was doing. Even Penny was casting him a few side-eyes.

You turned your head towards him, eyes narrowing as Eddie continued to try to muffle his amusement behind a fist, face turning red with his effort but not even his fist was large enough to conceal the grin at your expense.

Penny, however, looked like the cat who got the cream, happy you were once again complying with her demands.

You thought you’d be able to put the doll down once she went back to the toys, no luck, she’d apparently come over with the intention of watching you ‘feed’ her baby. So for like seven entire awkward minutes, you held the doll to your boob, its plastic face pressed against it, while she stared at you and Eddie suffocated on his amusement. The reason he didn’t just openly laugh at you was because he knew Penny would get mad at him. He could tell this wasn’t a game to her and if he laughed at something she didn’t intend to be funny, he’d have an angry toddler on his hands.

Then you’d be the one laughing.

Mercifully, Penny eventually grew bored of watching you and reached up for the doll, which you were all too happy to give back. “You want to burp her?”

The answer to that was no. Penny adjusted the baby doll in her hands until its face was smashed to her chest. It was half her size, but her motive was clear as she beamed up at you.

She was imitating you.

“Look! I A MAMA, LIKE MAMA!”

#pennyverse #pennyverse asks #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #dilf!eddie munson #girl dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #dad!eddie munson #joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson x reader

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demonicbaby666 · 6 months ago

Text

Remember Me

One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, brief smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, cheating, fingering, oral sex, brief mention of blood, loss

Summary: JJ has lived her whole life pleasing everyone, even if it was at the cost of her own happiness. But one day, she stumbles upon an unexpected opportunity to stray away from her norm, have a conversation, a relationship away from everything and everyone she knows. Why wouldn't she take it?

A/n: I'm sorry in advance. That's all I can say, really.

JJ fits the mould. She always has and always will.

When she was younger, she played well with other children, smiled as she let girls braid her hair, and wept when the boys tugged at them. She listened when her parents told her it was just how young boys showed interest and that she should be flattered. Though she didn’t quite understand, the little girl managed to take it on the chin and try her hardest to focus on the compliment of having her scalp ache. That was until one boy, who showed ‘interest’ in her regularly, had yanked her poorly done braid for the third time in ten minutes. The whole ordeal ended with JJ towering over him as he fell back onto his butt and cried ugly, bulging tears.

She cried in the car the whole way back home when her mom came to pick her up from daycare, shouting at her for acting so brutish. ‘You think any of the boys will like you now?’ That’s what her mom had said, but JJ didn’t care; she had her friends who took care of her, made her laugh and would only ever get feisty when it was time to share a toy.

“Even the girls will be scared to play with you.”

She never did anything like that again.

When she was in high school, she was the ‘it’ girl. Her grades were stellar, alongside her love life, as she took on the duty of dating the soon-to-be prom king. She was the perfect girlfriend, never mind that there was always an excuse not to let him get her naked when they were alone. Usually, it was that she wasn’t ready; she didn’t tell him that behind closed doors, she got in enough practice with her best friend, but that’s all it was. Practice. It wasn’t that she got butterflies when soft lips kissed along her neck rather than the gruff of unbalmed lips or when manicured nails showed her how it felt to have her collarbones traced rather than calloused fingers fumbling with her bra strap. Practice.

She married a bland man with a thick accent and a proclivity to make sarcastic comments, and together, they had two kids, forming the perfect nuclear family. How perfect, and entirely not macabrely mundane. She should have been happy and content. What she had was the dream, the societal one at least, that her younger self would have gushed at. ‘You’re so lucky,’ she could hear her little voice say, see the innocent smile on that unknowing face that was forced to gush at having her pigtails yanked and feel pride in her youthful stance. It made her stomach lurch.

Then, one day, she’s sat on a park bench, crying. She can’t remember why, only feels the anguish crack in her chest and force another stream of tears down her swollen cheeks. Vaguely, she registers she’s not alone, hears the dull creek of aged wood and tries to simmer her sobs to sniffles. When that doesn’t work, the blonde is forced to turn her stiff neck and face the embarrassment of being caught crying in public head-on. Maybe tell this stranger to pick another bench, to mind their business, anything that would get them away. Seriously, there were at least two free benches, and she couldn’t fathom why anyone would approach her in this state when there were very clearly other options.

As the dismissing words touch her lips, they fade away, eyes batting to try and halt the swarm of tears in their tracks. Soft. JJ notices that you’re soft. All she’s known her life is rough, sharp, brittle edges, from the itchy feel of a beard scratching at her chin to the unpleasurable rutting of a man inside her, finishing in twenty seconds. But your hands are not callused when they lay upon the skin of her upper arm, and your smile is not unsure as you gaze into her azure eyes. JJ doesn’t understand why her stomach is flipping, but she suddenly feels okay. She doesn’t hate herself for it. Not like how she hates herself for everything she feels.

“Are you okay?” you ask, light and open, and she hears your voice's unmistakable melody of genuine care.

The confessions are spilling out like water from a faucet, and before JJ is even aware, she’s run through her whole life and has mapped out every wrong decision that’s led her to a life of service. She realises things about herself she’d have never seen had it not been for your impartial presence and attentive nods.

You do your best to weigh in, encourage personal discoveries and meet them with reassurances and words of affirmation. You watch as this gorgeous, kind and intelligent woman unravels right before your very eyes and see the moment everything clicks. You click. You’re an outsider to the normalcy she has to display daily, and you’re not witness to the constant acts she performs to appease her husband, colleagues, and even her children. You’re a taste of what it's like to be able to simply exist away from expectations and scrutiny.

She places her hand over the one you have on her arm, brings it down to rest in her lap and traces lines over the creases of your palm. There’s something about how you look at her; it makes her feel young again. She doesn’t care about anything anymore, wants to follow her heart rather than her brain, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel guilty about it.

That’s how it starts. Every week, JJ finds herself drawn to that bench, drawn to you. You talk, and she forgets; she forgets about everything except what it is to be herself without bounds. It truly is a beautiful sight. She’s utterly, undeniably and inextricably beautiful.

You smile so brightly, from cheek to cheek, as you watch her laugh, watch life come back to her with each little confession she gives away. Like when she was younger, she vaguely remembers making her Barbies kiss, or in high school, her boyfriend's only redeeming quality was his long hair that he'd let her maintain or that only a few weeks ago she had to clear her search history after deep diving into, well that one she never finishes, but from the crimson hue that appears over JJ’s cheeks you’re able to put two and two together. The story of a new colleague joining the team rattles you the most.

JJ speaks of how she often found herself transfixed, admiring her mannerisms, her wardrobe, and how her brown eyes shone in a particular light. She tells you how sometimes, even now, when she catches the brunette's eye, her heart still leaps a little, but it’s emptier and accompanied by the bitter taste of regret. There’s a sadness when the blonde lets that confession slip, like a piece of her breaks every time she talks of it, reliving the same moments over and over, and you manage to push aside your jealousy in favour of offering her a reassuring smile and comforting embrace.

Weeks turned to months, and soon, JJ found herself staring at you in much the same way she had her junior high best friend. She knows the feeling but resents the accompanying guilt that only worsens with joining your lips together and later looking her husband in the eye. Her whole life, she’s done the right thing, followed the rules, did as she was told, and ever since meeting you, she’s realised all it had amounted to was endless longing. In a fucked way, she thinks of you as her saviour, a chance to see that her deeper desires should have always been fuel enough to turn a blind eye to so-called duty.

Of course, you’ve come years too late when she’s forged bonds that, in her eyes, will always be unbreakable. It helps to think that way; it hurts less when she takes your hand and leads you into a hotel suite booked under a pseudonym. You smile nonetheless the whole walk through the corridor, ignoring how there’s an odd smell in the air, how the carpet is sticky and stained, and how, between clasped hands, you feel the presence and prick of JJ’s wedding ring.

She needs this, and you want to be everything she needs, everything she feels, and everything she wants you to be.

And you are. And you are more.

You show her what it is to be devoured, to kiss slowly and languidly, to have sex without it feeling like a race, to be filled roughly and want it, crave it. She makes sweet sounds as you trail your lips down her body, seal them over her clit and lap at the tender bundle of nerves, never once looking away from who’s granting her this immense pleasure. By the time she’s cumming for the second time, she’s no longer chanting your name but words of gratitude, two single tears rolling down each cheek as she allows herself to feel the aftershocks of her orgasm before the euphoria dwindles.

It doesn't take long for the blonde to recover, and when she does, she’s leaning over you, an eager look in her eyes shadowed by a hint of uncertainty. She’d never done this before, never been with a woman. Sure, she’d thought about it, seen it, but it had always felt impossible. Yet here you lie beneath her, smiling, waiting, and looking so fucking perfect she knows if she doesn’t get to touch you, she’ll never forgive herself. That thought alone has her hand working its way between your legs, delving between folds to coat her fingers in your arousal before she pushes two inside you.

Again, she doesn’t look away. She can’t.

She watches the veins in your neck strain as you throw your head back, watches your stomach roll with every thrust of her fingers, watches as your lips part and your jaw shakes and can’t stop herself from kissing you when she hears you moan. She can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but she knows, she just knows. Knows that when she curls her fingers, you’ll whimper; when her thumb brushes over your clit you’ll gasp; and when she sucks a mark to your breast, you’ll cum.

She whispers more confessions into the night after, and you feel a little like an intruder until she nestles against your side and presses soft kisses to your shoulder before she lays her head down on it and runs her fingers through your hair. She can’t stay; you both know it, but don’t say it. Instead, you dress each other between tender touches.

It’s the same hotel the next time and the time after that, every time. You’re used to the stale smell in the corridor and have even contributed to the array of stains. It was after you and JJ had indulged a little too much at a local bar and discovered, in the right company, that the blonde was rather handsy with wine sloshing around in her brain. That night, you both sobered up rather quickly; rushed touches turned slow, harsh kisses turned light and for the first time in both your lives, you made love.

She insists on paying for dinner when you go out, and you temporarily forget that she has a family waiting for her at home; take in the new way she’s curled her hair and done her makeup. Her smile stretches so wide it’s a painful reminder that no one’s paid enough attention to her to mention these things, and you vow that for however long you get with her, you’ll be the one to notice these things, make her realise she deserved to have the little things pointed out and praised.

Once the bill’s paid, JJ suggests a stroll, and you agree because it’s not outside the norm to walk to the hotel, paper trail and all. But as the blonde takes the lead, gently guiding you forward, you realise you’re walking to another familiar staple in your and JJ’s story. She’s first to sit down on the park bench, and you don’t hesitate to join, tucking your body into her side to ward away the slight chill of the evening breeze.

“Cold?” JJ asks, a little confused, what with it being July. Still, she wraps an arm around you and pulls you perfectly closer, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“A little.” you smile. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

It’s quiet for a while, and both of you are content to exist beneath the glowing stars together. That’s until you hear a text alert from JJ’s phone that could only be from one person. You’re not angry as you pull away from JJ’s warmth, allowing her to reply to her husband in peace, though you can’t deny that a sudden hollowness fills your chest.

“Do you forget about me too?” JJ whips her head up and shoots you a look of confusion. “When you’re with him, do you forget about me?”

She places her phone down, and there’s a small victory in discovering you come first, at this moment at least. Soft hands land over your cheeks, and JJ pulls you into a slow kiss filled with so much devotion it leaves you dizzy. You pour just as much into the kiss as you’re being given until you’re both too desperate for breath that you’re forced to pull away. You don’t stray far, meeting JJ in the middle as you lean your foreheads together and feel each other's breaths steady.

“How could I forget you when you're all I think about?” JJ whispers, pecking your lips before she continues, “I miss you. When you’re not beside me, I miss you.”

It’s what you needed to hear - reassuring enough to put your thoughts aside and allow JJ to kiss you again, to guide you to the place you ended most nights together, and to undress you. This time, JJ asks for no pleasure on her own and demands only yours. She doesn’t let you touch her, not until she’s had you cum over her fingers thrice already, has her head between your legs and her tongue inside you. Only then does she guide your hand to her hair, feeling bad for the crumpled bedsheets she’s sure you’ll rip anytime soon, allowing you to push her further into your sex. She laps hungrily like she’s starving for air, and you’re the promise of full lungs until you’re blissfully fucked out and spent, pushing her away and begging for breath.

When JJ crawls back up the bed, the pride clear as your slick on her face, she pulls you half on top of her and holds you tighter than she ever has before.

“Please, don’t forget about me,” you mutter over her heart, squeezing your eyes shut.

On the walk home, you grind your SIM card into the tarmac pavement till it’s unrecognisable. You walk past the park, past yours and JJ’s bench and let yourself cry ugly tears before smashing your phone against the ground and allowing the glass to cut your hands.

It’s easier to do knowing you won’t face the consequences for long. You know she’ll find someone who’ll love her just as much as you do, and the thought fucking stings more than the physical pain you’re in.

You think to yourself that JJ was probably too caught up in what she wanted you to be for her that she never really and truly saw you. She never saw the paling of your skin, noticed how it became easier to mark you or looked away from your kind eyes to the bags beneath them. But in a weird way, you’re okay with it, because you got to be what JJ needed you to be. And maybe that was your purpose. Perhaps that’s why you didn't go straight home months ago after you’d received the test results from the hospital; instead, you walked to a nearby park. Maybe all along, your last months weren’t meant to be yours to live; instead, they belonged to someone else, and lord knows, JJ got more use out of them than you ever could.

It’s a nice thought to drift off to, even if the monitor next to you beeps a little too loud, a little too slow, you tell yourself you were something to someone. You were, you are someone she won’t ever forget.

—

She’s crying again, in the same park, on the same bench, except you’re not there this time. Her hands are bare of jewellery, and she wants to be happy about it, but you’re not here. Her eyes search the barren benches, and she's repeatedly calling out your name till her throat is raw and blistered. JJ doesn’t know whether she’s cursing you or calling to you; she only knows that this is freeing, that each time your name leaves her lips, it feels like reopening a flesh wound. She keeps going till her lips are chapped, till she cold starts to raise goosebumps over her arms, until the setting sun glints off something in the corner of her eye. She looks to her side, catches a metal plaque on the head of the bench she’s never seen before and traces her fingers over the familiar letters until everything starts to make more and less sense.

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