#so i’m not sure if the 500 is by grace but the rest of them are

[tyresdeg]

indycar’s 2024 posters

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Mira congrats on your milestone!! I wish I was good at coming up with requests… hmm… do you ever get more ideas for pomegranate ink? Maybe a scene of them much later in the future? I loved that fic so much ☹️ I hope they’re happy and living a super fluffy adorable life after all they went thru 💔 (can you tell I’m still heartbroken over JJK leaks) - @yutaleks

── CLOUDS

Synopsis: A snapshot of your life with Yuta Okkotsu, some time after the events of Pomegranate Ink.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.9k

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, kind of angsty, yuta is insecure, yuta is fundamentally different because of what he did for reader, spoilers for the ending of my ultra mega long fic pomegranate ink (which you all should definitely read)

A/N: on this blog we pretend like the jjk manga doesn’t exist and pomegranate ink is canon LMAO 😭 i haven’t thought much about what y/n + yuta’s life after the main story would look like hence why this is so short, but aleks i hope this heals your yuta-loving soul a bit!! ty for requesting and also being like. my first tumblr follower ever i’m pretty sure 🥹🫶🏻

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Yuta was rubbing his eyes again. He did so frequently — it was a new habit he had picked up, ever since that final battle against Sukuna. They itched sometimes, he told you, because they were trying to see something they no longer could.

Ever since he had brought you back to life, Yuta had been a normal human. Like Maki, he couldn’t see curses, but unlike her, he couldn’t even sense them, their presences nor their effects. His movements were dulled and slow, and he was far clumsier than he used to be. You knew it frustrated him, the blindness, the childish tripping over his own feet when he was so used to having a sleek body that possessed the grace of a jungle cat.

It wasn’t just his cursed energy that had been depleted. His strength, too, was all but gone. His hands shook when he tried to hold his katana, and although he once was able to carry you around effortlessly, it was now a struggle for him to lift you even a few inches off of the ground for more than a couple of seconds. 

He had given up everything for you. You hadn’t understood the magnitude of it until you saw it in action — he was so prone to downplaying his suffering that you all had dismissed it at first. So what if he couldn’t see curses or use his technique anymore? That only meant he was safer.

But giving up a cursed technique was something unprecedented and new. None of you could have been prepared for what it would do to him. Ieri’s theory was this: because a cursed technique was engraved onto one’s brain and soul, the loss of that energy would immeasurably alter one, had immeasurably altered Yuta, permanently.

Once, his memory had been nearly photographic. Now, he was forgetful, requiring reminders about birthdays and anniversaries and appointments. He no longer seemed so deadly, either — there had always been a malevolent aura following him, a sort of viciousness to his otherwise-kind demeanor that made him so frightening, but now, he was so unassuming and gentle that it was impossible to imagine anyone cowering from him like they all used to.

His eyes bore the most significant shift. They used to be a blue like poison, sharp and dark and predatory in an uncanny way, but now, they were faded and gray, sensitive to the sun and entirely unable to see the world to which they had once belonged. He blinked a lot more, too, and Ieri suspected he might need glasses in the near future — not to see curses in specific, but just to be able to see at all.

“Stop that,” you said, pulling his hands away from his eyes before he could turn them bloodshot. “Ieri said it’s not good for you.”

“Sorry,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut so that the momentary pressure could relieve the discomfort. Resting your palms against his temples, you used your thumbs to soothe over his eyelids, kissing his forehead as you did so. “I’m sorry you have to take care of me. You’re the one who just came back from a mission.”

“It’s okay, Yuta. I don’t mind. It wasn’t a particularly difficult assignment; any curses left have gotten so weak that even an untrained first year could take them on and win. We should finish the clean-up job within the year,” you said.

“I should be out there, too,” he said. “I should be able to help. Maki can do it without a cursed technique, so there’s no reason for me to be like this.”

“Maki has a Heavenly Restriction. It’s a bit different than not having a technique or any cursed energy at all,” you said, as gently as possible. It was difficult for Yuta, who preferred shouldering the world’s burdens on his own, to sit back and watch as the rest of you fought and he stayed behind. Maki, Toge, Yuji…even Noritoshi and Elakshi had returned from their trip abroad to help in your efforts. Every remaining sorcerer had dedicated themselves to the cause, so that you could eradicate the remaining curses and then move on with your lives.

But Yuta Okkotsu was no longer a sorcerer. He was a normal person, and normal people had no place facing off against curses, especially when they could not so much as see them. In this manner, he was weaker than even your mother, who as of late had dedicated herself to running a charity caring for the displaced survivors of the Shibuya and Shinjuku incidents.

“I was the second strongest sorcerer in the world,” he said. “Now I’m nothing. I swore I would always protect you, and I can’t even do that anymore. You’re the one who has to look out for me.”

“You brought me back to life,” you said. “There’s nothing greater that you could do for me than that.”

He wrapped his arms around your midsection, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse. It was another new habit of his — now that he could not use cursed signature detection to constantly be aware of your continued existence, he had developed an obsession with feeling your heartbeat, that steady rhythm which reassured him that you were still alive.

“Do you resent me?” he said.

“Why would I resent you?” you said, running your fingers through his silky hair. “Yuta, what could you possibly have done that would make me resent you?”

“When you brought me back to life, you were unchanged. You didn’t become weak; if anything, it made you stronger. It wasn’t like that for me. Don’t you find me pitiful? I couldn’t even resurrect you properly. I had to give up so much to do it. You must find it humorous,” he said. “You must think of me as some half-rate sorcerer.”

“Of course not,” you said. “What you did was ten times as impressive as what I did. I had Rika helping me, and your own natural Reverse Cursed Technique, and of course the heightened emotions which fueled Composition. Beyond that, Composition as a Reverse Cursed Technique was designed for such feats. You had none of those advantages, and yet you still brought me back. That’s not half-rate; that’s the kind of thing that only happens in myths and fairytales.”

Something scalding splashed against your skin, and then you realized that his body was shaking in your embrace. He was sobbing, clinging onto you in a rare display of weakness. Yuta hated falling apart, and he hated falling apart in front of others even more, yet here he was, doing just that. He always told you that he was supposed to be the one that others relied on. He wasn’t supposed to be the one that crumbled, but of course, no one could say strong forever.

“Do you still love me?” he said. If he had held you like this a year ago, then his grip would have crushed you, but now, it was you who had to be careful with your power, with his softer body. “Y/N, do you still love me?”

“Yes, how could you question that?” you said. “I love more than anyone.”

“You loved Yuta Okkotsu,” he whimpered. “Yuta Okkotsu, special-grade sorcerer. Yuta Okkotsu, who was powerful enough to save you from anything. I’m not him anymore. I’m someone else. Someone weak and stupid, who can barely see and whose body always aches.”

“Hey,” you said, holding him at an arm’s length, using the hem of your shirt to dry his tears. “Hey, hey, look at me. Are you looking at me?”

His eyes, the soft color of clouds, settled on you. You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve that kind of trust, that kind of affection or devotion, but you did the best you could with it, holding his face in your hands and squishing his cheeks fondly.

“Yes,” he said.

“I didn’t fall in love with what you have up here,” you said, knocking on his head lightly. “Nor here, nor here.” This was accompanied by pinches on each of his arms. “What I cared about, what I still care about, is this.”

You placed your hand on his heart. He tilted his chin to gaze at it, and you took the moment to flick him, earning you a small whine.

“My heart?” he said.

“Your heart,” you agreed. “In all the world, I don’t think there’s any other that could claim to be its equal, and that’s a fact independent of your cursed technique or your strength. I’ll always love that heart of yours, Yuta. There’s nothing you can do that’ll stop me from doing so. Change your name, change your face, change everything else about you — I’ll recognize it all the same, and I will love it regardless.”

“Do you mean that?” he said.

“I’ve never meant anything more,” you said. “I love you for who you are, not for what you can do.”

“You really, truly are sure of that?” he said.

“How many times do I have to say it? How many words will it take for you to believe me? I love you, Yuta, I love you, I love you, I love you. Is that enough, or is there something else you’d prefer?” you said.

“There is,” he said. “There’s something else I want you to say.”

“What is it?” you said. “You only need to tell me, and I will.”

“I know I’m not strong or capable anymore. I can’t promise to protect you, and it’ll be more work on your part than anything, so I understand if you don’t want to do it,” he said. “It’s a terrible deal for you.”

“Huh?” you said. He avoided your eyes, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, velvet box, opening it and clearing his throat.

“I’m delicate now,” he said. “But if you’ll still have me, even in this condition, then…?”

“Are you proposing?” you said. He nodded shyly.

“I was going to wait to do it until after everything with the curses was resolved, but I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he said. “I guess I kind of got caught up in the moment. I’m sorry.”

I wouldn’t have before, he seemed to be thinking. Before, I would’ve been disciplined enough to deny myself that joy until the perfect moment.

You didn’t want Yuta to ever deny himself anything again, though. He had given you everything so that you could have a second chance at life; it was only fair that you spent the rest of that life with him. It belonged to him already, anyways. Every thump of your heart, every breath in your lungs, every thought in your mind…they were all his.

“Don’t apologize,” you said. “It’s perfect. This is perfect. Everything about it is.”

“Really?” he said dubiously.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, it’s perfect, and yes, I’ll marry you.”

He swallowed, and then slowly, he slid the ring onto your finger, with all the painstaking care of a surgeon. Then he blinked up at you, frowning when tears of your own welled against your lashes.

“Is everything okay?” he said.

“It’s more than okay. I’m happy,” you said. “I’m so happy that I can’t help but weep. I never thought that I could be so lucky.”

You wished that you could tell your younger versions that the two of you would end up like this, that everything would work itself out in the best way that it could, that eventually, you would again find something like happiness. Maybe it was true that you both were different now — Yuta was missing his cursed technique, and you could never again simultaneously heal and fight — but you had made it. Somehow, despite everything, despite all that you had lost, you had made it.

In the end, what more could either of you ask for?

[sapphiewritesstuff]

Hii! (If it’s okay) Can I please request a Soft Yan!Namor x fem!human reader where he’s super soft with her and convinces her to stay in Talokan with him and be his Queen? They both love each other a lot (she’s the only surface dweller that he has a soft spot for) and he gives her the herb to give her the ability to breathe underwater?🥰

Warnings: fem! human! reader, soft yandere, manipulation, hurt/comfort, willing reader, implied violence (not towards reader), not proofread

-For the first few months of your relationship, you and Namor would meet up on a beach to spend time together

-You would walk among the shore, watch the sunset, and relax in each other's presence until he returned to Talokan, and you returned to your home on the surface

-Everytime Namor watched you disappear from his sight (he watches you leave, he's protective.), his heart longs to take you home. Your home, your home in Talokan. Not the place on the surface that you call home

-Whenever he brings up the topic of you coming to Talokan with him, you try your best to change the subject. You're afraid, he thinks. You're afraid of leaving the people you care for, leaving your life behind.

-Everytime you reject his offer, he lowers his head and grabs your hands, nodding in understanding. He bites the inside of his cheek to hide his emotions, all his heart does is ache for you. He can't force you, he knows he can't, he wants you to trust him.

-One night, you blow into the shell he gifted you and sit on the beach. He arrives nearly instantly (he totally doesn't hang around near the beach waiting for you), and when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks, he is kneeling down before you.

-"What is the matter, my love?" He stares at you and wipes away your tears, placing a hand on the back of your head.

-You sob out, explaining a conflict that happened between you and a family member, one that had deeply upset you.

-At first, he feels rage, how dare they? He'll make sure they'll pay for causing you emotional distress.

-However, at the same time, he sees this as an opportunity.

-"You have so much love for the people around you, [Name], I admire that." You smile at his words. "They do not deserve the grace you give them, can't you see? Surface dwellers hurt and destroy, everyone of them except for you." You stay silent. "Here, I will take you to my kingdom, you may stay the night and rest." You nodded, he seemed to be the only person on your side at the moment, and you really didn't want to go home. It will only be for the night, right?

-The next morning you admired the murals he had painted, your attention being drawn to one in particular, it was a painting of you and him on the beach, it made you smile.

-When you woke that morning, he was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t pay much mind to it, though, being a king must come with a lot of duties.

-“I’m sorry, my love.” Were the first words he said when he returned. “I didn’t want to leave you. Did you sleep well?” You nodded and he smiled.

-You thanked him for allowing you to stay, giving him a sweet kiss that made him feel more alive than he’s felt in 500 years, you always make him feel alive.

-“Can you take me home, now? I wanna apologize to them.”

-Namor went silent.

“My love… you remember what I said last night, right? They don’t deserve you. You will be loved and respected here, as my queen.”

-Namor will bring up every time a surface dweller has wronged you if you decline his offer at first. When you finally give in (and you will, if you don’t want the world to feel the wrath of K’uk’uklan), he’ll be overjoyed, wrapping you into a tight embrace.

-“I promise you will be loved here, my queen.”

[not-krys]

[Repost] Starvation-Abby

Part of this set of WIP Wednesdays

Notes: Fluff, art stuff

---

The sound of paper crumpling and landing softly on the floor, while a familiar sound to Leonardo, the not so familiar sound following it awoke him from his midday nap, perking his ears at the sound of muffled frustration.

His little cara mia, really everyone’s at this point, she had been trying to draw a vase she had found in the hallway for a good hour now, each time ending in with the paper rustling and torn. He was starting to get concerned as the pile beside the girl grew larger and larger.

Grumbling with effort as he stood up from his napping place on the floor, he entered the sunny room, saw the rather alarming pile of paper on the floor, and a head of blonde hair resting on her arms, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

With the liquid grace of a cat, he picked up one of the crumpled sheets, smoothing it out until he could see the many attempts at capturing the vase’s likeness in front of the two of them. It reminded him of his time as a young art apprentice, ages upon ages ago. The telltale marks of a young hand trying to capture what they saw and transforming it, giving it life on a flat, unassuming surface. He smiled, caught up in his nostalgia.

After a moment, he lightly put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, startling her.

“Pretty sure that Comte wouldn’t care about the cost,” he said, “but paper is still expensive, cara mia. Using the back is also a viable option, if you hate the front that much.”

“It's… just frustrating,” Abby said, her voice quivering. “I can’t get it right.”

“Get what right?”

“The drawing… it… I can’t get it to look right.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

Leonardo set the paper on the drawing board, smoothing it out as best he could without smudging the pencil, and pulled up a nearby short table to sit on. After a moment, he changed his position to her right side, so he could freely use his left hand.

“Everything looks so… stiff.” Abby bit her lip.

“Well, it is a vase.” Leonardo smiled. “Not like it’s gonna suddenly jump in your lap like Lumiere would.”

“You know what I mean… You and Vincent can make any drawing look so… effortless.”

“Hmm…” Leonardo gently took her hand, tiny in his, and moved it across the page, taking her arm on a journey from one end to the other.

“Have you been taught how to draw with your shoulder before?”

“My shoulder?” Abby raised an eyebrow. “It’d be easier with your hand, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re worried about stiffness, yeah?” Leonardo said, moving her arm in the same motion. “You’re so clenched up and tiny so much of the time, it reflects in your art too.”

Abby watched as he guided her hand once again, making another long motion across the page.

“Try moving like this.”

“But the vase…”

“Focus on loosening your arm up first. Make marks the way you like. Your hand and wrist will thank you in the long run.”

He then released her hand, settling his in his lap. She bit her lip again, but turned back to her marks, unsteady at first, shaky and uneven, but she soon got the idea.

“It feels… weird. Doing it like this.”

“With a little more practice, you’ll be drawing much looser before you know it.”

“Will this really help?”

“Well,” Leonardo chuckled, “been doing this for the better part of 500 years. Hopefully I know what I’m doing at this point.”

He didn’t miss her ears turning pink through her hair.

“Other than just long lines, you can do circles too.”

He took hold of her hand again, guiding her to make big, loose circles.

“It’ll help you to get the lip of that vase right.”

“…Thank you, Leonardo. For helping me.”

“No need for thanks, cara mia,” he smirked, “We’re all here to help if you need it.”

[xmoriartea]

So Wachter doesn’t believe in normal ass delivery folks and instead sends her dumpy little spymaster to get caught by us because.. power plays? I guess? Who can say. 

But weird old Ernst after getting pinned in alley by four spell trigger ready bastards had a simple and lovely message to share:

       An ambassador of Ravenloft's coming to Vallaki.

See. Ismark was Burgomaster yes, but the newly formed city council currently only had three members which meant if there were ties with the four of them... no one could break the ties fairly. And Ravenloft was already growing agitated by the way the town was running after the coup and wanted things settled.

Which I’m sure a fake Rictavio would have gone SWIMMINGLY, but instead Tanner managed to simply convince some of the council to allow him to audit the meeting essentially. Alkali wanted to get involved, but after witnessing the black carriage from Ravenloft arrive with Strahd’s Chamberlain as guard... she decided it was best to not leave Ireena alone.

So far, we hadn’t even MET Rahadin. We had just heard about him from both Kasimir and Savid. And honestly, for a minute, Alkali was ready to try and play nice with Rahadin, try to get him on their side, see if he was loyal out of true loyalty or fear, your know? But... well... Rahadin is a bastard and that went out the window within minutes of meeting him.

But alas, we did not aggro Rahadin. Yet. Instead, Alkali went to guard Ireena and Tanner got dressed up and escorted Kalina as a +1 to Wachter residence and realized a miscommunication in delivery had occurred somewhere.

Just a totally normal, totally fine luncheon with four vampire brides, a wereraven innkeep, a possible cult leader, a recently-realized divine artificer, the brother of the woman the lord of the land wants to abscond with, and... Tanner.

While Ludmilla was definitely handling the politics of their visit with grace, there was definitely an unsubtle aura of “if you cannot decide on a fourth to create a check system, one of us will remove one of the current three” because hey. They just want an odd number to see things get done.

And on the other side of town, Alkali was trying to get what information she could out of a Ravenloft servant who was tending to the property the black carriage had gone to.

HINT: it was literally across the fucking street from Ireena and Ismark’s!! 

Which means the bitch Kasimir was still alive... 

As a sister and a woman, Alkali does not support sororicidal bastards!! She’s fully on Patrina’s side right now because if HER brother killed her, Alkali would 500% come back from the dead to kill him herself!! It’s justified!! Kasimir has no rights has far as she’s concerned, thank you for coming to her TED talk.

Because apparently Chamberlain also means mailboy and Rahadin came to deliver a very fancy ass ruby necklace and red dress. Both of which were quickly shoved back into a box with a plan of burying it in the hallowed garden later because — yeesh.

So. THIS Potion. It’s... basically a 5 hour energy coffee sort of nightmare creation from our favorite alchemist, Faraga. Tanner fucking mainlines them to get everything he wants done. It helps you stay awake without exhaustion. Alkali took ONE when she had to hallow the property and hated it. Tanner swears by the things and his weird little science brain wanted to see what happens when you give one to an already hyperactive vampire... girl could have vibrated through walls.

And that’s how Tanner Fensik became Councilman Fensik and Escher became 100% fixated on lesson plans for the rest of forever

TL: DR;

Following all that, after everyone got to reconvene and share wtf just happened, Alkali could not resist the temptation of mingling with the brides again. So while Ireena and Ismark stayed safe on their own property, Alkali (followed by the party who would wisely not let her go alone) went to welcome the brides to Vallaki.

This involved:

Terrorizing Kasimir by existing in his presence

Meeting Patrina briefly

Snooping with Anastrasya to find out why Kasimir wasn’t dead (apparently Ludmilla outvoted her and Rahadin, Strahd was too busy to care/notice his ex-fiancé wasn’t dead anymore)

Experiencing the worlds most hyper vampire woman until the potion wore off and she legitimately crashed

More dancing with good vibes and wine

And also a bit of realization that brides are not eternal - they were, after all, introduced as the CURRENT Brides of Strahd, and Alkali got just a little bit of a taste of that anxiety off of Escher when he wasn’t nose deep in lesson plans for a school not yet built

[countlessrealities]

imprvdente​:

Yeah, well, maybe she was drunk. 

She didn’t drink often, so it seemed that whatever strange alcohol Rick had served her had blurred her mind a bit. But she also enjoyed teasing Rick, and was pleased to see that her little impromptu quip had managed to fluster him for a short moment. A rare feat indeed, and a success she graced with a grin. And then, she also meant what she had said, even if the phrasing was more… festive than her usual pick-up lines. 

What was the point in hiding it anymore? They had kissed once, and then some more. Yes, Rick was infuriating, annoying, drive you up the wall insane, but what could she say? She had a type. This chaotic asshole made her want to slam him against a wall AND kiss him. 

At some point in their contentious relationship, it had made sense to keep this attraction to herself (and in fact, be in denial about it). It didn’t make sense now! Yeah, she wanted to fuck him. So what? She was 500 years old, she wasn’t gonna beat around the bush about it. 

“Well, hey,” a grin, “aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius? Don’t tell me you can’t… “equip my sleigh” with something?” She had started out with that very bad pun, she supposed now she had to commit to it. 

“If you’re so open minded, I mean.” Eyebrows raised quizzically. The alcohol probably played a part in how bold she was being, though she was usually quite bold anyway. Again, 500 years old and all that jazz.

Sure, these past weeks none of them had really voiced out loud the reality of their new arrangement (which was that a good way to shut up the other was to kiss them). And here she was, voicing it out loud. Offering more, actually. 

“But hey, I’m not saying we need equipment. I can be open minded too,” a short pause, “as long as I’m holding the reins.”

This time Rick snorted in open amusement at Fish’s words. The pick-up line had caught him off guard, as unexpected and unusual as it had been, but now that he had recovered from the surprised and decided to play along, he was ready not to lose a single beat.

Whether it was the alcohol, the still sort of new but well established familiarity between them or the fact that he was definitely in the mood for a fuck, it would have been hard to tell. Most likely, it was a mixture of all three.

“Y-You can bet it, baby. O-On both things,” he talked back, raising a brow as to mirror the woman’s expression. “Y-You might have immortality on your side, b-but me? I-I no fuckin’ boundaries when it comes to try shit out. S-So, if you can think of it, I’ve probably done it at least once. M-Maybe we should make a guessing game out of it sometimes.”

The wink that followed was pure, lewd filth, and his palm fully landed on Fish’s hip, giving it a light squeeze. He set down the bottle he was still holding and he pushed himself off the workbench, coming to stand right in front of her.

“An-And since I am a fuckin’ genius, I-I’ll have you know that I can equip your ‘sleigh’. Y-You just need to say the word...an-and state your preferences.” He wiggled his brows briefly, a sly smirking stretching his lips. “I-I can get you anything. E-Every shape, dimension, material.”

He let go of her side and rested both of his hands on the hem of the workbench, trapping her between his arms, crowding her against the piece of furniture, but still leaving a few inches between their bodies.

He wouldn’t properly touch her, not yet.

“I-I can get us the original version of equipment our sled currently doesn’t have,” he finished, eye falling half lidded as he purred out that particular word for emphasis. “F-For what concerns me, I-I’d rather stick to my current parts, b-but I’d be happy to switch things up for you. I-If you catch my drift.”

[sixosix]

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐀 𝐘𝐔𝐔: 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄

# fem!reader, noya and managers: a prequel, noya is his own warning, crushes, this fic is very dumb, wc 500

nishinoya takes a glance at you, and in the span of a second, hears wedding bells in his head.

“ryuu,” nishinoya begins, voice thick with solemnity. a shadow casts over his eyes, betraying the usual brightness that comes naturally to him. “take care of kiyoko-san, will you?”

tanaka scrunches his face in confusion before it drops as if he’s been slammed by a volleyball. he roars an alarmed: “are you dying!?” and shakes nishinoya back and forth by the shoulders.

“what?” nishinoya laughs, shaking his head haughtily. “my bro, my dude, ryuu—i’m talking about her.”

he points at the door, where the rest of the eyes followed.

shimizu waves once, a happy smile that you’d rarely see on her gracing her lips. “sorry to disturb you,” she says, as all the boys hastily disagree, “we have a new manager starting today. please be kind to her.”

a manager, nishinoya’s brain dumbly echoes. and then, louder: YOUR manager.

a choir of angels is singing to him and he bows his head in gratitude, pointedly ignoring tsukishima’s disgusted noise from beside him.

tanaka, as anyone would expect, starts flocking to the karasuno’s managers, fawning over them as if he’s kissing the ground they’re walking on—maybe he is—and effectively freaking the new manager out.

“hey,” daichi intones, “tanaka.”

tanaka yelps, bolting away like a spring.

shimizu smiles down at you while you’re looking up at her like a lost puppy. cute… nishinoya’s soul sings along with the choir. “you wanted to see him, right? i didn’t lie when i mentioned he’s back in the club.”

you look back at the boys, surveying them with eagerness.

wait, who’s back in the club?

and then you look right at him, as if it’s a magnetic pull—and nishinoya is stuck on his spot, wide-eyed. a deer in headlights. “nishinoya-senpai!” you exclaim, delight dancing in your eyes.

senpai.

…nishinoya-senpai.

oh my god.

tanaka clasps his hands together to pray for a fallen soldier.

nishinoya’s heart explodes—well, not literally, but also not figuratively because he sure as hell feels like it. “y-you know me?”

he tries to say it triumphantly. ha! take that! pretty manager acknowledged me and me only! kneel before me etc, etc. but his voice cracked and his face is too red to be cool.

“ah,” and then you tip your head forward for a quick bow, “yes. i—um, i saw your match. back at chidoriyama.” a fan! wait. you’re a fan!? “watching you play… inspired me to get into volleyball.”

ding. ding. ding. church bells sing again.

nishinoya gets on one knee right in front of you, “please be my wife.”

his future wife stammers a flustered, “ah, uh, no thanks?”

oh. duh. idiot, you don’t have a ring right now.

nishinoya watches as you, flabbergasted, get pulled around the room while the boys introduce themselves. and he swears he isn’t kidding, but you keep glancing at him just as much as he’s staring openly at you.

“wow,” tanaka says as he walks up from behind him. “she likes you. can i be your best man?”

“you will always be my best man, ryuu.”

you smile at them, and then make eye contact with him once again. “thank you for having me.”

someday, he’ll be able to say to you: i told you so. and he cannot fucking wait for that time to come.

[coffee-latte-sprite]

Failing Graces

Masterlist

Jason Todd x gn!reader

WC: 500

Warnings: talk of failure, anxiety

Request:

Hi!! Its me again!! I have a request!! It’s fine tho if you dont want to do it ^^

I request a scenario of Jason Todd with an s/o whos emotionaly strong most of the time BUT now they cant take their mind of the term “fail” ( i chose this bc its happening to me :P hahhaah usually it comes during exams…and im having an exam lawl, wish me luck!) Even if he tries to make them focus on something else it just doesnt work. They think abt it to much until at one point they cry thinking that they would just fail. (i cry bc of this most of the time lmaoo)

Yup, thats all! Hope you have a nice day and Take Care!! Thanksss <3@caffeineaddicted-noonie

Notes: HI! I’m so gald you gave me another request! And omg, can we be friends? I understand this so MUCH! And also, good luck on your upcoming exams!!

I changed the plot a bit, but I think it still works :)

Jason loved you for many reasons. There was something about you that made Jason weak in the knees and all giddy.

But, the number one thing he loved most about you, was your strength.

Your emotional strength to be specific.

He’s seen you endure a lot, but your emotional strength always impressed Jason.

He wished he had your strength, but he didn’t know he already did.

You are always there to share his burdens like he is ready to share yours.

That’s why Jason was in despair now.

He watches you as you break down crying, he sees the fight leave your eyes and you surrender yourself to pain.

Jason was stunned as you crumbled to the ground crying.

“I’M SUCH A FAILURE!” You scream through your tears.

That’s when Jason comes to his senses.

“Y/N!” He yells as drops to his knees and puts his arms around your frame and pulls you toward him.

“I’m such a failure!” You cry harder as you grip the back of Jason’s shirt and push yourself deeper into him.

“Y/N you are not a failure.” He says lowly. His hands start to stroke through your hair.

“But I am! I am!” You cry harder remembering your essay grade. The big, fat, red “F” in the corner made you sick.

“Just because you got one bad-”

You cut him off quickly, “No, you don’t understand! I failed! I'm going to fail again-”

Jason stopped your train of thought immediately, knowing exactly where you were going, “Y/N, listen to me!” He pulled you away from him so he could look into your eyes.

He was stressing internally, he wasn’t the greatest when it came to emotions, but he knew what failure felt like. He knows how you are feeling, he feels your pain, and has experienced it more than once.

“Y/N,” he rubs his thumb over your cheek to wipe away your tears, “listen to me.” He spoke softly.

“Your grades don’t define you, they aren’t even close to what defines you. What defines you, is your efforts, your actions, and your words.” He puts his hand with yours, he squeezes, making sure that you are in this moment with him, not going down the rabbit hole.

You sniffle as your tears slow down, welcoming Jason’s words.

“I know how you are feeling, scared, alone, angry at yourself, and feeling lost. I feel like that a lot, but,” he puts another hand on your cheek, “you helped me.”

You look up at him surprised, Jason smiles at you.

“Your words, actions, and comfort help me to understand that I’m not a failure, but that I was not ready for that next step.”

You smile to yourself, thankful for Jason’s heartfelt words.

“That’s what I’m saying Y/N, you were just not ready for that essay. You were spreading yourself so thin, that, that essay was what gave in your big plan of things. But, I promise you, that next essay, or anything else you do, you will ace.”

You hug Jason, he accepts.

“Thank you,” you sniffle again. Your forehead resting on his shoulder.

“Of course my love.”

[tumbledfreckles]

Absolutely!

She should not be doing this. She knows she should not be doing this. She'd been warned against doing this.

But really, Quidditch practice ended half an hour ago. Surely he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

Hope this works! <33

This has not been edited, and it should have been edited, but screw it, I loved this prompt, I've stayed up way past bed time to write it, I wrote 1800 words instead of the 500 I planned, so have it in it's unedited glory and don't judge me too harshly. It's late, but its shirtless James Potter May or Jumpers off for June or really, just a thirst trap drabble to get your week going well.

Lily knocked softly on the door to the locker rooms, her breath caught in her throat, a thrum of anxiety running in her veins. When there was no sound, no answering call, no bid to enter, she paused for only moments, before biting her lip and pushing on the door handle.

She should not be doing this.

Her footsteps were quiet as she made her way down the long corridor that led to the locker rooms. Doors of the unoccupied rooms were shut, her finger tips dragged against the names of each team as she went. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and then finally, at the very end, Gryffindor. Unlike the others, this door was set slightly jar, light seen through the gaps, but no sounds emerged. The team had clearly departed.

She knows she should not be doing this.

Lily gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door, wide enough for her to slip through. It closed gently after her, allowing her to lean back against it, hands still caught on the handle behind her. She clutched the handle for dear life, knowing she should turn it and go back through. Knowing that to go further into the room was a boundary she shouldn’t cross.

She’d be warned against doing this.

As expected, the locker room was at least empty. She’d never been in here before, not being on the team, and never before having anyone she’d wanted to follow into the abyss. The reality was as bad as Lily had imagined. Likely due to the graces and actions of the house elves, it was cleaner than expected. There were no used towels piling around, no dirty, soiled uniforms discarded. The walls were filled with posters and pictures of Gryffindor Quidditch teams throughout the years. Banners and scarves lined the players' open lockers, caught on the name plates fastened above each one.

Almost as soon as she noted the name plates, her eyes caught on one in particular. A name that had fallen from her lips more often than her own had this year. A name that used to come out with derision, but was now pronounced with warmth, with feeling, with an unexplainable but inexplicable feeling of joy. The locker below it was the least orderly of them all, clothing still hung on the hooks, shoes and boots underneath the bench seat in front of it. Shin guards and pads and flying goggles still littered the bench and shelf.

The captain himself was nowhere to be found however. The sound of running water drew her attention to another doorway, at the far end of the locker room. Steam poured out of that room, leaving Lily in doubt that it was the way to the showers. Somewhere she definitely shouldn’t be going. She could wait out here for him. She only wanted to check on him, close the loop on their earlier conversation. She felt guilty for leaving him hanging, but that was no reason to follow him into the showers, surely.

But, really, Quidditch practise ended half an hour ago. Surely, he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

With that solid, solid reasoning ringing in her brain, spurring her on despite a wealth of misgivings, Lily moved forward. Her heart was racing but her movements somehow remained slow, cautious.

“Potter?” she called at the doorway.

No answer came.

Lily shook her head, cheeks already turning red as she contemplated her next action seconds before completing it.

She was only two steps in when she pulled up short.

James stood under the shower, mere metres from where Lily herself stood. A low wall hid most of his lower anatomy, but his back was on full display. Water ran in rivulets over strong, broad, tanned shoulders. It drained off his elbows as James reached to scrub at his hair, a movement Lily had seen him do a million times across their seven years of schooling, but never when he was wet. Certainly not when he was otherwise naked. His back arched, showing the muscles down his spine, lifting the beginnings of the curve of his arse into view.

“Fuck,” Lily whispered, her mouth having gone completely dry.

Of course, while he hadn’t heard her earlier call, he heard her quiet swear. Or maybe he’d felt the weight of her entranced, intoxicated stare. Before Lily could remove herself from a situation she definitely shouldn’t be in, even if it was the most beautiful site she’d seen all day, all week, all year, James turned.

“Lil- Evans,” he said in surprise, jumping slightly, before shutting off the water and reaching for the towel resting on the edge of the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth- shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”Lily started, taking a step back, only she missed the doorway and landed against the wall next to instead.

It really wasn’t her fault she couldn’t focus.

If James’ back with a gift of meticulously carved marble, smooth skin and muscle that Lily just wanted to sink her teeth into, then his front was a bloody work of art. Well defined pectorals sat prominently, on his chest, surrounded by curved shoulders, impressive biceps that helped his brilliant throws on the field. Pools of water had collected in the curve of his collarbones, enough that Lily could have lapped happily to ease her suddenly restricted throat.

She’d seen glimpses of his abdominals before. He was always reaching for his hair, running a hand through the beautiful, silky locks, she couldn’t help but get flashes as his shirt, or t-shirt, or jumper lifted up. Especially when he was already stretching back across the couch, complaining about the Prefect’s schedule, the points schedule, or the meeting schedule. Any schedule really, just because he knew it would rile her up. So she’d seen his stomach from time to time. Knew his prowess on the Pitch couldn’t come from someone who wasn’t totally fit. But seeing it glistening, rippling as he moved, shadows from the dimmed bathroom lighting emphasising each curve, well…

It was really more than one girl could be expected to take.

“Evans,” James tried again, frowning as he finished wrapping a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower area toward her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Lily tried not to focus on how the twisted knot of the towel sat dead centre below his navel. How it drew the eyeline down. How the muscles in his sides pointed down like an arrow toward that knot, making her wonder what was underneath the knot.

“Uh,” Lily forced her eyes up. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

She pretended not to notice how droplets collected on his eyelashes, so much easier to see without his glasses. How his face was devoid of its usual smirk, concern etched across his face instead, furrowing his brow, straightening his smile.

“Sure,” James glanced around, “I was coming back to the castle, you could have waited.”

“I couldn’t,” Lily blurted, before she could stop herself. “I couldn’t wait.”

James quirked an eyebrow, but paused in his steps, now less than three steps from her. At this distance, she could smell him. He was perfumed by that familiar scent of pine and spice, but in the heat and the humidity of the room it surrounded her, consumed her. She tried to take a deep breath in, to focus and prepare herself, but all it did was allow the scent to overwhelm her.

“Well, have at it, Evans,” he encouraged. “I’m listening.”

“Well, before, earlier.. You, uh… you asked, well and I, you, I didn’t,” Lily sighed impatiently at her stuttering, rolling her eyes before realising that meant she couldn’t look at him. Tried to remind herself not to look at him, it was clearly too much to look at such a sight and string a sentence together. Much more of her blithering and he wouldn’t care for what she had to say, mad woman that she was.

“Still waiting, Evans,” James teased now, a small curve of his lips appearing now. He seemed to be realising what had her in such a fluster, and took another step forward. Within reaching distance. Touching distance.

“Oh, fuck it,” Lily breathed, and gave in.

There was no resistance as she reached out and snagged James by the hand, then his waist, then his neck. She tugged his head down, and it came easily until, with a final push on her toes, she crashed her lips against his. His mouth moved without hesitation, giving as good as he got, pushing her back into the wall with a satisfying oof, his teeth finding her bottom lip, pulling it until her mouth opened and the punishing kiss turned into something deeper, sweeter, more satisfying.

Lily’s hands threaded into his hair, before dancing down to shoulders, stroking along his chest. She couldn’t pick a place she wanted them to rest, so she just didn’t, and touched and admired and petted to her heart’s content. James didn’t appear to mind her cheek was cupped, her waist wrapped up with one of those delicious arms she’d admired. He was still warm from the shower, still damp from neglecting to dry off, and she could feel that heat pushing through her clothes, flattening them against her, allowing his touch to burn through to her needy skin.

Without meaning too, having not consciously thought the action through, Lily’s hand landed on the knot in the towel she’d been so focused on moments earlier. The action gave them both reason to pause, and James pulled back just enough as they panted for breath and stared at each other.

She’d never seen his eyes so black, the hazel almost completely hidden dilated pupils and a blazing fire that would have taken her breath, if only his lips hadn’t done the job already. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Lily’s eyes followed the movement closely, her newly acquired knowledge of the feel, the taste of his tongue, making her imagine in a way that was all too real, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

“You had an answer for me, Evans?” his voice was hoarse, husky, like he’d run a marathon in the seconds, minutes, that they’d been kissing.

“I hardly think it matters now,” Lily’s laugh was almost bitter as it escaped from her, as she pushed back wet hair from his forehead, brushing her thumb softly across the scar above his eyebrow.

“Tell me anyway,” his fingers brushed down her arm, tipped her chin up, catching her lips again for a brief but perfect kiss.

Lily sighed, kissed him again to stall, cupped his face with both her hands to make sure he was paying attention. She was only going to say this once.

“Yes, I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend.”

[keiarchived]

Hey, congrats on 500! Can I get Yandere!God!Hawks kidnapping priestess!reader from his temple to keep as his wife, including forcing immortality on her because she was his most faithful. -🧶 Anon

Thank you bub! ♥️ ALSO YES TO YOUR CONCEPT 🥴💦 thats fucking hot 🥵

yandere!god!Hawks x priestess!reader

warnings: yandere, dubcon/noncon, kidnapping, power abuse, manipulation, blood play, size difference kinda, cum inflation, master kink, no editing, sleepyish writing

words: 1.1k

For as long as you could remember, your people have always worshiped this red winged higher being; Hawks. A God of freedom and compassion. He is said to have gorgeous honey blonde hair that matches those sharp eyes, large scarlet wings that let him soar through the sky like a Phoenix. It is unclear how accurate these descriptions passed down generations of your family are, it could’ve easily been made up just to give everyone a clearer vision on the God they are worshipping. But only for you to find out your ancestors weren’t wrong, “So you’re the new priestess?”

The first time Hawks reached out to you, personally, shivers crawls down your spine as goosebumps scattered. His voice is smoother than you’d imagine, tone lay back almost to the extend of lazy and well he is as charming as people made him to be, there are no doubts about that. “I-I am and you are-“

“Hawks.”

It became some kind of tradition for this higher being to throw new priestess off guard whenever he could, they are new to this almost in a naive way. ‘I’m prepared for this.’ As most would tell their elder, but nothing could prepare them for the first time Hawks would reach out to them like he had done so many times before. After all, they will be working with him for as long as they could so why not have a little fun whilst he’s at it? Surely it can’t hurt anyone.

“You’re a cute one, quivering and looking like you’re about to cry.” Hawks taunts, lips curling into this playful smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you. Stalking over ever so slowly until your back have meet the cold wall, he had been observing you from a distance ever since you walked this earth. But you don’t know that nor do you know the very same God you’re worshipping have taken a personal liking in you, “I’m j-just surprised, no one told me you’d just show up like this. At least give me a heads up sign or something.” As expected, you are different from all those stuffy suffocating and he is amused. No one have spoken to him like this for a while, not a human like you at least.

This is going to be fun.

Hawks only ever make occasional appearances whenever a pristesss calls for him either for his help or just to make a offering, but lately he’s been dropping by more often than usual with the excuses of ‘there’s some business nearby I need to take care of’ whilst in reality Hawks came to see you.

“Who’s that guy?” Your guardian angel asks, eyeing the man up and down, wanting to do nothing more than just wipe that awful pink off his face. How dare he even attempt to flirt with you? When he knows you are his and his alone. “Just a childhood friend.” With a little bit of a crush but Hawks doesn’t need to know that, it’s not like you’re hiding it from him on purpose. “You wouldn’t lie to me would you little one?” Clearly, he is unimpressed by your answer. Having to study and observe you enough from a distance, Hawks knows when you’re lying and this is one of those times.

“Of course not.” Perhaps you should’ve just been honest, rather than to face the jealousy of a God.

Hawks is known to be a trickster among the Gods, so it was no surprise when he decide to appear out of thin air just as you and that so called childhood friend was getting way too comfortable with each other, scooping you right up as though you weight nothing more than a feather. “You’re coming with me and I am not taking no as an answer, little one.” Still baffled by what happened, the next you know you are gone. Nowhere near surface of the Earth but soaring through the sky, “Hawks!”

Not that he could hear you though.

There has only ever been a few people Hawks seems worthy to be his wife and to become immortal, spending forever with him, isn’t that wonderful? Countless of people had tried to impressive him whether that be Gods or mortals alike but no one is as perfect as you, body arching and quivering in ways he had never seen before. “Beautiful...” Hawks whispered, tracing your delicate looking spine whilst the other curls around those soft locks reminding him to be careful or otherwise you just may break whilst he continue to plungs himself into your welcoming cunt.

The only sounds lolling from your mouth are of nothing but pleasure and lust, of course you tried to reason with Hawks. Saying how absurd it is with what he have done, but Hawks have his way with words. He always do. Making you believe this is the best possible outcome, how he have his eyes on you for the longest time and want you as his wife because you are the most faithful as well as beautiful among them all.

“Cry for me baby, that’s it. Fucking scream my name.” A low taunting chuckle rumbled at Hawks’ chest, mercy is now a privilege. Expecting to be treated like a princess is nothing but a naive thought after the lie you fed him, “You want to be with me right my little priestess? Or would you rather have that pathetic of a man as your husband?” The blonde mocks, chuckles soon turns into a echoing laugh instead. Bouncing all those pillars like these sweet delicious moans , “Y-You! I want to be with you!” Shameless, where did your pride and fight go? Devoured by the same God who’s currently fucking you stupid, stretching you beyond anyone have ever before.

“Good girl.” Despite the roughness of his action, Hawks praises you. “Good girl deserves rewards don’t you think?” Who doesn’t like a little reward once in a while?

As if Hawks couldn’t get any more brutal and cruel, his rhythm soon became bruising against your hips. “Ma-master!” You cried, every nudge at that ring of muscle edges those tears to stain your cheeks further with every sobs passing thought those swollen lips. “Take it all my love, take it!” God, if only there is a way to describe this fullness as your belly well with his cum. Pumping you full and to the brim as those eyes rolls back, lips gaping with a silent moan. “Fuck... fuck fuck...” If that’s how Hawks falls from his grace, so be it. 

Fingers lodge between your plum lips, forcing them open as a devilish smirk stretch across his lips. “That’s it, drink up baby. Every last drop of it.” Baffled by what Hawks meant but it didn’t take long until you could taste the iron from his fingers, keeping your tongue pressed harshly against your jaw. Forcing ever last drop of his blood down your throat, drowning from this enteral crimson.

“Rest up for now, my love. We have a long day ahead of us.”  

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that. 

[vintagerain]

Let’s talk about Genshin 2.1 ✨

<Spoilers for the Archons Quests in Inazuma to completion so if you haven’t spoken to Yae Miko yet, you should probably leave.>

Right! I did make a Post earlier about 2.0 regarding the Archon Quests and Mihoyo’s Godly writing team that involves the Traveler’s development.

But honestly I am so overwhelmed and in Shock by what I just witnessed right now that I’m sure what I’m about to say is even coherent. Whoever’s working on the story needs a raise, honestly.

Let’s talk about The Traveler.

The Traveler Is someone who genuinely cares about people and despite their fighting ability is certainly not violent. But the Fatui pushed them WAY too Far this time. The Traveler snapped. Teppei genuinely didn’t deserve what happened to him.

Rest In Peace Teppei✨

BUT WHAT I did not expect was the Signora Boss fight. I knew we would fight her but I didn’t think that’s how it would play out. I didn’t expect the Traveler to duel her in front of the Shogun. The Traveler has heard Kazuha’s story so she would fully understand that the loser was going to die. In that moment, I can’t help but think that the Traveler wanted Signora to die. Which is interesting because they’ve never really been murderous. This is also probably what led to the cutscene afterwards.

But anyway, I love Venti sooooo…

But I do have Questions. Is Signora really dead? I just find it hard to believe I guess?

Did Scaramouche set her up? At that point he’s probably had the Gnosis for a day or two so why did Signora continue to meet with the Shogun?

Also was Sara unconscious or dead? Because she definitely stopped moving… and I completed Baal’s story quest and she wasn’t mentioned despite being a part of the Kujou clan? Because if she is dead then that means playable characters aren’t immune to death. Also how the Harbingers making use of their Delusions of it’s so dangerous?

The part involving Kazuha was insane. As a Kazuha main, I am a little upset that we didn’t see him or Gorou more in the story. But his scene was truly heartbreaking especially when he left the vision shell behind at the grave in the last cutscene. But I’m also incredibly proud of him✨ But at the same time he gave me a heart attack running at her with Goddamn Fillet Blade.

I’m confused as to what made the vision reawaken though? Was it possibly his ambition to save his friend. Was this the same ambition that gave his friend his vision? I’m confused and on tears.

In any case, I will now be actively looking for that location with Kazuha. I hope we’re allowed to leave Flowers 🌻

In terms of Baal. In my personal opinion, I’m definitely more attached to Venti and Zhongli and honestly I don’t really have anything else to say about her.

In Terms of Scaramouche’s background!!

Now This was very interesting. I figured that he was related to Inazuma somehow but that was unexpected. I am genuinely curious to see how he plays out in the future. However, it is said that Ei began making the puppet centuries ago but definitely after Khaenriah which means that Scaramouche is roughly 500 years old. And immortal.

So that’s fun.

Do I like him? He’s not exactly in my good graces but I am so genuinely curious about him that I can’t say I dislike him either. Im definitely looking forward to seeing him again especially since Signora is gone. I’ll make a clearer judgment on him when I know what’s going through his head.

About the Gnoses.

The Gnoses has genuinely baffled me because up until this point it almost seems like not a single Archon actually cares about Celestia. They’re literally just handing them away. Yes, Signora did aggressively take it away from Venti but afterwards he was just like “sooo anyway….”

Like do you not care??

Although the Gnosis does give them an increase in power it seems as though it’s main function is to connect them to Celestia. But the Archons do not seem phased about losing said attachment as well as most of their power.

Venti was notorious for not using his Gnosis anyway and honestly he doesn’t seem all that eager to get it back. Zhongli handed his away, as he only kept it because he wanted to continue to look after Liyue. And Baal just gave it to her friend who traded it with ease. Yae Miko didn’t even know what it was.

On top of that. We now have confirmation that they are indeed modeled to look like chess pieces. I do now have a theory that they were all being controlled by their Gnoses in exchange for their power and the War with Khaenriah has made them all bitter towards the current ruler and they all wish to rebel in their own way. But THIS IS JUST A THEORY!! And it is my Own Personal Assumption so please take it with a grain of Salt!

Anywho. That’s all I have to say for now. I wish you all a Fantastic 2.1 and to those who are wishing on the Banners, May your wishes shine Gold!

Let me know what you think of The New Update and what you liked about it most. I quite like reading Comments and reblogs.😌

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - Married in Secret

Warnings: a lot of fluff, implied smut, more fluff Word Count: 3,1K  Summary: After you and Loki get engaged, Odin is trying to make a huge wedding happen for you against your wishes. So you and Loki get married in secret. Loki has another surprise for the two of you... {there are a couple choices at the end for you to choose from!}  Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to write interactive fanfiction. Better start late than never, right? Please enjoy <3 also pls don’t hate me for the vows, I did my best ok??

YOUR POV

Questions about the tiniest, most ridiculous things were bombarded at you from each direction as you walked in the palace,

“Do you want dark green or light green curtains in the ballroom?”

“We’ve already invited 500 people to the dinner party, can we stretch that to 600?”

“Should we pair the roses with orchids or gardenias?”

Ever since you and Loki had announced your engagement, Asgard had gone wild. The servants were tasked with making the most fantastic royal wedding, and it was getting exhausting. Loki hadn’t asked for this and neither had you. Odin was orchestrating it all, and it was definitely not from a good will.

The old man cared so much about appearance and he wanted to show the people what it meant to be royal. After all, Loki was a prince and you were about to become a princess. Odin wanted to put up a facade, and dare you say it seemed like he wanted to show that royalty was much better than the common people. To throw luxurious parties and waste so much gold on an unfathomable amount of flowers and other unnecessaries. To put up a show and conceal the love you and Loki had for each other. You were supposed to act cold and proud that day, but it wasn’t what you desired.

Truly, all you wanted was to be with Loki and celebrate the love you had for one another. Nothing more than that.

After days of circus Odin had created, you were done. You felt like slamming the door to your soon to be shared bedroom, but didn’t do it as you realized the door itself hadn’t done anything to you. Loki was sitting on an emerald green armchair, book in hand and he looked up to you with almost a worried gaze. It softened when he realized that it was you, not another poor servant who was terrified of getting any details wrong. 

“Bad morning?” Loki judged the look on your face. Your shoulders were tense and it looked like you had been spun around like a music box doll everywhere you had been. 

“You could say so,” You sighed deeply and made your way closer to Loki. Although the day had begun poorly, you felt immediately much better when you were with the Trickster you had fallen for. 

Loki put the book down on the coffee table next to an empty cup of tea and he stood up, meeting you in a loving embrace. You relaxed in his arms and for a moment, you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the moment. 

“I chose a dress,” You let him know. At least, that was done now. One less thing to worry about.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” Loki sounded excited. He couldn’t wait to see you in your bridal outfit. The thought alone made his heart race in his chest. Oh how lucky he felt to have you.

You parted from his embrace and sat down on the second armchair so you could stretch your legs. It had been a long morning. 

“I don’t wish to complain,” you started carefully, “but I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. This wedding is getting out of hand.”

Loki agreed with you, but hearing it made him worry. He was afraid you would get cold feet. If so, he would certainly blame Odin for it. But now, he wiped that thought away, for he had an idea. 

“My love,” Loki took your hand in his and he lowered himself on one knee right in front of you, just like he had a few weeks ago. He was so devoted to you, he made you feel special. 

“Yes?”

“What if I told you I have a plan?” A familiar grin appeared on his face. The way his lips curled ever so slightly made shivers run down your spine. He was up to something.

“Oh?” You were certainly curious. Loki never had bad ideas. Well, it depended on how one would define ‘bad’ ideas. 

“Let’s elope, in secret. It’ll be just you and me and whoever shall wed us. No one needs to know until it’s official,” Loki proposed his idea to you.

And it was a brilliant idea. It was exactly what you had wanted. Something small and private. Away from hundreds or thousands of eyes which meant you could be comfortable. It wouldn’t be a show, it would be a loving moment just for you and just for him, one you would cherish forever. 

It was also slightly rebellious, which only made it so much better. You could already envision the smoke coming out of Odin’s ears, and the dumbfounded look on Thor’s face. The people would have something to gossip about. 

“What will your family think of it?” Honestly, you didn’t really care, but you played with the idea in your mind.

Loki put on a thoughtful look for a moment, pretending to be deep in thought, “I think...” He then returned his gaze to you and a playful gleam lit in his eyes, “that I don’t care at all. Perhaps my mother will be most understanding. Either way, it’s none of their concern, so what do you say?”

“Let’s do it,” You were convinced it was the best idea he could come up with regarding your wedding.

Loki was relieved to hear that and he quickly leaned close to you in order to catch your lips with his. The kiss deepened quickly. The way he held you was so strong and lively that you were afraid the chair would fall back, so you wrapped your arms around his strong torso to brace yourself.

When his soft lips pressed against the sensitive skin on your neck, you let out a laugh, “Loki!” You held onto him tighter, “if you’re going to kiss me like that, then maybe we shall move to the bed? This armchair wasn’t made for two.”

In a graceful manner, he dragged the two of you up to your feet, off of the chair, “if you insist, my love.”

_

The sun was beginning to set behind the horizon. It was still warm outside and the gentle wind cooled everything down. You were high over the water which allowed you to see most of Asgard, yet the place offered much needed privacy. Shadows cast on the stony pathway under your feet, which contrasted beautifully with the golden rays of sunlight that made everything look like a page from a fairy tale. Your eyes followed the trail of flower petals that smelled so lovely and sweet, and then you saw Loki.

He was standing there with a nervous smile on his face. The officiant who was going to wed you stood beside him and even he smiled as he saw you, but you could only focus on Loki. He wore his full Asgardian gear and the gold and emerald green looked fantastic on him. His raven hair was brushed neatly and it looked soft underneath his helmet. The emerald cape was flowing ever so lightly as the wind played with it.

In that moment, you felt like the luckiest person in the nine realms. 

You walked all the way up to him and then made sure your dress was smoothly cascaded around your legs and you wiped off any possible dust. It was the dress of your dreams and it made you feel so comfortable in your own skin. The jewelry you wore matched the dress and Loki’s gear, and you felt neat. You were truly a match made in the heavens. 

When your eyes met with Loki’s, your heart jumped to your throat. He looked so beautiful and happy. Joy was simply radiating from him and it was infectious. To see him like that was a sight you could never forget.

He took your hands into his and whispered, “you look ever so beautiful, my dear.” There was a tear in the corner of his eye and surely there were tears in yours. This was the moment you had waited for since you were small. It was your wedding day, when you and Loki would commit to one another for the rest of your lives. 

The officiant cleared his throat and you both turned to look at him. Asgardian weddings could vary so much. Everyone expected you to have the biggest wedding anyone had ever seen since Odin and Frigga’s, but here you were. It was just the three of you there. You didn’t recognize the officiant who was holding your rings, but it didn’t matter. The ceremony was going to be brief anyway and then you and Loki could do whatever your hearts desired. 

At first, the officiant spoke about your forefathers and mothers, asked them to bless you on your shared journey that was about to begin. He talked about Valhalla, and wished you strength and luck for your future. Eventually, it was time for your vows. You were slightly nervous then and you wondered how you would’ve felt if all of Asgard had been watching you. That would’ve been a nightmare. 

Loki took a deep breath as he prepared to speak. He had tried his best to remember his vows without having to look at a paper. Although he had known you for so long and shown you his most vulnerable sides, he felt jittery as he prepared to recite his vows to you.

“Y/N,” He began by saying your name. You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. You wondered if his words would make you cry. 

“You’re the love of my life. I still don’t understand what I did in order to end up with you, but I promise to make it all worthwhile. I assure you, I will stand by your side through thick and thin. I won’t let anything come between us, ever,” Loki seemed more confident after a few lines. He stood more comfortable and let the tension wash away from his muscles. 

“I will treat you like the goddess you are and I will support you through everything in life. You make me so happy, and I wish to make you happy too. I will cherish each and every day that I get to spend with you, because I love you. I love you for all that you are and who you will become as we grow. You make me feel like a better person and you make me want to be good.”

“...I want to listen to you, to be your rock. I want to go through good days and bad because now I know that I won’t be alone. I know that I am much to handle, but I will never allow my life to come in the way of yours. No matter where life takes us, I won’t leave you alone. As long as we’re together, I promise to be the best version of myself. For our future family, for us, for you,” Loki continued his vows smoothly. Each word seemed to come straight from his heart and soul. They certainly tugged at your heartstrings in the very best way. There was no doubt, Loki loved you as much as you loved him.

“I will love you, always,” He finished his vows with a pledge. If it wasn’t for the ceremony, you would’ve kissed him. Each cell of your being was practically begging for it, but you kept yourself together for just a while longer. 

He grabbed the golden ring carefully, afraid he would drop it. Then he held your hand and slipped the ring on your finger. It was a perfect fit and it looked amazing. The green jewel looked like magic as sunlight pierced through it from a million different angles. You would have to get used to carrying that on your finger, but it wasn’t heavy. It was just right.

Now it was your turn. Both Loki and the officiant looked at you expectantly. How could you match Loki’s words? You only hoped that he could feel the sincerity of your soft spoken words. 

“Loki, you are the light of my life, the reason why I get through even the hardest of days, and why I can enjoy the good days even more than I usually would,” You tried your hardest to stay composed. A part of you wanted to crumble because you were so overwhelmed with love. When you felt his hands on yours, you managed to stay calm and collected and you continued,

“I promise to be your ally in conflict, your partner in life, parenthood, crime,” You joked just to ease the tension you felt, earning a chuckle from Loki who hadn’t expected that, but he found it amusing nonetheless. This was exactly why he loved you. You were never too serious. Truly, you were his partner in crime.

“I promise to be yours forever. Being with you makes life feel complete. On hard days when we argue, I promise I won’t go to bed angry. I want to work with you through everything life has to offer. I will never abandon you. If you go, I go, right?” You paused for a moment and tried to remember the rest of your vows. You had written them down several times and you were happy you did so, because it made it so much easier to remember. The sentences came straight from your heart now.

Before you could go on, you decided to grab the ring that would soon decorate his hand. You held onto it for dear life.

“I can’t wait to grow old with you, Loki. I promise to give you my heart, my soul, my faith. Regardless of what happens in the future, I’m here for you. We will face it all together. From this day forward, until the day we die, until we are reunited in Valhalla, I love you. Always,” You felt immensely relieved as you finished your vows. It felt good to have said it all and know that soon you would be married. 

Loki let you put the ring around his finger, and his ring fit him flawlessly too. For a moment, you adored the way your hands looked now that you both had your wedding rings on. It was almost too good to be true. 

And when you tried to study Loki’s expression, you felt confident that the words had been enough for his ears. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so radiant. It was like you had stepped on cloud nine together and nothing could possibly drag you down. 

The officiant deemed you finished, so he spoke, “I say this before our forefathers and mothers so that they may bless this marriage. They may bare witness to the bond that you are about to form,” He turned to face the prince, “do you Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until all eternity’s end?” 

The moment you had waited for was finally here

Loki faced you fully and he couldn’t dream of getting married to anyone but you. It was easy for him to say, “I do.”

The man nodded and then asked you the very same question, “Do you Y/N Y/L/N, take Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until all eternity’s end?

Your heart was racing in your chest. It was like you were floating, that was how delighted you felt. There was no doubt to be found in your voice as you responded,

“I do.”

“Very well then,” The man failed to hold back a smile, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. May the gods and goddesses of Valhalla bless this marriage.”

Just like that, you were married.

Both of you were so ecstatic. When Loki leaned close to you and kissed you, it felt like you had entered paradise. Like all the flowers bloomed in seconds, like butterflies danced all around you, like you were bathing in sunlight and magic. You were enveloped in each other’s arms and your lips were sealed in a passionate kiss that felt never ending. It was your first kiss in the new chapter of your lives, and it was just for you. 

The officiant gathered his things and left as quietly as a mouse, which Loki and he had agreed upon previously. That you barely noticed as you were lost in one another. It wasn’t until you parted from the kiss that you realized you were alone, just the way you liked it, away from prying eyes. 

Loki wrapped his arm around your waist and then turned to look over the balcony. Vines were hanging over the railing and now you noticed the flowers he - or someone else - had set up. The sun was almost below the horizon and it painted the sky a beautiful mix of orange, gold and pink. Far away, you could already see a pool of stars gathering around the moons of Asgard. It was a beautiful sight. 

“We’re married,” Loki had to say it out loud. It was difficult to believe to be true. 

“Yes we are, my husband,” calling Loki that was thrilling. You wanted to shout it from the rooftops. 

My husband, he enjoyed the sound of that. He would never grow bored of hearing it, he was sure. Loki played with the material of your dress, finding it smooth to touch. He couldn’t wait to discard it. He wanted to make you get lost in pleasure and bliss that night. 

“I have a surprise for us,” Loki decided it was time. 

“You do?” 

“It’s our wedding day, my love. Of course I have more planned out for just the two of us,” Loki explained. He had been determined to make it special without guests. If others insisted on having a party later, that would be a problem for another day. You could celebrate without the judging guests and Loki’s family that could be a bit over the top. 

“Does it involve cake?” You wondered curiously as he offered you his arm to hold onto. As you accepted that, he began to lead the way.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

~ select your surprise ~

[surprise 1]

[surprise 2]

[surprise 3]

A/N: choose wisely! Or read them all, it’s up to you. 

I tried not to make the wedding too earthly, you know? I hope you enjoyed it. Now please, enjoy the surprise ending of your choosing :)

TAGS:

Forever Taglist:  @iraniq  @embrycallsgirl  @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho  @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13  @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna  @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing @klanceiscannon14  @peterpanouat​

Loki: @yuna-belikova​ @ornella0910 @castiels-majestic-wings @lucywrites02 @myraiswack​ @prettysbliss​ @weirdfangirl2416​

[lucky-catttt]

Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 2

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED TO READ.

Word Count: 3,885

Warnings: Prepare to put a towel down or go touch some grass after, either or LOL Mention of genitals, oral sex, squirting, face fucking, choking, names, foreplay, degradation, aftercare, BDSM, sexism/sexual harrassment.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I’ve also added images and gifs to help readers imagine the scenarios and reactions!

“So what kind of proposal were we thinking of that would save Black Gold corporation?” Max quizzes, leaning back against his chair. You pause to think while finishing your pastry. “Well” you begin “This space is huge, around 4,300 square feet. The lease Black Gold is renting this office floor has no major restrictions on it, so you could potentially sub-let the space on the floor for a monthly or fixed term lease to people who work remotely or teams that don’t want to commit to a larger office space. It's becoming more common because of the GFC, people can't commit to large long term leases for whole office floors anymore. You could also rent out the boardroom by the hour & also lease the private manager offices to businesses that want their own private room. And we already have a reception near the lifts, just re-hire them and make them pretend they work for all the businesses on the floor, answering their calls, doing admin work like scanning and faxing etc. As far as the business’s clients that show up are concerned, each business looks like they own the whole floor.

If we do a cost analysis and then get a small investor to cover the startup costs, we could guarantee them a return if businesses pay contract deposits or pay their lease in advance up front. Plus the landlord we owe money to. And with the top floor with amazing views and location, we can charge top dollar” Max stares at you in disbelief. “Wow, are you sure you don’t wanna be CEO?” He laughs, still in shock. You laugh, blushing. “I started working on a business proposal for one of my university assessments, if we customise it for this project we could pitch it to some investors and banks and speak to the landlord about it as well” You reply. “I could kiss you right now.” Maxwell sighs, gripping his fist. “Please do” you giggle, leaning towards him. Max reaches out both hands to cup your face, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do!” Max yells, before striding towards the bathroom to take a shower. Two weeks go by and the proposal is ready. Max calls you from the company car, on the way to your house to pick you up before the big investors meeting. “I’ll be right outside your place in a few minutes my sweet” He coos, beaming with excitement to see you. As his car pulls up, you collect your compendium, presentation cards and your pointer rod. Struggling with all you have to carry, Alfred rushes out of the car and up the steps to the front door, collecting all of your belongings. 

Maxwell peers over the top of his shades but the sun from behind your house blinds him. He shuffles across the seat and opens the car door, the sun now hiding from his view. As he removes his shades and looks up the stairs towards your front door, he sees you standing there, fixing your outfit. He’s stunned. 

It might be 1984, but you’re wearing a stunning outfit pulled straight from the 50s. A black suit dress with a pleat in the front with a thin gold belt around your waist. You accented the look with strap Mary jane heels, a black and gold handbag and a neat beret fascinator. Your hair was curled, accentuated with bright red lipstick and a single set of pearl earrings.

Max looks like he’s about to drop to his knees in awe, but his knees bend into a lengthy stride up the stairs, rushing to your side. “A heavenly vision of beauty'' Max gasps, giving you a kiss on the cheek in an attempt to preserve your makeup. He puts out his arm and you wrap your hands around it, as he leads you down your stairs to the car, staring at you the whole time, letting the universe guide his steps as this absolute goddess graces his presence. You both slide into the back seat of Max’s company car, his large hand immediately passing along your back and resting on your hip and ass, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I dont know how this presentation is going to go, but I can be absolutely certain that myself and every other person in that room will be enraptured by your presence”. he murmurs into your neck, squeezing your ass.

Max was wearing a pinstripe royal blue suit with black laced oxfords. His matching tie and pocket square peeking out. “I would kiss you right now but i don't want to get lipstick on your face just before our meeting” you blush, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. We have all the time in the world after” Max replies, running his nose down your neck, breathing gently against your skin.

 “We should probably prepare for the meeting, Max” you chuckle, seeing the office building not far up the road. You pull out your compendium and flip to an architectural blueprint of the office floor. 

“I had this drawn up by an architectural drafter last week. As you can see the large blank space is your office and private room, you already have the glass frosted for privacy. All the other office cubicles will be converted to private offices, as well as boardrooms, co-working areas and remote working hot spots.” Max’s eyes widen with surprise at the level of detail. “How did you get this done? I certainly don't remember commissioning this'' rubbing his chin. “I paid for it” you respond, nonchalantly. “You spent your money, for me?” Max inquires, now in disbelief. “Of course. I told you I would help you, Max. Consider it an investment”. You wink, flipping through more pages of the presentation. Just when Max thought he couldn't fall more in love with you than he already has, your hard work and giving nature makes his heart swell even larger to make room. After a few minutes the car pulls up to the investor’s office building. “Before we go in there, I want to ask you something.” Your eyes widen with intrigue. “While we're there, I’m not sure how these businessmen will react to a woman being anything more than my personal assistant. I’m not intimidated by you at all, but I suspect some of them might be” He continues, his eyes falling to your lap as he holds your hands. “Max, this project is my dream, but it’s your company, so i’m giving it to you to present. You’re the only person I trust with this”. 

As Maxwell begins to get himself together, you take a seat adjacent to where Max is standing. Although your knees are together with one ankle behind the other, you can feel some of the businessmen closest to you looking you up and down like a piece of meat. You quickly turn to face Max, giving him your undivided attention. “Well, I know you’re all very busy, so lets get started” Max smiles, wringing his palms together. The businessmen listen intently to Max’s pitch for the restructure of Black Gold corporation, before they begin to ask questions on financials. You begin to notice the men losing interest and Max starting to lose his confidence. He looks at you, his expression half pleading and half embarrassed. Without any hesitation, you stand up from your chair, striding over to Max’s side, picking up the pointing rod from the easel and pulling it to full length with one swift pull. 

The men all sit upright at attention from the sound of the rod. “If I may, Maxwell” you butt in, politely. “Gentleman” You steady the pointer rod against the chart on the easel “the profit figures on the project are as follows; 36 external view offices, charged at $3,000 per month each, generating $108,000 gross profit. The 25 internal offices with no view will be $500 per month, generating $12,500. We also have hot-desks with memberships starting at $20 per month. If companies want us to answer their phones, do their mail, bring them coffee, do their shopping, take their dry-cleaning, walk their dogs or bring them lunch, that's an additional fee. Essentially, we are looking at a monthly profit turnover of $150,000+. Our current lease fee is $50,000 a month with about $15,000 in body corporate and utilities, leaving $85,000 per month net profit, $225 thousand per quarter and over a million annually. We currently are looking for a combined setup cost of around $500,000. The more you invest, the bigger your return.” You swing the pointer road and rest it on your shoulder. 

Silence fills the room and you panic. Your assertiveness may have turned them off, so you pretend to be ditzy and dip one of your feet inwards. The men who are all sitting up at attention, look between each other and nod. Your charm and business acumen seemed to have put them under some kind of spell. “Thanks for your time gentleman. If you have any questions please feel free to call” you finish, walking around to hand each of them Max’s business card. The men begin to chat amongst themselves, before one of them approaches Maxwell. They introduce themselves and begin chatting about the pitch “You should be very proud of your assistant Maxwell” they chuckle “she seems very switched on and driven”. Max shoots you a smiling glance, before turning back “Yeah, I’m actually going to make her the CFO” he responds. “Well, we’ll deliberate here and be back in touch with our offer”. The meeting finally wraps up and you both head back downstairs where Alfred is waiting with the car door already open. You both slide inside and Max wraps his arms around you before passionately kissing your lips as the car drives back to his office.

“You want to make me the.. CFO?” you pant, breaking from the kiss. “Yes” Max smiles, staring into your eyes. “You have worked so hard and today at the presentation..I know you’re the woman for the job. Do you want it?” You blush, holding his face “Well how can I say no?”. The company car finally pulls up back at the office and you both head through the lobby and into the lift. Max stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, talking about the enormous amount of work that will potentially need to be done if this deal goes through. As the lift doors open into the reception area, you both step out and Max hears the phone in his office start to ring. You give him an excited smile, encouraging him to go take the call in private. He begins striding through the empty office before making it to his office, pushing the doors open and heading over to his desk.

You take your time walking back to his office, giving Max time to finish his phone call. As you approach his office doors, you hear the click of the receiver as he hangs up. You watch Max’s shadow behind the frosted glass walk up to the doors and swing them open, a neutral look on his face. You look puzzled, thinking it was bad news before he burst out laughing with a smile, swinging you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. “You did it baby!” He yells, slapping your backside before throwing you both down onto the bed. “We did!?” you scream, a wave of relief and excitement washing over you. “Yes! I’m so proud of you. You saved Black Gold corporation. You saved me.” Max smiles, brushing a lock of curls away from your face before cupping your cheek and passionately kissing you. 

You kick off your shoes, belt and take off your beret fascinator as Max removes his suit jacket, suspenders and belt, before kissing each other again. “I was so turned on by you today” Max moans, writhing his hands all over your body, before ripping the bust of your dress open, the two buttons pinging off onto the carpet. “Watching your voluptuous ass in that dress walking into that boardroom and how you commanded the room’s attention, took control and sealed the deal. I wanted to put you over that boardroom table and worship you like the goddess you are. But I guess I can do that now”. Something about wearing your favourite suit of his, the unwavering progressive support of women and eagerness to pleasure you unlocks your most ravenous sexual desires. You stop Max, sitting up at the foot of the bed. He gets up from laying down and looks at you, worried he said or did something wrong. “Whats wrong my love?” he asks, looking concerned. ****MAJOR SMUT WARNING AHEAD**** “Max… you’ve shown me the romantic love making version which was so beautiful, but I want to make you feel worshipped” Max gives you an interesting glance. “You’re such a giving person but I want to give back. You’ve suffered neglect and mistreatment most of your life. I want to give you a different kind of passionate sex. I have fantasies and wild ideas that I think will give you immense pleasure. I want you to….” You stop yourself, not sure how he will react. Max's eyes widened with intrigue. “Go on?” Max squeezes your hand. “Well” you begin. The passionate fire is burning hotter and hotter within you. “I want you…” you hitch up your skirt and sit across Max’s lap, with one leg over each side “to straddle my chest and fuck my throat while I rub my clit” you get closer to Max’s face, pulling on his tie “And I want to cum while you’re throat fucking and choking me with your cock” you begin to undo his tie “And then I want you to cum in the back of my throat and make me swallow it”. There’s dead silence, so you bat your eyelash extensions, throwing a sexy yet innocent gaze followed by “hmmm?”. Max’s mind goes completely blank, the blood rushing from every inch of his body straight to his cock, which you feel hardened against your crotch as you straddle him. “Uhh wow honey that sounds very dangerous.” Max chokes, embarrassed he's getting turned on at the idea of hurting you. 

“For you or me?” You giggle, biting your lip. “For you” Max says, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do to you Hermosa?”. “Yes Maxwell. I love the way you worship and pleasure me, but I want you to feel the same way. I have a kink when it comes to being dominated. Seeing my man so turned on and using his strength and body to please himself using me, makes me feel incredible. I know you would never hurt me, it’s something I would love for you to experience” You answer before kissing his neck. “You really are too good to me, princessa” Max sighs, running his hands down your back to your ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Max” you give him a reassuring look, worried you might have overstepped. “No baby, I’d love to, if that’s what will bring you the most pleasure” He coos, kissing your neck.

You begin to take off your dress, revealing under a black and gold laced lingerie set. “Black and Gold” you chuckle, watching Max’s eyes widen at the level of detail. “How did I get so lucky?” Max pants, pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers to contain his rock hard cock. You go to reach for Max’s crotch when his hand stops you. “Before we do this” Max begins “I want you to stop me at any time if it hurts or you can’t breathe or you just don’t want to do it anymore. That is the most important thing to me”. You nod and smile at Max, leaning in to kiss him, before your hands start to remove his boxers.

You reach down and begin to tease his cock, tracing your fingers tips against the tip. With your other hand you guide Max’s hand down, placing it at the top of your panties. As he starts to put his hands under your panties, he notices there’s a hole in them. Max stops to inspect. “Crotchless panties? Me vuelves loco” Max pants before he begin kissing and biting all over your body.

You’re in for it now. Like a virus, you’ve taken over Max’s brain, flooding it with animalistic desire and passion. A switch has been flipped and hell bent on blowing your mind, leaving all of his inhibitions and reservations about what he’s about to do to you at the door. Max climbs on top of you, wrapping his large hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you gasp for air. “Is this what you want?” He growls into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You manage to nod before moaning, indicating that you’re enjoying it. He’s never treated a woman like this before, but he manages to find the personality and words seemingly from thin air, like it was repressed all this time. “Start touching yourself for me now” Max commands. You slide your hand down into your panties and start rubbing your clit, sparks flying through your body and the slick now leaking out of your pussy. He groans at the sight of you touching yourself. Max moves up the bed before straddling over your chest. With your head propped up on some pillows, you look in Max’s eyes and ready your mouth and jaw for his throbbing cock. Max thumbs your bottom lip before grabbing just under your jaw to keep your face steady. “Open wide like the good little whore that you are” he hisses, smacking the tip of his precum soaked cock on your face.

The degrading name only makes you wetter, as you furiously rub your clitoris whilst pinned under Max’s legs. You moan as Max pushes his cock into your mouth and down your throat. “Oh my god my love your mouth feels incredible” Max moans, his character from before severely altered by the pleasurable sensation. He realises his mistake and compensates by pushing his cock as far as it will fit into your mouth and throat. “That’s it, take it all” he smirks, exhaling with a moan. You use two fingers to scoop up some of your slick and rub it into your clitoris, which is now super sensitive. Your stifled moans humming against Max’s veiny cock cause it to twitch. With your hips bucking from pleasuring yourself, Max takes both of his hands and puts them on your cheeks. “Fuck your mouth feels so good” Max moans, slowly thrusting back and forth out of your mouth, his cock touching your uvula and causing you to gag with each stroke. Your eyes begin to roll back in your skull as you continue to moan & choke, your swollen clitoris edging closer and closer to orgasm. “You like this huh? You like it when Daddy fills your throat up and fucks it?” Max hisses, wrapping your hair in between his fingers, gripping hard as his thrusts gain more momentum. Thick strings of spit is now spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and onto your breasts. “You look

The taste of Max’s precum coating the back of your tongue. You’re fighting to contain your orgasm but Max’s cock and brutal punishing words are sending you dangerously close to the edge. “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” You choke, tears welling in your eyes as you’re trying to nod and send Max a pleasured innocent gaze, driving him wild. You concentrate on breathing through your nose, each time Max’s cock leaves the back of your throat for a split second, giving you enough time to take in air. You decide to start moving your flattened tongue against the shaft, rubbing against the tip as it passes back and forth. Max let’s out a groan “You’re such a good little putá for papá”. There’s no holding back now, you increase your moans to signal that you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. “Cum for me” Max hisses, continuing the ecstasy inducing tempo of thrusts into your mouth and throat. You continue to rub your clit and gesture for Max to keep his cock still inside your mouth and throat for this moment, riding the crashing wave of your orgasm, squirting furiously onto your legs and sheets below. The writhing and shaking of your body underneath him, the sound of your squirting and muffled cries and moans from behind his cock is too much and brings him closer much faster than he ever anticipated. The eye-watering sensation causes the tears to flow down your cheeks, causing your mascara to run.

As your orgasm begins to subside you gesture for Max to continue thrusting, which he does as he moves his large hands to cup your face. “That felt fucking amazing” Max moans, continuing his fast and hard strokes. Your gaze, burning with passion and framed within smudged running eyeliner locks with Max’s, his domineering yet still showing affection. “I’m gonna cum” Max pants, keeping the pace as his grip on your face grows tighter. “Fuckkkk!!!” He shouts, holding your head still as he holds one final thrust as far in as it will go. Your eyes roll back into your head again as you feel the warm thick ropes of cum spurt onto the back of your throat. It was lucky you had taken a large enough breath before that moment, enough to sustain you for the few seconds Max held his cock still inside your mouth, throbbing and pulsing as he moans and shudders, cursing in Spanish. Coming back to reality, Max immediately pulls his softening cock from your mouth and wraps his large hands on the top and bottom of your face, closing your jaw shut. “Now Swallow” he commands, bending down so that his face inches from yours. With a cheeky gaze you oblige and swallow the remains of his cum tangled in your throat, before opening your jaw to allow him to inspect if there was any left. “My good little leche putá” he whispers, before spitting in your wide open mouth.

As if like breaking character on a movie set, Max immediately reverts back to his original self, climbing off to the side to lay next to you. “Was that good for you my love? How do you feel?” Max asks, worried he’s harmed your physical and mental state. “Incredible” you pant, smiling, lying in a pool of your own squirt. Breathing a sigh of relief, Max quickly brings up the blankets to cover you both, embracing you and peppering your spit, mascara and tear soaked face with kisses. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Max quizzes, checking your chest and throat over. “No” you reply, your throat somewhat hoarse. “Okay good. I love you so much” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. “I love you too, Max”.

————————

I got impatient and wanted to post it now so I guess this chapter is finished 💀

@anaaaispunk @mandoalorian @pintsizemama

[luminous-faerie]

👀 can do you a cute fluffy Yelena fic?

You can do anything you want but I'll send ideas to help you!

• Cute movie night either out or inside the apartment

• First time seeing each other after a very long mission

• A road trip!

• Cooking or Baking together!

a/n: ahhh yusss yelena! i went for the movie night - it might not be as fluffy as you wanted but i hope you like it! :))

500 followers celebration (requests now closed)

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“Have you picked a movie yet?” you call into the living room as you pick up two bowls of popcorn from the kitchen counter.

“I chose one of those terrible action movies that you love so much. I don’t understand why you like them because the fight scenes are terrible, and they always last so much longer than they should, you know.”

“I do know, you make sure to tell me every time we watch one,” you laugh.

“Ugh, they are so bad!” Yelena whines.

You pass her a bowl of popcorn and settle down on the sofa next to her. “I’m pretty sure you like them, too,” you tease.

“I don’t; they are terrible and stupid.”

“Okay,” you smirk and pull a blanket over the two of you as Yelena starts the movie.

--

“That’s impossible - he’d have broken at least one leg by now!” she exclaims. “What in the-? That is not how that move works: one of them would be dead by now!”

You gaze at her as the scene wears on, admiring how passionate she is about how inaccurate the film is.

“Y/N! Stop staring at me,” Yelena whines.

“But you’re so cute when you criticise fight scenes. It’s adorable.”

“I am adorable, but staring makes you look like a creep.” She turns back to the movie. “You idiot! You don’t pull a knife out of somebody if you want to keep them alive. Honestly, these people are so stupid.”

--

Two bowls of popcorn later, you are playing with Yelena’s hair as she rests her head on your lap. She’s curled up so small, with the softest look on her face that you would never guess she’s a deadly assassin. Your fingers run through her hair gently, provoking a warm smile to grace her lips.

Yelena’s breathing begins to slow before the movie ends. Her eyes are shut, and she still smiles as you continue to play with her hair.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” you whisper.

-----

@natasha-danvers @thelastavenger-3000 @aaron-despair @rooskaya-yelena @natasharomanoffswife @echolarain @username23345 @peggycarter-steverogers @thewidowsghost

let me know if you want to be added to or taken off the yelena taglist :)

[mrstaeminlee]

Mission Complete Ch. 1

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You really had no idea what the fuck prompted you to join the military. Maybe it was to find some redeeming grace in the eyes of your dying mother, maybe it was because you wanted a life with as much stability as one could muster, maybe it was because you just fucking hated farming.

Whatever it was, you wished to any God that would listen that you would have buried it in the ground along with the countless friends and family members you had lost to the Titans.

The first week of the cadet corps was everything you knew you would hate and more. Between the foul smelling breath of the commandant threatening to make you puke up the bread you had managed to steal, to working your body to the point of sneaking away from one on one combat to puke behind the bushes, after seven days you had almost decided that maybe digging in the dirt for the rest of your miserable life wasn't so bad.

There was only one thing stopping you from making your own walk of shame to the wagon of regret.

Levi Ackerman.

AKA the man you fantasized about every night when you managed to find enough strength to finger yourself below the covers.

He was a couple of inches shorter, true, but you were willing to break your rule of not fucking anyone shorter than you for him.

You had only see him twice in your life by complete chance, the first had been when you happened to be by the gates in time to see the Scouts returning from what was undoubtably another failed mission, and you decided that what the hell, might as well have a look at Humanity's Strongest in the flesh. Granted, it hadn't been his best day; his green cloak was splattered with what could only have been the blood of his comrades as it didn't look as if he had a single scratch on him, but he looked like a god, albeit one that had just gotten his ass kicked out of heaven. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, and even from how far away you were you found yourself shivering from the intensity of his dead gaze. You weren't sure what possessed you to lift your hand as he eyes moved through the crowd, looking for whom, you didn't know, or what possessed him to raise those eyes to you, but you found yourself lost in haunted silver as you gave a soft wave. The way he seemed to look straight through you, not even seeing you even as you stared at each other, was enough to convince you that you needed to do whatever it took to see this man again.

You enlisted the start of the next week.

The second time was completely by chance.

Everyone was desperate for military recruits, and desperate times called for desperate calls to important people to make appearances in front of people that were well, not very important.

Erwin Smith, Dot Pixis, Nile Dawk, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Rico Brzenska, and even Darius Zackly graced the entrance ceremony of the new Cadets, and you thanked whatever bone in your body made you a teacher's pet because you had a front row seat to the man that had plagued your thoughts every single day in the past week. His appearance was brief and he didn't speak, just stared at the fresh faces, some cocky, some blank, but mostly terrified new recruits, and you could have sworn that you saw a tinge of sadness hidden in the silver, as if he could already foresee the deaths of everyone in front of him. He followed after Erwin immediately after the blond gave his speech about thanking you all for making the decision to serve humanity and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 'I'm not doing this for humanity, I'm doing this for dick,' you thought as you signed your life away to this shit camp for the next two years.

How one man who was fucking shorter than you managed to convince you to trade the next 728 days, 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds of your life for physical and emotional hell was beyond you, and yet here you were, standing proud and slightly hungover from the pre-graduation celebrating you did with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin the night before. They hadn't initially been your first choice in friends, but Armin was nice to you from the start and once you very quickly learned that flirting with Eren in front of Mikasa was not in your best interest, you had decided that they were alright; especially when Eren's Titan form had been revealed. If anyone was going to have to get close enough to keep an eye on Eren, it would be Captain Levi.

The very man you were thinking of walked on the stage along with Nile Dawk, Dot Pixis, and Erwin Smith as the three took turns giving their pitch. You hadn't made the top 10 but were happy for your friends that were, you were content with your place as 13th. In a class of over 500, you still considered it a win, and if your parents were still alive you knew they'd be proud. As the remaining members of the top 10 who had opted to join the elitest MP's went off to talk to Nile and the other scared fucks ran off to sign themselves to the Garrison regiment, you and around a hundred other members stayed where you were and you licked your lips, forcing your heart rate to calm itself. 'Calm down, you can't work your way up to fucking the strongest man in the world if you die of heart attack before-'

"Listen up you little shits."

Oh my God he was speaking you've never heard his voice before it's so fucking-

"Most of you are going to die. Are you prepared for that?"

Ah, so Humanity's Strongest was a sweet talker.

"Erwin is making me come up here and talk, so we're all going to pretend that I'm saying some meaningful bullshit. But here's the truth: If you aren't strong, you will die, and it will be painful. Imagine the thought of seeing your childhood friend's entrails being slurped up like spaghetti by a Titan, while the entire time he's conscious enough to reach his hand out for you, and you are able to do nothing for him because you spent exactly one second hesitating, or you were a moment too late to draw your blades, or react to the threat. If that scares you, then do us all a favor and put down that half assed salute and sell your soul to the Garrison where you'll spend your days fucking the best whores for a discount if you're in uniform and getting drunk on the clock."

After his touching speech you and your now dripping panties decided that you had indeed made the right decision in selling yourself to the Scouts.

One month later

It was moments like these, where you weren't quite trashed but definitely more than tipsy, that you had never been happier to be part of the survey corps. I mean, you were in peak physical shape (you still couldn't believe you had abs. Abs!), you were hot, you were fit, and you knew Sasha Braus, who had managed to steal a few bottles of top shelf liquor from the higher ups.

You were also horny as fuck. It had been over a year since you'd gotten laid, and you were using the dildo you'd bought on your first trip back into town as often as you brushed your teeth (twice a day, you didn't fuck with cavities). You briefly thought about enlisting the help of one of your current drinking buddies but after seeing your choices you decided to leave it to old faithful hidden in your pillowcase. There was Jean, who albeit was pretty hot even with the long face but was so in love with Mikasa it made you want to vomit. Marco, who you were almost one hundred percent sure was gay; Connie, who held the sexual appeal of a pile of horse shit, although he was super nice. Reiner almost looked promising but you knew underneath those stocky muscles was a shitload of emotional baggage you didn't want, and Bertholt was head over heels for Annie of all people. That left Armin and Eren. Eren you already knew was out, while your slut senses told you he'd be a great lay, you weren't quite ready for your life to end at the hands of Mikasa. That left Armin. You tilted your head, staring at him as you sipped on your god forsaken concoction and debated fucking him or not. He wasn't outright sexy, but he'd filled in well during the two years of training and you had seen glimpses of his surprisingly impressive muscles under his white shirt. He might actually do. He'd be shy as hell and you would have to lead everything, not to mention he'd probably cum in less than a minute, but it just might-

“Did you guys know that Captain Levi is a virgin?"

You spit the mix of vodka, rum, and whatever mixer Reiner had put in all over the face of the person you had just considered fucking.

"I'm sorry, what?" You turned your attention to Christa, apologetically handing Armin a napkin and patting his cheek.

Christa blushed at the attention and scooted closer to Ymir, who threw an arm around her shoulders and gave Reiner her customary 'If you even look at her weird, I will gut you' look. "W-Well, recently I started helping out in the infirmary because they've been short handed. You all know, it's that time of year where everyone has to get looked at and they give us that sheet of paper to fill out with all of our personal information to keep track of potential diseases. I was in charge of filing the paperwork the day they brought all of the officers in, and on the paper they ask you how many sexual partners you've had and Captain Levi wrote 0. But you guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone! This is private information, if it somehow gets out that I told you this I'll get into a lot of trouble!"

Ymir chuckled, placing a sloppy kiss at the top of the blonde's head. "Don't worry about a thing sweet cheeks, if any of these miscreants here says a word I'll kill them for ya. But we don't have to worry about that at all, now do we?" She glared at each person in the room, who all looked as if Christa were a ghost, and slowly shook their heads.

Your life was changed.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

The strongest man in the world.

Rumored former thug of the Underground.

The person responsible for killing as many Titans as a hundred soldiers.

The person whose squad every scout dreamed of being on, was a virgin.

You screeched out a laugh before you could help it, the alcohol doing nothing to try and make you quiet yourself as you fell onto your back laughing, cup long forgotten as it rolled across the floor. The person who initiated your drive to join the military in the first place, the person you literally dreamed of fucking, had never gotten his dick wet.

Clearly, you had your work cut out for you.

If you managed to live through the sight of Ymir reaching over to punch you in the face to shut you up.