#specifically after someone commented that there ‘were none’

[tearsaura]

In the woods, the monster awaits // Eris Vanserra x reader

Based on this comment by @astarionsdurge thank you so much for this prompt! I hope you like it.

picture is from pinterest: tanema3

Word count: 1.2k

The estate was much quieter nowadays. Visiting it served only two purposes: seeing my mother or following up on court business. It always felt cold, which is ironic since our power was quite the opposite.

My father’s office was the furthest away at the highest floor and even that didn’t seem far away enough from us. As I climbed up the stairs and entered his space a few moments later, the familiar smell of his cologne hit me and it made my skin crawl.

“We must check in with y/l/n. The magic on our borders is wearing of. There has been an increase on beasts in the woods and if they get any closer, they’ll feast on the village by noon and on us by the evening.” Beron said without looking up from his papers as I stepped closer to his desk.

Well hello to you too father!

Yes, I am doing alright thank you for asking!

Our army shrinks with every day that passes but you already knew that and you refuse to do anything about it! What will you do when there are none left, even for you?

How are you feeling? Any chance that you step down and free this court from its misery?

My father, the high lord of the autumn court, summoned me at dawn to complain, like he usually did. He did take me by surprise that he decided to do something about it instead of delegating it to someone else. Maybe the thoughts of being a meal for some beasts did worry him.

“Shall I meet up with him today?”

“No, I already scheduled to meet up and I want you to accompany me, I need to have a word with him first but after that it is going to be your problem.” He said, raising from his chair.

With other words, he wanted the people from the village to think that he does care about them. That’s what he usually does: Goes to the poorer villages occasionally, act as if he cares, promises them that he works something out to help them but never actually does it. He wordlessly walked out, his guards trailing after him. I sighed, counted to ten, and went after them.

The horse ride to the boarders went quietly thankfully. I tuned out my fathers talking and took in the lands. The autumn court was beautiful, especially the forest. We reached the said place at the border shortly, and nobody was there. I got off my horse and gave him something to eat before joining my father, who was already seething. It was astonishing, how short his patience ran.

“This is unacceptable. Where is the old man?” Beron complained as he dismounted his horse, walking further into the woods.

Please dear mother, let this man get lost in there and never come back.

“This is a forest, he probably needs some time to find us because it looks all, you know, the same.” I claimed, walking after him whilst keeping my distance.

“I am the high lord of the autumn court! I do not have the time or the nerve to wait on some old Witcher to find his way to the place I ordered him to get to on time. He’s a Witcher don’t they sense people?”

“We don’t. We only sense the magic, or well, the lack of it.” A feminine voice called and as I turned around, I was sure that reality had left me. The unknown woman came towards us, my father taking a few steps back as his guards stepped in front of him.

She nearly made me drop to my knees. There were no words on this world that would do right in describing how beautiful she was. No music could come close to the sound of her voice. Without thinking, I stepped closer to her.

The woman raised up her hands in surrender. “No need to draw weapons. I am not here to harm you, high lord. My father sends me: y/l/n, the old Witcher?” she said, a coy smile graced her red lips. Of course, I personally hadn’t seen her father but her signature light grey, almost white, eyes gave her away as a family member of the witches.

“Why didn’t he come himself? I specifically told him that he should come. One would think that the order of the High lord where to take-” “He went to another weak spot. Sadly, this area isn’t our only problem. It took me a while to find you because the magic is missing in multiple places.”

I swallowed. One leakage was bad, but manageable. Multiple where a bad sign. Something was wrong.

“So, what can we do about it?” I asked, her eyes now fixating on me. They looked just like the sky during autumns stormy afternoons. Very hard to look away from, pulling me deeper into this trance.

“You are?”

“Eris. Eris Vanserra.” She continued to look at me, her head tilting slightly. She had a mole right over her upper lip on the left side.

“My oldest son.” I hadn’t even realised that my father had stepped closer too. “He will take over this matter and you’ll correspond directly to him. Unfortunately, I must go. Court affairs.” He said, before he went to his horse, his guards trailing after him.

She waited for a few moments, watching my father and his guards leaving and as they became a small figure in the distance, her attention turned back to me.

“I feel sorry for lady autumn. It must be tiring to listen to this man for even a second, I fear.”

“You have no idea.” I replied and she gave me another smile. She had dimples.

“So, my father and I are working on resurrecting the old magic that was used. But it is many centuries old and all the tomes we have need to be translated first. We will work with lesser magic until we have it but that would only last days or weeks at most. For the time being I would stay here to make sure that everything is alright.” She said, stemming her hands on her hips as she observed.

She smelled divine. Oranges with a hint of vanilla. He wanted to wrap her scent around him for the rest of his life.

“The Forrest house isn’t far from here. You can stay there.” I blurted, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, that is quite all right I thought about bringing a tent-” “A tent? Absolutely not. You are saving your people with your work. The least I can do is make sure that you have an actual roof over your head.” I said, stepping closer to her. She bit her lip, as she looked up to me, the confidence from before replaced with sudden shyness.

“Thank you, Eris.”

Eris. That’s what did it. I suddenly felt the thin golden thread pulling me towards her and my breath hitched.

Mate.

Must protect her, must keep her safe.

I found my mate. I took everything in me not to blurt it right out.

“Of course.” I whispered, before I held out my arm to her hoping that she didn’t notice it trembling.

“I’ll bring you there.”

[fuck1ng-queen]

Less Complicated

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: none actually, enemies to lovers

Author comments: hey bestiessss! this is the first oneshot i'm posting to celebrate valentine's day with bad omens and i'm so excited to this week because i'll post one per day! i hope you all like it and see you tomorrow! 💕

The wind was blowing so hard you could hear it. You pressed your arms against your body, trying your best to close your coat around you. The leafless trees danced under the light of the streetlamps. A few small piles of snow piled up on the damp sidewalks, reflecting the brightness of the shop windows decorated with red hearts and shiny letters. The distant sound of laughter and conversations between couples walking by created a cozy backdrop, contrasting with your loneliness as you walked. Valentine's Day had never been a special day for you, it was just another one when the world around you was immersed in hearts and flowers. As you walked to the café on the corner, the one you always went to when you felt lonely, your thoughts were occupied with the upcoming exhibition you were organizing for the local gallery. It was the only thing that still kept you distracted from it all.

The sound of music in the distance caught your attention. You frowned in disapproval as you recognized the melody of the famous song by the band you avoided listening to so much. More specifically, the lead singer you'd rather forget: Noah.

Noah had always been a constant presence in your life, but not always for the best reasons. Ever since high school, your lives seemed intertwined by an inexplicable rivalry. He was the kind of person who always made a point of annoying you, as if he knew exactly where every single one of your vulnerabilities was. How could someone who hated you so much get to know you so well? And to make things worse, he did it with pleasure, always with a smile on his face that at the time you could die for, but you would never tell anyone that you found it attractive.

The music in the distance brought back memories. The fierce competitions to be the best student in the class, the discussions about who was the most creative in the projects, the challenging looks you exchanged every chance you got. Noah always found a way to unsettle you, with his unfunny jokes and constant teasing. He knew exactly how to make you angry.

“Do you really think you can beat me?” Noah scoffed after one of the many competitions you’ve entered.

“At least I make an effort, unlike you who only rely on your own cheap charm,” you retorted, with sparks in your eyes.

“Charm? I didn’t know you noticed,” he replied with that mischievous smile that only pissed you off even more.

Inside the café, the warmth and the scents welcomed you. You took off your coat and sat down by the window, opening your computer to revise a few things. You were so immersed in your work that you almost didn't notice when a man entered the café, shaking the snow out of his hair and heading for the counter. He looked different from what you remembered, maybe more mature, but still with that carefree air that irritated you so much. You blinked a few times until you believed it was none other than Noah.

“I can’t believe it.” His voice brought you back to reality.

You looked up, forcing a polite smile. “Noah.”

“You here? I swear I didn’t expect to see you.” He smiled, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m working. What about you?”

“Show. We're in town. It looks like the band is still following you,” he joked, and you let out a sigh.

“Unfortunately, it seems so.” You turned your attention back to the screen, trying to put an end to the conversation.

But Noah wasn't the type of person to be ignored so easily. He ordered a coffee and sat down at your table, facing you. “Why are you always so serious? Isn't it Valentine's Day? You should be having fun.”

“And what about you? Where's your romantic day?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I don't have one. My passion is music, remember?” He shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.

“Of course. How could I forget?” you replied, with a touch of sarcasm. “You play everywhere.”

“You always notice, then” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “But what about you, still organizing those art exhibitions?” Noah asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“Yes, that's my job,” you replied as dryly as you could, turning your eyes back to your laptop.

“You know, you really take all this seriously. Haven't you ever thought about relaxing a bit?” he teased.

You sighed and closed your laptop with an audible click. “Noah, why do you always feel the need to tease me?”

“Because it's fun to see you get angry,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “But maybe I also like to see you a little out of your comfort zone.”

“You don't change, do you? Always the same Noah, eager to be the center of attention,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“And you, always so focused, so determined,” he said softly. “Maybe that's what I admire about you.”

You couldn't help but be surprised by the honesty in his voice. “Admire? You?”

“Yes. As much as we fight, I've always admired your passion for what you do. We're artists, we can't deny that we're passionate, and I admire that in you. Even if I don't say it often,” Noah admitted, looking directly into your eyes.

You felt disconcerted. You weren't used to this vulnerable version of Noah, let alone a compliment from him, or the way you felt, unable to arm yourself for a response. You looked away, trying to process what he had said.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, not knowing what to say.

Noah smiled, realizing that he had managed to disarm you. “Who knows, maybe we should try being friends for once?”

You arched an eyebrow, still skeptical. “Friends? I don't know if we're ready for that.”

“Maybe not now, but who knows in the future?” Noah replied, getting up to leave. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Good luck with the new exhibition.”

“Thank you, Noah. Good luck with your presentation,” you replied, watching as Noah left the café.

(...)

In the following days, you tried to concentrate on your work, but the conversation with Noah kept going through your head. He seemed different, more sincere, more vulnerable. It made you uneasy.

On the opening night of the exhibition, you were nervous. The lights in the gallery shone brightly, reflecting the meticulously selected paintings and sculptures. You ran your eyes over everything, as if there were still some detail or other that might have gone unnoticed, in an attempt to suppress your nervousness.

“It's perfect,” Noah's voice sounded next to you, soft and encouraging.

You turned to him, surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to support you. We're artists, I know how lonely today can be for you. I thought you might need a friend tonight,” he said with a warm smile.

You felt a genuine wave of gratitude at that moment, making you smile back. “Thank you, Noah. It means a lot to me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Noah hesitated, as if choosing every word he was going to say.

“Of course,” you replied, curious.

“Why have you always hated me so much?” The question was direct, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that made you feel your stomach lurch.

You took a deep breath, staring at him. “It was never hate, Noah. I think it was... fear. Fear of how you made me feel. You were always so free, so confident, and I didn't know how to deal with it.”

“Fear?” Noah asked, surprised. “I never wanted to scare you. I always thought you hated me because well... I've always been a jerk to you.”

You laughed softly, despite your serious look. “And you were. But I was also a bit stubborn and proud. The two of us were always competing, always trying to prove I don't know what to I don't know who. Maybe we were actually trying to hide what we really felt.”

“And what did we really feel?” Noah asked in a soft tone, but full of curiosity.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “I think we were afraid of getting hurt. It was easier to fight than to admit that maybe there was something more. Something we didn't know how to deal with.”

“I won't deny it, I always felt there was something more,” Noah admitted. “But I didn't know how to tell you. Every time I tried, we ended up fighting. And then I thought, maybe it's better this way. Less complicated.”

“Less complicated, more painful,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “As time went by, I kept thinking about all the things I wish I'd told you, but never did. There was always a barrier between us, something we never knew how to cross.”

Noah took a step closer, gently holding your hand. You didn't remember, but that was probably the first time you touched each other, and it gave you goosebumps. “I always felt that there was something big between us. Maybe it's too late, but I think I'd still like to explore it with you.” 

You felt your heart soar at his words. “Noah, I feel it too. I think I want to stop running away.” 

He smiled, gently pulling you closer. “So, what do you say about starting now? My name is Noah and I sing in a band.” He smiled, holding out his hand to shake yours.

You giggled, feeling your face heat up. You smiled back, your eyes shining with the chance of a new hope, feeling that the truce between you could last forever.

.

Masterlist | Valentine's Day One Shots

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@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @kenjipepsi1 @chey-h @concretejunglefm @blade-dressed-in-red

Send me an ask to join my taglist

[mortalityfixer]

my experience with roiz .

( as best i can remember )

warning for lesbiphobia , ableism , manipulation , transphobia ( ? ) , grooming / sexual harassment , potential faking of physical disorders , mental health struggles / episodes .

i first met roiz a few years back ! we didn’t really talk much , until later on that year . he became more active in my server due to our mutual interest in " melliot " musicals . he seemed nice at first . maybe a little off sometimes , but nice . though this quickly changed and i grew uncomfortable . i didn’t speak up at this time — due to fear of losing someone i had grown to borderline depend on in such a short timeframe . let it be known that i am not trying to one - up anybody else ; this is purely my experience with him . nor do i feel as though my experience was worse than the victims of his sexual grooming : it wasn’t . my heart goes to each and every one of his victims .

one of the main things that sticks out to me is the way roiz would treat me regarding my identity . he seemed to view me as a cisgender lesbian ? which confused me , as i am very much not . he would also constantly make lesbiphobic jokes towards me, such as putting lesbians on his official introduction post as a ' joke ' targeted at me . this was almost neverending and made me feel incredibly invalid and insecure in my identity and who i was as a person . i started to feel like i would never be more than the " token lesbian friend " to people due to the way he would act around me whenever i mentioned my orientation , and this eventually led to a horrible mental health spiral where i truly didn’t know who i was anymore , or if i was worthy of being known as anything other than ' the lesbian friend . ' he would also only ever address me using feminine terms , when i have always been open about using all terms . i wouldn’t mind feminine terms sometimes ! but it wasn’t sometimes , as he would never use any other form .

another thing that i remember about our friendship was the way he would treat me as a disabled person . to add context to this , i have a medically recognised joint disorder which causes mobility issues alongside other things . he would make comments such as " blud can’t run " unprovoked . he did this whilst we were referencing adamandi characters ; none of which have mobility issues . additionally , he would claim to have the same issues as me shortly after i talked about them — prior to me discussing them , he had never mentioned any form of physical disability . i won’t go into any more detail about this specific aspect of our friendship , as there’s not much else to state , as well as my own struggles remembering the situation .

most importantly of all : roiz was my friend whilst engaging in inappropriate sexual contact with an eleven year old . i never picked up on it despite it being extremely clear looking back , and i would have never befriended him had i known he was doing this ; i was manipulated into believing otherwise . roiz also claimed that this person had ' abandoned him ' after they temporarily broke contact , evoking a feeling of sympathy from me towards roiz that i really shouldn’t have felt at all . however , i did notice that he would initiate sexual or otherwise inappropriate conversations in a public server with exclusively minors . it later came out that the one on the receiving end of these conversations was , in fact , an eleven year old boy being groomed by roiz . this eleven year old was — as you may have figured out already — my good friend over at @\haowenyang , who also has a post about the situation . i recommend reading it as he is the true victim here , not me . you can find that post here .

that just about sums up my experience with this vile , sickening person . once again , i am not trying to claim that my situation was worse than those he sexually harassed and / or groomed . i do however feel it is important to get it out there . this may not be entirely accurate and there may be some gaps , as my memories of my friendship with roiz have become fuzzy and unclear . but i felt it was important to share either way . thank you for taking the time to read this .

[mariathechosen1]

^^^^^^^^ THIS!!!

I’ve talking about this for so long!

Being a part of one minority does not shield you from harming another. I recognize that this post is about original fiction, but god this is genuinely a really huge problem in fandom:

A lot of you will marvel at queer representation….so long as it’s between two conventionally attractive white dudes.

In fandom, female characters are usually fit into several ‘acceptable’ categories. Either they’re shipped with another female character and become the lesbian couple of ‘sense’ that tell the main mlm couple to “get their shit together and just kiss already”, or all of their flaws and complexities are erased and they’re turned into the ‘girlboss’, a plot device at most. Female characters are almost always ‘the reasonable ones’, while the guys get to have actual personalities.

Or even worse, if a female character displays any flaws too difficult to just erase, they’re turned into the ‘bitch’. This is any female character who’s forced into the antagonist role in order to further the plot. She’s the one who tries to sabotage the main couple, or just someone who’s overly mean towards a ‘poor misunderstood’ male character. Female characters of color especially get pushed into this category, even if they’re the very opposite of this in canon.

What really ties these categories together is that the female characters are all turned into accessories. Either they’re emotional support, plot devices or just pure antagonists, they almost never have goals of their own.

Basically every fandoms I’ve interacted with force their female characters into these roles in one way or another, and it’s honestly real fucking disappointing.

“My story has so much gay rep in it!” Awesome. How are you treating your female characters btw

[gayasswitchbitch]

One Piece- Do they get jealous?

Synopsis: One piece headcannons! Do they get jealous when someone tries to flirt with you?

Ft: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Robin, Nami, Ace, and Law

Tw: none (I THINK) just insecure and jealous thoughts.

Luffy- He wouldn’t understand someone flirting in the first place. I think Nami would have to point out that another person is flirting with you, but even then he doesn’t get it. He would something along the lines of :

“There’s no way someone is flirting with y/n because they’re my partner! Geez.. you guys are dumb!”

He genuinely can’t fathom that someone would try to get with you when he is already with you!

Zoro- I don’t think so. He’s a very confident man and has a decent sized ego. He knows what he’s got. Hes not insecure enough to be jealous over someone liking you.

That being said, I don’t believe he’d just let someone flirt with you though. 100% ready to fight ESPECIALLY if someone puts their hands on you in any way. He’d tell them to back off because you’re taken maybe even a:

“Yeah my partner is really beautiful/handsome aren’t they?” with a smirk and an arm wrapped around your shoulder just to piss them off.

It’s his way of showing you off and making it known that he’s willing to throw down if needed, but he would most likely make another shitty comment and then leave with you in hand.

If they keep persisting though, then he’s going to get pissed off but he def tries to keep it cool before it gets to a fight breaking out.

Sanji- GOD YES. SO JEALOUS. Don’t even let mosshead BREATHE near you! Any time you give another person, specifically another man, attention he LOSES IT.

“Do you hate me, my love? Am I not good enough for you? Tell me what I can do better. I’ll do anything for you just please spare me a passing glance again! What could they give you that I can’t? I’d walk to the ends of the earth for you. I’d starve if it meant you could eat. My love please tell me you still love me!”

When all that happened was you were asking Usopp to help you with some gadget and it took too long in Sanji time. (Which was probably an hour)

He would def try to compete with anyone that did flirt. It was a fierce battle and there was no way he’s losing.

“Did you know that my y/n-swan loves the rain? You can always find her by a tree, blissfully meditating. They love it because it makes them feel like all their stress is being washed away. You can see it fall right off their shoulders. Did you also know that their favorite color is (whatever) ? You can always catch a twinkle in their eye anytime they see it. They have exactly 7 outfits in that color. Did you also know that they like to collect trinkets? They pick one up at every single place we stop the sunny at. Yeah I took it upon myself to be the one to find the trinkets now. Did you know that? Did you also know-“ and he wouldn’t stop.

I could even see him taking it as far as to tell them that they’re not good enough for and could never be good enough for you, then would immediately turn around and seek validation from you to make sure you love him and only him.

Robin- She doesn’t get jealous, she gets possessive. Babygirl has had everyone she loves taken from her so she’s making damn sure you’re not going away and that means you are by her side 24/7.

Most of the time no one even dares to think about flirting with you due to how scary she can be.

She’s a very observant woman. If someone liked you she would instantly spot it and give death stares.

If they still tried to approach you, she would be crossing her arms to take them out, smiling the entire time.

Nami- I think it would only happen if she genuinely thought someone was prettier than her and they were around you alot.

She would get sad and seek reassurance by trying to push your buttons. If that doesnt make her feel better then she would walk up to you and turn at glare at the person before wrapping her arms around your neck to pull you into a deep kiss. After she’s swirling around and giving a “Hmph.” And walking away.

Most of the time she knows she got it. If you wanna be stupid and cheat then it’s on you when she burns down all your belongings.

Ace- This man is already insecure as fuck and your ass is out here being fine as hell. It’s stressful because he knows you’re fine and he knows that other people know you’re fine. He’s like a damn guard dog that doesn’t stop barking. He finds ways to constantly bring you up and it’s a front to make sure everyone knows you’re taken.

“What was that? Oh yeah my partner is really smart! I’m so proud of you babe!”

“Man look at my partner. They’re so strong!”

If he sees someone flirting he gets an instant wave of anxiety. What if you finally realize there’s other people better suited for you out there? What if you finally see that he’s nothing special and that you should move on? What if you see that he’s really not as handsome as you think he is? And what if you think this person is more handsome/pretty? What if they’re funnier? What if he never gets to be the one to put a smile on your face again? Then it’s breakdown time. This happens at least twice a month. He will go on about how he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve to be here, doesn’t deserve so much goodness when his blood is so corrupt.

Just remind that baby that you’re with him because you love him, you do think he’s the most handsome and it’s insane that he doesn’t see it, that he’s the only person that can make you laugh so hard and so on and he’s good for another month. This only lasts for maybe the first year or so. The more you reassure him, the more confident he gets in your love and starts realizing he is worth of it.

Sabo- Like Robin, he’s more possessive. He will politely laugh along with any onlookers while you’re around and thank them for complimenting you, but as soon as you’re not in the room it’s near death threats.

“Look, I understand y/n is very beautiful/handsome.. but you try and flirt with them again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do”

He says it so calmly, eyes so wide, that it’s actually terrifying.

I could also see him being much more calm about it and making some obscure lie to make them go away like telling them you have a contagious disease and then forcefully coughing until they run away. He’d walk back to the base laughing his ass off too.

Law- I wouldnt say he gets jealous.. he gets irritated. He knows when someone is flirting with you and as long as they don’t take it to physical touching he won’t do anything. He trusts you and knows where you two stand but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cause burning pain in his chest.

Bepo may point out what’s happening and he’s like:

“I’m aware. If they needed help they would say.” But it’s honestly taking all his strength not to strangle the person.

Sachi and Penguin might stir the pot and ask their captain what he would do if you were enjoying it, which was an awful idea. Now he’s slammed a hand on the table and clenching his jaw.

“They don’t.” He says through gritted teeth.

“But-“

One word. The one ‘but’ was all it took for Law to jump out of his seat, rush over to you and grab your hand into his roughly.

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

If you tried to hesitate he’d whip his head around and give you a stare. One you know that if you disobey you’ll be scrubbing the deck for the next week. So he’s taking you back to the ship and throwing you against his office door in a heated kiss.

[yeahxsurexokay13]

bragger, lando norris

summary: fans constantly tease yn for always bringing lando up and being a bit of a simp for her boyfriend - which only gets worse after his first f1 win - so she writes a song about how if they were her they'd do the same.

warnings: none i think??? but let me know if i missed any. the song mentioned is 'bragger' by kelsea ballerini!! (((:

IN HONOUR OF LANDO'S VERY FIRST WIN !! 🥇

y/n.updates

Liked by fan22 and 1.340 others

y/n.updates Y/n's interview with WIRED where she answers the web's most searched questions about her is now out! Go give it a watch 😄

view all 208 comments

fan1 she looked painfully beautiful in this

fan2 how was lando in the answer for questions like 'does y/n speak spanish?' or 'is y/n a good singer?' lol

fan7 she said she didn't remember much from high school but knew some words lando had been taught by carlos sainz and that her boyfriend tells her she is... it kind of isn't that weird if u think about it haha

user1 The more I see of her, the more I like her

fan7 i spy with my little eye 1.6K people with no taste

fan3 interview was everything I hoped for and more! she's hilarious and relatable as always

fan4 new drinking game: take a shot every time she mentions lando

fan5 I've watched it like 5 times already lol

fan6 we need a tally for how many times Y/n drops 'Lando' in her interviews. can someone make that happen?

y/n.y/l

Liked by carlossainz55 and 1.890.321 others

y/n.y/l the vibe i bring to the function (ugly crying on facetime) !!! so incredibly happy for you @/landonorris. you did it 🧡🧡🧡

view all 3.501 comments

y/n.y/l also congrats @/oscarpiastri and everyone else at mclaren for an amazing race ((((:

oscarpiastri thank you Y/n! 🧡 ❤️ by author

landofan4 ok this is very cute and nice of her🥺🥺

fan1 ARE YOU STILL CRYING ? BECAUSE I AM DEFINITELY STILL CRYING

y/n.y/l started crying on lap 54 and haven't stopped since

fan2 new post from my fave lando norris fan account yay (also go lando!!!!!!)

user1 Well deserved 👏🏼👏🏼

landofan3 soy lago

y/n.y/l same

lnfour LFGGGG ❤️ by author

fan3 How many times do you think Y/n's going to mention Lando's win in the next week? Taking bets now

maxfewtrell It's the messy hair and smudged mascara for me

y/n.y/l knew i should've gone for the 'perfectly composed while crying' look instead 😔

landofan1 rip lando nowins: 2019-2024 ❤️ by author

landofan2 "you were scared? i wasn't. i was ok (laughs). thank you. i love you" lando 🥹🥹🥹

fan5 when did he say that? omg

landofan2 f1 posted a reel on their profile and you can hear him talking to her!

mclaren LANDO NORRIS IS A FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER 🏆

y/n.y/l I AM SO NOT CALM ABOUT THIS ??!!?

user2 i could've sworn i saw her at the race? why are they facetiming?

fan4 they could barely speak after the win tbh! this is probably a call in between interviews

user2 today's bottle smash hit different ❤️ by author

landonorris I've said this like a million times already today but I love you so much

y/n.y/l i love you i love you i love you i love you

y/n.y/l

Liked by pietra.pilao and 1.809.896 others

y/n.y/l if he was yours, you'd do the same without apologising... new single 'bragger' out now!!!! 💋💋

view all 3.890 comments

fan6 WHAT HAPPENED TO HWLLO ?? HOW ARE YIU ??

y/n.y/l 🫢🫢

fan1 "he's just too damn good not to mention" .....................i mean she is right we'll give that to her ❤️ by author

landofan1 USING THESE SPECIFIC PICS OF LANDO TO ANNOUNCE THE RELEASE OF A SINGLE ABOUT BRAGGING ABOUT HIM IS WILD !!!!

landofan5 that last video is doing things to me.........

landonorris i'm confused does anyone know who this is about?

y/n.y/l no idea 🤷🏽‍♀️ but let me know if you find out xx

landofan4 apparently about some guy named bob?? I'm not sure

fan8 HAHAHA I LOVE THEM

fan2 she really wanted to make sure she'd made her point clear with this dump omfg

fan3 her point: she has a hot bf and we don't

user1 Well played, Y/N. Well played. 🥸

fracisca.cgomes On repeat ❤️❤️

y/n.y/l lindaaaaaaa ❤️

landofan2 knowing all she's saying is about lando makes the song x1000 times better

fan7 so she saw the tweets... 😐

y/n.y/l i saw everything 👀 they were actually hard to miss hahaha

user2 "i understand why you would want him (i don't mind)" queen behaviour !!!!!! 👑👑

fan4 So this is how she gets back at us for all the teasing lol not complaining at all

landofan3 I can't believe this new song is actually inspired by the fans' teasing about Lando!!🤣

fan5 we joked, she delivered!!! bragger is actually a banger👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[the-indigo-symphony]

I don't think I'm gonna really say this better than the Jewish folks I've already seen talk about this, but I kinda feel obligated to on some level, so here we go

"Punch a Nazi" is all well and good, but over the past few years, I've seen lots of otherwise respectable and kind people drink the antisemitism juice until they become Nazis in all but recognized name. And I say "recognized name" because people have somehow forgotten that the core of Nazism is Jew-hatred, and not just being an extreme bigot (or even just a run-of-the-mill asshole), so people refuse to look at what's in front of them and name it (Nazism) for what it is. So many would rather use that serious, specific term as a general insult for anyone they disagree with online. Ignorance is bliss, after all, even if it means looking the other way as a mere mention of someone celebrating Hanukkah brings out accusations of blood libel from your fellow activists. (I'm not exaggerating with that example, btw, I've seen simple posts just about celebrating Hanukkah get filled with comments accusing the poster of supporting child murder. And a lot worse besides.)

If you want to punch a Nazi, if you're concerned about parallels to the years before the Holocaust... learn to recognize a Nazi before they get on national television and """throw their heart out to the crowd""". And perhaps more importantly, learn to keep yourself from going along with their shit for even an inch.

Listen to Jewish people. And when you do, be aware – there will be a part of you that is biased, that is antisemitic, and you have to pay attention to when it rears its head and you have to kill it where it stands. You have to listen to Jewish people, you have to have an open mind when you do it, you have to remember that you are not immune to subtly internalizing the idea that you, too, should be biased against a group that has been hated and scapegoated and lied about and cast as the root of all evil for centuries upon centuries.

The point of punching Nazis is to stop Nazism. And the first step to accomplishing that is keeping yourself from joining them because you didn't catch your bias becoming prejudice becoming discrimination becoming hatred becoming... any of the bullshit I've seen, any of the bullshit that Jewish people have had to put up with as antisemitism rises over the past few years.

No one is immune to propaganda. I know I'm certainly not. And none of the formerly respectable and kind people I've seen fall to hatred over the past few years were, either.

You want to be inclusive? You want to be accepting? You want to minimize harm and help bring about a brighter tomorrow?

Then make sure you stand alongside Jewish folk as you do it.

Name and kill the Nazi in your head before you go out punching the ones around you, or you may find yourself marching with them without a second thought.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment. 

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze. 

 König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others. 

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!” 

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect. 

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up. 

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child. 

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru. 

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes. 

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest. 

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!” 

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away. 

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!”  König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture. 

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you,  König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him���breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you. 

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt. 

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny. 

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone. 

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge. 

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.” 

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction. 

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl. 

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance. 

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.” 

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!” 

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience. 

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done. 

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling. 

Evolve, or die. 

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later. 

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.” 

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants. 

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA. 

The Lieutenant is one of them. 

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead. 

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t. 

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact. 

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself. 

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins. 

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.  

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was. 

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding. 

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed. 

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes. 

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide. 

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady. 

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire. 

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock. 

Your finger slams into the trigger. 

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself. 

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König. 

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary. 

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch. 

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later. 

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure. 

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König. 

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone. 

Anyone but you, that is. 

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter. 

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced. 

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down. 

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm. 

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment. 

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour. 

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you. 

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence. 

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up. 

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh. 

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest. 

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.” 

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given. 

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly. 

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.” 

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?” 

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

 König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?” 

He freezes, muscles going taunt. 

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?” 

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away. 

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate. 

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t��” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit. 

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over. 

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side. 

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air. 

König kneeled to you and bared himself. 

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this. 

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood. 

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug. 

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning. 

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he. 

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame. 

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears. 

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him. 

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat. 

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English. 

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril. 

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust. 

You find none. 

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening. 

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words. 

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize. 

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized. 

For you to come back to him. His partner. 

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths. 

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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[butchvamp]

i finished Harding's quest... whew... i don't like Harding. or i should say i don't like how nice the game treats her. she gets all of the emotional beats around the lore revelations while the elves are left to go kick rocks.

i pointed this out previously in another post, but the dwarves (and Harding specifically, and thus by extension Andrastians, too) get so much more sympathy from the game than any of the elves. you can clearly see it just in these two screenshots-- compare dialogue choices when comforting Harding after the reveal about the Golden City (and also important to note that the game assumes my elf is Dalish multiple times before this choice, but for some reason i can suddenly make her Andrastian):

versus the first real discussion you get to have with Bellara about the truth of the elven gods:

Bellara implies that everyone is right not to trust the elves, actually, because the elven gods (the same ones that enslaved her people btw) are bad and we should all feel bad about it.

and Davrin is unfortunately distanced from the Dalish, remarking that they're too traditional and stuck in the past (a racist trope that Dragon Age really loves for the elves), and only seems to care about how the elven gods make elves "look bad." we do get to see Davrin reconnect with one of the members of his clan later, which is a sweet moment that shows us a new side of him, but it exists more so to push along the griffon storyline than anything to do with Davrin (a problem i find quite annoying when it comes to Davrin's writing... they care more about Assan and "turlum" than him or his feelings. but that's a different post)

when we finally get to Heart of Stone, Harding has her big, emotional confrontation with a titan, and gets granted the memory of the titan's loss and all of their pain. she says some Choice lines, here.

who is thriving? the elves that were enslaved en masse by the Evanuris? the elves that are still enslaved and live in alienages? that are wholly, systemically oppressed throughout Thedas? then to follow it up with both of these lines, spoken to an elven Rook:

and i understand that this is the titan speaking through Harding, and we can be generous and say that they are addressing the Evanuris, and not elf Rook personally. but. uh. why doesn't my elf get to Say Anything. it's repeatedly insinuated that everything is the elves' fault, that the elves should feel guilty and that they should be held responsible for what happened to the dwarves (and by extension, the blight and everything bad that's ever happened including what's happening right now), and that they deserve to suffer because of what "they" did to the titans.... and there's no option to challenge this line of thinking at all.

and it's really frustrating that none of the elven companions are allowed this kind of emotional catharsis with the Evanuris. up until that one (bad) dialogue with Bellara, all of Bellara's comments/her reactions to the gods are treated as comic relief. none of them get to grieve their gods like Harding is allowed to grieve the titans-- they're not even allowed to be as angry with Solas as Harding is in some scenes. even Andrastians, in that one single dialogue choice, were afforded more sympathy and grief than the elves in this game.

it's a baffling choice, considering the plot, that elves are given so little grace or consideration. and i do think part of it has to do with the way this game has tried to distance itself from previously established lore as well as scrub itself clean of anything morally dubious-- it's all black and white and the game needs someone to blame, so the elves are bad because the Evanuris are bad, nevermind all that other stuff, because see, the elves actually deserved it all along! i don’t even think it’s unreasonable that Harding may have these feelings (even if they’re racist lol) but the fact you just have to accept Blame and the narrative never challenges her or Bellara’s guilt or Davrin’s apathy and instead just agrees with all of them and forces Rook to agree as well is shitty and takes it from “this character feels this way” to “the game is implying that everyone feels this way, and also that they’re right.”

it's really unfortunate because i do think this reveal about the titans and why the dwarves can't dream or use magic is exciting, it could cause some compelling conflict between the companions (but that's not allowed in this game at all unfortunately and you especially Cannot be even slightly rude to Harding, ever). and i do like the idea of her quest and what they're trying to convey here-- confronting this old, repressed trauma, and finding a way to reconcile with it and move forward.... but not at the expense of the elves, who also suffered massively at the hands of the Evanuris (and continue to suffer. right now)

bioware has been criticized repeatedly about their depiction of the Dalish, their indigenous coding, and even the mages, too, and i really do not understand what they were thinking with this, because it's just racist (and exactly what people have repeatedly criticized them for). this is why a lot of "fantasy racism" fails. you can't write a marginalized group as being responsible and deserving of their own oppression, that's not how it works!

[scoutswritingcorner]

Formal Disappearance

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: None

Song(s) I was listening to: Head Over Heels/Broken by Tears for Fears

A/N: I want more flustered Alastor guys. If I have to make it so be- Let me fluster the deer man.

Alastor looked around the room as Charlie explained her new “bonding exercise”, his gaze sweeping over the crew that was all here..Something was missing- No, someone was missing from the gathering. His sweet Doe was missing, how did he not notice this earlier? In fact he hasn’t seen you all day. The last time he saw you was last night when you were hiding your reddened face as you laughed at his joke. His ever wandering eyes snapping towards Husk causing the old tom cat to flinch and bristle up causing his smile to flicker for a second, before grinning wider. Oh, he knew something. “Husker, my dearest friend, do you have something to share with me?” Alastor tilted his head as he turned to face the bartender.

“Me? Nope, I don’t have anything to say.” Husk responded not meeting his eyes. Alastor’s eye twitched as his ears fell back against his head, his clawed finger tapping on his cane. His patience was running thin, he hated being apart from you for this long. But he would never mutter it out to a soul, his pride was far too big for that. “Know what?” Charlie asked, smiling tensely, she hoped this wouldn’t turn into a whole thing. Alastor glanced at her but didn’t answer her as Husk flinched from his sharp gaze. “They had to go do something for their job.” Husk answered quickly causing Angel to smirk, “They looked smoking, Smiles. You should’ve seen them before they left.” The comment made Alastor snap his neck back towards Angel Dust who flinched and backed away muttering an apology.

“Oh! They had a huge formal event for their job today, that’s why they aren’t here right now. They had left early in the morning while you were doing a broadcast. They didn’t want to bother you but they said they left a note in your room.” Charlie explained clapping her hands together causing Alastor to hum loudly, so that’s what the note was for this morning. Well, what’s a few more hours without you by his side? He wasn’t desperate for your attention,

~~~~~

It had been four hours (possibly even more) since you had been gone and Alastor was struggling to even be near the others, his temper was getting to him and he missed you oh so dearly. He missed your smile and how your voice seemed to travel through the hotel like one of his favorite songs. He couldn’t even focus on the paper in front of him, what was keeping you this long at this so called formal event? He let out a soft growl watching as his own shadow pulled his focus on the wall in front of him. A lovestruck smile on the pesky shadow as it pointed towards the foyer of the Hotel. He stared at the shadow with an eyebrow raised confused on why his own shadow was acting like this.

Then like a siren song piercing through the silence he heard your voice echo, “I’m sorry, Charlie. I didn’t expect it to take that long. I thought it would be an hour or two at best.” Your voice echoed down to the parlor causing him to immediately stand up from his spot on the armchair in front of the fireplace. His ears happily flickering as he heard your precious laughter echo after a few seconds of soft whispers. He hurriedly made his way towards the front foyer of the Hotel ignoring how his Shadow dashed after his long strides. If his undead heart could beat, it would surely be racing at this point just at the thought of seeing you after hours, his tense smile now becoming relaxed at hearing your voice.

Looking up from the bottle of water in your hand at the shadow of your boyfriend curling around your own before. “Dearest!~ There you are and here I thought you had run away fro-” His voice stopped suddenly like a broken record as he gazed at your form. How absolutely darling you looked all dressed up. How your outfit clung to you from the necklace you were wearing (specifically the one he had gotten you a few weeks back) complimented your whole outfit perfectly. 

A dark red blush creeped up his neck to his cheeks as his ears laid back on his head. Noticing how you stared at him, a small smirk on your lips as you tilted your head. “What’s wrong, Dear? Don’t you like my outfit?” You teased, causing him to look away with a dark blush coating his cheeks and glaring at the wall as if it offended him. Angel snickered and turned his gaze back to Husk, “I think Smiles adores it a little too much, Toots.” An almost feral snarl leaving your Beau’s lips at hearing Angel point that out. You walked closer, holding your hand out to him. “Don’t worry, Dear. I saved one last dance for you.”

Alastor looked down at you, blush still prominent on his cheeks but he grabbed your hand and leaned down to kiss your knuckles, “Only if you’d have me, Cher.” He whispered out only for you to hear. A soft smile gracing your lips, you nodded at his request. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dear.” He swore his tail was about to create a hole in his jacket from the way it wagged so fast, linking your arms together he walked you to another part of the hotel to dance the night away.

[miistersunshin3]

Star Struck ☆

Sal Fisher x meangirl!reader

a/n : Hihi my first work on this acc!! Thank you for the motivation and inspo @baxndaid ╰(*´︶`*)╯ If you like my work feel free to send me requests!!

- Life at Nockfell High is like a game and you don’t play to lose, in your first year you and your friends have already made an image of yourself: you are known as the popular kids or rather the mean girls.

- It was quite easy to archive this image of yours, you have quite the nice figure; shiny hair which always looks perfect and your most envious trait: a gorgeous face with a pearly white smile.

- So with all these traits that made you the person you are, you were quickly proclaimed to be the Queen bee of Nockfell high.

- It seemed like every girl wanted to be you and every guy wanted to be with you!

- except for one specific group… your friends call them the freaks, the group consisting of Larry Johnson, Ashley Campbell and Todd Morrison.

- You’d often make fun of them for various things, like their lack of style or music taste as you would say. So no wonder they didn’t quite like you.

…………………………………………………………………………….

- So one day while walking up to your locker which was right next to Larry’s your surprised to see a new kid, Larry called him Sally face.

- He seemed to have blue hair which was tied in pigtails and wore a mask that covers his whole face, you didn’t pay any mind to him except for when one of your friends spoke:

“Ugh great, the one time we get a new kid in school and he immediately needs to make friends with the freaks”

“Well would you rather him make friends with us? I wouldn’t, look at him” your other friend speaks.

“Yeah you’re right, are you some kind of creep? You look weird with that mask” the first one asks him in a sarcastic tone.

“Well at least none of us have to take two hours before school to get ready to have friends” Ashley says in a snarky tone.

“Oh shut it Campbell, some of us actually care about looking presentable, unlike you..” you say with a smile while walking away with your friends chuckling.

- Well yeah.. let’s just say Sal didn’t really find you all that amusing to be around.

- But at lunch times he just couldn’t help starting at you: the way your hair sits oh so perfectly on your head, the way the color your wearing makes your best features stand out beautifully and the way when your laughing the people are able to see your charming smile (even if it sometimes was him and his friends you were laughing about)

- And the poor boy thought you wouldn’t notice him staring, but you noticed it all and lowkey (highkey) found it cute and kind of pathetic how mesmerized he looked.

…………………………………………………………………………….

- One afternoon when the whole gang was hanging out in Larry’s room, Ashley asked Sal if he found anyone in school cute.

- And well….i hate to break it to you Ash (*´ー｀*)

“Cmon Sally tell usss, we deserve to know” she says in a slightly demanding tone.

“Yeah dude we won’t judge” Larry chimed in.

And then the dam broke..

“…you can’t be serious right now Sal” Ash says in disbelief.

“Dude like for real are you okay? Really? Her? She torments you like every day.. and her friends are massive assholes” Larry adds.

Sal just shrugs, all of the sudden finding the carpet very interesting.

…………………………………………………………………………….

- When they got back to school the next week of course you hadn’t decided to stop what you were so passionate about doing; pulling on his backpack to make him stumble back and then adding a snarky comment like “Watch your feet Sally face” while chuckling, flicking his head or pulling on one of his pigtails to set him off guard or just generally making fun of his prosthetic with your friends.

- To be completely honest even if it’s a cliche, you just wanted a reaction out of him because you just found it to amusing when he’d get all stuttery after you’d say something to him, even though he wouldn’t react like that if it was someone else saying that to him.

- But what would happen on Thursday, he could have only dreamt of..

Once again Travis was being his usual self when finding Sally and Larry in the hall during one of the breaks. “Why do you even come to school, nobody wants to see that freakshow of a ‘face’. You’re a waste of space Fisher, always will be” he spat at him.

You on the other hand were just in the bathroom, near where they were standing, overhearing everything. For some reason you felt angry, at Travis that is… why did you feel like this?

You decide to say something too, in your typical fashion.

Walking past them you purposely bump into Travis, stop walking and snarl out

“Watch out Phelps, you’re standing in my way. Oh and by the way.. only I get to say stuff like that, you understand?”

As you continue to walk past them you look back only to see Sal looking at you as well, you turn back around, after sending him a quick teasing smile and a small wink that is. (^_−)−☆

You may have not seen it but after you turn around Sal is beet red under his prosthetic, I guess it does come in handy sometimes…

…………………………………………………………………………….

A/N : I hope you guys liked it! Like I said feel free to send me requests (^^)v

Reader and Sal:

[dorabellingham]

Play with me

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when he is super bored and wants you to play football with him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The day was lazy in Madrid. Jude had finished all his tasks for the day early, and was now lying on the couch, swinging his feet as he flipped through the TV channels without really watching anything. You were sitting next to him, engrossed in a book, but you noticed your boyfriend's restlessness.

—You look like a kid on vacation who doesn't know what to do.

You commented, not taking your eyes off the pages.

—That's because I am, babe. —He replied, throwing his head back dramatically. —I need to do something! Play football, run, I don't know... anything that doesn't involve standing still.

You gave a short laugh and looked up at him.

—Darling, it's Sunday. No one wants to go out to practice or play with you right now. Rest.

But Jude didn't seem willing to accept the suggestion. He looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

—You can play with me.

He said, already getting up from the couch.

—What? Me? Play with you?

You closed the book and looked at him as if he had just suggested you fly a plane.

—Why not? It’ll be fun.

He replied, already pulling you by the hand.

—Jude, I’m terrible at sports. Besides, I don’t even have the clothes for it.

You protested, trying to resist.

Jude stopped, thought for a moment, and then gave you a smile that you recognized all too well —he was up to something.

—You don’t need any specific clothes. You can wear one of mine.

He left toward the bedroom before you could answer.

—Jude! No!

You shouted after him, but he was already out of sight.

A few minutes later, Jude returned with an old Borussia Dortmund uniform in his hands. The shirt was yellow with black details and clearly a few sizes bigger than yours.

—Here. It’ll fit you perfectly.

He said, handing you the uniform.

You held the fabric in your hands, shaking your head in disbelief.

—Are you serious? I don't even know if this will fit right.

—Of course it will. You'll be the most stylish player to ever step foot in our backyard.

He winked at you, picking up a ball that was leaning against the corner of the room.

Resigned and curious, you went to change. When you came back, wearing Jude's uniform, he started laughing out loud. The shirt fell like a dress, and the shorts seemed to almost disappear under the fabric of the shirt.

—I look ridiculous, Jude Victor!

You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

—You look perfect, sweetie. Let's go.

He replied, pulling you out of the house.

In the backyard, Jude placed the ball on the ground and began to explain the "rules" of the game.

—It's simple. I try to score the goal, and you defend. If I manage to score three times, you owe me a massage. If you manage to stop at least two goals, I'll make dinner.

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

—You're very confident for someone who knows I've never played in my life.

—I'm just trying to make this more interesting. Come on, Y/n. Show me what you've got.

He said, giving the ball a few touches and kicking it lightly in your direction.

You tried to catch the ball, but missed miserably. Jude burst out laughing.

—Okay, that was just the warm-up. Now go!

He encouraged.

You tried again, this time running to intercept his kick. Jude slowed down his strength and speed, giving you a chance to reach the ball. When you finally managed to kick it away, you celebrated like you had won a championship.

—That's it! Suck it, Bellingham!

You shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.

—Calm down, babe, the game isn't even over yet.

Jude said, laughing at your excitement.

You continued playing, with Jude clearly taking it easy and enjoying your expressions and comments more than the game itself. At one point, you tried to dribble the ball from him and ended up tripping over your own feet, falling on the grass. Jude ran to help you up, laughing.

—Are you okay, ace?

He asked, still holding back his laughter.

—Don’t underestimate me.

You replied, standing up and pushing him playfully.

After about half an hour, you were out of breath, but laughing nonstop. Jude, on the other hand, seemed like his usual self: full of energy and ready for more.

—I think I’ve had enough. I can’t do it anymore, honey.

You said, throwing yourself on the grass.

Jude sat next to you, looking up at the sky.

—It was fun, right? I knew you’d like it.

He said, smiling.

—It was. But I’m still terrible at it.

You admitted, laughing.

He leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

—You were amazing, Y/n. Really. Best teammate I could ever have.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

—You're just saying that because you want the massage.

—Maybe.

He replied, laughing.

And so, the two of you stayed there, enjoying the simple and happy moment together, as the sun began to set over Madrid.

[azzifuddfanpage]

Paige catching Azzi masturbating and she doesn’t let it go but instead tease her and join her in helping her cum

Caught

———— thank you for the prompt!!!🫶

ALSO PLEASE GIVE ME UR FEEDBACK AND COMMENTS OR IM NOT DOING ANOTHER PROMPT TN THANK YEW

———-

3.1k words tw: smut

themes: smut like all smut good luck 👍 (hope u sluts are happy 🤷‍♀️)

———— Paige and Azzi had spent the majority of the year attached at the hip. 

When the espys rolled around and Paige had to fly out to Los Angeles, Azzi couldn’t help herself but miss her after spending almost every waking minute together.

“U really have to go?” Azzi asked, her arms connected tightly against Paige's waist, and her face nuzzled into the crook of her neck. 

Paige took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Azzi’s coconut lavender shampoo. 

“I know baby, I have to go, but it’s only for a few days, and I’ll FaceTime you every night.” 

“Better be everyday too.” Azzi pouted. 

Paige's heart warmed seeing her girl all clingy to her, and she tightened her grip around her.

As happy and blessed she was to be given this opportunity, she was sad she couldn’t have her best friend/ girlfriend beside her.

———

Seeing Paige in the suit, her hair pulled back into the low messy bun, her eyes sparkling under the spotlight. Azzi couldn’t hide the nagging heat between her thighs that was desperate to be settled.

Paige was originally supposed to come home 2 days after the espys.

The first day after was filled with parties, and then the second day she had to meet with someone to work on her nil deal with her shoes. 

What Azzi didn’t know was that Paige had changed her flight, and instead of flying out that next morning, she would fly out that afternoon. 

———

Azzi on the other hand had more important things to worry about, more specifically, the evolving heat in her core that had been growing since the day Paige left.

She tried to ignore it, she tried to distract herself by watching frozen (5 times), working on extra skills in the gym (even though there was only so much she could do since her last injury), or even learning how to make baked Mac and cheese from scratch (one of paige’s favorites), but none of it seemed to scratch the itch that was so badly limiting her.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to skip out on watching the espys that night.

So when she clicked on the tv and saw the way Paige's fingers wrapped around the mic, she was already very fragile.

Somehow she managed to hold off that entire night and into the next day.

She continued to keep herself busy like she had done before, going to rehab, focusing on the summer classes she had taken to work through her masters, but by the time that evening rolled around and she opened TikTok she knew she was screwed.

The first video on her for you page was an edit of Paige in her espys fit.

Azzi’s eyes glazed over as she saw the way Paige's nimble fingers grasped the microphone, the level of confidence seeping out of her as she spoke. But what did it for her most was the way her veins popped in her arms the same way they did when her fingers were thrusting in and out of Azzi’s lower stomach, desperate to please her.

Azzi looked at her phone, the ache in her stomach too strong to ignore, she moved her fingers down to her waist band and slipped them into her panties, her clit already sensitive  to the touch as she rubbed against it, collecting her stick from the entrance of her hole.

She moaned at the contact, her eyes focusing on the video of Paige, her Paige, she imagined her fingers were Paige's needy long fingers that could never stay off Azzi.

Azzi didn’t even feel embarrassed at this point, it wasn’t like she had never done it before, when they had been long distance before they had to use similar methods, but now, she wasn’t used to this.

The feeling of her own fingers against her skin, would never match Paige's.

Paige knew her body better then she did, knew what made her whimper, what made her legs shake, what made her white syrup spill as Paige thrusted against her g spot.

As Azzi slugged off her shorts and began to lazily fuck her fingers into herself, she could already feel a release brewing, but it wasn’t the same. She felt as though the release she had was bottled up for so long that it was stuck. 

Azzi fucked herself, transitioning between thrusts in and out of herself, to soft rubs and aggressive rubs on her clit, she went back and forth with this for a while, her orgasim remaining close but still so far.

Azzi let out a frustrated moan, her focus going back to the video, pretending her fingers were Paige's, persistent and begging to be swallowed by Azzi’s needy pussy.

Azzi threw her head back moaning Paige's name.

——-

Paige was honestly tired from her long day of flying, but after 3 days without seeing Azzi, she too not only missed her emotionally, but she also had an ache between her legs that only a curly haired brunette guard from UConn could cure.

Paige walked into the suite and was met with an overwhelming layer of silence. 

She wanted to surprise Azzi. 

When Paige finally pushed open the door, she saw Azzi’s legs spread open, her fingers desperately against herself.

Paige felt her knees buckle at the sight.

The way Azzi was folded over, her body spread out on the bed, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. 

She watched as Azzi’s fingers dip lazily into her hole. 

Paige continued standing there, her eyes unable to leave her girlfriend's vulnerable frame. 

Azzi threw her head back- eyes still shut- as she moaned.

“Paige.” Azzi whimpered, her phone still lying forgotten in front of her. 

Paige smirked hearing Azzi’s breathy whimper of her name.

“Not even locking the door first damn az.” Paige finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Azzi let out a yelp, jumping at the sudden unexpected presence in her room.

Pulling out her fingers she threw the blanket over her.

“JESUS PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK” Azzi said a little out of breath from how startled she was.

“you actually just scared the living fuck out of me.” Azzi continued rubbing her face with her hand (not the one that was just inside of her) 

“Ya literally” Paige snorted, walking closer to her and pulling down the sheets exposing Azzi’s naked frame.

Her nipples were hard from the cold air, and Paige could see how wet she was under the light.

“Really couldn’t wait for me, could you baby?” Paige said, running her finger along Azzi’s abs.

Azzi shuddered under her contact, shaking her head embarrassed.

“I tried- just missed you badly.” Azzi said ashamed, her eyes subconsciously darting to her phone.

Paige looked at Azzi’s phone and then back at her. Both their eyes darted back and forth.

Paige lunged for the phone at the same time as Azzi, beating her there.

Flipping it over she unlocked it and smirked when she saw the edit of her playing on the screen.

Azzi threw a hand to cover her face.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of this am I?” Azzi asked, burying her face in the pillow. 

“Not if you want me to help you baby.” Paige says, putting down her phone with a smirk. 

She pulled Azzi's hand away from her face, using her fingers to tilt her chin towards her. 

“Missed this pretty face so much.” Paige whispered, leaning forward and climbing onto the bed so she was now hovering over Azzi. 

Paige ran her hand along Azzi’s neck, moving it up and tracing along her jaw.

She leaned forward and placed a soft open mouth kiss on the soft skin under her ear.

Azzi let out a whimper, her hips wiggling as Paige adjusted her position, her legs straddling either side of her. 

“So needy baby.” Paige whispered as she sucked a little on Azzi’s skin, releasing it and licking over the reddened skin with her tongue. 

“Please.” Azzi moaned as Paige's tongue licked at her lip, dipping inside.

Paige pulled her tongue away, sitting up slightly so she could look at Azzi’s desperate state underneath her.

“Tell me how much better I am at fucking you.” Paige whispered, as she watched Azzi’s lips pucker in the air, reaching out for Paige's. 

Azzi’s eyes opened as she pouted.

Paige laughed, her finger tugging at her puffy bottom lip. 

“Do u want me to help you finish or should I just let you finish yourself off.” Paige said simply, her finger running back down and connecting with her neck as Paige's lips connected back to Azzi’s.

As their tongues massaged against each other, Paige smirked against her.

Paige softly bit against Azzi’s lip, tugging at it and listening to the soft sigh that left her.

When she finally sat up, Azzi whined. 

“Paigeee.” She whined.

“Fine if your gonna be difficult, you’re gonna keep fucking your sled and we’ll see how far you get.” Paige decided, sliding backwards off Azzi’s bed, and facing her.

Azzi’s face turned red as she watched Paige needily stare at her throbbing pussy. 

“Don’t be shy now baby- all u have to tell me is how much better I am at making you finish.” Paige said with a smirk, her eyes running over her folds. 

Azzi, being the stubborn person she was, refused to let Paige win this.

She rolled her eyes and moved her fingers back down to her pussy, running them through the wetness that had collected near her hole.

She moaned at the much needed contact, and began to rub her fingers in small circles over her clit.

“Look at me while you do it.” Paige said her voice was soft but firm.

Azzi looked up at her slowly, her breath shakily.

When her eyes met Paige's, and she saw how dilated they were-drunk on the sight of her pussy, she almost came right from that.

“You know if I was touching you right now, I would have had you cum by now.” She said confidently, smirking as she watched Azzi crumble under her eye contact.

Azzi blushed even more, looking away from Paige and focusing back on pleasing herself.

Her fingers moved away from her clit, traveling down and dipping into her entrance. 

She inserted two of them gently, thrusting and curling them against herself.

She let out a seductive moan that sent shivers down Paige's spine.

Paige wanted nothing more than to shove Azzi’s hand aside and take her right there, but she was also stubborn.

She watched helplessly as Azzi’s fingers curled into her pussy, thrusting them in and out, speeding up.

Azzi moaned, sitting up on her elbow to give herself a better angle.

As much as Azzi didn’t want to give in, she knew she wouldn’t even have to. She knew paige. 

If Paige wanted to eat, she would eat.

Azzi looked up at her, “Paige.” She moaned, staring at her intently until Paige's eyes- that were entranced by her fingers- found hers.

“Fuck it.” Paige said practically jumping on her, ripping her hand away from herself and diving her mouth into Azzi’s pussy. 

Azzi let out a laugh as Paige tongue tickled her inner thigh.

“Fucking always get ur way don’t u princess.” Paige said as her tongue ran against Azzi’s wetness, spreading it across her pussy.

Azzi moaned loudly, her hand coming and wrapping in Paige's hair tugging her closer to her core.

Paige dipped her tongue into her whole, thrusting it in a couple times as her finger played with her clit.

Azzi let out a whine, needing more stimulation.

Paige brought her tongue up to her clit, exchanging the pressure of her tongue, for her pressure of her fingers, now filling her.

As Paige sucked and pulled on Azzi’s clit, her 3 fingers went to work, thrusting in and out.

Azzi, who had already gotten herself very close before, was now gripping at Paige's scalp, Paige's fingers slamming against her walls.

“Fuck P.” She moaned as paige lapped at her clit. 

Azzi adjusted her position, sitting up on her elbows to watch her as her fingers stilled inside her.

Feeling Azzi’s eyes on her, Paige looked up, still pulling on her clit. 

The sight of Paige's big blue eyes completely drunk off her pussy, the feeling of her fingers thrusting back into her, and her tongue flicking at her clit, was all too much for her.

“Fuck paige I’m gonna cum.” 

Paige smirked as she could feel Azzi’s legs shake.

Her fingers stilted inside her, and she lifted her head to her ear, letting her lips tickle it.

“Tell me how good I am to you.” She paused, pressing her lips to Azzi’s ear. Azzi moaned, the throbbing between her legs, too much for her to take.

“Fuck need you to fuck me paige please.” She whined, giving in as Paige sucked at her neck. 

“Tell me how much better I am at fucking you.” She whispered, her tongue soothing the now purple skin.

Paige moaned into her ear and Azzi caved, “fuck you know my body so well baby. You’re so good, please continue.” Azzi whispered, her hips thrusting up to get some type of friction.

“If you insist.” Paige winked, her three fingers diving back down and fucking into her. 

Azzi moaned, her abs flexing as she hunched over from the pressure of Paige's fingers hitting at her walls.

Azzi moaned, and Paige's fingers dove deeper inside.

Paige’s other hand grabbed Azzi’s stomach, pressing on it to stabilize herself.

Azzi felt her finger brush her g spot, and the band in her stomach snap.

Paige lowered herself down so she was angled at her pussy as she could hear her fingers squelching as Azzi released.

She drank up every bit of liquid that spilled from Azzi’s cunt.

“tastes so good, baby.” “Missed her so bad.” She said as she pulled out her fingers, letting more of Azzi’s cum spill out of her.

Azzi was a pile of moans, and Paige eventually pulled away from her cunt, climbing back up to connect with Azzi’s lips, letting her taste herself.

Paige swallowed Azzi’s moans as their tongues fought together.

After Azzi had caught her breath, she pulled Paige away from her.

“Hey just cuz I gave in and let you fuck me doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own.” Azzi assured, her eyes finding Paige's. 

“Whatever you say baby.” Paige said, snuggling herself into the crook of Azzi’s  arm.

“Wait no.” Azzi said, pushing her off of her.

Paige's head fell onto the bed. 

“What are you talking about Azzi?” Paige sighed.

Azzi climbed on top of Paige so she was straddling her.

“Why don’t you think I could fuck myself as good as you do?” Azzi asked, holding Paige's arms down so she couldn't resist her.

“Nah I know u could, I’m just better.” She replied cheesing. 

Azzi teasingly shoved her face away. 

“Ya we’ll see about that.” Azzi said as Paige's face contorted into a confused look.

Azzi pulled up Paige's shirt, placing soft kisses above her sports bra. 

Paige moaned as her teeth nipped gently at her skin. 

Azzi pulled down her bra, exposing her hardened nipples.

Azzi looked up to find Paige already looking at her with big needy eyes.

Without looking away, Azzi leaned down and wrapped her mouth around Paige's nipple, pulling on it and releasing it with a pop.

She watched as Paige moaned, throwing her head back.

Azzi smirked as she left her bra up, keeping her tits out as she trailed down to Paige's waist band.

“Lift up for me baby.” Azzi said as she dipped her fingers into the band of her sweats.

Paige lifted her hips so Azzi could pull off her sweats.

Azzi threw them behind her, leaning down to level herself with Paige's pussy that was still covered by her boxers.

Azzi ran a finger over her clothes pussy feeling the slick through it. 

“God Azzi.” Paige whimpered as Azzi pulled down her boxers too.

“Need you so bad princess.” Paige said, tangling her fingers in Azzi’s curls pulling her mouth towards her slick.

“Oh is that right?” Azzi said, her breath hitting against Paige's wet clit, sending a shiver through her body.

Paige whined at the feeling against her slick. 

She nodded, but Azzi wasn’t satisfied.

“Well maybe u should just fuck yourself since you’re so much better than me.” Azzi teased, running her fingers on her inner thigh, dangerously close to her aching clit.

“Bruh come on you know I didn’t mean it baby.” Paige whimpered as Azzi’s fingers traced over the sensitive bundle of nerves.  

“Maybe but I want you to tell me.” She whispered seductively, triggering a submissive reaction in Paige's body.

“Need your pretty fingers so bad sweet girl.” Paige moaned.

Azzi could have cum again just from Paige's words, instead she licked a long stripe up her pussy, rewarding her for good behavior.

Paige moaned, shifting her body so her hips were elevated and pressing into Azzi’s mouth. 

Azzi switched to kitten licks against her clit, motivated by her words.

“Such a good girl- doing me so well.” Paige moaned, running her fingers through Azzi’s curls, pulling them back and away from her face.

Azzi sucked on her clit, and her fingers ran through her wetness, dipping into her hole.

“Please baby- need you so bad pretty.” Paige moaned as her fingers inched deeper into her slowly.

Azzi felt Paige's breath shift underneath her.

“Ya you like that don’t you. Just love fucking this pussy huh baby?” Paige growled.

Azzi didn’t answer, instead she responded by thrusting her fingers deeper into Paige's pussy, thrusting them in and out.

Paige groaned, her hand pushing Azzi’s head into her pussy so she was sucking on it harder.

“Right there fuck baby you’re so good.” Paige moaned as Azzi’s fingers pounded against her g spot.

Azzi smirked against her clit, Paige's hand directing her movements so her tongue was now rubbing up and down against it.

With her fingers still fucking deep inside her walls, and her tongue sucking and lapping at her clit, paige could feel the orgasm closing in on her. 

“Gonna cum baby…fuck.” Paige moaned, her legs shaking around Azzi's body.

Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige's thighs, pulling her so she was closer to her.

Azzi sat up a little, pulling paige into her lap to change her angle, fucking her fingers deeper inside her, letting paige’s moans fill the air. 

Paige moaned loudly as Azzi’s teeth grazed her sensitive clit.

Before she could even realize what was happening, her cum was pouring out of her and Azzi was greedily drinking it up.

Paige was still out of breath as Azzi rode out her high.

“You like the way I taste mama. you’re so perfect. Such a good girl eating me so well.” Paige says as she pulled a strand of Azzi’s curls out of her face and pulled it behind Azzi’s ear.

Azzi continued to fuck her through her high until paige was physically pushing her away and pulling her up so she was laying her on her stomach. 

“You did so good pretty.” Paige whispered again to Azzi's cheek as she rubbed small circles against her bare skin.

Azzi sighed contently as she nuzzled deeper into Paige's chest, letting the warmth of Paige's skin surround her.

[melercies]

imagine this...

pairing(s): nam-gyu x pinkguard!reader (specifically triangle) x thanos imagine

warning(s): gender-neutral reader(!!), slightly suggestive at the end. Read at your own risk, intended use of lowercase. my best interpretation of these two characters.

author's note: I PULLED UP BOTH OF THEIR WIKIS TO READ AND TRY GET THEIR CHARACTERS FROM THEIR PERSONALITY. i remembered that i had request this as an anon towards someone's blog (specifically midnite-c6; heavily inspired by their incredible writing), and figured to emphasize it with some ideas of my own. i'm grateful for them for writing it. I did give a subtle background for the reader too. :) Please let me know if I missed anything. Likes, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated!

you were simply just like any other ordinary pink guard, managing, upkeeping, and enforcing the rules of this horrendous game under the order of the Front Man. since you were given the opportunity to work as a soldier in the games due to the hopeless situation you were in before becoming a pink solider. desperate times calls for desperate measures you suppose.

all you had to do was follow the rules; never remove your masks to reveal your identity, no questioning of any command given or initiate any friendships to gain any forms of attachment. just eliminate players and make sure none of the contestants broke any of the game's guidelines. simple enough, right?

wrong. there were two particular contestants that had caught your attention. you shouldn't have been intrigued by them, you mentally scolded yourself. but it was hard not to be. they were literally acting as if these death games were the same as a children's playground. it was absurd. but it was amusing...to say the least.

after watching the purple-haired contestant who seems to go by the name, thanos, who was skipping around, killing players and having the time of his life in red light, green light along with nam-gyu following around, and partaking within the tense conflict between player 333, thanos and himself, you've made your choice.

of course, you were cautious and careful about the decisions you've made. you were as subtly as possible, if you were caught, dire consequences were to be delivered your way or, to save the effort and time, kill you.

you've made sure to ensure their safety for now, wanting to keep them alive to draw out the possibilities as to what they could do next to entertain you. even if it meant to kill other contestants unfairly as you kept a sharp eye towards their direction.

you've given them small advantages sneakily here and there, managing to slip by without a singular witness or anyone catching what you were doing. going from preventing conflicts that could get both of them killed to giving them extra food within their meals given in comparison to other players' meals.

of course, it didn't take long til one of them took notice before informing the other. the only question lingering within their minds, why? they knew you were one of the guards who were tasked to eliminate those who lose within the games, so why are you...helping them?

despite the triangular mask you wore to conceal your identity, they plan to find out who you were and confront to you. both keeping a rather particular eye on you. they knew which guard you were, often catching you taking a slight subtle glance towards their direction or they could just sense it, they just fucking knew it was you.

especially when it came to meal times, you would stand there with one hand that held a drink and the other that held the given sustenance (if you could even call it a proper nourishment for the players...) giving each player their limited ration, ignoring their complaints and noises of disbelief until it came to them.

the main dormitory was noisy, filled with the atmosphere of weary players who had just endured another brutal round. the smell of the tasteless food wafted through the air, mixing with the lingering fear and tension that never seemed to fade in this place. the players grumbled and complained about their meager rations, their voices filled with frustration, but you, as always, stood motionless behind the food station, handing out the same bland meal to each one of them.

the mask you wore, that stark triangular symbol, was meant to hide everything; your face, your emotions, your identity. to blend in with the other guards, to remain invisible. but it was becoming harder. they were starting to notice you.

as you handed out the meal to the next few contestants, you couldn't help, but feel their eyes on you. nam-gyu's calculating gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, though he remained silent. thanos, however, was blatant. both of them trying to figure you out despite the appearance you kept up was hard enough to get a read from.

when thanos had appeared next in line, you could feel the tension between you, thick and almost palpable. thanos was grinning, his usual cocky self, but this time there was something behind that grin, something more calculated in the way he sized you up. nam-gyu stood behind him, calm as ever, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. an awareness that wasn't there before.

you moved to hand thanos his ration, a carton of milk and bread wrapped in plastic. you handed it to him with your usual blank expression, but before you could pull your hand away, you subtly slide an extra piece of bread, quickly and barely for anyone to notice.

thanos didn't flinch, didn't make any overt sign that he saw it. he simply took the rations with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes not leaving you for a second. he stared at the food in his hands, looking back at you with a sly, knowing smile before turning around and heading back to his bunk. nam-gyu, on the other hand, stepped forward, an undeniable intensity within his eyes. he knew. they both knew. the question now was what they'd do with this knowledge.

without saying another word, you turned and moved to hand nam-gyu his rations, finding your own heart racing, but maintained the same calm demeanor as you slipped an extra piece of bread. just the same thing you've done for thanos, feeling nam-gyu's gaze on your form, sharper than ever.

his fingers had brushed against yours for moment, and you felt a brief shiver at the subtle touch before he politely thanked you. he took his rations and headed where thanos was sitting. you knew that thanos and nam-gyu would be conversing upon it, no one noticing that they were getting these advantages when the other contestants were too busy conversing upon what could possibly be ahead for them or the food in front of them.

you handed out the last of the rations with a quick, controlled motion, ignoring the lingering eyes of thanos and nam-gyu. "enjoy your meal," you stated, your voice cool, almost disinterested. then, without another word, you turned and moved away, the weight of their scrutiny following you.

it was risky. you knew it was, and yet, you still continued on. both of them were still alive. because of you.

there was at one point, where thanos had tried offering you the small pills inside his cross necklace which you were questioning as to how it managed to get within the game itself with no detection. which you declined, shaking your head while nam-gyu was poking your body, and touching your mask. you didn't know if he was doing this out of curiosity or simply for his own enjoyment, but each touch caused you to flinch and when he was about to pull your mask off, you didn't hesistate to lift your gun and point it directly at him as a warning. obviously, they backed off from that, not wanting to get killed.

questions would tend to spur towards you between both of them, but you never answered a singular question of theirs. and it certainly didn't take long til a confrontation occured during your shift of covering the bathrooms, making sure no one is causing trouble. one of your shifts would be where things would certainly take a turn for you.

the dimly lit corridor of the bathroom hallway felt strangely still, a quiet echo of the chaos that always surrounded the players. you stood with you back pressed against the cold wall, your triangular mask in place, you eyes scanning the hallway within an unblinking focus. the task was simple, stand guard, make sure no players caused trouble, and ensure no one broke the rules. as long as you kept your distance, it was easy to blend in.

but tonight was different. the air felt charged, a tense electricity crackling around you as you stood. you had a feeling something was coming, and when thanos and nam-gyu appeared, you knew the storm was finally here.

thanos strutted toward the bathroom door with his usual carefree swagger, his purple hair messy and wild. but his eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, flicked toward you for a split second, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. he had already started to sense something.

behind him, nam-gyu walked more slowly, his posture calm, but there was a sharpness in his steps. he had always been more observant, and it didn't take long for his eyes to lock on you as well. you did your best to keep still, not giving anything away, but they were too good. they knew.

"you," thanos's voice broke the silence, teasing but with an edge of something darker. he stopped in front of you, his lips curling into a smirk as he looked you over, then glanced to nam-gyu. "i knew it was you. always watching, always giving us just enough. don't think i didn't notice, guard."

"you've been helping us," nam-gyu said, his voice low, almost cold. "extra food, extra attention...you're not just doing your job. you're playing a different game, hmm?"

thanos's grin widened, sensing the opportunity. he leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned against your triangular mask. the one thing that separated both you and him, and you somehow found yourself gripping the firearm in your hands tighter. "what's your angle, guard? what are you getting out of this? you've been pretty... generous to us, haven't you?" his voice dripped with amusement, but there was something more dangerous in the way he spoke now.

you stood there, frozen for a moment, your heart pounding under the mask. you have been careful. you have bee subtle. but here you were, both of them were standing in front of you, catching onto your quiet acts of defiance. the games weren't just about survival for them; they were about control, about manipulation and right now, they were flipping that dynamic onto you.

before you could respond or move away, thanos's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a sudden force that left no room for protest. "you're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and insistent, a playful glint in his eyes as he pulled you towards a door that lead to the men's bathroom. "we've got some questions for you, guard." nam-gyu didn't need to speak; the message was clear. you weren't going to get away without giving proper answers.

the door to the men's bathroom slammed shut behind you as thanos pushed you inside, dragging you further into the dimly lit room. it was empty; just you, thanos, and nam-gyu.

thanos leaned in, his breath hot against your mask as he whispered, "you thought you could sneak by, didn't you? you thought you could just help us without anyone noticing." he took a step back, his grin growing wider, more dangerous.

nam-gyu moved closer, his movements deliberate, but a quiet power was evident in his eyes that sent a shiver through you. "you've been careful, but not careful enough," he said, his voice mockingly soft yet piercing. "we know what you've been doing. and now you're doing to explain it to us, right?"

you took a slow step back, but thanos was faster, his hand shooting out to block your retreat. his fingers brushed against you as he leaned in once more. "you've been playing both sides, haven't you? helping us, getting close. do you like it? do you like being close to us?"

the tension between the three of you was thick, the silence hanging in the air, broken only by your steady breaths underneath the mask. you had never been this close to them before, and now the weight of their scruntiny was more suffocating than you had anticipated.

thanos stepped forward, his face inches from yours, his smirk never wavering. it almost felt he and nam-gyu could see through your mask. "you're not so good at hiding, are you? i can feel it. you want something more from us, don't you?" his voice was suddenly soft, almost teasing though, as if he were savoring the moment. "maybe you just want to be seen."

nam-gyu didn't speak immediately as you felt nam-gyu suddenly holding onto your mask, almost as if he was about to lift it and reveal your identity towards them. his other hand holding onto your shoulder in a grip, rubbing it slightly. you didn't stop him, remaining completely still. "you're playing a dangerous game, y'know?" nam-gyu murmured close.

the words hung in the air, thick with tension, and just as you thought they might let you go, thanos leaned in, a final whisper of threat in his voice. "i think you like this. being caught. being trapped between us." his hand grazed your arm as he spoke, his grip tightening slightly on your wrist.

nam-gyu's eyes traced over you, intense and unwavering, his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took a step closer. his voice was low, almost a whisper. "you'll figure it out soon enough," he murmured. "what it really means to play with us...and what happens when you finally stop pretending you're not interested." his hand then lifted up your mask.

[inknopewetrust]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

Summary: when the storm chasing is done and the weather doesn’t sit right, Scott is always there to reassure you everything will be alright [Scott Miller x Reader] [WC: 1.6k ish]

Warnings: none really. Fluffy romance, for once Scott isn’t an asshole, maybe a little suggestive at times but nothing that merits a warning. This fills the gap between the next massive Scott fic I’m writing.

Quick Links: Masterlist (including all twisters fics)

In the middle of nowhere Oklahoma, the sounds of rain pattered on a front porch covered by a roof. Its meeting of wood had once been rhythmic. Each beat building anticipation of a storm in the distance—you loved that feeling.

And you curled up on the bench beside the door to watch it fall. Gently and softly until it drowned out the nothingness of your home.

It was heaven—if you just stayed awhile and simply listened.

On nights like these, Scott had learned the phases of your own storm chasing to a specific pattern.

The revelation that it was indeed going to rain came first. A light excitement that flashed before your eyes in hope that perhaps it would evolve into something far for exhilarating in the darkness. Second came the socks over your bare feet even after the evening had settled and there was no cause for it.

You’d be going outside—the moment the socks slipped over your toes he knew it.

And then when the rumbles or the pattern started, you’d be gone. Disappearing to the outdoors as though you’d live there in the wilderness to simply live amongst the weather.

He always questioned why you had never chased them, truly, yourself. Scott had never met someone so admiring of a natural phenomenon that exceeded your appreciation.

But it also happened to be a Friday night on this particular evening. One that was far and few between the longer the seasons lasted for his work and the end had just occurred. All he wanted was to hold you, feel you, love you, and yet you chose the storms he ran away from.

The thunder was sounding closer. The echos marched through the home you shared and he tapped on his leg in thought as the television set went out of service and the weather was all that was left.

So, he got up.

A prolonged squeal ached as the porch door opened beside you, taking the attention away from the sky alight with fireworks of Earth’s greatest display. From your spot on the bench, you looked up at Scott as he took in the sights you were captivated by.

It’d been so long since he’d been home that even in the darkness of your favorite storm, he’d still steal your attention. A blanket in hand, he was comfort embedded in the walls.

“I guess this is better than whatever’s on the tv, huh?” He commented gruffly. You shrugged, leaning your head back onto the siding.

“I can watch tv all day,” you countered. “It’s not everyday you get views like this.”

The lights captured you again. Breaking and busting through the clouds far away. It was beautifully bright.

“No,” he bit the inside of his cheek and shut the door. “You don’t.”

“Are you gonna sit with me?”

Scott knew you did not need to ask for him to sit with you yet you always did. An offer he couldn’t refuse—his heart wouldn’t let him. You stuck stakes into them and dragged him along for the rest of eternity in his eyes.

He hummed, holding out his hand covered with the blanket that normally rested on the back of the couch. Scott knocked his head to the side in instruction for you to move aside.

You shuffled to the end of the bench but knew it wasn’t enough. Therefore, you stood up, allowing him the space to sit on the furthest edge of the bench. Scott bent a knee, offering a hand and twinkle in his eye to you.

“Oh, look at you,” you quipped. “Such a gentleman.”

He tugged on your hand which only caused you to tumble into him. Knees meeting the bench with a thud, you caught yourself on his chest. His breath fanned your face as his chest lifted in a chuckle at your expense.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he feigned. “I don’t think you’d let me walk through the door if it wasn’t.”

“Well I don’t know if this is a gentleman’s way of handling their lover.”

A ghost of a smile met his lips. His eyes bared down to your lips before he pecked yours gently.

“There’s plenty of ways I can hold you if you ask nicely enough.”

“Uh huh,” you laughed. He let you go to turn your back to him before sitting down in the space between his legs. “How about you just hold me for now and we can decide on the rest later.”

Scott took the blanket he had brought and laid it over you both.

“You’ve got yourself a deal there, baby.”

You rested against his chest as the rain continued to rush to the ground. The sound, like before, drowned out everything else that didn’t matter as much as the shallow breathed of Scott and the hum of a constant pour.

It was perfect.

All of the love was filling a room that expanded beyond the porch of your house. You leaned your head back, relishing the feel of his head against yours as his arm wrapped around your front and held you securely. You’d bend every piece of you to rest forever in this position.

It was heaven.

“Hey,” against the rain, Scott’s voice murmured into your ear deep and calm. You turned your head into him as a signal of an answer.

“I love you,” he whispered.

And yeah, maybe it was more than heaven. Maybe it was something far better, more real than anything you had the imagination to conjure. To be loved unconditionally in the honesty of a stubborn man’s silence was a reward far beyond the peace only dreamt.

You were in your own heaven—one you were so lucky to have.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you!!

Also this is not proofed at all as of today. Sorry for errors.

[grandline-fics]

hi! i just read all of your oneshots and they’re perfect, i’m in love. hoping it is okay to request something with zoro having a soft spot towards reader? he doesn’t even realize it a first, but since reader is somehow quiet and gentle (not weak though!) he starts to take note of small things to do/don’t do or notice their actions (ex: taking care o the crew) a lot more than others. thank you. <3

DESCRIPTION: Who knew you were Zoro’s soft spot? Apparently both of you are the last to know 

WARNINGS: none, just pure fluff

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 856

A/N:  Thank you for your kind words and for this request! I hope it's to your liking. I've been feeling a little under the weather these past couple of days so some fluff was needed <3

MASTERLIST

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

It’s tiny things; little, practically meaningless things that are so easy to miss but they’re there. When you first joined the crew, your presence fell into the likes of his and Robin’s; strong but relatively quiet and easily looked passed if you wanted. You didn’t see the point in wasting energy needlessly and knew the value in waiting until letting yourself be known. Zoro unknowingly enjoyed that kind of calm you naturally brought and found himself gravitating towards it because it seemed even when he was in his own space you were still in his eye-line. In the beginning he found it a little strange that it kept happening, he knew you weren’t following him. Hell most of the times you were on the other side of the ship or talking with someone else so he cleared it as coincidence and thought nothing of it. As time went on, there was a lot he was putting down to mere coincidence. 

When you were all exploring new islands it was purely happenstance that you two walked side by side. Neither of you were the type to bound about and race ahead without a cause for urgency. He found he didn’t get lost as easily when you were close. You always seemed to know the way to go. On one trip Brook had commented to Zoro how lucky he had been that you were there to talk to him at the right moment otherwise he would have kept walking towards a path that would have taken him towards a ravine. Because of your voice suddenly pulling him into conversation he’d kept the right track and avoided possibly injuring himself and getting a lecture from the others. Lucky right?

It was also luck of the draw that when eating or drinking off the ship, Zoro was sat at the table in such a way that his back blocked you mostly from view from any unwanted stares. It was never in a subconscious way to keep you from interacting with others but it was like another sense he had that he was able to tell when you just wanted to sit with the crew and enjoy your meal. It seemed to go both ways too in that regard. If women tried to approach and flirt with him you effortlessly had a way of making a joke to dissuade them and steer them in Sanji’s direction. Was any of it done out of jealousy, possessiveness of the other’s attention, or an overwhelming need to protect? Not in the least, it was just doing what needed to be done to help out a friend and fellow crew-mate.

On the Sunny it’s no different. It’s not even a second thought, his body just reacts without thinking. In the early, barely waking hours when he’s finished his night watch and is about to grab a quick snack before training he always pulls out a specific mug from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. It’s never for him and like clockwork you appear just as he’s finished drinking a glass of water. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stifling a small yawn you always offer him a small smile and greeting that is returned. You both pass each other, your only motivation is caffeine to see you through the last of the watch before everyone else is awake while he goes to the crow’s nest to train. 

After all this time it’s never occurred to you to question why your mug is waiting for you when you rise. You don’t know why but it’s something that immediately makes your morning a little bit brighter. It’s also routine now that an hour or so after breakfast, you and Zoro both nap; him to rest between his training sessions and you to grab another couple hours after your night watch. Nami occasionally glances up from her charts to shake her head at your sleeping forms. Robin finds it adorable while Brook chuckles, nostalgic over youth and love’s first stages. 

“Jeez they’re both so clueless.” Sanji grumbles, he’s accepted long ago that he doesn’t have a chance with you but is so infuriated that nothing has actually happened. He lost you to the swordsman who hasn’t even thought to make a move. Usopp grins and watches as you stir slightly in your sleep which in turn makes Zoro react before his body relaxes again. Currently he’s lying on his back with one hand tucked behind his head. While the other that’s draped over his chest, his fingers almost touching yours that are curled by your head as you sleep on your side. 

From his spot on Sunny’s head, Luffy grins. “I don’t know. I think they do know, in their own way.” It’s the little, insignificant things that you both do for each other that are easy to miss and while a lot of little things add up into something bigger, none of it compares to the way that you and Zoro unknowingly look at each other at any given chance. Because that is something so big that no one else can ignore.