#the post is already too long and i tried to make it shorter but

[aenslem]

STAR TREK: VOYAGER (1995–2001) ⤷ Maneuvers

[sabertoothwalrus]

here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.

I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:

- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon

- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they’re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.

- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕

- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.

- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.

- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.

- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.

- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.

- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.

- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.

- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)

- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.

[racinggirl]

that's my girl

Lando Norris fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: it took me a bit longer as I have been quite busy this last week, but it's hereeee! I hope you like it, I have to say I love badass Y/N a lot, so thank you for the request! It's a bit shorter, but we need some variation in life, don't we? Let me know your thoughts! It's not proofread, so be aware for any minor mistakes, if there are some. Lots of loveeee. Don't forget to send in requests! I love all the requests I've gotten so far 🫶🏼

‘’What kind of snacks do you want?’’ You asked your boyfriend as you were preparing some somewhat healthy snacks before he would go live on Twitch. You were filling up a bowl with Maltesers because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t like those? You then decided to grab a knife and cut the cheese and cucumber to make the tray snacks somewhat healthier.

‘’Can you lay on the tray?’’ Lando wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, causing you to tilt your head when he planted soft kisses on your neck. ‘’You already had that snack not too long ago, mister Norris.’’ You teased, keeping your eyes closed as you felt his hands making its way under your shirt, close to your bra.

‘’Nah, ah.’’ You put down the knife and took both his hands in yours, moving them down and placing them on your hips before reaching back for the knife. Your action caused him to groan, and you simply smirked as you felt how much he needed you, because let’s be honest here, it was impossible to not feel him through his jeans.

‘’Grapes, mango?’’ You continued, focussing back on the tray of deliciousness in front of you. ‘’Chocolate covered strawberries.’’ He replied, walking to the fridge. ‘’Yeah, ehm, about those…’’ You bite your lip as you looked over at the – way too perfect – McLaren driver, who happened to be your boyfriend.

‘’No, you ate them?’’ He asked, turning 45 degrees to look at you with puppy eyes. ‘’Oh stop it! You ate my piece of cake the other day!’’ You laughed, feeling his hands on your body as he tickled you. ‘’Lando! Stop!’’ You managed to breathe out in between your laughter.

‘’You ate my strawberries!’’ He exclaimed; his arms wrapped tightly around you as you tried to somehow escape his grasp. But he was strong, of course he was, he was a Formula One driver.

Talking about his job, you were proud of him. The two of you had been dating for a few years now, the world only finding out in your 3rd year of dating each other. You had no idea how because you never purposely tried to be secret about it. You never went out in public, never really posted about one another on your socials, either. You only really started doing that when people noticed your relationship.

You were almost done with your degree now, though. Meaning you had more time to come to some of his races. You loved going there, not only to support your boyfriend, but also to learn about all the behind the scenes of the sport. It was something that fascinated you ever since you started dating Lando.

However, you tried to stay out of the camera’s as much as you could. You never held hands when you walked through the paddock with him; if you walked through the paddock with him. Most of the time you arrived after he did because you either had to finish some online work in the hotel room, or because you wanted to stay out of the spotlight.

You never really enjoyed being in front of the camera’s, hence why you were so invested in all the behind-the-scenes stuff. It wasn’t because you weren’t confident enough, not at all, because you were, and that’s something Lando always admired about you, especially when you started to receive hate. You just never thought being in front of the camera suited you, those cameras around you, people asking questions, it just annoyed you, and you decided you didn’t want to take a part of it.

It didn’t mean you never supported him, though. You were always there for him, and he knew. He never complained, he never told you you weren’t supportive, no. He loved how your relationship was different than the ones from all the other WAGS, he felt like he wasn’t sharing you with the entire world, that you were just his, and that’s exactly how you felt, too.

‘’Good evening chat! Long-time no see, ey?’’ You heard Lando’s smile through the words he just spoke, waving at the camera as he leaned back in his chair. He glanced over at you, his eyes gliding over you before quickly shooting you a wink. You laughed and rolled your eyes at his action, simply knowing the chat would comment on his wink.

‘’I’m good, enjoying the off season as much as I can.’’ He smirked. ‘’Aren’t we, babe?’’ He asked and you got up, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘’I for sure am.’’ You winked before walking to the kitchen to get your snacks.

You always were seated outside of the camera’s view. As much as you loved staying out of the cameras at the track, you did the same whenever he streamed. You never did it purposely, though. You never hid away from the cameras; you simply never purposely were in front of them.

‘’Grabbing snacks!’’ You yelled from the kitchen when you heard Lando read the comments. ‘What’s Y/N doing?’ and ‘Where’s your girlfriend going?’

‘’She’s getting snacks, chat. You won’t believe it, but we actually prepared those for tonight.’’ He smirked, sipping his water as he read through the comments. ‘’We?’’ You asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile. ‘’Right, sorry chat, my lovely girlfriend Y/N prepared the snacks.’’ He said, watching you placing the tray of delicious food in front of him.

‘’I’m just missing one snack on here, but sadly there’s not enough room on the tray for that.’’

‘OMG HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT’

‘HAHAHAHA Lando naughty naughty boy’

‘DUUUUUUDE LANDO WHAT LMAO’

You sat down next to him, your legs over his as you grabbed a Malteser from the tray. ‘’You’re very original with your jokes tonight, Norris.’’ You smirked, reaching for your phone before you opened TikTok, keeping yourself entertained when Lando continued his stream.

He loved this about you, he loved the fact that even though he was live, streaming and being in front of cameras, you never backed down. You never changed when the cameras were there, you always stayed yourself. That was probably the thing he admired most about you, and things he definitely learned from you.

As the hours went by, the tray of food was nearly empty. You got up a few times to go to the bathroom, get something to drink, get some more snacks and so on. Lando got up to go to the bathroom for the second time this evening, leaving you alone with chat.

You kissed his lips before he left the room, you simply deciding to pop up in front of the camera this time. You read some messages, smiling as they told you you looked beautiful. ‘’Aw, thanks guys, or girls, that’s sweet.’’ You replied, leaning your chin on your hand as you continued reading a few more comments.

The second you heard him coming back in the room, you commented on a question in the chat, Lando sitting next to you with a smile on his face. He loved it when you interacted with his fans, which you sometimes did. It’s not like you were completely offline when it came to the fame he carried with him, you just never really bothered to become an influencer like some others did.

‘’Nah, ah, Norris, they are asking me questions now.’’ You teased, holding your hand up when he started to talk again.

‘HAHA Y/N’s such a vibe’

‘Yeah Lando, we’re chatting with your girl now!’

He simply chuckled, pecking your lips when you looked at him and he then enjoyed the scenery he saw in front of him.

After a while, you got up from your chair, going to the kitchen to refill your glass of water for the fourth time that evening, and made your way back to the room when you heard your boyfriend reading some comments out aloud.

‘Y/N doesn’t love him, she never holds his hand in the paddock, what a supportive WAG.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at that comment, and just as Lando was about to say something to defend you, you put your glass of water on the table in front of you.

‘’Last time I checked, my job title wasn’t ‘WAG’. I’m an engineer, not a runway model.’’

Lando looked at you, amazed, proud, and smiling like an idiot. ‘’You heard her, chat.’’ He smirked. ‘’That’s my girl.’’ He whispered happily.

The end of the stream was nearing, and you got up to head to bed. ‘’Goodnight, babe, I’ll see you in a bit.’’ You whispered before placing a kiss on his lips, smiling against them as he returned the favour. You glanced over at chat one last time, feeling Lando’s hand on the back of your upper leg.

‘’Next time I’ll open the ‘WAGs Handbook’ to catch up on some of my duties.’’ You smirked at the chat. ‘’Goodnight chat, sleep tight.’’ You blew them a kiss before walking out of the room, heading straight to bed.

Not long after you positioned yourself in the king-size bed Lando had in his bedroom, you heard the door opening; your boyfriend making his way to you. ‘’You’re amazing, please never change.’’ He whispered and pressed his lips on yours, firmly.

Later that season

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 So Long, Quantico.

Prison Reid x Fem!reader

Read part two here!

Summary: Your best friend asks you for a favor and you must defend the innocence of the man you were in love with, the same man for whom you left the FBI and moved to another country years ago.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of murder, trauma, death, jail. angst without happy ending. miscommunication. right person, wrong time. reid's time in jail. spoilers for season 13 and all the ones before that. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: First of all I want to thank you for all the support in my first post because the truth is that I didn't expect (if you haven't read it yet, I already have my masterlist). I still can't believe I reached 1000 notes, it makes me very happy.

And secondly, I apologize in advance for this, but I love drama and being a little cliche sometimes. I promise to write a nice, comfortable, less dramatic Spencer story in the future (I hope so) but ttpd is my everything lately.

The constant pounding of your right leg against the table was beginning to make you desperate and to dwarf the room. You didn't know what to do to stop and think for a few seconds, you had even lost count of all the times you had tried to fix your already perfect and ironed clothes that you had spent hours choosing and modeling in front of your hotel mirror.

It felt like hours had passed since you arrived at the prison, though it was probably only a few minutes. Part of you wanted to run out of there and avoid a dangerous reunion at all costs. The other part was anchored to the chair and would not move until you found a way to get Spencer out of there and fulfill the favor Emily had asked of you.

You couldn't let your best friend down, especially when her job could be in jeopardy if Reid was still in prison. You wanted to make sure she was okay, and repay her for all the favors she had done for you during the years you had lived together in London. Without her, you probably would not have survived or become the successful and respected lawyer you were now. She helped you heal when you needed it, now it was your turn to help.

Before you could think, grab your things and maybe even leave the room to catch your breath, a guard abruptly opened the door. Your eyes immediately fell on the handcuffed man the guard had practically thrown into the chair in front of you.

You blinked several times, trying to process that you were actually standing in front of him. He looked so different from the way you remembered him from the occasional picture Prentiss showed you. The years hadn't gone by for nothing, you knew that, but Spencer looked like someone else. It was more than the messy hair, the beard, or the numerous bruises on his face that made you wince. It was that his eyes no longer sparkled, and he himself looked dull.

The guard came out after warning them that they only had fifteen minutes, and the cameras pointed directly at you two.

“Hey.” That was all you could say, biting your inner cheek at how stupid it sounded.

At first he didn't react and hardly seemed to breathe. His expression was like seeing a ghost, and you couldn't blame him after so many years of not hearing from you. You knew you looked different from the last time you saw each other because you had tried too hard to look like someone else. You wore your hair shorter and a different color, even the way you dressed was other. You looked more serious and grown up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked dryly after scanning you with his eyes for a few seconds.

You froze when you heard him speak and his voice, once music to your ears, was like a kick in the stomach.

“I came to help. I thought Emily told you...”

“She told me that she wanted to call you but I told her not to.” Spencer cut you off before you could continue speaking. “That you weren't going to help me.”

You frowned as your brain processed those words.

“Why not? You...you are my friend.” You said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, trying to look away from you because it hurt. You could feel the tension multiply, making it almost impossible to breathe in the small room.

“Friends don't stop talking for six years and pretend the other doesn't exist.”

Oh, that had hurt.

It was true that you had disappeared from his life six years ago, and you had not made the slightest effort to return, even leaving the country with the excuse of looking for a better future. But you had your hidden reasons, you wanted to forget Spencer Reid and your intensely ridiculous and unrequited love.

From the first time you heard him talk about statistics and smile at you like a child, realizing that you listened to him like no one else, you fell madly in love with him for years. Always hoping that one day he would stop thinking of you as his friend and realize how much he deserved to be loved and that you would be happy to do so, that you could give him the whole world without hesitation if he asked you to.

At first you thought he wasn't that interested in love, that he was too smart and focused to lose his mind like you did for him. However, then you saw him several times interested and pining for other girls: the movie actress, JJ, the girl at the bar and Maeve...she was very different and painful for you.

You couldn't stand his strong love for her, at least not being so close to him and having to play the role of the best friend who always listened to him repeat how wonderful she was. Knowing that he could fall in love with someone he didn't even know personally instead of you, whom he saw every day and had known for years, changed you and made you run away to save your heart.

You got a new job far from the United States, thanks to Agent Hotchner and his glowing letter of recommendation. And so you went back to being an ordinary lawyer, no longer chasing serial killers or a boy genius who never loved you as you would have liked.

“Spence, I...” You tried to speak softly, almost having the urge to take his hand to make the situation better, but you didn't. “I'm sorry.”

He was obviously tense, he wouldn't even look you in the eye and you could swear his eyes were a little crystallized. He barely glanced at you for a second before speaking again.

“You don't have to say it if it's not true.”

“It's true.”

You stopped yourself for a second, sighing and centering yourself again.

“But I'm here for the case, to help you with that...and I'm sorry for everything that happened to you.” You said more calmly and with an almost sweet tone.

You both knew it was more than just the prison issue and the current situation. It was a sorry for Maeve's death, Alex, Morgan and Hotch's resignation, his mother's problems, Cat's damn appearance, and most of all for not being there to support him in all.

“You should have called and said so.” He finally responded after letting out a snort and tensing his jaw more.

“Yeah...I should have.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

You thought silence would take over the room again, but instead he spoke again.

“You can go now.”

“I'm not going anywhere unless you're free.” You pointed out with determination.

“You don't have a problem with go before.” He said in the same indifferent tone that was beginning to irritate you.

You should have frozen, kept quiet and focused on the case to get him out of there. But you couldn't do that and act professional when your insides were burning with the memory of the past.

“Don't give me that, you know why I did.” You blurt out, frowning and instinctively pushing the chair away from the table that separates you from him.

“You never said anything to me.” He replied, running a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking again. “You just disappeared like everyone else I've ever loved because you got bored with me.”

“You know I left for the opposite reason, because I...” You tried to say, but your voice cracked and your hands shook in an awkward attempt to touch his. “I loved you the way that you were and...”

The sudden sound of the door opening made you gasp and immediately shut up. The presence of a grim-faced guard made you realize it was all over, and you pulled your hand away from Spencer's again.

“Time's up.” The guard reported and you signaled him to have at least more minutes.

Fortunately, the guard nodded and gave you only five more minutes. You looked at your client again, trying to get into the professional role and discuss his case, but he seemed to be in another world after your half sentences.

There was no room in Reid's mind for your words, after feeling guilty for so long for not doing enough to be a good friend to you, for scaring you away with his problems, for not being one you wanted to keep over time and return his calls. But now, did you really say what you thought? Did you really love and care for him?

Everything was tearing his word apart in that moment.

“You won't have to see me if you don't want to, but I'll get you out of here soon, Spencer. I swear.” You promised and you could see in his face the surprise at your honest tone.

Maybe he expected a different attitude from you, maybe he thought you were still so obsessed with him that you would insist on seeing him and kill yourself to make him laugh again. But you had matured, or so you thought. You were no longer the young woman who hugged him every time he felt far away and was content to be the one who was left over. Now, you were the brave woman who left the ship before it sank completely.

As you watched the guard check the handcuffs and lift Spencer out of the seat to take him away, something inside you reacted. You called out his name before you could react and quickly had his desperate eyes on you.

“You don't have to worry about the past...I'm over you.” You said confidently before nodding goodbye and walking out with one less burden.

He remained anchored to the ground, trying to process your words with his racing mind as he watched you leave him again.

You...you had been in love with him?

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

Why I HATE the Silco and Vander Flashback

As a Silco fan I was so hyped for it but now I wish it hadn't been in the show in the first place.

1- Ruins the Character's Reaoning

The only question this scene actually answered was why Vander betrayed Silco, and it answered it in one of the worst (and most annoyingly cliche) ways possible.

We knew from S1 and the writer's responses that Silco and Vander led the revolution, what happened on the bridge changed Vander, and then he betrays Silco. Most people came to the conclusion that, seeing the destruction and orphans, Vander decided fighting back was too risky and advocated for peace. Silco, on the other hand, believed that they needed to continue fighting for freedom and refused to give up. Vander, fearing that Silco would instigate more destruction and destroy more families, attempted to kill him to protect his people.

But now we know Vander apparently tried to kill him not because he was worried about his people, but because he was mad that his one friend died. This just makes Vander look way worse and takes away from the nuance of his character. Vander didn't take in the kids because he felt guilty for what he did, but because he knew their mom and had a duty to her to take them in. Did Silco's guilt for starting the fight that killed Jinx's mom cause him to adopt her, too? Everything being about their mom takes away from the character development and uniqueness in why these characters did what they did.

2- Left Questions Rather than Answers and Created Even More Inconsistencies

We already knew before Season 2 that Silco and Vander worked in the mines, that at least Vander was familiar with Felicia, and that Silco intigated the bridge fight by throwing a molotov, but so many things are unanswered or now incredibly inconsistent.

What is Benzo's relation to Silco and Vander? He knew Silco well enough to recognize older him in thick fog. Why does he hate Silco so much? Did he ever know Felicia, or did he only show up in Vander's life after the betrayal?

If Silco instigated the fight, why does Vander say it was also his fault in the letter? Why does Vander say to Benzo "We both know there's worse things than enforcers out their"? What is he talking about? He seems to be talking about Silco since he touches the brace covering the scar Silco slashed on his arm. But this makes no sense for Vander to talk so badly of Silco if he also blames himself and regrets what he has done to his brother so much.

Where was Silco after Vi and Jinx were born? We see Vander interacting with the kids and their parents after, but not Silco, and the kids do not recognize him in s1e3. It's like he just vanished and there is no clear reason why.

Why is Silco so eager to kill Vi and Jinx in S1E3 despite him knowing their mom and making that promise to her? The reasoning for him wanting to was already very murky but this just makes it worse and once again takes away from the nuance.

3- Silco's Design

Yet another inconsistency. I personally hate Silco's new hair and think it looks really stupid, but it is what it is. The real problem with it is that it doesn't fit with what we see in season 1.

In season 2, young Silco has long hair and bangs like Jinx's. But in season 1, during the betrayal, young Silco's hair isn't even shoulder-length and his bangs are way shorter. So perhaps he cut his hair sometime before the fight? But we see that even on the bridge, during the revolution, Silco's hair is long. His hair is even long when Warwick hallucinates a post betrayal Silco, even though Vander has seen Silco with shorter hair.

This is especially bizarre considering the inconsistency with Vander's hair in season one. During the drowning scene, he has no beard and is young, but during the bridge scene he has a beard and looks much older. The writers have stated that this was due to communication errors with Fortiche and that Vander and Silco were not meant to look so much younger during the betrayal, so that they would make a similar error again is odd.

(Speaking of the design, a 100% personal reason I was disappointed was that in the concept, Silco wears a sleeveless outfit that shows off his muscular arms, yet they once again gave him long sleeves. I know what you may be thinking, but imagine they showed Vi's abs in the concepts but didn't actually show them in the show. Keep in mind that not only is Silco the only major character to die before season 2, he is also the only one who we don't get to see fully or partially shirtless (even Heimerdinger can be seen shirtless in the s1 Chinese Artbook). I thought they would at least give us a brief glimpse of those arms but instead they took the extra time to model sleeves. I will never understand how we got to see shirtless Salo before Silco's biceps. ☹️)

Besides that I felt like the way Silco especially was animated was very off, like the animator had never seen a Silco scene before and knew nothing about the character. I knew he would be a bit different, such as being less pessimistic, since this was before the betrayal, but it was just way too off. It's difficult to describe and I'm still trying to put a finger on what exactly was the problem, but one thing I noticed was that his smile looked unlike the way he normally smiles. His eyes are usually half-lidded, even in the S1 flashback, but they aren't that way at all. And no, it isn't just that it's weird seeing him with two good eyes, because he never felt off at all in the s1 flashback. He just overall gave off Jason Spisak vibes instead of Silco.

I also really hate that the way they were animated gives off a bit of a feeling that they were both into Felicia. Please not Snape and Lily again.

[scribbly-squid]

Jealousy of The Devil

Lucifer x F!Reader

Lucifer gets the wrong idea when he walks in on a simple competition between you and Husk. He decides to show you who you belong to.

🌻 Don’t feel great about this story but decided to still post it anyways. This would be my first NSFW work I ever write so I hope it’s good. So erotica content warning!

Masterlist

“And this one is courtesy of fighting off several loan sharks a few months ago.” You lifted your shirt, revealing a straight, clean cut running from your armpit to just under your breast. “Bastards managed to gang up on me and turn my knife against me. Thankfully, it was a clean cut—I’d just sharpened the knife while hanging out with Vaggie a few days prior.”

Husk leaned in, inspecting the fresh wound. It was healing nicely, though it would undoubtedly scar. “Looks good. Nice job. Did you manage to stitch it up yourself?”

You shook your head, grinning softly at the memory. “Nah. By the time I tried, Lucifer found me and refused to let me do it alone.”

Husk whistled low, smirking. “Bet he wasn’t too happy about that. But—” He stood and pulled down his trousers slightly, revealing a circular scar on his thigh about the size of a quarter.

Your eyes widened as you instinctively reached out, running your fingers along the purplish mark. “Whoa. Why does it look like that?”

“Angelic steel,” he replied, taking a long swig of whiskey. “It hurt like hell. Went clean through, thankfully. Got it during a turf war back when I was in my prime. Funny thing? It was a stray bullet from some other fight nearby. Dumb luck.”

You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “Okay, you win! I can’t compete with someone who got third-partied on their own turf.”

Husk chuckled, clearly enjoying your defeat. He raised his glass in mock triumph. “Loser makes the next beer run.”

Before you could retort, Lucifer’s booming voice echoed from the doorway. “What in the seven rings is going on here?”

You jumped, heart skipping a beat as Lucifer strode into the room, his piercing eyes scanning the scene. First, they locked on you, still holding your shirt up. Then they shifted to Husk, who hastily pulled his trousers back up.

Lucifer’s expression darkened, sharp teeth glinting as he clenched his jaw. The air grew heavy, heat radiating from him in waves. His horns extended from his head, crowned by flickering fire. His porcelain features were marred by jagged stripes, and his eyes glowed red.

Husk raised his hands defensively, taking a cautious step back. “Whoa, hey! It was nothing—just a little harmless fun comparing scars.”

Lucifer growled, fire licking the edges of his words. “Get. Out.”

Husk shot you a quick glance, grabbed his whiskey, and made a hasty exit. “I’m not forgetting our deal. You’re still doing that beer run!” he called over his shoulder before disappearing.

Now alone, Lucifer turned his fiery gaze on you. His horns remained, his tail swayed sharply behind him, and the flames between his horns burned brighter as he advanced. You instinctively lowered your shirt, but his attention never wavered from your face.

“…What was that?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less dangerous.

You sighed, already knowing where this was headed. “Lucifer, it was nothing,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Husk and I were just swapping stories about our scars. That’s all.”

“Swapping stories?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief and jealousy. “With your shirt up and his pants down? Do you know how that looked?”

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a firm look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Luci. Husk isn’t interested in me like that. It was a dumb harmless competition. Nothing more.”

His tail lashed behind him, the fire on his horns flaring. “Harmless or not, I don’t like it.” He took another step closer, his frame looming over you despite his shorter height. His possessiveness was palpable, radiating off him in waves of heat.

Sensing he wouldn’t back down, you softened your stance, reaching up to place a hand on his chest. His skin was warm—too warm—and his heart raced beneath your palm. “Lucifer,” you said softly, your voice soothing, “you know you’re the only one I want. No scar story or silly bet will ever change that.”

His eyes searched yours, the fire in them dimming slightly. With a deep sigh, he rested his hands on your hips, pulling you close. “You drive me mad,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Absolutely mad.”

“Good,” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You could use a little madness in your life.”

That earned a soft chuckle from him, though his expression remained serious. “But don’t think for a second I’ll let anyone else get that close to you again,” he warned. “Especially not while you’re half-dressed.”

Before you could argue, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you with fiery intensity. His hands gripped your hips, his tail curling possessively around your waist as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his golden hair as he devoured you like a man starved.

The heat from his body seeped into yours, leaving you breathless. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, the fire between his horns now a faint flicker. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with love and possessiveness. “Never forget that.”

In one swift motion, he transported you both to his bedroom. You found yourself straddling him on a plush velvet loveseat, his tail coiling around you as he pulled you flush against him.

His grip is possessive yet gentle enough to send shivers racing through you. His lips crashed against yours once more, demanding and fiery, his growl vibrating against your mouth. His kiss was overwhelming, filled with raw need and an unspoken promise that he wasn’t about to let anyone or anything come between you two. One hand slid up to your lower back, pulling you even closer, while the other cupped your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his horns as they faintly brushed against your forehead. He groaned at the sensation, his lips parting slightly, allowing your tongues to meet in a heated dance that left you utterly dizzy.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Lucifer’s lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured, his voice low, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Lucifer—” you began, your voice breathless, but he silenced you with another searing kiss.

“You’re mine,” he growled again, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “Every inch of you. And I’ll burn anyone who dares to think otherwise.”

You couldn’t help but smile against his lips, the possessive edge in his tone oddly comforting. “I’ve always been yours,” you whispered, brushing your lips softly against his.

Lucifer’s eyes softened at your words, though the fire within them never dimmed. His tail coiled tighter around you as he leaned back slightly, his fingers tracing along your spine. “Good,” he said, his smirk devilish. “Because I don’t plan on letting you forget it.”

Lucifer’s lips lingered on your clavicle, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with desire. His sharp teeth nipped gently, followed by soft, lingering kisses that sent electric shivers down your spine.

When his mouth found the sensitive pulse point on your neck, he sucked lightly, just enough to leave his mark—a claim that was unmistakably his. The sensation made you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his growl rumbled through you like thunder.

Unable to resist teasing him further, you shifted in his lap, straddling him completely as you rolled your hips against his. The friction was intoxicating, and the way his hands gripped your hips in response only spurred you on.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Lucifer warned, his voice low and strained as his crimson eyes met yours.

Your lips curved into a sly smile, leaning down so your faces were only inches apart. “Why not?” you teased, grinding your hips once more, earning a guttural groan from him that sent heat pooling in your core.

His grip tightened, his claws pressing slightly into your skin as he held you still, his control hanging by a thread. “You have no idea what you’re doing, darling,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear before his tongue flicked over the shell of it.

“Maybe I want to find out,” you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief.

Lucifer’s smirk returned, dark and predatory, as his tail curled around your thigh, pulling you even closer. “Careful what you wish for,” he murmured before his mouth returned to your neck, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp.

The mixture of pleasure and pain was exhilarating, and you couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, grinding against him once more. His arousal was unmistakable now, and his groans grew deeper, vibrating through your chest as his lips explored every inch of exposed skin.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his voice a rough whisper against your skin as his hands roamed your body, igniting every nerve. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, his kiss full of unrestrained passion that left you utterly breathless.

As soon as the words escaped his mouth you found yourself transported to your shared bed - Lucifer having somehow unburdened himself of all his clothing.

He gently grasped your hips, flipping you onto your back with an effortless motion. A soft hum of satisfaction escaped him as he nestled his nose into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You tangled your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as your lips met in another passionate kiss, your heart racing with every brush of his lips against yours.

Kneeling between your legs, he leaned back slightly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, his hands gently caressing your thighs. A soft, appreciative smile curved his lips as he gazed at you, his voice full of admiration. "You're beautiful," he whispered, the sincerity in his words sending a shiver of warmth through you.

A blush spread across your cheeks as you reached for his hands, gently pulling him closer to you. “Show me,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with longing.

Feeling his erection against your stomach, your body shuddered as he lowered himself over you, placing wet open mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, stopping to tear open your shirt along with your bra, revealing your breasts.

He licked your soft skin around your right breast in a small circle, flicking your nipple with his forked tongue. You moaned with approval and he looked up to capture your gaze before moving his attention to your other. Your hands ghosted over his shoulders, slipping further down his arms as he continued exploring the dips and curves of your body with his tongue. He paused again, sitting back. Staring into your eyes, the sclera of his eyes that had burned red was now glossed over with lust. He looped his claws at the waist of your panties, yanking them down, ripping them in the process.

“I need to taste you.”

The heat between your thighs surged at his words, your breath hitching as you gave a small nod. His hands glided to your knees, his claws grazing lightly down the outside of your thighs, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake. Lowering himself between your legs, his intense gaze never wavered, locking with yours as though daring you to look away.

He pressed slow, deliberate kisses to the tender skin of your inner thighs, each one sending sparks of heat through you. Then, with a teasing smirk, his sharp teeth grazed your skin before sinking in gently, a blend of pleasure and pain that made your back arch instinctively.

As he finally reached your center, he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply as though savoring the moment. His lips and tongue moved with deliberate care, exploring you in a way that made your head fall back with a breathless gasp.

A soft mewl escaped your lips as your hands instinctively reached for him, wanting to pull him closer, “Ah ah..” he teased, gently pinned them at your sides playfully, his touch firm yet tender, leaving you completely at his mercy.

As if he could sense your every thought, he gently bent your knees, angling your hips with a precision that left you breathless. His forked tongue traced over your clit with an expert touch, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you squirmed under his hold, anchoring you in place. When he slid a finger inside, followed by another, your body responded instinctively, trembling as he coaxed wave after wave of bliss from you with unrelenting precision and care.

“Lucifer…” His name fell from your lips, barely above a whisper, as every nerve in your body ignited from the overwhelming tension. “I…” Your attempt at words dissolved into a breathless, incoherent moan as his touch unraveled you completely.

His grip softened, his fingers curling with perfect precision against your most sensitive spot, drawing you higher with every motion. His lips and tongue worked in harmony, sending waves of bliss cascading through you. He held you steady, guiding you tenderly through your orgasm, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

Licking his fingers with a satisfied hum, he slowly crawled up your body, his lips trailing delicate kisses along your skin. Each touch was slow, almost as if he was memorizing every inch of you. When he reached your lips, he captured them in a tender, lingering kiss, his hand brushing the sweat-soaked strands of hair gently from your face.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with an affection that sent warmth flooding through you.

“Lucifer…” you whined, your voice trembling with need as your nails raked across his chest, leaving faint trails in their wake.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady but laced with longing. He let out a soft whine as your hand pressed firmly against his chest for balance, you shifted slightly, your legs straddling his waist as you leaned closer, your breath mingling with his.

Your other hand moved between your bodies and grasped his cock guiding him to your entrance and lowering onto him slowly as he stretched your walls, filling you. With a gasp, you dropped completely, taking him completely, your hands falling back to his chest. A low groan rumbled from his chest as his grip tightened on your hips, his claws pressing into your skin with possessive intensity.

“Just like that sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he urged you to move. His hands glided up your sides, tracing your curves with deliberate care before squeezing your breasts. As you moved against him, he cupped them firmly, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in teasing circles. Each touch sent a shiver through you, syncing perfectly with the rhythm of your movements.

With a deep groan, he sat up, his strong arms wrapping around your back and pulling you flush against his chest. His lips found your neck, biting and sucking at your sensitive skin.

You gasped at the sensation, your movements instinctively quickening as you ground against him, the tension in your stomach building with each passing moment. His grip tightened, his breath hot against your neck, “Y/N..” He groaned out.

He captured your lips in a deep, fervent kiss, a groan rumbling from his chest and vibrating against your mouth. As the kiss broke, his forehead rested gently against yours, his gaze locking with yours, filled with unspoken longing.

With deliberate care, he began to move, his thrusts slow and rhythmic, alternating between shallow and deep. Each motion sent ripples of pleasure through you, drawing soft hums from your lips as your breaths mingled, desperate and ragged.

“Come with me sweetheart,” His head dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as he held you close. Instinctively, you tilted your hips upward, your legs crossing tightly behind his waist, pulling him even deeper. The change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, his every thrust now perfectly striking your sweet spot.

“Lucifer,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your body trembling as you clenched tightly around him, drawing a deep, guttural groan from his chest.

With an animalistic grunt, his movements faltered, his hips pressing firmly against yours as he buried himself deep. A shudder ran through his body, his release spilling into you as he let out a guttural groan, your name falling from his lips like a reverent whisper.

You guided the weight of his body to rest fully against you, your hands skimming along the smooth planes of his back, fingers tangling in his hair as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck. His breath was warm and steady against your skin, his horns slowly retracting as his eyes faded back to their usual crimson glow.

As he slipped out of you, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the tension in his body begin to ease. He muttered something into your neck, his voice barely audible.

“What was that…?” you asked softly, tilting your head to catch his words.

Lucifer shifted, lowering himself to rest his head against your chest. His crimson eyes gazed up at you, uncharacteristically vulnerable, holding an emotion you couldn’t quite name.

“I said I’m sorry…” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with something raw and genuine.

You looked down at him, your fingers gently brushing through his tousled hair. “What do you mean…?” you asked softly, your brows knitting together in concern.

Lucifer’s gaze didn’t waver, his crimson eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. “I mean for losing control,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “For letting my jealousy get the better of me… for being too much.”

Your heart clenched at the rare vulnerability in his tone. You cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb across his smooth skin as you whispered, “You don’t have to apologize Lucifer. I’m here… I chose you.”

His eyes softened, and he closed them briefly, leaning into your touch. “You deserve better than the devil who struggles to control his own emotions,” he murmured.

“And yet here we are,” you replied with a small smile, guiding him closer. “I think I’ll keep you anyway.”

“Promise me you won’t do that again…” he murmured, his voice low and serious as he pressed soft kisses between your breasts, his lips lingering on your skin.

You blinked down at him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “Do what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you, his crimson eyes dark with an unspoken plea. “Let someone else get that close to you. Let someone else touch you, see you, in a way that’s mine,” he admitted, his words dripping with possessiveness but laced with vulnerability.

You sighed softly, brushing a strand of his hair from his face. “Lucifer…” you began, your tone gentle but firm. “You have all of me. You don’t have to worry about anyone else. But I promise—I’ll be more mindful of how it might look.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, and he leaned up, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured against your mouth. “Because I don’t think I could handle losing you.”

You smiled softly into the kiss, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw as you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. “And you never will,” you whispered, your words laced with a quiet but unwavering confidence.

Lucifer's eyes softened, the intensity of his gaze filled with something deeper than lust—something more permanent. He kissed you again, slower this time, as if sealing the promise with each brush of his lips against yours.

Perfect example of how my thoughts went from writing this to actually rereading it. This ended up almost being 4K words too, hopefully as my first nsfw story ended being okay. I hope to improve with them in the future!

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: sfw, post-war levi ackerman, gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, comfort, set a few years after the rumbling, inspired by that scene of levi giving candy out to the kids, 0.9k wc

Sometimes, you stood by the window in your cottage just to stare into the unremarkable field beyond.

Truthfully, there wasn’t much to see—only a small garden, patches of overgrown grass, and a pavement riddled with enough cracks to make the superstitious shudder. But the sun was out and life had settled into something neither of you had known for years. 

It was peaceful times now; dreams did not feel so big and foreign anymore.

Behind you, you heard the familiar creak of his wheelchair. Levi moved slower these days, more out of habit than out of necessity because there was no longer anything to rush for. When his figure crossed a pool of sunlight on the floor, you turned to look at him. A deep scar stretched across his face, his sharp eyes now reduced to one, and his black hair—normally kept shorter and pristine—was relaxed on his forehead. The world had changed, and so had he. Despite it all, you loved him the same. Perhaps even more. 

“I can feel your eyes burning into my skull,” he sighed through his nose. There was teasing lilt dancing behind his otherwise blunt words and it brought a small smile to your lips.

“I’m just thinking,” you said softly, stepping close enough until you knelt in front of his wheelchair. You placed a hand on his knee and rest assured, he was still as firm as the first day he allowed you to touch him so comfortably, “Thinking about getting more plants for the garden. Maybe some flowers this time.”

“Flowers?” Levi looked down at you, brows arched, pretending to be shocked at your audacity to meddle with his precious array of vegetables. He saw right through your distraction but decided to feed into your white lie anyway. “You think I’d let something like that clutter the garden?”

“You’ve already let me clutter the windowsill,” You countered, only half seriously. You gestured towards the collection of potted herbs on the sill, expecting Levi to remain adamant about his little garden but when you looked back at him, he was—

Laughing?

Not a trace of the soldier you knew was present in his features and even after all this time, seeing him happy still made your heart flutter. 

“Fine. But only a few,” he tipped his head towards the window, “The garden’s still gotta be functional.” 

“Functional,” you repeated. “Right, of course.”

You wanted to tell him how nice it was to be able to argue over flowers than death but you saved that conversation for another time. When you both thought about it for too long, there was no coming out of that hole—for either of you.

There was a faraway look in his eyes and for a moment, you thought he might drift to that place but something pulled him back. He then held your hand as tightly as two missing fingers allowed. “I’m supposed to visit the children today.”

Curious by the sudden change of topic, you blinked up at him.

“Come with me,” he continued. “They’ve been asking about you. You can get your flowers on the way.” 

The orphanage had become part of Levi’s routine, another piece of his life that softened after the rumbling. He didn’t talk about it much but the children meant a lot to him. At first, seeing them was a way to atone for the lives he couldn’t save. But as time passed, it became less about guilt and more about being present with kids of the new world. Like the plants he tended in the garden, you saw how those children burst with life when he was there. 

“You sure they’ve been asking for me?” you cocked your head to the side, “You’re their hero. I’m just the person who brings you tea.” 

Levi tried to scoff but failed, “Tch, you’re more than that. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Oh? So I’m more than just your tea supplier?” Your eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Much more.” They were words of encouragement in hindsight, though his tone was all but dry. He glared at you with that familiar scowl but you knew there was no venom behind it.

Don’t you dare flash that grin, he thought.

You fought your own smile. What am I then, Levi?

“A pain in the ass is what you are.” 

A patient and kind pain in the ass who he had loved in secret even when the concept of love felt impossible to him. Too many sleepless nights were wasted wondering if he should’ve told you. But this was during the darkest days when Titans left a sea of red and every dawn felt like it could be the last. 

Levi was just your comrade, who had lost everything before the real war even began. So what would he know of love? 

Back then, loving you felt like twisting a knife into a wound that was too deep to heal. But with the rumbling behind him and every haunting memory that remained, it only made him love you harder in the now. 

You rose from your spot to brush a kiss on top of his head, “And yet, you let this pain in the ass share beds with you. So tell me, who’s the real fool here?” 

“Guess we both are,” he said with a flicker of amusement at the edge of his lips. 

As if the world had decided to agree, a little gust of wind tapped the window, and your focus returned to the outside. The grass still needed trimming and the pavement had seen better days. 

“I’ll come with you,” you said warmly. “But only if you promise to pick out at least one flower for the garden.”

Levi pinched your side. You giggled and pinched him back.

“Alright,” he muttered, already rolling towards the door, “One flower.” 

a/n: wow it took me 3 years to finally write for aot. what kind of flower do you think levi will pick for the garden?

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[harufluff]

my seahorse ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

💬 : fluff, unestablished relationship au, afab!reader x bff!anton, ⚠ best friends to lovers trope, not proofread, 0.7k

“could you come over…” your voice was shaky through the phone speaker. anton had known you were at home because you had texted him hours before complaining about your neighbors.

“a-are you ok? did something happen?” his heart started beating faster. despite just being a friend, a best friend as you would put it, anton always worried about you.

weather you are up to no good, or just getting good news. he was here to support you no matter what. maybe a little too much for just a friend.

“i’m fine. just please be fast.” and just like that you had hung up, leaving anton scared and surprised with the various possibilities bouncing around his head.

anton made his way to your house as fast as he could. when he finally got to the front door of the house he had been to so many times before, he knocked. his heart finally began to calm as he heard the soft footsteps of your feet coming down the stairs.

the door opened to your face. no makeup, inches shorter than where his face is, and a blanket wrapped around your head. “what’s wrong?”

anton’s soft, calming voice makes it to your ears. before he can even blink again, the door swings open and reveals your blanket covered figure coming towards him for a hug.

“y/n, seriously what’s wrong? are you hurt?” your best friends hands now coming up to take your hands in his, inspecting for any injuries.

“come look.” you use his hands current position to your advantage and take one of them, dragging him up the stairs to your bedroom, a room he has been to more times than he can count.

you sit down on your bed, blanket still covering your lap, while anton stands in the doorway, still astounded, but mostly confused of your intentions.

“come sit. i wanna show you something.” he came to sit down on the bed next to you, anxious of what was to come.

anton’s nerves continued to be more prominent. “are you sure you’re ok?” he asks one more time before you dragged your laptop to your legs.

your curser traveled to the corner of the youtube screen to press the play button, then a pair of sea horses swim into the view of the camera.

a deep, manly voice comes out of your computer explaining how sea horses mate for life and stay together forever. your head turns in your best friends direction, tears on the brim of falling down your face.

“w-wait, what’s wrong? why are you crying” anton asks you, words coming quickly out of his mouth. “they mate forever, ant. imagine staying with someone you love for the rest of your life!!”

a slight smile rises to his face, finally realizing your sudden sadness was not necessarily sadness. “you still haven’t answered my question. why are you crying over some sea horses, y/n.”

anton held your face with one of his hands and whipped the stray tear now running down your face. “it’s just so romantic, y’know?”

you let the weight of your body tumble down as your back hit the soft covers of your bed. “i wanna find someone like that one day.” your eyes rest in the same place of your ceiling.

anton thinks about what to answer with for what feels like a couple seconds too long. “i have already.” you sit up straight right away, eyes wide open and staring into your best friends.

“who….?”

his cute smile made its way up to his lips as his face began to grow pink. “it’s you. you’re my seahorse…” anton tried his best to keep the eye contact with your still wide eyes.

“if you don’t feel the same way just tell me and i’ll forget i ever said it.” his gaze then dropped down to his hands that were resting in his lap.

“anton…you’re my seahorse too…” all of a sudden you felt anton’s body weight on top of yours and the room was filled with giggles from the both of you.

his face pops up from the crook of your shoulder, a lasting smile still on his face along with yours. “my seahorse”

a.n - sorry i havent posted in like so long lol. please enjoy! <3

©️harufluff 2024

[puckleberryfinnie]

ok so ik my req might seem a bit weird butttttt.. i have been dyingggg for ray. like his body tea, i loveeee his lil accent and smile so i just wanna see like host!reader get nervous when he gets injured, him giving reader his jersey, and a lil post-game smooch 🫶🏾🫶🏾.

girll you don't understand how glad I am that someone else feels this way about him like I feel so wrong about it but?? he's such a cutie?? thank you soso much for sending this in, love this idea <33 so sorry this took so long, life took hold of meee

Beautiful Little Fools

You being a friend of Kai's, and being in several of his streams as an internet personality yourself. Of course, you meet several of his friends, including Ray. He's just using his cheesy "rizz" with Kai's encouragement, and you're laughing on to all his funny tactics.

When the Beta Squad and AMP decide to have the match, there's almost immediately an invitation for you to join in as a host, that you accept gratefully!

The days leading up to the event, you spend a lot of time hanging out with the American group, as well as meeting new people that you become fast friends with.

Ray, however, stays close to either you or Kai at most points, finding himself most comfortable with people he knows pretty well already. Everyone (thought mostly Kai) loves the relationship you two have, and joke around about it a LOT.

You, of course, enjoy his company and help him with training that they have set up for those participating the day before the real match. It's mostly just simple things, though, like returning the balls to him or mock-guarding him.

At some point during the practice, he gets slightly injured, tripping over a ball or something like that. It really isn't that bad, but you find it concerning, especially considering the big match is the following day.

He, however, reassures you, comforting you by patting your head and giving you a brief hug. He doesn't like you being worried about it, so he tried to make sure you understand he's okay.

The next day is obviously intense, and you spend a lot of time making sure Ray is safe, keeping an eye on him throughout the game. You interview him at halftime momentarily, joking around together before he has to go. You also remind him to be safe out there, yelling after him.

He clearly doesn't follow this advice too closely, however, and ends up getting tackled by some larger player (probs Niko lets be so fr) You, of course, feel incredibly scared, watching him from the sidelines all while trying to keep composure as a host.

As he gets guided to the bench to rest, you move yourself over there to talk to him, frantically making sure he's ok. You end up in his arms, him holding you tightly.

After that interaction and him assuring you plenty that he's alright, you go back to doing your job as a host, interviewing other players and such.

Post game, he comes back to see you, striding over to you with intent. It startles you for a moment, when you suddenly see him standing so close to you. He give a short hug followed by a even shorter, nervous kiss.

After a moment of staring at each other, he takes off his jersey, handing it to you with a smile. He doesn't even say anything, just holds it out for you to take.

You end up wearing that jersey on your flight back and on many occasions afterwards. <3

guys I legit don't know why but I really can't tell if I like this style of writing or not. let me know what you think, I'm soso sorry this isn't very good, I truly hope you still enjoy <33

title is a song from great gatsby the musical ofc

anyways, thank you sososo much for being my first ever request, I love you to the moon and back tbh!!

I definitely want to do more of these before school starts to make everything crazy again, so if anyone wants to send something in feel completely free and wanted within my inbox! I'll take requests about pretty much anyone (check out the list of things I love for some reference!!) or I'm for sure here to chat <33

MUAH LOVE YA!!

[samstree]

In New Light

post-canon obikin, 4k words, rated G. AO3 link here

The cat stares at Obi-Wan, blinking slowly with curious eyes.

“Well. Hello, there.”

Obi-Wan greets the creature at his door, staring back. The cat has sleek, black fur all over, except for the white streak on the side of his face. He is much smaller than a Loth-cat, with much shorter fur too. Possibly a less common sub-species of the tooka. He has blue eyes instead of yellow like most black cats, and oh—he’s missing a front leg.

A pang of sympathy swells in Obi-Wan chest. The poor thing. Where has he come from? Who is his owner? Did he wander all the way from the lower levels of Coruscant and into the Temple? Did he get injured because he’s a stray?

The cat sits on his tail, looking straight up as Obi-Wan crouches down before him.

“Hello, dear,” he greets the small creature again, this time in a much gentler tone. “Now, how have you wandered to my door?”

The cat meows, tilting his head, studying Obi-Wan for a moment before jumping right into his lap, making him let out a surprised sound. The missing leg does not hinder the little creature’s mobility, and he seems to have comfortably curled up against Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says. When the cat meows in return, he answers, “I know, dear. I know.”

-

The cat follows him for the entire day.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here at the creche? The younglings will love you. I’m sure they already do.”

The small, dark creature hisses as a Togruta child attempts to pet him on the head, the rejection clear as day.

“Hmm.”

Obi-Wan cannot help but remember an equally grumpy padawan in the same situation. Anakin was fifteen when he was put on creche duty for the first time, and the boy all but jumped when the small children tried to hug him. The storm cloud remained on his face for a week despite the shower of affection from the younglings.

A smile comes to Obi-Wan’s face at the memory of Anakin’s teenage years, before it falls flat at the corners of his mouth.

There is no use thinking about it now.

Anakin already left.

He could never stay, not after what was revealed at the end of the war—Palpatine fooled everyone, and especially Anakin. The hurt ran too deep and too intertwined with the Order. It was a good thing that Anakin chose to resign after the Sith was destroyed, finding his independence, figuring out who he is outside of being a Jedi. He needed the distance, and it’s good he never looked back.

It’s a good thing, Obi-Wan tells himself again.

The cat has jumped to the top of Obi-Wan’s shoulder with a displeased sound, right before burrowing into his neck and rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s skin. The motion makes it look like the small creature is trying to soothe him, which is ridiculous. It’s not like Obi-Wan is sad.

“Come on,” he says, petting the cat on the head and getting another quiet meow in answer. “You are not staying, are you? Well, then. Let’s get going.”

-

He dreams of Anakin that night. Again.

“Oh, dear heart. I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan apologizes to the image of Anakin conjured up by his mind. “It must be from those thoughts of you during the day.”

Dream-Anakin sits cross-legged on what used to be his favorite futon, a bright, ethereal aura shimmering around him. That’s how Obi-Wan knows he’s dreaming.

It’s how he always knows.

The Anakin in his dreams always looks the same. With tousled hair and youthful features, a slight tightness around his eyes, worn down by war and grief. He also wears the same clothes every time, the dark Jedi robes that has become his staple, but singed at the hem from battle. He didn’t stay long enough at the Temple to change out of them after defeating the Sith.

It’s what Anakin looked like when they said goodbye for the last time. At the hangar bay, Obi-Wan watched this version of Anakin close the door of his shuttle.

He stayed there for hours afterwards.

“Why are you apologizing?” Anakin frowns.

Strange. Obi-Wan has never seen him frown in a dream.

Anakin has also never looked different. He seems…older, the lines of his face sharpened with maturity, those familiar curls cut short and parted to the other way. He is still the same man, but it’s almost like the years they spent apart are showing on his face.

Oh, how these dreams torment him.

“For this dream, of course,” Obi-Wan explains patiently, despite the well of sadness overflowing in his heart. He’ll always have patience for his former padawan, even when it’s only a figment of his imagination. “It’s a clear sign of attachment. Attachment I should have acknowledged and let go when you left.”

“When I left, of course,” Anakin murmurs, looking away. “A perfect Jedi like you must have gotten over it immediately. What was I thinking?”

Anakin’s voice trails into a quiet tremble, a crestfallen look written all over his face. It suddenly makes Obi-Wan unsure of himself—he never wants to make Anakin sad.

“No, Anakin… I—” Obi-Wan starts, “I merely meant that—I should have let go. It was… it would have been the right thing to do.”

“Was it really?”

Tears trail down Anakin’s cheek, glistening in the bright light of the dream.

When Obi-Wan wakes up to the shimmering morning light, he wipes away the wetness on his face. There is no peace to be found in the Force, so Obi-Wan gets up and pads towards the living room.

The cat is sound asleep, curled into a perfect ball on Anakin’s futon.

-

“Do you have an owner?”

Obi-Wan is mostly thinking out loud as the cat licks at the blue milk, pouring another serving into the plate when a whine prompts him.

“Possibly, but there is no collar.” He touches his beard, humming absently. “I still don’t understand how you got here. There’s a long way from the lower levels to my quarters.”

The cat stretches contently when he’s done eating, soon beginning to find anything and everything in Obi-Wan’s room to be the most interesting thing.

“Hey, not those drawers. That’s where Anakin kept his tools.”

He really should have cleared those out, but alas. A ball of electrical cords has become the cat’s new favorite toy.

“No, not the spanner—that’s too heavy for you! Stars, don’t leave a mess everywhere!”

Heedless of Obi-Wan’s warnings, the creature has spilled out all of Anakin’s old things across the floor and is having the time of his life. Obi-Wan can only sigh while cleaning after him. It is only when the cat starts to push his tea collection off the kitchen counter when he has to intervene.

“No, not those! Leave an old man with his favorite tea, will you?” From the scowl on the cat’s face, the little guy doesn’t seem to care. “You’re as frustrating as a certain padawan of mine, my new friend.”

With that, the cat stops in his tracks, jumps off the kitchen counter nimbly, and looks up at Obi-Wan with those big, rounded eyes.

“Perhaps I should name you Padawan, with the way you are behaving,” Obi-Wan huffs, but there is no real anger in his voice.

In truth, he doesn’t mind the little mess. His quarters have been immaculately clean for years, but it never looks right. The disarray somehow fills a part inside his chest that he didn’t know was missing.

“You think I’m jesting, but I assure you I am not,” Obi-Wan continues sternly, holding himself like the Jedi master he is. “It’s not like that role will be filled any time soon. You will do just fine.”

He doesn’t want to think about the perpetual void left in his life. Obi-Wan will never have another padawan again, not after the way he failed Anakin. He has made his peace with it.

He really has. He just needs to breathe through the ache that creeps into every fiber of his being on every lonely night.

A sad meow, as if in sympathy. Obi-Wan bends down to pick up the cat and sits himself on the floor by the window, letting the sunbeam warm the both of them.

“No, I won’t call you Padawan, then. I don’t think…” he swallows, smiling tightly at the creature as he gets comfortable. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

Those big blue feline eyes are so round, the irises are nearly disappearing. Somehow, the unusual blue eyes of the cat bring him a sense of unnamed reassurance. He would have found it disturbing, if they were yellow.

“Well then, I guess I’ll be the one to take care of you. Not as a master, but a friend. It’s a dangerous world out there if you’re alone. There is no one protecting you.” Obi-Wan strokes the sleek, black fur as the cat falls asleep in his lap. The creature doesn’t shy away when he touches the stump where the front leg should be. “Is that how you got hurt? Because you were out there by yourself?”

All the answer he gets is a gentle rub against his stomach.

“I wish I was there with you,” he murmurs to himself, the numb emptiness in his chest tinging with regret. “I wish I could have protected you.”

Obi-Wan falls asleep with the cat curled against his chest, the purring guiding him into a peaceful dream land.

-

Dream-Anakin sits by the window with the sunlight on his back, his expression inexplicably sad.

“Why won’t you take another padawan, master?”

They are so close together, the sun lining the tips of Anakin’s lashes gold. Obi-Wan could easily reach out and touch him. So he does.

It’s a dream, after all. There is no point in shaming himself for wanting.

The short curls feel good between Obi-Wan’s fingers, but he’s still getting used to the new look. He is spotting all the minute differences about this version of Anakin—the mature steadfastness, the lightness in his eyes, the stubble grown under his chin.

“I’m still not sure about the hair,” Obi-Wan tries to change the subject. If it’s his dream, he gets to be cheeky, he reckons. “Will you consider showing up in the long hair next time? Just for your old master’s sake.”

“Obi-Wan.”

A sigh, and Obi-Wan tries to retract his hand, but Anakin catches him gently. The warmth of his flesh hand is as real as the Force humming in the air.

“Why would they trust me with another small child?” Obi-Wan finally says. “I wouldn’t trust myself.”

The offence on Anakin’s face is palpable. “You are the best master out there. Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

Obi-Wan laughs self-deprecatingly. “I’m sure you’d disagree.”

“Well, I’m right here, and I say you’re perfect!”

It’s ironic that the Anakin from his subconscious would defend him so, when the real Anakin knows more than anyone of Obi-Wan’s failure.

“I lost you, Anakin,” he simply says.

It ends the argument. Anakin closes his mouth, the sadness returning to his blue eyes.

-

It isn’t too bad, having a feline friend in Obi-Wan’s life.

His quarters seem less empty with a cat in it, along with everything he has added to make his new friend comfortable. The toys are now laid out, along with a new shelf for climbing. The cat bed is placed by the window, but rarely used when the little guy prefers to sleep on either Anakin’s old futon or by the foot of Obi-Wan’s bed. His habit of making a mess quieted down after a period of adjustment, and now Obi-Wan has learned to leave his expensive teas in the cupboard.

The cat loves the house plants, though. Obi-Wan is not sure if he’s imagining it, but his plants have never looked better, growing lusher and greener by the day. He has never been the best at taking care of them. It was Anakin who had a stronger connection to the Living Force.

When the ferns start to droop, the dark fluffy creature would fall asleep under their shade. When he wakes up, the leaves seem to gain new life again.

Obi-Wan also talks to the cat more and more these days.

The dreams persist. Every time he closes his eyes, there is Anakin. Sitting in their living room, or cooking in the kitchen, sometimes even curled up against Obi-Wan’s side in his bed.

Those dreams are the hardest. Obi-Wan’s mind is cruel to let him look at Anakin so closely, only to wake up alone in the quiet dark. The only consolation is the gentle, inquisitive meows of his cat friend.

He lets the furry thing bury his face against his neck to soothe the heartbreak. The pain lets up enough at some point, and he can breathe again. And then, Obi-Wan begins to talk.

He misses Anakin so much that the ache fills all the space inside his chest. If he doesn’t tell someone about it, he fears he will burst from it, and a cat is a good enough listener.

He lets his tongue run freely, trusting his memories to lead them from one story to another, jumping between the years they shared together. The pain and regret have been laying on his heart so heavily that Obi-Wan has nearly forgotten the joy that came with Anakin’s name.

His laughter, his passion, his unrelenting curiosity.

Anakin was his sun, but now, he has no one to share that warmth but a small cat.

“Did you know he cried when I took him to see rain for the first time?” Obi-Wan chuckles at the memory. “He was trying to catch all the raindrops, and when he couldn’t, he started to panic about wasting the water. Poor boy… I should have thought of that and not chosen the rainforest for our first mission.”

Obi-Wan lets out all the love he has kept inside. With only a small creature knowing his worst secret, he has never loved Anakin more freely.

“Do you think he could be in trouble? Knowing Anakin, he must have gotten himself into some sort of conundrum. More than once over the years, I assume. I worry for him too much, I know,” he whispers, letting the cat perch around his shoulders. “He’s too headstrong, too stubborn, much to his own detriment. He always tries to protect everyone, and never learned that he needed protecting too. I… I would have, had he let me.”

He drifts off again, worrying, wondering.

The dream is so warm that Obi-Wan never wishes to leave. He curls around the weight of Anakin’s body, wraps an arm around his waist to pull him even closer.

It feels good to steal these moments, basking in Anakin’s presence, just so he can keep on going in the land of the walking.

“What if I really am in trouble?” Anakin asks with mirth in his eyes. “It’s a big galaxy. I could run into someone dangerous. Say… a witch! Like in those fairytales on the holonet. She cursed me to be trapped in the body of a small animal, and the only way to lift the curse—”

He stops himself, the implication hanging in the air.

Obi-Wan finishes the thought for him, knowing this ridiculous boy and his romantic tendencies.

“True love, is it? The only way to lift the curse,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing their noses together. “I’ll find you, save you from the curse, and we’ll get to live happily ever after.”

Anakin blushes, his lashes cast down. “Yes, just like that. It’s really simple, master.”

Hope shines in Anakin’s eyes, bright and sweet, but Obi-Wan’s heart sinks.

“If only it was, dear heart.”

-

“Can you believe them? Denied!”

Obi-Wan huffs, chest rising and falling from anger. He lets the datapad fall to the sofa. On the screen is his application to take leave from the Temple, big red letters showing Application Denied at the top.

“I’m not even asking for long. It’ll take two—alright, maybe three—months at most! I’m a war general, for Force’s sake. I infiltrated the separatist headquarters! How long is it going to take me to find one person? Just one!”

Artoo’s light flickers, letting out a quiet beep in answer. He doesn’t dare move his dome due to the dark, fluffy creature perched on top of him, tail tucked away cozily. Both droid and cat blink at Obi-Wan as his rant comes to a stop.

It’s almost disturbing how well they are getting along. Obi-Wan has not seen Artoo take a liking to someone, or something, this quickly since Anakin left.

“I just want to see him.” Obi-Wan’s shoulders slump, all the fight leaving his body with resignation. "They are right about me—it’s... it's a sign of attachment. I just…”

A lump forms in his throat, and Obi-Wan turns his head away. It would be embarrassing to cry in front of a droid and a cat, but it’s hard to care when the loneliness overwhelms him like a tide.

Obi-Wan may have been slowly drowning all this time. He’s only realizing now.

-

That night, Obi-Wan silently opens his blanket in silent invitation. Soon enough, a dark lump of fluff enters his bed.

It’s unbefitting of a Jedi of his age and experience to need the comfort of a creature as small and fragile, but when the warmth of the cat curls around his chest, Obi-Wan finds it a little easier to breathe.

When fitful sleep claims him, his fingers are still buried in soft fur, his nose pressed against a fluffy head. His breath hitches from time to time, but a gentle, careful nudge always soothes him.

Dream-Anakin appears from under Obi-Wan’s covers, those dark curls sticking out everywhere as if someone has been ruffling his hair.

“Oh, master… Hey, come here. What’s wrong?”

Anakin’s voice is full of concern. His flesh hand reaches out to cup Obi-Wan’s chin, a thumb running small circles as if he has been preparing to comfort Obi-Wan, and now he finally has the chance.

Wouldn’t that be a nice reality? Anakin being there, always, ready to defend Obi-Wan from the sadness within him.

“They won’t let me come to you,” is Obi-Wan’s answer.

“Oh?”

Their bodies tangle up under the bedcover, fitting into each other like puzzle pieces. The warmth of Anakin gives Obi-Wan strength, so he lets out all the frustration.

“I thought I could see you, just this once. Just to make sure you’re alright. And I know, Anakin, when you left, you wanted nothing to do with the Order. With…” He lets the ache linger, lets Anakin see his hurt. “You wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Not you. Never you.”

A protest, so quiet it’s almost not there.

“Still, I was being selfish,” Obi-Wan continues. “I should not try to bother you again. Not after everything that happened. You must loathe to see an old man from your past, reminding you of all that hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Anakin insists, desperate. He pulls their bodies impossibly close, rubbing his forehead against Obi-Wan’s temple. “You were the kindest thing in my life. I just couldn’t see it until I left, and I—I never thought you’d still want to find me again, not after all this time.”

“How could I not? The thought of you being out there by yourself—” Obi-Wan’s voice shakes. “I thought I could bear it, Anakin, give it to the Force. I’m failing even that.”

It’s more than Obi-Wan has ever been willing to admit even to himself, alone in the quiet dark. Grief and foolishness have made him brave.

Anakin observes him with meaning in his eyes, remaining silent for a moment longer as if gathering courage himself. When he speaks next, his words are steady and patient.

“If you could see me now—the real me, right here with you, would you want to?”

Something about Anakin is different, beyond the shorter hair and the lines of his face. The warmth around him intensifies, the bright aura hums with anticipation. There is hope, so much hope rising from the ashes of the lost years between them, and Obi-Wan will not fail that again.

“I do. I want more than anything to be with you again, you must know,” he answers honestly.

“And why is that?”

“Because… I…”

“Say it, Obi-Wan. I just need you to say it.” A smile curls at Anakin’s lips. “I just need you.”

Oh, and how can Obi-Wan ever refuse that? He wasn’t there when Anakin needed him most, and it was already the biggest mistake of his life, but now…

Anakin is asking him of something again, and it’s something so simple. Only Obi-Wan himself, laying his heart bare.

He gives away his heart. Easily.

“It’s because I love you,” Obi-Wan says, plain and true. “I love you, Anakin.”

Light and warmth fills the dream, but nothing is brighter than the smile on Anakin’s face, his happiness almost from a fairytale.

-

Obi-Wan nearly chokes on a mess of curls when consciousness returns to him.

Long limbs tangle around him, weighing heavily in the small bed. Naked skin presses against his torse, the warmth bursting like a sun. The morning light slips through the curtains, casting layers of silver in the room.

The body around him stirs, taking in a long breath. The dark curls lift up, and then, blue eyes are meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze, blinking slowly.

Obi-Wan went to bed with a small cat curled against his chest, but wakes up with a full-sized, naked Anakin right between his arms.

“Oh,” he says dumbly. “Was that you this whole time?”

He hardly cares about the answer when Anakin stares at him for a beat, and then bursts out laughing. It’s so beautiful that the experience of hearing it for the first time in years nearly steals all the breath out of Obi-Wan’s lungs.

“Anakin.”

With a flip of his body, Anakin has straddled across Obi-Wan’s hips, pinning him down. He managed that too easily—how has he gotten so much stronger? What happened to Anakin when Obi-Wan is not there?

When Obi-Wan looks up, he’s now seeing Anakin in a new light. He looks the same as in those dreams, the hair still tragically short, but dream could never compare to the sight before Obi-Wan’s eyes. The years have only made Anakin more beautiful, adding sharp angles to his jaw, elegant lines at the corners of his eyes.

Obi-Wan reaches out to touch, and lets out a breath of relief when skin connects with skin.

This is real. Anakin has come back to him.

“Did you mean it?”

Anakin can barely hide the smile with Obi-Wan cradling his cheek, tracing the lines of his chin. He turns to rub against Obi-Wan’s palm, tickling his skin. It seems something remains the same, even when he’s no longer trapped in a cat’s body.

“Between us, you are the believer of fairytales,” Obi-Wan answers, patiently. “The curse wouldn’t have broken otherwise. But you know I did, Anakin. How could I not? Though I have a question for you too.”

There will be no more lost years, Obi-Wan vows to himself. He’d fight another war before he lets himself lose Anakin again. They have all the time ahead to grow closer again, to share stories. To heal.

“I love you too,” Anakin answers cheekily, “if that’s your question. Of course I do, and it didn’t take being cursed into a blasted cat for me to realize.”

The insolence on Anakin’s face looks exactly the same as old memories, with a pout on his lips and defiance in his eyes. Obi-Wan can’t help his own laughter.

His fingers tug at the short curls at Anakin’s nape, schooling his expression back to something resembling displeasure.

“I meant to ask if you will grow the hair out again, dear heart.”

And from the looks of it, his request will be fulfilled easily enough. They have all the time in the world, after all, in their own happily ever after.

[asarigg]

Body for Sale: a second reading of a disturbing past (csa)

Well, this part of the essay is the one where I imply a possible sexual assault towards Koujaku when he was a teenager, but since I was hesitant at first of talking more about it because I didn't want to be insensitive I made it shorter than originally intended. I was encouraged to expand a little bit on it, so I edited it. Since the post is already kinda long, I thought of doing a separate post for those interested. Please don't hesitate to correct me if you deem it needed.

I’ve sometimes wondered if there was some sort of sexual abuse on Ryuuhou’s part towards Koujaku. Nothing is implied canonically, at least physically, but the erotic connotations of the story of the tattoo artist he’s based on, the sadism, the drugging in order to do something non-consensually, and his constant references to love make me think of it happening on a symbolic level. I think it’s obvious that Ryuuhou loves Koujaku, in his own way, as his creation, and he’s talking about love at first sight and the similarity of love and hate. Besides, the way Koujaku acts can be easily associated with it.

Even though he appears to be charming and flirty, he actually has a very low self-esteem, seeing himself as worthless, dirty, and constantly self-blaming for what happened. His tattoo being his shame and filth, something he doesn’t want to taint Aoba with, works just as an allegory of victims so commonly feeling guilty and dirty (causing them to shower more regularly than before in an attempt to wash it away). He shows unconformity when Aoba wants to touch him in bed (something that with time and the support of a loved one gets a little better), and when he tries to touch and wash away his dirt, his shame, his tattoo, Koujaku jumps at contact, which could also be interpreted as having a flashback as part of his ptsd.

All the anger he feels inside could also be part of the consequences. And he mostly shows his hatred towards Ryuuhou, even though his father is supposedly still alive and was the one who did the most damage to them, especially his mother, whom he cared about the most. At the end of the day Ryuuhou “just” did the tattoo and his father has been treating them like that for years. So why does he tunnel all his rage only to him? Budget and time limit reasons? Maybe, but in this essay we’re not taking that. Obviously Ryuuhou was the one that made him lose it, torturing him ever since the beginning only to anger him, ultimately causing the death of his mother. Maybe he was too used to see his father being aggressive with them, something to be expected, kind of like how it's established that men are more violence driven and women are emotion driven. But it can also be read as the response Koujaku had to a possible abuse. Physical punishment was to be expected, but sexual abuse?

Ryuuhou took advantage of his situation, to stop him from resisting he could always use his mother. We’ve already seen Ryuuhou being referenced as male and Koujaku as the female counterpart, being lovers and enemies at the same time, with the female being associated with the powerless, abused victim, submissive, and being controlled by the male, as disgusting as it sounds. Ever since he was tattooed his body did not belong to him anymore, Ryuuhou made sure to mark his body and mind so that he could never forget him. He could have found refuge in his religious practices as well.

There’s always stigma around these cases, and the stigma around male victims makes it especially harder for them to speak about what happened to them. That sense of powerlessness, of losing control, of being less of a man, causing them having trouble with their identity, all of it is wrapped in toxic masculinity. And all of this is seen in Koujaku. He keeps all his feelings for himself, feeling distant from other people and engaging in a lonely way of life.

There are people that report having trouble with their relationships with others not only because of the trauma that happened to them, but also out of fear of doing that very same thing to someone else.

This traumatic event usually makes victims apprehensive of any sexual activity, but there’s a considerable large number of victims that, opposite to this, develop hypersexuality. His sexual life is more important to Koujaku's character than it may seem at first (like it's just a quirk of him), he sees his body as a tool for the pleasure of others, meanwhile his own pleasure is not important. He developed an unhealthy way of interacting with others, therefore he developed unhealthy sexual practices. This view of him being sort of a prostitute isn’t so far away. Flame Willow, the part of Platinum Jail they end in, pretty much looks like a red light district. It’s introduced as a place for “passionate folks to get their thrills”, an euphemism. Not only it looks visually similar to a red light district, but the name of this area also directly references the red light district: Yoshiwara. This district had a willow tree at the entrance, which grew popular because clients would look back to it when they left. The "Flame" talks about the two great fires the district suffered, one in 1657, which made it change its location, and one in 1913, which almost destroyed it completely.

He also smokes and drinks, which are not talked about a lot as an addiction to cope with his pain. In the Drama CD though they do talk about it as a way to escape the stress he’s facing because of the Tamaokuri, so we can assume that he uses these two and possibly developed an addiction, wanting to drink until blacking out to forget for a moment.

Even if the sexual abuse didn’t happen canonically, the metaphor is as close as it can be, so it’s in your hands how you want to see it. Even if it’s hard to talk about something like this, I really like how this was built, because something that isn’t sexual abuse (at least canonically, and I wonder if the allegory was intentional or not) actually feels like it, something that changed a person’s entire life, his perception of himself and the people he interacts with, an event with an actual weight, something I missed from literally any actual SA scene that we got in the rest of the game.

[thelovelylolly]

It Will Come Back

Summary: It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways... Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood, and violence, kinda hurt/comfort, reader is described as smaller/shorter than frank, let me know if i missed anything :) Word Count: ~1.9k Notes: first fic of 2024! first off, frank castle with a hozier song makes me go bonkers. second, my requests are open and my guidelines are in the pinned post so please send them in :)

You met Frank in a very unconventional way. You weren't able to sleep one night, your gut telling you something was going to happen, when he slumped against your window on the fire escape. You heard a thud and raced to your room, seeing a dark figure being lit only by the dim streetlights.

You considered the risk of letting him for a second, then crossed your room and opened the window. His body was limp, but he was awake as he fell back into your room. You tried your best to break his fall, but he was heavier than you anticipated. You both grunted as you pulled him all the way into your room and helped him into your nearby desk chair.

You gave him a once over as you closed your window, unsure if you were his saving grace or next victim. He was covered in blood, sweat, and bruises, so you guessed you were safe. He didn't seem as dangerous as he could be. You noticed his dark gaze and tensed body, even if he was injured. His nose stood out to you most, the one thing that made him seem familiar.

"Are you gonna just stand there and stare at me, or are you gonna help me?" He grumbled, groaning as he sat up more in his seat.

"Sorry," you replied softly. "What can I do?"

His gaze darted around your room, like he was trying to figure you out just from what you had in it. "You got a first-aid kit?"

You nodded and went to your bathroom, quickly returning with a first-aid kit in your hands. You turned the tall lamp next to your desk on before setting it down. Your turned back to him, getting a better look at him under the light. His dark hair matched his dark eyes and some of the dried blood on his face. He had some bruises already blooming on his face and a few cuts, nothing life threatening there.

You cleared your throat, stopping yourself from staring at him too long. You popped open the first-aid kit, hoping you had the things he needed. "Where are you hurt?"

"Got slashed pretty good on my left side," he answered, lifting his arm a bit to show you the cut in his clothes and skin.

You nodded and reached for the zipper on his black hoodie. "Can I take this off?"

"Mhm," he hummed.

You quickly unzipped it and pulled it off, careful not to irritate his cut or any other injuries he may have had. You dropped it onto the floor and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it up just enough to see the gash.

"Can you hold your shirt up for me?" You asked quietly. His hand replaced yours, holding his shirt up while you grabbed some of the gauze from the kit to press onto the bleeding cut. You used one of your hands to press the gauze and the other to grab the stitch kit you had inside the kit.

"Can I ask why you have a the stuff for stitches at the ready?" He asked as you got the needle and thread ready.

You laughed dryly. "Can I ask why you showed up at my window with a giant gash in your side and probably other injuries you're not gonna mention?"

"Fair," he replied, a tired smirk on his face.

"You want anything to numb the pain, or are you good? You seem like you've done this before," you said, surprised how easily you fell into this banter with him.

"I'm good, just do it," he grumbled.

You moved your gauze away, taking a deep breath to calm your shaky hands before starting his stitches. You heard every sharp inhale and long exhale as he took deep breaths to get through each stitch. His hand holding up his shirt gripped the fabric tightly, his knuckles turning white. You went as fast as you could without hurting him any further.

It felt like an hour, but in a few minutes, you were done. You tied the thread up and cut it, quickly placing the needle on your desk and grabbing more gauze to hold against it. You pressed the gauze with one hand again and grabbed gauze wrap with your other.

"Can you sit up please?" You asked, glancing up at him. He glanced down at you and held your gaze for a second before looking away and wordlessly sitting up.

You quickly wrapped the gauze wrap around his midsection and finished up, ignoring the way your face heated up when his gaze met yours. You grabbed the bloody gauze from earlier off the floor and put it with the needle you used before standing up.

"Anything else?"

He shook his head as he dropped his shirt back down. You quickly cleaned up the kit and tossed the used needle and gauze into your trashcan. You picked up his hoodie and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," you replied with a soft smile. "You wanna crash on my couch? I don't think you should go anywhere far in your, uh, condition."

He nodded quietly. You helped him up and led him into your living room, letting him put some weight onto you as he walked. You lowered him onto the couch and he sat down with a sigh. You went into your small kitchen and got him a glass of water and some painkillers, setting it on the coffee table after walking back.

"Can I get your name?" You asked, sitting in the chair across from him.

He popped the pills into his mouth and downed them with the water. "Frank," he answered, setting his now half-empty glass down.

"Like...Frank Castle?"

Frank's gaze jumped to you, eyes a bit wide with surprise.

"That's why you look so familiar. I've seen you on the news and in the papers," you quickly add.

"Ah, thought you'd freak out on me and call the police," he replied, leaning back on your plush couch.

"I think...I don't agree with your, um, methods, but you're cleaning up the streets. Making it a bit safer for people like me to walk home at night, y'know?"

"Glad you see it that way..." He trailed off, waiting for you to give him your name. You did, and he echoed you, almost like testing it out.

"Well, I'm going to try to get some rest," you said as you stood up with a smile. "I think you deserve some. Goodnight, Frank."

"G'night."

------

Since then, you let Frank into your apartment late a night to stitch him up and let him sleep. It wasn't anything more than that. Sure, you two bantered or talked about random subjects, but it was mainly to distract each other from the blood or wound. You were just there to help him, and you two never crossed the unspoken boundary you both had. You silently agreed to be acquaintances, maybe friends.

Then Frank started to cross that.

He started to drop by earlier in the evening, no bruises or blood on him. He'd just show up at the window he always came in, and of course, you'd let him in. You were confused why he would show up this early and not hurt like usual, but you found it nice that he was there without the need to be sewn back up.

He'd come in for a bit, you'd give him a drink or offer him dinner, and you two would talk. You'd spend a long time talking, or sometimes just enjoying each other's company, until it got dark enough and he left to do his job. Sometimes, he'd come back in the early morning hours to get patched up. Other times, he wouldn't show up until the next day when he'd stop by to spend time with you.

Soon enough, you saw a slightly deeper version of him rather than the surface level one you met. He still had some things covered up, but he had revealed enough to cause you to start falling for him. You wanted to stop yourself so you wouldn't make things complicated, but you knew if he wanted to, he'd leave and never look back.

That's what scared you. Your feelings would be one sided and once he figured it out, he'd stop coming by just to hang out with you and eventually, stop coming by for you to patch him up. You didn't want him to leave any time soon, but you knew it could easily happen.

"Hey, you okay? You zoned out there," Frank asked, gently putting his hand on your shoulder to bring you out of your thoughts.

You looked over at him, who was sitting on the other side of the couch as you. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit tired."

"I can go if-"

"No, no, stay," you quickly say, cutting him off. "I, uh, I like your company."

You watched his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn a little pinker as he looked away from you. He ran a hand over his face, like he was trying to rub the blush from it. You looked away from him, playing with the hem of your shirt. You thought you had crossed a line and made him uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna get some water," you said quietly before getting up from the couch and going to the kitchen.

You quickly grabbed a glass and filled it up with water. As you drank it, you thought you'd hear Frank's heavy footsteps head to your bedroom and the window open. You thought you'd hear the sounds of Hell's Kitchen flood in through the open window as he left. Instead, you heard his footsteps approach you slowly.

You finished your drink and put your glass in the sink before turning around to face him. He wasn't very close, but in your small kitchen, it felt closer than it was.

"Why do you come here even when your not hurt and you don't need anything?" You asked, breaking the silence between you two.

Frank sighed. "'Cause you're...you. I don't know, I'm not good with words. But ever since you started to help me out, I...I wanna keep coming back to you. I think I fell in love with you or something because you keep pulling me back here."

You smiled softly at his confession. "I think I fell in love with you, too. I was just scared you were gonna leave if I said anything."

He smiled back, stepping closer and closer to you. A comfortable silence fell between you two. One of Frank's hands fell to your waist and the other tilted your face up to look at him. Your hands naturally wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Your eyes darted to his lips before meeting his eyes.

You caught his gaze dipping down before meeting yours again. You started to lean in and Frank met you halfway. When his lips met yours, the months of banter and drinks and dinners together made sense. He had quietly been telling you he cared about you, maybe even loved you, for so long.

You melted into the kiss and his touch, pulling him as close as you could. It was sweet and slow. You could tell from the way he held you and kissed you just how much he wanted this kiss, how much he wanted you.

When you pulled away, you both stayed close to each other, leaning your foreheads against each other. He brushed his nose against yours as you both smiled.

"I'm not gonna leave you, sweetheart. I will come back."

[vividraft]

tacet discord matchmaker ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - where he more or less, accidentally confesses his love to you ⋆·˚ ༘ *

⇢ ˗ˏˋ characters: Jiyan

⇢ ˗ˏˋ readers gender not specified !

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important note: This is shorter than i wanted it to be, but I gotta post something! I'm also still trying to get used to writing for wuwa characters

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: Thank you guys for all the support!!

masterlist

Again and again, you tried your best to help in battle. Even if Jiyan repeatedly told you not too. You should probably listen to him, since he is the general and all, yet you can’t let him on the battlefield alone. You couldn’t stand seeing him fight out there alone. 

Not when you held him so dear to you, so no matter what he said to you, you weren’t willing to watch him fight without your help. It’s not like you couldn’t defend yourself. You were a resonator after all. 

Yet you made a tiny mistake. A tiny slip up was all it took for you to get hurt, and now you are sitting back at the camp. No matter how much you insisted you were okay, Jiyan ended up dragging you back to get you patched up.

“Alright I’m all fixed up now let’s go back-”, you jumped up from the mat you were sitting on, a silent attempt to prove that you were fine, and could keep going.

“No you’re staying here, you’re not going back on the battlefield with a still bleeding wound”, Jiyan pushed you back down on your shoulders while speaking. 

“Jiyan I swear I’m fine and I can keep going, it barely even hurts”, you stared up at him.

“I will follow you whether you want me to or not, so either we can head back together or I’ll go on my own”, you grinned at him like you just won. 

“I’ll have someone else keep an eye on you. You’re not going anywhere until that wound is fine again y/n”, Jiyan crossed his arms. 

“But-”

“No buts. I cannot let you get back out there. We have this conversation every single time y/n”, Jiyan was already ready to leave again. 

“Yeah we wouldn’t have this conversation every time if you would just let me help you out there, but you treat me like a child that can’t fend for themselves”, you leaned back against the wall in frustration, already thinking of a plan how to get out of here. 

“You know that that’s not true y/n. I just care about you and won’t let you tire yourself out extremely just so you can get what you want!”, this was already running out of control. 

“It’s not about me getting what I want Jiyan! Do you not see that I’m doing all this just-”

“Of course I see it!”

“Then why won’t you just let me help! Do you think I’m fucking weak? Do you think I can’t fend for myself! Am I a bother to you out there on the battlefield?!”, tears were starting to cling at the corner of your eyes, and you shot up to bore your finger into Jiyans chest. 

“What- no! None of those things are true and you know it!”, people around you have stopped in their tracks to watch you two argue. 

Anyone else would have been scared standing in front of Jiyan, with him right in front of you shouting right back at you. Not you though. Not when you have known this man since as long as you can remember. 

“Then what is your reason for always keeping me out and away from the battlefield huh?!”, Jiyan didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you. He looked around locking eyes with all the people who stopped to watch, some being send back to work with a mere look into Jiyan’s eyes. 

“Come on, answer me! Don’t ignore me like I am not standing right in front of you!”

“Y/n we’re not doing this right here”, Jiyan took your hand away from his chest and put it down. 

“Oh what so your solution is to run away again? You always do this!”, a tear has fallen from your eye by now, and without caring who or how many people were watching, you just kept on shouting at Jiyan. 

To be really honest with yourself, you couldn’t care less if he hated you for making him angry all the time. He could hate you more than anyone in the world, and it was okay with you. It was all okay with you, as long as you could still make sure that he was okay. 

Even if it was from afar. 

“Y/n, stop-”

“It’s not fair! Everyone else gets to be out there, fighting by your side except for me! What did I do?!”, tear after tear fell, but the words which came out of your mouth expressed nothing except for pure anger. 

Jiyan has always been unpredictable, in battle, in conversation or even in his actions. But never this unpredictable. 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer, to whisper in your ear, attempting to not let anyone else hear his words, since they were only meant for you. 

“I’m doing this because I love you, y/n. Is that reason enough for you?”

Indeed an effective way to shut someone up. 

“Jiyan I-”, all words were knocked out of your vocabulary, and your eyes wandered to the floor. In shame maybe? 

How did you never notice? I mean you and him had the same reasons for your actions. Maybe you were a little blind.

You wanted him to know how you felt about him as well. But was now the right moment to let him know? The hand he had on your wrist has now wandered down to your hand, and it remained there. It was warm. Warmer than yours for sure. 

“Jiyan I… love you too. I love you too”, you replied. 

Suddenly a voice interrupted. 

“General! General Jiyan! The wave of Tacet Discords has been defeated. Shall we go back to our usual patrol routines?”

“Oh- yes in that case, return to your routines. I will be joining you in a little while. Please inform the magistrate and her assistant that everything has been dealt with”, it always amazed you how quickly Jiyan’s brain could be back on track, no matter how distracted he was before. 

“Well-”, you started, looking for words to summarize the feeling in your heart but could find none. And luckily you didn’t have to.

“Y/n you need to understand, the only reason that I try my hardest to keep you off the battlefield is because I know how terrifying it can be. If you fight for anybody, it should be for yourself. Not for me. With so many TDs out there as there were today, I would hate to have you fight while being injured. And yes I am very well aware that you can fend for yourself, but that doesn’t take away how worried I get”, Jiyan’s eyes kept flicking from the floor to the expressions you wore on your face. 

Never have you seen him so… Emotional? Is that the right word?

“Y/n, I am truly sor-”, there was no way you would let him apologize to you after all that. Quickly, you cut him off with a kiss. Catching him off guard has always been a challenge, but like this, it was easier than ever. 

“Don’t apologize. Not for something like this”

taglist: @lupicalbestwolf

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 9

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1.8 K

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), cyber-bullying/mean comments, SMUTSMUTSMUT (P in V, Fem receiving oral/fingering, hickeys, heavy making out, pet names, protection used!!!), you can not convince me that Chris isn’t a whimperer, self doubt, Not Edited

A/N: I’m sososososo sorry it took so long, I wanted it to be as good as possible. If anything doesn’t make sense, just chalk it up to my virginal status lol.

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

After patching things up with Matt, me and Chris decided to hard launch our relationship. It’s been two months since we went public, and the fans just seem to get more upset about it every day. Yesterday was our ten month anniversary, and the comments on our posts were horrific.

@ sturniolo.police

Do y’all think he just stays so she doesn’t kill herself?

@ Chris-Sturn-girlie

@ Sturniolo.police Probably, she treats her body like a kitchen counter… I would be scared too. I bet that’s the only reason why he even asked her out lol.

It was like watching a car accident, I couldn’t stop scrolling. I knew that it was stupid for me to think that dress was a good idea, but Chris picked it out specifically. The dress was a tight long sleeved crème dress. The issue was that it was fairly short, showing a large portion of my upper thighs. It was the first time since eighth grade that I felt comfortable wearing anything shorter than knee length, and less than 24 hours later I was severely regretting my decision.

“”“”“”“”“”

Now I stand in front of our mirror wondering if I should even go out with them tonight. The boys have a really important colab dinner, and I would hate for it to be ruined by people who don’t know how to be kind on the internet.

I look at myself and see someone I hate. The black short sleeve dress accentuates the jagged scars running across my wrists. I always tried to avoid spots that were hard to hide, but in that moment of desperation I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I’m so caught up in my thoughts, that I don’t even hear the door open.

“Is everything okay?” I look up to see Chris behind me, with his arms wrapped around my waist.

“I um… I don’t think I’m feeling up to going tonight… sorry.” He rests his head on my shoulder gently as he gives me a questioning glance. “I don’t want to ruin dinner, and everyone is already saying stuff about the scars on my legs… and if people find out I tried t-” I cut myself off before I could say the truth.

Chris turns me around quickly, looking deep into my eyes. “I don't give a shit what anyone else has to say, you are perfect for me… just as you are.” I try to protest, but he stops me before I can even get one word out. “But… if you don’t feel like going out tonight, that’s okay. I can tell my brothers to just go without us.”

I can feel my eyes burning, not from sadness or guilt, but from the realization that the man in front of me doesn’t care about anything but me. “You don’t have to miss it because of me, don’t feel like you have to stay home.”

In less than three seconds he’s putting his phone into his pocket. “Don’t be silly, I already texted the guys.” I hear the guys yell a quick goodbye and feel better from downstairs before the door closes and the car drives off. “Now… do you need any help getting out of that dress?” He gives me a quick kiss before turning me around so he can reach my zipper.

As soon as the zipper stops, my dress falls to a puddle on the floor. When I turn around I notice Chris’s eyes fall to the matching green butterfly set I have on.

When Chris finally meets my eyes again, his cheeks are a shade of red that I’ve never seen on him. “Like what you see, pretty boy?” Chris is a sputtering mess, trying to respond. I cut him off by quickly connecting my lips with his. His hands quickly find their way into my hair as he lifts me up by the backs of my legs, carrying me to our shared bed.

This wasn’t the first time me and Chris had ever made out, but something was different about this time. There was a hunger in each of us, that kissing couldn’t satiate.

Chris tossed me gently onto the bed before positioning himself above me and continuing our make out session. His lips slowly traveled down my neck, stopping for short moments, then continuing their assault until they landed on my collar bone. A moan left my mouth, much louder than I meant to, as my back arched off the bed.

“You like that baby?” Chris groaned into my ear.

“mhm…” My brain went blank as he made his way down to the valley of my breasts. “Please…”

“please what, ma?” He looks up to me with a mischievous grin.

“Touch me… please.” I practically whine out, upset that he stopped kissing me. Chris quickly taps my side, signaling me to lift up as he unclasps my bra in one swift movement. My bra is replaced with Chris’s hands before I even register that he removed it. He continues to leave wine colored marks across my breasts, while his hands squeeze in the most beautiful ways.

After what feels like an eternity, i feel Chris's hot breath moving down towards my waistline. He glances up at me quickly before turning his head toward my inner thigh. I feel him lift my leg up, over his shoulder, before he resumes his mission. "Did you know that your legs are my favorite part of your body?"

“no they aren’t.” I accuse with a small giggle. I never realized how ticklish my legs are. He quickly sucks on a spot, that will surely be a dark shade of red tomorrow morning, causing my brain to malfunction.

When he stops, I look down to see him looking at me with his big, blue, puppy dog eyes. He toys with my waistline, before finally opening his mouth. “Is this okay?”

I've never responded quicker, nodding my head aggressively while mumbling out a quick please and thank you. It takes him no time to get my panties off, and onto the floor. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“yes… just please touch me!” I’m practically begging when he decides to indulge me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, seeing as I’ve never even ‘helped myself’. Whatever I expected, this was much better. The second he latched his lips onto my clit, I was seeing stars. My whole body felt warm and tingly, and I think I’m close. I quickly intertwine my fingers into Chris’s hair, pulling with the rhythm of his tongue. All of the sudden I feel a long thin finger entering, and I can’t stop the sudden sensation that was building inside me. I couldn’t even get out a full sentence without a loud, almost pornographic moan interrupting me. The second I feel a second finger, I loose all control over my body. My back arches off the bed, as my legs slam shut around Chris’s head. Once I manage to calm myself down, Chris slowly removes his fingers from inside of me.

“Having fun?” I see him wiping his hand against his pant leg, his lips still glistening with me. I don’t think I have the strength to speak, so I simply nod. “Was it… was that okay?” I can see the yearning for approval in his eyes. “… Like, was it good for you?”

I don’t really know how to respond to that question, my brain is stiff fuzzy from my orgasm. “It was amazing baby…” I don’t want this moment to end. “I want to… can we do more… If that’s okay?”

I swear Chris has the condom out in less than three seconds. “Are you sure?” He’s looking at me like he truly doesn’t care what’s in it for him. “We can stop… or do other things, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

I do my best to find his eyes in my dazed state. “I’m sure… if it’s anything like what you just did, I’m not sure I ever want you to stop.” He nods quickly before getting up and stripping.

The second his waistband hits mid thigh, his member is hitting his stomach. It looks painful, so red and hard. I don’t know how it’s going to fit, but I trust him. He slides the condom on, quickly climbing back on top of me.

“Are you sure the at you want this?” This again. “We can stop whenever you want to… and you really don’t have to do any-”

I cut him off quickly by grabbing ahold of him and making sure that he knows that my motives are purely selfish at this point in time. He finally gets the hint and lines himself up.

“fu-ck…” Chris practically whimpers as he pushes into me. I unintentionally clench around him, who knew that a man whimpering was so sexy?

“Babe… you gotta stop squeezing me like that, I won’t last.” I mutter a quick apology, before giving him the go ahead to start moving.

It’s an interesting feeling. It’s not necessarily painful or uncomfortable, just different. It doesn’t take long for the feeling to melt into pleasure though.

The house is filled with sounds of whimpering and moaning, as we reach our highs. Chris reaches down and starts rubbing heavenly circles against my already overstimulated clit, causing my orgasm to crash into me without warning. I swear my vision goes out for a minute while Chris chases his own high.

Chris slowly pulls out, making me cry out in pleasure. “I’m sorry, but I have to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

The second he leaves it hits me all at once. What if it wasn’t good for him? What if he realizes that he only wanted me for sex, and decides the rest isn’t worth it? What if he-

“Are you okay?” He pulls me from my doom spiral, as he starts cleaning me up. He crawls into the bed next to me, looking deep into my eyes.

“Sorry… my brain is just trying to convince me that you’re going to leave.” I see his eyes soften, as he realizes what I’m saying. “It’s not necessarily like I believe it, I just worry sometime that all of my flaws outweigh the things keeping you here… like what if you leave, or you only stay because you feel like I’ll kill myself if you don’t?” Chris stares at me, looking like he doesn’t fully grasp the concept. “Does that make sense? I feel like I’m going crazy sometimes.”

“Do you really think that I would do that?” The way he asks it makes my heart break.

It’s not like I really think that he would do something like that, but my brain just refuses to let me be happy. “No baby… I just find it so hard to trust anyone who says they care.”

Chris just pulls me into his arms, promising me that he loves me more than words could describe. After a few minutes in his arms we decide to put some clothes on and order some food. After dinner, I drift slowly into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Don't expect a call | Xavier Thorpe x Addams!Reader

Summary: Your and Xavier's relationship unexpectedly turn into something else over the summer

Word count: 1.9k

Request: 6, 9, 22 with xavier please!! I'm dying to see what you will write with them, knowing how awesome your works in general are! Have a good day 💜 ‘‘Would you just shut up and kiss me already.’‘ + “I wasn’t done kissing you.” + ‘’How can you be so blind?’’

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Following the death of Principal Weems, the rest of the semester was canceled and everyone went home. Students and parents crowded the hall with their suitcases, making it difficult to navigate. Lurch would be picking you and Wednesday up, but you needed to find your sister first.

Your shoulder was still tender from the arrow you took during the battle against Crackstone, but it was healing well. There will undoubtedly be a scar, but nothing too noticeable.

Your eyes searched for a pink blob, figuring Wednesday would be with Enid. Since the battle, the two have been attached to the hip.

During your search, your eyes fell on Xavier at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing. He waved and you lifted your eyebrows. What could he want?

The heels of your shoes clicked as you walked up the stairs and made your way to Xavier. You and him had started on the wrong foot at your arrival at Nevermore, but you were good now.

A smile grew on his face when you appeared in his sightline, happy to see you were on your two feet and well. He tried to visit you at the infirmary, but you were already gone when he showed up.

''I heard you're a free man now,'' you said flatly.

Xavier nodded once. ''Yep. All charges dismissed.''

Although you weren't the one who wrongly framed him, you felt a little responsible for the time he spent behind bars. Wednesday needed to apologize for what she put him through. Those days and nights he spent in the small cell must've been long, sad and lonely — even for a solitaire like Xavier.

''I got you something. It's a thank you for taking that arrow for me. You didn't have to do that.'' He handed you a black box with a matching ribbon, trying to conceal how smitten he was for you. ''Welcome to the 21st century, Addams.''

You opened the top, impressed by the fancy wrapping, and revealed the small object inside the box: a brand new and shiny cell phone. Your eyes shifted to the gift giver.

''My number's in there already.''

''It's bold of you to assume I would need it.'' You closed the box. ''I hope you don't expect me to call you.''

Xavier shook his head. He would be waiting forever. ''No. Never. But I'd settle for a text, though.''

''Goodbye, Xavier.''

*

For the first weeks of being home, you ignored every one of his texts. You made it look like you didn't care, but deep down you were very happy to get a message from him. Thing kept telling you it was rude to not answer and that you should text him back, but Xavier knew to expect nothing from you. You doubted he was offended by your silence.

After a full month of silence, you started giving him short answers once in a while. He was surprised the first time you replied. He even sent you a shocked emoji of his face. But you had to tell him that the quote he was reciting was wrong.

And, you were starting to miss him. Just a little.

One late evening, you found yourself looking him up on social media. There were mostly artsy pictures of tubes of paint and dirty brushes, paintings, a garden you assumed to be in his backyard, and the most recent, a selfie of him and Ajax. According to the posting date, it had been taken a few days ago. You noticed Xavier's hair had gotten longer. He was now able to do a full ponytail without having shorter pieces falling out at the front.

He looked handsome.

*

Summer came, and so did Enid. After begging her parents to let her take a flight across the country to visit you and Wednesday — mostly Wednesday —, they finally agreed. Her mom said it was her reward for finally wolfing out, which sounded wrong to your ears.

Your parents were surprised when they saw her coming out of the Addams' black Cadillac, looking the exact opposite of their daughters, but they grew fond of her very quickly. After two days, she was already part of the family.

While Wednesday was slowly and secretly falling for the sweet werewolf who favored the color pink, you caught yourself developing feelings for Xavier. He had taught you how to make video calls and it was so much better than texting.

''What is this called again?'' you asked, seeing Xavier's face through the small screen.

''Facetime.''

''Oh. Yes.'' You always forgot the name. ''I like this.'' I like seeing you.

Xavier smiled, his dimples poking through his cheeks.

You began talking about the black dahlias you grew in your mother's greenhouse and although Xavier didn't know shit about plants and flowers, he listened to everything you had to say. He loved listening to your voice.

As summer went on, it was getting more and more difficult for him to hide his feelings. Even through a screen. He was falling hard for you. But you didn't like him that way and, although he deeply wished you would feel the same, he respected that. He liked you so much that he just wanted to be around you — or in your life —, including being okay with being placed in the friendzone, even if that was obviously the last place he wanted to be.

*

The leaves began changing colors and Lurch drove the Addams clan to the academy. A single black dahlia rested on your lap, which earned a confused look from your sister. If you wanted to bring flowers to your dorm, wouldn't it have been more practical to bring a pot?

You ignored her question and went back to looking out the window until the gates of Nevermore Academy came in sight. A strange feeling bubbled in your stomach and your mother didn't fail to notice the slight twitch of your lips.

After saying goodbye to your parents and Pugsley, Wednesday left to find Enid and your eyes searched the quad for Xavier. You spotted his best friend, and found the green eyed artist by his side.

A small smile curled on your lips, but you quickly composed yourself. To make up, you gave a death stare to the first year boy on your right. He quickly hung his head down. It wasn't nice, but you had a reputation to maintain.

Raising your eyes back to Xavier, you watched as he laughed at something Ajax must have said. It was nice to see him in person and not trapped in a tiny phone screen.

You smoothed your dress and went to him. ''Hi.''

Xavier's attention snapped the second you opened your mouth, a melody to his ears. ''Hi,'' he greeted back, trying to fight the smile on his face but failing.

Beside him, Ajax bit back a snicker, then excused himself.

''This is for you,'' you said, handing him the black dahlia you were holding. ''Grown in my personal greenhouse.''

A soft flush coloring his cheeks. Xavier acted standoffish with everyone, but you had him wrapped around your little finger.

A misogynist would be offended, saying men offer flowers to women. Not Xavier.

He accepted the single flower and twirled it between his fingers. ‘’It’s beautiful. Looks more a deep burgundy and a deep mahogany than black, though.’’

You scoffed lightly. ‘’Trying to impress me with your artist vocabulary?’’

‘’Is it working?’’

‘’No.’’

The corner of his mouth curled.

He would never admit it out loud, but Xavier loved when you’re mean to him. Your blunt honesty and one-liners that knocked people off their pedestals was part of your personality and he found it endearing.

Xavier's phone alarm went off and his smile fell. He fished the device out of his pocket, then read the reminder with a disappointed face. ‘’I gotta go. I have a video appointment with my therapist in ten minutes.’’

You didn't want him to leave, but you couldn't hold him back.

‘’Okay. I'll see you later.’’

‘’Do you...want to walk with me to the dormitory?’’ Xavier asked, holding his breath as he waited for your answer.

You gave him a single nod and headed toward the right aisle of the Academy.

As you were walking, Xavier’s arm could brush yours from time to time. Each time it did, you felt spiders in your stomach. You could smell his cologne too. A mix of pine and something else you couldn't decipher.

‘’After Dr. Kinbott's death and everything that followed, my father was quick to find me a new therapist. An expensive one that would fix all of his son’s crazies in the most secrecy.’’ Xavier scoffed, shaking his head at his father's terrible parenting. ’’She’s been helping me deal with the aftermath of my arrest and put order into my thoughts. I thought my life would go back to how it was before I got arrested, but it didn’t. Although I was proven innocent, some still believe I murdered those people.’’

‘’Tyler was the monster—’’ you quickly said.

‘’I know.’’ He dropped his head, his next words quieter. ‘’But I guess it’s easier to believe an outcast did it than the sheriff’s ‘normie’ son...’’

This made your heart ache for Xavier. He may be obstinate and irrational at times, but he would never murder somebody. Especially not Rowan, who he used to call his roommate and friend. They had a fallout a little before his death, but nothing that would have pushed Xavier to kill him.

If you heard anyone say something bad about him, they better run or they'll know what you're capable of. The Addams were known to be crazy, but you preferred to say wildly devoted to the ones you love — whether it be a friend, a family member or a lover. There's nothing you wouldn't do to defend or protect the ones you cared about.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you reached the boys' dormitory.

That walk was over way too soon.

‘’Xavier?’’ He shifted his green eyes down at you, your height difference more apparent when you were standing close. ‘’Before we part, there's something I need to tell you.’’

He drew his eyebrows, a wash of concern over his face. ‘’I’m listening.’’

‘’This summer has been revealing for me. I found in you a friend I didn't know I needed. I've always been a lonely person and I'm comfortable that way, but it's nice to have a friend. But as the days and weeks went by, I found myself looking forward to your every text and call and sometimes, I never wanted them to end,’’ you admitted transparently. ‘’It took me a while to figure out why I was feeling that way and why I always had spiders in my stomach every time someone mentioned your name. Xavier, I…I think I want us to be more than friends. I don’t know if that’s how I’m supposed to say it, but—’’

Just like in those horrifying normies rom-coms, Xavier crashed his lips on yours, interrupting you with a kiss.

You took a few seconds to react, not expecting him to do this, but then responded to his kiss, standing on your tiptoes and curling a hand behind his neck to pull him closer. Xavier’s lips moved over yours with extreme softness, kissing you the way he always wanted to.

You pulled back for air, finding yourself smiling when seeing a smudge of your lipstick on his face. It wasn’t that noticeable, but you liked that it was there. ‘’I've never been in love before, so I cannot promise you I'll be a perfect lover—’’

Xavier shook his head. ‘’I don't care. Perfect is boring anyway.’’ He held back a grin, pressing his forehead against yours. ''I prefer spooky and kooky.''

—

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[littledesertfox]

Do you have any favorite pictures of Rommel?

I do! Actually too many to decide which ones I like best, I think😅 But these are some of my favourites, I tried to kind of sort them into different categories (beware this is gonna be a long post):

Please note that the positive descriptions or "gushing" that may occur in this post refer strictly to his appearance, not his views or actions! I guess that makes sense since we're talking about pictures here, but just wanted to clarify it.

These are some of my favourite portraits of him, especially the first two are some I really like. This is probably just me talking in my own biased opinion, but I genuinely do think that he had a very beautiful face. Like, he looks so soft but still masculine at the same time? And his facial features just compliment each other very well. Somehow I also really like looking at his eyes (which is funny because I'm horrendously bad at that in real life😂), especially the first 3 pictures just have something very tender about them.

Next up, fully body photos! The second one is probably one of my favourite pictures of him ever, I don't know exactly what he's doing but he looks very funny xD But also these pictures always make me think that I can't help myself but find his body shape genuinely aesthetically appealing, and I've been trying to identify why that is. I think I just really like that he doesn't look like the "ideal" of a stereotypically masculine man, while appearing in no way less masculine because of that. Like, he wasn't built very tall or broad (I've read that he was about 1,68m, of course people were just shorter on average back then, but on photos together with others he often still looks rather small), he had a small torso and more slanted shoulders, overall just a more soft and (in my opinion) almost dainty body shape. I feel like the uniforms he typically wore just added to that, for example in the way they accented his hips quite a bit in some photos. Personally, I find this type of man with softer features like him just much more aesthetically attractive than a stereotypical dudebro/"alpha male" (I hate that word so much bruh💀) kind of guy. Plus, it also gives me an odd kind of reassurance in regard to my own gender expression. I could go on about this but I think I'll rather save that for a later post because this already got quite long.

Next a category that is very special to me🫶 Photos together with his chief of staff and best friend Fritz Bayerlein! I'd honestly love to add more of these, but they are sometimes a bit harder to find online. There are quite a few photos of them together in Bayerlein's biography, but I haven't scanned or taken pictures of most of them yet. I hope to post some of them in the future though, maybe also with some background information. I love all of these, but I especially adore how genuine and effortless Erwin's smile look in the second one. From all the things I've read about them, I like to think that he and Fritz really had a deep and trustful bond and cared a lot about each other.

I don't know how many pictures I can still fit into this post, so I'll finish it off with a few more that don't belong to a specific category:

Proud dad Rommel with little Manfred🥺 I feel like this is also a more uncommon photo where he's not wearing his usual uniform.

Young Rommel! I got to be honest, I enjoy pictures of him as a young man and I don't think he looked bad in the slightest, but I still think he's the type of person who gradually just started looking better and better as he got older. I wonder how he'd have turned out though if he got to live longer.

I just think he looks a bit funny with a Stahlhelm on😂 Not quite the way how you're used to seeing him.

I first came across this photo when I was maybe 13 or 14, and ever since I've wondered if it just had to do with the image quality and age, or if Rommel actually shaved his legs😂 Like, they look so smooth. I don't know about you, but if I was leading an army then shaving a legs would pretty much be the last thing I'd think of doing. Maybe he also simply had just very little or very light body hair though, I think it would fit in with the rest of his appearance.

I could go on for longer but I think this post is already long enough so I'll stop for now. At first I thought about making an extra category for family photos as well as for WW1 pictures of him, however I don't have a lot of them saved and was mostly using pictures here that I already had and didn't have to look up first. This was very fun though, I just love looking at all kinds of photos of him. Thanks for the ask <3