#and ended up being a sort of guide ?? idk

[shewhoeatssand]

I want to befriend Kaneki and meet with him and email him forever

[lolana101]

hello sweets! I love your work! And if I may request Ekko and reader trying for a baby?😭❤️, only if you want! Ty!

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

⤷ EKKO: BABY MAKING

⤷ feat. ekko (arcane league of legends)

cw: 18+ , begging, rough sex, sloppy sex, saliva, dirty talk, creampies, marking, biting

he’s pumping into you slowly, huffing softly his eyes trained onto your expression. a still wrapped condom hangs from his lips on which he promised to put on sooner, he’s only going so slow because this is the first time he’s felt your wet walls around him with no barrier.

“..fuck your so- so beautiful, so good.”

he shook out, leaning down to lick around your ear gently, a moan rising out of you. the condom sits beside your head now, it useless as he starts to pul faster, his hands sinking around your wrist and pushing up to guide your fingers between his.

his brows pinch in pleasure, his gaze trailing down to the bounce of your tits responding to the snap of his hips like a wave.

“wanna get you pregnant… badly.”

“..wha- mmnf.”

you can’t even get the words out to respond to his ridiculous statement.. question. demand? his tip is pressing too sweetly against your cervix, peppering it with his love.

“…after everything’s that’s happened. don’t we deserve to have- make something that makes us happy?”

he spoke quietly, his pace never stopping. this was a long time coming, a month ago he remembered asking you to get off birth control due to the worry of your hormones becoming poisonous… some stupid article he read.

his thumb dips between you two’s burning body’s, to softly rub on your puffy nerves as his hips snap at times to punctuate his words. he’s close, his cock twitching softly as his hips stutter slowly stopping.

“please? i’ve been thinking about this. you’d be so cute with a big bel-“

you kissed him gently, slowly rocking your body sloppily down onto him your teeth bumping against his own. it was sloppily, and you were hard to read. but the way your pussy clenched around his aching shaft, waiting for release said it all. you wanted this too.

he moans softly, grinding into you before his hips snap violently against your aching walls, his thumb rubbing your clit wanting to bring you to your orgasm. he read that’ll open up your cervix some more, maybe helping you get pregnant faster.

he’s lingers soft kisses up and down your neck, whispering sweet words of encouragement as his thumb working on your twitching clit, your thighs shaking. you were ready, he was ready. why not?

he’s hot seed spills deep inside of you, his moans sorts gasps and whispers of how warm you are, his thumb pressing against the bundle of nerves, your walls twitching as you feel your walls coat in his sticky love.

he burrows deep inside you, whispering something into your ear.

“we need to do that more do get you… pregnant.”

“i know. take me to the bath first…”

you hum, feeling him try to scoop you up with him still on his dick, he wants to make sure his love never leaves you, so a new love can grow inside of you. a love he’ll be sure to cherish.

thank you for being my first ever request yay!!! i tried to tie in the end with the first ekko fic i wrote :) i hope you enjoyed it!!

please like, follow, and i take requests for any fandom if interested !!

my most recent fic here

my past fic here

idk if you want smut of fluff, but i don’t mind both so feel free to specify!!

[p1astr81]

helloooou could i request something with Oscar, where reader maybe plays some sort of sport for her national team idk like field hockey or idk any sport you like. She gets injured and there’s a big chance she’ll have to retire and she gets so sad and Oscar hates to see her like this but then he tries a his absolute best to try to cheer her up through physiotherapy, trying to help her with her grief of not being able to play anymore, maybe he calls his mum and asks her for help.Just Oscar being the best bf ever

the sport isn’t specified so you can imagine any sport you want to💆‍♀️

It was a playoff game. Your team had been up by quite a few points, but there was still time on the board. You had the ball, taking it down the field with practiced ease. A player from the other team got desperate. Got too rough. Her leg tangled with yours.

As soon as you felt the tear of the ligament, you knew it was all over for you. When it happened, you collapsed onto the field. Hot and heavy tears streamed down your face in response to the pain and the overwhelming sense that it was the end. One ACL torn, fine. You could play through the pain that lingered months after your surgery. But both? Not a chance in hell you’d ever play how you used to.

Your teammates ran to your side, as did the other team. “I can’t.” You shuttered when one of your teammates tried to help you to your feet. “I- fuck, it’s my acl.” You muttered.

“Again?” She asked. You nodded, your face scrunched in pain.

Everything was loud then. Your teammates shouting for the athletic trainer and a medic. The crowd shouting over each other to figure out what happened.

But now, sat up in bed in yours and Oscar’s flat, everything was silent. Still. The incident happened a couple months ago, but it still haunts you in the night.

A cold sweat trickled down your back. The moon’s light filtered in from the half-open window, illuminating Oscar’s face just enough for you to see. Still asleep. Good.

Sliding the covers away from your body, you got up and headed for the bathroom. The tile was cool against your feet while the dim orange-tinted lights welcomed you for the fifteenth night in a row.

You took a cold cloth to your face and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Your eyes trailed to your knees. The scars—untouched by the sun—were lighter than your tanned skin. They stuck out far too much for your liking.

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped up at the sound of Oscar’s gentle voice.

You frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You muttered.

In response, he shook his head, dismissing you. He joined you on the edge of the bathtub, guiding your head to his shoulder. “Another bad dream?” He asked after a moment. A pause, then you nodded. “It’ll get better.” He tried to reassure.

But you disagreed with a shake of your head. “the doctors… I can never play again.” You didn’t cry over it. Not any more, at least. It was all you did for a while. But now, you didn’t have any more tears to spare. Just a numb sense of grief.

Sometimes you hated how optimistic Oscar was for you. “They didn’t say that. They said it would take a while and with time there’s a possibility-“

“Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope.” You muttered, standing and walking away. Oscar followed after you with a small sigh.

You’d already wrapped yourself up in the covers, staring down the wall like it had just insulted you. “I’ve already started to come to terms with it. Don’t reverse that.” You mumbled.

Oscar didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he slipped into bed beside you, keeping to his side. The silence begged him to say something while he stared at your back to him. “That wasn’t my intention. I just hate seeing you so upset.” He spoke softly. His palm made contact with your back, and a warmth spread across your skin.

You turned over, wrapped an arm around him, and buried your head in his chest. “I know,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. You kissed his chest, right above his heart.

Oscar wanted to make your physiotherapy more enjoyable. You usually struggled during it, mentally and otherwise. His plan was to distract you from your own brain.

So while you did you worked on restrengthening your hamstring through lunges, he sat in front of you. The first time he pecked your lips, you didn’t think anything of it. But then it happened every time you stretched forward and you caught onto his game.

You shook your head. “You’re an idiot.” It wasn’t really an insult. It couldn’t have been, not when your face was lit up with a smile.

He hummed into another peck. “I’m really feeling the love.” He replied sarcastically.

Three more reps, three more pecks. “Okay, I’m done.” You declared, face inches from his.

“I think you still have another rep.”

“You know I don’t.” You replied, your voice low and your infatuated gaze studying every detail of his face.

He raised a brow. “How would you know? You’re not in my mind.”

“Maybe I am.” You shrugged.

“Then what am I thinking about right now?”

You bit your lip softly. “Me?” You guessed in a whisper.

A grin spread across his lips. “Oh, you’re good.”

Your lips closed in on his, brushing together. “You make it easy.” You connected your lips, and Oscar chuckled into the kiss.

You hadn’t stopped crying since you left the doctors. It was official. You’d never be able to play again. You thought you’d already come to terms with it. Turns out, your grip on that shred of hope was strong.

You were curled on the couch, a box of tissues on the end table to your left. “It’s not fair.” You hiccuped. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Oscar grabbed your hand from his spot on the floor in front of you. “Nothing. The world is just cruel.”

“I’ve worked so hard! My entire life since I was five! And for what? For nothing at all.” You sobbed harder.

Oscar, bless him, was doing everything he could to help ease the pain. “That’s not true. Look at all the medals you’ve earned, and you won the championship last year.” He gestured to the wall where all your medals hung.

Your sobs stopped. Just for a moment. Just to look at him in disbelief. And then you stood, crossed the room, and gathered all your trophies in your hands. He watched as you crossed the distance to the kitchen. You chucked all the medals in the garbage can. Without a word, you disappeared down the hall. The slam of your bedroom door filled the space moments later.

Yeah, probably not the best thing to say.

Oscar stood, his feet light as he padded over the kitchen. He dug your medals out of the garbage and rinsed them off in the sink. He found an old box to store them away in. Just incase there came a day in the future when you wanted them.

Then he called his mom.

“I don’t know what to do.” He confessed to her. “It’s killing me to see her so sad.”

The line was quiet for a moment. “Get a few of her comfort foods. Then just lay with her. Don’t say anything, just offer your presence.”

Truly, he would be helpless without his mother.

He knocked on the door to your shared bedroom. “Baby?” No answer. “I’m going to the store. I’ll be back soon.” He said. Still, silence on the other side. “Okay. I love you.” Again, nothing.

It was the same when he came back with his arms full of snacks. No answer after he knocked. “I’m coming in,” he warned and took a pause to wait for a protest. One never followed and he twisted the handle slowly, opened the door even slower. He stepped into the room as if expecting something to jump out at him. But it was only you, lying beneath the comfort of the white duvet.

Your eyes were open, but they stared blankly. Tracks of tears stained in lines down your cheeks. Your gaze panned slowly to Oscar, and your brows lifted the slightest bit when you caught sight of the snacks in his arms.

“Uh, I… I’m sorry for what I said.” He started, hesitant footsteps inching into the room. He paused. “I didn’t mean for it to upset you.”

You eyed him for a moment like you were analyzing his intentions. Then slowly, a hand slipped out from under the covers. You reached out to him and beckoned him over.

He stood in front of you, placed the snacks on the nightstand. He wasn’t sure what you wanted him to do. Your fingers, cold to the touch, curled around his hand. You gave it a soft tug. He got the memo and occupied the empty space beside you.

He remained hesitant to initiate anything, so he laid still like a statue.

You chuckled at that and curled into his side, manipulating his arms to hold you. You opened the bag of your favorite chocolates, unwrapped one and popped it in your mouth. You unwrapped another, and offered it to Oscar. He ate it despite knowing how Artturi would protest, but he’d never find out. Not like he would care if he did, not when you gave him that soft, loving smile of yours.

“Thank you.” You whispered, placing a small kiss on his cheek. You settled your head on his shoulder and played with his fingers. He could smell your shampoo. The smell of home.

“What for?” He asked.

“For understanding. For not getting mad at me when I get moody. For being you.” You paused. “I love you.” Spoke louder this time, bringing the back of his hand to your mouth and kissed it.

Oscar squeezed your hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He mimicked your previous actions, drawing your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “I love you, too.”

[astrosamara]

Astrology Observations #1

🩵Mars in Gemini and Virgo are very quick learners. They're at their best when they keep themselves busy with new and intellectually stimulating hobbies.

🩵Cancer placements in the big 3 have the most comforting and nurturing energy. These people are so easy to be around and it feels so easy to be yourself around them. I feel like people don’t give cancer placements enough credit for how good they are at making people feel loved.

🩵10th house moons are very loved and admired in their careers. I've noticed a lot of celebrities with this placement.

🩵Neptune in the 11th house can really idealize their friendships and groups and can end up being very deceived by them. Their friends can be very phony and not their true friends at all. 

🩵Leo and Libra in the big 3 makes someone a natural in the spotlight. Fame comes easily to them.

🩵Moon in Pisces or 12th house tend to have very strong connections to their dreams. They can even have epiphanies that help guide them in their life.

🩵In solar return charts, I've noticed that when the transit sun conjuncts the solar return chart ruler, a pivotal moment will happen for that year related to what planet it is. For example, my solar return ascendant in 2022 was in Sagittarius and when the sun made a conjunction with my solar return Jupiter, I received my associate's degree. My previous solar return ascendant in 2021 was in Libra, and when the sun made a conjunction with my solar return Venus, I developed a new long-term crush that inspired me to pursue a new passion. It can be fun to make a note of these dates every year to see what comes up.

🩵8th house synastry is no joke. These connections are incredibly intense and very hard to break free from. It can feel almost impossible to forget about this person. Very transformational as well.

🩵Harsh moon aspects are strong indicators of a wounded relationship with the mother. Pluto square the moon in particular is a very challenging placement for this matter. The mother could have instilled deep trauma and fear in you at an early age.

🩵Positive Mars and Venus aspects make someone incredibly charming. They're often easily liked and admired. I've noticed this the most with Mars sextile Venus.

🩵It's so important to pay attention to your moon sign/house/aspects to discover what you need to feel emotionally fulfilled. For example, I'm a Pisces moon and need to be creative and have a healthy amount of alone time daily to feel content.

🩵Personal Aries placements rapidly need new and passionate energy in their lives. It's so hard for them to stay in situations they're bored and uninspired in. Depending on other placements in the chart that can be more grounding, it's very hard for them to remain committed to a situation for a long time if it's not interesting.

🩵Idk if it's just because I have a Scorpio venus and stellium, but I find Scorpio moon and/or mars men to be so sexy.

🩵Pay attention to what themes come up in your life during your north node return, it can reveal a lot about what you're destined to do and what sort of life can be the most fulfilling for you.

[enchantedflameandflower]

billy teaching his girl how to smoke a cig would be so attractive

I feel like maybe they would go out to a bar or something and in like a tipsy confession she says “i’ve never smoked” or something like that ”idk how to smoke properly im always coughing its so embarrassing blah blah blah”

Need my man to guide me through it

Billy x you! Nsfw 18+ only for smoking, smut, piv, creampie, hint of exhibitionism

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask anon! Once I got the idea for the vibe it just took off. Hope you all enjoy!

~

It’s late, almost midnight, and you’re sitting up on the roof of your apartment building with Butcher and a cold bottle of beer each. The air is a little chilly but not bad and no one else seems to ever come up here so it’s nice. You’d met Butcher at the bar but it had been crowded and annoying so you’d invited him back to your place. 

The building seems to be mostly made up of elderly people but you love it. They’re kind and quiet and you love being able to help them when they need. The random baked goods you receive from time to time don’t hurt either. There’s one old lady specifically that Billy has charmed completely. He’s definitely got her wrapped around his little finger, that one. 

And you enjoy the quiet at night. You’re sitting cross-legged on a sort of concrete platform on top of the roof that’s at the perfect height. Billy is sitting next to you, his big booted feet planted on the ground of the roof.

You can’t help glancing over at him, and you know affection is shining in your eyes but you can’t help it and you don’t care. You’d started this sort of friends with benefits casual thing a couple months ago but you were falling for him hard and you knew it. Yeah, he was rough around the edges, really rough, but there was so much more to him and you had never cared what anyone else thought. 

And damn if he wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Tall, dark and brooding as fuck. 

“I thought you quit,” you murmur, nodding toward the cigarette he’s puffing lazily next to you. 

He smirks. “I did. Don’t know what ‘cher talkin’ ‘bout.” He takes another drag then holds it out toward you.

You pause for a second but then you take it between your fingers. “I always feel like I’m not doing it right…” you half joke. “And then I just cough.”

Billy looks at you. “All this time on planet ‘earf and ya don’t know how to smoke proper? It ain’t that hard, love…” He grins mischievously. “Just wrap those pretty lips ‘round and suck. But slowly, not too much. An’ let it out slow like, too.”

You nod, pursing your lips around the cigarette but Billy scoots closer immediately. 

“Not so tight, love, relax. Little more slack…ya know, like how ya move your lips when me cock’s slidin’ in.”

You’re immediately pulling the cigarette out of your mouth as your cheeks flush. “Butcher!” 

He just grins and inches back on the platform before he tugs on your wrist, pulling you to sit in his lap and guiding your hand back up. “Try again.”

You try not to think about how good his hard thighs feel beneath you and put the end of the cigarette up to your lips but let it rest there between the two instead of gripping it. You take a slow inhale in, and then slowly blow it out again, watching as the swirl of white smoke drifts gently away. 

Butcher squeezes your hip. “There ya are, doll, see?” he grins, his dimple showing and you know he’s thinking his metaphor is what made all the difference.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur, handing the cigarette back to him. 

Butcher takes a long drag, then after a moment lets go. The thick smoke curls out from his full lips and between the both of you as he exhales. There’s something so fucking sexy about the way he does it and the glimmer in his eyes as he catches you looking at him. He continues to exhale, the smoke kissing your mouth. You breathe it in, swearing you can taste him on it. 

Holding the cigarette up to your mouth again, Butcher watches as you pull lightly and his dark hazel eyes go even darker with heat.

The look makes you squirm in his lap and his big hand clenches your waist. “Ya keep that up and I’m gonna end up takin’ ya right here on this concrete,” he threatens - promises? - a low husk to his voice now. 

Yeah…the thought of that and his gruff tone make you wet for him immediately. It’s been a couple weeks since the last time you slept together and suddenly now you need him so much it hurts. 

He must be able to tell by the look on your face because the corner of his mouth lifts in a wicked smirk. “Ya like that idea, dontcha doll?” 

“Maybe…” you murmur and he tsks at you. He gives you the cigarette and you hold it up to your mouth again as his hand slips down between your thighs. Your leggings and your thin underwear do next to nothing to shield your already throbbing clit from his rough fingers.

He presses in firmly, rubbing his fingertips in a little circle, and his smile widens. “I can already tell, hot and slick for me, aren’t ya.”

Two can play this game, you think. Leaning forward, you bite his full lower lip and he growls, sliding his hand in your hair and tugging you close to capture your mouth fully with his. He tastes like cigarettes and beer and something uniquely him, masculine and rich.  

His tongue slides over yours, hot and possessive and it turns your insides to jelly, somehow making you want him even more when you thought you were already at the max. You moan into his kiss as his tongue strokes into your mouth. The sensation makes you shiver, your center throbbing for him, clenching around nothing. How you wish he was already buried inside you. Butcher holds you closer against him and only breaks the kiss when you push at his chest, gasping softly for air. 

His eyes are dark with need and his gaze is intense. His eyes flick to your lips and you know they must be swollen and pink from his kiss. Your breath is still coming in little pants but you panic a little under his steady stare.

“What?” you ask, a little scared of the answer, but the look in his eyes is making you think crazy stupid things that couldn’t possibly be real, you had to be dreaming…

“Ya don’t even know how bloody gorgeous you are, do ya?” he husks. 

“I - ” you swallow, your muddled brain trying to make sense of what he was saying. Fuck. His hand is still pressed between your thighs and you groan as he shifts you closer. The motion presses his thick knuckle right against your cunt.

“Fuck Billy…need you, please…” you gasp, wriggling against his hand, your eyes fluttering closed.

You don’t want to wait to go back downstairs, you don’t want to wait another second, you want him right here, right now out in the open air, all of his teasing way too much to bear. You’ll beg for it if you have to.

But you don’t. 

Billy is moving the instant you stop speaking. He lets go of you to strip his battered old coat off and you squeak, throwing your arms around his neck, the cigarette still between your fingers, to keep from getting dumped right off his lap.

He tosses his coat on the cement next to you then reaches down to pull your shoes off, before standing and flipping you over to lay you down across his coat. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, smiling up at him from your prone position. The cement is still cold and hard beneath you and his coat, but you don’t care and you know you’ll appreciate the lack of cement burn in the morning. 

“Oi, when am I not?” he grins devilishly  and before you can answer he’s pulling your leggings down your long legs, and everything else with them, stripping you bare from the waist down.

He catches your gaze, then his big hand slides from your hip to your side, pushing your shirt up. He bends down to nip and bite at your stomach then drags his mouth over your skin, beard tickling and rubbing, until he reaches your breasts. You wiggle and arch to help him push your shirt and bra up the rest of the way under your arms until you’re naked from your tits down, spread out for him on the cement platform in the night air.

“You’re a fuckin’ sight, ain’t ya,” he rumbles, his eyes taking their fill of you as his rough hands smooth over your body and the chilled air licks at all your naked skin. “Think anyone can see?” He glances up to the right of you, at a taller building next to this one that clearly has lights in some of the windows. 

You whimper, squirming and closing your eyes. “Oh god…” you breathe. 

“Splayed out naked, out in the open here and practically beggin’ for me,” he hums.

“Billy,” you gasp. You aren’t sure if you want to just hurry up and get it over with or if you’re actually going to explode with pent up lust but either way you need him to fuck you now.

Billy seems to acquiesce and he palms your breast, tugging at your tight nipple with one hand while the other undoes his buckle and the button of his jeans. 

He takes the cigarette out of your hand and puts it back in his mouth, holding it with his teeth and taking another long puff as he unzips his jeans, pushing them just low enough on his hips so his thick cock can spring free. He flicks the cigarette aside on the cement then uses both hands to tug on your hips, pulling you to the edge. 

“Fuck…Billy,” you groan as he slots his swollen length against your slick cunt and presses your thighs further part then starts to push in. 

“Don’t need to tell me twice…” he rumbles. 

You stretch for him as he slides inside you, but he’s so big and you have to take a breath to relax enough to take him all the way. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans in a gruff voice, and he shifts to slip his thumb over your clit to help ease his way inside. 

The moment the tip of his thumb circles the slick, tight bud, pleasure bursts inside of you and he thrusts all the way in, filling you up. 

It’s so good. You cry out loud, then quickly lift your hand to cover your mouth and muffle the sound but Billy grabs your wrist, pulling your arm away. “N‘uh…need to hear ya, love. Need to know how much you need my cock…”

“Everyone will…hear…” you whimper as he thrusts inside you again. 

“Won’t know it’s you, doll. Let them listen. Let them hear how good my cock makes you feel…”

All you can do is moan as he thrusts again and then again, his fingers teasing at your stiff nipple and then your clit again, driving you mad, always knowing where to go next. But you need more, you need all of him. 

“Harder…please…Billy…” you moan, clenching around his cock as he buries it deep, gripping the edges of his coat with your fingers. 

“Tha’s my good girl,” Butcher growls, thrusting harder and picking up his speed, hitting that perfect spot inside of you over and over.

You’re crying out with each deep thrust now and you don’t care who hears. When you wrap your legs around his hips, he leans down and presses against you, catching your shoulders and holding on as he groans against the curve of your neck. You can feel the vibration from his chest just as he thrusts, hitting every nerve ending on the way. It makes you cry out loud again, desperate and wanton. The sound echoes off the brick walls, making you blush harder as the pleasure of it zings straight to your clit. Fuck why does it turn you on even more…and it’s so annoying how quiet he can be even when he’s making you crazy. 

After another moment though, all thought leaves your mind and all you know is how fucking good Billy feels as you balance on the knife edge of bliss. The base of his cock pushes right against your clit as he gives one last hard thrust and then starts to pulse deep inside of you. It’s more than enough to make you come too. You’re crying out his name before you can stop yourself in choked moans and gasps that can definitely be heard in the next building as your body shudders in overwhelming pleasure.

Butcher slumps against you as he finishes emptying himself in your body and you curl your arms around his neck, your cunt still fluttering around him as the waves of pleasure from your climax only slowly start to abate.

The cigarette lays forgotten going cold beside you as he finally pushes himself up and tucks his cock away. You can still feel his come leaking out of you, mixed with yours, warm and sticky on your thighs but you can’t even find the energy to cover yourself.

When he starts to slide your clothes back on for you, you make a little noise, tiredly protesting at the mess still between your legs, but he hums and shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that smirk he has with a glint in his hazel eyes. “Have to wait ‘til we get back down to your flat, love. You like it, dontcha? Feelin’ what ya made me do?” he adds, his voice still gruff and low with sex. 

You make a sound of resignation but it is kind of hot, his small possessive way of marking and claiming you. You’re his.

When he has your bottom half dressed again, he grabs your hand and tugs you up, helping you pull your bra and shirt back in to place. You feel completely boneless and blissed out, and you quirk your lips in a half smile as you look up at him. “Fuck Billy…” you whisper. 

He chuckles softly and pulls you close against his broad chest in a hug, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get ya back inside and practice some more with that pretty mouth o’ yours, love, eh? Need ya too much.”

~*~*~ Thanks again anon, hope you like! Also thanks to @butchersdarkbird for letting me chat about it, @shirley-girly for giving me the perfect idea for a line for Billy on her reblog of a previous post and @dwinchesterspie1967 for the idea of including extra of his devilish smirk ❤️

@jynx15 @kus-babygirl @weallhaveadestiny @karlurbanism

@dustie-faerie @violent-darkness @bohemianblasphemy

karl urban masterlist

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Perverted ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Osamu Dazai

... NOW PLAYING ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| Perverted by Elita ...

a/n: it has been so long i'm sorry for disappearing </3 I LOVE YOU ALL THANK U FOR CONTINUING TO SUPPORT ME, new and old followers ILY. SPECIAL THX TO @amo-bsd, @little-miss-chaoss, @starrs20 THEY R THE BEST. also idk if this fic is ur thing cuz its dark content so u dont have to read it but i tagged y'all bc everyone who comes across this post SHOULD FOLLOW U BC UR THE BEST

content: f! pm! reader. MDNI! dark content + nasty! knifeplay. knifeplay is consensual, BUT keep in mind that unequal power dynamics are still at play because dazai is an executive and f!reader is a subordinate. (aka if this were real life this is not consensual)

++ blowjob (incl. facefucking). degradation and name-calling ("slut"), praise and pet names (i actually used bella LOL). dazai is possessive. like he actually treats you like a possession KEEP THAT IN MIND B4 READING

Dazai has always been calculating and cruel. Perhaps it was one of the things that drew you to him the most, as twisted as it were, knowing that these bloodied hands could sometimes hold you so tenderly, and that you of all people were the one he chose to see him naked at the end of the night. You took some sort of pride in it, in the fact Port Mafia's youngest executive had chosen you as his personal plaything, out of all the women that could easily fall into his arms.

His room is dark, ceilings tall, his face shrouded by velvet curtains that cast a shadow over you like a gaping mouth. His desk is stacked with papers, neatly organized in a pile, but there are painkillers and used-up bandages sprawled across the floor beneath it. Dazai is in the corner, staring down disdainfully at the broken city that is Yokohama. He doesn't greet you when you enter. Rather, he looks down at you condescendingly. "You were reckless today. You're lucky Akutagawa was there to save you, or you would have been killed."

"I'm sorry," is all you can say. As his subordinate and, for lack of a better term, his lover, you never know which Dazai you're about to face. Your apology is well-received, a grin forming on his lips as you bow your head. You're always so quick to submit to him. He's used to it, being an executive and all, but it feels especially good coming from you.

"Yeah?" His voice is a low hum now, seductive and rogue. He comes closer, then you feel his thumb graze your chin, then he forces you to gaze into the empty void of his dark eyes. You stare, captured by the intense nothingness behind them that threatens to swallow you whole, gulping as you realize that in those moments of enchantment, those slender fingers of his have crawled along the sides of your neck. He leans in, and you can feel his lips tracing along your collarbone. "How are you gonna make it up to me?"

Your knees are weak; you're always falling right into his hands this way. He guides you to the dresser, hands on your hips, then presses his body against yours from behind, fingers toying with the hem of your blouse. "How about I kill you right here, myself?" you hear him whisper in your ear, breath warm against your skin. Then, you feel cold metal pressed against your neck. "Would you let me do that to you?"

You catch a glimpse of silver, gleaming with the reflection of the city lights as Dazai runs a blade along a vein.

Trusting a man like Dazai can be such a fatal flaw – ...

... but he must be using the dull edge for a reason... right?

"I would let you do anything to me," you reply. You hear him sigh, almost disappointed by your courteous response. He lets go of you immediately and scoffs, tucking the knife back into his pocket.

"You always know what to say," he mutters, as if irritated by your predictability – but you know that it means he's pleased. You’re loyal to him. You always have been.

Then, as if on cue, you turn to face him, getting on your knees in front of him.

"Oh," he muses, entertained. "So, you're gonna use your pretty mouth to make it up to me instead?"

– but of course.

You're eager to please him, hands fumbling for the zipper of his slacks. He grins at how desperate you seem to touch him, petting your head as you bury your face into his hardness. You trace him through his boxers, marvel at the way it grows with your touch. This is the way you command him – the way you bring to his knees while you're on yours. You feel him shudder as your lips caress him, feel wetness seep through his boxers against your cheek as you mold against him.

In this moment, the most dangerous man in Yokohama is yours and yours alone.

"Get on with it," he mumbles lazily, stroking your cheek gently. You're staring up at him admiringly, watching the way his breath catches in his throat as you tease him.

He's gorgeous when he’s weak for you, gazing back down at you with half-lidded eyes, waiting on you to make him feel something. He's the desperate one now, you think to yourself. It’s as if he’s begging,

'Give it to me.'

You'll give it to him – you'll give it to him over and over.

Maybe it's perverted, but it makes you feel good inside, knowing you're needed by him like this.

So, you strip him slowly, kissing along his firm abdomen and thighs as you peel the boxers down his legs. He's impatient, hands trembling as you reach for him and run your fingers slowly along his length. His reactions are all the praise you need – he sighs softly into your touch when you finally wet the tip with your tongue, then you feel him fade into you. You taste the salt that drips so bitterly on your lips, swirl the precum in your mouth and let it melt against your saliva. "You're good at that," he whispers, and you feel yourself grow wet between the legs at his words.

Then, you take him. Slowly, at first – stroking him with your pretty hands while you lick the vein that runs along the underside, then slide him down your throat. You feel his grip tighten on your hair, then hear him make a stifled sound. When you look up, he's staring down at you in amazement, lips parted so slightly as you do your best not to choke on him... If only he looked at you like this all the time, you can't help but think to yourself shamefully.

It's too cruel to continue these sort of thoughts, so you force yourself to take him deeper... You shove him into your mouth until your vision blurs, until you gag on him, until saliva dribbles down your chin. He matches your pace, burying himself into your throat until you choke on his length, until you're tearing up and your vision is blurred. Then, you hear him laugh condescendingly. "This why you were so reckless today?" he asks you roughly, eyes darkening as he peers down at you. His fingers ravage your hair, his nails digging into your scalp as he pushes your head down. "You like it just like this, don't you?"

And maybe he’s right – he has you throwing your life away in this wretched mafia… and for what? He has you following him around like a dog… and to what end?

When you're forced to look up at him with your mouth stuffed full of him, it's almost as if there's no trace of a humanity left in him. There’s nothing in those wild eyes, scornful and resenting. There's some twisted grin on his face, something sadistic and perverse you've only seen a few times before, in the moments before he’s stolen someone’s life. "You act so fucking innocent, but look at you taking me like a damn slut. Do you do this for the others? Tell me..."

You can hardly breathe now, cheeks swollen and red, jaw aching, but you know he expects a response, so you shake your head frantically. No, of course not, you'd never give it to anyone else but him. Never, ever – but he doesn't relent, looking down at you demeaningly with that same sick look on his face. "Yeah? I've seen the way you look at Chūya. You wanna fuck him too, don't you?"

This time, when you open your eyes, the knife is right against your throat – the sharp edge almost tracing along your skin. Would you bleed for this man? Would you die for this man? Wouldn’t he like to know…

You shake your head as if to say, 'Only you... only ever you.' Then, you claw at his legs, pushing him away to tell him enough...

– and he withdraws immediately, shoving you off of him and leaving you coughing and gasping for air on the cold, wooden floor. "I would have killed you if you said yes, you know," he says, point blank. "You're mine alone."

This time, you're not quite sure if he means what he says – or what he means as laughs mirthlessly as you pull yourself together. But in a playful tone, he adds, "But of course, I knew from the start that you'd say no."

Then, you feel it –

His embrace. Gentle. Endearing. Fond.

His soft, tangled bangs fall against your shoulder as he pulls you into his chest.

It’s like he’s become a different person again.

“Come here, my precious Bella," you hear him murmur into your shoulder, tracing a delicate finger along your back as he presses his lips to your spine, and your heart stills.

"Let me draw you a bath."

For a man so cold, his body feels surprisingly warm.

author ps: ANY BDSM should have CLEAR communicated boundaries (established beforehand) and during AND include AFTERCARE. the aftercare was not written (it would be the bath, basically). if you are new to BDSM or considering BSDM please be INFORMED and do not use fanfic and dark content as a basis for it

© BSDAWGZ Don’t steal or plaigarize cos that’s mean… and if you enjoyed the fic, please reblog! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[star-girl69]

Can’t Help Myself

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: nights out are supposed to be fun, but when someone mistakes you for being single, caroline can’t help herself.

a/n: GUYS IM BACK!!!!! also i love you alexandra savior… anyways from this ask, i hope you all enjoy!!

Can’t Help Myself - Alexandra Savior

warnings: alcohol obviously, lots of it, swearing, violence, mentions of blood and such, ummm idk i don’t want to give too much away 😣😣 that’s pretty much it tho, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The last time you went to a bar you were sneaking in with a fake ID.

You were 20, so close to that precious age of 21, a freshman in college and itching for that movie like experience you had grown up seeing. After a friend of a friend hooked you up, you got so drunk you swear you started seeing stars, but those might have just been the checkerboard black and white tiles on the bathroom floor.

Memories of that cold tile on your knees hit you every time you thought about going out and, besides- your major didn’t allow for much partying. A fact your friends and girlfriend all detested- but you refused to get behind on classwork just to end up on the bathroom floor again.

But, here you are. Holding onto your girlfriend, Caroline’s hand as she guides you through the crowds of people and towards the bar. You look around warily- is it just you or is there too many people in this building? Are they seriously not breaking some sort of fire code?

Caroline had asked so nicely- and by that, literally got on her knees and begged you- you were all caught up on school and had no homework, she had just won the NCAA championship and was on a high- plus you had a three day weekend.

Really, there wasn’t any excuse you could use.

Maybe, if you really wanted to, you could have said you were too nervous, and Caroline would have stayed home with you immediately at the first sign of you being anything other than happy. But, you knew she wanted to celebrate with her team. And why wouldn’t she? She worked hard for this, scoring 3 goals during the entire Frozen Four tournament.

Caroline suddenly squeezes your hand before pulling you towards her, arm moving around your waist.

“You good, baby?” She asks, looking around the bar for the collection of red jerseys.

“There’s a lot of people,” you say, hesitantly. You don’t want to lie to her, but you don’t want her to take you home. You know she will. Not yet, at least. “I need a drink.”

She laughs and kisses your cheek, and your stomach twists at the sound of her contagious laugh- you find yourself smiling too. “I’ll get you one, then.”

She immediately makes a detour towards the bar, and you press your hip into the counter while she wraps her arm around you, standing next to you so closely you probably look like one person in your matching Harvey jerseys.

“What’d you want?” She asks, her breath tickling the side of your neck. God, it’s loud in here, too.

You stare at her blankly for a second before shrugging. “I dunno, you’re the one who actually drinks.”

She smiles. “Okay, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

The bartender asks what she wants, and you block out what she says- kind of wanting to be surprised. Next thing you know, she’s saying thank you and putting some money on the counter, telling the bartender to keep the change before turning to you, two glasses in her hand.

And, suddenly, despite the uneasy feeling in your stomach and the fact that this place is so bright and so loud, she looks into your eyes and it’s suddenly just the two of you.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispers.

“Of course, baby,” you smile. “You deserve to celebrate. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine. I want you to have fun.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m always gonna worry about you, babe.”

“If I really want to leave, I’ll just grab your hand and squeeze two times.”

“You better not lie to me, though. Are you sure you’re still good?”

You kiss her nose. “All good. Let me have some of that drink now?”

She smiles, and you shouldn’t be surprised by the way she completely bypasses your open hands and lifts the drink to your lips herself, watching intently at the way your lips part around the small black straw, then at the way your cheeks slightly hollow.

It’s… disgusting, really. The drink, at least. Having Caroline look at you like this, pupils wide and bottom lip now drawn between her teeth, is absolutely exhilarating. All you’re doing is taking a sip of her drink and she’s acting like you’re doing the sexiest thing in the world right in front of her.

It’s slightly fruity, and there’s vodka in it, and maybe some soda? It’s disgusting. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t want to know. You continue to force it down, managing to down almost half of the glass before Caroline snaps back into reality, ripping the drink away from you.

“Okay, slow down, please,” she chuckles.

You gag a bit, shaking your head. “That’s disgusting. Ugh, I hated that.”

“I can get you something else?” She asks, frowning. You almost chuckle at how concerned she is. “Or just water?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “I’m just trying to chug it as fast as I can.” You try to grab the drink from her again, but she holds it back.

“Okay,” she smiles. “You can… do that, I guess. If you really want to, but in a few minutes. Take it easy, yeah, baby?”

“Okay,” you echo, feeling your stomach twist at the way she’s so knowledgeable in this, the way she’s looking out for you-

“Good girl,” she smiles, kissing your cheek before wrapping her arm tightly around your waist again and leading you through the crowd.

She has to know what she does to you.

You look at her out of the corner of your eye- satisfied smirk on her face- oh. She’s trying to kill you.

Fine, you tell yourself. She’s acting all cool as if she wouldn’t be leaving this bar if you squeezed her hand twice. She’ll do whatever you want, you both know that, but if she’s gonna try to rile you up in the middle of the bar by saying that- well, two can play at that game.

She leads you towards the other side of the bar, where you find a huge booth filled with red jerseys, half-full glasses strewn about the table.

Laila’s phone is propped up against one of those glasses, and she stares intensely at the screen in a way you call tell she’s reading comments on live.

“Laila!” KK calls, loosening your grip on you as the floor opens up a bit.

She smiles when she sees the two of you, beckoning you over. She’s sitting at the end of the circular booth, so you let go of KK to give her a quick hug. Wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing your cheek to hers to say hi to the live.

“Hi, guys!” You smile, watching as a flood of comments come in, all of them saying hi, or complimenting you. “Aw, thanks everyone. You’re all so sweet.”

“Guys,” Laila says, “Do you see this right now?”

She plucks at your red jersey.

“She’s a liar. She does not play for the Wisconsin Badgers! And her last name is not Harvey, either!”

KK suddenly appears next to you, pushing her face into frame.

“One day, though.”

user-1 omg they’re so adorable

user-2 Y/N I CANT BELIEVE YOU STOLE MY GF

user-3 tbh she’s beautiful i cant be mad

user-4 y/n harvey has a ring to it tbh…

user-5 NO DONT GET MARRIED KK COME HOME

user-6 @/user-5 KK THE KIDS MISS YOU

“I’ll believe that when I see a ring,” you tease.

“God, nothing ever pleases you.”

“Can you not?” Laila groans, fake gagging.

user-7 aw poor laila third wheeling

Laila scoots over and you sit down next to her, allowing Caroline to press a kiss to your cheek, saying she’ll be back soon.

user-8 y/n fit check pls??

“Y/N do a fit check!” Laila shouts, not quite aware of her volume level. You take another sip of your drink, gagging yet again.

“Okay. I don’t feel like getting up, though. Um, top is from Caroline Harvey’s closet, bottoms are from, like, Old Navy I think. I dunno, they’re just jeans. And then I’ve had these shoes for years, so…”

Laila turns to you, bored look on her face.

“Y/N, you’re not very good at this.”

“Girl, whatever. I tried.”

user-9 y/n ur so real

user-10 i would die for you y/n

user-11 what method of manifestation did you use?

“My method of manifestation? Listened to Bags by Clairo on repeat, of course.”

user-12 Y/N CLARIO STAN CONFIRMED????

user-13 u are my new fav celebrity.

user-14 what are you guys drinking?!?!??!!?

“What are we drinking?” Laila repeats. “Um, I don’t know if we can say this. Take a wild guess, though.”

“I don’t even know what this is,” you laugh, picking up your glass and swirling it around, listening to the ice clink. “Caroline ordered it for me.”

You take a deep breath- moving out of the screen- abandoning the straw and placing your lips right on the rim, downing the rest of the glass.

user-15 GOD THEYRE SO ADORABLE

user-16 i’m still in mourning…

user-17 the day they hard launched a part of me died

user-18 IF Y’ALL DONT SHUT UP YOU NEVER HAD A CHANCE ANYWAYS

user-19 @/user-18 EXACTLY if i see ANYONE bullying my queen y/n i will attack

“Aw, thank you guys,” you coo. “I’m so sorry that I took your girlfriend, really.”

user-20 GOOD

user-21 YOU SHOULD BE.

user-22 pls tell kk to pay child support

“Okay, so, guys, you didn’t hear this from me but unfortunately KK is actually in debt from all of the child support payments, so you might want to find some other income.”

Laila, who had zoned out reading the comments next to you, laughs so hard she has to take herself out of frame.

“No, because KK actually is so broke right now.” She says, coming back into frame, her eyes so wide she looks like a crazy person.

user-23 y/n pls take laila home 😭

user-24 laila ily pls stop drinking

Laila gasps, dropping her jaw in shock.

“I’m literally not even that… D-R-U-N-K!”

“Laila,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “Maybe it’s time to let the live go.”

“Yeah, I wanna dance. Okay, bye, guys. Sorry for tripping out. I love you all, see you guys soon.”

You blow a few kissy faces at the screen. “Love you guys!”

The live ends and Laila immediately perks up, looking towards the dance floor. “Okay, move!” She says, trying to push you out of the booth. You scramble away, chuckling at how disoriented she is.

“Sure you wanna dance? Your 6’1 self might fall over and kill someone.”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Dancing does sound nice. You need to let go a bit, and where better to do it then in the middle of a bunch of people so drunk they won’t remember this tomorrow?

Laila grabs your hand, despite the fact she just told you to shut up, and starts to drag you into the crowd of dancing people. The music seems louder, now.

“Y/N!”

Someone grabs your other hand, pulling you and Laila to a stop. KK stands there, concern on her face and her drink back in her hand.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“To dance,” you roll your eyes. Maybe you’re kind of a lightweight, but you already feel a little tipsy. That might be a placebo effect, though. This place just feels so freeing, with all the pretty lights and the music that you swear is getting louder by the second.

You grab her drink, taking another big sip.

Her eyes widen and Laila groans, tugging on you.

“I wanna danceeee.”

KK looks between you, drunk Laila, and the crowded dance floor.

“Y/N,” she grimaces. You take another sip.

“I wanna dance, KK. Don’t be a… freakin’ party pooper.”

She blinks at you. “Oh, my God, you are such a lightweight.”

“Okay, can you relax? Overprotective? Your precious girlfriend will be fine,” Laila smiles, flexing her bicep.

“See?!” You smile, gesturing animatedly to Laila before taking another sip.

She grabs her drink back from you. “All done with that.”

“Aw,” you pout.

Caroline sighs, looking again at the dance floor like it’s some entity that’s gonna hurt you.

“Baby,” you start, wrapping your free arm around her neck and drawing her in close to you, burying your face into the side of her neck.

“Y/N.”

You kiss her neck, tongue darting out to swipe across her sweet skin. “Please let me dance, Caroline.”

There’s a breathy lilt to your voice you both know she can’t resist. This is how you win every argument, just bury your face in her neck and ask pretty please.

“Shit, Y/N,” she says, her voice strained. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, kissing her neck again.

She puts her free hand on the back of your head, smoothing down your hair for one second, savoring the moment before she pulls you away.

“Can I go dance?” You ask, barely licking your lips- but she sees it.

She sighs and rubs the back of her neck.

You both know she can’t resist you, not right now. Especially not when you’re wearing her last name and you’re kissing her neck.

“Be safe.”

“Bye! Love you!” you shout, tugging on Laila. She drops the hand that was covering her eyes and smiles.

“Thank God that’s over.”

You turn to look back at Caroline, and she’s staring after you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. You’ve never thought that Caroline’s overprotective nature was too much. You’ve never shied away from it. How could you hide away from something that feels so perfect? So good? So right?

Belonging to her is the most fulfilling thing you’ve ever known- you can’t help yourself from loving every crazy part of her.

And, besides, she deserves to spend time with her friends. She deserves to celebrate her win in whatever way she wants. You’re kind of surprised that she didn’t follow you out onto the dance floor, but you’re happy about that. She needs her friends and you need yours.

The music gets so loud you swear your eardrums are about to burst.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

—-

After dancing with Laila for so long your legs feel like they’re about to fall off, they start playing a slightly slower, more sexual song. Couples quickly form on the dance floor- whether it be actual couples or just random people deciding to dance together.

Laila hits your shoulder, and subtlety points to a man wearing the ugliest neon yellow jacket. Maybe it’s not so bad on its own, but paired with an equally neon orange shirt underneath, he looks kind of like a traffic cone.

You laugh, but this new song has changed the vibe, and suddenly you wish your girlfriend was dancing with you.

“I want Caroline,” you say to yourself, spinning around, trying to find where the red jerseys are- quickly getting dizzy. Definitely a little drunk.

“Who would have guessed,” Laila deadpans, and you swat her shoulder while she laughs.

You suddenly feel eyes on you, but Laila is searching the crowd. You look around, suddenly locking eyes with a man dressed in black dress pants and a blue shirt- the top buttons open.

The first thing you notice about him is how startlingly pale he is. You actually kind of get the shivers- he’s deathly skinny, with a goatee he cannot pull off- and he kinda makes you feel uneasy.

Besides for his somewhat startling appearance, he licks his lips as he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat.

“Ugh,” you say, cringing, unable to hide the disgust on your face. You feel kinda bad when his face falls- maybe he’s just drunk like you. Yet, here you are, criticizing his appearance and gagging at him. You shoot him an awkward smile, and his eyes trail up your body- okay. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt, whatever. “Help,” you whisper to Laila, somewhat jokingly, grabbing her hand.

“Huh?” She asks, grabbing back and looking around.

“Really pale weird guy staring at me like he wants to fuck me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Y/N. That’s fuckin’ disgusting, don’t tell me that.”

“Sorry!” You laugh, watching her eyes widen as she seems to finally spot him.

“Oh, wow… he’s so handsome! When my eyes are closed.”

You laugh and quickly slap your hand over your mouth, turning to her to keep from him seeing you.

“He’s still staring, though,” she frowns. “Okay, this dude is actually so creepy- I’m done dancing, you too?”

You suddenly remember how much you miss Caroline.

“Yeah, all done. Miss my girlfriend.”

“Y’all are so clingy, God… anyways, where did we come from?”

“Um, there, I think.” You start leading her through the crowd, immediately forgetting about the man, thinking only about your beautiful girlfriend and how excited you are to see her again. Forgetting the fact that’s only been about 20 minutes.

Suddenly, a flash of blue appears in front of you and you’re slamming into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” You apologize, steadying yourself by grabbing onto Laila. “You okay?”

You’re met with a pale face and a goatee.

Your eyes widen but you manage to bite your tongue, Laila squeezing your hand so tightly it might snap off.

“All good, pretty girl. You okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” You manage to bite out, Laila’s resolve slowly falling as she starts laughing a bit, and you try desperately to pull her away.

“Hey,” the guy starts, but you pretend not to hear him and tug Laila past him. You can’t bear to look behind yourself, scolding Laila softly as she starts boisterously laughing.

“Oh, my God- you bumped into him!”

“Laila!”

This entire night has felt perfect so far, and it feels kinda picturesque that a super cliche movie thing happened to you. All you can do is laugh about it.

“What’cha laughing about?” Caroline asks, and you suddenly realize you’ve escaped the dance floor and made it back to her.

“KK!” You smile, wrapping your arms around her neck and pressing a short kiss to her lips. She smiles back at you, looking at you in a way that can only be described as adoringly.

“Okay, bye,” Laila says, jokingly covering her eyes as she walks away to talk with some other teammates.

Caroline rolls her eyes at Laila but wraps her arm loosely around your waist, just keeping you close to her. “You’re having fun, baby.”

“So much, this is great. Why don’t I go out more? Why don’t I drink more? Oh, can I have that?”

Caroline stares down at her drink that you’ve already drunk most of-

“C’mon, sweetheart, I’ll get you another one.”

“Okay!” You smile, feeling on top of the world with her arm around you again. She leads you around the outskirts of the dance floor, and you end up back at the bar- leaning against her while she orders.

You’re standing side by side, and she’s dropped the hand around your waist to pull out cash from her wallet. You miss her touch, so you lean your head against her shoulder, adjusting her jersey that’s started slipping down your shoulder.

“Can I buy a drink for the pretty girl and her friend?”

At first, you don’t even realize someone’s talking to you.

You hear about it in the movies, the creepy guys at bars. You hear the horror stories from your friends and family. And you know it’s real, you know it happens- but you never ever think it could happen to you.

Suddenly, there’s that same pale man right next to you, staring into your eyes with such and intensity you wonder if he has a medical condition or if this is some weird attempt at flirting.

“What?”

Its the only thing you can think to blurt out.

Caroline looks up from her wallet, stuffing it back into her pocket and turning to you, hearing your voice but confused as to what you’re talking about.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The guy repeats in a hopeful tone- but the way he carries himself irks you. He’s self-entitled. It’s not quite confidence, but it’s more so this idea that the entire world should bow at his feet. And, unfortunately, that includes you.

“Excuse me?” Caroline asks, quickly wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you even closer. “Thanks, but she doesn’t want anything from you.”

“Really?” He asks, smiling in that same self-entitled way. “C’mon, honey. You’re gorgeous, I’m gorgeous, let me buy you a drink and take you home.”

You feel utterly frozen. Is this actually happening? Are there cameras somewhere?

“Uhhhh…” you say, looking between him and Caroline- the two of them currently engaged in a deadly staring competition.

“Sorry, let me rephrase. My girlfriend doesn’t want anything from you.”

“Caroline,” you mutter, hearing an edge to her voice that’s turning from protective and wary to something a little more… violent. “Let’s just go, babe.”

“Yeah, let’s just go,” she echoes. She turns around with you still under her arm, positioning herself between you and the other guy.

He scoffs as you both turn around- completely offended and shocked at the idea that you don’t want him.

Maybe Caroline glaring at him sets him off. Maybe he just doesn’t know when to quit.

“C’mon, baby- you know you want it. Stop being a little bitch.”

Your mouth parts slightly- and you almost want to laugh- him? Calling you a bitch?

You can feel Caroline’s entire body tense against you.

“Caroline-” you start, knowing her protective nature is going to get to her. You’ve seen it a thousand times on the ice when a girl on the other team gets too close to her goalie, or roughs up another Badger- Caroline fights on the ice.

God, you’ve even confessed to her how sexy you think it is when she suddenly shoulder checks some girl, or slams her stick into someone’s chest.

She whips around, her arm out in front of you, while the arm that was previously around your shoulder whips around and slams into his face.

You let out a yelp at the sheer speed of it all- one second you were walking away, and now Caroline is shaking out her hand as the man doubles over, clutching his jaw.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” He shouts, a crowd quickly forming.

Thankfully, she ignores that comment.

“Listen to me. You don’t touch my girl, you don’t look at her, you don’t think about her- or I swear to God you will not be able to fuckin’ talk.”

She turns back around, her jaw clenched, and you gape at her- mouth opening and closing like a fish, you feel so stupid- but you don’t even know what to say. Do you scold her? Do you kiss her? Because you kinda want to do both right now.

Your mind is literal mush. Not only was that the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life- but also terrifying. Thankfully, you don’t have to do anything, because Laila and a few other Badgers break through the crowd, grabbing KK and dragging her back towards the exit.

Laila softly taps you, and you tear your eyes away from the fuming man still clutching his cheek- mouth still stupidly dropped open.

“You good?” Laila asks, softly putting her hand on your shoulder.

“Good,” you breathe. “Oh, my God- I can’t believe that just happened.” Laila leads you out of the bar, following behind KK who is getting… forcefully escorted out by her teammates.

The whispers and the staring stops when you exit the bar and into the fresh air. It’s nice out here, still warm but there’s a cool breeze running through. The bar was stuffy and hot, and you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until the fresh air is right in your face.

“Okay.” Britta Curl, Wisconsin’s captain sighs heavily, rubbing her temples. “What the fuck happened.”

It’s not quite a question.

KK’s teammates let her go, and her jaw is clenched, fists also clenched at her sides. She’s like a tight little ball of anger right now, about to explode.

She’s obviously not going to answer, so Britta turns to you. Her frustration softens a bit, and you’re sure you look a little shaken up- you can’t stop thinking: what if Caroline wasn’t there?

What if he got his hands on you? What if he had stepped closer?

“You okay, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you breathe. All of the team knows you well, and most of them are truly your friends. Despite the fact it’s become a running joke to refer to you as “KK Harvey’s Girlfriend” you know they all do care about you. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Shit, Y/N,” KK breathes, running her hand through her hair. It’s nothing like earlier tonight when she said those words, when you were kissing your neck.

God, if you could go back to that.

She takes a few deep breaths. “Shit. I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I just couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t let him say that shit. Call you that, fuck.”

You can practically see the memories flash behind her eyes, and she’s getting herself all worked up again.

“Harvey,” Britta cautions, putting her hand on her shoulder. “Take some breaths.”

“Okay, hold on,” Laila starts. “Was that who I think it was? Pale guy from the dance floor?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, and Laila rolls her eyes.

“What a creep.”

“Wait, who?” KK asks, suddenly completely still, staring at Laila in a way that reminds you of a predator about to attack. She’s still got that rage in her veins, and she’s chasing the high, the retribution.

“There was this guy on the dance floor, he was staring at Y/N in this, like, sexual assault-y way, super creepy-”

“A what way?”

Her voice is calm. But you know her, you know her voice- you can hear the pure rage behind it. That deadliness, all of that precision and strength from hockey honed to one target.

“Okay,” Laila says, sticking her palms out in a calming manner. “Not the best choice of words. Deep breaths, KK.”

“No, like what? He was staring at my girlfriend like what?”

“Caroline.”

You walk towards her, placing your hands on her chest.

“Caroline, sweetheart, I love you… but you have to calm down, okay? He was just a fucking weirdo at a bar. And you punched him, remember? He’s not going to talk to another girl, let alone me, for a long time.”

You force her to meet her eyes, and she stares at you for a few seconds- her face slowly starting to soften.

“Sorry,” she mumbles after a moment.

“Why do we even try?” One of her teammates whispers. You resist the urge to smile.

“Why don’t we go home, K?”

She looks over your shoulder at the door to the bar.

“Yeah.”

“Thank God,” Laila mutters. “This was about to become a bloodbath. Everyone say ‘thank you, Y/N.’”

A few of her teammates laugh, and even KK cracks a small smile as they all repeat the sentiment.

Britta turns to KK, glaring at her still somewhat disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry,” KK mutters again.

Britta sighs. “I… probably would have punched him too if I was there. I can’t blame you.”

“Exactly, like? What was I supposed to do? He called my girl a bitch and I was supposed to just walk away? Nah. No way.”

“Overprotective!” Laila chimes in with a sing-song voice, and all of you laugh.

Finally, you all manage to bid your goodbyes, Laila saying she’ll hitch a ride back from someone else- “I don’t want to hear what’s about to go on in that bedroom. Keep the biohazards to a minimum, though.”

Caroline opens the car door for you, moving around to the other side and quickly climbing in. She puts her hand on the inside of your thigh, not starting the car yet, and making no move to.

She hesitates for a moment.

“Did I scare you?” She finally asks, turning to you with such vulnerability etched into her face it fixes any part of your heart that had ever hurt.

You smile softly, because you love this girl and you can’t believe she cares about you this much.

“No, baby.” You put your hand on her face and she leans towards you. “I was scared… because I kept thinking about what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight at a bar again. Or ever, actually. Would you be down to tattoo Property of Caroline Harvey on your chest?”

“Caroline.”

“I love you.” You smile, the joking scold dying on your tongue. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You fake gasp. “I cant believe you’re all mine. Caroline Harvey, Olympian, star-athlete, heartthrob of women’s hockey-”

She shuts you up with a kiss. You’re both smiling into it, your thumbs rubbing her check, her hand squeezing your thigh and her other hand coming up to lightly hold the base of your neck.

When you finally have to pull away for that stupid thing called breathing, you grab her hand and squeeze twice. She quirks her brow at you before realization washes over her face.

“Well, when my beautiful girl says it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”

She doesn’t move her hand from your thigh the entire drive. And despite Caroline being a little hot headed and a little overprotective, it’s just her way of showing you she loves you- you can’t think of it any other way.

There’s no one else in the world who would succumb to whatever you want just because you kissed their neck, no one else who you would feel confident completely placing your trust in, no one else who can love you the way she loves you.

And if tonight is any indication- she loves you to the point of violence. Which is kind of alarming, but mostly sweet.

—-

[dearlenore]

A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO LOVING YOU • S.REID

SUMMARY: after Spencer attends his first support group meeting, he discovers an odd girl who recently relapsed after using the same drug he did. Weirdly enough, he sticks around to see her reckless behavior

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: fluff and sort of angst mentions , reader wears gn clothes, mentions of drug use and addiction, rushed relationship (breaking thirteenth step sort of), Spencer is down bad, reader is sort of manic pixie dream girl coded… (not in a senorita awesome way.) y/n usage

a/n: I’m BEYOND excited to post this one I’ve been working on it for a little while tho🥹 idk why it wasn’t turning out how I wanted

w/c: 1.8K

The first time you met Spencer you were shaking.

Your fingers trembled against the Styrofoam cup of stale coffee, barely steady enough to keep it from spilling over the edge. You’d picked a chair in the corner, shrinking into yourself like you could disappear into the peeling wallpaper.

You hadn’t wanted to come to the meeting — your chest still ached from the hollow pit your fiancé had left behind, and your mind buzzed from the remnants of a mistake you’d sworn you wouldn’t make again.

But here you were.

The meeting droned on in the background — voices blending together — until you heard him.

“I’m Spencer,” he said softly. “And I used to have a problem with Dilaudid.”

That word hit you like a slap. Your fingers clenched tighter around your cup.

He spoke quietly, like he didn’t want to take up space. But there was a weight to his words — the kind that only came from someone who knew what it was like to fall.

“I’ve been clean for a while,” he continued. “But… I’ve been thinking about it more than I should lately.” His voice faltered. “I know where that road leads, and I don’t want to go back.”

You watched him carefully, something about his honesty anchoring you in place. He didn’t look like someone who’d ever touched a needle — not with his too-big sweater sleeves pulled halfway over his hands and his fingers twitching nervously in his lap.

But you knew better than anyone — addiction didn’t care what you looked like.

When the meeting ended, you didn’t plan to talk to him. But somehow, your feet carried you toward him before you could change your mind.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He blinked, surprised to see you. “Hey.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you offered. “I relapsed…recently…”

His eyes softened, and you knew he understood.

—

You hadn’t expected Spencer to stick around after that. People came and went in these meetings — some stayed clean, some didn’t. You figured he’d just become another face in the circle.

But a few days later, he called.

At first, your conversations were cautious — two people afraid to say the wrong thing. He’d show up on his day off, coffee in hand, and the two of you would sit in a park or walk through quiet streets. He talked about work sometimes — something about profiling and the FBI — but mostly, you just talked about life.

It felt… easy. Like maybe you weren’t as broken as you thought.

But the longer Spencer knew you, the more he realized that ‘easy’ wasn’t exactly how you lived your life.

—

The first time he caught you being… you, it nearly gave him a heart attack.

“Y/N!” he shouted from across the street, watching in horror as you sprinted down a graffiti-covered alley — sneakers barely touching the pavement before you leapt and caught hold of a low-hanging fire escape ladder.

“What are you doing?” Spencer demanded when he caught up to you.

“I forgot my sketchbook!” you called down, halfway up the ladder already.

“You can’t just climb things!” he scolded, voice breathless.

“I climb things all the time!” you shot back.

“That’s not comforting!”

Moments later, you hopped back down, landing with an exaggerated flourish and holding up your prized notebook. “See? Safe and sound.”

Spencer stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Relax,” you teased, nudging his arm as you walked past him. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough,” he muttered.

But despite himself, he smiled.

—

It became a pattern after that — Spencer watching helplessly as you danced dangerously close to chaos.

He found you sitting barefoot on a bridge railing once, legs swinging as you tossed bits of bread to ducks below.

“You know you’re, like… one strong gust of wind away from falling in, right?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, smiling as the ducks squabbled over the crumbs. “But I’ve always been a pretty good swimmer.”

Or the time you convinced him to sneak into a rooftop party — not for the drinks, but because you “just had to see the view.”

“What if we get caught?” Spencer whispered as you tugged him through the back stairwell.

“Then we run,” you grinned.

“I’m not good at running!”

“Good thing I am.”

Moments like those made Spencer’s heart race for all the wrong reasons. But somehow, despite the stress you caused him, he couldn’t pull away.

Because no matter how chaotic you were, there was something about you — something bright.

You were like sunshine — golden and warm, refusing to dim no matter how much the world tried to smother you.

—

It wasn’t until a quiet Sunday afternoon that Spencer realized how much he cared.

He’d been walking home from the bookstore when he spotted you across the street.

You were sitting on the pavement, cross-legged, sketchbook open in your lap. A little girl sat beside you — maybe six or seven — eagerly copying your drawing with her own crayons.

Spencer slowed his steps, watching as you laughed at something the girl said, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

You looked… happy. Like someone who hadn’t been through half the pain you had.

“Hey,” Spencer called as he crossed the street.

Your head shot up, smile widening when you saw him. “Spencer!”

The little girl waved too, flashing him a wide, toothy grin.

“Making friends?” Spencer asked, glancing between you both.

“Always,” you said brightly. “I was just showing Hazel here how to draw a dragon.”

“It’s so cool!” Hazel added, proudly displaying her scrawled creation.

“It’s very impressive,” Spencer agreed.

The girl’s mom called for her a moment later, and after a quick hug, Hazel was gone.

“You’re good with kids,” Spencer said as you packed up your pencils.

“I like them,” you replied simply. “Kids just… they don’t assume the worst in people.”

“Not yet,” he said quietly.

You gave him a sad smile — the kind that told him you understood more than you let on.

“I think that’s why I like them so much,” you murmured. “I want to believe people can be good, too.”

Spencer swallowed hard, suddenly desperate to say something — to tell you that you didn’t have to be the bright one all the time, that you didn’t have to run so fast or shine so hard to make people love you.

But all he said was, “I think you’re a good person, too.”

You smiled — a real one this time, soft and grateful.

And for once, Spencer didn’t feel like he needed to save you.

He just hoped he could keep up.

—

Falling for you wasn’t something Spencer planned.

He thought love would be neat and logical — a series of carefully measured steps with clear markers along the way.

But love with you wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t slow. It was loud and fast and messy.

It was him losing sleep because he couldn’t stop replaying the way your smile hit him like a punch to the chest.

It was the way you kept finding ways to sneak flowers into his apartment — a daisy in his mailbox, a tiny sunflower on his desk, a bright red poppy tucked between the pages of his book with a note that read: Because you’re my favorite nerd.

It was that day at the flea market when you’d found a stack of old records and spun him around right there in the aisle, laughing as you hummed along to some forgotten tune.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” he muttered, stepping awkwardly to the rhythm.

“I know,” you laughed. “But you’re dancing with me anyway.”

He fell in love with you then, too.

—

But for every moment of warmth, there was also fear.

Because sometimes your brightness dimmed.

Sometimes your smile faltered just a little too long.

And sometimes, when you thought no one was looking, Spencer would catch you staring off into space — your eyes distant, shoulders tight — like you were holding yourself together with nothing but stubborn will.

It terrified him.

Because he knew what that emptiness felt like — how easily it could swallow you whole.

He remembered the night you called him — voice thin and shaky.

“I messed up,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking and everything hurt and… I just wanted to stop for a little while.”

He was at your apartment in minutes.

You sat on the floor, knees drawn to your chest, tear-streaked and shaking.

“I’m sorry,” you kept repeating. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, dropping down beside you. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m trying so hard,” you choked. “I just… I don’t know how to make it stop sometimes.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

He stayed with you that night, sitting on the floor until your breathing steadied, until your head tipped against his shoulder and you finally fell asleep.

And in that moment — watching you cling to sleep like it was the only thing tethering you to the world — Spencer realized how badly he wanted to protect you.

Not because you were fragile — God knows you weren’t — but because you were the brightest thing in his life… and he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

—

Falling in love with you wasn’t graceful.

It was messy and terrifying — full of too-fast heartbeats and late-night worries.

He worried when you didn’t text back. He worried when you climbed things you shouldn’t climb. He worried when you laughed a little too loudly like you were trying to drown out something else.

“You need to stop looking at me like I’m going to break,” you said one afternoon, perched on the railing of a bridge like it was the safest seat in the world.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted.

“Spencer… I’m fine.”

“You say that like it’s true,” he muttered.

“It is true,” you insisted, hopping down beside him. “I’m not perfect, but I’m okay. I’m still here.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“And you’re still here, too.”

His heart stuttered.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

And somehow, you always made that enough.

⸻

The moment Spencer knew — really knew — was quieter than he expected.

You were sitting in his apartment, curled up on his couch in one of his oversized cardigans. Your head rested against the armrest, a book balanced lazily on your stomach. You weren’t dancing or climbing something dangerous — you weren’t even smiling.

You were just… there.

Soft. Quiet. Safe.

And in that stillness, Spencer realized that loving you wasn’t about chasing your chaos.

It was about being your quiet place — the calm after the storm, the steady heartbeat you could rest against when everything felt too loud.

And as he watched you — curled up and breathing peacefully, like for once you weren’t fighting to keep yourself afloat — Spencer knew there was no turning back.

He was completely, hopelessly, undeniably in love with you.

[entishramblings]

Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.

Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.

Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.

Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.

But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.

She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.

Still, she wandered more.

As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.

Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.

Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.

So, she followed them.

One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.

Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.

Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.

From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant

Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.

See that was the thing.

Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.

The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.

The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..

She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?

…..

The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.

There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.

Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.

(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.

Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…

A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”

(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.

Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.

“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.

He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.

…..

The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.

Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.

However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.

She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.

Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.

His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.

Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.

“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”

The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.

Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."

Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.

Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”

Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”

The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."

Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”

Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."

“Cursed? But why?”

The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”

At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.

Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.

"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.

….

As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.

It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.

It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.

When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.

When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.

When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.

When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.

This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.

When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.

When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.

When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.

Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.

Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.

Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.

Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.

In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.

He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.

Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.

He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.

The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….

In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.

…..

Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.

Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.

The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.

Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).

As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.

Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.

Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.

He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.

With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.

In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.

However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.

Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.

A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.

Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.

Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.

"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"

She remained unresponsive.

Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.

Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"

Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.

“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”

Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”

Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”

The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”

The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.

Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”

It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”

Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.

“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"

Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”

Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.

The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."

Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.

Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.

The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.

……

Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.

He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.

"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"

Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.

The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.

“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”

“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”

Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. “He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”

He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.

Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.

Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.

"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."

A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."

The elf smiled gently in response.

A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.

Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”

She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”

The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?

(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."

…..

The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.

However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.

“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”

She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."

Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”

Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.

(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”

The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”

“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.

He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”

“Say it,” he commanded.

“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”

Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.

…..

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add yourself to my taglist

[lowkeycasanova]

In exchange

ace x afab!reader

Plot: doing ace's skincare mixed in with some c0ckwarming

(idk how i feel about this)

slight smut

"Oh come on! Please!"

Following Ace into the bedroom, you give him a pouty look. He tries to ignore you but miserably fails.

"Why do you wanna do it so badly?" he sighed.

"I think it would be fun and a way for you to relax. Plus, you'll look extra handsome when I'm finished." You've been trying to get him to let you do some sort of skincare routine on him for the longest, especially since he really doesn't have one.

"And what do I get in exchange?" he cockily smirks at you, tilting his head to the side.

You shrug. "I don't know. What do you want?" He pauses as he thinks for a moment and then his grin widens and walks closer to you.

"I'll let you do it...if you let me put it in."

He lowers his voice on that last part, being cheeky.

Your lips slightly part upon hearing his proposal. Ace had become pretty fond of cockwarming recently and wanted to do it often. It doesn't always end up with sex. He just likes to be inside you, close and warm and you can never say no to that.

"Fine." you agreed.

He plops himself down on the edge of the bed. You join him after filling your hands with the essentials from the bathroom, setting it all down next to him. He grabs you by your waist, pulling you on top of him. When your crotch meets his, you can already feel how hard he is through his black shorts and he gives your ass a gentle smack.

"Got everything?" he asks.

"Yeah." you nod.

"Alright, you know what to do." he says, as if he was waiting for you to take the initiative. He smirks, so full of himself.

You reach down and move your underwear to the side as he tugs his hard cock from out of his pants and you take him by the base, guiding and slowly sinking down on him. His erection filling you up completely. You let out a satisfied moan and he bites his bottom lip, humming in content. He presses a kiss to your cheek before leaning back with his weight on his arms, allowing you to do whatever.

As you go through your products, his hands gently massage your bare thighs and ass, patiently waiting. Grabbing a headband, you put it over his forehead to keep his hair back. While putting the cleanser on, his eyes flutter shut and you take a second to notice how long his lashes are. So natural and honestly unfair. You try to focus on putting on the moisturizer under his eyes, but now you can't seem to ignore the urge to start grinding on him. The way he casually fills you up like this should be a crime.

When you lean closer to work on his eyebrows, you accidently buck your hips. A soft grunt escapes your lips at the friction you created.

"You okay?" he asks with an innocent smile but you know all too well he's being the biggest tease ever.

"Yeah," you breathe out, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. "I'm good."

"Cool." he smiles before closing his eyes again.

You manage to finish the routine without losing your self-control.

"Okay, I'm finished." you say, and the next moment, his eyes appear once more as you take the headband off and his hair falls in his face. He looks breathtaking. His skin is shiny, glowy, and just absolutely stunning. The hottest man ever if you didn't know that already.

"My face feels clean. How do you like it?" He simply asks.

You wanna say something, but have no idea what. Instead, you lean down and give him a hard kiss. That'll let him know your answer.

Forget self control. Immediately, you start rolling your hips, doing what you've been wanting to do for the past twenty minutes. Ace doesn't seem to be against it. His fingers grab a hold of your lower waist, urging you to keep going as your kisses get more heated.

"Fuck." you breathe out, laying your eyes on Ace. His eyes were glossy already and his chest heaved in an attempt to catch his breath for a moment.

"That feel good babe?" he pants, leaning in to kiss the crook of your neck.

"Yes, you feel so fucking good." you moan out, feeling your orgasm build up.

To add, he slightly lifts you up and starts to thrust up.

"Cum for me. Cum on the cock your riding so well."

His words plus the sound of skin slapping was pushing you towards to edge even more.

You grab ahold of the back of his neck before you smash your lips on his again and your release washes over you. His name rolls of your tongue over and over along with breathy groans. He follows a few moments later, gripping your ass with satisfaction as he comes inside you.

After slowing down, you remain on his lap as his cock softens inside. Caressing his cheeks, you admire his newly hydrated face and can't help but smile at how he looks.

That cocky grin returns. "Maybe I should let you do my skincare more often if it ends like this."

[comically-callous]

Sorry to bother you, but I saw your asks/requests were open, and saw that you write for Gambit, I read through your works and love how you write him! I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to do a drabble/ficlet with Gambit x reader? Where reader has ADHD and anxiety? Her mutant power is Empathy, but she only feels other's emotions; can't tell why they're feeling them, and the combo kinda makes her a people pleaser type who struggles to say no to things, so ends up with extra work from other people all the time, kinda burning the candle at both ends until she basically has a mental/physical breakdown? I just really wanna see Gambit being super loving/protective.

If you don't want to/it isn't in your wheelhouse, by all means just ignore me, sorry again to bother you! Have a great day/night!

We love a Gambit request 😋

Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!Reader

Warnings: reader cries and also blames herself for all of her problems 😗✌️

A/n: Man, idk what to put here sometimes, y’all. Reader has a regular job (not an X-Man or anything). And uhh, um, erm requests are open 👍

This whole mess was your fault. All of it. All of the piled up work, and the deadlines you just knew you wouldn’t be able to meet, and the dread over knowing people would be disappointed in you, and your infuriating inability to say no; it was all your fault.

It was days like these when you wished you could get rid of your mutation. That way you might not be such a damn pushover. But, you couldn’t help it. People from work come into the office feeling a little down, and suddenly you’re offering to go get them a coffee, to make some copies for them, to sort out some files, and finish that research project they’ve been putting off. And in the moment, you can feel the happiness and relief radiating from them, and it makes you feel good. But, then you realize (too late) that it’s too much for you to get done in one workday.

Which led you to your current predicament. You were trying to get all of this work (which wasn’t even technically yours) done, but you also needed to get some work around the house done, and your mind couldn’t focus on one task at a time.

You reread the same paragraph for what felt like the eighteenth time, hardly making it past the second sentence before you had to begin rereading it again after your mind had wandered to your laundry that still needed cleaning.

And just when you’d gotten yourself to focus again, there were three knocks at your door. You groaned, letting your head fall to your hands for a moment before you got up and dragged yourself to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw your boyfriend Remy. He was all put together in a nice suit and tie, severely contrasting you in your pajamas with your hair a mess and makeup completely wiped away.

Your stomach sank and you completely froze. You’d forgotten. You’d gotten so caught up in wanting to please other people, that you’d forgotten about tonight.

You just stood at the door, unable to move as your heart began to pound and your throat began to feel tight. Remy knocked again, this time calling your name. You finally opened the door with shaky hands and almost immediately began to sob.

“Woah, woah!” Remy reached out and held you by your shoulders, his hold gentle yet steadying. “What’s wrong chère?”

“I-“ You choked out. “I forgot, Remy. I forgot about tonight.”

Remy had made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant, one you’d been wanting to go to for a while. And you’d forgotten. He’d gotten dressed up all nice for you and it was for nothing, and you, like always, were to blame.

You continued to cry pathetically while Remy guided you over to sit on your couch. “Talk to me, chère.” He said as he gently took your hands.

“I-I forgot-“

“Gambit don’t care about that.” You let your head fall forward onto his shoulder where you continued to sob. “There’s something else, huh?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Sometimes you felt like he had some of your empath abilities as well, or at least some form of mind reading. He could always tell when something was wrong, or when someone was lying. Or maybe it was just with you. Either way, when he suggested that there was something else bothering you, you nodded against him.

“You wanna tell Gambit?”

You inhaled shakily before speaking again. “There’s just…. It’s so much- too much going on— Too much on my plate.” You said, struggling to find the words through your choked sobs and jumbled thoughts.

Remy hummed. This wouldn’t be the first time that you overwhelmed yourself with tasks and work that needed to be done. “Like what?” He asked. And he listened while you listed off all of the things at work that were bugging you and then all of the chores at home that only added to your stress, all the while he soothingly rubbed your back. And once you were finally done, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Your tears had come to a small occasional trickle rather than what felt like a flood a few moments ago.

“Tell you what,” Remy said as he began to pull away. “You rest here while Gambit helps.”

“What?” You asked as he put a blanket over you.

“Lay down. Gambit gonna get some of this outta your way, alright?”

You hardly had the energy to protest, and as you drifted to sleep, you could hear the soft whirring of your washing machine as Remy began doing your laundry for you.

You woke up an hour or two later to the smell cooking, and sat up to see Remy standing in your kitchen over the stove. You groggily got to your feet and walked over to him, hooking your chin over his shoulder to get a look at what he was cooking.

“You get good rest?” Remy asked as he stirred a pot.

“Yeah.” You mumbled back. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, belle?”

“For making you deal with this, with me.” You replied, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Remy turned his head to the side to press a warm kiss to the side of your head. He hummed softly. “You know Gambit ain’t never gonna mind having to deal with you.”

“You mean it?” You asked, a soft smile on your lips.

“You know I do.”

And he was right. In that moment, standing with your chest pressed to his back and your arms around his waist, you were practically drowning in the love and care you could feel radiating off of him. And you knew that he meant it.

[mikkonori]

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎HOW DO THEY MEET AND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU .ㅤPT 1ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ diluc, wriothesley

warnings ：fluff, implied marriage, gn!reader, a tad bit of humor, pining, slight mention of blood (diluc), enemies to lovers kinda situation and teasing (wriothesley), maybe ooc idk, non fluent writer

ㅤThe way you both met was still quite a sore spot for you to talk about. Not because it was in a bad way, of course, it was just a little bit embarrassing, to you at least.

ㅤYou, a new person in Mondstadt, just having moved recently to the City of Freedom, felt like the customs should be learned. And what better costume the people of Mondstadt had than dancing?

ㅤAt least that was what the bard in the tavern told you, as he gathered everyone around together for some dance practice classes.

ㅤLike he said, "there was nothing better than learning together with your friends".

ㅤThe only thing he seemed to have forgotten is the crucial fact that you didn't have any friends yet.

ㅤAt the end of the selection, you were by yourself, completely embarrassed to not have managed to find a partner yet.

ㅤThe bard instead quickly said he had forgotten about you and decided to partner you up with someone himself, stopping you from leaving the place altogether to hide in your house for the next week.

ㅤAnd it just so happened that at the same time, Diluc Ragnvindr, as you knew him, passed by. His red locks of hair swaying in the wind.

ㅤAnd in a second, somehow the bard had managed to drag the man out of his duties to your side, a boyish smirk on his lips. Diluc seemed to be complaining that he had no intention of being part of the event whatsoever, but unfortunately for him, he had no choice in the matter.

ㅤHis murderous glances towards the bard dressed in green did not pass unnoticed by your eyes but you couldn't say anything before that ruby gaze turned to you.

ㅤDespite feeling completely speechless before the man you so heard of, all you could think was how you've never seen such beautiful eyes before.

ㅤIt took a while to notice that he was also staring quietly at you. Just you both, standing awkwardly by each other's side with shy shared glances here and there.

ㅤBut as the bard started the dance practice, every partner having their own fun. Friends, lovers and strangers gathered around under the same music and happiness, the tension between you both finally eased a tad bit, just enough.

ㅤ"Well, since we're already here. Care to share this dance with me, master Diluc?"

ㅤYou asked, a grin dancing in your lips, as you extended one of your hands to him.

ㅤAnd contrary to all of your expectations, having heard only rumors about him, the man they called ruthless and cold, grinned back at you. It was just for a few seconds, but it was more than enough to steal your breath away.

ㅤ"I suppose we could try, yes." And you thought you caught some sort of quiet confidence in his tone. Like he had practiced years for this.

ㅤWell, dancing was never your forte but it was probably not that hard to learn in a few seconds, right?

ㅤThat was what you thought before the missteps started to happen, of course.

ㅤ"Do not mind me." He said, but you felt desperate each time he winced as you stepped on his feet in the middle of a dance step.

ㅤAnd you found yourself admiring him for how well and flawlessly he sometimes managed to dodge your fumbled steps. His composure never wavering as he kept guiding you through a steady dance.

ㅤYou felt like Diluc could as well be your savior. The savior to your already nonexistent reputation that is.

ㅤEven if you stepped on his feet one too many times, instead of being annoyed as he would have been were it anyone else, Diluc found it endearing.

ㅤHe had to lean over you so that you wouldn't see his own small smile as you fretted over him, asking if his feet hurt. It did, but there's no need to mention that.

ㅤAt the end of the dance, Diluc had held your hands one second longer than he should have, and you also didn't feel like ending this so quickly.

ㅤSo you called out for him.

ㅤ"Let's meet again. I think I still don't get this dance."

ㅤAnd he smiled. You had no idea if this was a good or bad thing for your poor heart.

ㅤEveryone knows that fire burns fast and ruthlessly, taking away what it needs before disappearing with the break of dawn. But Diluc's love was the opposite.

ㅤIt was slow, hesitant. Carefully blooming like a fragile Small Lamp Grass in the soft glow of first-time affection. Diluc carried these emotions like a delicate dance of vulnerability and anticipation.

ㅤLike a steady flame, casting a warm glow over the tapestry of you both interwoven destinies.

ㅤThe touch of hands became a silent agreement, a subtle acknowledgment of emotions too profound to articulate. In the gentle ebb and flow of your interactions, a slow crescendo of emotions built, resonating with the innocence of a love untouched by the scars of the past.

ㅤYou both were so oblivious, despite the greetings that turned to hugs that lasted longer each time and the shared glances at each other's eyes for a moment too long. Small things that all seemed to notice but the both of you.

ㅤSo much so, that even Venti, the bard you've grown to know and whose presence was always within the vicinity, one day commented that you should invite him to your wedding next time, and immediately in the next second he was kicked out of the tavern.

ㅤDiluc felt himself slowly learning about the intricate nuances of what love was. Of what it could be.

ㅤYou taught him that love didn't always end on a rainy day, and that your blood would never stain his hands.

ㅤHe grew under your touch, with a newfound confidence of a love well nurtured slowly with the pass of time.

ㅤEven if you stepped on his feet a million times and by the end of this dance you both called love his feet felt beyond salvation, Diluc still knew that his love for you would never waver.

ㅤAnd he would keep teaching you just as much as you do for him, so that one day, when the dawn comes and you're both by the kitchen, quietly sharing smiles and your bodies are once again intertwined in an unfaltering dance, in a time where none of you have to worry about duties anymore, you won't step on him again.

ㅤAs the warm morning dew cast its light over the shared rings on your hands, Diluc didn't want to believe in gods, but he still had to thank Barbatos for bringing you to him on that day. With all your giggles and bright eyed smiles.

ㅤYou were his savior and his redemption, just as much as he was yours.

ㅤWriothesley, the so famously known Duke of the Fortress of Meropide and also your worst declared enemy.

ㅤYour friends would always tell you that it was an exaggeration, that it wasn't that bad. You both seemed to actually work very well together. But you begged to differ from their opinions.

ㅤYou are the secretary in the Palais Mermonia, working directly under orders of the Judge, Monsieur Neuvillette himself. A quite noble position if you were to say so yourself, in fact.

ㅤBut Wriothesley seemed to somehow doubt your high position as he kept asking you to simply do favors for him, taking advantage of the fact that he was 'close friends' with the Iudex.

ㅤYou dreaded each time Monsieur Neuvillette asked you to bring some documents over from the Fortress, meaning you would have to talk with the Duke too.

ㅤAnd you knew, each time you went there, that man had something in store for you. Just like the first time you both met.

ㅤ"You must be the secretary, right? Can you do me a favor then, and bring me a cup of tea?"

ㅤHe had said back then, and there was nothing more you wished than to wipe that wolfish grin from his lips with your own two hands.

ㅤHe seemed to get off on the exact fact that you would snap at him and get angry, like he reveled in your disappointed expressions and bitter stares.

ㅤAnd it seemed that each time you visited, no matter how much you refused — and perhaps that was the exact reason the man decided to try even more— the requests became more and more unusual.

ㅤ"Let me take you out on dinner."

ㅤYou didn't even know how he could be so shameless while asking this, but you still blatantly refused his approaches each time with fierceness.

ㅤAnd you told yourself each time, oh how you hated him.

ㅤInstead, all you didn't know was that Wriothesley thought of you the exact opposite of what you imagined.

ㅤSince the first time the Duke saw you, your tight and serious expression and the bags under your eyes, he had decided that he needed to see you smile at least once, no matter what.

ㅤThat's why he kept sending multiple letters to Neuvillette, practically begging the Iudex to send you once more, telling him of how much of a good work you did unlike all the other secretaries and how he still had forgotten to send him just one more document.

ㅤAll lies of course, but you can't blame a man for trying at least a bit.

ㅤHe had been enamored by you since the first time you walked in his office. The tenacity and unyielding confidence in your steps and speech.

ㅤWriothesley, and perhaps you, hadn't even realized how intertwined you two were, being part of each other's daily lives.

ㅤHadn't even realized how, slowly and steadily, something new was being shaped.

ㅤWith each sharp gaze of yours that made Wriothesley's heart skip a beat, and each argument that would slowly turn into a playful banter that had you almost lose your facade of sternness and harshness, you both were becoming soft for each other.

ㅤUntil one day, you went to visit him yourself, outside of the duties you held so passionately to yourself.

ㅤYou were also surprised at how easy the path was, and how earnest your steps had become after all these months of endless back and forth.

ㅤBut nothing could top the astonished and dumbfounded look that the Duke of Meropide himself had given you when you entered his office, not wearing your usual confident expression and work clothes.

ㅤ"Are… you free right now?"

ㅤYou had asked him, your fingers trembling behind your back, hating how shy your voice sounded for some reason.

ㅤAgainst your expectations, as always, Wriothesley found a way to surprise you. He recovered quickly from the awed state, promptly getting up from his chair at once and making his way to you, a reassuring smile on his face.

ㅤHe had never looked so happy ever since you met him.

ㅤ"For you? Always."

ㅤSo the both of you left the cold office with warmness in your hearts. Together, side by side.

ㅤHe even gave a try to holding your hand once before you slapped it away.

ㅤWell… small, baby steps, he supposed.

ㅤAnd Wriothesley decided that it was always worth it to have to spend the entire night finishing the documents due tomorrow if it meant having you for the entire day.

💙 Part 2 will feature Neuvillette and Thoma.

[kayesfanfics]

wsppp 😋😋

Do you think Adrian tepes, Trevor, or hector would date a fem witch, ghost or werewolf ? If they would date a werewolf girl, how do you think they would deal with her shifting? It’s supposably painful bc the bones are breaking then fixing themselves in a new form😭 do you think the ghost gf would sometimes have self image issues cause she isn’t really there(transparent) witch gf would be really cute esp if she has a familiar like a black cat or crow (really basic ik) omg and she like has her familiar deliver letters to her lover when they are away 🥹 or she tries to like show her lover how to make potions and he ends up growing plants or a small explosion 😭😭 imagine he makes smth right and he’s bragging but then it blows up into his face 😹😹

I always see people write for vamps but I think it would be cool to include other monsters yk. I have so many ideas but idk how to write 😔😔

Hope ur doing well! -🌙

A/N: I added Isaac as well, but THIS WAS SUCH A FUN PROMPT AND IM SORRY IT TOOK SO DAMN LONG. But I love exploring other monsters, it’s so fun-

Trevor Belmont x Witch! Reader

His knowledge on magic is limited, but not unheard of. He understands the kind of magic Sypha uses, but yours isn’t quite like it. Your type of magic uses alchemy, black magic, the “devils work”. You’ve been cast out and targeted for practicing such things, but you continued to practice witchcraft despite the attempts on your life. Trevor had actually seen you being hauled off to a jail roughly before saving you, recognizing you as a healer around this town

After saving you, he asked for a your witchcraft services to help heal a rather nasty wound he had received, so you took him to your house, where your familiar, a beautiful crow, was awaiting your return. He cawed at your and flew over to land on your shoulder, before cocking his head curiously at the large man behind you

“He’s a customer, my dear! Be hospitable!” You teased, before guiding Trevor over to a room that contained all of your supplies and books. You put together a salve for him, and offered to put it on his wounds for him, to which he accepted and casually began to undress until he was shirtless. You stared at him with a blush on your face for a moment, until he grinned and teased you saying “My eyes are up here, love~”

You allowed him to stay with you for a few nights, which slowly blossomed into some sort of a romantic and physical relationship. When he had to leave to go kill some vampires he’d been hired to get rid of, you’d send him off with healing herbs he’d need to recreate the first salve you made for him. You’d send your familiar out to track him with magic and send him letters or extra supplies, and he’d always send some cheeky note back to you that made you giggle and kick your feet

He definitely tries to help you with your potions and powders, getting supplies or tools for you when you asked. One time he successfully recreated a potion, that is until he got cocky and knocked over another vial into the potion, causing it to explode and blow up into his face, ruining his hair and leaving his face scorched, which made you laugh so hard you nearly pissed yourself as he sarcastically laughed along with you

Adrian Tepes x Ghost! Reader

You often times didn’t feel real and felt like your existence was useless and didn’t have a purpose, that is until you met a beautiful man with pale skin and pale blonde hair, with beautiful golden eyes and sharp fangs. He was mesmerizing and intelligent despite his age, and the two of you formed a relationship, which was soon crumbled by his father injuring him so badly he had to lock himself in a coffin to rest and heal. You haunted the place he had put himself to recover from his fathers attack, and took it upon yourself to watch over him and guard his tomb

After joining Trevor and Sypha on the journey to kill Dracula, you went with them and used your own abilities to help fight. Luckily nothing could kill you again, so you were able to fight by becoming fully invisible, making yourself solid then phase through creatures. Sypha asked you many questions on the journey about you and what it’s like being a ghost, Adrian smiling fondly as the two of you chatted excitedly, as he hadn’t seen you have a friend before

Whenever your self doubts and insecurities about your existence plagued you, he was always there to assure you that you were indeed real. You didn’t have a grave or body to visit as your body had been burned and cremated as to not start a plague, but you had a whole life before him you could tell him about. He’d be able to touch you and feel you were real, kiss you on the forehead to show you you were real

You too didn’t need as much sleep as he did, being dead and all. So you both often roamed the castle together and continued to clean and upkeep it together, rather than restlessly lying in a bed all night. The two of you would have intelligent conversations about philosophy, the science his mother studied, history, things of that sort to get you through sleepless nights. Lying in bed together cuddling while conversing, his hand rubbing your back as you rested your head on his chest

Hector x Werewolf! Reader

As an expert on creatures of the night, he wasn���t phased slightly when he heard Master Dracula had recruited a werewolf into his Court. Despite being half human, you were never treated as one, only being treated like a dog by your fellow species. So you instead took revenge by ripping apart those who hurt you, and Dracula had met you years ago similar to how he met Hector and Isaac, but was recruited last due to your hiding out in secrecy from everybody, you were difficult to track down even for Dracula

When you arrived, you appeared as a regular human, but the vampires could sense you were anything but. You bowed to Dracula and thanked him for the opportunity to help his cause, before he told you to begin planning with the other generals. After speaking with the vampires, you decided to learn about the humans, as you were curious why they would help kill their own kind as well. You started with the silver haired man, and bonded over your shared mistreatment by humans, and he was curious about your more wolf form. You smiled and told him he’d have to wait for that, making sure he’d have something to come back to you for, as you grew fond of the shy and straight to the point man

When he finally got to see it, he watched in borderline horror as you howled in pain from the transformation, hearing your bones snap and crack into new places as you transformed into a large, furry monster. But Hector wasn’t truly afraid of you, just of the pain he heard you in, and he gently approached you and rested a hand on your forehead as he did his night creatures to comfort and calm them through their own transformations. You shut your eyes and leaned into his touch, waiting the transformation out together until it was complete, and you could stand at your new full height, well above him. He’d only look at you with fascination rather than fear or hatred like everyone else did

Isaac x Gorgon! Reader

He is clearly not disturbed or taken aback by monsters of any kind, he’d face one with a stoic face and calm demeanor. You came to Dracula one night after being driven away by townspeople for accidentally turning someone to stone, so he allowed you refuge in his castle and gifted you a magical blindfold that would keep you from laying your eyes upon anyone and turning them into a statue. Ever since then you’ve been loyal to him and agreed immediately to help him with your cause, and to use your ability to fight off humans that have wronged you. When you met Isaac, he was immediately intrigued but didn’t make it obvious. You spent a lot of time listening to him work and hearing his night creatures be brought to life, and he’d even guided you to pet a night creature that was calm for him

Throughout the war you formed a relationship with the cold man, though he was warm to you. Never sappy or super affectionate, but he’d do things like learn Braille for you and create plaques as labels on things for you, fight alongside you and tie your blindfold back on for you when the battle was over, create night creatures specifically to help you. He allowed you to hold his arm as you walked through the ever changing castle with him. He never thought he’d find love amongst all this chaos and death, he didn’t even want to befriend Hector because of it, but yet he found himself infatuated with you and wanting to spend as much time as he had left with you

He didn’t mind the fact he’d never be able to look into your eyes, and you didn’t mind the fact you’d never be able to look at him at all except through maybe a portrait. The two of you simply enjoyed the others presence and company, oftentimes sitting beside each other doing your own things, always having a comfortable silence between the both of you. You didn’t turn objects to stone, so if you made sure not to look at any living being, you could do things like read and he’d help make sure you wouldn’t accidentally turn anyone to stone

[princessofghosts-posts]

The way Nico is always relevant to the plot,no matter what,is something else to me.

In PJO he got introduced in the third book so kinda late since the serie is only about 5 books,and he didn't had much presence because we only had a couple of scene with him. And only during BotL his character is 100% present (even tho he and the others have a total different journey in the Labyrinth) but even with this little time,he was extremely relevant for the end. Without him and his help things could have gone horrible in Manhattan at the end.

HoO keeps this up. Nico presence is only felt in 3 of the 5 books (with a couple of scene in SoN),with one of those being MoA where he pratically show up only in the end. And even with that Nico is still 100% relevant.

I haven't be able to read all of ToA yet (dam my final exam-) but I think this is the only time where he isn't really relevant,which is fair because the story is about Apollo and his path,and the demigods are only there for support.

Then we have his own books where he is the protagonist of,so the plot is about him. And the other serie of the main timeline is the one with Percy,Annabeth and Grover trying to get the letters to get into Rew Rome University,but I see that more of a spin-off. They just want to have their happy ending after everything that happened and want to live a "normal" life in a good place. This also isn't about him so he isn't here.

But like,out of 5 series of the main timeline,Nico is relevant in 3 of them,we are talking about more than 10 books (Idk if in ToA he will have some kinda of role at the end,I will find out),and that is fucking amazing. Most side characters after a while aren't that much relevant and are put aside in favor of new characters. Nico didn't had this treatment. He isn't really a side character for se because I always saw him part of the main ones,but he just does his own things and appears when you least expect it. So he is in his own category. But for Riordan the difference between main and side characters doesn't matter since he killed off people that were part of those categories regardless.

Riordan could have choose to put Nico to the side after the end of PJO,he served his propose and got closure after all,but he still made him extremely relevant to the plot again–from the start. And I also really like how he did that because Nico had more of a guide role in HoO : in SoN he decided to go to the source of their problem and fix it alone; in MoA he was referred as the "key for the doors" and it got said multiple times how important he was for their quest; I loved how in HoH he took the role to call the shot about the place where they were going,because it highlighted his intelligence and how much capable he was; in BoO he had his own important side quest to do with the statue,hadn't he decided to help them everything would have be destroyed (like when he helped them during the first war).

And even in PJO he had a similar approach,starting with him in BotL when he helped Percy,to him pre-TLO telling Percy his plan,to him in TLO helping them even with his and Percy fallout because of Hades,and all of this while providing important informations all the times he appeared. He always had a sort of leading role but not like Percy,Thalia or Jason: Nico is more like an expert and intelligent teacher that help you figure things out and give you informations.

And I love this of him. I loved how in HoH Nico was basically mapping their path with his acknowledge,taking a bit of Annabeth's position while she and Percy were fighting in Tartarus. He isn't only a powerhouse and a skilled fighter,his intelligence is something else too. The difference of experience between the crew (minus Percy and Annabeth) and Nico was felt,and I loved that. I loved how he was like a guide for the crew during their travel to the temple,how he helped them even when he was in an horrible physical condition and his mental state was...yeah (and I hated how they treated him in exchange-).

I hate a lot of things that Riordan did with Nico's character,his relationships and his powers especially,but one of the few things he did right was making Nico having this type of supportive subtle leadership,acting like a guide/teacher for the crew and sometimes even Percy.

Idk why but it suite him a lot and while it give time and space for the other characters to shine,it also make him relevant in everything that happens,without the situation being always about him and without making him part of most of the important things that happens in the books (Riordan please take notes for Percy-).

[thementalshawty]

PAC Who Is Your FS? Pt.1

Hey I am back with another PAC but I’m going to do something a little different this time. I will be doing 6 piles but they will be in a 2 parter because I want the energy of the 6 to be separated. So at the end of the day you can read this one and get the gist and the sec on part is confirmation or even extra information, the others can and will find their answers in one of the piles in either part one or two. This is a general reading so with that you know the deal, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. So Picc an Emoji and let’s begin now.

Disclaimer: Tarot is not final but is a mere suggestion, don’t you depend on the opinion or suggestions of anyone to make your own decisions and judgement calls.

P1: 🍩

P2: 🍉

P3: 🥘

🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩

FS 1:

Animal that represents your FS: Crow Spirit. I feel like your FS off top is taboo, well for some of you here I’m hearing witches and warlocks as spouses in this pile, or maybe some of you are? Something about counting crows idk if they do that but I know that they definitely associate with crows in some way? They Cocreate with their spirit guides whether it’s aware to them or not. I told you some of them are witches and warlocks or are very powerful manifesters. They’re hella creative and they may have a Loud yell or call. They may have bird like features some of them. Something in them is Sharp? Like a sharp nose or a sharp stare??? Numbers: 1,7,8 & 17 may have some importance

Auset describing Your FS: Hapi Water Spirit. Numbers 1,3,4 and 13 could be of importance. I feel for some of you, your FS are water signs, mainly Scorpio and Pisces. They’re the type of person that needs to work energetically and with thought before making any moves. They’re definitely a planner and I’m hearing analyzer. This person wants nooooooo fuck ups! NONE HONEY!!! Baboons may have something to do with them too?? They need to visualize the moves for themselves before they do it. I’m telling you this is my alchemical pile right here, very very magical spouses, maybe you guys delve in magic too or should try it. If not you definitely them!

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Here & Now. Numbers 3,2,5 & 32 could have some significance. Some of your spouses are 32, I heard that not all but for some. They are not one to worry about the future or worry about the past, I heard they gotta plan for that already, they are just worried about executing the plan for today. They’re a very live in the moment and present kind of people. I see that they’re the type of person to get caught up sometimes and forget that though, cos being the planner that they are they do have worries about the future I feel in the past they weren’t as prepared and that shit caused them so much struggle and so from that day they wanna be prepared. This is a person who has plan b-Z if A doesn’t work. They are always present though, even when they worry about the future or the past they manage to always bring themselves back to the present cos they don’t wanna miss a thing. (Ha now I’m hearing that song by Aerosmith).

Your FS (Tarot): 9oPentacles, 6oSwords,Justice. You already know numbers 9,6,11,& 2 may have some importance to them. I feel that your FS are very accomplished, I feel it’s fairly new, they just acquired their success and blessings, they worked their goddamn asses for it! They aren’t a lazy person, they hate procrastinating but I feel they may do it sometimes which is why I feel they worked their asses off to get where and what they needed and it’s finally starting to pay off for them, matter of fact every single one of these cards sort of represent that, instead of telling me who they are it’s almost telling me what they’re going through, or what they’ve been going through and I think it’s because it’s a transformative time for them, they will be ascending and a lot of things that could describe them may be falling off so maybe your guides don’t want to fully share their personality because they’re experiencing their own experiences that’s showing them who they really are. I feel like they may like birds, crows, hawks Ravens etc. spiritually and materially they have just been blessed and they are enjoying every minute of it! They’re not missing a single second for the world! They have gone through way too much shit for them to not be anything other than present for this. They are FINALLY coming out of a dark place in their lives, they were in some drama mama! Some straight up chaos and that shit was so unhealthy it began to shut them down I’m hearing for some the others sort of just reacted angrily and it was so toxic they became spiritually and physically sick. I feel that they got some help to come in, and they were helped out by someone who moved them away from their toxic environment. I feel your FS are like that and I feel it’s cos they are compassionate, they know and understand struggle and they hate to see it. They could be a Libra due to the justice card of have Libra placements. They are the mediators of their group, I don’t see them having many friends, a selective few maybe some acquaintances that they laugh and joke around with but other than that nobody really close to them, I’m getting Lone Wolf and ranger type of vibes from this pile. They are someone who’s going to stand up for what they feel is true and fair and equal! They cherish and crave mutuality, if it’s imbalanced they not a fan. They honor equality and respect for all! They see everyone the same they don’t do favoritism and hatred towards anyone. They suffered. Some of your FS are Black, White, Some Asian/Korean/ Hispanic even too. I feel especially if you’re looking for women those ethnic backgrounds apply. Your FS has an ugly side tho, when unfairness or anything they feel is wrong or unjust comes out they are unmerciful. They can be ruthless if needed. Long hair for some, curly fros for others, black and brown hair colors I’m seeing. Gentleman and gentlewomen. Very soft but sharp features. True knights. Diplomatic and tactful, Hella charming. Playboys and women, they know how to bag a person! They’re very good looking, handsome, stunning, I’m even seeing gorgeous to some of you. It’s a very classy kind of beauty. Innocent and beautiful. They are quick to help out anyone they feel needs them and they’re not the type to swoop in and save the day assuming that needs to happen, they will always approach and ask “you need some help?” “Can I help you?” Perfect customer service representative honestly. They’re very sweet and kindhearted. Great smiles. They may be gardeners some of them, they like organic shit, they may not eat meat, or anything that has chemicals and toxic ingredients in food. They are very sensitive about what they put into their bodies. Smokers for some? (Weed not cigarettes or anything else). This person is a catch, a true victorious winner and they will treat you amazingly. Earth and Air placements especially Libra and Taurus! This person is Venus personified! Congrats! They’re hella seductive! I’m trying to find something bad on them honestly but it’s not working. They just fuccin rocc! Acts of Service is their love language.

I feel that. Congrats p1 you deserve it.

🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

FS II

Animal that represents your FS: Bee Spirit. So I’m seeing that 7 could have some significance, as well as the colors Yellow and Black, which leads me to think that some of your FS are mixed races. They’re very hardworking and some of them are the queen bees lol. They have been striving towards something and sweet results are about to roll in for them. I feel like they’re very goal oriented, tunnel vision. This is my workaholic pile I feel, they are workhorses some of them, others are spoiled by others. They have stingers but only use them if they absolutely must. They work like a well oiled machine, no rest. They are around the clock nonstop movers and shakers and they’re about to be rewarded if they aren’t already.

Auset Describing Your FS: Set. Numbers 3,7, 10, 1 & 37 could have some importance to your FS. Set is the god of chaos and war, dirt and sandstorms. I feel your FS have dealt with a lot of challenges and they have some negative traits that you will not like, I’m getting Aries vibes from this. The color red is coming to my head, something about rage. They may have anger issues, they are a jealous person. Some of your FS are bitter from all the challenges they went through, life gave them shit and they kind of internalized it and became dreadful, survival mode on lock, they are so paranoid, they may have or had beef with a sibling. They could have jealous family members. Some of them could have just been dealing with some shit. They can be the youngest sibling or the issue is with the younger sibling. People are intimidated by them. Their demeanor is don’t fucc with me and people heed that shit. They could be 37 some of them, or 10 years older or younger than some of you? They’ve seen some ugly shit in their lives in love, family, career etc. I’m seeing drug addiction for either them or someone they loved and they dealt with that shit. This person is strong but it tainted them in the process I feel.

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Treasure Island. The number 9 could be of some importance to your FS. I feel like they’re the type to see the beauty in things others may not. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, they may have that mindset. They’re beginning to see the results of their own actions, they’ve been moving slow towards this goal that they’re about to receive. This person is a treasure and you’ll definitely see them that way! Great at manifesting, they’re right now working with the law of attraction. They just received a financial windfall from out of nowhere to them. They’re very abundant right now or they’re definitely about to be.

Your FS (Tarot): The Empress, 3oSwordsRx, & The HermitRx. I see that the number 3, 9, & 7 are frequent in this reading so I feel like those numbers in particular are very important to your FS. They can be a Virgo or a Pisces. They’re very intelligent and intuitive. Your FS is beautiful you’ll be blown away by their beauty. Especially if it’s a woman too! They can have braids or locs some of them. They’re very sweet and loving, nurturing and parental. They could have kids. They may love moon bathing some of them, or they should. They are of the world; hella creative and open to whatever the universe/god is bringing them. They are always coming up with new ideas and projects they are the type of people to have plenty of hobbies, a jack of all trades. They are very blended in their energies, and elements. I feel whatever they went through shaped them and helped them become whole but I just think that they can’t see it. They are the type to not know the magnitude of how much they rule!! They may shit on themselves heavily! They are the type to be there for everyone except themselves. They put themselves on the backburner. They are so amazing but they are the type to wallow in their pain and own ignorance. They don’t want to face what happened to them or they don’t want to take accountability for their part in it, so maybe they had an outburst but they will always come up with excuses for it. They are jaded over this pain, I feel it makes so much impact with how they live, move and make decisions. They are so strong but they are so blinded by this pain or by this anger, they really see nothing but that. It overpowers everything that they are and do. They need to do some shadow work. They procrastinate when it comes to it, they may avoid those feelings because they don’t want to relive that hurt but what they don’t realize is that they’re replaying this pain on a loop subliminally in their minds so they’re technically always reliving that pain! That’s why they’re so jaded, it’s like getting sick of a song but you’re leaving it on replay. They need to get out of their head. They’re in isolation, this person I feel has little to absolutely no friends. They were in some kind of abusive relationship. I don’t really wanna get into that. If they don’t have kids, they’re very fertile!! They barely go out, a homebody and I feel to a scary point and I don’t wanna get deeper into that cos it’s reminding me of myself and what I am having to break out of and baby that shit is no joke and putting that business on here without knowing them personally is just fucked up so I won’t. They have been through some shit but they are beautiful person, their heart is being pulled in so many directions and it’s so hard for them to catch a break and they are dealing with it in a toxic way for them and they need to face their demons. I feel they just need someone to talk too, but I have a feeling this person is locked tighter than a bank vault after a robbery. They aren’t into letting anyone see them, not even themselves, Ugh my heart goes out to them. Words of affirmation I feel is their love language. Fear avoidant attachment style, they’re Virgo like, the highs and lows of the sign honestly, I feel like some are Pisces and some are Virgos. Very feminine energy. They want love but they’re afraid of rejection and getting hurt cos that’s all they know, so they’re afraid to dream bigger and want better for themselves.

🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘

FS III

Animal that represents your FS: Pig Spirit🐽: The numbers 4,7,11,2,& 47 may have some importance. This is the kind of person who is quick on their feet, they give me air energy. They’re very intelligent. They’re not a messy person even tho they have messy moments. They’re fun loving and just want to enjoy themselves while they’re still on this earth. Happy go lucky type of people. They believe that pigs can fly, they dream big but they’re not delusional they understand the concept between reality and fantasy but they have a great imagination and they have big goals and aspirations for themselves. They wanna own the moon one day. They wanna fly the highest they can possibly get. They live on cloud 9!

Auset Describing your FS: Anubis. 3. He’s one of my guides!!!! I love Anubis he’s amazing! Your FS is such a great person! They’re very wise and give amazing advice. They take care of everyone, no favoritism with them, they treat everyone fairly, they judge by action, they feel like your hearts intention is based on how you move. You can protect on them to guide you whenever you need it, anyone who needs help, they are the one to call. So reliable and trustworthy, they may have a lot of people depend on them. Helping them transition from one state to the next. They can even be a therapist some of them, or the dr Phil/oprah of their group. They stand up for what they believe in and who they believe in. They’re a great protector. You will feel so safe, they feel like everyone should feel that way, “has the RIGHT to feel safe.” I heard that. Guard dog lover, they aren’t jealous but they won’t let just anyone get near you. They could’ve been abandoned by their parents (maternal esp if you’re looking for guy). They believe in healing of the soul by living out their passions. They believe that freedom to be yourselves is the best medicine. They want to get to know people for who they are at a soul core level. I feel they have GREAT FRIENDS. Certain LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 energy here, they created their own family! They love caring for others, they feel it’s part of their purpose, some nurses and doctors here. Therapist just doctors or medicators of some kind.

Describing your FS (oracle): A Leg Up. 3,4,7, & 34 could have some significance to your FS. They can be 34 some of them. I feel like they are the type of person to definitely lift others up, they aren’t selfish or greedy about shit, they will share their plate, cos they’re confident in their position. They themselves have received leg ups in life from people and they’re just passing on that energy. They’re not a jealous person at all they’re about progression. Sagittarius energy HEAVY! Sag and Aqua energy HEAVY! They’re very free loving. They’re very authoritative and they know how to delegate, they know how to both give and receive help. They’re not hyper independent they believe in teamwork! I love your FS! They’re my favorite! Shhhhhh don’t tell!

Describing your FS (Tarot): PageoSwords, 6oWands,& Judgement. They’re hella inquisitive and always asking about everything, they love to learn, very Gemini energy. They love to gossip with their friends, I also think that they’re the topic of gossip. Reading is everything to them. You’ll always catch their face in a book. Great conversationalist. Young at heart. Playful. They know how to multitask and juggle many things at a time. Their mind is always racing and they can’t turn it off. They’re a student of the world! They want to learn everything. The type who’s learning how to speak different languages. 6,2,& 20 may have some importance to them, some of your FS in this pile is 20. Some of you????? If that’s the case this is confirmation that you chose the right pile! I am seeing that your FS for some 2-3 maybe are celebrities like well known celebrities! No K-pop I don’t sense that here but I’m seeing some notoriety and some household names being here. The rest your FS is known in their field. Wildly successful and part of that has to do with their success story, how they came up and what they went through their hustle to mask it out of the “hood” or bad circumstances so to speak, they have brown hair, long, wavy, curly and straight, it varies I’m seeing. They are hella influential and inspirational to a lot of people, they’re extremely popular. An important person I’m hearing VIP. The it boy/girl. Everyone wants them, everyone wants to be them. They’re not cocky though, they’re all smiles and laughs, very joyous, I’m hearing for the celebrities, once you meet them and get to know them a little you’ll understand why they got fame. They’re so fun to be around. Fun and bubbly personality. They have loud voice. They’re very in demand. They know how to control a room. How to perform. They’re hella entertaining and I think they’re funny cos I’m feeling the urge to laugh and giggle. They may laugh a lot or giggle. You will find that cute. They’re not all about themselves, I see confidence but I also see that they’re a bit insecure too. They dress nice. They dress and look expensive. This is my glam and glitzy but humble pile. They’re such a fuccin joy. And they’re themselves regardless of what’s happening or who’s around. They are the essence of them and that shit is untouchable. They feel like people should see who they are, to love them and experience them to a full extent. They do enjoy the spotlight on them but I’m hearing they deserve it. They’re so litty. They remind me of me! I’m still feeling giggly and giddy, I feel this is how people feel around them (especially them celebs.). They are accepting too, they don’t judge, they’ve faced a lot of backlash and judgement from being who they are so this is the smack in their faces to your FS, their whole image can be about fuck society and their standards etc. I’m getting rocker energy from this pile so some of them can be famous rockers? I was getting the older numbers like 47, so some of you may have a FS in their 40’s, so what??? You’re all over 18 & you will know this person is your person, I feel this connection between you guys is that of a spiritual one. You can feel their spirit, it’s strong! Their presence is very powerful! This person is electric and everyone loves them! Nothing bad to say about this pile! Not really!

Alrighty my dearies! That’s it for part one of who’s your FS! Thank you for taking this ride with me and stay tuned for good ole part two coming soon!

Hope you have clarity!

Now Spread Love and Light!

EeeP Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 👋🏽

Heka 🕊️🏆

[midnightmischief10]

welp. i'm posting this unedited and EXTREMELY self indulgent pedro pascal x reader fic. i have more written, but i will only post the full thing if ppl are also as sick and twisted as me.

hope who ever reads this, feels a little more seen bc i am SICK (well not really HHAHAH) of all the pedro character ddlg fics!! i just wanted to write something more realistic? idk welp, here it is! (not in its entirety:P )

Si no te hubieras ido

pairings: Pedro Pascal x Reader

warnings: age gap, drinking, reader is in their 20s

getting to work on a set like The Mandalorian was a dream if you were being honest. no, you weren't some high end actor, or a famous director, just someone part of the production crew, doing things like planning, writing, hell even editing. you'd do anything to just be a part of a project like this.

interactions with the actors were also common in a job like this, but apart from just guiding them through certain scenes and how they should look, you really didn't cross the boundaries that weren't professional. It was really nice to admire them though. Getting the occasional chat with big shot superstars was so cool and always something to brag about to your family even though they weren't supportive of your career choice. You didn’t end up a doctor or lawyer like they wanted, but hey! You did something you loved.

It was honestly a very normal day in the workplace. You were working in the art department as usual, helping make sure the vision that the director wanted was really coming through. Being behind the scenes for such big projects like these was really something. Your admiration for the process really grew getting to do all the behind the scenes work, it was such a nice feeling seeing the thing you along with many others, worked so hard on being televised was something special.

You weren't the overly ambitious type, but the thought of directing something sounded really cool.

You continued on, designing what the director wanted on a few scenes we’d be working on in the following weeks.

Lost in your work you didn’t expect anyone to come up to you for anything, you weren't the art director so it wasn't usual for people to come to you. Unbeknownst to you, you felt a sudden hand on your arm, not roughly just to get your attention.

you look up and woah…why the hell was Pedro Pascal standing right behind you.

"uhm, I'm sorry to bother you, you seem busy, but I've been meaning to ask, would you like to go out for a drink sometime?" Pedro asked.

huh? what…the…fuck…?

it caught you off guard.

Firstly, why was Pedro Pascal even looking for you? Because I mean you? of all people he could ask something like that, it was you? A man notorious for not having any sort of relationship, at least not public, was standing here with you asking you to go out for a drink.

you didn’t even think about your response before the words fell from your mouth.

"oh..uhm…Is this some kind of prank?"

you dumb BITCH WHY WOULD U SAY THAT???

was what you thought immediately after.

In your defense, you were in disbelief because what the hell was Pedro Pascal, a very prominent and influential actor, asking you out for drinks? I mean the interactions you both have had were merely professional and work related so why?

he looked confused at your answer, maybe even a little insulted, which was not your intention.

"shit I'm sorry I didn't mean to sound rude I'm just in a bit of disbelief" you let out an awkward laugh to soften the previous response and got out of your seat to face him properly. how do you even respond to a question like that, you had no idea that's for certain.

He stared softly at you and started, "no I'm sorry, that was very sudden haha. no need to say yes I just wanted to see if you would." His response was genuine and he wore a soft smile as he did.

God, was he really handsome up close.

To be quite honest, you always found him super attractive. But he was the internet’s daddy so it wasn't just you who felt attraction towards him. And sure, you might've dabbled in the idea of maybe even going out with him, but you were realistic with yourself.

But here you are now. Getting asked out on a date with this hunk of a man.

You were still lost in thought, trying to reflect on what was occurring and what came out of Pedro’s mouth.

He spoke again, "Sorry, just forget it ev-"

"no no, I mean I'd love to, who wouldn't want to go out for drinks with you, I'm just not all that special ya know?" you were being honest. You weren't some super sexy model or a renowned actor, you were just some girl working on the same set as Pedro.

Also, you were much younger than Pedro.

"I'd beg to differ." he said quite frankly. He smiled that sweet and tender smile of his and you couldn't help but think, for an older man he was sure fine.

you were daydreaming again at this point when Pedro spoke again,"so...is that a yes then?" it snapped you back to reality. It was so odd to see him so nervous over something like this, but being in the know of most things Hollywood, everyone who knew Pedro also knew that he had social anxiety so it must've taken a lot out of him to even ask you out

your heart raced, “yea- yes, I'll go for a drink with you.” you smiled, but if you were being honest you were really nervous too. What exactly did he see in you? Sure you were kind and respectful, but that's how you were with everyone. Pedro felt way out of your league to even grasp the idea of flirting with him, I mean come on. Who would even think about flirting with an A-list celebrity, especially someone way way WAY younger than he was and someone who wasn’t on any level to him.

he had a huge smile on his face, he seemed so content. “Great, should I get your number while I’m at it?” He pulled out his phone and handed it to you. You slightly grazed his hand when he did and it caught you by surprise.

His hands were so big, and you didn’t realize till just then how much of a height difference you two had.

You put your name and number, your hands were trembling a bit as you did so.

“here you go. so…when should I expect that drink?” you tried being coy to play off the fact that you were actually freaking out.

he smiled and laughed, “what about tonight then?”

that was quick

“oh. uhm yeah sure, i get off at 5, would like 8 be okay.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up, wear something nice.”

“Do I not look nice now?” you said sarcastically.

“No no, you always look great, I’d just like to see you in a dress.” He looked at you with so much love, his sweet smile still plastered hard on his face.

You couldn’t help but blush hard.

Has he always looked at me?

“I’ll send you my address then, see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” and he stepped out.

what the fuck were you getting into

~~~~~~~