#I mean obviously the pain itself too but

[deoidesign]

Happy EDS awareness month!

I'm a webcomic artist with EDS. be aware.

EDS affects many parts of my life. I have chronic fatigue, chronic pain, and I need to use a cane! I often find myself ruminating on themes of chronic illness in my work, whether or not I am intending to include them.

I already can't paint anymore, it hurts my hands too much... Anything that requires small details or precise motions will hurt me for days. I have a lot of grief around it. But working digitally allows me to still create!

I animate, I illustrate, I get to tell my stories. I have to go slow, take huge breaks (often against my will) and recover slowly. But, working in this space allows me the grace to do this.

So, I just wanted to share a bit of my experience with my audience, and say thank you for reading my work and supporting me! It means the world to me, and I hope maybe someone in my audience feels a little more seen through me sharing this. It causes me pain, but I love myself; and that includes my disability.

[bouncybongfairy]

Freezer Burn

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Tensions are running high which causes a argument between Zuko and yourself. He bruises the confidence you have in your hunting abilities and reaffirms your fear of being a burden. Wanting to prove otherwise, you go out in the cold to hunt. Feeling guilty about how he treated you, he goes out to find you. The two of you find some innovative ways to keep warm.

Word Count: 2.0k+

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Everyone was having a rough day of travel, even Appa was reaching his limit. It was freezing and the optimism of finding a warm place to sleep was fading in everyone. Anng found a small cave that would work for the night. It was on a small mountain and overlooked an even smaller village. Zuko started making a fire while Katara and yourself set up the tents. Yang and Sokka were already asleep, curled into Appa’s thick fur. You were hungry but so was everyone else. 

“Are we going to be able to hunt for food soon? Or get some water?” you asked. 

“We could but I don’t think the cold would allow us to be out there for long. Not to mention there wouldn’t be any animals out, it's just too cold,” she said. 

“Not to mention you’d barely come home with anything in good weather,” Zuko grumbled, poking at the fire. He’d been making cracks at you all day, at first you could ignore him. Excusing his behavior on fatigue and hunger pains, but now you were taking it personally. 

“You’re not a prince among us, so stop acting like it” you say in hopes of lowering his ego.

“I am the best fighter and hunter, the past two battles you’ve only slowed us down. Maybe if we had a successful kill earlier we wouldn’t be hungry now,” he said. 

“Zuko don’t say that!” Katara snapped. 

All day you’d been beating yourself up over that mistake. Deep down you knew the rest of the group was irritated about you costing them the meal earlier. It just reaffirmed your insecurity. Grabbing your bow and arrows, you start putting your clothes back on while preparing for a hunt. 

“We’re all really tired and yes we may be hungry but you’re not the sole reason for that. Zuko is obviously just grumpy, don’t let his outburst get to you,” she says, grabbing your arm. 

Deep down you wanted to listen and calm down, rest for a while. Your pride however wouldn’t allow you to stop yourself. As you left, you could hear Katara yelling at Zuko to apologize. The feeling of dread bubbled in your stomach, you didn’t want to make anyone worry but your ego was clouding your judgment. Everyone in the group had their own ways of helping and at times you did feel like a burden. Extra weight that Appa had to carry on his back. It wasn’t that you were mad about what Zuko said, you were more frustrated that it was true. At this point it felt like you’d been walking for hours. The snow was coming down hard, without any signs of lightning. Not eating and your lack of rest was starting to get to you. Your stomach felt like it was eating away at itself. Eyes burning and muscles starting to stiffen from the cold penetrating your clothes. You tried not to go too far, knowing you couldn’t carry an animal in the cold that far. But you had to get some distance between you and the cave in order to find any wild game. Finally spotting a young Moose Lion, looking lost and confused, you almost hesitated when readying your bow. After successfully hitting the animal, your body floods with adrenaline. This quickly fades as you realize you’ll have to drag the thing home. Seemingly underestimating the size which caused a struggle when walking back. Even though it was freezing, you’d broken into a sweat. Starting to feel lightheaded, you took a moment to catch your breath. 

Katara was pacing at the entrance of the cave, anxious for your arrival. He wouldn’t admit it, but Zuko was feeling his own regret about how he’d spoken to you. He didn’t mean to let his anger get the best of him, it just sort of happened. 

“I think I should go out to look for her, she could be freezing to death,” she said, starting to get dressed.

“You can’t, it’s a full blown blizzard,” Zuko said, standing up. 

“Well we can’t just leave her to die out there!” Katara snaps, upset that he would even suggest stopping her from leaving. 

“I know, but only a fire bender would have the resources to survive such severe weather. I’ll go,” he said, making the fire sustainable for the time he’d be gone for. 

“Just be careful,” Katara said as he walked into the cold.

Once he felt just how bad it was outside, his guilt intensified. It wasn’t true what he said about you being a burden. He was just feeling insecure about his own place in the group. Simply projecting his inner turmoil onto you. Knowing it pushed you this far was getting to him. He took a deep breath and started following the faint track you left. Even though a fresh layer of snow was now covering the foot prints, it was still enough to follow. At times Zuko would use his fire for warmth and light. Getting desperate, he began calling your name out. Fatigue was starting to affect him as well. He finally thought he saw you, laying against the animal. He assumed you were just pulling the arrow out but when he got closer he noticed you were passed out. He immediately started assessing you, looking around knowing he had to find shelter that was closer than the rest of the group. Using his fire, he melts a coating of snow and ice, covering a small cave. The animal luckily kept you warm while he wasn’t there but he was still worried about your fingers. They had practically no color and your lips were tinted blue. Once he got you inside the cave, next to the fire he created, he brought the animal in. Impressed that you shot it right through the chest. Taking off his outer layers and bundling you up in them. He was relieved to see the color coming back to your fingertips and cheeks. Checking every once in a while to make sure you were getting too close and burning yourself. 

The two of you wouldn’t be able to make the trip back any time soon, so Zuko began skinning and sectioning off the meat. Washing his hands with melted snow he was slowly collecting. As he roasted the meat, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. Your eyelashes were long and the light from the fire was illuminating your face. Sleeping with your lips slightly parted, hair completely unraveled from the tight bun it once was in. After a couple hours, you slowly began to come too. Sitting up rubbing your eyes, Zuko rushes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing the hair out of your face. He grabbed a bowl of water, bringing it to your lips,

“Sit closer to the fire,” he said, helping you sit up fully. Still weak, you were wobbling while you sat criss-crossed. Still shivering a bit because your back was cold, not able to feel the heat from the fire. Zuko notices this and comes to sit behind you, stabilizing and warming you up. He was using a stick to roast the meat he’d prepared from the animal. It smelt really good, and was the only reason you were keeping your eyes open. He brought the stick to your lips but you were too weak to rip a piece off. Trying to bite a small chunk but not having the strength to actually get a bite. He laughs at your attempt and rips a small piece off, bringing it to your mouth. He repeated this a couple times, giving you sips of water in between. Letting you digest, he rests his chin on top of your head and keeps cooking. After eating, you could feel yourself gaining strength and energy. Becoming more aware of your surroundings.

“What happened?” you asked, looking around and noticing it was only you and Zuko. 

“You went out to hunt and passed out. I came looking for you but the storm was too powerful to travel back to camp with you and the kill. So we're camping here for the night,” he explained, adding more wood to the fire. 

That was when you slowly started putting the pieces of your memory back together. You were grateful to be sheltered now, definitely counting your blessings. Noticing that Zuko wasn’t wearing a shirt, you took off what he gave you. He accepted it but didn’t put it on right away, instead just laying it on his neck like a scarf. 

“I’m sorry for egging you on like that, and for not stopping you from leaving,” he said, moving his chin from your head to your collarbone. 

“It was my decision, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. It was my stubbornness that put both of us at risk,” you said. 

“I like that you're stubborn, that you don’t listen to people who underestimate you,” he said.

“I thought you hated me,” you chuckle. 

“I know that’s what I show but it couldn’t be further than the truth,” he spoke softly. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” you asked, moving your back closer against his chest. 

“As mean as I’ve been, you always are so nice and understanding. Even when I don’t deserve it,” he said. 

“Zuko you always deserve it, you’re easy to love,” you say, turning to face him. 

His face was bright red and for the first time you were seeing his vulnerability. Just slightly, like he didn’t want to give too much away. You move his hair out of the way and look at his scar. Although he looked a little embarrassed, he tilted his head so you could get a full look. Without thinking, you started kissing the skin around his eye. He ended up catching your lips with his. Immediately you move so that you’re straddling his lap. His back was pressed against the wall of the cave, your back was facing the fire. Running your fingers through his hair, admiring how soft the strands were. He moaned into your mouth as you pulled and tugged. Rocking your hips against crotch, your stomach tightening after feeling him get hard. You take in a sharp intake of breath and narrow down, focusing on rubbing against his shaft. Zuko’s hips began to buck involuntarily, which led to his taking his pants off. You follow his lead and do the same, also removing your top. Using his hands to rock your hips against his. Partly because he liked spreading your wetness along himself but also enjoying watching your chest bounce. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, you let out a strangled moan. The pleasure was so intense the rocking of your hips was becoming erratic. Seeing you react so intensely to his touch made him go somewhat feral. 

Flipping you over so your back is against the cold ground. He was feverishly kissing your neck and chest, at times making you giggle. He smiled down at you, taking in how beautiful your eyes were in the soft glow of the fire. Your entire body felt like it was burning down to your core. Pulling your knees to your chest, taking the hint he sat up. He was now towering above you, his member laying on your front. Leaking pre-cum onto your lower stomach. He grabs himself, slapping his dick on your pussy. Enjoying the moans and whines coming from your mouth every time he rubbed his tip against your clit. He enjoyed watching you beneath him, desperate for his touch. A relief only he could provide you. Unable to take any more foreplay, he presses into you. Muttering curses as he is overwhelmed by your heat. How tight you felt around him and your moans matching up with his movement made him feel overstimulated. Like he couldn’t slow his heart rate down. Watching as your tits bounced with every thrust, how braindead you were from pleasure. He presses his hands down on your stomach so he could feel this cock pounding in and out of you. The sudden pressure was enough to send you over the edge. Pulling Zuko down and raking your nails down his back, 

“Fuck!” he said it loud, right in your ear. 

His thrusts were unrelenting as he chased his orgasm. Groaning and moaning into your shoulder as he finally came. Rutting into you as he came inside you, pressing himself as close as he could be to you. Petting his hair and whispering encouraging things into his hair. He laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest before covering the two of you with a woven quilt. Giving the fire one last hit before drifting off to sleep with you.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave Boy Danny calls Batman’s costume uncool and the bats lose their minds over it. Also Alfred would totally spoil him in nostalgia. (Maybe by making the batfam let Danny out of the cage…?)

Danny tries his best not to stare at his perceived counterpart or any of the children, convinced he's their dad as a kid. He's not doing an excellent job of it, though, seeing as his eyes flickered around the room against his will.

It's almost as if the more he tries not to stare, the more he glances. It's so weird that Bruce looks precisely what he imagines Dan Phantom would have looked like if he had a human side. Knowing that Bruce and Dan look alike does not settle his nerves.

It makes him feel even more weary of the older man.

He was curious to know if they were the same person because he had made up the name Bruce on the spot since it was the most boring name Danny could think of. Yet, the DNA results showed they were the same person, not due to cloning. He knew what clones' DNA looked like from personal experience.

Especially since Bruce- why did it have to be such a boring, stupid name? Why couldn't he still be named Danny? His own clone kept his name for Pete's sake!- was sending out major Fruitloop vibes.

Not only was he rich with a secret lab underneath his house and dressed in a weird bat costume, but oh no, Bruce ate pizza with a fork and a knife.

Danny's eyes flicker over to the man just as he cuts another piece of his pepperoni pizza without a single movement wasted. He doesn't even look like he's doing it as a joke- no, the man is regal, dabbing his mouth with a napkin every third bite.

What a freak. Danny thinks, folding his pizza slice in half so he can stuff most of it in his mouth in one giant bite. Two of the teenagers gasped as though they just witnessed a natural disaster.

"Philistine." Damian- his counterpart's youngest- hisses. He's glaring at Danny, obviously trying to insult him, but Danny has dealt with bullies all his life. The kid is far too polite in his insults. Damian wouldn't last a day in public schools' playgrounds, that's for sure.

Danny looks him dead in the eye, still chewing, eyes wide and earnest, and responds with a cheerful "Gesundheit."

Damian's face clouds over in disgust. "Do you even know what that means?"

"Philistine is an uncultured person who is hostile or indifferent to the arts." Danny recites without missing a beat. He gives the other boy a pitying frown. "If you don't know the definitions of words, maybe you shouldn't use them. Might get you in trouble one day"

Damian throws a knife at him with a cry of outrage. Danny is not ready for said knife, but his ghost reflections have him moving to the right just in time for the blade to miss his head and impale itself on the back chair of his seat.

It does, however, nick his neck a little. Danny lets out what he hopes is an appropriate scream in response to the pain. He doesn't want them to know about his real name, much less his powers, but it's hard to have proper reaction times when he could already feel his healing ability numb the pain seconds after it happens.

It felt like a small prick of a sticker while walking barefooted in the grass- quick and sharp but over quickly.

Danny blinks at the table for a solid three seconds, before tilting his head as far back as it could go in his seat and letting out an even monotone cry of "aahhhhhhhhhh!"

He wishes he was better under pressure because it felt like he was attempting to impersonate a toad.

"Young Master Bruce!" Alfred- the butler that raised Bruce in their world? So his counter-parts foster dad?- cries out in alarm. He springs up from his seat, rounding the table to be at his side in seats. "My dear boy, are you alright? Does it hurt? Shall I bring the medical kit?"

Danny stops his monotone cry to blink up at the man. "I'm okay. I'm just dramatic."

Alfred's face spams before it settles in a nostalgic, fond expression. "Oh, the memories."

"Leaping Lizards, Batman," Tim whispers, gripping his fork so hard it's bending. He has a manic glint in his eye, with a smile so wide it's splitting his face in two. "Is this what Bruce was like at our age?"

"Yes, Master Bruce did have a very similar personality to our guest".

"I thought Ollie was kidding when he said Bruce was the weirdest kid in school," Dick speaks up, his face reflecting massive glee. "Does this mean it's also true he would tell people he would date them if they could beat him in a fight?"

"Yes. Alfred told me that was the only way I would be allowed to date before eighteen," Bruce speaks up, a hint of a blush appearing on his cheekbones. "I was in a lot of fights."

Alfred laughs, looking far too grandfatherly when he nods. "I would get a call from Gotham Acadamy almost every other day because Master Bruce had fought off would-be suitors. It's why no one bats an eye at his play-boy persona."

"You know what," Jason speaks up, looking thoughtful. "This explains everything about your love life, to be honest."

"Oh, so when you beat up annoying guys hitting on you, it's okay, but when I do it, it's unfair since I have training," Steph complains, making air quotes on the word training.

Bruce frowns at her. "When I was a teenager, I didn't have any of my Bat training, just what Alfred taught me."

"Alfred, the ex-British Secret Service, bulter." She counters.

"Alfred, the ex-medic in the Royal Air Force, bulter," Duke cuts in.

"Alfred, the ex-SAS Commander, Bulter," Dick tasks on with a smile

"Alfred, the ex-Spy Master for the Royal Crown, bulter," Cass cheerfully says.

"Ancients, those poor teenagers," Danny whispers, staring at Alfred in newfound respect and fear. "Did they even have a chance?"

"No, those riff-raff did not" Alfred smiles turning to the older version of Danny. "I do believe Master Bruce once threw Mr.Queen into a dumpster and left him there overnight?"

"I did. Oliver wouldn't accept no as an answer, so I put him in time-out." Bruce responds with a shrug. "If he hadn't been such a crybaby about the black eye, maybe I would have taken him up on his offer to see a movie."

Danny can't believe this. He points an accusing finger at Bruce with an unhinged look of confusion. "You had everyone falling over themselves in a world where bi-sexuality is common, mind you, and you choose to wear the lame-ass weird bat costume by choice? You chose to be uncool when you could have been in the It-Crowd!?"

The Wayne kids choked on their spit as Bruce gaped at him.

"Brucie, you are a riot!" Jason gasps, causing Danny to frown.

"Brucie?"

"Yeah, since there are two of you, I thought calling the smaller one Brucie would make it easier to tell you apart." Jason sighs wiping a tear out of his eye. Next to him, Dick is still howling with laughter.

Danny needs to keep calm and tell them he would not respond to the name Brucie. Instead, he panics and says, "I actually go by Brucie back home. I'm so surprised you know the nickname!"

He needs to get the fuck out of here.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Fix You (Azriel x healer!reader)

summary: Azriel falls for the healer and finds new random reasons to see her, but he never let’s her help when he’s truly hurt.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: warnings: mentions injuries and blood

Never in a million years would you have dreamed of such an opportunity presenting itself to you, but after the battle of Velaris, your healing magic became rather well known among the locals. Eventually, word of your abilities reached the high lord, and he requested to meet with you. Now, ten months later, you are learning about tonics, salves, the anatomy of illyrian wings, and so much more to use along side your magic.

“One last thing. Rhysand said that Azriel is requesting assistance. Could you go tend to his injuries before you go home?”

You hide your laugh and agree to go. This is the fifth time this month that Azriel has requested a healer. It would make sense that the spymaster of the night court would need healing after missions, but he never asks for help with that. Most recently, he came by the infirmary to ask you for a cream that will help with sore muscles. Sometimes he asks for healing after training when Cassian roughs him up a bit too much, but even then, its minor injuries. One time he even used Cassian as an excuse, claiming the general needed some medicine for a cold, but later that day Cassian seemed perfectly fine to you.

Your friends think Azriel must have a crush on you and that’s why he always seeks you out, but that’s crazy. And besides, you heard a rumor that he has feelings for the high lady’s sister, Elain. But who could blame him, she's perfect.

You arrive at the House of Wind and head for the shadowsinger’s room. The house was quiet, meaning Cassian and Nesta must be gone. As you walk towards his room, you see a shadow dart across the floor, brushing against your ankle as it flies by and making you giggle. Before you can even knock, Azriel opens his door, apparently alerted by the shadow.

“Good evening. You requested a healer?” He nods and opens the door wider to invite you in and sits on the corner of his bed.

“Cassian accidentally cut me with his sword when we were sparring this morning. The skin has healed, but it’s still hurting. I figured you could use some of that fancy healing magic on it so I’m not slacking at training tomorrow.” He extends his arm, and just like he said, theres a jagged pink scar running up the length of his tan, muscular forearm.

You agree and sit next to him, taking hold of his arm and placing your hand over the scar. A warm sensation spreads from your palm to his arm, and moments later, the raised scar is nothing more than a faint line. You hold on for a few moments longer than necessary, your eyes fixated on his hands. There was something you found so beautiful and alluring about the scars, you didn’t even notice your fingertips slowly trailing towards his hands. As soon as your fingertips brush against the edge of the scarred skin, Azriel jerks his arm away and stands up.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ you trail off.

“It’s fine.” He snaps, avoiding your gaze to look at the wall behind you. “Thanks for the help.” His voice is softer now, but you can tell he’s upset. You hesitate, trying to figure out how to resolve this uncomfortable situation, but inevitably, you decide it’s best to leave.

“Happy to help. Have a good night.” You leave quickly, trying to avoid making things more awkward.

The entire way home, you berate yourself for doing something so foolish. One of the first things you learned about healing is to not make your patient more uncomfortable when you heal them. And there you were, touching something that obviously would make him uncomfortable. You don’t know the details about how his hands got so scarred, but with his fae healing, it can’t have been pretty. It reminds you of a patient you had a few years back with similar burns. You were constantly making cream to soothe the residual pain for them. You wonder if Azriel’s hands still hurt from time to time…

———

Azriel’s POV

“Do you plan to injure yourself again during training today, brother?” Cassian teases. “I see yesterday’s cut has healed already. Did a certain healer come by your room last night?”

“Shut up. It doesn’t matter.” I say gruffly and continue eating my breakfast.

“Why won’t you just ask her out?” He speaks with a mouth full of food, earning an annoyed look from Nesta.

“Because there’s no way that someone like her… it doesn’t matter. I’m over her now. Moving on.” I keep my gaze locked on the plate in front of me.

Last night, I tried to work up the courage to say something—anything, really. But when she touched me and I felt that magic run through me, I couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful she looked. I can’t help but remember the feeling of her hands on me, warm and comforting. And then, when she touched my hand, every horrible thought and insecurity ran through my head. How could someone so perfect ever want to be with someone so… damaged?

That’s also why I never seek her out when I return from missions. I don’t want her to see who I really am when I leave Velaris. One look at me with enemy blood on my hands and my own blood on my body, and she will run scared just like everyone else does. I’m just not ready for that rejection yet.

“I don’t believe that for a damn second, Az. You’re just scared. Take a chance, it could work out.” Nesta tries to be supportive, but she doesn’t get it. None of my friends do. I pretend to agree, but only to end the conversation quicker and move on to a new topic. Cassian gives a skeptical look, but moves on to discussing the evening’s plans.

———

Your POV

Two weeks pass, and you haven’t seen or heard from Azriel. It shouldn’t bother you this much, but you can’t help but miss his occasional visits, the way his shadows swirl around your ankles, the sound of his voice, the way he towers over you. Maybe you should find a reason to visit him. After all, he’s spent months coming up with ridiculous reasons to see you, you can do the same, right?

You look around your workstation at the various creams, tonics, and salves, eventually finding some that he would maybe find useful. Heading to the House of Wind, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous.

When you arrive, you see the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, walking through the foyer. “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me find Azriel. I have something for him.” You try to sound confident, but her smirk tells you she sees right through you.

“He’s at the training ring. The Valkyries and I just finished training, so it’s probably just him and Cassian up there.” You thank her and head that way.

When you arrive at the training ring, you are immediately stopped in your tracks by the sight of Azriel and Cassian sparring. You had always known the general had a nice body; you had healed it several times before. But Azriel… you have never seen such a glorious sight. The way the corded muscles of his back ripple when he moves and the way his wings, which were much larger than Cassian’s, were spread wide, you couldn’t help but stare. Eventually, Cassian notices you. He smirked, and then immediately moved to disarm Azriel, nicking him with the tip of the blade.

“What the hell, Cass? Why did you-“ Azriel turns and sees you. He turns back to Cassian, who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“Good thing your favorite healer is here to help.” You can’t help but blush at his words. Did Azriel talk about you to Cassian? “I’ll leave you two to it.” He saunters off, leaving you alone with Azriel. Azriel stands quietly for a moment, just staring at you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the silence is killing you, and it’s taking all of your strength to not stare at the sweat dripping down his muscular body.

“I brought you something. You had mentioned once that you get headaches a lot. I have this tonic that can help with that. I figured I would bring it by.” You awkwardly fumble through your bag for the bottle, handing it to him. He looks at the bottle, then at you, a confused expression on his face. “Did you want me to help with that cut or…” you trail off, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks. And thanks for the tonic. I’ll be sure to try it next time I get a headache.” He sits on a nearby bench, and you sit next to him. Reaching towards the cut, you realize you need to avoid what happened last time and ask for permission to touch him.

“May I?” He nods, and you place your hand over the small cut on his jaw. You feel his shadows swirling around your hand, almost curious about your actions. Your fingers trail over his sharp jaw line in admiration. “All done.” You stand and step away, waiting to see if he will say anything. You were about to leave, but you apparently can’t leave well enough alone, so you dig through your bag again.

“I have this other stuff you might want.” You find the soothing cream. “I had a patient a few years ago with burns similar to yours. She told me her scars would hurt occasionally, so I would make this cream for her. I don’t know if that happens to you as well, but if you want it, it’s yours.” You reach out to hand him the cream, but he just stares at you.

After a few moments, you awkwardly set it on the bench next to him. “Okay then. I’ll see you around.” You turn to leave, eager to end this train wreck of an interaction. You hurried out so quickly, that you didn’t hear the faint “thank you” coming from Azriel.

———

Several days pass without seeing Azriel. Gods, you were definitely so out of line with the cream. He probably doesn’t like to talk about the scars. You shouldn’t have gone to find him in the first place. He was obviously avoiding you. The bell above the door rings, indicating a patient has entered.

“One moment!” You call from the back of the workstation. When you make your way to the front room, you are surprised to see Azriel.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly.

“I’m sorry for my rude behavior the other day. I didn’t know how to respond to your kind gesture. No one has ever…” he trails off, setting the empty container of hand cream on the counter. “It helped a lot. I was wondering if you had any more?” Your face lights up, causing him to smile as well.

“Of course! Wait right here, I’ll go grab it.” You rush excitedly to the storeroom. It was always such a wonderful feeling to help a patient feel better, but having been right about this made you feel so happy. You return with three containers of cream. “This one is the same as the one I gave you. This one is infused with lavender. And this one is infused with eucalyptus.” You explain excitedly. He chuckles at your eagerness.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know which smell I like best.” He smiles softly. “And thank you for before. For noticing. No one has ever taken notice like that before. People usually don’t like to even look at my hands, nonetheless, ask about it.” You blush.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get the burns? It may help me formulate a more customized soothing cream for you in the future if I know how you got them. Only if you’re comfortable sharing.” Azriel sucks in a deep breath and looks at his hands.

“The details are… unpleasant.“ He hesitates. “Oil was poured over my hands and lit on fire. My bro-“ he pauses. “The people who did this ensured that I healed as they burned, so that the scarring was worse. Now I’m stuck with these ugly scars.” You try to hold back the tears in your eyes. How could somebody be so cruel and vicious as to do that to someone? “The pain is usually a sharp ache around my knuckles and fingers, if that helps.” He mutters quietly, avoiding your gaze. You hesitantly reach for his hand. He looks surprised by this, but lets you. You hold his large hand in both of yours and look deep into his eyes.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. No one deserves such treatment. And your scars are not ugly, they represent what you have overcome.” Azriel blushes. A small shadow glides over your hands as you hold his, pulling a giggle from you. “The shadows are kinda cute.”

Azriel looks at you with surprise again. “Most people are afraid of them.” You watch a shadow weave between your fingers, letting go of Azriel’s hand to play with the shadow.

The two of you talk for a while longer before he eventually leaves. A smile stays on your face for the rest of the evening.

———

A week later.

You’re awoken late in the night by a chilly feeling across your skin. Assuming you forgot to shut your window, you groggily open your eyes to stand, but when you do, you see several shadows swirling around you and your room.

Panic immediately sets in. You have never seen Azriel’s shadows move in such a way, almost frantic. And the shadowsinger himself is nowhere near Velaris, supposedly on a mission, according to what Cassian said days ago. The shadows swirl around you, tugging you to stand. You throw on your coat and follow the shadows, praying to the gods that you don’t find what you think you will.

Upon arrival at the House of Wind, you hear panicked voices and yelling. You rush towards the commotion, finding a bloody mess when you arrive. You run towards Cassian and Nesta, trying to see what’s wrong, but when you look down, you see it.

Azriel. Covered in blood. Several arrows sticking out of his abdomen and wings, reeking of faebane. You immediately crouch and begin to inspect the damage.

“Cauldron, what happened? How long has he been hurt? Where is Madja?” You fire off a string of questions, not bothering to wait for an answer. Azriel groans in pain, barely conscious, with his eyes shut.

“He just winnowed here like this. We don’t know what happened, he pretty much passed out as soon as he got here.” Cassian looks at you nervously. “I tried to pull one of the arrows out, but the wounds won’t heal. The arrows are dipped in faebane.”

“Go get a bucket of water, a washcloth, and bandages.” You order to no one in particular before assessing the best plan for removal. When Nesta returns with the materials, you begin to remove the first arrow from his abdomen. Luckily, it didn’t hit any vital organs. When the arrow finally is removed, Azriel yells in pain.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just stay still and it will be over soon.” You try your best to use a soothing voice, but the shakiness is still evident. You get the second arrow out of his abdomen and begin to clean the wounds, working your healing magic as you go. Cassian and Nesta are standing over you, watching nervously, which only makes you more anxious.

“I got the worst of the injuries handled, he’s going to be fine. I still need to work on his wings, which may take a while and won’t be pretty. You two may want to go for now.” You say, not looking away from Azriel. Cassian and Nesta reluctantly leave, promising to return with the others in a bit.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.” You warn Azriel, who’s still unconscious, while you grip the arrow in his upper left wing and work to remove it. As soon as the arrow moves slightly through his wing, his eyes open wide and he howls in pain. He looks at you, just now noticing that it’s you tending to his injuries, and looks panicked.

“Wh-what… how are you here?” He rasps, wincing as the arrow is fully removed. He tries to sit up, but you force him to remain laying down.

“Your shadows found me. I figured you sent them.”

“No. They’re supposed to find Madja or Feyre if I get badly injured. I don’t know why they went to you.” He says gruffly. You try not to get upset by his words as you begin to stitch and heal the wound. Something about his demeanor is vastly different from how he usually acts, colder even.

"Well, you got me instead. Sorry to disappoint.” You mutter, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. You can tell he wants to say something else, but as soon as you grab ahold of the second arrow, all he can manage is groans and curses.

After you remove the third and final arrow, Azriel speaks. “You’re not supposed to be the one who handles my major injuries.” You can’t hide the pain in your eyes, so you look away to focus on working your healing magic on the final wound and bandaging it.

“I can handle more than basic tonics and minor injuries, you know.” You say quietly, cleaning away some of the blood with a washcloth. You gather the bloodied cloths and arrows, moving quickly to dispose of them.

“I know you can. I just don’t want-“ his words are cut short by the high lord rushing in, immediately requesting a status update. Azriel didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was about to say. He doesn’t want you here. You turn from Azriel to give Rhysand a full briefing on the injuries and the expected recovery process. After calming a bit, he begins to help Azriel up and to his room.

“It looks like you’re in good hands. I’m going to go update Madja on the situation so she can manage your recovery.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. Before he can say anything else, you’re gone.

———

You avoid Azriel for a couple weeks. Every time he tries to come to the infirmary, you send another healer to take care of him. You couldn’t help asking Madja how his recovery was progressing, but she refused to tell you, stating that you were perfectly capable of asking him yourself. You know that you aren’t as skilled as Madja in some aspects of being a healer, but you never thought that Azriel would doubt your abilities. You guess that’s why he never asked for your help after missions. Maybe those months of ridiculous requests were just a joke to him, something to laugh about with his friends.

The sun goes down, signaling that it’s time for you to head home. You say goodbye to Madja and leave out the front door.

“Y/n.” You immediately turn toward the voice. Waiting by the door, you find Azriel. You look him up and down, assessing for injuries and observing his healing progress. The scars on his wings are only faint marks now.

“You look like you’re healing well. If you need medical attention, I suggest asking a more skilled healer, like Madja.” You say bitterly, walking past him. He sighs heavily.

“I didn’t mean to upset you that night. You weren’t supposed to see me like that.” He follows behind you, catching up quickly due to his long legs.

"Yes, you made that very clear. You didn’t want me there, you don’t trust me to handle your manor healing. I heard you loud and clear.” You refuse to look at him.

"No, that’s not-“ You turn down a side road suddenly, trying to evade him. “I know you can handle healing my more serious injuries, I just didn’t want you there.” You stop and stare at him, slightly in disbelief at his words. Is he really this cruel, or is he just really this bad at speaking to people? He reads your expression and backtracks.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want you around, I just don’t want you there.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Gods, I’m just making this worse. Can I start over?” You don’t respond, but he takes the fact that you aren’t walking away as a yes.

“I didn’t want you to handle my major injuries because, when I’m focused on my missions, I am a completely different person. I hate who I am outside of this city. I hate what I have to do, but I do it to protect my court and protect my family. When I get back, it sometimes takes me a while to get back to normal. I didn’t want you to see me like that, so I wouldn’t scare you off. It seems I managed to do that anyway, so I guess I was right to stay away.” You finally look at him. Who treated him so poorly to make him think so low of himself?

You take a step closer to him and look into his eyes. “I wasn’t scared of you that night. I was scared that you could’ve died. I was scared of the way you pushed me away. But never of you. I’ve healed fae from all over with horrible histories, grusome wounds, and severe PTSD. You’re job is hard, but you shouldn’t handle that burden alone.”

“You spend enough of your time fixing people, I don’t want to be another person you feel like you need to fix.” He says in a self loathing tone.

“You aren’t broken, Azriel. You don’t need fixing, just support.” You take his hand. “Let me be there for you. Let me be your friend. Please.” He stares at your hand holding his for a few moments.

“What if I don’t want you as my friend?” You frown, and he immediately realizes how that must have come across as you attempt to pull your hand away. He tightens his grip on your hand. “What I mean is, will you go to dinner with me? Like, on a date?” You look at him surprised, blushing hard. “Cmon, y/n. I thought I was pretty obvious that I have feelings for you with my dozens of ridiculous injuries and requests.” He chuckles.

“I would love to get dinner, Azriel.” He gives you a wide smile. The two of you begin to walk side by side down the street. After a few moments of silence, Azriel speaks.

“Now that you’re no longer mad at me, can I have more of that soothing cream? I’ve been out for like a week, but I’ve been too afraid to ask you for more.” You laugh.

“Of course you can.”

Have a great weekend everyone!!

[libraryofgage]

Pirate/Mermaid Steddie One

There is way more mermaid culture world-building than I intended, but that's the fun part lmao

This part discusses injuries, has a mention of mutilation in passing, and involves stitching up a large wound. Nothing is graphic, but there are some descriptions of pain

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

----

There were a few things Eddie expected from this raid. Gold, of course. Supplies like food, obviously. Some new weapons, surely.

A fucking mermaid? Nowhere near that list of expected things.

And yet, here he stands in the doorway of the raided ship captain's cabin, caught in a staring contest with a merman that's definitely seen better days.

He's stuck in a tiny wooden tub, his tail forced against his chest as the rest of it flops over the edge and trails the floor. His blue-and-green with inexplicable hints of orange scales are dull, too dull, and Eddie is trying really hard to control the sheer rage he feels at the jagged cut that drags down the middle of the tail and through the fin at the bottom. The edges of the wound have crusted over, but it still looks painful, and Eddie knows it was meant to keep the merman from using his tail to escape.

Eddie takes a step into the cabin, ready to just scoop the merman up and take him back to his ship. But he stops when the merman tenses, his entire body somehow becoming more rigid. His hands on the edge of the tub tighten, his sharp nails digging into the slowly rotting wood. He's staring at Eddie like he's some new threat, which seriously is not gonna help with the whole "take the gorgeous merman with incredible hair and alluring brown eyes back to his ship and nurse him back to health" thing.

Eddie freezes and holds his hands up. "Sorry," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The merman doesn't relax much, but his nails are no longer digging into the wood. Eddie figures that's a tiny win.

"I'm Captain Eddie of the Corroded Coffin. We didn't expect to find you here, sweetheart."

The nickname just slips out, an unthinking attempt to butter the merman up and an admission of his own thoughts. The merman's eyes narrow, slowly looking Eddie over as though sizing him up.

Eddie lets him, perfectly content with standing still if it means the merman will give him even one iota more of his trust. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he says, nodding to the tub. "Would you like some help?"

The merman relaxes a little more, and Eddie has no clue what he did to cause that. Before he can think too much about it, the merman points to a dresser on the other side of the room, looking at Eddie expectantly.

"You want something from there?"

The merman nods, which tells Eddie he at least understands human language. That doesn't give him any idea if the merman can speak it, though.

He walks over to the dresser and looks at the merman, pointing to each drawer in turn until the merman nods. The fourth drawer is, apparently, the correct one. When Eddie opens it, he finds a small treasure trove. It must be a collection of trophies from the ship captain's previous raids.

A quick glance reveals a gold crown with rubies, several diamond rings, a few silver bracelets with various gemstones along the bands, and a pearl and seashell necklace thrown on top. Eddie knows the merman probably wants that necklace most, but he can't help thinking of a rumor that mermaids like shiny things.

The drawer is full of shiny things.

He hesitates for less than a second before pulling out the entire drawer itself and turning around. "I'm not sure what you want from here," he lies, smiling apologetically at the merman. "Can I come close enough to show you?"

The merman stares at him before slowly nodding once, suspicion practically radiating off of him. Eddie flashes a more genuine smile and slowly approaches, giving the merman enough time to reject his presence. When he's a few steps away, Eddie crouches and tilts the drawer so the merman can see what's inside.

Immediately, the merman reaches out and snatches the pearl and seashell necklace. The gills on the side of his neck flutter slightly as he puts it on, and Eddie wonders if that's a sign of relief. "Was that everything you wanted?" he asks.

The merman glances at him, one hand still lingering on the necklace. He glances down at the drawer again, seeming to argue with himself before reaching out and removing the crown and every bracelet. He carefully slips the bracelets on and clutches the crown in his hands.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks, his tone indulgent. It must be reassuring, though, because the merman looks at him with curiosity more than anything else. It's like he's trying to figure out what he can get away with.

A few seconds pass before the merman glances down at the drawer. His gaze lingers at the edges, and Eddie starts to wonder what could possibly be there when the merman points at one of his rings.

Eddie blinks, following the merman's finger to a chunky ring. It's shaped like a bat with emeralds for eyes and diamonds for teeth. It's one of Eddie's favorites; he found it on his first raid, took it right off the captain's hand himself. Nobody has ever dared ask to touch it, let alone have it.

Without a second thought, Eddie puts the drawer down, slips the ring off his finger, and offers it to the merman. It sits in the palm of his hand, meaning they'd have to touch if the merman really wants it that badly.

Slowly, the merman reaches for the ring, his nails tickling against Eddie's palm as he takes it. From the light brush against Eddie's fingers, the merman's skin is cool, exactly like jumping into the ocean on a hot day.

----

Steve is a firm believer in the power of small comforts, especially as it relates to the growth of his guppies. Dustin has long outgrown his baby tail belt, but he still wraps it around his wrist every morning. El and Will no longer need the seaweed and coral dolls Steve made for them when they were barely able to swim a straight line, but they still tuck them in every night.

So, when the human (Eddie, Steve reminds himself) offers up a drawer filled with shiny jewelry, Steve doesn't hold himself back. The bracelets make him feel grounded, the crown gives him something to clutch without the risk of breaking it, and the ring...

Well, the ring was more to see if Eddie's actions would match his tone. And because Steve thought it was fascinatingly grotesque. What kind of creature would have wings without feathers? Sure, the gulls he sometimes sees near the surface are confusing, but the ring depicts something even further beyond his imagination. What's up with the sharp teeth? Why must the eyes be green? Does it know it's a freak of nature?

Anyway, the jewelry helps. Steve uses it to distract himself from the sheer agony screaming from his tail when Eddie lifts him out of the cramped tub. He thinks about which bracelet he'll give to which guppy (Robin will get the crown) when the edges of his tailfin graze against Eddie's legs as he confidently walks across a plank connecting the two ships. He closely studies the featherless wings on the ring to avoid thinking about what's to come when Eddie sets him down on a large, surprisingly comfortable bed in another private cabin and starts gathering a needle and thread.

There's not much left to distract him when Eddie kneels next to the bed and looks up at him, his eyes reminding Steve of his guppies when they've done something bad and need him to clean up the mess.

"This is gonna hurt," Eddie tells him, his voice soft and gentle and full of regret as he grabs a bottle from the table next to the bed.

The liquid inside is clear, and Steve would think it was water if his nose hadn't been hit with such an astringent scent when Eddie opened it. Before he can fully process the smell, Eddie tips the bottle and pours the liquid onto Steve's tail.

An involuntary screech rips out of his throat, a burning sensation clawing along the cut and making his scales buzz. Without thinking, Steve grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks it away, his lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals sharp teeth. Despite the physical pain, Steve thinks the worst part is that he let himself get distracted by small comforts and warm brown eyes and Eddie's soft voice.

He should know better.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, quickly dropping the now-empty bottle to the floor. It cracks but doesn't break, and he looks up at Steve. "I should've explained that better. Holy fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I had to clean it. If I sewed it up without doing so, it might get infected."

Steve narrows his eyes, his grip tightening briefly as he studies Eddie's face. He seems genuinely apologetic, and Steve understands his intentions once he's processed Eddie's words. Steve had to do something similar when Mike and Lucas bothered a shark too much. Their wounds weren't nearly as bad as Steve's, but they'd still cried and shouted when Steve and Robin had to pull teeth and bits of coral out of their wounds before wrapping them in seaweed.

"I'm done with that part, though," Eddie says, his voice practically desperate for Steve to understand. "You can squeeze my shoulder or something while I sew it up."

A few seconds pass before Steve nods once, slowly letting go of Eddie's wrist. As Eddie starts threading the needle, Steve places his hand on his shoulder, bracing himself for the upcoming pain by squeezing the crown in his other hand.

Eddie takes a deep breath as he glances up at Steve. He licks his lips, looking back at the top of the cut. "Okay, I'm starting now," he says, waiting long enough to see Steve nod before starting the first stitch.

The alcohol hurt. The stitching is a fucking bitch. But, honestly, none of it is as bad as when that first disgusting human dragged a dagger through Steve's tail. He still hisses, gripping Eddie's shoulder tighter and unable to stop his nails from digging into his skin. Despite how it must hurt, Eddie doesn't flinch, and Steve feels a little better.

"You know," Eddie says, mostly focused on keeping his hand steady and his stitches even, "I wish I knew your name. I can't keep calling you sweetheart."

He could. Steve wouldn't mind it. But he also knows it isn't entirely fair that Eddie doesn't know he can speak. They'll need to be able to talk, Steve thinks, if they're going to be around each other for a while longer.

And Eddie has been kind enough that Steve wouldn't mind being around him for however long it takes his tail to heal.

"Steve," he says.

To his credit, Eddie doesn't drop the needle. He does tense for a moment, his hand pausing as he looks up. "What?" he asks.

"My name. It's Steve."

"You can talk."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Eddie hums, looking back at the cut as he starts stitching again. "You didn't say anything before," Eddie says.

"The last human who saw me mutilated my tail," Steve replies.

"Fair. Is, uh, is your name really Steve?"

"That's the closest translation to your language."

"What's your name in your language?"

Steve hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. He feels his gills flutter, trying to create the bubble pattern that accompanies his name as he lets out a rhythmic series of squeaks and clicks with a short hiss at the end.

A few seconds pass after he's done. And then Eddie nods once and says, "Steve it is. How'd you get caught, Stevie?"

Ignoring the slight urge to point out that Eddie said his name wrong, Steve frowns slightly. "One of my guppies got caught in that ship's net. I got them out but was caught myself."

"One of your...guppies?"

"Yes. You would call them...children, I think?"

Eddie has nearly reached the middle of Steve's tail by now, and his hand falters once more. "Children? Aren't you...a little young?"

Steve bristles, glaring at Eddie. He's heard that same question plenty of times from members of other pods before, and he's tired of it. "What does it matter if they are happy and healthy?" he asks.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers, glancing up at Steve. There's something he can't quite read in Eddie's eyes. "Do you raise them alone?"

"What? No, of course not. My partner, Robin, raises them with me. We have seven guppies, with an eighth on the way."

"An eighth?!" Eddie asks, sounding strained as he pauses his stitching once more to look up at Steve. "Shit, man, shouldn't you give Robin a break?"

Steve blinks, tilting his head slightly. "Why would she need a break?" he asks.

"She's already popped out seven!"

Suddenly, Steve realizes what the disconnect is. He blinks once more and dissolves into laughter. "Oh!" he says, the exclamation broken by a giggle as he tries to calm himself down. "No, no, she is my partner, not my mate. Besides, she doesn't even like mermen."

Eddie seems to relax at Steve's explanation, his shoulders dropping and his voice significantly lighter as he starts stitching again and says, "Oh, I see. Then whose kids are they?"

"Technically, they belong to the pod," Steve explains, gritting his teeth as Eddie reaches the tailfin. He feels warm all over, his nerves jumping and his scales feeling half-ready to just fall off. "Each pod has at least two caretakers. Mates have a guppy and let caretakers raise them while they focus on their own roles within the pod."

"Do you like being a caretaker?"

"Yeah," Steve says, managing a shaky smile despite the tugging on his tailfin and Eddie's fingers pressing against his scales. "They're my guppies. I'd drain the oceans for them."

"And, uh, what about your mate? Do they mind you being so...devoted to the guppies?"

It's not at all subtle, but Steve finds it oddly endearing nonetheless. He slowly exhales, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Eddie's shoulder. "I don't have one."

Just like before, Eddie seems to relax some at the answer. He also finishes stitching, tying off the thread with a secure knot before carefully cutting away the excess. "Well, uh, we'll get you healed up and back to your guppies as soon as possible," he says, looking up at Steve.

"It needs to be wrapped in kelp. And, uh, I'll need a tub. You know, with seawater."

Eddie nods along, flashing a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Stevie, I'll get you anything you want," he promises.

"Anything?" Steve asks, leaning forward some as he tilts his head.

"I already gave you my favorite ring, sweetheart."

Steve glances down at said ring, wondering what about it could possibly make it Eddie's favorite. He can't immediately figure it out, but that doesn't change the sweet warmth and anticipation for the time he'll spend with Eddie that he suddenly feels.

[goobtopia]

crime and punishment [farleigh start]

!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

based on this request

summary: after a dinner party at saltburn you confront your long time friend, farleigh, about his odd behavior surrounding felix’s new friend from oxford.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, f!reader, (kinda) p*rn without plot, kissing, praise kink, mentions of p in v sex, thigh riding, nipple play, dom!farleigh, wealthy reader, mention of bullying, swearing, farleigh is both mean and whiny you’ve been warned

[requests are open]

☆ masterlist ☆

-

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or keep giving me the silent treatment?” You crossed your arms in the entryway of Farleigh’s room. He refused to look up from his Dostoevsky summer reading or give you any kind of acknowledgment.

You sighed, finally entering the room so you could sit at the edge of his bed making sure to shut the door behind you. With you facing him and your legs tucked under your body, he obviously couldn’t focus on the passage enough to continue reading so he sighed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This was classic Farleigh, so upset or so angry that he’d just shut it down instead. It was something of a compliment you guessed, when Farleigh didn’t care to hurt anyone with his words informed by his loathing his insults were quick and harsh. I once watched him send Gavey crying in the quad after spilling coffee on his lecture notes and heard he was in and out of the school counseler’s office after that.

“If this is about earlier…” You trailed off, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head for Farleigh and you jumped when his hard cover book made a deafening crack as it closed. “No, why would I be upset about earlier? It’s not like everyone has been up Oliver’s ass all semester, so much so that you take his side and make me look like a jackass in front of everybody.” He was calm, spoke in a sickly sweet voice as the book was discarded near his pillows.

You never pulled punches with Farleigh, he knew this, which is why he shouldn’t have been so surprised when you defended your actions, “Farleigh you made yourself look like an ass, like when everyone stopped laughing because it was literally painful to watch.” He ran a hand over his khaki colored corduroy pants, his fingers adorned with expensive silver rings, as he rested his ear against his shoulder. A sign he was licking his wounds after you walked out to check on Oliver leaving him alone to sing the rest of his shitty song.

“You get so… prideful around him, like you’re trying to prove something. I’ve never seen you like this.” The way Farleigh kept attacking Oliver was far from his usual pettiness, no Farleigh was always quick but even the butt of his jokes would find themselves laughing about it eventually. Here it was like he was taking everything just a step too far, you didn’t understand how Oliver got under his skin so badly.

Sure, he didn’t come from your world but it wasn’t like he was being a nuisance, there was no reason in your mind to embarrass him by picking a song for him that Farleigh was sure Oliver didn’t know. “Well, he’s a fucking creep. He’s sneaking around with Venetia and he’s cozying up to you lately, he had you using his lap as a couch coushin in there.” He looked disgusted by the thought.

You hadn’t thought anything of it honestly, if Venetia was settled in her brother’s lap in a platonic fashion you figured it was all in the spirit of the night. The closeness and camaraderie we found amongst yourselves in these nights, that was like tradition to you. “Farleigh…” You trailed in a tone reeking of disappointment in one of your best friends, “What? You don’t think so?” He quipped.

Your silence spoke for itself and he scoffed, “Well then you’re a fucking idiot.” Your voice, while not loud, cut through the air like a knife, “Hey. You do not speak to me like that.” You pointed your finger, straightening your back out. Next thing you know he’s pinning you down by your thighs, using this new leverage to lean into your face.

“What are you gonna do about it? Run and tell poor little orphan Ollie?” He nodded, silently coaxing an answer from you. “You’re being mean Farleigh.” You whisper, showing weakness for a moment not even thinking about the fact your friend doesn’t ever touch you like this. Somehow, it’s the least of your worries.

With a heaving chest he looks down at your lips, focusing in on them as they draw into a tight line with the silence. “I wouldn’t be so mean if you hadn’t been,” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “…misbehaving.” You lost the ability to breathe for a moment, suddenly forced to face the lines that were most definitely being crossed. This was uncharted territory for the both of you.

One hand came up to your face, pressing his thumb lightly into the center of your chin making sure to slowly bring it up and gauge your reaction. His knuckle hooked over your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb grazed the wetness of your tongue. You closed your mouth around it instantly, earning a groan from the tall boy towering over you.

Swiftly he removed himself, pocketing his hands under your thighs and throwing your weight on top of his so you were open for him across the thick muscle of his leg. “You gonna be good for me?” You nodded, bracing yourself on his shoulders. “Yes, I am.” You said without hesitation, some new fire ignited you craved to fuel.

You were pulled by the nape of your neck to meet his lips in a fervent kiss pressing your whole body against his. Lips slid against each other as they danced in harmony, tongues exploring one another as you began grinding your hips against him hoping to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

His free hand locked onto your hip to stall any movement as he pulled away from you, “Take it easy babe, just let me touch you.” You could’ve melted right there, his hand traveled up your nightgown and grazed over the seam on the side of your panties. “Oh really?” He sounded almost proud in his surprise at your lack of pants.

He explored further, reaching up to your right breast and grazing his nail against your nipple. Your hips stuttered involuntarily, amusement written on his face as he watched your face screw in pleasure. “F-fuck” Your voice cracked, feeling that stimulation go straight to your core.

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He pouted, twisting the nipple in between his fingers leaving you breathless and desperate for more. “Yes, fuck, please just put your mouth on me.” You whined, and Farleigh didn’t need to be asked twice. Your gown was ripped from your body leaving you in just a little pair of panties and nothing aside from your stark nakedness.

Of course, he had to take a moment to admire your body, so soft and beautiful, like unwrapping a gift he’s always yearned for. “Farleigh, please.” Your voice sounded pathetic almost, but you were worried if either one of you paused for too long you’d come to your senses and stop. And empty fear seeing as it would probably take an act of god to seperate the two of you at this moment.

“Shut up, I wanna see what you’ve been hiding from me all these years.” His hands explored practically every inch of you, his eyes grazing against your stomach, your breasts, you thighs. He couldn’t stop imagining what your hips might look like settled on top of his own, stuffed to the brim with his cock.

He couldn’t wait anymore, he unbuckled his silver and black belt, letting it hit the floor somewhere before jimmying them halfway off all with you in his lap. Now your sex was making indirect contact with a small sliver of his skin between his boxers and pants. “I’m gonna spend some time with these,” He began to explain, giving each breast a squeeze. “But you’re gonna get off on my thigh before I do anything else. Understand?” You nodded with confidence, hiding your dissapointment in him. All you wanted was for him to be inside you, tending to that most sensitive part of you and he was making you do it yourself.

But you could give him a show, make him so insatiable he’d have no choice but to turn you over and fuck you after seeing the way you grind into that muscle. “Yes, I understand. I’ll be good for you.” You cooed in your most sultry voice. It must’ve been an effective plan because his head dipped to tend to you almost instantly.

With lips and teeth scratching against the sensitive skin of your nipple, you felt like you were going crazy. You didn’t need to be reminded of you task because your hips did all the work for you at the feeling he provided. It was like your breasts had a direct line to your clit, making any friction against it double in intensity.

Your hips weren’t thrashing against him by any means but you were still racing to reach that high, something Farleigh helped along by bouncing his thigh against you. Farleigh switched breasts, leaving a free hand to guide your motions along him in frustration. “God I can’t wait to fuck you.” He humbled against your chest, “Been so good for me, haven’t you? My good girl.”

You barely registered the words, not that it would’ve changed anything. If being Farleigh’s good girl meant pleasure like this you didn’t care.

You were getting closer, mumbling harder as you threw your head back in pleasure. Farleigh could barely make out any of your words besides: fuck, please, so close; he guessed he didn’t need the details. He grabbed the middle fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side so your clit was bare and began to catch onto Farleigh’s boxers, creating a new devilish form of friction against that bundle of nerves.

“I’m gonna cum.” Your voice was light and broken. It had come embarrassingly fast but with Farleigh’s tongue flicking against the second most sensitive bundle of nerves, there was no way you could’ve helped it. No doubt it was boosting Farleigh’s ego, something that was far from necessary.

He lifted his head, keeping one hand aimed at the pleasure points on your chest, “Look at me. I wanna see that look in your eyes.” You sped up, keeping eyes contact with him as your jaw felt slack and that impossibly tight knot in your core finally broke, letting pleasure avalanche over your senses. Farleigh kept on you with that look of amusement at how quickly you came undone through his own manipulation.

You sadly clenched around nothing as your legs shook a bit and you slowly rode out the high, not wanting to keep the same pace now that you were so sensitive. Farleigh pulled you into another kiss, this one deeper but more sensual than before. There was no rush now, neither of was going anywhere.

“Fuck you’re never leaving this bed.” He confessed between kisses, promising you this wasn’t just a one-off thing. “Not until I’m finished with you.”

[euovennia]

oh oh - and if it’s not too much trouble to ask, an addition to mom/dad friend simon, maybe another hc where reader takes a bullet for him and he’s like "why would you do that" and she’s all like "because your my friend" and he’s like "🥹" rubbing my hands together deviously

so for anyone new, this post is a continuation of this request, but it can be read as a stand alone if you so choose! i will say simon may be a bit ooc but you've already been besties forever so it's fine. thank you to the anon who requested this, i hope i did it justice. now please, enjoy <3

so by this point it's become well established that you and simon are pretty much a package deal

one can never be seen without the other trailing too far behind

unless of course one of you (usually simon) is actually trying to do their job

but even then you both have a tendency to hover

well

the hovering is usually done by simon who will take it upon himself to sit somewhere in the same room as you while you work

but you're more direct in your approach

which basically means you have no hesitation in pulling up a chair and talking his ear off

depending on his mood/what he's working on he'll either slide something your way in hopes of distracting you into silence or he'll take part in your mindless chatter

it's usually the latter much to the annoyance of price whose come to notice that simon tends to submit his mission reports just a tad later than normal when you're around

but he doesn't dare say anything because he's just happy simon finally has someone to keep him company

even if it does mean him missing a deadline here and there

now with the amount of time you two spend around one another, there was the small concern that you two may become a bit more reckless on missions together

but honestly?

that couldn't have been farther from the truth

as much as you like messing around with simon, you're very aware that your line of work requires your full attention

so, despite how hard it can be at times, you limit your jokes and general shenanigans to the bare minimum so you can get the job done

and obviously it goes without saying that he does the same by shedding the name simon riley and becoming the infamous ghost

it was a bit startling for the team to witness this change at first

they honestly thought you two were mad at each other

but after the mission was said and done, you and simon started hanging out again and it just kinda clicked

simon probably uses you as an example to soap to be honest

anyway, point is

you both know how to keep your friendship out of the way in the field, you've practically mastered the art of it

but the moment you see him get into a knife fight with an enemy soldier on a mission, you can't help but worry

and you can't help the way your worry morphs into panic as you see a tiny red dot plant itself on his body as he finally drives his knife into the neck of the rival soldier

and you certainly can't help the way your feet seemingly begin to move on their own as you sprint toward ghost and practically ram him into the ground

and you most definitely can't help the yelp of pain that drops from your lips as you feel a searing hot pain rip through your lower abdomen

so much for those bullet proof vests

simon looks up from his position on the ground, knife in hand and ready to stab it into the poor soul dumb enough to tackle him like this

but then he sees you

he sees your face, eyes wide with shock and mouth agape

his eyes trail down your body and he swears his world nearly crashes as he stares at the dark red spot currently staining your shirt

he can only fear the faint sound of yet another gun going off before you're tumbling onto the ground

he snaps out of his daze to catch you and he can't help but feel horrified upon seeing another bullet wound lodged into your thigh

he can hold in his cry of agony and heartbreak as your breathing soon becomes labored and your eyes fill with tears

he gives your struggling form a once over before sucking in a sharp breath and dragging you to a nearby hill that was littered with enough rocks and boulders to offer shelter from the incoming storm of bullets

he settles your head onto his lap as he harshly barks out words you can't even begin to understand through the comms

you can barely register the way his hand gives your face a small smack

your eyes connect as he pulls a roll of gauze from his tactical backpack, "come on, kid. don't do this to me. just a bit longer."

even with the searing hot pain that was overruling all your other senses, you can't help but smile

you grab onto his inked forearm and he stops as he looks back at you, eyes wild and frantic

"hey simon?"

"what?"

"thanks for putting up with me."

your eyes begin to flutter open, a small hiss of discomfort escaping your mouth as you cringe at the bright overhead lights

you make a move to bring a hand up in front of your eyes to shield yourself form the harsh fluorescents, but stop your movements when the lights suddenly begin to dim

confused, you begin to look around the room only to see simon standing by a wooden door with his hand on what you assumed to be a light dimmer

he stares at you through the eye holes of his balaclava, "better?"

you offer him a nod paired with a small smile and open your mouth to offer your thanks but stop when he puts the lights back up to their full brightness causing you to let out a groan

you open your mouth once more to vocalize your complaints and throw a half-hearted insult his way, but stop when you hear the heavy footfall of simon's boots making their way over to your hospital bed

he comes to a stop by your bedside as he glares down at you, a swirl of emotions darkening his already hardened gaze

after giving your eyes a few moments to adjust he speaks, "you're the stupidest person i've ever fuckin' met."

your eyes widen as your jaw goes slack, "excuse me?"

he leans down and stops just a few inches short of your face, "i said you're stupid and i'd yank you off the field myself if i could."

you can feel your heart drop at his harsh tone but decide to soldier on, "you're in a good mood today, aren't ya?"

his eyes narrow and a growl of anger and frustration escape the lips hidden by his mask, "don't give me any of that shit, you know what you did."

you sigh, "i'm in a hospital bed, simon. i don't think i could've done any–"

you don't even get to finish your sentence before he's interrupting you, "why'd you do it?"

you stare up at him, confusion and annoyance evident on your face

"simon, what are y–"

he scoffs, "the fucking bullet! you took the fucking bullet! why'd you do that? what made you think that was a bloody good idea? do you have any fucking clue what you put this team – what you put me through?"

oh

right

your expression melts into one of sheepishness as you attempt to get in a word, but stop when simon decides to continue

"i had the situation handled, i could've taken care of myself! i'm smart, i'm capable, and i have years more experience than you do so tell me, i can handle myself! i don't need you steppin' in and throwin' yourself in front of bullets! you coulda fuckin' died!"

"simon–"

he points a finger in your face as he continues on with his rant, "no, you don't get to call me that, not anymore. from here on out, you either address me as ghost or lieutenant, nothing else until you can learn how to handle yourself on the field. we need soldiers, not daredevils. do you understand?"

you exhale, "no."

before he can continue with his angry tangent you sit up with a painful grimace and grab the pillow the pillow your head once rested upon and fling it at him

he narrowly dodges it and stares at you with a mix of rage and pure disbelief with a glare that practically screamed, "what the fuck."

hit block limit again. i'm afraid this may become a habit. anyway.

taking his silence as your cue to speak, you do just that, "okay fine, you're right. i probably shouldn't have tackled you down like that and taken a bullet for you, i probably should've remembered that you're a fully capable man with more experience than me, and i probably should've remembered that the field is no place to be playing favorites. you're right, i should've kept that all in mind but–"

you let out a small sigh as you avert your eyes to the think blanket draped over your body, "when i saw that gun pointed right at you i...i couldn't bring myself to care about any of that. at that moment, all i saw was you in danger and i couldn't have that so i did what i did. you can reprimand and punish me all you want for doing it, but i don't care. i stand by my actions."

simon eyes you for a few moments longer before grabbing onto a chair nearby and settling it beside your bed

you watch as he sits down with a small sigh, his eyes never leaving yours

"why?"

your brows knit together in confusion

"why what?"

"why'd you take a bullet–no, why'd you take two bullets for me? you and everyone else on this team know i could've handled it, so why?"

you frown, "because you're my friend, simon. why else?"

once those words leave your mouth, you're greeted with his blank ghost stare

again, he's just 👁️👁️

and you feel a small wave of concern wash over you

like

this is the same man who was torturing you with the bright fluorescent lights and lecturing you to hell just a few minutes ago and now he's just staring at you

still and silent as ever

you almost ask if he's okay, but stop yourself when he brings his large hand up to the edge of your hospital bed and begins inching it closer to yours before eventually resting it over yours

it's quiet for a few moments longer before he speaks in one of the quietest voices you've ever heard from him, "you took that bullet cause i'm your friend?"

you can't help but soften your own voice as you respond, "my best friend."

upon hearing you say that, simon can just feel the small well of tears that begin building up in his eyes

and as much as he wants to fight them off, he just can't

you, already being able to sense the internal war he's got going on inside his head, simply turn your hand so you can grip onto his and give it a firm squeeze

and by god he hates you for that

because now he can't help but disconnect your hands in favor of surging forward and wrapping his arms around you

you swear you can feel the small rumble of his shoulders as he tries and fails to conceal his quiet sniffles but you decide to overlook it because oh my god simon 'ghost' riley is crying in your arms and it's all your fault

so you decide it's best to just hold onto him as tight as you possibly can

he notices this and he just melts

what did he do to deserve you?

what overpowering force of life felt that he was good enough for the sunshine that is you?

who gave him the honor of being blessed with you?

he's not sure but quite frankly, he doesn't really care

not when you're holding onto him like your life depends on it

not when you pull back from the hug, look into his eyes, and offer him the brightest smile he's ever seen

and certainly not when you grab onto his hands and speak in that sweet honey voice of yours, "i'll always take a bullet for you. i can't lose you, simon."

jesus christ you're going to make his heart burst

he sucks in a small breath and squeezes onto your hands, "i can't lose you either, kid."

you only smile, "you won't, i'm always gonna be here with you."

words that once would've annoyed him to no end now set his cold heart alight

"you fuckin' better."

your smile widens and you lean forward to capture him in yet another hug

with his arms wrapped tightly around your body and you pressed up against him, he can't help but smile

it's definitely nice to have a friend

:)

[yanderecandystore]

I love the yandere monster story, can I make a wish for some yandere monster boy naga who is looking for a mate to carry his eggs and live the rest of his life together forever?

I don't condone yandere shit irl, but if you bang a naga man someday I'll give you a pass and a cookie, you mad lad. Not proofread enough lmao, also sorry but I really don't know how to type s e x.

Tw/Tags: straight up NSFW/+18 scene (written by someone who struggles to imagine sex- So we don't guarantee quality) // not very descriptive genitals, if at all // the usual yandereness + breeding kink; possessive behavior; manipulation; suffocation; implied oviposition but not really cause I'm dumb // you're a literal desert mailman💀 I'm sorry // brief mentions of troubled family life/past trauma // language barrier // self-conscious reader // willing yet slightly scared reader.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Writing in the sand [Yandere!Male!Naga x AFAB!Messenger!Reader - One shot]

Being a messenger was actually a lot more dangerous than it seemed at first, how many times have you and your camel met with bandits, scammers, difficult terrain, awful weather, people who would tell you the wrong direction for shits and giggles?? MANY times, but did you ever consider quitting and going back to the tea shop of your very judgmental parents or worse- To accept the offer of personal servant to that weird queen from the faraway lands who wouldn't shut up about how much better her kingdom was?? NO!

I mean a little bit. Just a little bit. Occasionally, I mean her kingdom was really pretty, though constant snow sounds like a pain in the ass, and giving up the freedom you currently have for either a strict monarch or your family was NOT something you were planning to do, ever!

The first time you got off the borders to send messages for far away people was the day you truly felt alive for once! The desert itself was your greatest rival and yet you faced it head down after that day- Sure, you were unprepared at first and there's still plenty to learn out there but it was EXCITING!!

You fought (ran away as quickly as you could) many groups trying to get a coin out of your body, or your life! Or your camel!! King Mustard wasn't the same after the "giant scorpion with that group of thieves" incident that happened, the worst part is that it happened twice though the people were different at least. Your personal theory is that the scorpion WAS the same from before, and that it has been following you through your journeys and it probably was looking for revenge!!

You told that story to so many people that now it's hard to go someplace without repeating yourself, it's weird how even though you're never at one place for too long, most people know you! You're, humbly speaking, sort of a big deal in the great drylands- Not known for your bravery but mostly for your constant running mouth and your adapted technique in how to extract cactus juice safely from a cactus with 70% success of no cactus drunkenness! (100% Needle-safe not included).

Stopping in a town was obviously the safest place for you and your camel, but was also probably one of the most rewarding parts of your trips, of course because you always need to have plenty of resources out there in the sand but also because… Well, as much as you loved every second of exploration and travel, you were admittedly a very lonely person.

It's not something you like to tell others, as you have already experienced people doubting your capability of being a messenger if you get so "emotional" over being far away from people ("I told you so!" Yeah, thanks mum.). It was a time you could feel at least safe and… Sometimes welcomed.

But it wasn't always a lonely trip, after all, King Mustard was here! Him with his big personality was always the heart of the party! Everyday was fun with him, even if he couldn't speak to you… However, that doesn't mean you haven't found great comfort in your travels, you probably haven't noticed this yourself yet, but [y/n]...

You are a very dear person.

Every person you've helped along the way in your trips, just by coincidence finding them, and landing them a hand in the hot and harsh reality of the desert thinks of you dearly. You have friends! It's just that you don't see them very often… If at all. The desert has a funny way of getting people closer, people who struggle to survive in its environment, and yet it also drifts them away- The wind blows in every direction separating every small particle of sand, and maybe one day they'll meet again, or maybe not. Cruel was it, with its breathtaking beauty and extremely cold personality for someone so hot and merciless.

You often associate the desert with its forgotten god. You tend to talk about it as a person rather than just an environment of harsh conditions, you always remember to talk to it, hoping it would listen in a way. You were pretty much by yourself out there, but thinking that someone was listening to your travels made you feel safer, perhaps not as tormented as the blazing Sun would leave you to believe. You were being watched, and protected, you just knew it!

The proof of it came from one of the greatest encounters you ever had during your travels.

It was really hot that day, King Mustard seemed really tired and you were melting under the blazing heat- You two needed shelter and fast! And suddenly, as if the gods listened to your prayers!-(But quickly threw you two middle fingers)- An immense sandstorm was approaching!! For someone as cautious as you, you couldn't understand where the hell it came from!! It was so sudden and just- There was no indication of it!! At all!!

You got knocked out, and when you woke up- You were… Somewhere strange, like an underground oasis of sorts, hidden in the desert there was a cave of luscious greenery and drinkable water, it was magical how big the place was!! You thought you had died and went straight to Paradise!!

At least, you thought so when you saw a very large and handsome man staring back at you, smiling gently. He had tanned skin and a REALLY long, almost platinum hair! He looked so gorgeous with his green cat eyes that you almost forgot to breathe!

You asked the man if he was an angel, and he responded to you in a language you didn't understand. You were 100% certain that the man was really an angel and yet when he revealed the lower part of his body your face dropped immediately, terror slightly setting in. He was half snake, half a giant snake at that! His tail seemed endless, those dark scales were so pretty yet so terrifying! The gold markings seemed very regal and holy in nature but the endless darkness almost seemed to eat it all up! Like a demon!

You freaked out at first, but when you looked at his eyes, his gentle face- His expression of concern, those big bright eyes, you noticed he really didn't seem to have any ill intent towards you, perhaps you were misjudging him for something he was not. After breathing in and out, you calmed down, never taking your eyes from him, you felt comforted as you realized this creature was the one who saved you out there! And who saved your camel!! He was still really scared of your snake buddy, but you made sure to soothe him.

Long story short, you became friends with a human-snake guy who seemed genuinely very cool! It's a shame you didn't understand a word he said… You suspect that maybe he speaks in a very ancient language and perhaps this means he was REALLY old!! And yet, he seemed just about your age, and you got to hangout with him during your free time.

Poor thing, he seemed trapped down here (though to be fair, it is a fabulous prison to be in-) and he really wanted to catch up with times! So you made it your duty to help him understand the new world, you have no idea why he is here and how long did he live here separated from the rest of the world, but now that you knew how to get there and how to get out- You made it your mission to teach him everything you knew about the modern world.

And although the language barrier was massive, you two somehow got to learn something very special about each other- He shared with you his name, "Rakaski", and you got to teach him yours.

~"[y/n]"~ His accent was heavy, and yet you felt something flutter inside you whenever you heard him call your name. You remember him repeating your name over and over again as if he wanted to memorize how to say it.

After hearing his name, you made sure to research it, trying to find something that could lead you to know what language he was talking in- But no books nor people seemed to know how to speak it, except for one book you found, a fairytale book that was so old that it was a nightmare trying to understand the vernacular! But it didn't seem like a very "old" old kind of book, it was probably made after the language had changed, there were a lot of words that you didn't recognize.

The book never explained the name's meaning really, but it was always used as a common word- And given the context of the story you read, it seemed to mean either "falling" or "god"? Well, you're not very sure, since the book was confusing as hell, and your interpretation of the story was very mixed- Was it about a desert deity or a man that kept tripping over in the sand?! Seriously, why did it have to be so confusing!?

In the end, you still didn't understand the book and neither did you find out anything about Rakaski's name. At least you know it was older than your home kingdom, which was pretty cool.

Either way, the lack of communication never stopped you from coming down that hidden paradise to talk to your best friend every opportunity you could! King Mustard can be very squeamish whenever you guys try to get down there, he really disliked going there and you assumed it was because he was claustrophobic, which you already knew he was. So, today you'll leave him in the shade and get down by yourself, you don't want to stress the poor thing.

"M-Mustard! King Mustard Junior The Third, stop pushing me around!! You know you're a lot heavier than me! Seriously, this isn't funny!!" Ah, King Mustard, for a camel you're really just a scaredy cat! You push him away gently as you can, he keeps positioning himself in front of the hole you want to jump in.

"Hey stop!! If you don't want to come then fine, but let me get in! Please! I'll be back soon!" The massive animal was starting to get a little too agitated, and you knew better than to try to force your way.

"Mustard, seriously you're starting to scare me, you know I'll be back soon, please let me get down." You don't know if it was the deep magical connection of friendship that made him understand you and realize that he scared you, or if he suddenly felt disinterested in playing with you right now.

Taking by how the camel sassily walked away you're starting to think it was the second option- Of was he genuinely insulted by your stubbornness? Who knows.

"Sigh… You always get like this when we pass by." Though you can't really blame him, you know he still distrusts Rakaski, but come on it's been a year! And Rakaski has never hurt any of you two! Sure, he was a bit intimidating at first but he had a good heart, you just knew that.

Compared to the men back in your hometown? Rakaski was a saint, you were sure of it.

You had slid through the sandy hole and into the luscious underground with ease, you started to call for him, but before you could even yell out "Ra" you saw him not so far away, seemingly very occupied.

"Awn, guess you're decorating! Have I come at a bad time?" You walked to him and joked despite being aware he wouldn't understand you.

The way his face lit up and turned to face you was just so precious, he seemed very excited!

~"[y/n]!! [y/n]!! It's really good to see you again!! I was already worried you would never come."~ He talked just like you, committing the same mistake of talking as if the other would understand- You had no clue what he said, but as he coiled around you and his arms squeezed you oh so dearly you understood exactly what he meant.

"Yeah, yeah- Missed you too-" You never knew how to deal with anything social, period, and being flustered at someone who wasn't even human was not a first but it never got easier. But with him, at least, you feel like you don't need to pretend that you don't feel slightly flustered by his attention. Gods know you're a very easy target for large and very well built men.

After he let you go, you realized he was just building a new nest for him, so you decided to help him as well. It was already pretty much done when you got in, but you felt like he deserved a "fancy" bed so you helped him decorate with flowers and some of the trinkets you bought for him, he just loved human trinkets!

And by the gods, you knew you were currently in Spring, but these flowers?! They were just so damn pretty, it's a real shame that your traveling is mostly done in sand, occasionally though you have to go to the East to deliver important letters and gifts and you just kinda love that place! Every time you go, they're experiencing a different season, and it all changes so much, it's beautiful!!

"Oooh!! Maybe I should bring you flowers from one of the neighboring kingdoms, it'll be a way to show you the world since you can't leave…" You think out loud, and of course, he looks at you a little confused- And yet he repeats the word you said.

"Flowers?" He repeats it as if he didn't understand what you said, yet liked how you said it.

"Yes! Flowers!-" You say pointing to the flowers in his nest and surrounding you two, he quickly understands it, it seems.

~"Oh! Flowers! Oh, that's what it's called to you? Great heaven's, humans are always changing, aren't they?"~ He starts to laugh, you… Sort of don't understand the joke, but perhaps "flowers" just sounds funny to him.

He patted your head as he laughed, as if trying to congratulate you on making him laugh (I mean, getting this man to laugh was a challenge, you bet even without the language barrier).....

Although, it felt more like a "reward" sort of situation… As if he was rewarding you for… Being so entertaining, you suppose! Still, that's probably just all in your head, besides you know well when someone is being condescending to you, you're sure of it! Years inside your family's house has made you a pro in spotting bad apples from far away. I mean, you like to think you do, to be fair Rakaski was a little difficult to read, and sometimes he did things that you probably weren't sure of what they meant.

But then again, he was a very old half snake dude trapped inside a cave somewhere along the rock formations spread all over an unforgiving desert, his social life was probably a lot worse than yours, and who's to say that his antics aren't based on his own culture? Perhaps snake people like to coil around each other to show affection, even if it's really hard to breathe like this.

Things weren't so complicated between you two, however, as you guys have invented a form of simple and more direct communication through pointing to objects and scribbling on paper. You had thought about using sign language, so you learned a couple of words and tried to use with him-

"So- This means that- Hm..?"

But before you could teach him he already was talking to you through hand signs you didn't understand, he was very well adapted and you only knew a few like "hello", "you", "me" and "see you soon"- Which would be the most used one for you two.

"Huh, you always impress me, maybe you should be the one teaching me-" You bowed down, genuinely impressed with what you saw, and he seemed very content with himself as he smugly pretended to wave and throw kisses to a nonexistent audience. His ego was always a bit inflated, wasn't it?

You decided to cut your visit short and return back to King Mustard as you didn't want to leave him waiting for too long. It's funny how neither him nor Rakaski liked each other despite sharing a diva personality. As you waved your goodbye, Rakaski decided to give you one last big hug.

A hug that didn't seem to end at all. His body wrapping around you and leaving you to feel surrounded by darkness. This usually happened so it didn't come as any surprise. You tried to tickle him as that usually worked.

"Come on now, you know I'll be back soon!" You laughed as you tried to provoke him, his belly was so sensitive that you could see him contracting and trying to avoid giggling.

But he didn't let you go. Your attempt only made him restrict you further, the snake body trapping your hands with its weight.

You were well aware of Rakaski's animalistic tendencies, for example he was cold blooded and constantly held you to try to gain some height, like he is doing now.

You know that when he yawns his jaw unhinges and opens so inhumanly wide that you have to close your eyes so you won't have any more nightmares about it.

You know he is nocturnal so he is constantly feeling a little too sleepy whenever you two hangout, as you often come to see him during the day (which was something you did for safety, though you sometimes worry he is having trouble sleeping because of you-).

And you also know that snakes tend to suffocate their prey with their body before eating them whole.

While trying not to judge him as a human eating monster you still feel very, very terrified of the slight chance he might be hungry and has forgotten you're not food. The more you struggle the tighter it gets, and it doesn't help that his skin is so cold, it makes your nerves flare up as you can hear him growling with what you hope is not hunger.

"RAKASKI-!!" You yell, you couldn't help it, you were starting to feel dazed. While closing your eyes you felt his lower body shift and relax, you felt arms hugging you a lot more gently than the suffocating sensation from before. If it wasn't for his lazy eyes and the internal chuckling you can feel in his chest you would say he was actually hungry for you. He was just trying to scare you.

"Sigh, you'll be the death of me- Seriously you scared me to death!" You tried to push him off you, but he basically threw his entire body weight on you as you fell to the ground with your back on the soft yet not very ideally comfortable grass.

"Shhhh~!" He nuzzles on you while hugging your stomach. Normally he would have let you go now after petting your head or pretending to bite your neck just for funsies- But today he is very much not letting you go, at all.

Okay, you really didn't want to address the situation, you weren't planning on ever talking about it of course but- By the gods, you knew better than to assume his playful smile was just his usual silly self.

Oh, who were you kidding, you knew it from the moment you came in and saw the nest he was making, it's not like you haven't noticed his chest rising and falling as if he was struggling to breathe just by talking with you. You wanted to leave because you noticed that perhaps you took the wrong month to visit him.

It was mating season, wasn't it? Why now? Why today?! And why WERE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT?!!!

"Okay I think I need to think about this a little more- I mean you're clearly not thinking straight right, I'm not even a snake lady, man!" You try to push him off you as you avoid eye contact, the worst part is that he was fairly attractive for someone's who's lower body was just one huge snake tail.

He wouldn't budge, he only shifted his head to look at your face, even if you were avoiding him you could feel his smirk creeping around the corner of your vision, you wouldn't be surprised if he knew what you also knew.

I mean, it wasn't a secret you liked him was it? You thought you didn't mind him noticing this but this sudden desire just feels like it's happening all too fast and you're worried it might be just a one time thing, that he is acting like this out of instinct not out of actual desire towards you. And well you never really did this before, I mean not with someone like him, at all! But you had experiences with people before.

Bad experiences. The ones that would leave someone worried for years that they're not good enough to anyone. Were you being cautious or were you just being self-conscious? Were you scared of him not liking you when this high of his diminished? Maybe you just weren't sure if this was a good idea.

"I don't know if I'm really ready for this." You confess, looking back at him- Hoping to find your answer.

And he looked back at you with a sad expression, did he understand what you said? Did he understand what you meant at least? He looked so concerned and genuinely "awake" despite his current very urgent instincts. He held your hand and kissed it for reassurance, you didn't notice you were crying until your vision was blurry and your chest was aching.

"Sorry.." You tried to wipe them yourself, you don't know why you're apologizing. Rakaski didn't seem to take it well, he was about to say something before shaking his head vigorously and wiping your tears himself. He came closer to look you in the eyes, stop staring elsewhere, you won't find comfort anywhere else but those eyes.

He decides to come off of you and give you some space despite his initial reluctance, the gentle and almost warm presence of reassurance leaving with him- And before he could give you space you decided to make the first move yourself.

You kissed him, hoping perhaps he would understand the gesture, and he did! He hugged you and kissed you back returning your neediness… Though coming in with a lot more desperation than you thought. Not seconds after forcing his tongue in despite your unisseanes.

I mean, it 's good! He isn't being horrific at it is just that you have underestimated how badly he seemed to want this. And although you're just as interested in this as he is, you're worried you may not hold to the same durability as he has.

Today was the day. Today had to be day, and he wouldn't have it any other way. To wait longer would be torture and you best believe this man was patient. He wasn't expecting you to almost reject him at first of course, oh you almost gave the immortal a heart attack!

He shouldn't have been so pushy, he knows that, but having your soft lips on his was so worth it that he couldn't help himself as he pinned you down again, ah… It's a shame the nest is so far away, this is not a very classy way to do things.

Then again, ripping off your clothes with no regards was probably not very refined either, humans needed a lot more courting than he was aware of- But it was fine! You were doing just great, you were being so good to him, he wishes he could praise you in your own language so you could understand him.

~"You're so lovely for something so fragile, thank you for accepting me- You have no idea how long I've spent being trapped here knowing damn well there's not a single other like me out there."~ He would praise you in his own tongue in frantic breaths while kissing your neck and nibbling in your ear, while his lower body made sure to lock you in place, you were a little scared, weren't you?

~"I'm genuinely sorry for having to put you in this position but I can't take it anymore- But I know you want this as well, I know you do!"~ He usually was very talkative, but there was something in his voice that sounded shaky, desperate, and his hands were too confused on where and what to grab that you noticed he seemed just as inexperienced as you were.

Well, at least you thought so before he spread your legs and started to rock back and forth in your lower region- It's not exactly that he is inexperienced, but he is very much off his mind right now- His movements aren't uncertain, they're just frantic for any release. Not that he won't tend to you as well, he just really needs this right now. But you'll understand, you always do. You always treat him so well, despite the monster he has become.

~"It'll hurt, and I'm not sure if it's only a little. I promise to make it worth it later to you."~

You were struggling to keep up with his weird and off putting rhythm- He was just so ready for this, it's been on his mind ever since he found you unconscious inside his natural prison, but he knew better than to be selfish to someone he'll have to share a nest with.

~"It'll be great don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be well taken care of. It'll be incredible, my treasure."~

You shivered when he went from humping your lower region to undressing kissing it almost as passionately as he did your mouth- He should probably move a little slower considering he changes activities way too quickly but hey it felt better than the awkward dry humping.

It wasn't bad, but it lacked a bit of finesse- Not like his careful and calculated attention to your privates right now-

"Humans need a lot more work than I remember, but does that mean we can make it last longer? Would you want that, treasure? [y/n]?" Rakaski was playing with it almost as if he never looked at something like a naked human before, but it was a lie- He was absolutely just trying to tease you with every poke and flick.

He ran his finger down slowly before reaching an opening and pulling it inside, at least one to feel you inside. It's lovely that you arch your back to the littlest of things, and although he doesn't understand your words, moans are hardly hard to misinterpret.

"Slower then? I guess I was being too unprepared, I'll be honest that it's more fun than I expected. If this is the work I have to do every time then I'll gladly accept." Human courting was fascinating to him, though now he understands why, he can't just expect you to take it all in with a little help- And helping someone never tasted so sweet.

You were feeling embarrassed by his stare as he licked you out and further tried to spread you- Trying to ease the inevitable soreness that would come but damn, did he have to look at you like that?! It made you feel a little dirty, a little too embarrassed to entertain his idea, for someone who seemed so eager to shove it in without any foreplay he was really taking his time now!

You grabbed his hair carefully, you didn't really notice what you were doing and to be honest you weren't sure how to continue with this but Rakaski looked at you in awe… His smugness was replaced with a look of pure adoration- His pupils wide and round as he expects you to guide him.

It gave you a bit more confidence knowing he trusted you to hold his head and sort of help him find the right pacing.

You don't remember for how long it went, you just remember that it ended with you on top of him, going at your own pace. He held your hips not stopping you to go as fast or as slow as you wanted but rather because he felt very uncomfortable NOT holding every centimeter of you. He needed to grab into something and your sweet flesh was exactly that.

You woke up in his nest, feeling a little disoriented, memories of what happened a little foggy, but you were sure it wasn't a dream considering the soreness in your thighs- It was hard moving.

You sighed, feeling weirdly satisfied- Well, that's not the right word, more like… Well, genuinely happy.

You tried around, and you saw Rakaski curled up into a ball, sleeping so peacefully and yet with that little mischievous smirk in his face you just knew he was dreaming about it.

You turned your body to face him, deciding to close your eyes and sleep a little more.

Until you remembered you left your camel outside.

"HOLY GODS, KING MUSTARD!!" You jumped up, trying to run as quickly as you could towards the entrance- But you couldn't even leave the nest when Rakaski wrapped his tail on you and pulled you closer.

"WAIT! It 's my camel!! I forgot I left him-"

"Stay." He said in a very half awake voice.

"You can talk…?"

"Stay." Rakaski wrapped himself around you, as he buried his face in your neck. You weren't sure if he was understanding what you said, or if he only understood the meaning of that one word.

"Rakaski, I'm just going to check on him, I'll be back soon, I promise-" You pushed his chest away. You shouldn't have done that.

Rakaski tightened his grip around your body.

"Stay. [y/n]. You're not supposed to walk so soon. Stay still, no mother should walk so early after mating…" He still sounds so sleepy, so innocent, but his half opened gaze was not… friendly.

"Rak- AH!-" Tighter, and tighter, and more tighter. He knows damn well that whenever you get to that camel you're leaving him for gods know how long, but as he stated before, soon to be mothers shouldn't walk around in the dead of night especially since he knows humans don't deal well with the coldness of the desert during this hour.

It's better to stay here and let him take care of you while you're now waiting for his kids, even if you aren't aware of it. He isn't sure how long hybrids take to be born, but he wasn't to be there for you every step of the way.

"Shhhh…. Go back to sleep, stop struggling, it is not good for you…" He kissed you goodnight as he suffocated you back to sleep.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[spudangle]

Companion Bed/Sleeping Preferences

Lae'zel. Brought up as a warrior she definitely prefers practicality over comfort. Big luxurious soft beds are not for her, they’re too much of a hassle to get in and out of, not proficient at all. But if she has to, then she can pretty much sleep anywhere, be it while lying down, sitting, or standing. If she were to choose, she would probably prefer a hard surface over a soft one, so that her back feels nice and straight in the morning. She’s probably the companion who goes to bed first if she’s not on watch duty, and were it not for the elven companions then she would also be the one to wake up first quickly getting ready for the day. However she’s NOT allowed to sharpen her sword until after everyone else has gotten up.     

Shadowheart, too, has been trained to be able to sleep under most conditions, and a comfortable bed hasn’t really been commonplace for her under Shar.

But unlike Lae’zel, Shadowheart would actually enjoy having a bit of comfort in her life, especially after leaving Shar. It’s just something that she has to rediscover gradually. The feeling of the soft warm bed that she has at the Elfsong—a stark contrast to the cold stone of her old bed—is nice, but she almost finds it too warm at first quickly having to throw off her duvet to not overheat. The smell of clean linens however is perhaps her favorite thing, reminding her of a childhood long forgotten. Post-game she would probably enjoy having her own sleep rituals that she can do for herself and not to appease some cruel goddess. 

Astarion is a man of luxury. That means that he wants as big and soft a bed as possible, he practically wants to drown into the mattress. And it HAS to have clean silk sheets, he is done with damp dirty sheets that smell like they’ve been fucked to death. The bed is preferably a curtained four poster so that the warmth can’t escape, because obviously the bed has been warmed up by a bed warmer before he gets in. I know that there are several takes about the wooden board that he has in his tent, but I personally believe that it's there so he doesn't have to place his bedroll directly on the dirty ground. Anyways, Astarion wants a comfortable bed because he is a creature of comfort, and if can’t rest peacefully then he can at least suffer while in a comfortable bed. 

Gale also is a man of comfort when it comes to beds. His bed in Waterdeep has at least ten pillows, however he can only sleep with one otherwise he gets neck pain. The extra pillows are there so that he can sit comfortably while reading in bed. The bed itself is probably also really pompous looking, not exactly like the one from his last night alive scene, no it’s more pompous than that, it’s probably round. Yes it’s round. It’s a round four poster, decorated with golden constellations and heavy velour curtains hoisted up with thick tasseled ropes. And boy did he miss his bed when he had to leave Waterdeep. It’s not that he can’t sleep anywhere else, it just takes him a while to get used to new surfaces. ALSO, Gale most definitely talks in his sleep. Has he ever set something on fire in his sleep? He would never admit it, but he also can’t say no.    

Wyll. Since being cast out by his father Wyll quickly got used to not having a regular bed. He’d either be camping or he’d be offered shelter for his heroic deeds by the people who he helped. He probably enjoys camping quite a bit, finding the quietness of nature relaxing. Either that or he’s too much of an optimist to admit to himself that he misses having a warm bed. Wyll is also most definitely a morning person. Early bird gets the worm and all that. In fact he gets restless if has to laze around in bed for too long. Lastly, sleeping after he gets his horns is, if not a struggle, then at least something that takes some getting used to. For instance, he can’t lie down without a pillow. Not on his back. Not his side. Not his stomach. So pillows are a must, or at least just something that takes the strain off his head/neck while lying down.    

Karlach is probably the most restless sleeper of the gang. Not in the sense that she doesn’t sleep well—because she does—but she is a very animated sleeper, either kicking or punching the air, or she gets those weird twitches while dreaming. So unfortunately she’s not just a bad bed partner because of her body temperature, which sucks because she loves spooning before falling asleep. So, she’s either cradling Clive or her blanket for comfort. She also prefers sleeping in cold environments, which was fine when the group hadn’t reached Baldur’s Gate because when you’re outside then there’s always a draft. However the Elfsong doesn’t offer that same luxury, but at least she gets to sleep next to the window.

Halsin can also pretty much sleep anywhere, not because it’s practical, but because he’s always comfortable, at least when out in the wild. After all, the perk of bear form is that you’re well-padded for any surface. And he is a heavy sleeper. Give this man a good hearty meal, and he’ll sleep for 12 hours. This also means that any bed partner of his should be careful that they don’t get smothered under him, because if he is in deep sleep then you cannot wake him. He has also most definitely talked himself to sleep when telling his children goodnight stories before bed, only to then wake up and find that he’s the one that's been tucked into bed.

(If you’re interested in more bed thoughts then I also have this post)

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[beneathashadytree]

BRAT - RAFAYEL QI X READER

Warnings : NSFW obviously, marking/bruises, somewhat rough sex, bratty sub!Rafayel, mean dom!reader, hair pulling, handjob, overstimulation, light choking, implied corruption kink, implied dacryphilia, one moment of nipple play, implied voice kink, mentions of masturbation, cum-eating, can be read as pegging or just regular sex because reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : nasty smut

Word count : 1.0K words of filth

Additional notes : I’d been waiting for LaDS to release globally for years, so forgive me for going feral over the men. Rafayel is part of the sassy man apocalypse but I would die for him. Also, I want him desperately.

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“I never said I liked this,” Rafayel managed to gasp out, though his half-hearted words were completely betrayed by his own body. His slightly-bruised hips pushed back onto them, practically begging them to push even deeper into him, and his hands fisted the sheets below him even harder, knuckles almost growing white as he tried to get a semblance of control.

Control that his darling would certainly not relinquish to him.

With a dark chuckle, they pressed their palm onto his sweat-slick back, keeping him still against the mattress. “Could’ve sworn I just felt you clenching around me, sweetheart.” Angling their hips a little, they drove their cock deeper into him, just to hit that spot that had him crying out their name and seeing stars.

A whimper escaped Rafayel’s lips, and with furiously flushing cheeks he buried his head into the pillow. They clicked their tongue in mock disappointment, a hand reaching out to sharply tug at his hair and pull him off the drool-stained pillow to turn his head to the side, pounding into him from behind as he moaned in desperation and pure shame. “Poor baby. You think you can hide your little sounds from me? That’s cute.”

“You’re awful,” he huffed out, still trying to put up a front when his thighs were shaking and barely able to hold him up, and his gaze that struggled to meet theirs was just as fucked out as his body seemed. “Really fucking awful.”

Arching their eyebrow, they wondered how long he’d deny how much he was enjoying this. His hole practically swallowed them back inside every time they began to pull out, their cock glistening as they slipped into him with an almost-pornographic slick sound. “Kind of hard to believe you actually think so when you’ve made a mess out of my bed.”

Their hand fell from his mussed hair to curl around his leaking cock against the mattress, beginning to fist him at a cruel pace. His pre-cum dribbled from his tip, and his hips jerked from the overstimulation. Taking him so roughly from behind and jerking him off simultaneously had him right where they wanted him; needy and wantonly writhing in their sheets.

Rafayel choked out a sob, his back arching as he tried to escape the burning ache of pleasure bordering on pain. How long had it been? Thirty, forty minutes so far? It was a miracle he’d stayed sane throughout it so far. No matter. It was always fun to see him brought to ruin. “F-fuck, ‘m not gonna last like this.” His voice trembled with every thrust of their cock inside him, dragging deliciously against his fluttering walls, telling of how close he was.

“Good. I want to see you fucked into oblivion. Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson or two to keep your mouth shut.” Their laughter in his ear was a dark promise, leaning in and pressing their weight ontop of him just like how they knew he liked it. His weeping tip made it so easy to fuck his cock even faster, their fingers feeling every vein and every ridge they’d memorized.

“Mm, ‘s too much��!”

Every inch of him was burned into their memory; framed into their mind as the picture of his wanton ruination seared itself into their brain. Rafayel was a beautiful man, there was no doubt about it—but for some wicked reason, they always found him most ethereal when he was marked all over his back and chest, tresses of hair messy, and eyes watery. When he was painted in the shades of his own arousal, he rivaled his biggest painting masterpieces.

The arm that had been holding them up snaked up his torso, two fingers teasingly pinching his nipple, earning a dragged out moan from his gaping mouth. Their light touches against his ever-so-sensitive torso had him pulling his lower lip between his teeth, trying to hold back his whines of annoyance at not giving him the instant release that he wants—an attempt they turned futile as they began to fuck faster into him, their unrelenting fisting of his angry red cock pulling a sudden cry from the back of his throat.

A knowing grin on their face, their hand finally found its resting place: curling around his throat in just the right places, with a slight dig of pressure. Both their hips flush against each other as they nestled into him as deep as they could, their other hand now making rough circles to the tip of his cock. His gasping breaths and shaking form almost stilled to a halt as they leaned their head right next to his ear. “Cum,” they whispered.

And the way Rafayel moaned and instantly spilled into their hand, like their word was a command he’d repeat in his head for days and have the filthiest dreams about, had to be the single most erotic thing they’d ever born witness to. Babbling rushed “thank you”s, “oh God”s, even one or two “feels so, so fucking good” and—their personal favorite—“love you, s’ so much”, he was the picture of obedience and submissiveness.

If they could file this moment away in their mind to revisit every time they’d pleasure themself in bed at night, thoughts of him muddling their brain and driving them insane with every time their fingers tried to take his place but never quite managed to, they would.

But all they could currently do was slow their thrusts to a halt, milking every last drop of cum from his cock as it jumped against his abdomen. ‘Adorable,’ they thought to themself, an amused expression on their face. Even after he shuddered and slumped against the mattress, they remained buried inside his warmth, addicted to the feeling of him around them, like they were made to fit inside him.

The heady scent of sex and sweat, along with him trying to even out his labored breathing as the dim lights of the room danced across his pretty, exhausted features—and oh, was he a sight to behold—were enough to have their core burning with the inferno of uncontrollable want. As they brought their hand up to their mouth and licked at his release, they hummed appreciatively at the taste of his raw pleasure.

“Maybe I’ll make it a habit of fucking the brattiness out of you.”

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[kelocitta]

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

[mechanicalpiper]

Spiciest one I've done yet, I think! Enjoy :3

Hero beats Villain in a fight, and the latter can't hide their fluster over Hero being in control.

CW: VERY suggestive.

Snippet #7

It was the most tense fight the two ever had.

Hero and Villain continued to trade blows, weaving around one another's strikes and staying on their feet despite the pain.

What made it tense wasn't the fight itself, necessarily- it was the stakes. It wasn't simply Hero foiling a plan or Villain trying to capture them- there was no destructive machine to destroy, information to gather, person to save, nothing.

There were no stakes. That's what made it so tense.

The two had just... stumbled across each other. It was late at night, and both were simply taking walks through the city. There wasn't anything to accomplish- they just knew they couldn't just ignore one another.

Since there wasn't anything to formally accomplish, the winner would simply... win the fight.

The winner would just have the loser physically defeated. Anything could be done to them in a weakened state like that, and knowing one another, it almost certainly wouldn't be good.

So here they were, scrapping in an alleyway with the same ferocity as fighting for their life.

Hero landed a clean blow, staggering Villain back a little. Hero generally looked much less beat up- Villain knew they were going to lose. The pressure was on them as Hero continued to strike, putting Villain on the defensive without enough breathing room to make a strike back... they just had to weave around or block enough strikes to get their opportunity.

Hero feinted an overhead attack. Villain, in a panic, held their arms together and in the way of the strike to block it... giving Hero the perfect opportunity.

Villain noticed just barely too late. They shut their eyes to brace for impact, but... no strike came.

Instead, they felt Hero grab their wrists, pressing them back into the wall of the alleyway.

They cautiously opened an eye to process what exactly was happening. Hero was in front of them, leaned in slightly with a smug lil grin, holding Villain's wrists against the wall above them.

"Checkmate! I win~" Hero taunted.

Oh, dear god.

Villain squirmed slightly. Wow, this position was evoking some feelings. Pinned against the wall by Hero, of all people?? A mild blush formed on their face. Hero noticed.

"D-Don't sound so cocky!" Villain snapped. "We're not fighting over anything, t-this doesn't have meaning!"

Hero gave a teasing little grin in response. "Oh? Really now?"

Villain glared back. "Obviously!! There's no plan to meddle with!"

They struggled angrily, but they knew they were far too weakened to resist Hero's grasp. Weakened because t-they were beat up, of course. Nothing else. Nada. Zip.

Hero grinned. They found it so cute how badly Villain was hiding a bit of enjoyment here. That blush was glowing bright, some of those squirms were of flustered embarrassment, and they'd never stuttered like that before. They'd never seen Villain in such a helpless state like this- it was absolutely precious.

"Hmmm? Oh, all the Agency ever wants me to do is fuck up your plans, but they're not involved right now, are they~?"

Villain's entire expression showed flustered surprise for a moment. That completely took them off guard... the thoughts rushing through their head only got more frequent and detailed. They knew there was absolutely no way this would play out like that, though. No way.

"W-Well, no, but what else IS there to do?? I can't think of a damn thing this gets you besides throwing me back in that barely-qualifying prison to escape overnight!" They shot back, hiding their embarrassment under anger.

"Oh, honey, don't lie~♫"

Villain completely froze for a moment.

Their expression became complete surprise as they looked at Hero, their blush covering their entire face.

holy shit.

Did they hear that right? Was Hero just mocking them? Did they misinterpret it? They scrambled for an explanation- ANY explanation. Because surely, SURELY this wasn't actually happening.

Hero let out a giggle watching Villain helplessly squirm under them at a complete loss for words. It was so, so fucking cute to see such an intimidating, notorious rival just fall apart in their arms like this.

"Well~? Anything you'd like to say?"

Villain couldn't find the words. They squirmed, stuttered, grit their teeth in frustration... a pathetic display the Hero couldn't get enough of. The glare they shot back at Hero was filled with the most precious little mix of frustration, uncontrollable fluster, and embarrassment they'd ever seen.

"Awww, having trouble speaking, Villain~?" Hero taunted back. "What's wrong~? Where's all that dauntless charisma, hmmm~? You're not hiding a damn thing, sweetheart~"

Villain was practically falling apart at the seams.

Their thoughts were less coherent, just filled with so, so much fluster. They couldn't believe this was actually happening. They couldn't have been happier.

"I'm not surprised you're so subby, really~! It fits you quite well~"

Their struggles were long gone by now, replaced with desperate squirms. Not desperate for escape. They'd never been such an absolute mess before

"So... why don't you be good for me and come on along as I head back home~? I've got time to kill."

Villain's response was almost subconscious. "...P-Please..."

There was a long night ahead of them.

[itsjustrosee]

hii. i was wondering if you’d be okay with posting boyfriend headcanons? for minho mostly. if not it’s totally fine!!

have a nice day!

yes, I've actually been meaning to write some so yes definitely!

Minho headcanons

Warnings: Sexual inferences and stuff like that ig

(this is for fem!reader btw)

-At first, Alby tried to stop you from dating his best runner. He thought it would distract him, and even though Minho did drift off while on the job thinking of you, you made him even more productive. You made him even more determined to find a way out of the glade for you and for everyone else.

-Alby forbade you and Minho from dating, but of course, you both did it anyway in secret. But straight away, Minho's drastic increase in mood was visible and the runners couldn't help but notice it. After days of prodding and poking Minho, trying to figure out what it was that had him being so nice and lenient, he finally caved and told them how he was dating you. Obviously, the other runners were supportive of it if it meant that Minho was in a good mood all the time, so they all ran to Alby and BEGGED him to let you and Minho date so you no longer had to do it in secret. Alby eventually gave in and allowed it and hasn't had too much of a reason to regret it since.

-Minho was quite the protective man. He cared about you more than life itself and it pained him every day to run into the maze and not be able to look after you in the glade. He always trusted you and never thought you would do anything with anyone else, but he was scared about how some of the other boys in the glade would treat you. That's why he made sure that he got as many of his friends in the glade to look after you until he got back.

-He would always be sure to spend the most time with you as possible as he could when he got back out from the maze. That included him eating dinner with you, showering with you, literally doing anything with you.

-Even though no gladers other than him and Alby are allowed in the maze room he would let you in anyways. You had no idea about how to help him figure out how to solve the maze, but you'd always be there to calm him down once he got frustrated.

-You guys share a hammock with each other because you both always fall asleep quicker when you're next to each other. It also means that whenever either one of you wakes up suddenly bc of a nightmare, the other person is there to calm them down.

-Minho tries his best to not wake you in the mornings when he gets up early to go into the maze and to yk do his job, but since you're such a light sleeper you always end up waking up. You'll end up walking to the maze doors to wave and kiss him goodbye, then head back to bed for a couple hours until you have to go to work.

-Whenever Minho takes a break in the maze with the other runners, while he eats food or drinks water, he always mentions you in conversations. He'll say things like "I wonder what (Y/N)'s up to", and "Do you think she's eating lunch right now too?" Because he's constantly thinking about you and he can't help but ask.

-After the first few times of Minho saying stuff like this, the other runners thought that it was cute that he liked you so much, but now, they just roll their eyes whenever he brings you up and they'll say, "Okay Minho we get it" because after the number of times he talks about you on a day to day basis, yes, they definitely do get it.

-After a certain amount of time in the glade, you've memorized when the maze doors close and open without needing a watch. Because of this, you always head to the maze doors a couple minutes before they're supposed to close to greet Minho right when he steps back into the glade. Whenever he comes back you greet him with the tightest hug known to man because the maze is incredibly dangerous, you know that any day Minho could die in there, which is why it's such a relieving feeling when you see him again.

-Sometimes you guys will go out later at night and just lay on the grass together and talk for however long you both feel like. Minho always makes sure he spends time with you whenever he can, and you both appreciate having these long conversations with each other. Even though sometimes you both just lay on the ground and stay silent, it never feels awkward. Being in each other's presence is enough, and the silence between you can actually feel quite comforting.

-Whenever a new greenie pops up from the box and there's a bonfire, you and Minho make sure to spend all the possible quality time with each other. Sometimes you'll sit on his lap (which never fails to get him a bit flustered), or you'll sit right next to him while his arm is around your shoulder. You've never really been one to drink so you'll often fall asleep on Minho before the night is over, and he'll always leave a little early to carry you back to your hammock.

-You and Minho have come to realize that using each other in certain ways really helps relieve stress. Whether that is by talking and venting to the other person or through being more intimate with each other.

-Minho likes bringing you into the maze room and doing it there because he knows that only he and Alby are allowed in there so he doesn't have to worry about people walking in on you both. He also likes doing it in the showers because being the only girl means that you're the only one allowed to shower during a certain time, and Alby made sure that there would be consequences to whoever tried to intrude on you showering. But that also just happened to make it the perfect time for you and Minho to be in there alone.

-Minho has two different sides to him when you and he are both doing it, which depends on his mood. He's either gentle and kind, or dominant and controlling. Both of them are a total turn-on for you regardless, you're happy to help him in any way you can.

-You love to tease him, and he loves to put you in your place. He always makes sure your needs are met. Even though he loves to please you, you love pleasing him even more, so eventually he gives in and lets you make him feel good. While you're doing it, he always wants to make sure that you know that he loves you, and he loves to praise you.

-Even if he gets more dominant with you, he always makes sure he's never too harsh, and he makes sure that he's never crossing any boundaries. Afterwards, he'll make it clear that he loves you and he'll thank you for letting him take out some of his stress and frustrations with you. He also heavily believes in aftercare so he'll always bring you back to your hammock and because whenever you do it, it's at night, so he'll cuddle you to sleep while you wear his shirt.

Alrighty yallllllllllllllllllll heres another Minho related post. I'm on such a roll omg. By the way I see your guys requests and I'm working on them I promise!! I just have an insane amount of school work I need to do but trust I will get to everything.

anyways, this was so fun to write, thank you for the request!! I hope you liked it

[illumalux]

Life Series Victors as Tarot Cards

A presentation on why we’ve got it all wrong when it comes to grouping life series victors.

This post will continue on with the implication that ZombieCleo is a Victor, simply because she is. She won real life, therefore she's a victor. Argue with the wall.

Now, I see your celestial trio of the first three winners. This should never change. This feels the most apt, it centers perfectly, and each of the things it represents are present in multiple different categories. Obviously in space, as everyone has adapted to, but also in a Minecraft world, and what I see as more important: in a tarot deck.

Think about it this way.

The Watchers, in whatever form you think they (or we) take, are collecting these Victors. Each one means a different thing, survived a different landscape. While I understand the celestial motif of the first three Victors, and how it fits into their characters, I would argue that many others are far too grounded for that.

It’s a collection, remember? What is better for assembling a set than a deck of cards? Especially ones that meddle in Fate, something the Watchers seem to adore.

So here are the cards each Victor represents, with card meaning and my defense as well. This will go in chronological order of the seasons.

Before I continue, I just want to give a disclaimer. Every tarot deck has a slightly different explanation for what each card means. The definitions I use are a mix of three of my decks and the official Rider-Waite-Smith deck's explanation, so if there are inconsistencies with what your deck says or what you know, please don't come for me.

Grian, Third Life:

XIX. The Sun

Beyond the obvious desert motifs (a whole extra post in and of itself), the Sun is representative of not only Grian's gameplay, but also how the Watchers (those collecting this deck) feel about him. Grian is one of them, so he naturally starts out in their good graces, with a greater level of respect.

Rider-Waite-Smith defines the card as one of success. Of course the Watchers will gloat when their baby wins. Even if he wasn't meant to, it did inevitably mean that throughout his game, Grian was inarguably one of the largest sources of negative emotions, second only to the Red Army. Again. Extra post on its own. When he won, it saved anyone the satisfaction that might negate their negativity, alongside the delicious outpouring of grief that was the final duel of Third Life.

Reversed, the Sun is a card of depression. As I just touched on, one of the most defining moments of Grian's game was his final victory. When the ending came down to himself or his greatest ally, he went about it in the way that caused probably the most pain to both parties involved. It pushed him to the very brink, ending in him defining his own ending just moments after winning.

Scott, Last Life:

XVII. The Star

Even ignoring the starborne origins and headcanons, as well as the crown of stars included in his skin (Void below, these posts write themselves) this one looks like a super simple explanation, but actually requires me pointing out something that may not be obvious to some Watchers: Scott, in every game and Iteration has made it a point to rebel against the rules in whatever way he can. I could go into full detail, but thats a lot of words and I don't need anyoen to get bored. (Void, this series and side tangents that require other posts)

In third life, a game about death and destruction, and the originator of factions, Scott took a very different route: he got married and built a house in a flower field. When grief finally found him, he refused to give the Watchers any satisfaction, literally crystalizing his grief into a part of his character design (and one that would remain for two to three more seasons, depending on your thoughts on the coral pieces). In Last Life, he is the singular person in all five seasons (technically two, but shhh this is more dramatic) to withstand the Boogeyman curse, something the Watchers installed purposefully to make people kill allies. Double Life, obviously, as Scott rejecting the soulmate the Watchers gave him. Limited life, in which kills gave more time, Scott did not die a single time without giving life freely, either to an ally or a temporary ally.

That got long. Anyways. Scott's game has always been one of hope, spreading positivity and refusing to be pushed around by the Watchers. And that's exactly what the Star means. Upright, this is a card about hope and perseverence, pushing through challenges, which is exactly what Scott does. He refuses to let the Watchers' actions upset him and continues to play the game for his friends and for the future and nothing else.

Even reversed it still fits. Reversed, the Star means loss or abandonment. I've already used up too much time on Scott here, so I'll let you pick your favorite instance of that.

Pearl, Double Life:

XVIII. The Moon

This one is far and away the easiest. Like the previous two Victors, Pearl's story connected her with her symbol even before she won. But blood moons and wolf packs aside (as that's a whole different post for a whole different day) when you take a look at the definitions provided, it becomes even clearer.

The Moon is a card of transformation and change, as well as revealing one's inner self. Rider-Waite-Smith attributes hidden enemies, darkness, and terror with The Moon. While I'll happily analyze every single one of Pearl's actions as the Scarlet Pearl, I think this one is plenty self explanatory. After her rejection early on in the game, she immediately isolates herself and latches onto the night motifs, leaning in to what everyone expects her to be.

The reversed meanings also explain Pearl's arc in Double Life perfectly: confusion, mixed messages, and disbelief. This perfectly encapsulates Pearl's feelings at the very beginning of the game via her rejection by Scott and subsequent abandonment by Martyn in an attempt to get back into Cleo's good graces. Her instinctual reaction is one of shock, not understanding why Scott would choose to pick a soulmate when she was right in front of him.

Martyn, Limited Life:

XVI. The Tower

One of my favorite cards, the Tower is instantly recognizable. While most of my analyses aren't about how the card looks, I feel like it's important to share this time around. The most common image consists of a tower and one or both of two elements: lightning, and people falling. As a card, it represents sudden change, destruction, and chaos.

If anyone here is not yet convinced that I'm correct, please go rewatch Martyn's last LimLife episode, then come back and argue.

You're back? Great. We agree? No? Fine, I'll explain.

This fixates mainly on his winning game, but I'll touch on the rest of his games as well. LimLife ended with a huge betrayal on Martyn's part, one characterized by being so insanely sudden. (Of course it's the Watchers meddling. But the Tower isn't always about your own choices being your downfall.) He quite literally snapped as if hit by lightning (see description of the card), and this spells the beginning of the end for him.

Similarly, in all of his other games, Martyn finds himself with one pivotal moment that spells his downfall. The Red King, Betrayal at the Southlands (and honestly his worst move in DL was abandoning Pearl to try and beg for Cleo's forgiveness).

Funny enough, the reversed meaning of this card is almost a perfect match. I don't think this needs too much more explaining.

Scar, Secret Life:

X. The Wheel of Fortune

I adore Scar in these games. Every single season seems absolutely plagued by chaos. The worst season, obviously, was the one in which he gained his crown. Poor guy was just trying to make friends, and it seemed like every new secret was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

The Wheel is just what it sounds like: it's the card of luck, destiny, and fate. I won't add a new paragraph for the reversed meaning here either, as it means the exact same thing as upright, but with negative connotations in the form of bad luck and misfortune.

Scar is plagued by the whims of luck left and right. It seems like, more than any other player, Scar is unable (whether by others, fate, Watchers, what have you) to take full control of his own story and take actions that he wants to take, instead limited to where the current takes him.

But in the end, that chaos is what gives him his win. The lack of alliances and freedom that the game forced on him was what eventually lead him to be unmoored and able to volley his pain wherever he wanted, leading to a mostly painless win.

Cleo, Real Life:

XIII. Death

A little on the nose, I know, but which of these choices aren't? For a series entirely based on improv, there are a stupid amount of coincidences present.

Now, I know this is far and away the shortest series, so I'm going to analyse Cleo as a player across all of her seasons, not just her winning game. Sorry Real Life. You should have been longer.

While the meaning of the Death card may seem obvious, it's twofold in actuality. In some historical decks, even, the card is instead named Rebirth. I know how ironic that is that the zombie is the one who stands for death and rebirth, but again. Blame the stupid narrative, not the poor me trying to make sense of it.

In what my lovely mutual Honor called "phoenix behavior", I'm going to focus specifically on her deaths and rebirths, specifically BigB's betrayal in LastLife. Cleo takes her death hard, as anyone might. But her rebirth comes with change. The minute she respawns, it's with a different understanding of the world around her. She immediately embraces the change that has been given to her, burning down the Fairy Fort and ditching her alliance for a new one.

The reverse captures Cleo as a character over her seasons better than anyone on this list. While the upright meaning of the card is change, reversed it signifies stagnancy, obsession, and immobility. This can be seen almost perfectly with her thoughts on alliances. Scott remains forever in her good books, even over the course fo multiple seasons, simply because he has never wronged her. Even when they aren't direct allies,she still cooperates with him whenever, simply because she retains her previous feelings about him. The same can be said for BigB, but in the opposite direction. From the moment of the betrayal onwards, she refuses to trust him, going so far as to warn Pearl away from allying with him in LimLife.

Bonus: Jimmy Solidarity, the Canary

XII. The Hanged Man

But Moon! you shout, throwing your complimentary bucket of popcorn at me. Jimmy isn't a Victor! He's the exact opposite!

Yep.

That's why he's so soggy and why he goes on this list. You wanna argue that he doesn't have the same lore impact as a Victor? Too bad. Can't hear you. Jimmy gets his own card.

Initially, I was kinda sad that I already used the Tower, because that's the portent of doom and gloom or whatever, perfect for a canary. But then I spied an even better, even more Jimmy card.

The Hanged Man is the card of sacrifice. While I could go on a whole rant about the Fool's journey and how it is represented in the Life Series, that is Extra Tumblr Post Number IDK Anymore. Instead, today I'm going to stick to the basics. To specify sacrifice, the card doesn't just mean giving up. It signifies self sacrifice specifically. And what is Jimmy if not a semi-willing first sacrifice to get the chaos rolling?

How many times has he gone out to stop his friends from being the one who has to herald the change? The canary knows that he will sing the final notes, but so long as he can ensure the miners don't have to, he will descend once more.

Conclusion:

Now. Did I spend more time on this post than I ever did on an English Lit essay? Maybe. But as much as I love the space motifs this fandom has, I fundamentally disagree when we get to the latter winners. Come on, guys. Tarot decks are right here.

If I missed anything, or I misrepresented a player's game, please tell me. I can't be everywhere at once, and I'm always happy to learn more about some of the players I don't watch as regularly.

Anyways, this was way more fun to write than I expected. If anyone wants to see me give cards to the rest of the players who have yet to win, or an analysis of anything a mentioned in my tangents, please let me know.

Special thanks to @honorsongs who kept me company through this whole process and gave me many a suggestion when I lost my train of thought.

[anistarrose]

The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.