#NO ONE TELL ME HUNTERS FACE LOOKS WRONG

[bluebrrytea]

Screencap redraw 😎

[welcometogrouchland]

whats your favorite toh character to draw!

OUGH that's hard.. probably a toss up between Luz, Lilith, Amity and Willow though?

Luz and Willow are two of my favorite girls and both are great for getting to do soft shapes and fun shorthand.

Lilith's great bc I love the shapes her hair makes (straight and curly) and her big glasses give me fun shorthand to work with.

Amity's mostly fun for her hair (esp s1 and 3) and face (it was all over when I gave her the hooked nose <3)

It's very hard to chose tho </3

[marvelandponder]

one amazing thing about the Owl House finale is that it finally contextualized for me one of the central metaphors of the show. Spoilers for the series finale Watching and Dreaming ahead.

we good? no one spoiling themselves? beauty

for a long time now, I thought we had a pretty standard coming-of-age metaphor dichotomized by the show's central antagonists. you've got your protestant witch hunter Belos who introduces a maturity and ugliness to Luz's narrative; he clearly represents a particular, restricting form of adulthood, and just when Belos becomes his most threatening, boom, enter the Collector, Luz's dangerously naïve inner child to ruin all her development on the Boiling Isles. Seems simple enough

what I didn't anticipate was just how specific and personal their roles in the story actually are to Luz once you have the full context from the series finale

look again

this story - this whole series - is about the grief that a neurodivergent kid experienced at a young age, introducing the cruelty of loss and adulthood before she was ready to handle it. and, how to reclaim a more whole understanding of herself as she rebuilds her life with people who get her

Belos is designed to infect the titan carcass like a disease. a cancer. it's super goddamn significant that the titan is King's dad (King, who became Luz's younger brother). they set up Belos not just to be another fascist kids' cartoon villain (although yeah, he do be doing some of that), but to specifically become a force that oppressed the weirdness from the one place that understood Luz. the Iles. the dad. And by the end of the story, Belos's goopy body-horror isn't just for show, he's just like the cancer or other terminal disease that took Luz's dad from her

he's the thing Luz hasn't processed in season 1 that comes in at the end like a warning. he's the threat that forces Luz to grapple with her own humanity, feeling somehow (often completely unjustifiably) harmful to those around her, through the grief she doesn't want to be a burden or the weirdness (neurodivergence) others don't understand. he's the force that says there is something wrong with you, Luz, give in to your grief, this is what you can't face. this is the lie you've been telling to those closest to you: that you're okay

then you have the Collector. (notable that he's a collector, and we see Luz's mom and dad had quite the collection of nerdy memorabilia)

the Collector is the child too young to understand death. Too young to understand consequences, or why their playmates don't feel like playing anymore with someone so weird and maybe a bit too involved in their own world. The Collector is Luz's inner child, that kid we see right before the "worst week ever" — the one who didn't and couldn't understand what was about to happen even as it was going down. unapologetically weird, a bit destructive and short-sighted, but wholly colourful, wholly themselves. that's why the Collector wants to live out Luz's adventures, but without all the depth. just the fun escapist fantasy

but don't think I forgot the internal conflict! :D

because Camila's role also gets an added depth too: Camila was framed at the outset of the series as someone who loved Luz, but wanted her to fit inside a box that she just didn't. later, Luz completely misconstrued her mom's breakdown when she learned that Luz chose to run away. as many people have pointed out by now, Luz misremembers the actual dialogue that Camila says: Camila only wanted her daughter safe, not to lose her. Luz meanwhile felt like she had to choose to destroy this part of herself, or give up her connection with her mom altogether

but we know now Camila actually deeply relates to Luz. she may not understand Luz's fascination with horrific things like on the boiling isles (very akin to a kid getting more grim hobbies in the wake of a death, like Luz's taxidermy), but she loves Luz for who she is. all of her. she never wanted Luz to change

Luz was the one framing the central conflict of the show as go back to her mom or stay in the boiling isles. Luz was the one who felt like she had to punish herself by rejecting the one place where she felt like herself. once Camila realizes what's been going on, and how deeply connected it is to the loss of Luz's dad, she knows Luz is trying to make a "very bad choice for herself." And she won't let that happen (what a great mom!!)

But Luz does have one real choice ahead of her

because of the inner child who once again has to confront death (this time, Luz's own), Luz is able to connect with a father figure, the titan, the one place she feels understood. in the form of a power-up that makes her into a fantasy witch straight out of the Good Witch Azura, the one place she got joy after that huge loss, the titan gives her the strength to face the cancer—a force draining everything good in her life from her and making her question she deserves it in the first place—but only if she can choose herself

and that means choosing happiness, choosing found family, choosing love and friendship and self-discovery in the place she feels most at home! every bond she's forged, everything she's worked for, it all comes down to choosing to face grief and move on in life with weirdos who stick together.

hoot hoot, that's some good metaphor

[abyssruler]

TROPES

ft. jing yuan, dan heng, blade x gn!reader

JING YUAN - reincarnation

They say the Arbiter General of the Luofu only takes a lover every few decades, each one doomed to end in the tragedy that befalls that of a love between a short-life species and a long-life one. It’s widely speculated why the famed general chooses to continue taking short-life species for lovers, knowing the ending that would come about such a union. Jing Yuan cares not for idle gossip, save for the fact that people spread misinformation about him taking multiple lovers, but he can hardly tell everyone that he has only had one lover throughout his centuries of life. It’s just that you always happen to die far too soon for his liking. He fears sometimes, during those first few years after your death, that you’ll never come back, that one day he’ll wake up and realize that hundreds of years have passed without you. But you never fail to appear decades later with a smile on your lips and an apology on your tongue, soothing years’ worth of worries with a few measly words. Sorry, Yuan, I’ll be sure to live longer this time.

DAN HENG - soulmates

The Imbibitor Lunae was not only tasked to bear the responsibility of being the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, he was also destined for a love that spanned beyond lifetimes. Dan Heng knows of the story between the previous incarnations of you and the Imbibitor Lunae. Reincarnating at the same time, falling in love, and repeating it all over again in a never ending cycle that Dan Heng had been sure to end—that was, until he met you. Jing Yuan told him of your decision to forcefully reincarnate as well after Dan Feng’s crime, so it stands to reason that you shouldn’t feel anything for Dan Heng at all, what with this incarnation of yours having never met him in this lifetime. And yet, you keep looking at him with such softness, something like nostalgia in the tone of your voice as you spoke with him, that he can’t help but feel as though he, like his previous incarnations before him, can do nothing but fall into that never-ending cycle of love and being loved.

BLADE/YINGXING - time travel

Yingxing thinks you’re strange. Not in a bad way, of course, only that your mannerisms and way of conduct when it comes to him and his companions is odd. He’s caught you almost calling Dan Feng the wrong name, Dan He-something. You keep demanding Jing Yuan to spar with you for what you dubbed was a ‘rematch’, though Yingxing has no recollection of any instances of you and Jing Yuan fighting before. But it all pales in comparison to the way you act with him. You’re overly familiar, smiling and talking to him as though you’ve known him for years instead of a single month after he discovered you wounded on an alley with a broken blade. He still remembers the look of relief on your face when he crouched in front of you in concern. Blade, Kafka’s gonna kill me, this is the fiftieth sword I broke this month, was all you said before passing out. Despite the oddity of your first meeting, he found himself getting close to you, drawn in by your smile and your laugh and the tender way you looked at him. He imagined spending what remained of his life with you, but you disappeared a day before he was supposed to confess his feelings. It isn’t until many years later, when Elio is introducing the newest member of the Stellaron Hunters, that Blade connects the dots amidst his fractured memory. And it isn’t until another few years that you confirm his suspicions. Blade, you won’t believe what I just went through—or rather, when!

[undiscovered-horizon]

4 A.M. - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji's doing prep for the next day and you can't sleep which leads to a heartfelt and intimate encounter.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

It's around 4 A.M. when you get up from your hammock-turned-cot and decide to find something to do. Sleep clearly isn't coming. The past two hours of staring at the ceiling and swaying with the boat filled you with annoyance at your sudden case of insomnia.

Walking down the narrow corridor of the lower deck, you can hear the tiniest of creaks as the caravel floats along the waves. The night is so quiet, you can almost hear Luffy's snoring from his room. Usopp is mumbling in his sleep. Something about a pirate crew, carrots and onions. Nami and Zoro seem to be peaceful sleepers although with time you've learned that it's only a game of appearances - the thief and the hunter sleep with one eye open.

With each step, you can hear the repetitive sound more clearly. It's quick, separated by scraping.

The low light of the kitchen makes Sanji look almost inhuman, like the spirit of a chief cook who can't let go of the ship he had spent his entire life on. He's still in the same clothes, although the double-breasted jacket is nowhere in sight. The sleeves of his striped shirt are rolled halfway up his forearms. Where he's standing, the lonely lightbulb illuminates only half of his silhouette. The blond man toes the line of visibility as though he might disappear when you blink.

He looks almost divine.

"Can't sleep?" Sanji asks without looking away from the cutting board.

Only then, when he lets you know he's aware of your presence, do you realize you've been leaning against the doorframe and watching him for a good few minutes. Knowing Sanji, he won't think you odd but you're still a little flustered.

"Yeah. You?" you answer. In a few slow steps you're standing next to him, leaning your lower back against the kitchen counter.

For a moment, Sanji looks away from the cutting board and chopped carrots. His eyes stare into yours for a moment. It's nearly an inborn reflex that a wide smile curves his lips when he sees you.

"Not a fan of sleeping alone," he says and winks at you before going back to cutting vegetables.

The blush on your cheeks darkens a few shades (maybe he won't notice in the kitchen's twilight?). Truthfully, you have entertained that thought more than once and wondered whether similar fantasies kept him awake at night too. But you always dismissed them, thinking it wrong to have such intimate dreams regarding someone who might not even reciprocate your fondness. Sanji is, after all, a ladies' man - flowery words leave his mouth whenever a woman is around, no matter if she's taken or not interested.

Still, you believe there is something more between you and Sanji. Sometimes you think you've deluded yourself into believing this but it's moments like these, like the fond silence you're sharing now, that convince you it's not just your imagination:

Most of the time, the conversation between you and Sanji flows like a swift stream. But now, when the two of you are too tired to sleep, the silence is just as good. Even if you're not exchanging words and ambiguous comments, you feel understood. Like he knows you well enough to be able to guess what's on your mind. And you know what he might say in return, all the advice and wax poetic he revels in telling you. It's perfectly strange to converse with someone without saying a single word.

"Wanna see a trick?" you ask, breaking the silence.

Sanji is putting his chopped vegetables into large bowls. The movement of his hands is both careless and calculated as though he's letting his muscle memory take over the very last step of prepping ingredients for the next day's cooking. He's done this so many times, it's useless to think about the action too much.

"You trying to impress me, princess?" he asks in a low voice with a half-grin plastered on his face. The mischievous glint in his eye never quite seems to go away, especially when you're around.

"Nah," you answer, shaking your head, "just practising to show off in front of Zoro."

Sanji tries to pout but a genuine smile is tugging at the corners of his lips. "Cold."

Still, his eyes are glued to you. Though part of you is convinced it's not because you're about to show him a cheap fair trick. You take one of the teaspoons lying around and lift it in front of your face.

"You better not blink," you warn him.

He gives you a strange look.

"And lose precious few seconds of admiring you? Never."

Like most times, you're not sure how much of his sweet words you can believe.

With a quick move of wrists and fingers, you make the teaspoon disappear. After practising for a few days, the sleight of hand is almost flawless.

Sanji nods with appreciation.

“So you’re a magician, eh?” A low chuckle rumbles in his throat. “This explains how come you’ve bewitched me entirely.”

He leans on his arm against the edge of the counter. His head is slightly tilted as he's looking down at you. The lack of space between your bodies wouldn't raise an eyebrow in any other circumstances but now, when the night is dark and silent, the close proximity makes it hard to breathe. Your chests nervously rise and fall as you're breathing in each other's air.

“Truth be told," you begin in a slightly shaky voice, "I don’t know how to reverse the spell I put on you.”

But it seems as though Sanji has seen through your facade of humour and banter. The playful glint in his eyes mellows, becoming something more heartfelt. Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you must remind yourself to breathe.

“I’m quite content doting on you for the rest of my life."

You clench your jaw and look away for a moment. Flirty banter with Sanji is meant to remain just that - half-hearted comments with no strings attached. The problem is that, against your better judgement, you've been letting his wax poetic weigh down heavy on you, savouring each compliment and ambiguous remark like a soft river wearing down an unmovable boulder over time.

“Sanji," you whisper, "you need to stop saying all those nice things.”

“Why?” His voice is just as breathy and quiet.

“Because I’m starting to believe you.”

Something about his expression changes. You can't quite put a finger on it but Sanji's face looks softer, almost somber. His shoulders become tense as he wipes his hands on the dishrag hanging over his shoulder and tosses it on the countertop.

"Would that be so terrible, love?" Sanji drones his words. Part of you is convinced that he already knows the answer. "To believe that my every thought belongs to you?" His eyelids flutter as his gaze falls to your lips. "That I would tear out my own heart and bring it to you in my teeth if you asked for it?"

The short silence feels unbearable. You can hear your own heart thundering in your chest, beating at your ribcage to finally be freed. To let it make the decision this time.

“Alright, you’ve done it," you whisper more to yourself than to him.

You can hear Sanji sharply inhaling when you grab the collar of his elegant shirt and pull him into a feverish kiss. He tastes like cigarettes and spearmint chewing gum. His shirt is imbued with the smell of cooking oil. All of those strong aromas you've learned to associate with comfort and security.

His lips move against yours with passion and desperation known only to those who made friends with longing. Sanji places his hands around your waist, pulling you even closer to his body. If he could pull you just a little more, merge the two of you into one union, he wouldn't have to go a second without you.

Then, Sanji pulls just an inch away. His hot, heavy breath brushes against your cheeks. Swollen, red lips look even more enticing than they did before.

"Are you really going to woo Zoro with a magic trick?" he asks, somewhat tense.

Your laughter brightens up the dead of night. Sanji feels like his chest is about to burst open with flowers blooming inside his ribcage where his heart should be. And it would have been if he hadn't given it to you the moment you met.

"Just shut up."

Shaking your head, you kiss him again. Still holding you close, Sanji pushes you against the kitchen counter. One of his hands leaves your waist only to rest against the side of your head to deepen the kiss.

It's around 4 A.M. when you wonder whether being in love is like having a song stuck in your head. Or like an echo that forever repeats a single name.

[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[cevansbrat0007]

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Ari gets inventive when he finds himself in the doghouse with you. Be sure to check out the follow-up drabble, Sweet Tooth Deluxe!

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Arch Nemesis', Dominant Ari, Aprons, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec mentioned), Spanking (mentioned), Pussy spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @honeygngergemini. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari leans back in his chair, one long leg coming to rest atop his knee as he levels a hard look at Officer Milton Foster. He scrubs a tired hand over his face, his mind working overtime to process what the young man had just said.

“But that makes zero fucking sense.” He grumbles, groaning when he sees Milton just shake his head.

“Aye, man.” The dark-haired deputy  throws up his hands. “You asked me where I thought you went wrong and I told you.” He turns in his office chair to spare a quick glance at his computer. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

“No one’s being shot, alright? I just don’t get the logic behind any of the shit you just said.”

Couple that with the fact that you’d been icing him out for the past several days for reasons unbeknownst to him – which had left him in a god awful mood. He missed you. Your laugh, your warmth, your smile. 

All of it.

Not to mention that deliciously curvy body that had been keeping him warm at night. He really missed that. More than than anything he needed a fucking kiss.

But you were ignoring him. And Ari had discovered pretty quickly that he didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.

So, he’d turned to what he felt like was his only ally in this god-forsaken town: the newly minted sheriff’s deputy, Milton Foster.

“So you’re really trying to tell me that the reason my woman is pissed at me is because I ate Charline Marshall’s pecan pie at the town potluck, liked it, and asked for seconds.” Ari smooths an annoyed hand over his bearded face. Trying to understand Bell’s Creek’s local politics could really do a number on a person. 

“And don’t forget that she purposely dropped your lady’s bramble berry pie on the ground.” Milton does a quick spin in his chair. “She tried to pretend it was an accident, but most of us know better. Charline Marshall has eyes for you and I think she might be ready to make it known.”

“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t even pick that woman out of a lineup.”  

Milton simply shrugs before taking another spin in his desk chair. “You’ve got a lot of admirers, Mr. Bounty Hunter. A man like you blows into town…well, you’re downright exotic. Every single red-blooded woman under 75 wants a taste.”

Ari visibly shudders before crossing his legs at the ankle. He didn’t want anyone else. This particularly surly Bounty Hunter wanted you. He only wanted to eat your food. Enjoy your sweets. Fall to his knees and devour the fuck out of your pretty little pussy.

“Hard pass, buddy.” Your lawman sighs. “I didn’t know shit about the pie incident. I mean, how could I when she was barely talking to me or anyone at that party?”

“Not saying it’s your fault, big guy. Logically, what would you have been able to do if she had told you?”

Ari looks up at him, his piercing blue gaze never once leaving the young deputy’s. “I would’ve taken her back to my place and spent the rest of the night making her feel better. I would’ve done everything in my power to take my girl’s mind off that petty shit.”

“Mmm.” Milton murmurs as understanding suddenly dawns. “I really don’t wanna get too deep in your business, but your lady is like a sister to me.” He leans back in his chair so that he can kick his feet up on his desk. “We used to play on the playground together as kids. And full disclosure, she used to beat my ass.” The deputy chuckles as he begins to recount all the way you used to be a tiny force of nature. 

“I…can see that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I think your original plan was a good one.” 

“Meaning?” Ari leans over to take a sip of his now cold coffee. It tasted like shit anyway, even when it was hot. In fact he longed for you, his BIrd, to make him one of your little caffeine-infused concoctions – preferably while wearing nothing but his shirt. 

So he could also take a bite out of that luscious ass while you refreshed his mug. After all, he was a man who prided himself on his ability to multitask. 

“Meaning, you need to find a way to distract her while making your point.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re a smart fuckin’ guy who set his sights on someone who could easily be the most stubborn woman in the whole damned state.” A smirking Milton offers up a salute with his can of Dr. Pepper. “That’s for you to figure out. All I can do at this point is wish you luck.” 

“Thanks.” Ari grunts, wishing that he had a better idea of what to do with you.

Oh, rest assured that he’d figure it out. You were too important to him not to. He just hoped you’d find it in your heart to take it easy on him for his mistake. 

The Next Day

You wake up to the smell of cooking sausage wafting into your room. It makes you smile as you stretch your arms over your head. Your stomach growls in agreement, subtly reminding you that you’d neglected to make dinner last night. 

Oops. You hadn’t meant to forget, it had just happened. Normally you would end your night with speaking to your Beast of a Bounty Hunter, who always made sure you ate. But lately, you have been both mad at him and embarrassed.   

Because at a recent town potluck, Ari had eaten your rival’s pecan pie. Now, you weren’t children, but this had also been after she’d purposely sabotaged your own dessert by accidentally dropping it on the ground. 

Charline pretended that it had been a mistake. But the way you’d witnessed her laugh after the fact. And then she’d fed your man, reveling in every minute. You’d known her pecan pie was dry, but Ari had seemed to enjoy it. So much so that he’d asked for a second piece. 

Which was fine, except it had hurt your feelings. And you hadn’t been sure how to relay exactly relay that fact either. So you’d clamped down. You’d bottled up. 

And as a result, your poor, sweet man was suffering. Which meant you needed to apologize. But you weren’t quite sure how to go about it. As you sit up, you vow to yourself to give him a call today. As soon as you sat down and enjoyed your breakfast.

And then it occurs to you. You weren’t the one cooking. Which meant someone was in your house. 

You spring out of bed and grab your Louisville Slugger that you always kept nearby. Taking a deep breath, you quietly make your way down the stairs, your trusty bat poised to take a swing at whatever moron who’d chosen to take up residence in your kitchen.

Baring your teeth, you crest around the corner on bare feet, ready to make your presence known. 

“You gonna hit me, Bird?” Ari muses as he adds a dash of salt, followed by pepper to whatever it is he’s got cooking in the skillet. Your flippin' skillet. “Is that really how this ends? You take me out while I’m being kind enough to whip us up some breakfast?”

Momentarily flummoxed you find yourself lowering your weapon in favor of taking in the scene before you. This man – your Bounty Hunter – was currently standing in your kitchen clad in nothing but an apron. 

Your apron. And yet somehow it fit him better

“Wh–what are you doing?” You ask him, letting your baseball bat clatter to the floor at your feet. You wouldn’t need it. You were safe with this man, but only to a point. “And how’d you get in?” You hadn’t given him a key yet. 

That was supposed to be a present for later. 

“Eh.” Ari shrugs, flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “Maybe I saw my gift and swiped it after the potluck. Maybe you weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t get a read on you, so I had to be an asshole and make an executive decision.” He turns away from you to drop a finished pancake on a plate, giving you a fantastic view of his perfectly muscled ass.

“You mad?” 

“N-no.” You respond as you feel your thighs clench. God, how you wished that you’d come down here wearing pants. “I was actually planning to reach out to you today. Can I ask what you’re doing?” You shiver as you feel your thighs grow damp, your traitorous pussy working against you. 

You should be mad that your Beast had broken into your house. Instead you were happy to see him with a much deserved apology ready to fall from your lips. 

“Making you breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and sausage.” He adds another delicious pancake to the stack. “I’m gonna feed you, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and make you rethink ever ignoring me again.” He purrs, the intoxicating rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest. 

Fuck you were so wet it was almost embarrasing. 

“I’ve earned the rights to that tight little pussy, baby. And when I make a mistake like I did with that goddamned Charline, I want you to tell me.” Ari turns off the range, pulling the food off the heat and onto a plate.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both hating and loving the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirts. Actually, it was one of his. A detail he also seemed to notice. “How can I make it up to you?”

Ari studies you for a moment, his handsome face tilting to the side. And then your eyes stray to the sight of his impressive erection. You watch as one of his big hands reaches down to fist his hard cock, pumping it once. Twice. 

“You can start by going back upstairs. I want you naked, on all fours. I want to come up there and feast my eyes on your soaking wet cunt.” His heated gaze bores into your own, making your already drenched core spasm one more. “And you’d better be wet for me, otherwise I’m gonna spank it. And you.” 

“O-okay.” You find yourself taking a step back, your hand clutching at the wall. 

“I’m gonna eat it baby.” Ari growls, his voice filled with a mix of unbridled lust and determination. “I’m gonna make that pussy fucking cry. And you’re gonna fucking take it. You hear me?”

“Yes.” You whisper, resisting the urge to reach down as you stroke your eager fingers over your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sir.”

He takes a menacing step towards you, his body delighting in the way that you shiver. You’d been bad. Which means it was time to pay the price. And what better man to exact that payment than your own handsome, 6”4 Beast? 

“And then I’m gonna fuck you in front of that brand new mirror I bought you. I’m gonna show you who owns that beautiful body and remind you why it’s important to talk to me when you need me.” Another menacing step. “And then I’m gonna feed those delectable curves after I’ve had my fill.”

“And then…” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna let me kiss it all better while I make love to you.”

“Y-yes, please.” Right now you were willing to give this man whatever he wanted. Whatever helped you atone for your supposed sins.

“There’s a good girl.” He intones as he unties the apron, leaving him naked and aroused in your simple kitchen. “Now run.”

END

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[rheasesposts]

stone

sully family x fem!daughter/sister!navi!reader

summary : Y/N felt off to her family, and her parents were going to get to the bottom of it.

——————————————————————————

“Watch out!” Lo’ak roared to his older sister, Y/N, who was inches away from hitting one of the floating mountains as the two were avoiding sky people bullets. She swerved quickly and raced to be behind Lo’ak once more, being a lookout for them.

“Y/N, Lo’ak, do you copy?” Jake breathlessly transmitted to his children as he scanned the air space for his two most reckless kids. Neytiri flew beside him shooting deathly arrows at sky people’s chests. “Y/N!”

“I am here, we are here.” Y/N logged on, but couldn’t say more as more guns were aimed at her and Lo’ak. Y/N, under her breath, groaned and yielded her bow to shoot at the opposing forces. A battle cry escaped her lips as her arrow planted itself in a soldier’s face. And another. Another. Another. Until no more pellets could be heard fired at Y/N and Lo’ak. Y/N breathed heavily and called for her Ikran to go faster. Her bones were already dully aching again.

“Head to base, our work is done here.” Jake spoke over the comms. Lo’ak and Y/N shared a glance before swooping to fly toward High Camp. Neteyam caught up to them as they landed inside the alcove. Jake and Neytiri checked their three children for any marks and found only small ones.

“My child, I saw you. You were brilliant.” Neytiri praised her daughter who flushed from the compliment. Y/N couldn’t believe it herself since she felt so numb recently.

“I mean they were shooting at us.” Y/N justified and shrugged off her mother’s words. “I am going to spend time with grandmother.”

The four warriors of the Sully family were left standing, not knowing exactly what happened. Neteyam shot Lo’ak a look, and Lo’ak only raised a brow inquisitively. Jake studied his two sons.

“Did someone touch her?” Jake asked Lo’ak. “Like lay a hand on her, got too close.”

“No, we were in the sky.” Lo’ak explained, and Jake stared at the healer tent Y/N ventured into. “Maybe she’s just off, I am sure she’ll be better by tonight.”

Neytiri nodded at her youngest son, “Yes, Ma Jake, it will all be well.” Neytiri kissed his shoulder before walking into the healer tent, too.

——

Y/N felt heavy, like a boulder stuck in between two mountains, waiting to drop and crack everywhere. Not only was there guilt building up inside of her, but her body felt immobile sometimes, like her legs were stone. She couldn’t tell her family because they wouldn’t know how to help her. So, she kept quiet and hoped it would pass.

“Why don’t you come hunt with me?” Neteyam inquired to his sister. Y/N’s body was having a particularly difficult day, and she could barely shift to look at him without wanting to grunt in pain. Neteyam noted the grimace on Y/N’s face and became concerned. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing, Nete, I am fine.” Y/N stiffly stood and walked out of the tent in search of her Ikran, so she could fly away. Neteyam, like before, was left to decipher what just happened. He saw her struggle with getting up and leaving, and Neteyam knew he had to tell someone.

Neteyam spotted his mother by Kiri in the healer’s tent and decided to go to her. Neytiri waited with open arms for her son as he walked straight into them. “I fear there is something wrong with Y/N.”

Neytiri glimpsed down at Neteyam, and a frown overcomes her face, “What do you mean, my child?” She pushed his braids behind his ears.

“She seemed in pain when she was standing up and walking away.” Neteyam told her. Neytiri sighed and looked to Kiri who merely made an awkward smile and lifted her arms in a shruggish manner. “I think you or Dad should talk to her.”

“Yes, thank you.” Neytiri’s kissed her son’s cheek before leaving to find her mate. Jake was leading a small group of hunters through a training course right outside the camp, but he stopped once he saw Neytiri’s urgent expression. He legged over to her and took her face into his hands gently.

“What is it?” Jake said, a little words about what his mate might say.

“Neteyam says Y/N is in pain.” Neytiri answered in a hushed tone. “Struggling physically.”

Jake looked bewildered at this news and shot Neytiri a confused glance. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Neytiri admitted before the both of them were sprinting to their Ikran and mounting the beasts. The two investigated the whole of the floating mountains with no luck in finding their eldest daughter. The next place they looked was the Tree of Souls, and Neytiri could hear a voice from below and knew that was Y/N.

The parents creeped up, trying not to spook their daughter or any other creature nearby. Neytiri and Jake could now hear what Y/N was exactly saying, or praying actually.

“Please, Eywa, I am tired. Show me something, anything to help me. I am so, so tired.” A sob ripped from Y/N’s throat at the end of her prayer. Y/N curled into a ball at the base of the tree and tried find the comfort of Eywa in the roots. Her cries upset Jake and Neytiri deeply because they wanted to help her. “Eywa, please.”

“My daughter, tell me what is wrong.” Neytiri finally whispered and approached Y/N silently. Y/N raised her gaze to her mother, and more tears fell from her yellow eyes. “Oh, my baby.” Neytiri coddled Y/N in her arms, despite Y/N wailing from the discomfort it brought upon her bones. “Y/N, Y/N, please, tell me.”

“I am hurting.” Y/N stuttered out through her cries. Jake sat down on the root next to his mate and daughter. “I feel heavy.”

“What’s hurting?” Jake placed a hand on Y/N’s neck. Y/N fell into her Dad’s embrace with Neytiri still latched on. “Come on, baby.”

“Everything, all the time.” Her ears were flat against her head when she whimpered that to her father. “I ache.”

“My baby.” Jake breathlessly huffed, and Y/N was folded into his side completely after that. “We can help you, Norm can examine you.”

“No, no, no, no, that is only part of it. I am sick, my mind, it won’t go away.” Y/N angrily wailed, and Neytiri shushed her with a gentle rub of the arm. “The voices are just there, they won’t go away. Make them go away!” Neytiri couldn’t watch as her daughter broke down in front of her so vulnerably, yet so brave. “Dad, I want my mind gone.”

“Hey, we can help you with that, too.” Jake mumbled and softly elevated Y/N’s head out of his chest, so they could be eye to eye. “We will help you. You are not alone. Not anymore.”

“Ok.” Was Y/N’s broken response. Y/N fell asleep after awhile of her parents lulling her into a peaceful state. Jake carried to his Ikran and rode home with her nestled into his body. Once home, their other children were up and concerned for their sister. Everyone peered as Y/N and her father laid on the mat, and Neytiri sidling up beside her mate to provide extra support.

The other kids joined the three and dispersed themselves among the dog pile, making sure not to wake the sleeping Y/N. Jake stroked Y/N’s hair and knew she was different, and that he would help his daughter any way he could. Always.

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

--------------------------------------------------

You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

--------------------------------------------------

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

No Such Thing As Monsters

Summary: Dean is injured on a hunt and at first glance, appears to be fine. Quickly though, the reader and Sam learn something far more serious is going on...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, injury

“Dean,” you said, shaking on his shoulder, his eyes flashing open, fist tightening around his angel blade. “You’re okay. Sam took care of the ghoul. How’re you doing?”

“I feel like I just went through a wall,” he said, shakily getting to his feet, cocking his head at the damaged sheetrock in front of him. “Looks like I did.”

“You sure you okay?” you asked, his head nodding. “Sam’s driving us home, just in case.”

“No arguments from me,” he said, giving Sam a nod when he showed up, following his brother the few blocks over to where you’d parked Baby. Dean grabbed the passenger door, slamming his hand on the roof.

“Dean...” said Sam. Dean scrunched up his face, placing a hand on his head. “Dean.”

“Take me to a hospital,” gritted out Dean, your eyes wide. “Now.”

“What’s wrong?” you said, shoving him in the backseat instead, climbing in beside him as Sam started gunning it for the closest one.

“My head. Something’s wrong. I don’t...just hurry.”

Eight Hours Later

Your excuse of Dean taking a hard fall worked with the doctors but you and Sam were staring at one another after finally getting to see Dean again.

“Let’s talk outside,” said the neurologist, Dean giving you a smile as you followed her out.

“What is wrong with my brother, Sally?” asked Sam the second the door to Dean’s room was shut. 

“Retrograde amnesia as far as I can tell. He remembers certain things like his name, date of birth, address when he was a child. You’re lucky I was on call tonight to take his case. Neuro patients are hard enough, especially one’s that are hunters and have to lie about everything,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Sally, amnesia...isn’t that supposed to fade after a few hours at most?” asked Sam.

“Normally,” she said, taking a deep breath. “My best guess is a combination of lasting amnesia which will be hard to recover from but we can help him...and then he’s repressing all the hunting without realizing. You guys have seen some serious crap I’m sure he’d rather forget.”

“What do you mean repressing?” you asked. 

“I mean, Dean thinks monsters are made up, creatures from stories. He doesn’t know they’re real,” she said. You raised an eyebrow, Sam shaking his head. “He doesn’t remember the ghoul, he doesn’t remember the Vamp you guys took care of for me years ago. Monsters aren’t real to him,” said Sally.

“He’s known monsters were real his whole life,” said Sam.

“Technically, since he was four, almost five,” said Sally. “There was a time when he didn’t think any of this was real so it is possible.”

“You’re telling me Dean thinks he’s five?” you said. “He’s in his thirties.”

“He doesn’t think he’s five. He just doesn’t remember certain things. Like he understands basic long term memories, who his parents are, who Sam is...more recent things he’s blocked out,” she said. “Either by choice or because he really can’t remember.”

“Does he remember me? I only started running with the guys about five years ago,” you said.

“He knows your name and that he loves you but that’s about it. The details are all fuzzy for him. Now Dean’s not exactly what I’d call a normal patient. He’ll get thrown in an institute if he starts remembering here in a hospital and God knows what’ll happen to him in there,” she said.

“What do we do then?” asked Sam, Sally sighing and grabbing a chart from the nurses station.

“He has no bleeding in his head, just a few minor cuts and bruises from his tussle. Take him home, try to get him to remember. Any problems and you guys call me. I’ll get you some materials that help sometimes,” she said.

“What if he doesn’t remember?” said Sam.

“Then he doesn’t. Either way, you need to be there for him. You guys gotta get going. The other neurologist starts his shift in an hour and he’s going to want to look at Dean if he’s still here.”

Dean was quiet on the way home, sitting in the backseat, leaning against the backdoor as he stared out the window. Sam simply went through the motions, making him dinner, sending him to bed after checking his bandages, Dean wearing a confused but happy smile the whole time. 

“Y/N,” said Sam, catching you sipping on a drink the library, stealing the bottle to pour himself some.

“What are we going to do Sam?” you asked. “He’s...”

“Do you remember when I saved you from that fire? You promised you’d do anything I wanted. Anything. I told you maybe someday I’d take you up on it. We both know I was never going to but this...I’m cashing that favor in, Y/N,” he said, taking a long swig.

“Using a spell to get his memories back might be dangerous, Sam,” you said, earning a head shake.

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact that my big brother thinks the world is normal. The weight of it isn’t on his shoulders anymore. He’s so light and happy. You’re gonna pack up his stuff, pack up your stuff, and you’re going to take him to a little cabin that used to be Bobby’s. It’s not that far out in the boonies so you’ll have electricity and internet and then...you’re gonna help him get a job, get a job yourself and you two are going to get the hell out of this life,” he said.

“Sam that is not-”

“You’re doing this. If something comes after you, you can protect him. Try it for me. If he starts to remember on his own, come back but please, give it a try.”

Two Days Later

“I thought we lived at the bunker place?” asked Dean, sitting down at your new kitchen table, watching you whip up an easy dinner. 

“We live here now,” you said, stirring the pot, taking a deep breath. 

“What do we do now?” he asked with a smile. “Do I go to work?”

“We’ll find you a new job,” you said, Dean pursing his lips. “What is it Dean?”

“You’re not happy,” he said. “I want to fix it but I don’t remember how to do that.”

“We both have to get used to this new life,” you said, giving him a nod. “We will. I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean.”

“I love you though. Of course I worry about you,” he said with a smirk.

“You don’t even remember my birthday,” you said with a smile.

“I guess I get to learn everything I love about you all over again then,” he said. “I do know I love you. I definitely remember that.”

“I love you too Dean. Every version of you. We’ll get through this too.”

[theminecraftbee]

Also, shoutout to Impulse for getting stuck in two of those worlds in ONE DAY. Joe revealed that the recording for what we now know as vault hunters was also last monday. Impulse is really going through it.

Impulse sweats. For the past several minutes, Iskall has been staring at him and "hmmm"-ing for some reason. His only solace is that he's also doing it to Etho, but it's still making Impulse feel like he's got something weird on his face. That, or Iskall has suddenly and unexpectedly transformed back into his original villager state. One or the other.

He glances at Etho, who shrugs awkwardly at Impulse. He looks back at Iskall, who is still 'HMMM'-ing, increasingly furiously.

"Do you think he wants us to say something?" Etho asks.

"I mean, I guess?" Impulse says. "He could just ask."

"He's just going to keep humming at us, though," Etho says. "That's scary."

"Scary?" Impulse says, blankly.

"HMMMMM," Iskall says with an irritated expression.

"Scary," Etho confirms. Impulse sighs.

"Okay, I'll handle it. Hey, Iskall," Impulse says.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Iskall blatantly lies.

"Right. You're, uh, sounding a bit concerned, buddy," Impulse says.

"Right, yes. Very concerned. Did you know you and Etho are already claimed? And, like, super cursed."

"Uh, I got a divorce with Cleo, you know," Etho says, completely straight-faced. "I'm a bachelor now. Not claimed by anyone."

"I'm not sure Bdubs and I ever got a divorce," Impulse says.

"No, no, not claimed like that! Claimed like--I did warn you all, yes? That my patrons would not like it if you came with other gods all over you? They get jealous of each other, let alone whoever you have... doing that to you."

Impulse and Etho glance at each other again. Impulse looks back at Iskall. "Yeah, I think I'd remember if I were claimed by any gods. I don't really... worship any, these days."

"If I worship any gods, Iskall, they're not the kind yours can do anything about," Etho says.

"What?" Impulse says.

"I mean, I'm old! I'm old, Impulse! I've met a lot of gods! Some of them I have opinions on!" Etho says.

"No, I've met yours too, they won't cause problems, yeah?" Iskall says.

"Thank goodness," Etho says.

"Sometimes I forget how old you two are," mutters Impulse. "That doesn't answer the whole... already claimed?"

"Yeah, like, it stinks off of you to me. It's like... you've got... someone's already claimed you to kill players, not mobs. And your health is all wonky. And you're keeping secrets or... kept secret? And don't even get me STARTED on how much time you have. All wrong. Who did you even find to do that to you?"

Impulse freezes.

"...the time was last season," he says, finally.

"Last season? What?" Iskall says.

"Yeah, that was--you know what, tell your gods not to worry about it," Impulse says. "I'm sure it's. Fine? Hey, wait, how can you tell?"

Iskall shakes his head like he's trying to knock something out of his ear. "They're annoying about it. Make whatever curse you're under go away while you're here or they're going to make it my problem. Mine! As though I can do anything about it. Go to the mortal world, they say. Bring your friends back here, they say. We want to meet them, they say. They're so annoying."

Etho, without skipping a beat, says: "Yeah, are those gods or the mother I saw last night?"

There's an ominous roll of thunder.

"Oh, definitely your mom," he says. There is a second, even more ominous roll of thunder happens, somehow entirely focused on Etho's location. Impulse decides to ignore it.

"I'll bother Grian about it," Impulse decides. He somewhat doubts Grian is a god--man, he really, really hopes Grian isn't a god, actually--but maybe he knows that Secret Keeper guy. That feels like the kind of guy who probably did this to them.

"Do that," Iskall says, and he wanders off to bother Stress.

Etho watches him go. "You know, maybe we should worry about the fact we're cursed because of the Life games. That seems, uh, bad," he says.

Impulse thinks about it and shrugs. "Eh, what's the worst that can happen?"

A long silence.

"Don't answer that," he tells the silence, before it can ominously thunder again. He knows the kinds of things that will lead to gods mocking him, after all.

[theeoriginals]

Idea: Reader is part of the scooby gang (an adult doing them a favour or something - pls not a teenager it makes me cringe) and Klaus catches her staring (because obviously) and is cocky and flirty and likes riling her up

i just like you | klaus mikaelson

author's note; this was so fun omfg i love him sm

warnings: honestly sort of grumpyxsunshine but somehow klaus is the sunshine here ? teasing, taunting, klaus is a flirty menace, reader is super in denial, implied that reader is a vampire hunter but it's not really important, also this exists in some sort of strange canon universe so don't read into it too much, fluff, making out, a steamy-ish scene at the end, but it doesn't get too graphic so don't worry! no use of y/n!

She doesn’t like owing people favors. She doesn’t like when other people owe her favors, either, but people seem to think that trading things off is the best way to live, and she’s hardly got the power to change something so universally accepted. 

She doesn’t like owing people favors, but in this case, it’s not something she can renegotiate. Alaric saved her life, and the least she could do is help him out with something. 

Her view on that changes very quickly when he looks at her and tells her they want her to make a deal with the devil. In fact, she’d rather Alaric had just let her die than ask her to do anything with or for Klaus Mikaelson. 

“I would quite literally rather die than do that, Ric,” She deadpans, givin him a completely unamused look that makes him grimace. 

“No, I know, I know,” He holds his hands up, a desperation to his pleading tone. “It’s a lot to ask of you, but no one else can deal with him like you do. They’d end up dead, or something,” 

“Why do you think I can deal with him any differently than you, or Damon, or something? I hate him just as much!” 

“Oh, well, that’s just not very nice of you, darling,” The man in question drawls, smirk audible in his voice as they look over to where he’s sitting on Alaric’s couch, looking like he practically lives there. She supposes he technically did, for a minute. “Hate is such a strong word.” 

She gives him a saccharine smile, tilting her head. “I’m so sorry, Klaus, did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t know that evil hybrids who kill anyone who breathes wrong could have feelings.” 

Klaus’s smirk only widens at her visible ire, and he props his chin up on his hand as he looks at her. “I have every feeling for you, sweetheart,” 

Her eyes momentarily widen to the size of dinner plates, and then she quickly schools her expression back into a flat glare, snapping her gaze away from him as she huffs unhappily. “You want me to deal with that all day, Alaric? By myself? I thought we were friends,” 

“We are friends,” He stresses, shooting Klaus a warning look that the Original dutifully ignores. “That’s why I’m asking you to do this. All you have to do is make the drive up to Whitmore and get the rest of Isobel’s stuff– we need to see if she has any information on the cure, or anything like that.” 

“Doesn’t Bonnie have that professor guy that was telling her a bunch of stuff? Can’t we just go to him?” 

“Damon doesn’t trust that guy,” Alaric says. “And before you ask, no, you can’t make Damon go. He and Klaus will kill each other if they’re in the same vehicle for that long.” 

“He’s right about that,” Klaus says, still happily in his place on the couch. “Damon’s got such a temper these days. Can’t even handle a joke anymore.” 

She scrunches her face up, giving him an incredulous look. “The only jokes you make are about the time you tried to kill Elena,” 

“How would we cope if we couldn’t make jokes about these sorts of things?” 

Her incredulity only deepens and she drags her gaze back to Alaric pointedly, earning an exhausted sigh from the teacher. “Klaus,” He starts, that same desperation still in his voice. “Can we all just play nice? For once we have something to be united about– could you possibly not jeopardize everyone’s lives again?” 

Klaus heaves a sigh, standing from the couch in a swift movement and crossing the short distance to where they stand. “Certainly. I’m nothing if not professional, you know this.” 

“Uh huh,” Alaric deadpans. “Can you be… professional enough to not provoke her into leaving you stranded somewhere, or something?” 

“I’m sure we can work something out,” The hybrid drops his gaze to hers, bright eyes alight with mischief. “So long as she stops pouting.” 

She huffs, dutifully not pouting. Narrowing her eyes, she offers a hand out to him, ignoring the amusement that sparks in his eyes at her formalness. “It’s for the greater good of all of us, right? I’m sure I can suffer through anything for that.” 

Klaus shakes her hand firmly, and she ignores the way it feels like he’s laughing at her. “I’m sure you can.” 

────── 

“I take it all back, I’m going to murder him, and then myself.” 

“Hello to you, too. I take it it’s going well?” Alaric’s voice comes through the speaker of her phone as she walks beside Klaus, ignoring the crowds of college students they’re pushing their way past to head to Isobel’s old office. 

“Oh, it’s going so well, besides the fact that our vehicle just broke down as soon as we got to Whitmore.” 

She can practically hear Alaric’s wince of sympathy through the phone. “Can’t Klaus just compel you another vehicle?” 

“You would think so, but I already tried that, and he said it wouldn’t be very cooperative of him to take advantage of people. He’s apparently all for the teamwork these days,” She shoots him a glare, face twisting into one of disdain when all he does is give her a wide smirk. “Alaric, I cannot be stranded here with him. It was one thing if it was a few hours, but I cannot survive any longer than that.” 

Alaric breathes out her name on an exasperated sigh, and she tries to ignore the slight pin prick of guilt that stabs at her because of it. “Have you called a mechanic or anything?” 

She bites the tip of her tongue roughly. “Yeah. They’re coming to tow it, and they said it’ll be like, tomorrow morning at the earliest before it’s done.” 

“Can you survive the night? For real? Or do you want me to drive up there and get you?” 

She nearly blurts out that she won’t survive, that he needs to come get her as soon as he leaves work, but she stops herself, eyes drifting to Klaus, who seems to be awaiting her answer as well. Sighing tiredly, she shakes her head, even though Alaric can’t see her. “I’ll be fine, I’m just being dramatic. Don’t worry about me, alright? I– Klaus and I will handle this. It’s no big deal, I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m positive,” She reassures, stopping at the steps that lead to Isobel’s office building. “I’ll text you later tonight after we’ve had some time to go through some of the stuff, okay?” 

“Okay. Thank you,” He sounds infinitely less stressed at her reassurances, and the guilt she’d been feeling dissipates easily. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

She echoes the goodbye and quickly pockets her phone again, immediately turning to Klaus to give him a glare that she can’t even really call a glare because of the complete and utter lack of any real heat behind it. Gesturing widely to the building before them, she sighs. “Let’s get this over with.” 

The office is devoid of any lingering students, and she wonders if it was done on purpose. The only person there besides her and Klaus is the girl at the desk, and she racks her brain for the girl’s name, because Alaric had told her earlier before they left. 

“Hi,” She starts, stepping in front of Klaus slightly as they approach the desk. “Alaric called earlier and said we’d be coming up to get some of Isobel’s research, I think?” 

The girl stands, a small smile on her face as she nods. “Of course. I’m Vanessa, I was Isobel’s intern.” 

Vanessa, she internally scolds herself for not remembering, before giving her name back in return. “And this is Klaus.” 

The Original offered a charming smile, and she saw some degree of recognition flutter in Vanessa’s eyes as her smile grew wider, equally charmed and awed. “Lovely to meet you, Vanessa,” 

“You’re Klaus Mikaelson, aren’t you?” She breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief as she leads them to Isobel’s private office. “Isobel was fascinated  with the story of the Originals, but there wasn’t ever enough information to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.” 

Klaus hums, practically preening under the attention. “Such are the consequences of living as long as I have. I can hardly remember what’s real and what’s not,” 

Vanessa’s face lights up with an idea, and she steps towards Klaus excitedly. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions? It would do our research a lot of good to have something new,” 

“Oh, well–” 

“We have a lot to do,” She quickly cuts in over their voices, offering a sharp smile to Vanessa. “But if we have time later, I’m sure he’d love to give you a tell-all interview.” 

Vanessa’s smile dims slightly but she nods, gesturing for them to go into the open office. “It’s all in there. Let me know if you need my help with anything.” 

“We will definitely do that,” She says, ignoring the twitch in her fingers as pushes Klaus into the office ahead of her. “Thank you so much!” 

She shuts the door firmly behind her and lets out a sharp sigh, her eyes fluttering open where she hadn’t even realized they’d shut. She finds Klaus staring at her, and immediately looks away, ducking past him to head for one of the packed boxes in the office, collecting dust. “What?” 

Klaus makes an amused little hum in the back of his throat. “Oh, nothing,”

“There’s clearly something,” 

“There is, but I don’t think you’d enjoy hearing it from me,” 

She halts her movements, hands falling limp on the file folders sorted neatly inside one box. Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m curious as to what Vanessa did to earn your disdain,” He says, shrugging lightly, keeping his voice purposefully aloof. 

She rolls her eyes, returning to pilfering through the box, skimming the labels on the file. “She was distracting you. We came here to do something, and we need to do it. That’s all.” 

He makes that irritating noise again, and she pauses once more, this time turning to face him fully. “What? What is so funny about that? Might I remind you, we need to learn about this cure for you just as much as anyone else.” 

He smirks, picking up a box from the floor and putting it on the table in front of him. “Of course. But only if you admit you were jealous,”

She feels the blood in her veins freeze as she stares at him, and she knows there’s a dawning look of horror growing on her face. “Excuse me?” 

“Just admit that you were jealous of that poor girl in there, and I will do as much research as you want me to. It’s very simple.” 

“Jealous,” She echoes, her voice faint the longer she looks at him. “You think that I was jealous because some college kid was treating you like you were the lead singer in her favorite boy band?” 

“Maybe not her favorite boy band, but certainly her favorite Original,” He corrects, grinning deviously. 

“I wasn’t jealous!” She yells somewhat hysterically, face twisting as her pulse races. “I– I have no reason to be jealous, I would never be jealous, I’m not– I’m not jealous! Just– shut up!” 

She waves a hand in his direction, ignoring the warmth in her chest that stings like embarrassment. “Just– shut up, and– and leave me alone! Do what we came here to do,” 

Klaus holds his hands up in surrender, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Whatever you say,” 

────── 

They’ve booked a hotel for the night, despite the fact that she’d sooner sleep on the street than stay in a hotel with Klaus Mikaelson. But he graciously offered to pay for it, and she was determined to pretend like their conversation earlier had never happened and that meant acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

It meant letting him order them room service, and sitting quietly while they ate. It meant letting him tease and taunt her like he normally did, and working overtime to give him the normal reactions she would have– a glare here and there, a not-so-nice name everywhere else. 

Except now it felt like it was all wrong. It felt like she was being even more obvious than before. All because he called her out. Because he was right. 

Just out of sheer principle, she couldn’t ever tell him that. The last thing he needed was that particular ego boost, from her of all people. 

Their relationship has always been antagonistic, but Klaus has never been nearly as harsh as she has. And now that she’s spent the last six hours thinking about every single interaction they’ve ever had, she feels somewhat stupid for not even letting herself contemplate the idea that she could one day be jealous over Klaus Mikaelson. 

But even in that same vein, she understands why it never crossed her mind until he pointed it out. It was non-negotiable, having any sort of relationship like that with Klaus. She’d been friends with Alaric since he first met Isobel, she couldn’t just go and sleep with the guy who killed his girlfriend, let alone have feelings for him. 

The thought alone made her stomach swirl with guilt, but she was determined to not let Klaus in on any of her inner turmoil, considering he’d get some insane satisfaction out of the fact that it’s all his fault. 

By the time they make their way to the private bedroom in the ridiculously grand hotel room Klaus had gotten them for the night, it doesn’t really register in her mind that they not only don’t have any sort of pajamas due to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be an overnight trip, but the only bedroom in the suite has one bed. 

It doesn’t register in her mind until she’s already in bed, resigned to the fact that she’ll be sleeping in her t-shirt and underwear, and Klaus makes his way over to the bed like it’s no big deal. 

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?” 

He raises a brow at her, gesturing to the bed. “Going to bed. We’ve got an early morning ahead of us if you have any chance of making it back to Mystic Falls alive.” 

She rolls her eyes at his taunting recollection of her complaints, and she holds up a hand, keeping the blankets tucked carefully around her hips as she sits up. “Why wouldn’t you get a room with two beds?” 

“Because it’s one night, darling,” He drawls, signature smirk twitching on his lips. “But if you have some particular feeling that would make sharing a bed with me uncomfortable, then I–”

“No!” She cuts him off, feeling like she was just backed into a corner. “No issue. Just– keep your hands to yourself.” 

He winks at her, and she ignores the way it makes her heart race. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” 

She shuffles back down into the bed and turns onto her side away from him, suddenly too conscious of the fact that she doesn’t have any pants on, and that if someone had told her this morning she’d be pantsless, in bed with Klaus Mikaelson, she probably would’ve punched them and then spent the rest of her life dreaming about it. 

It’s only slightly humiliating. 

Once Klaus is settled in the bed, presumably undressed to the same degree she is if the shuffling she’d heard a minute ago was anything to go by, he turns the lamp off, encasing them in darkness. 

After too long, her hip starts to ache the longer she lays on her side, and she knows there’s no chance she’ll fall asleep with it throbbing like it is, so she resigns herself to the fact that she’s going to have to move. 

Careful of her spacial awareness, she turns onto her back, and then onto her other side, unable to stop her eyes from landing on the shadows of Klaus’s profile. 

She lets out a small breath, shakier than normal, and clutches her hand against the pillow beneath her head. 

“You’re staring,” 

She groans quietly. “I am not,” 

“You know, I don’t know if I should be honored or not that you don’t act like this with anyone else.” 

She squeezes the pillow again, brows furrowing on her forehead. Her curiosity piqued, despite her best interests. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you’re horrifically antagonistic on a good day, and downright murderous on a bad one. But you don’t ever lose your temper with anyone else like you do with me,” He observes, voice unintentionally quiet in the privacy of the darkness. If she didn’t know any better, she’d even say it was laced with fondness. 

Pressing her face into her pillow briefly to try and collect herself, she lets her eyes trace the curve of his nose, and his prominent cupid’s bow, backlit by the moon shining in the window. She wonders what he looks like beneath a full moon. She wonders if his eyes shine that burning yellow-gold color the entire night. 

“You do it on purpose,” She mutters, trying to keep her tone from sounding as childish as it does in her head. “I’m not stupid, Klaus. You like riling me up.” 

She hears more than sees his head turn towards her, but she feels the burn of his eyes on her face like the summer sun. 

“Did you ever consider that I just like when you talk to me?” He asks, sounding entirely more vulnerable than she ever thought he was capable of being. 

Her breath stutters on an exhale, and she knows he can hear the way his words make her entire body trip up. Despite being unable to truly meet his eyes in the dark, she searches for them anyway, seeking out the truth that may lie in them. 

He murmurs her name, soft and sweet between the sheets wrapped around them, and she can’t stop herself from pushing forward into his space, draping herself across his chest as she presses their lips together. 

She’s instantly satisfied to hear the shocked noise that spills from his lips, but it’s the last coherent thought she can form once he mirrors her utter desperation. 

He steals the breath from her lungs, barely letting her gasp between his greedy kisses, his hands pulling her further into him, leaving her practically on top of him. 

His hands slide up the fabric of her shirt, grabbing at the bare skin there, groaning at the feel of her moving beneath his touch. 

“Klaus,” She gasps out, panting at the spit-slick sounds of their lips together in the quiet of the hotel room. “Klaus, I have to–” 

She forcibly pulls herself away from him, unable to even blame him for the way she let herself get so caught up as she catches her breath, looking down from where she’s propped above him. 

They fall silent, matching each other’s frantic but slowing breaths as their spilled-over tension finally seems to simmer out. 

A huff of a laugh comes from beneath her and she frowns slightly, looking at him. “What?” 

His hands clench where they’re still gripping her waist, and she visibly shivers at the rough touch. “You were jealous, weren’t you?” 

She instinctively slaps a hand against his bare shoulder, wondering how she hadn’t noticed he’d taken his shirt off when he got into bed. “You are such a dick,” She shakes her head, but she’s already leaning back in to kiss him again despite herself. 

Klaus is quick to meet her halfway, craning his neck up to kiss her again, and she lets out a sudden yelp as he flips them around, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. “Let me make it up to you,” 

She’s nodding before he even finishes speaking, and she thinks, tells herself, that she can’t be faulted for how quickly she forgives him after that.

[crowcravesmore]

Dead Girl Walkin' (Frank Castle x F!Reader)

AKA 'Bounty & Bliss'

Frank Castle x F!Reader (18+)

+ After a mission gone wrong, you end up on the wrong side of Fisks gun, and now you're a wanted woman. You have 30 hours of freedom before every bounty hunter in New York has his eyes on you, so of course you run straight to Frank. Oh how he loves the sight of you.

Word Count: 5.1k ( It's actually impossible for me to write a "short" fic. I'm a wordy bitch, I can't help it. I love to talk.)

Warnings: Cursing, violence, reader getting beat tf up (She's got powers it's fine), explicit content/smut, Frank being such a softie for you, fluff (is that a warning?).

A/N: LETS GO FRANK CASTLE LOVERS! I absolutely adore this man, and I think it shows in how I write him. This is an oldie from my previous blog, but it's one of my favorite fics I've ever written. It's a long one so buckle up. (This fic was absolutely based on the song Dead Girl walking from Heathers the musical. Take that as you will.)

+ + +

It was an absolute fact that you weren't gonna die a peaceful death. Yeah no, you were gonna go out one of two different ways. One, a Bruce Willis, Die Hard type thing with at least two explosions. Or two, someone else is gonna punch your card for you. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, that's it. 

Frank threw a guess in once. Said you’d probably go out saving a bunch’a kids from a burning building or something, because you're a soft ass like that, Sunshine, that’s why. He was three stitches deep on his right arm, and shooting you looks from his side of the couch. Ain’t that right, Sunshine?

Nope. nuh-uh, not even close. You get a grand total of thirty hours, all Courtesy of Mr. Kingpin himself. Fisk. What kind of name is Fisk anyway? It sounds too much like Fist, or fish, either way it’s awkward. You’re just being pissy, because you got caught, and Fisk is rubbing it in your face. 

Third punch is to your jaw, and that’s the one that knocks you, and the chair you're strapped to, back. You’re taking this whole thing in stride, you haven't passed out or anything. Be proud of that. After the fourth punch Fisk finally waves his hand and lets— what's his name? Rick? This guy looks like a Rick —stop. You ever been hit with brass knuckles by a heavyweight? It sucks. 

You were hired by an unnamed client to sneak into Fisks club, and put mics anywhere you could. It was easy getting in without being noticed, unfortunately for you Fisk has eyes everywhere. Fortunately for you one of your powers is strength, so a couple of blows by a heavyweight won't kill you. It fucking hurts though. 

Fisk says something, but he’s standing on the other side of the room and your ears are still ringing, so he really says nothing. He turns, catches your eyes, and there's a curious sort of smile on his face. Your ears are still ringing but, over all of the noise, you catch him say ‘Again’, and brace yourself for impact. 

Rick, son of a bitch, knocks you hard, just under your eye and you can practically hear the bruise forming. You must’ve blacked out for a second because when you blink there’s Fisk, dropped to his haunches in front of you. It takes thirty seconds after you start drooling blood for him to start back up. 

“You’re a real woman, you know that?” 

“And what does that make you?” Your voice doesn't even sound like you, it’s too scratchy, and your words are hard to make out. 

Fisk sort of ignores you and says,“And Because I'm a nice guy,” Pulling a white handkerchief—Christ—out of his shirt pocket and wiping your mouth. “I'm gonna make this easy on you, how bout’ forty eight hours? Sound good?” 

You’re so stubborn. Like, way too stubborn for your own good, that’s what you’re gonna tell Frank when you explain why you spit your blood in Fisks face. And because you’re a real woman. 

“Thirty hours,” Fisk says, gripping the bottom half of your shirt, using it to wipe his face, and standing up. “Butch,—” So that’s his name, he looks like a Butch. “Show her the door.” 

Brace for impact. 

You can't be that mad though, I mean come on. After that stunt you pulled at the Quagmire tonight you’re surprised you’re even still walking-uh -running. So yeah, thirty hours and after that you’re gonna be a goddamn beacon of come get me for every baddie in New York. Okay, you gotta stop running or else you’re gonna pull something, and catching a cramp probably isn’t the best thing for you right now...just sayin’. 

You pitch from a sprint to a light jog and eventually stop, bowing over and pressing your hands to your knees. A long groan crawls out of you, and you shake your head. The middle of 10th and 42nd isn’t the place to let it hit you. Clear your throat, spit, stand back up, keep walking. 

You decide to swerve out of the road and onto the sidewalk, that way you’re not ass out for everyone to see. And it’s a helluva sight. You’ve got a bruise forming just under your right eye and your nose is busted to shit, not to mention the blood- that you’re not even sure is all yours- caked over you. All that and you probably smell like a back alley. 

You shift and adjust, turn right toward the dock, and pick up the pace. 

‘I can run,’ you think, digging your thumbnail into your palm. ‘haul ass to Seattle, become some poor fisherman's wife.’  

That doesn't sound all too bad, besides the fact that Fisk has got eyes all over this goddamn city. You so much as even look toward the bridge and his thirty hours-oh-mercy are gone. Poof! You won't even make it out of New York.

A street light flicks off for a second before coming back to life, and you dig in your back pocket, fishing for your phone. It’s a mess of cracks and smeared blood, but still manageable. You click it on and the screen gives a few half assed flashes of light before turning on. Yeah, still manageable. 

You wipe the screen against your shirt and pull it back, checking the time. Twelve oh five. Good, he's still up. 

•

Frank's van is static under the west bridge, just next to the pier. It’s a beige camper he’s had since way back when, and is still too sentimental to give up. It’s rusted, a hubcaps gone missing, and the battery is standing on it’s last leg, but don’t ever tell Frank it’s anything less than perfect.  Seriously, buddy, don't do it. 

You called it a piece of junk once, something mumbled between Frank trying to turn the engine over and almost flooding it. 

“If you don’t like it that much, Sunshine, you can walk back.” He shakes his head and turns the key over again. The engine makes an almost awkward sort of noise. Something like a cr-r-r-eek! Before gray smoke creeps its way from under the hood. “God fucking damnit.” 

You're ninety percent sure the only reason he didn't knock your head through the window is because he's got a soft spot for you....Eighty-five percent. 

Your boot knocks against an empty can, probably oil, and Max pokes his head up. He's lying right outside the van's side door, tucked halfway under it with his head on his paws. You go still and try to remember if this dog actually liked you or not. 

When he doesn’t move you chalk it up to a definite maybe, and start walking again. He lets out a few half assed growls before crawling from under the van and barking, loud and proud. You throw caution out the window and speed walk toward him, forgetting the fact that he’s a full grown pitbull, and wave your hands in front of you, shh shh shh! No, doggy. Nice, Max! You got a million different scenarios playing in your head, and none of them are good. 

Max is howling now, nose pointed to the sky and oh sonofabitch.

You hear a gun cock over your head and now you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun. This was the fourth scenario. At the end of that is Frank, standing in a pair of raggedy sweatpants, an old NYU tee, and-Christ he's not even wearing any shoes. 

You're still a little wobbly in the legs so you press your hand against the doorframe, and lean. That's it. Play it cool, nice and steady. 

“Hey, Frank.” You say, and then. “Can I come in?” You're batting against four hours of sleep and maybe a concussion, so hey, frank is the best you're gonna do. 

His shoulders slump down and he points the gun away from you, eyes moving three speeds too fast. Like I said earlier, you’re a helluva sight, girl. 

“You look like the back end of hell.” He says, side stepping to let you in, eyes catching on your knuckles. They aren’t the worst of it, but you can tell a lot about a person from their hands, and Frank’s getting the whole goddamn story. 

You step up into the kitchen—living room?—and focus on everything you’ve already seen before. The sketchy stain on the ceiling, the empty Budweiser cans, your feet. Just for good measure you pick up a roll of gauze and turn it over in your hand, because this is the most interesting thing in the world, not your bloody knuckles. And definitely not Frank who’s staring down your back, shooting imaginary laser beams your way. Pew pew pew.  I’m calling it now, he’s gonna get mad. You know it, I know it, so just fucking face the music before he- 

“So,” oh-Kay. He clicks the third deadbolt, and leans his back against the door, gun cocked on the wall, and arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna haveta’ guess?” 

He doesn't have to guess, because he already knows. But, he's gonna lean back and give you a chance to say it before he starts pulling teeth. 

“This was once in a lifetime, Frank.” You're pushing out excuses and he's barely said anything. “There was an opening-” 

“Y/n, what the hell did you do?” 

Franks more worried than actually confused. He knows you're in some deep-I'm talking chasm into hell deep- shit, he's just worried he's not gonna be able to pull you out. 

“I went to the Quagmire, and Fisk was there.” You wring your hands because of the look he gives you. Priceless. “I had a shot, I took it, I—” 

“Tell me you killed him.” He's shaking his head, tilt up, and looking at the roof. He's about to start praying, and lord knows he hasn't done that in a while. “Tell me you killed him, Y/n.” 

The throbbing behind your eye is enough to remind you that no, you didn't. You came damn close though, I'll give you that. 

Frank blinks, slow squeeze, and groans something low in the back of his throat. He drops his head and drags a hand down his jaw, you're gonna be the death of him if you keep this shit up. 

“And,” you gotta get it out now, if you don't do it now you're gonna hate doing it later. “I got a bounty on me.” 

“Course you do,” he's looking at you again, but his foot is tapping against the linoleum, so he's beyond mad now. “Is it active?” 

You shake your head. “No, I got thirty hours.” You would have forty eight, but he doesn't need to know that...or why you don't anymore. 

“Shiiit,” he almost laughs. “Bastard gave you a helluva’ lot more time than me.” His eyebrows tilt down and you catch the way his eyes track along your knuckles. You're standing in front of him, and in this light he can finally get a good look at you. And he doesn't like it. “What'd they do to you, Sunshine?” 

There it is. You let out a halfhearted dry laugh and say. “Butch, son of a bitch has a solid right hook.” 

“I bet I got better,” He says, lips upturning a bit. 

You say. “Oh, I know you do.” And that's it, you're both drawn back into a moment that definitely shouldn't happen. Christ, girl, the man's a vigilante with a truckload of baggage. Stay away. Don't do it to yourself. 

You gotta dodge this shit, so you say. “So, what do I do now?” 

He gives you a quick once over and pushes himself off the wall. “First, you gotta take a shower, get your mind right.” He stalks over to the hall closet, and starts pulling out random things; a towel, a washcloth, sweatpants, and one of his Rolling Stones T-shirts. He tosses a Then we'll talk, and figure out our next move. over his shoulder and that knocks you back a minute. 

Our. Don't dwell on that. Nope, nope, do not do it. You nod, walk over to him, and say. “Thank you, Franky.” Franky’s something only you’d get away with saying, just like he gets away with the whole sunshine thing. It’s weird, you’re weird, leave it alone.

When you reach him he pulls back, giving you this half look between you really okay? and it's okay if you're not. Oh, God, he's gonna have your eyes in the shape of hearts if he keeps this up. 

“I'm fine,” You reach a bit more, and he meets you halfway, pushing everything towards you. “You better have hot water though.” 

“Baby, you know I do.” 

“Mhm, that's what you said last time.” 

He says. “Just tell me if it's not hot enough for you, I'll fix it.” And you're positive it's borderline flirty. You gotta occupy yourself with turning on the bathroom light, or else he's gonna see fuuuck written all over your face. 

You gotta say something back or it's gonna be one sided, and awkward so you push out. “I'll call you if I need you, Franky.” Low and slow.

Did you just? 

Franks mouth pulls up into a grin and he's gotta wipe his hand over his cheek, as if he's just feeling the stubble. Look what you did, you're making him nervous. 

Before either of you have a chance to react, the door’s closed and you're pressing your back against it. If you didn't know any better you'd think the man was making a move, but you've got a migraine from hell so you're gonna chalk it up to friendly banter. 

You're gonna opt for a cold shower though, just in case. 

•

The shower does wonders for you. Your regenerative powers help too, giving your body the chance to heal a bit under the water. You walk out dressed and unstressed with your clothes balled up in your arms, just about to call out Franks name when you hear him say. “Back here.” 

You turn and walk into the small bedroom space, just big enough for the two of you. He's laying on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes, looking like absolute sin. Okay, yeah, you're cut off from reading tacky romance novels. 

“You can just put your stuff on the table, we'll get em’ washed tomorrow.” He sounds tired. 

You walk to the kitchenette table and drop your clothes on top of it, before walking back to the room and saying. “Or we could just get my clothes from my apartment, that's a pretty good idea.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We could, and, you know what, why don't we go to the police station while we're at it and tell them about the bad man named Fisk?” 

“What?” 

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were stating dumb ideas.” He says nonchalantly, before adding. “You and I both know that it's not safe for you to go to your place, or else you wouldn't be here, right?” 

He lifts his arm off of his face and looks at you. Yeah, right. You nod and he nods back, covering his face up again. “Right.”

Truth be told, you'd probably still be here even if it was safe. Truthfully. 

You crawl onto the bed next to him and the springs groan out something light and metallic. Lay down, face up, be quiet. 

“Y/n.” That's not quiet.

“Hm?” 

“You're not doin’ this alone,” Okay. You turn your head to look at him but he's still got his arm over his eyes. “Not while there's air in my lungs.”

You say, “It's not your fight.” And Frank finally looks at you. His brows tip and he props himself up on one arm so he's leaning over you a bit. 

“Hell it's not, you think Ima’ just let that bastard have at you? Nuh-uh,” He shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but that's not how this works.”

“Then how does this work?” You're not mad, just curious. If this is going where you think it's going, God willing, Frank’s gonna be the one starting it. 

He's the one with the brick walls here, so you're gonna let him be the first to break them down. 

His eyes drop to your lips and roll over the curve of your jaw. It's sharp and soft at the same time, just like the rest of you. You shift, catch his eyes, and his sight slips off to the wall. 

“I, uh.” he rolls onto his back and clasp his hands on his stomach. You're making him nervous and he's the one doing all the work. Jeesus, one of you do something. This is embarrassing. 

“I don't wanna die.” What? You-pfsshhh. Yeah, okay, start there. 

Frank has to blink that in, but he's still too chicken shit right now to look at you. So he asks. “Why not?” 

For the love of God. 

“Why not?” You repeat, frowning at the ceiling. Frank squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, backtrack. 

“No, not-” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and gives himself a second to get it. He doesn't, so he just nods and says. “Yeah, okay why not? Why don't you?” 

You sit up and turn to look at him. He's circulating between frowning at you, and the ceiling, and the door, so when his eyes hit you on their third rotation you say. “I don't wanna die, because I'm not ready yet.” Simple. 

“Says the girl who went all Annie Oakley on a mob boss tonight.” 

“It was his henchmen-”

“-henchmen?”

“-and that's not the point.” You ignore him. “The point is I'm scared. I thought I could do it tonight, but I didn't and now look at me.” 

He does. In the weak light from his bedside lamp he can see all of you. The bruise forming (and healing) under your eye, and on the bridge of your nose. The scratch along your neck that dips just below the collar of your-his shirt. It's a lot. You're a lot. 

He shifts and pushes himself up a bit before opening his arms. “Come here.” 

Then your head is pressed against his chest, with your hand resting on his abdomen. Fingers curled in. You can hear his heart beating, thu-thump. Thu-thump. 

His arm wraps around you and you can feel his fingers brush against the middle of your back, right at the dip. A train's horn blares in the distance and suddenly you feel really mortal. 

This is it, Kid. 

You've finally hit fuck it, because now you're lifting up and kissing Frank Castle. You half expect him to push you off, but nope, his hand pushes straight to your hips, your shirt hitching up around his forearm. 

There's no awkward is this okay kisses, nope, you're both just diving for it. You push your hand up to his shoulder and-oh okay, yeah you do that- slide your leg over him, so you're halfway straddling him at least. 

You push both of your hands to his neck, thumbs pressed against his jaw, and lean in. It's an awkward approach, something he wasn't exactly ready for this time because your teeth collide, and you're about to pull back and apologize when he reaches down and grips your ass. 

Oh-Kay. He tugs you back up toward him and this time you're both ready. Especially you, because your tongue dips into Frank's mouth and he's just here for it. 

After a while of just that, you lift up and press your hands against his chest. His other hand scoots up to your hip, and he starts rubbing up and down your thighs. 

“Y/n-” 

“Hold on.” You scoot so you're really on top of him and sit back a bit, feeling him rub against your clit. He lets out a sharp exhale of a groan and you lift up, before sitting back again and grinding against him. Frank tugs off his shirt and you follow suit, pulling yours up and over your head before tossing it off to the side, and Frank is on you. 

You’re not wearing a bra, so he just dips his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth. He reaches up to gather your other breast in his hand, and you bring your hands up to his shoulders just to hold onto something. You bury your face in his hair, shift, and kiss along his head. 

Frank starts peppering sloppy kisses across your chest before biting down on your other nipple. 

“Shit,” you whisper. “Frank.” 

“Mhm,” He’s got a vice grip on your hips, and then he’s bucking up into you. Slow and steady, and meticulous, and—Jeesus. His tongue swirls and bites, and you’re tilting your head back. Eye’s closed just feeling him. 

Okay, you gotta-hold on. You push against Franks shoulders and his mouth comes off of you with an almost obscene pop. He starts to ask what’s wrong when you dip your head down and catch his mouth against yours. It’s slow and nasty and good, something almost too sensual to be Frank, but it is. It’s just you and him. 

He mumbles. “Com’on.” Against your lips and rolls you over so he’s pressed on top of you. You’re rubbing your hands up his arms and over his shoulders when he —oh Christ, okay—reaches up to grab each of your wrist pinning them over your head. This is more of what you expected, you’re not gonna stop him though. 

He peppers kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, before sucking. 

“Fra-ank.” God you’re whiney right now, and Franks sucking hickies into your neck, so who the hell cares? 

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Frank is an A-1 goddamn tease. Before you can get an answer out he pushes against you. Languid downward rolls of his hips, catching against you and pushing your body up juuust a bit with each thrust. “Hm?” 

Your mouths open in an ‘O’ shape, and you’re positive you're not gonna be able to make clear sentences, so you lock your ankles behind him and drag him closer to you. He groans out a breathy ah, shit and pulls his head back up to kiss you again. When he lets your arms go he’s quick to get back on you, sucking and biting his way down your body, and you’re still too dazed to really get what’s happening until he says. 

“Y/n.” 

He’s sitting up, leaning back a bit onto his legs, with his hands resting on your hips. You prop yourself up on your forearms. “Yes?” 

His mouth tips up into a half smile and he says. “I said you gotta lift up,” His fingers tap the waistband of your sweatpants. Oh, yeah, okay. You lift up your hips and he starts tugging your pants down, fingers hooked in your panties too. You lift up your legs and then he’s got everything up and off of you. 

He settles back down, onto his stomach, with his head between your legs and looks up at you. You’re still propped up onto his shoulders, and you’ve got a pretty damn good view of him. He dips his head down and starts kissing along your thighs, and again it's strangely intimate for him. Out of your peripheral you catch a car's headlights move past the window, and you think to say something when you feel Frank slide his hands to the back of your knees and fold your legs back on either side of you towards the bed. 

You feel him blow cool air against you and you gotta take deep breaths. Scoot, shift, and his face is right between the junction of your thighs. Your hand is in his hair when he drags his tongue up your pussy and over your clit. Your head hits the pillow and you push your other hand into the other one next to you. Gripping. 

“Frank,” You breathe for no reason other than it’s just him. “Oh, God, Frank.” 

He moans into you and that’s enough to get your back arching a bit. He starts in earnest, jumping between circling your clit, and looong strokes up your vulva. You start to wonder if he’s spelling his name down there, when he pushes his tongue aaaalll the way in until his face is practically buried inside of you. His tongue is pressed flat against your labia and then he’s licking inside you. There’s a pause while you gasp out a ‘Fra-a-ank’, before he starts tongue fucking you.  You’re not sure what your sound limit is here so you’re doing your best to keep it to a minimum. Rotating between a string of Oh god, Yes, fuck, and Fraa-aank-just to be safe. 

And then he plants his mouth over your clit and sucks, pushing a finger inside of you. Your back is almost full rainbow, pushing your head into the pillow, and your moaning out a loud. “Ooooh, fuck, Frank!” 

He hums, and, without missing a beat, his tongue starts circling your clit, and he adds a second finger. Languid and intinse. Faster, tighter, you’re really pushing the sound limit here. He’s still working you to the edge, but has enough time to say. “Come on, Y/n. Come in my mouth, baby.”

You groan. “Oh shit,” But he pulls his fingers back a bit, curve, and he’s finger fucking you against your G-spot. He’s an angel. 

You’re loud. Like-you’re voice is probably gonna be strained in the morning- loud. Frank pumps into you, tongue circling tightly, and gets just a little rougher with it. “Ah, fuck, Frank. Please-God-please…” He latches his lips around your clit and sucks, and it's gotta be biblical the amount of times you’ve said God’s name tonight. He presses against your legs and tucks his fingers, moans against you. Your jaw drops and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing your other hand down to the back of Frank's head and pulling his face into you. 

A strain of ecstasy pushes its way through you and you just can’t get out fast enough. “Frank-frank, oh GOD AAaaahhh!!” Your chest has a slow rise and fall to it, and Frank is back to being sensual. Kissing around your still sensitive clit and up your thighs. He lets go of your leg and pushes both of his hands onto your hips, you can feel your wetness on his fingers. 

He pulls himself on top of you and this kiss is rougher, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He props himself up onto his forearm and reaches down to push off his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side with the rest of his clothes. 

“You ready?” His voice is wrecked, something you’re really not used to hearing from Frank. You think, and push up on his shoulders before wrapping your leg around his hip and rolling so you’re on top. Franks got this dazed smile on his face, and lord he is cute. Really, Frank Castle is cute. 

He grabs onto your waist and lifts you up with almost ridiculous ease, before shifting his eyes down and watching as you wrap your hand around his dick and slowly guide yourself down onto him. 

You press your hands against his chest and raise up, just to grind back down, and Franks gotta focus on his breathing or else he’s gonna cum way too fast. 

You go like that for a while, a slow and steady rock, but Frank’s been sporting a hard on since you laid next to him so he’s not as patient as he could be. He adjusts his grip on your waist, hikes his legs up so he’s digging his heels into the mattress, “You ready, baby?” and starts to buck up into you. And you thought you were leading the show. 

You’re panting out little ah’s with each thrust, and you gotta brace your hand on the headboard for some kinda leverage. Frank pulls you down onto his chest and kisses you full, mumbling a string of “You like that? Huh? Ah, fuck.” against you, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You grind down and meet each of his thrust and he’s done for. He pushes his face into your neck as he starts pistoning into you, lips mouthing at your neck. His thrust start getting sloppy, uncoordinated, and he moans out. “Com’on, Y/n.” Before reaching down and circling your clit. 

And it's building and building and you rasp out. “Frank, I—”

He bites down on your shoulder and Oh, okay, yes that. You dig your nails into his shoulder and he’s forcing every ounce of himself not to scream. “Y/n!” Low and breathy. He still does. His hips stutter as he cums, and you pick up your pace, fucking him through it. His hips eventually stutter and he bucks a couple of times before sighing into your neck, spent. 

You both just stay like that for a while. Breathing in each other, enjoying the come down. You can’t help but let your mind drift to thoughts of Frank outside of this. Domesticated, and lovely. He just came inside of you, so the idea of having his kids passes through briefly. You’ll deal with that tomorrow. He coaxes you off of him and onto the bed, sliding the sheets onto the both of you. Sliding his arm under your back he pulls you into his side and closes his eyes. You rest your head against his chest, hyper aware of how intimate this is. Neither of you are sure whether or not you should dwell on that or not. 

He, Christ, reaches down and plants a kiss on your forehead before laying back and saying. “You’re not getting your card punched, not while I’m still here.” 

Does he know what he’s doing to you? You just nod, because you’re not really sure if you believe him or not, and he sees that. 

“Hey,” He says, nudging you a bit. You sit up and look at him, and he’s got this look in his eyes. Something like worry, and hope, and so much love for you it almost breaks your heart. “I’m serious, I’m not letting him or any a’ them get to you.” 

You’re the closest thing this man has got to a friend, hell even a family, so yeah. You believe him. You nod and lean up to kiss him, before laying your head back onto his chest. 

Thirty hours.

+

A/N: I'm actually obsessed with this man. Y'all please leave comments letting me know if you liked this / what you think. I wanna hear back from you! Have a great day, beautiful.

[kayrrhin]

Lipstick stains and nicotine

characters: Crocodile, Corazon, Smoker, Benn Beckman

One piece daddies x gn reader

Warnings: use of nicotine by both the characters and reader, swear word (use of fuck once)

(not proofread because my friend was making diner lmao)

Crocodile:

"Are you done yet?"

The warlord asked while being covered in kisses and mostly lipstick

"Hmm, no!"

You kissed him again, you couldn't really tell if he was annoyed or flustered by the attention

"Darling, may I ask what you are up too with all this display of attention?"

He asked, kissing your forehead

"Just felt like it actually, plus lipstick stains look good on you"

You smiled proudly at the pattern covering his face, he did look good with those.

He chuckled at the way you looked at his face,"I see"

He pulled out a cigar and pulled it to his lips, lighting it quickly and taking a long drag

"I could be getting used to this, as long as it stays between closed doors, of course. I still have an image to hold, darling"

He looked at you and smiled, blowing the smoke directly in your face

"Yeah, I do know that, dear"

You stole the cigar for a moment, taking a drag as well and smiling at him, you kissed him again and place the cigar between his lips again

"I wouldn't want anyone else to see this sight anyway"

Corazon :

"L-love, please"

Your lover exclaimed with a flush covering his whole cheeks as you were peppering his face with kisses

"Please what, darling?"

It had been quite a few minutes since you started kissing his whole face, he was now covered in lipstick marks and you probably guessed he wanted a little break to breath

"Let me breath a little, don't get the wrong idea, I like your affection but please, just a little break, honey"

You giggled and pulled back a little, still sitting on his lap, you were admiring your job and lighting your cigarette, taking a long drag, Rosi took your cigarette and placed it between in his lips

"I don't know why but I have a feeling it's from my pack"

He took a drag

"Ooh nice feeling you got, it is in fact right"

Your lover chuckled and placed a kiss on your nose

"Look who has lipstick on them now"

"I still have less than you, big boy"

You both laughed, but a weird smell tickled your nostrils

"Rosi! The blanket!"

"FUCK—"

Smoker:

"Love, can you please stop—"

Your lover complained while being kissed

"Come on, just a little bit more, I like seeing you flustered, Darling"

You said, kissing him again, you could see his face becoming redder as time passed. Who could imagine Smoker, a vice-admiral, being so easily messed up by mere kisses?

Even for the man was tough, he was also quite shy concerning anything remotely related to affection, is being kissed like that has been quite difficult for the heart of the White Hunter.

"[Name], please, if you do give me a break I'll.... cuddle...later", he said suite embarrassed by his own words

"Oh that's a nice deal, okay!"

You let the man go, still looking at the work of art you just did and smirked at his lipstick covered face

"What are you smiling at?"

He said, lighting his cigars

"Just looking at my work, [lipstick colour] really does suit you!"

He looked quite surprised and looked away while taking a drag,

"You're just making fun of me aren't you"

You gently kissed his cheek while stealing one of his cigars

"No, I'm just being honest, can't I just appreciate my man's beauty?"

You stole a drag and blew the smoke in his face resulting in him looking unimpressed at you

"You have your own cigars, don't steal mine, love"

He said getting his cigar back

"How grumpy can you be, darling"

You chuckled while your lover just looked at you a little embarrassed

Benn Beckman:

"Darling, are you enjoying yourself?"

Benn asked before chuckling at you unstoppable kisses

"Of course! It's quite enjoyable to cover your lover with lipstick marks! "

You said smiling, pulling back only to look at Benn's face, quite proud of the marks left on him

"I like your knew look, dear"

You giggled, he grabbed you by your waist and kissed you

"If you say so it might be true then, I just hope Shanks doesn't see me like this or he'll never live it down"

You both laughed a bit, knowing damn well he'd probably even found a way to share it with the whole world, Benn took out a cigarette and place it between your lips

"I'd guess you'd want to have a few drags"

He searched for his lighter in his pocket

"You guessed right, love"

He lit it up and you took a long drag

"I still don't like your tobacco tho"

You cringed a little only for your lover to chuckle

"Your fault for not getting your own ones"

He took the cigarette back and kissed your forehead before placing it between his lips

[rayassecretlife]

Do you still love me?

Pairing: Aged up!Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omaticaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam’s family has stayed the same for many years, only one daughter who was now 4. But you fear that Neteyam doesn’t want more, scared he had fallen out of love with you after the birth.

Warning(s): Mature language, mentions of miscarriage, dad!Neteyam being a warning himself, just a lot of fluff and angst etc. not proof read

“Mama!” Your ears twitched at the voice, your daughters crying voice echoing through high camp. You had been working on one of the hunters but quickly excused yourself at her call, pushing past the groups of people to get to her voice. “Where is mama!”

“Aratakai!” The people moved away from you once they noticed, all bowing their heads as you passed and apologizing for stepping in the way. You finally got to the center of the circle, a sigh of relief leaving your chest as you made eye contact with her. “What’s wrong?” She runs to you, clinging to your leg like she had been scared somebody would take her away. You looked up at the other person, forehead creasing at him.

“Look, Y/N-“

“Bad men! Bad men!” Your four year old cries against your leg and your eyes quickly glare at him, watching his ears fall. “Try to get uncle Lo’ak”

“Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to bring her in the middle I-“

“You brought her on your scouting trip?!” Your voice is enough to alert the whole village and everyone around you is staring at Lo’ak, watching in fear of when Neteyam would approach. He was nowhere to be seen, which was a surprise being that he could feel your emotions and most definitely could feel your rage. “I won’t even let Neteyam bring her outside the barriers! Her own father!”

“She was already out there!” He interrupts, kneeling down to your daughter who had been clinging to your leg. “Arat, tell her what you were-“

“Enough!” You hiss, reaching down to pull her into your arms. Your heart was beating terribly fast, and her cries only made it worse. “I thought you grew out of your immature faze, Lo’ak. I guess I was wrong-“

“T-try get the fruit, mama” You looked down at your daughters face, tears staining her small cheeks. “Uncle Lo’ak take me home” Your ears flatten at her words, taking a second to look back at your brother in law. He understood your frustration, he wasn’t mad at you for snapping.

“Lo’ak-“

“Make way!” One of the hunters called, the very large Ikran coming to the group. Lo’ak gave you a reassuring look and you nodded, hand pulling your daughters head to lay against you, making sure she felt safe.

“Ma’Tìyawn, what happened?” Neteyam’s voice makes her lift her head, now allowing him to see her tears. You could feel his fear and anger raise almost instantly, looking around to find the route of the problem. “Arat-“

“She got into the forest, Neteyam” You tell him, now feeling your own tears ghost your eyes. You were so worried, so angry that someone had brought her down there. She was only 4, there was no way she could’ve made it herself—not without an Ikran. “Somebody brought her down there”

Your husband looks around at your clan, jaw clenched tightly with his eyes strained on each and every one of their faces. When Arat was born, he set strict rules to never bring any harm to her. The people were sworn to protect her at all costs, so who the hell put her in danger?

Whoever it was, he was going to find out—and he was going to kill them. There was no debate about that.

“Lo’ak found her… brought her home” His eyes turn to his younger brother, watching his eyes soften at the sight of him. When Lo’ak found her, he didn’t know how she had even gotten there—so confused he searched the area for the person.

But he got caught between sky people, and Arat almost got hurt. He had never been more disappointed in himself—never been so terrified something could happen.

You and Neteyam kept her secluded from anything that involved danger. It was your biggest fear that something could happen to her because even though you’d feel like this with any child of yours, she was your only one.

You needed to protect her.

He thanked his brother before turning back to you, noticing how badly you’d been holding your tears back. “If you saw anything of my daughter leaving high camp, I suggest you tell me” He raises his voice to the clan, anger even worse now that his family was upset. “I will find whoever did this. And if not me, you better pray she doesn’t find you” The clan chants to him and his word, knowing their fear of you and neteyam was much greater then their fear of the sky people.

“As I’ve said before, my daughters safety is all of your priorities in battle! Let one finger touch her, I won’t hesitate to retaliate against you, do I make myself clear!” You close your eyes as you stroke your daughters hair, letting a few tears fall from your eyes with a sigh. You just wanted to go home now. “You are dismissed”

Lo’ak places a hand on your shoulder and presses a small kiss to his nieces head before leaving, Neteyam finally turning to tend to you and your daughter.

“Y/N-“

“I want to go home” You ignore him, turning to walk back to your cave with Arat still in your arms. He followed of course, but very confused as to why you were acting so angry at him. Why were you so upset? He understood, but there is nothing more he can do.

“Fruit?” Your daughters voice is soft against your ear and you sigh, nodding your head with a sniffle as you set her down onto her feet. Neteyam leaned against the doorway, watching your every move as you put out some of the fresh fruit you had from before. “Thanks, mama” her little lisp surfaces and Neteyam couldn’t help but chuckle, watching you wipe off her tear stained cheeks.

“Excuse me” You cleared your throat before making your way into you and Neteyam’s shared room, not even making it to the bed until his voice chimed in.

“Can you talk to me?” You continued to ignore your mate, walking over to the basket that sat on the floor to pull your small cover up from it. You already knew this argument that was bound to happen. Always doing this around in circles bullshit. “Y/N”

“Leave me alone, Neteyam. Please” yeah, now he knew you were mad. Usually you’d be all over him by now, knowing that he had to work a lot and most of the time wasn’t home to spend time with you unless it was at night before going to bed. What he didn’t know, are the thoughts you’ve been having the past couple of days.

Before you gave birth to your daughter, Neteyam would talk about wanting a huge family. He wanted boys, girls, even a pet. You wanted all those things with him, but as soon as you gave birth—it was like everything you had planned changed.

Neteyam never showed interest in mating any more, barely even seeing you during the day due to his duties. You’d cry when he wasn’t around, wishing you still had that teenage fever love. Was it the birth? Did he not love you anymore? It was so unusual for a Na’vi to lose interest in their mate, but your relationship just felt so one sided.

And then there was the miscarriage.

The loss of your second baby took a huge toll on your relationship for the worst. Neteyam and you would be constantly fighting, and you didn’t work for the longest time just trying to get out of the cave. You felt useless, the people hadn’t seen their Tsahìk for many two weeks.

That is the reason you were so protective over your daughter. She was the only child you had and probably would ever get to have. It stung, you loved the idea of a big family. You never even bothered to confront him.

“Y/N, I can feel your upset with me. What is wrong?” He grabs your hand, turning you to face him. His face was full of worry, taking in the sight of your tears in front of him. Eywa, how he hated it when you cried. His hands reach to cup your face but you push them away.

“Don’t act like you care now” His forehead creases at your words and he’s already shaking his head, more then confused as to what you had been talking about.

“What? Your crying, My love. Of course I’m gonna care-“

“Really? Because you didn’t the last few weeks” Now he was full on mugging you, knowing for a fact that if you had been crying he would’ve known. He would have felt your sadness… he should have felt everything. “Our daughter could’ve gotten hurt today, Neteyam. Where were you?”

“She’s here, isn’t she? I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but you know I have duties and you cannot worry so much. I will find out who took her-“

“Not worry so much? I don’t have a choice, Neteyam! She’s our only daughter! Our only child! If I lose her… Oh Eywa, if we lost her…” You shook your head, wiping your tears as they quickly began to fall. “She’s all I’ve ever wanted, Nete. I can’t lose her”

“That’s what this is about? Why were you crying before-“

“Because you don’t love me anymore!” You snap, your husbands jaw dropping at your accusation. Didn’t love you? Was that a joke? “Y-you promised me a family, and I give birth and you just lose all interest in me!”

“Y/N-“

“I’ve gone through so many heat cycles, Neteyam. If you don’t want more just tell me!” He was took aback by your sudden outburst, hand pulling your waist so you could be closer to him. “And then the miscarriage… Am I just not good enough anymore?”

Eywa, you were so clueless. “Not good enough? Was that a joke?” He reaches up to cup your face in his hands, finally being able to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Y/N, my mate, my wife, my beautiful fucking Tsahìk—you really believe I don’t love you anymore?”

“Everyday I wake up to you sleeping next to me, praying to Eywa that she keeps you safe while I’m gone. Telling you how beautiful you are everytime I see you, bringing home gifts for you and Arat, talking peoples ears off about you. I can’t even remember what my life was like when I wasn’t in love with you”

“And mating? I’ve always wanted to, but it’s been so long I didn’t think you wanted to anymore… and Arat’s birth hurt you so much I didn’t want to hurt you again” He thumbs away your tears, lifting your head so you could stare directly at him. “The miscarriage was not your fault, Baby. I promise you, everything you’ve been feeling, is the exact opposite of what I feel”

“Because I love you, and I want to build a family with you. I still want it all with you, Y/N. You hear me? Don’t cry, don’t cry because of this” His confession only made your tears worsen, arms wrapping around him tightly so you could cry. You were so naive, so stupid to believe he didn’t love you. Neteyam was a busy man, you should have known.

“I don’t want to lose you, Teyam” he shushes you, hand caressing the small of your back and your hair. Lose him? As if you could get rid of him that easily. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, I wish you would’ve told me before so I could’ve fixed it” He sighs against you, pulling away after awhile and almost instantly taking your head back into his hands. “I love you so fucking much, Y/N. Do you hear me? Never say something like that ever again”

You sniffle, nodding your head with a small smile, leaning into your mate to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you so much more” He only pulls you back in, hands gently resting on your throat just to hold you there. He wanted you to know he was there, not going anywhere anytime soon.

“So, about baby number two?”

This is probably bad, I threw this together randomly butttttt finished in an hour so new record 🤭. Enjoy this little fluff while I prepare my smut writings!!

[the-modern-typewriter]

if you like, would you do a snippet about the daughter of a vampire hunter who frees a captive vampire from her father?

The vampire looked only a little older than her. Seventeen, maybe. Eighteen. Myna knew that didn't count for much - you couldn't tell a vampire's age just by looking at them, but still.

She was beautiful too, of course, in the way that all vampires in some way were. Her bloody eyes were striking, ethereal things that tracked Myna's every movement into the room. They paused on the keys clutched tightly in Myna's hand and then flicked to her face. The vampire's head tilted.

Myna stopped in front of her, just out of reach.

"Will you attack me if I release you?" Myna asked.

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

It was a good question. Myna wet her lips, nervously, and the vampire's gaze darted to those next.

"No," the vampire said. "I have no desire to linger here, not even to hurt him."

But the vampire did want to hurt her father. That much was obvious, but also understandable. Maybe Myna was making a mistake. Maybe she was under a thrall that was simply masquerading itself as morality, because though desire was more insidious it was easier to resist. Maybe she would only know when the vampire was gone, and she could think clearly, or maybe she would always wonder.

Myna hesitated, shifting her grip on the keys.

"He hurts you."

"He does not like my kind."

"Your kind are monsters."

"And your father's behaviour is monstrous." The vampire shrugged, light and almost careless. Almost. She raised a delicate eyebrow. "But you know that or you wouldn't be thinking about doing what you're doing."

Myna gulped.

She'd been raised to believe that vampires were pure predator, unnatural and evil, but the more she had actually seen of them the less she could possibly believe that true. The less she saw of...her the less Myna could believe it.

Her father said that was how vampires operated. They mimicked passion, love, the human things to ensure their own safety.

Myna usually felt like she was faking it too, though.

Most of the other girls at school thought hunting was archaic, barbaric. It also felt an entirely different thing to kill a vampire and to keep one one captive for weeks on end in a converted wine cellar.

Most girls always seemed to know what to say, while Myna felt like her script had got lost somewhere and so she kept reading her cues all wrong.

If faking was the standard for being inhuman, for being evil, then what did that make her?

"How old are you?" It was a silly question, in the grand scheme of absolutely everything.

The vampire blinked. "Twenty three."

It felt ancient. It felt a world away. Twenty three meant life away from her father's house and no more school and the freedom to do whatever she wanted. She knew, though, that it wasn't very long at all. She knew what a human lifespan was supposed to be. She knew how old vampires could get.

"How old are you?" The vampire's tone was strangely soft.

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen," the vampire echoed. A wistful sort of smile curled her lips. "Sweet sixteen girl."

"I'm not sweet."

"No." The vampire said it almost musingly. "You're something much more enticing. More interesting."

Enticing. Interesting.

Myna cleared her throat. She felt heat rise, ridiculous and unbidden to her cheeks, and stepped closer. She was glad she didn't fumble the locks, but her heartbeat still picked up the second the metal hit the floor.

She scurried back swiftly, even as she was aware her swiftness was a snail compared to what the vampire was.

The vampire stood, slowly, even to Myna's human eyes, like she was trying not to scare her.

"Thank you." The vampire seemed a little unsure. She wet her lips in turn, and Myna's gaze darted treacherously to them. "It gets better," she said. "I promise."

Myna looked down, because the words weren't what she'd expected and she didn't know what exactly she'd wanted. "You should go."

When she glanced up again, the vampire stood right in front of her, barely a breath away. Myna's breath caught.

"You could come with me," the vampire said. "Your father will be angry with you for freeing me."

Myna's stomach churned, but she squared her shoulders. "He won't hurt me."

"Tell him I thralled you," the vampire said. She reached her hand up, pressing the pad of her thumb over Myna's bottom lip. "He'll believe it."

"Uhuh."

The vampire smiled; wicked and feral and everything that Myna thought she might be too, if she was only brave enough. The vampire pressed the sweetest of kisses to Myna's lips.

"All a vampire is," the vampire whispered, "is everything human with the volume turned up. Your father doesn't like what is reflected back when he thinks of us. Humans can be awful."

"And me?" Myna managed.

"You," the vampire said, "will be feral when you finally get around to unlocking your own cage. I look forward to it, sweet sixteen."

Then, she was gone.

And Myna could taste power on her tongue.