#as always I absolutely adore these expressions and the body language here!! so emotive!

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

I just want to have a little rant/discussion about the fucking animation on this show, and how much I adore it- particuarly the fucking EXPRESSIONS. This moment in particular is one of my absolute favorites; when Blitz finally snaps and starts, as he would say, spilling his guts.

This fucking expression says so fucking much.

This is the expression of someone who has spent so so SO long, SO much of his life desperately trying to get people to listen to him, believe in him, stop fucking judging him.

This isn't just 'BUT I DID CARE ABOUT YOU!' It's also 'no one listens to me, please fucking listen to me, please fucking beleive me, please, please, please, but you won't, because no one does, and I can't take it any more!"

This expression is pain and desperation and sorrow. It's someone who has been pushed and pushed and finally, finally cracked- but it's also horror. Horror that Fizz would think he didn't care about him.

Horror that Fizz would think he'd hurt him on purpose. I know I'm a shit person, I know I'm a shit friend, but you really think I'd leave you? You really think I'd hurt you? You were my brother, you were my best friend, you were my first love, how did I fuck this up so hard? How did I ruin this so bad? Why am I so fucking rotten?

Combine it with the body language. It's exhausted. It's slumped and defeated and tired. Blitz has shit posture overall, all the time, but here it's like someone put a weight on his spine.

There is something border-lining hysteria in his tone and this powerful storm of emotion in his eyes, but his body language is so, so tired. He's had this weight on him for so many years, and even now, even sharing it, it doesn't get rid of it, because he already knows it won't matter.

It's never mattered. He's shit. He's bad. He's a stupid, lazy, selfish piece of shit and it doesn't matter what he says or does- he's not worth it. He's going to die alone.

Then this one. All that emotion, all that flurry of words and outpouring of truth and now he's empty. He's done. He's said everything he can say and now he waits.

And this expression- God, this expression. People talk about the 'I can always do better!' Moment, as well they should, but this. He's scared. He's just a tiny but hopeful but kicking himself for it. Again, he's so tired. Anger and self-hate are exhausting, guys. It's Say something. Say you hear me at least. Say you believe me? You don't have to believe me but at least say you hear me.

It's I can't believe that just came out of me, I couldn't stop it, that wasn't supposed to happen-

It's waiting, helpless and hopless, to be told to fuck off, but praying that maybe, maybe, the person he never stopped caring about might have something left in his heart for him, might at least give him just a little grace, even if he doesn't deserve it.

Might still hate him but at least be a kind enough, a good enough person, to not think he'd have done something so fucking awful on purpose.

It's his fault. He should be hated. He doesn't deserve love or forgiveness.

But at least, please, don't think I'd do it on purpose. Please.

[pinkzier]

amber freeman alphabet

A/n: There's a bit of smut, Amber is a bit perverted here but I know you like it! just weird writing and maybe some fluff..

☆ミAdmiration( what does she absolutely adore about you) She sure loves how much you defend her even though in most cases she's wrong, but you don't know

☆ミBody( What is her favorite part of your body?) Everyone knows that Amber is a big fan of PDA, whether showing you off to her friends or something similar, she doesn't have a specific part of your body that she likes the most, but she's obsessed with your neck, always giving soft kisses, sometimes sloppy but only when she is very excited and likes to tease you

☆ミ cuddling (how she likes to cuddle) This girl knows she has a strange habit but it has become so frequent that she always hugs you with one hand on your butt and the other on your wrist, practically always but the exception is that she puts both hands on your waist while you pass the arms around her neck, she just wants the best positions to be able to feel her whole body

☆ミdates( Whats her ideal date?) you know it's not amber if she doesn't try to make dates at the parties she throws at her house, she's chaotic and for her, the two of you at a party at her house is the perfect date (no one will be watching, they're too busy kissing, and trying to have sex with each other) and she knows that what she wants will always happen, but if you force her to have meetings in calmer places she will also accept it!

☆ミemotions (how does she express her emotions around you) It's easier than it seems to find out when something is wrong with Amber, whether it's when in the middle of the group everything you're saying she scoffs at how you're talking about party plans and she blurts out "you better buy a zipper for your pants, someone will try to get into her" and scoffs softly, rolling her eyes, and it's not in a way that you laugh, it's in a way that you know she's mad at you!!

☆ミFamilly (does she want one) I don't know, Amber loves you but... you and she are young, she doesn't think about having a family, she loves you and thinks about enjoying it with you, without children

☆ミholding hands (does she like to hold hands) She likes to hold hands, but she's more used to pulling you by the wrist in places...either when you're very drunk, or when you're getting lost and when following an unknown man to her parties while she is talking to tara

☆ミinjuries (what would she do if you got hurt) She will unconsciously argue with you for hurting yourself while you can see the tension in her shoulders as she looks for medicine, whether it was her fault or whether she hurt you unintentionally, she will simply stop making fun of you or making fun jokes. , especially if she is a ghostface with you and you got hurt helping her, she will blame herself a lot

☆ミjokes (does she like to joke around) If you date Amber you know how she is, this girl plays so much that sometimes you want to put something in her mouth to make her shut up, in any situation, whether she is angry, sad, jealous or happy, she always manages to add a joke, her humor is like that

☆ミkisses (how does she like to kiss you) Speaking of the time of day, normally she loves to kiss your cheek and the back of your neck, and sometimes when she is affectionate she kisses your whole face, now at night things are different, she loves kissing your neck, sucking and rubbing bites on your shoulder and in very visible places, and also on your thighs, always teasing you, trailing kisses from your thigh to your dripping core and gives a kiss to your swollen and red clit and gives her that arrogant smile of hers and says "you Does it need to be touched here dear?"

☆ミlove (what’s her love language) Accepting your nonsense without even questioning it, it's like when you want to try to kill someone (r!ghostface) they don't even know who they are or what they did but that's okay, when you tried to break into someone's house to get something and they didn't even I knew who it was but helped you so that if the police arrived, they knew you would be slow and would get caught!

☆ミMemory (what’s her favourite memory together) God..this is going to be weird but obviously it was when you agreed to go along with her stupid plan, god she thought you were going to break up with her, she wouldn't have told you if you hadn't seen her clothes and mask under the bed while looking for your makeup brush that fell, and also going in that direction one of her memories was when you killed your first person and god...she thought you were so hot

☆ミNighttime (how does sleeping with her look like) You can't have a peaceful night with her, she just grabs you, she's the biggest spoon and loves to grab you while putting her face on your neck, so she DOESN'T accept sleeping facing away from her, she needs to wake up to your smell that she is addicted

☆ミOddity (what’s a quirky thing about her) make fun of people along with you, whether it's when someone is wearing ugly clothes or stinking, they get in your ear and say "God, I think I should skip school so I don't have to see/feel this.." and when you're an idiot and I laugh at that and she gives the most arrogant smile you've ever seen! It makes me have thoughts of mean!amber..

☆ミPet names (what does she like to call you) It depends on her mood and yours, if it's a normal day she just calls you "honey" but if you're mad at her, she calls you "baby" she knows how to convince you

☆ミQuality time (how does she like to spend time with you) it depends... at your house she marathons slasher films, she drives to your house with snacks, hamburgers and chocolates and covers you both with the blanket while you watch films that for you are scarier than anything else but she holds your hand and says that If you feel scared, you can hug her and close your eyes <33

☆ミRush (does she rush into things) That depends, after you started dating she started hugging you and giving hints that she wanted to have sex with you, she didn't force you and waited a long time until you wanted to.

☆ミSecrets (how open is she with you) before you found out that she was ghostface she was a little hesitant to tell you literally EVERYTHING, she didn't hide anything except that, and after you found out and she explained everything and you believed her she told you everything, even her plans and everything she planned to do

☆ミTime (how long it took her to confess) It's time to think that you like her, she is also observant and even though she has a high ego she would still ask Tara for advice on this, if Tara said you liked her and only Amber didn't saw this, she got up and told you (Tara and Mindy forced her)

☆ミUpset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset) She knows she's irritating, and it's very easy for you to get irritated or jealous, she knows that there's nothing that a kiss and sweet words can't solve, she knows how to manipulate you very well and has you in the palm of her hand (not that words are lie

☆ミVisibility (is she afraid of the public opinion) public opinion? God, she doesn't even know what that is, she lives with her hands on your ass, and always with her face in your neck, she says naughty things in front of you and makes you blush in front of the whole group and everyone is like "??" because they don't know what she said in your ear, but from her mischievous smile it wasn't something innocent

☆ミWarrior (how often do you fight) As incredible as it seems and because of how psychopathic and strange Amber is and loves to kill people, you don't fight as much as it seems? because I don't know, I just know that she's a bit of a softie and when you fight she knows that you won't chase her, how would she sleep without you?

☆ミX-ray (is she able to read you) more than you would like, so far it has only been happy things but we can never forget that even though she is a perverted prankster she always knows when something is wrong, or when you are uncomfortable, she would not hesitate to kill the person who made you sad

☆ミZen (what makes her feel calm) Watching movies at your house while you play with your phone, she knows you don't like those movies and just watching them while she warms up to you makes her happy, you don't even need to watch or talk to her!

[mapledkanata]

Hi! Hello! Yes, I just wanted to come on here and tell you that I absolutely ADORE your Metalocalypse fanart, ESPECIALLY THE Class of 2013 AND IT'S FOLLOW UP! The grief, the anger, the anguish, the betrayal, the desperation to feel anything BUT pain, the tears, the screams, the body language, the giving in but not giving up; I FUCKING LOVE IT AND I ADORE IT AND I WISH MORE PEOPLE COULD APPRECIATE THE RAW EMOTION I KNOW YOU PUT INTO IT! (Also LOVE the way you draw them, especially Toki's hair, just makes me happy:3)

ALSO, Completely in love with your monster hunter renditions of Dethklok, LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE THEIR DESIGNS! You made Murderface especially so scrumdiddlyumptious, I can't stop looking at him!! But all of them are SO GOOD!!!

Anyway, I just wanted to give you some love because I fucking love it when you post the boys and I always look forward to a post. Ok, that's all, lol, Love You 💘

Thank you, Anon...,,,, words cannot express how much your message means to me. I truly appreciate it and I'm so SO glad my works can speak to you that way,,

just thank you and many more thank yous!! <333

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her. pt.7

Chapter 6

Summary: Reader and Ellie bond, and reader meets up with Abby. Betrayal ensues

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, violence. Reader and Ellies dynamic is painfully awkward, shorter chapter. Ellie is def in love but doesn't know it, reader is weak for Abby and her words, Betrayal. A very short chapter I am so sorry! Longer chapter seven will be coming up to make up for it! Abby has comp het. Homophobia, the D slur, foul language

How exactly did she get here? Abby thought as Owen was kissing her, eyes wide open unmoving under his touch

It didn't feel right, none of it felt right, not unless it was y/n. His hands weren't gentle or soft like yours, they didn't know her body the way you did. They were not welcome.

Yet she stayed, why exactly she was unsure. Maybe she was just pathetic trying to move on from someone she had assumed died.

She should've looked for you, tried harder, done everything in her power to get to you. She missed you so much.

Owen pulled away, noticing her lack of interest in the kiss.

“What's wrong”

“Owen we can't keep doing this”

“What? Why?”

Now Abby was a blunt person so she did not hesitate to say.

“I don't love you”

“You don't have too we are just having fun”

“Well it's not fun anymore”

Owen looks at Abby with an annoyed expression

“Is this about your dyke ex?”

“The fuck did you just call her?”

“So it is about that bitch”

“Dont you fucking say that. you don't know her”

“I never got along with her, I don't understand how you were with her. She was a total cunt to me”

“Maybe you deserved it”

Owen rolls his eyes, Abby turns away, frustrated. Sure, Owen became an asshole when she left him for y/n but he would've never called y/n names like that if she was still with Abby.

“You're still in love with her.”

Abby met Owen's eyes, the look she gave him was enough of an answer.

Owen put his head in his hands, groaning.

“This was a mistake.” 

Owen gave her an empty stare, she turned facing away from him and he walked away.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ellie and y/n didn't make it very far on the horse, Shimmer started to grow tired and needed rest as well as food and water. This was a blessing in disguise as going too far would make it difficult to meet up with Abby again. 

However, this was the one time in your life where the greatest emotion you experienced was ambivalence. You loved Abby, but she was so willing to sleep with her ex when you went missing. You could see by the way she reacted by the sight of you, that she loved you too, Owen was likely a distraction, but you knew the power you had over her. In your time together she had been emotionally closed off to basically anyone else but alone it was always

“y/n I missed you”

“y/n I got this for you, I hope you like it, it reminded me of you!”

“y/n don't you ever leave me, I love you”

You'd appear in a room and she was instantly weak in the knees, and you knew that. Anything you wanted or needed she would provide without you having to ask. She was your lover but she was also your best friend and the moments you had with her were your most cherished memories. So it made literally no sense, how could she have been with Owen? She never alluded to having any attraction to him after they had broken up. And so, you equated it to being absolute, unescapable desperation. 

She must've been desperate to have gotten with someone else.

At the same time, you questioned your sanity, did Abby have the right to move on since youd been missing for so long?

Hmmmm no, definitely not 

That is what the toxic part of you thought. She wasn't allowed to love someone else. And if she did, she would always be reminded of you as the best girl she's ever had. She certainly treated you like you were. You'd always treated her like she’d crafted the moon, the stars, the night sky just for you. 

“If she wanted to she would”  was always your mindset, the adoration always went both ways, The relationship you had was beautiful. But was it time to let it go? To mourn it?

“y/n? You okay? You seem kind of lost in thought” Ellie questioned from her place on the floor beside a resting Shimmer. 

“Yea I kinda am lost in thought”

Ellie adjusted herself so she was across from you, knees brushing against each other. Her expression was open as if to say “Talk to me, I’ll listen” 

“I'm having a hard time feeling… like I need to let some things go”

Ellie gave an awkward smile, “Oh I kind of hold onto grudges so I'm not the best with that but if you wanna talk I'll listen!”

“I just need to move on from the past, I guess. It's just difficult” You mumbled, fiddling with your necklace.

Ellie nods urging you to continue

“I really miss how my life used to be.” 

“Oh, I see” Ellie says, “What about it do you miss?”

“I miss the people, I miss the comfort of having a place of feeling like I belonged”

Ellie considers this for a moment before looking at you with the most genuine loving expression youd ever gotten from her

“You do belong, you belong with me.”

You flushed, did Ellie even realize the connotations of what she was saying? At your embarrassment she also turned bright red.

“Oh! Uhmm I meant like… you always have…., uhhhhh. Fuck” Ellie hides her face in her hands clearly humiliated by her own words,

An awkward silence.

“You always have a safe place with me, is what I meant”

Nice save Ellie!

“Thanks Els, that actually does make me feel better”’

“Good! I'm glad”

That night you didnt leave until you were sure Ellie was in a deep slumber, you then snuck off.

Abby waited inside the tower,heart pounding and sweating. Nervous as ever. She’d kicked everyone out, only wanting to be alone with you.

When you made it up she snapped all her attention to you, a gas lamp lighting up the room.

“You came”

“Yea, kind of had too” You sat down next to her on her sleeping bag.

She watched you, every breath you took, every movement you gave and every part of you could see with the dim lighting of the lamp she took in.

“I missed you”

You didn't say anything, she tried again to start a conversation

“Where were you?”

“I've been staying in a town named Jackson. With a friend”

“Oh”

“Yea” The air was tense.

“Why… Why didn't you look for me? I would’ve looked for you, fuck, I was looking for you”

“I tried but Owen was pissy and-”

“Oh don't give me that bullshit, if you loved me you wouldn't have let anyone stop you”

That one hit deep, Abby loved you, she adored you, she needed you and she felt horrible for not looking hard enough, for trying to replace you with Owen when he could never amount to you.

“I didn't know if you were alive, and if you weren't, I couldn't handle the thought of finding you lifeless or worse.”

“You were scared”

“Terrified… y/n I cant, I can't handle losing you again” She spoke with a shake in her tone matching the trembling of her hands.

“I tried being with Owen to move on but I can't, I love you, I never stopped loving you”

Abby was looking at you now, searching for a reaction

“I just wanted to forget how much I missed you but I couldn't, not when nothing felt right or natural the way It did with you. Every time he touched me It wasn't the same, and it could never be the same because you are the only one I've ever wanted, ever needed, ever yearned for. And I'm sorry I didn't look harder, I should've crossed any limit to find you. I regret it more than anything. I just want my girl back by my side again” 

Finally you broke, tears of last night clouding your vision, Abby pulled you into her seeing your face drop and you allowed yourself to lean on her.

“So you don't love him?”

“I could never love him the way I've loved you all these years, and a few months a part could never change how deeply I feel for you”

“ I love you too, I missed you so much Abby '' Sobs wracked through your body, and she held you tighter than ever as if you'd disappear if she let go. 

“I really hope you can forgive me, I will spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you y/n”

“Abby you can't go back home”

“What?” Abby turned to you with a lost expression, wondering about the sudden change in conversation.

“You can't go back to seattle.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The man you killed, Joel, there was a girl there she watched it happen right? The guy who killed your father”

“Yes but what about it?”

“She is going to kill you.”

Notes: So sorry about the short chapter. I update daily and a better one should be out soon! Thanks for reading <333333.

[lavenderafterglow]

Your Relationship with Kaeya

Kaeya x gn!reader (no pronouns used other than

"you" )

Warnings: some NSFW things in here, Minors DNI! Blank and ageless blogs will be blocked!

A/n: I know i usually dont write nsfw but its Kaeya. This man is just a walking nsfw post. (Repost because the other one wasn’t showing in tags 😞)

Before you guys even started dating, Kaeya would flirt with you. In a different way than he did with others I should say. He was genuine with what he was saying to you, “Y/N, you look amazing today! I love the way you look today” He would say as he passed you in the knights headquarters. His hands would linger just a little longer than they should when he would pass by you in a confined space. At every meeting he would search for you and try his best to be near you. obviously this didn’t go unnoticed by you, so you would flirt back sometimes which just gave the man so much hope!

Though he loves flirty and teasing you, if you ever mention that you are uncomfortable with it he will stop or at least ease off on how much he does flirt/tease you.

He is the type to get jealous over anything, even if you aren’t together, he still considers you his. If he get jealous he wont tell you. He will just ignore you until he feels better. He has very high expectations. Sometimes when he ignores you, he can see that it hurts you but he’s stubborn and wont stop.

When you finally became a couple, he tried his best to make it memorable. That day it was raining so he had the idea to use his vision to try and make the rain into snow. He failed. But that doesn’t matter as it was the thought that counted for you.

Kaeya keeps secrets. We all know this. He has his secrecy’s, he will keep them. Even from you. It doesn’t matter what your relationship is with him, you will never know everything. You one timed tried to ask about his past and his home country, that was a mistake as it resulted in a 3 day fight and silent treatment. It took Jean to finally have him speak to you just because she couldn’t handle the tension that was emanating from the two of you. She has since asked that any future fights be left at home.

He really dislikes being vulnerable, even around you. He thinks it makes him weak. (Which it doesn’t but he hasn’t know anything else) you help him with this though. When he finally started to open up about his relationship with Diluc and their father he started to break down, which in turn made him shut down about the topic. But Y/N to the rescue. You helped him open up and express his emotions. He cried in your arms for a few hours that night, but it was all worth it in the end as he has now learned its ok to be vulnerable.

Kaeya has been through so much, he’s the type to want constant reassurance that everything is ok with your relationship, that you really love and care for him, etc.

The constant need for reassurance had an effect on his love language

He loves and I mean LOVES physical touch. He will always without fail have his hands on you in someway, arm around your waist as you walk around Mondstat, holding your hand across the dining table or in meetings, an arm around your shoulder while standing in Angel Share, you name it. Holding you makes him feel safe, makes him feel secure in the relationship as if he will never lose you.

*If he could, he’d have you sitting in his lap 24/7, giving you bruising kisses and small open mouthed kisses on your neck and jaw line, he absolutely ADORES leaving marks all over your body. His favorite place to leave marks is the soft spot on your jaw right below your ear, as well as all over your chest/neck. He likes to make a game out of it and tried to make different shapes with his hickies. He’s very possessive, not that it bothers you though, you’ve come to love it especially with the girls throwing themselves at him on nights out, but he just causally walks up to you and starts sucking a new mark on any exposed flesh.

*Kaeya is a kinky motherfucker, He loves to edge you and overstimulate you till he has you begging and crying for him to let you have your release. Whether he lets you though, thats a different story. Now if he denies you the orgasam, you better listen, if not you’re in for a long night and be prepared to have to take a sick day the next day because he will leave you unable to walk.

He would 100 % fuck you in public. Alley ways during patrol, his office, your office, the library when lisa is gone (or not depends on how risky he’s feeling) He would shield you in his coat as he fucks you senseless. Good luck walking home Y/N, this man is carrying you the rest of the way home.

If he doesn’t have the time to do anything with you, he loves giving you random kisses throughout the day. Whether he’s passing you in the knights headquarters or out in the streets when he’s on patrol. He will always stop and give you a kiss. His favorite is cheek kisses cause it leaves you fluster and smiling to yourself after he leaves.

Kaeya isn’t the player everyone thinks him to be. He is and will always be loyal to the one he’s with. He loves you too much to hurt you in that way

Y/n you are one lucky person to have this man in your life.

© lavenderafterglow 2022 : Please do not claim, modify, copy or repost/translate any of my work on this site or any other site this includes TikTok and YouTube!

Requests are open!

[anto-pops]

hi☺️ how are you?🫶🏻 I recently got an idea for a fic (I used to write but i’m honestly not satisfied with my works yet so i never posted anything) andd I was wondering if you have any tips maybe? Because I can’t stress enough how talented you are! (if you ever write a book pls let me know!!!) and i’d really appreciate some tips if you were willing to give me some🫶🏻 My ideas usually come in my mind visually, like i’m watching a film, and I struggle finding the right words to express what’s in my head and I’m not sure how to fix that😕 in my head it’s so intense and full of emotion and alive but when i’m writing… it’s a disaster I think🥲 anyway thank you in advance whether you decide to give me tips or not, i know it’s a lot to ask but I adore the way you write🫶🏻☀️

AKJFHDSKF THANK YOU LOVIE !!! This is so sweet and nice of you to say, I appreciate the kind words more than you know 💕

I would absolutely love to give you tips ! I've answered a few asks like this in the past, one of which you can find here just to save time and reiterate most of what I would say.

It sounds like you've got the overall plot of your story nailed down and you know what you want to write, so the best thing I would recommend for your visualizing tactic is to make an outline that can better depict the progression of the whole thing. I totally get wanting to just control c + control v your thoughts onto a page and be done with it, but that's where being patient with yourself comes in. The outline doesn't need to be followed to the letter (mine very rarely are), but it can really help you organize the order of events you're imagining in your head.

Take your time with describing the scenes in your story that build up to that final, pinnacle moment. It might seem like you're rambling, but in my personal experience the added attention there really pays off in the end. I always follow the 'show-not-tell' guideline when I write so there's less of me telling the readers what's going on and more of me showing it. An example would be a character's body language changing when they're uncomfortable, or icy wind leeching the warmth from their cheeks. Little things like that can add life to a story vs. simply stating "He was uncomfortable" or "She was cold".

Writing isn't a linear process for most people. There's ups and downs and lengthy breaks followed by intense, week long binges of word vomit, so definitely be kind to yourself and have fun with it ! If you need anything else feel free to shoot me another ask or DM me, I would be happy to help ! Have a great day and good luck my dear 💗

[pyroclastic727]

Is Amity autistic?

In the Owl House fandom, we hear a lot about how Luz is written to be ADHD. Now I would like to present the flipside: Amity is coded as autistic.

Here’s the breakdown.

Amity is touch-averse. “BuT aMiTy ToUcHeS LuZ aLL tHe TiMe” nice try. The key to autistic touch-aversion is only being okay with touch when she initiates it. And that totally matches up with Amity. See, Amity is really happy when she initiates touch with Luz. She’s also cool with it when Luz holds her hand after standing near her for enough time that Amity can predict an incoming touch. That’s because Amity consents to that touch and expects it.

But when other people touch her? She doesn’t take kindly to that. When Luz initially bumped into her at Covention, she snapped at her and degraded her. Even when she bumped into Luz in Enchanting Grom Fright, her initial instinct was to snap at Luz, since she didn’t expect to be touched. When Hooty touched Amity’s face without consent, she flipped out and beat him up. Not even Lilith beat Hooty up when he wrapped her up in his mucus-filled tube, but Amity gave Hooty the injuries we all wanted to see him with, because he breached her boundaries without her consent. Even as late as the last episode, Amity fell over when her face got close to Luz’s on the bleachers, because she didn’t expect it.

Amity stims. Okay, this one took me a while to catch, since most of the time, Amity is very controlled with her actions. This symptom isn’t very intense; her senses aren’t understimulated too often, and she really only does it when she’s really excited.

Mainly, when Luz offered to carry her. While she adorably scrambled for words, she also flapped her hands against her legs. At first I thought it was just a cute thing she did, but there’s more to it. She was so excited to be held by Luz that it showed up in her hands flapping...a common stim. With Amity feeling more comfortable around her new friends than the old ones, I wouldn’t be surprised to see more stimming in the future.

Amity always has The Mask as her expression. You know, the one with her eyes half-lidded, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly downturned. I also call it the Resting Blight Face, for...reasons.

At first I thought it was just a way to hide her true emotions, since her parents are assholes. But even though Luz makes her feel accepted, she keeps doing it. It’s more like...you know that feeling when you’re thinking really hard, or uncomfortable, or ashamed, or even just relaxed, and you can’t think of which expression to wear quickly enough, so you put on an unreadable one to tide people over? Apparently most people don’t do that, since allistic people tend to have expressions for those feelings, ones that arise naturally.

Another symptom of autism is having hard-to-read expressions, or being less expressive. In Amity’s case, it’s the fact that she doesn’t see a need to have an expression in calmer moments, so she just uses her usual expression.   

Amity hyperfixates. This has several facets, so I’ll break this down.

She initially hyperfixated on school. And that’s how she became top student. Amity Blight is who you would mistake for a “gifted student.” But make no mistake...she is not gifted, and gifted is a bullshit label used to overexert people and force them to keep school as their special interest for their entire lives (and I may have a bit of a vendetta against it). Anyways, we already know she’s a perfectionist. My theory is that Amity originally was hyperfocused on school--the Abominations track, to be exact--and that’s part of how she got so good. Then, her focus shifted, but the school expected her to keep being top student. Cue the perfectionism; she was no longer able to focus on school like she wanted to, but everyone expected her to, so she got insecure about it.

She hyperfixates on Azura, just like Luz did. Yeah, she keeps it secret from the world, for most of the time. But she definitely likes Azura a lot. I mean, she started to reconsider her opinion on Luz when Luz offered her an Azura book. She destroyed her jock career because she tried to use an Azura move in real-life Grudgby. Her interest in Azura is long-lived, starting about the time that her interest in school would have expired (which would explain why she stayed closeted). And we can’t ignore the fact that she sees Azura in Luz and is definitely enjoying the parallels between herself and her fictional counterpart. (Which might not be a coincidence, but that’s an entirely different theory).

She hyperfixates on Luz. Yes, part of this is a crush. But a lot of us have watched Amity’s personality go from alpha bitch to cutest little bean in the Boiling Isles, all thanks to Luz’s influence. Lumity is not a rivals-to-lovers speedrun due to bad writing, it’s due to Amity hyperfixating. She’s already extremely introspective, going so far as to keep a diary where she analyzes and makes sense of herself. It’s not a stretch to say that she identified the faults that kept her from Luz and worked hard to change those off-screen. 

Amity keeps a journal. To me, this seems like masking. You see, Amity is what people would consider to be high-functioning, since she can pass for allistic. But in order to do this, she has to put in significant effort on her part. See, when she does something that makes it so she doesn’t pass, she just sees it as a problem (since she probably doesn’t know about autism, and she passes well enough that she would totally be undiagnosed). Then she tries to fix the problem, in order to keep being perfect. 

Amity has awkward body language. Thanks to the journal and other ways of masking, you don’t see this early on. But once she feels comfortable enough around Luz to let her guard down...she completely forgets boundaries. To review: in episodes 15-17, she throws herself at Luz, holds her formal rival’s hand for 24.71 seconds, blushes every time she sees Luz, and loudly declares her thirsty thoughts about Luz in uniform before literally running away. While some of this can be seen as normal gal pal things or crush things...you’d think a repressed wlw like Amity would try very hard not to touch Luz, so as to avoid being outed. Or at least she would do less of that stuff, so as to respect Luz’s boundaries the way she wants her boundaries to be respected. But that’s not the case, since she straight-up misses a lot of social cues. And since she feels comfortable around Luz, she doesn’t feel the pressure to be so paranoid about the cues, and can be her awkward self. From her point of view, she probably sees it as being freed from her parents’ judgment.

Amity takes things literally, sometimes. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, since she isn’t heavily affected by this autistic trait. But when Luz says “I’m picking up what you’re putting down” and Amity says “I’m not putting down anything” and looks down...she not only missed the conclusion Luz drew from her words, but also assumed a literal meaning from her words. I can’t come up with many other instances of this, mostly because this doesn’t happen often. I would assume that Amity missed these a lot early on, and learned how to mask/identify them.

Amity is easily upset when things don’t go as planned. Let’s review these. In the library, she gets really mad at Luz when they end up stitched to a book, and it takes Luz’s sweet personality to get Amity to loosen up and laugh over it. When she goes to practice magic, and Luz steals her wand and uses it to get her siblings kidnapped, Amity locks Luz in a cage and assumes that she will get badly injured if she tries to fix the problems she caused. When Luz comes to her school, she panics and focus on how that doesn’t change anything. When she burns Willow’s mind, she appears absolutely terrified of being punished, flinching and bracing for impact when Luz finds her near the memories, constantly trying to distract Luz as they work together to save Willow, and hiding behind Luz when she confronts the Inner Willow. When Luz asks her to join her in Grudgby, Amity doesn’t initially agree, instead taking much more of the episode to come to terms with her involvement in it.

Amity likes predictability. She’s not attached to routines, but she does like being able to expect things. If she makes a plan for the day, she expects that day to adhere to that plan, and she doesn’t respond well when it changes. When Luz comes to her school, she focus on how that doesn’t change anything...not how that would ruin things or complicate things. Whenever she gets involved in Luz’s shenanigans, she either gets angry, scared, or takes a while to accept it. In a broader sense, she takes a while to accept that Luz and her shenanigans are a permanent fixture in her life--sixteen episodes, to be exact.

Finally, it would make for some excellent representation. An ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist is pretty groundbreaking. But an ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist girl who dates an autistic wlw witch girl from another dimension is exactly the kind of intersectional representation you’d expect to see from an unrestricted Owl House crew.

...Now, this might just be me hardcore projecting. I’m a little scared to post this because I don’t know how much of this is me reading into imaginary things, or trying to convince myself that Amity is like me. Feel free to debate/disprove me or support me in the comments. 

[peachyteabuck]

never lost in the crowd (yelena belova x reader)

↪ summary: you’re a little naive, and natasha enjoys pissing yelena off. 

commissioned by anonymous

↪ pairing: yelena belova x reader

↪ words: 3,003

↪ trigger warnings: jealousy/possessiveness, strap ons, fisting, flirting, mentioned nonmonogamy (i refuse to say ‘unethical’ nonmonogamy because that’s just cheating), alcohol consumption 

Yelena had never been one to share. Not food, not clothes, not emotions, not space, and most certainly not you. She was outwardly territorial, nearly snarling at anyone who so much as laid eyes upon you. It had been that way since you first began dating all those years ago – you, a bartender and her, a patron with too much time, money, and patience.

Yelena was a little rough around the edges, had always had trouble expressing her wide and deep love for you; but she tried, as often as she could, to show her affection and adoration for you. And you loved her not in spite of these things, but because of them.

So when you finally were able to convince her to go on vacation with you to her hometown a few years after you had made it official, you were nothing short of ecstatic; Yelena hated vacations more than she hated being approached by strangers in public who are attempting to compliment her outfit.

But more than either of those emotions, she loved you, so she called Natasha to let her know you two would be staying in the town and booked the two of you a hotel.

The first night there was fantastic – sex on the large bed with her strap buried deep inside you, riding her face as you dipped fresh fruit in delectable whipped cream, you eating her pussy as she laid on silk sheets. In short, the room is as nice as it is expensive; but no matter how big the bed and beautiful the tall windows, it still felt like you were trapped.

Luckily, Natasha had invited the both of you to go clubbing. Maybe she suspected you to be stir crazy, but part of you couldn’t help but think the fiery redhead and all of her cunning ways.

That name – Natasha – somehow described her better than any adjective in any language could. Not quite foe, not quite friend. Their relationship was built upon begrudging respect more than anything else. And yet they loved each other, even if they had a hard time expressing it.

Yelena gets a reply almost immediately after texting her.

there’s this club

You can practically hear Yelena sigh as she reads it aloud.

it’s opening like 2 streets away from me. ppl have gone and they said it’s amazing

u n ur piece wanna go?

No, Yelena thinks. She absolutely does not. But you do, you do so badly, and so she sends a quick “yes,” helps you pick out a dress, and escorts you from the lobby to a black car that takes you to the aforementioned club.

This, the club, with its colored lights and the music so loud the ground shook, with its sweaty bodies and overpriced drinks with their corresponding ridiculous names. The freedom of the crowd is one of the few places you can really let loose, dancing to dance-pop songs sung in languages you barely understand while people around you do the same in varying degrees of sobriety. Here, you’re able to release all the tension you’d kept

Natasha, as well, constantly yearns for the anonymity that comes only from being in a crowd of drunk strangers. It’s hard to club by yourself as a woman, especially when one is seeking other women, and it’s always more fun to do shots with old friends than new ones.

Plus, Natasha quite enjoys the little game of cat and mouse that you always seem to fall into. Games where she let her hand linger too long on bare skin, or complimented you just to watch you hide your face in your shoulder.

She knew that this back and forth was a dangerous game to play – she knew since you two were introduced all those years ago it came with high risks and the only real benefit being pissing Yelena off. She’d known since she was a child about Yelena’s track record of territorial behavior. Natasha is the closest thing Yelena has to a family, and knows better than anyone how Yelena got when her bear was poked.

Yet here she was, staring down at a chess board as if there was no timer. She may have not had Yelena’s king yet (or ever, given the way the pieces were placed on the checkered board), but she was determined to make Yelena’s hold over it as tedious and unstable as possible.  

Here, as she brushes tendrils of hair from your forehead, as she laughs at all your stupid jokes and offers you sips from her fruity cocktail (that she, a vodka enthusiast, secretly purchased for you) – holding the drink to your lips and wiping away the dribbles of liquid that are left on your chin. She compliments your make up as an excuse to stare at your lips, does the same with your outfit – even asking you to twirl for her.

She sees you eyeing the dance floor and bouncing on your heels to the beat and asks if you want to join here there, dance pop blaring through speakers that area almost comically large. There, with your short, metallic dress and your high heels and your legs made unstable by alcohol; with her own steady boots and skin-tight black jeans and cropped crop tank top. The dynamics of your dress doesn’t escape your notice; it does, though, escape your attention as Natasha pushes and pulls you to the beat. It’s loud, heavy on your skin – you can feel its weighted press against each of your bones as you twist and turn. You wonder if you could keep this feeling forever, the pure euphoria and bliss clouding all of your inhibitions and thoughts.

With the heavenly delight joining with your red blood cells, you can’t help but back your shoulders against Natasha’s. You also can’t help but join both of your hips for a few verses, and you certainly can’t help as Natasha steadies you at the waist.

Yelena, of course, sees all of this. She sees you laughing and watching you press your drink to your cheek to cool the heat that’s pooling there; watches you hike up your dress just a little and eye Natasha head to toe. Neither of you had been shy about your attraction to each other, especially since you and Yelena had never been the strictest followers of monogamy – threesomes and sex parties and flirting had occurred with both parties present over the course of your long relationship.

Still, needless to say, she isn’t very happy about watching you and her old friend eye each other like prey as if it was some sort of contest. Natasha’s different than some random woman while you and Yelena on vacation, or another couple who you meet while at a sex shop.

It’s Natasha fucking Romanoff, someone Yelena has known as long as she’s been alive, and it makes anger lick at her skin in a way no one else ever had.

Despite these simmering feelings, your girlfriend isn’t so sure about what to do besides seethe silently as she nurses her Old Fashioned, but she knows for sure she doesn’t want to make a scene. It could either go well – in which you ended up under her back at the hotel she had so graciously paid for – or it could go poorly, in which she saw one, two, or all three of you fighting off a multiplicity of bouncers who wished to keep arrests for assaults down for the week.

Either way, it’s much too risky. The last thing she needs is to run from cops again.

And so she waits. She simply sits in a booth across the club – surrounded by other friends while her eyes remain trained on Natasha watching you like a lion watches an injured zebra, the woman nearly drooling at the sight of you in that tight dress. Yelena’s jaw tenses with each passing beat, the pair of you never getting lost in the flow of the crowd.

In truth, you could be behind a thick brick wall, and Yelena would still find you. She knew you too well, and you loved her too much, to let the invisible string that tied you both together become too taunt.

Still, it feels like hours later that Natasha pulls away, citing her need for water as an excuse to leave you vulnerable and alone.

(It should be stated she isn’t lying about her desire for hydration, but Natasha had felt parched for quite some time before her buckling knees screamed at her to flag down a bartender and allow the backlash from her actions to crumble into place.)

Yelena is quick to fill the gap behind you.

“Bathroom,” she hisses, her teeth just missing their opportunity to bite down on the outer lobe of your ear.

You ignore the goosebumps sprouting along your spine as you speak, even as your brain screams to fall into submission. “But I don’t-“

“Bathroom,” she repeats, the hand against your hip squeezing hard enough to draw a gasp from you. “Now. And I don’t want to hear any snark from you either.”

She punctuates her words with a SLAP to your ass, not meeting your eyes as she stalks towards the back of the club. It takes a second or two for the reality of your actions to sink beneath your skin, but it doesn’t take long before you’re quickly trying to follow where Yelena had gone, doing your best not to crash into any fellow clubgoers or trip over a lost shoe.

Your heart thumps in your ears (or maybe that’s the base from this terrible remix of a song that was popular two years ago), your hands sweaty and knees weak. It’s both a year-long journey and a blink-of-an-eye excursion; both a trek and an easy stroll until you’re in front of a small sign embezzled in a small gender-neutral figure in a language you could not read even if you were sober.

Before the door can close behind you your stomach is pressed into the marble countertops, trapped between the cold material and the hot skin of Yelena. Essentially, you were exactly where you wanted to be, even if that was between a sink and an automatic hand dryer.

Her voice breaks your focus on the sensation of her on top of you. “Open your mouth,” Yelena murmurs as first her fingers, then her thumb presses against your tongue. “C’mon, be a good little girl and show me how eager you are.”

You do your best to work your tongue around and between her fingers, sucking and moaning and choking as she rubs at the back of your tongue.

“That’s right,” she murmurs, a devious smile pressed against your ear. “Show me what a good whore you are.”

You can only take so much more before you’re backing away for such an important commodity as oxygen; although you’re not able to breathe much before your dress is hiked up to your hips and your panties are pushed to the side. There’s a half second where cool air against your (now bare) dripping core draws a small gasp from your lips, but it only lasts for so long before the fingers that were once in your mouth are now inching past your walls.

“That feel good?” she asks rhetorically, reveling in your speechless state; watching as your hands – used to being able to twist in silk sheets – now unsuccessfully trying to find purchase on the hard surface. “Does your Daddy make you feel good?”

“Yes!” you immediately reply, babbling nonsense as she finds that special spot inside of you that makes your vision cross-fade into a bright white. “Yes Daddy you make me feel so good!”

She revels in this – the feeling of you tightening around your fingers, the stirring in her stomach that she gets every time she brings you this kind of agonizing pleasure. If she could spend eternity in this high-end club bathroom with you under her, she’d consider that a blessing given to her by Sappho herself. Oh, what an afterlife that would be.

“That’s right - You’re mine,” she hisses, her arm reaching around to fit her palm against your throat – effectively using your own body as leverage while she fucks you. “You’re mine, and no one else’s. You understand this?”

You give her as much of a nod as you can, the fire behind her eyes spreading heat across your cheeks as you watch yourself in the large mirror. You nearly don’t recognize yourself until your eyes somewhat refocus; your eyeline is down to your cheeks, your lipstick is smeared, your brow is sweaty, your highlighter dulled beyond recognition. All of your hard work turned Jackson Pollock with a few drinks.

Yelena notices your kinship with Narcissus as easily as she slips in another finger, a devious smile spreading across her face and her eyes clouding with determination. “You like watching me wreck you like this?” she asks, her thrusts now a harsh staccato. “You like watching your Daddy ruin you so easily?”

All you can do is moan.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she purrs. “You’re such a pretty little thing, and I bet you know that don’t you? You know that Daddy loves pretty things?” You nod, your movements sloppy and delayed. “Good girl. And do you know what Daddy does to pretty things?”

This time you can’t do anything, her whole fist now inside your dripping cunt.

“I wreck them.”

Before you can truly process what’s happening Yelena’s unzipping her skintight black jeans to free her silicon cock, spitting on the head, and then filling you full of it.  

“Fuck!” you scream, all of the air squeezed from your lungs with that one motion. It’s big, textured, hitting all the right spots inside of you. It is, in a word, perfect. You couldn’t make a better cock if you were god herself.

“You like this one?” She smirks as she speaks, asking just to see your inability to answer. “Bought it the day I bought the plane tickets. I was going to save it for our last night here, but as soon as I saw you in that tight little dress, I knew you were just begging to be fucked by this thing.”

Her strokes are hard and fast, fucking the power of speech and cohesive thought from you. Your feet are barely touching the floor, one knee hiked up onto the counter to give her leverage over you. She’s the only thing holding you in place, the scaffolding of a house or an exoskeleton. Without her, you’re sure you’d crumble into a pile of skin and other soft tissue on the floor. In this moment, Yelena and you are one; and you’re uninterested to any action that would lead to your separation.

In short, it’s good, it’s so good, in a way you could barely describe. Maybe, you think. You should flirt with Natasha more often, if this would also be the end result.

Yelena brings you back to earth with her deepening fervor, punctuating each word with a thrust. “You’re my good little girl, right?”

You do your best to babble out an answer, nodding feverishly along with it.

“Then come for me,” she commands.        

Yelena reaches around to rub at your aching clit, your own slick allowing her to form tight circles in rapid succession. It’s so much at once, and yet exactly what you crave.

“F-fuck, I-“ your speech is at best slurred. “I’m, Daddy, I-, I’m gonna-“

Still, somehow, Yelena can parse through your babble. “Yes, my love,” her thrusts become more intense as she’s egged on by your whines. “Yes, my good girl. Come for me, I know you can do it. Come for me.”

And with her encouragement, you do.

You reach your own peak with a scream so loud you nearly drown out the music, heartbeat drumming in your ears and euphoria spreading like fireworks in a night sky just under your skin. For a moment, everything fades away and it is just you and the woman you love. For a moment, you wonder if this is what it’s like to skydive: to trust in something that you can barely see, to have your veins so full of adrenaline you’d be sure it replaced your blood had it not been drawn to the surface as Yelena’s hands grab at your waist. You’re suspended in midair, hoping you come back to earth in the same condition you left.

You’re both panting as your consciousness returns to you, pressed flat against each other. It’s the two of you, alone, in love. You’re practically melted into one big puddle. And that is enough.

“Hey ‘Lena have you seen-“

Fuck – the second you hear her voice your entire once-lax body freezes, now even more of a toy to Yelena than before.

“Oh well, well, well,” you can practically hear her smirk. “Look what we have here.”

If Natasha’s smirk is nearly audible, Yelena’s smug grin screams in your ears.

“Like the view?” the woman behind you asks rhetorically, her childhood best friend staring you both down as Yelena continues to fuck into you.

Natasha doesn’t move, frozen in place not by fear, but by lust.

If you were capable of such a talent as language you might’ve said something akin to a quip, but somewhere between Yelena’s fingers and several inches of her strap that had become impossible for you.

The woman atop you knows this, as does the woman in front of you, but Yelena seems to be the only one to know just how to take advantage of your mentally numbed state. She snakes an arm around to grab at your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet Natasha’s through the mirror. You’re sensitive from your orgasm, and begin to shake as her strap begins to move inside of you.

“Now tell her, baby,” Yelena hisses into your ear, her words punctuated with light thrusts. “Who, do you, belong to?”

[whaleofatjme1920]

Ok so Ik this has already been done with ej, but I’m a toby simp, and I wanted to ask. Reader finding out toby is cheating on them? Maximum of 1k words, a scenario idk, smth. Ty!

-👾

It's Dangerous, To Love the Sun

[Ticci Toby X F!Reader]

[Warnings: angst in general, physical and emotional cheating, violence, language]

[AN: I listened to Brooksie - Not Into You slowed + reverbed while writing this, I hope you enjoyed! Also went a lil over,,, the word count because I kinda liked this,,,,,,,,,,,]

You love Toby. Ever since he came into your life, you’ve been happier with him at your side. He makes you smile, he makes your heart sing. You’ve never felt so complete.

The way he looks at you is akin to gazing at a masterpiece. His eyes are so full of love when he gazes at you from across the room, wondering when you’ll finally break away from your conversation with Jeff to be at his side again.

His touch is gentle, never harsh. Toby’s fingers trace up and down your forearms and back, ghosts, whisper-like kisses of physical affection in an attempt to show you what he verbally cannot express. He’s always so warm, so loving, so whole.

He completes you, is what you’re trying to get at.

The two of you like to sit on rooftops late at night because neither Masky nor Hoodie can stand the two of you giggling at odd hours of the day in their presence. Kate’s not around long enough to actually care. When it’s just the two of you sitting up here, quiet, against each other and breathing in the sweet night air, you feel more complete than you’ve ever felt before.

You hum out, watching the stars twinkle in the sky, a dreamy expression on your face as Toby momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“What’s o-o-on your mind, b-baby?” He asks, a brow raised. Toby shifts on the shingles, his arms wrapping around you like an octopus, bringing you closer and closer into his warmth.

You find yourself blanketed in him and relax. “You’re so good to me, y’know that?” You say.

Toby scoffs and rolls his eyes. “O-Other way around,” he corrects.

You tilt your head and shake it slightly, telling him he’s wrong. “You’ve always been so good to me,” you continue, brushing off his attempts to play down your saccharine words.

He knows you’re not fibbing, but at the same time, he refuses to admit to your claims. “I d-d-did what w-was expected o-of me, you know t-that,” he states plainly.

You take in another deep breath before resting your head on his shoulder, melting into him. You pick up his scent: oak and burning winter, before retorting against him again in a voice a hair above a whisper. “You’re wrong.”

Toby laughs, his lips pressing to the side of your head. “If y-y-you say so,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your head and eventually your face. He revels in the sound of your laughter as he does so, leaving no inch of you unkissed.

“I know so.”

The two of you fall back into a pleasant silence.

You’ve always viewed Toby like he has power over the sun, because, as far as being a proxy goes? He does. When you were first plucked from your life and called for something ‘greater’, it was Toby who had taken pity on you, trained you, taught you all you needed to know and the ins and outs of this life. He was the one who shielded you from Masky, Hoodie and even Kate at times.

It was by his hand that you survived, and it is still by his hand that you thrive.

It was such a blinding adoration for a man you believed held dominion over the sun that kept you veiled from the truth of what he had been doing behind closed doors, yet could be seen through the windows.

Naturally, you didn’t want to believe it. Who would? The person you love’s heart has fled the place it used to live with you and taken up residence with someone else. That’s not an easy thing to admit, not when you realize that love truly is not all it takes.

Toby doesn’t want to admit it either. It started out as some strange infatuation, a fleeting crush - someone he would forget.

But her eyes? Her darling eyes? One of them the most beautiful shade of peridot he’d ever seen and the other a literal clock? They say the eyes (in her case, eye) are the window to the soul, and she had absolutely snared his. She was beautiful in a way Toby couldn’t describe, beautiful in a way that had him seeing a sky full of stars in the middle of the day, and beautiful in the sense she was timeless.

Toby knows he should be ashamed, that she’s his little secret, that what he has with Natalie can’t be compared with you, but he knows he can’t let you find out lest you go too far you can’t come back.

That blinding sun made you shrug off the bruises that were too keenly placed to be a victim’s sorry attempt at freeing themself. You shrugged off the scent of roses and wine. You shrugged off how his eyes saw past you, no longer at you. You shrugged it all off, choosing to stay blinded than face the truth.

And you would’ve happily lived in that ignorance if Toby didn’t grow cocky and arrogant and so fucking careless.

You’ve never really felt your world crash and burn until today. You've never been burned by the sun until this moment.

You’re looking into the eyes of a man you think owns the sun and see nothing but fear, regret, and pleading. Pleading for what? That you won’t leave him? That you’ll stay with him? You feel tears well in your eyes as you see him laying in your bed with her. The woman who had been naught but a shadow until now.

“R-Reader,” Toby begins, quickly wrestling up in the sheets, watching as your soul leaves your body in the doorway. “B-Baby, it’s n-no-”

You’re at a loss for words, and frankly, you don’t think he even deserves the right to your thoughts at this moment. Instead, you hold your hand up, silencing him, and turn to leave the temp house. You were out doing work for your fucking boss and get rewarded like this? The man you loved in bed with another woman, looking at her like she owned the moon. You take in a sharp breath and then begin to beeline to the front door when Toby finally gets out of the bed, ignoring the cries of confusion pouring from Natalie’s mouth.

Your heart races when you realize Toby is gaining on you. Your vision blurs through your tears.

He’s calling out for you, his stutter even stronger than before, bones popping louder and louder as he gets hit with the weight of what he’s done to you. “Stop! S-Stop fucking m-m-moving!” He hisses, his calloused hand reaching out for your wrist, successfully grabbing you.

You snarl like a caged, wounded animal, flesh burning at the contact. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you sneer as you attempt to rip your wrist from his iron grasp. In your other hand, you already have the car keys ready. You just want to be anywhere but here.

“I-I’m so s-s-sorry,” Toby says, attempting to pull you into a hug.

You struggle against him harder, hissing to be let go. The keys in your free hand are getting threaded in your fingertips. Your tears feel warm and boil your cheeks as they roll down like waterfalls. The harder he grips you, the more you feel you’ve been burned to a point of no return. “God fucking damn it, let me go!” You shout, not even noticing how Natalie has come out of the room to get Toby off of you. She’s quickly gaining in the hallway, confused on if she should step in or not.

Toby tries harder and harder to pull you into his embrace, and that’s when you strike.

You take your car key filled fingers and punch as hard as you can, the teeth of the keys dragging across Toby’s cheek, successfully shocking him into letting you go. You don’t even consider how badly you’ve hurt him and take the opportunity of his shock to flee the temp house, quickly hopping into the car.

“Reader!” Toby shouts, hand on his right cheek, not even caring about the claw marks you’ve left. “B-Baby, let’s t-talk about t-this-”

You start honking the horn to drown his voice out. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a scowl on your face, glare holding nothing but bullets towards Toby and Natalie as she attempts to wrangle him back into the house.

You watch as her arms wrap around his waist - she’s surprisingly gentle for dealing with such a belligerent man - before peeling out of the driveway, hand still honking the horn and practically waking up the neighborhood while you’re at it.

Your mind overloads as you drive, thoughts of the sun getting eclipsed by the other celestial body that overtakes it in full, swallowing it whole. You mutter angrily to yourself, turning on the radio for just noise as you finally get onto the expressway. And you drive. You drive until your head feels clear again, and when it does, you’re finally able to focus on something other than what’s in front of you on the endless stretch of road.

Autumn is making its way in, that much is apparent. Every now and then, specks of orange and red zip past your high beams. It’s cooler, and you swear you’ve passed a few flowering pumpkin patches.

You look to your left, gazing out the window for a moment or so.

The moon is decidedly absent this night.

You sigh as the fires extinguish in your heart, loneliness, sadness and any other emotion draining alongside it leaving a pit in your chest.

The emptiness quickly takes its place, haunting you like the ghost it is.

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

Can I call you mine?

A commission from the lovely @carlottastudios who I absolutely adore after only having a few conversations with. These were jealousy scenarios with a bit of spice! I went over my word limit on Jamil’s but that’s just cause I love him so much! Please enjoy! And commissions are open still! This one cost $3

Warnings: slight spice, fem!reader, jealousy, protectiveness, possessive behavior, light light LIGHT angst, marking kink (is that a thing? oh well. Basically a love bite that displays their claim.)

   “In the jungle, the botanical jungle, a lion sleeps all the time~!” you sang out teasingly. Leona huffed and his tail thumped against the ground once in irritation. Giggling, you slid closer and poked said tail, which retracted swiftly, prickling in annoyance.

   “Scram herbivore.” Leona’s tone was mildly annoyed but had no bite to it. Truthfully he hoped you would inch just a bit closer so he could grab you and hold you hostage as his pillow. 

   You hummed and stood, much to his displeasure, and grabbed your school stuff. Quietly you packed everything away and threw out your lunch trash before returning to Leona’s spot one more time.

   “I have class now, Leona. I’ll see you later, kay?” he grunted in agreement and watched you walk away, nose twitching as he inhaled your fresh scent one last time before it began to fade. The down side of the botanical garden was that any smell other than flowers was quickly dispersed by the sickeningly sweet perfume of nectar.

   The lion sighed and stared up at one such flower with distaste. How dare they try to outdo his beloved? He would never appreciate their scent more than hers. He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous thoughts and fell back asleep. He hummed as he did so, mimicking the tune you had sang to him. He missed you already.

----------

   5:48 P.M. You were 18 minutes late. 18 minutes had passed since you were supposed to be in Leona’s bed, curled up next to him, petting his ears, and doting on him like the king he was. 18 minutes where Leona gradually became more worried, as well.

   It wasn’t like you to be late. Especially not late to a night with him. It set his instincts off and he was on high alert, tensed, ready to pounce on anything that dared touch his mate. Finally when the clock turned 5:20 he sprang out of bed and strode down the hall with power that sent the message “don’t mess with me”.

   In the Savanaclaw lounge you were seated next to the decorative pool, chatting amidly with a fellow student. Leona glared and growled when he spotted you, far too close to the other man for his liking. He watched in anger, as the student slid even closer to you so that your hips touched briefly.

   Rage flashed in Leona’s eyes and his expression darkened into something dangerous. He stalked over behind you and the student, who seemingly didn’t notice his presence and hastily picked you up before throwing you over his shoulder. 

   “Hey! Put me down!” you cried out and he snarled at you. “Quiet, herbivore!” Recognizing your boyfriend's voice you stilled and relaxed a bit. At least it wasn’t some stranger. 

   He mentally gave you points for fighting back when you didn’t know who it was. “That’s right, only I get to touch you.”

   Looking down at the student who had been sitting with you, he noticed your homework was on his lap and realized he had just been helping you. He growled and turned walking away, a bit upset that he didn’t have a good reason to turn them to dust. Not that he needed one, but he couldn’t imagine upsetting you by harming one of your classmates, no matter how much he wanted to.

   Soon he reached his room and threw you on the bed. You landed with a gasp and looked up at him in confusion and slight annoyance. “Leona! What was that-MPH!”

   He silenced you quickly by shoving you down on the bed and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Immediately your body relaxed underneath him and he smirked when you brought your hands up to weave into his hair. 

   Only he got to touch you like this. Only he got to kiss you. Only he got to say that you were his. His and his alone! 

   You panted when he pulled back and started to ask why but he kissed you again so you couldn’t. “Jealous. Protective. Possessive. Mine” He said between kisses and soon trailed them along your jaw and down to your neck.

   A breathy moan slipped from your lips as he sucked on the sensitive skin near your collar. He kissed up until he was right over the junction between your neck and shoulders. Then he bit down hard, drawing a loud cry from you. 

   The taste of your blood only just barely appeared before he pulled back and began to kiss the wound. He knew that licking it would irritate it further due to his cat-like tongue, but he still attempted to soothe it as much as possible.

   Finally he pulled back completely and gazed down at you with a smirk. Several different bruises and love bites littered your neck, shoulders, and collar. Only one had been deep enough to break the skin. It would scar he was sure and the thought of you always wearing a symbol of his claim made him purr.

   He stopped though when he realized he could have hurt you. “I’m sorry. Princess, I didn’t mean to get so upset, it’s just instincts.” he sighed. 

   You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t worry. I find it super sexy when you get possessive.” His eyes widened in surprise and he took in your mild blush. “Hmmm…” he purred with a smirk. “Well in that case you don’t mind if I mark you up a bit more… and while I’m at it you can use that pretty voice of yours to remind the whole dorm that you’re mine and mine alone!”

   Jamil gritted his teeth and turned away from the lounge. He made his way to the kitchen and immediately began to prepare more horderves. Kalim’s party was going wonderfully, of course all due to his hard work. Although he supposed he appreciated a week's notice and Kalim did help magically with some of the decorations.

    He was still stressed, but not quite as much as he could have been, had Kalim not given him a warning. In fact he was looking forward to actually trying to enjoy one of Kalim’s parties for the first time since he was born. 

   It was a very nice party and since everything was going smoothly, Jamil found time to sit down and sip some juice. Alcohol wasn’t allowed on school premises but grape juice mimicked the taste nicely depending on what brand you bought. Kalim was partial to the sweeter stuff, while Jamil preferred it to be more sour.

   However, he found that the sour taste in his mouth wasn’t from the juice at all when he spotted you dancing joyously with some other student. His smile fell into a frown and he watched angrily as the student pulled you close and said something that made you laugh.

   You had a beautiful laugh, it was the kind that made everyone in the room sigh in content when they heard it. Jamil fell in love with it almost as hard as he had fallen in love with you. Especially because you rarely laughed for anyone but him.

   To hear you generously sharing that sound with some nobody sent flashes of anger through him.  He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms a bit. Just remembering it made him pissed.

   Shaking his head to clear it, Jamil got to work cutting up some more vegetables at a fast speed that would intimidate anyone who tried to approach him. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone so he glared darkly at the food in front of him in an attempt to send off silent go away signals.

   Kalim, who entered the room to find Jamil after seeing him storm off, caught sight of the frustrated man and paused to observe his body language. Ever since Jamil’s overblot, Kalim had been trying to read his friend's emotions better. Luckily he caught on quickly and left the room.

    Jamil sighed in relief and set the knife down. Why the hell would you wanna hang out with anyone but him! You were his and his alone! The only thing he had claim over, or ownership of. Mentally he berated himself for thinking that way. You weren’t an object, you were a person and you should be allowed to do whatever you want. He would be a hypocrite if he tried to restrict your choices and behaviors.

   “Jamil?” The man spun around and found you standing behind him with a concerned look on your face. “Kalim told me you looked upset, is everything alright?” Your tone was soft and worried. It eased Jamil’s emotions in the way it always had. You always put him first, a habit he both loved and hated. On one hand he adored being pampered for once, on the other he knew what it was like to ignore your own wants and needs for another person.

   He sighed and put on a smile, taking your hands in his own. “Just tired that’s all.” you frowned and glared up at him in the way you always did when he lied.

   “Now, I know that’s not true. I’m not gonna force you to tell me, but I also want you to know that you can be honest with me. That’s why I’m here.” Jamil bit his lip and turned away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

   “The truth…” he hesitated. “The truth is I don’t want you hanging out with that other student!” The sudden exclamation took you aback and you blinked in surprise. “I don’t want to control you or tell you what to do and who to hang out with, but I also want you all to myself. No one else should be able to touch you or whisper in your ears, or dance with you, or make you laugh and smile. That’s my job, because your mine, not theirs!”

   At this point you were blushing as well, but noticed he was beginning to get upset. “And I’m so sorry for saying that like you’re some object, cause you’re not. You’re a person who deserved to make their own choices and decisions, but goddamnit I can’t help wanting you all to myself. You’re- you’re…” he paused and looked at you. “You’re special… to me. I don’t want anyone taking you away from me. I know i’m being a hypocrite but don’t go back out there. Stay here and be mine-”

   Jamil was cut off by you kissing him passionately on the lips. His eyes widened before they fell closed and he snaked his arms around your waist, tugging you flush against him with a growl. 

   His tongue swiped at your lips and you parted them obediently. He smirked and chuckled lowly before slipping it into your mouth. “Good girl.” You moaned through the kiss and felt your knees weaken. He pulled you around and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck where he simultaneously worshipped and abused your skin.

   Love bites and dark bruises displayed his rough treatment, but the sighs that fell from your lips told him that you were enjoying it greatly. Silently he pulled back to observe his handiwork and smirked at the amount of marks he had left behind. Some would be easy to hide, whereas others he had left strategically in places that would be impossible to cover up. He felt a little guilty, knowing that you would be slightly upset later for making it so hard to hide the fact that he had been kissing you, but seeing something almost like a name tag, or a brand, that signified you were his and his alone, stirred something in him and he was tempted to never let you leave his sight without a mark warning people off about advancing on you.

   “Jamil…” you spoke shakily. He looked at you and how wrecked you were just from some kisses and his gaze darkened with lust. His tongue licked his lips subconsciously and he watched you shiver in reaction. “I have something important to tell you…”

   He raised an eyebrow and moved his head to the other side of your neck, placing kisses and marks there as well. It made it very hard to think so you momentarily pushed him away, making him growl in displeasure. “Don’t feel bad about being possessive over me, okay? Because when you are…” you hesitated, “it’s really freaking hot.”

   His eyes widened and an almost evil smile drew up on his lips. “That so… well, then I guess you don’t mind me leaving a few more marks over here,” he licked a stripe up your neck drawing a gasp from you, “to show the whole world that you belong to me!” He snarled it out before biting lightly at your skin and relishing in the way you tilted your head to the side with a moan. Yeah, he could get used to you hanging out with other boys so long as he got to do this to you before and after.

[rcksmith]

Felling — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Hi love could you maybe do #38 from the fluff prompts for Five where maybe Five is struggling with accepting the reader trying to be like romantic or affectionate with him !!! Thank you I love you !!!!”

Fluff Prompts:

38. “You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I loved this request so much! I found it so cute and adorable!! ❤️ I hope it got close to what you wanted. I love you❤️

Here I used some fragments of Five's original chronology because it would help with the plot, but guys, keep in mind, please, that he is a 20 or more.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Just bad words, it is very fluff.

— — — — — —

The Hargreeves were a family full of wounds, trauma and deep-seated fears. They were trained to be super heroes. Strong, courageous, centered, perfect. And that was why no emotion could be on the way to that goal. Feeling love, passion, affection and affection was the gateway to becoming vulnerable. And a superhero couldn't be vulnerable. So they were denied that their whole lives.

Within each one pulsed a different problem, a different trauma. Denying love to a child only made him develop complications to connect with his emotions, feel empathy and be able to deal with different contrasts in a healthy way.

The Hargreeves brothers' lives were not easy, but some of them found, in the beginning, a way to connect with different types of love; Luther and Alissom for each other, Diego for the maternal love, Klaus and Ben in the partnership and complicity for each other. Vayna found her way in love for her brothers when her biggest internal problems were resolved.

But Five... well, Five was alone in the abyss of the apocalypse.

He did not have a chance to mature his feelings, deal with his psychological and transform the various traumas into something productive and healthy. Then, in the midst of loneliness, devastation and chaos, Five just threw his feelings under the rug until, like his childhood brothers, they stopped harassing him.

As they never had the opportunity to mature, those sensations remained on a primitive level. And his complications to bond with his emotions became even more broken when Five had to kill for the Commission.

Facing death and being the author of such devastation was not a mild endeavor. The smell of death was still in the air if Five stopped to concentrate on breathing, and the murder scenes were still fresh in his mind when he slept. But, just as Five did with any feeling, he just pushed them under the rug once again.

He didn't want to deal with them. They brought, for Five, pains, fears, weaknesses and a constant reminder that, perhaps, he... had failed in many things. And Five hated seeing himself as a failure.

And that was when he came home. And even when the waters have calmed down, when the winter breeze gently touched his face, when he can rest, dealing with feelings was something he still repudiated.

But that's when Five met you, and his whole world was turned upside down. When you first looked into his eyes, fierce, warm heat swept through Five's body, from the top of his head to his toes. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Five thought it was just a second of madness, in which his system had given a blue screen for something else, not for you. But as soon as you smiled at him, there was a quick feeling of being stabbed near the diaphragm or in the belly. His composure didn't waver an inch, but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The situation took on unimaginable proportions. You are going the Hargreeves mansion a lot times , since, what has been said, you were friends with the brothers, and Five lived lost in an agitated sea of ​​exasperating feelings whenever he was near you.

You were brilliant as the sun, smiling as happiness, beautiful as masterpieces and stunning as the evening. You were the personification of…Perfection, was the Five thought at the time. And it almost broke his heart, because he could never have you for himself.

Five couldn't because, as much as he refused to admit it, wouldn't know how. He couldn't because the whirlwind of emotions was a fierce scream that caused a stir in his mind. Five looked at you and saw a masterpiece - sublime and human art at the same time - and he didn't know how to name those emotions. And now, unexpectedly trapped by the intensity, Five was unable to reason properly when he was close to you.

All he could see was an excessively beautiful girl who was standing in front of him as something he wanted very much. And if you understood the state Five was in whenever you talked to him, you would have stopped at the first sentence. No, if you really understood, you would end up running as fast as you could. But you could not understand what Five did not understand.

So he preferred the loneliness of the apocalypse to those emotions that made him feel hot and cold at the same time, which seemed like his stomach was filling with birds, all beating their wings and trying to escape, and then his hands started to shake.

Five didn't know what it was all about, a mixture of emotions; attraction, passion, an overwhelming desire to touch you. But even if he knew how to name it all, he wouldn't know how to act. Five was a genius, he could solve the biggest equations about space and time with his eyes closed, but as a lover, however, he put his feet in his hands.

Five never thought of the most tender emotions without coldness and objectivity, they were great to justify the actions of human beings. But you have revoked absolutely everything.

Over time, it started to hurt physically in Five not to touch you, not to succumb to the most overwhelming wills. And then, one night he took refuge in a bottle of vodka, you walked in the door and it was the end for Five. He got up from the bar, came to you in determined and firm steps, and, sending everything to hell, held your face in his hands and kissed you as if he wanted to do this for a lifetime. Maybe more.

You were the opposite of Five. It was as if you were the heat and he was the ice, day and night. You burned like summer heat and Five burned like winter cold. You were everything Five was not: extroverted, agitated, knew how to deal with emotions very well, you were passionate, caring, loving, you loved physical contact. So when you returned the kiss, Five felt himself burning with your warm touch.

You wrapped your fingers around the black strands on the back of his neck, letting him put your bodies together and the kiss started to heat up. And then you said:

“You're beautiful.”

And that's where Five fell in love with you. He fell in love because when you took a breath and looked into his eyes when you said that, he felt like you could see the depths of his soul, all the secrets, all the sins, all the fears. You knew him, deeply.

Five was no longer able to stay away from you after this event. He always chose your side at a table, he was very less acid in conversation whit you were. And when you two played chess, and he let you win on purpose just to see your happy smile and your eyes shining, he knew was in trouble.

While Five tried to deal with so many new emotions and so many traumas, you were the opposite. You have been in love with him for so long, even when you saw his painting on top of the fireplace, you felt something different. So when you two kissed, came closer, you let your feelings out.

You were a loving person by nature, you loved hugging people, physical contact. You were an incorrigible romantic and, to be honest, you loved being like that. You loved feeling too much.

So with Five it was no different. You liked holding hands, hugs, more tender kisses and also quick hello kisses or bye. You loved touching physically, either way. But being like that taught you that many people didn't taste the same as you. And in the case of the Hargreeves, so broken and lost, dealing with feelings was not easy, especially to express it physically.

But with Five it was… more difficult.

He was very reserved, controlled, closed. You felt perfectly when he went rigid whenever you touched him: any affection on the arm, kiss on the cheek when you had to go to college, hugs.

You started to think that maybe he didn't like you that much or didn't want something serious, but Five was always looking for you. Whether showing up at your apartment, in your room, or going to be near you at the mansion or kissing you. So you ended up realizing that he just didn't handle feelings well.

It was very cold that night, you were in your room with the books and college notebooks on the bed, trying to solve some calculus equations, otherwise you would end up repeating in that subject. Your head was already pounding and you were getting frustrated, it was definitely not for you and your desire was to hit your head on the book and give up.

“What a nightmare.” You mumbled.

“What a nightmare?”

The voice at your side made you scream out in fright, turning to the left and seeing Five standing on the edge of your bed. The distilled moonlight came in through your open window and bathed the man in front of him with a builder in his black hair and alabaster skin, you held your breath, Five was always so beautiful that he should be considered a crime.

His hands were in the pockets of his dark pants, followed by the shirt and blazer from the Academy uniform. Five looked at you with a small condescending smile in the corner of your mouth, and you felt your heart pounding.

“Ah, it's just a college subject.” You sighed, looking at the notebooks in front of you “It's a nightmare.”

Then Five leaned forward, looking closely at your notes.

“You know where you went wrong, don't you?”

You jaw dropped, and you turned to the notebooks with your calculations. That was the only exercise that you thought was correct.

You felt frustration rising from your feet to your head, snaking through your body. You snorted, running your hand through your hair, it had been hours since you tried to understand that misfortune.

“I will never graduate, that's it. I accept the defeat of the God of mathematics.” You grunted, leaving the pencil on top of the books, giving up.

Five laughed softly, sitting beside your bed, still far enough away not to touch you.

“Give me the pencil.” He pointed to the object and you handed it over.

You frowned when Five pulled your notes to him, balanced the pencil in your other hand and redo your calculations at the end of the sheet.

You should have paid attention to what Five was doing, at each step, but the truth was that you got lost looking at him. The winter breeze shook his black strands as if they were a cloth from the night sky, his emerald green eyes were focused, and a slight crease on his forehead indicated that he was concentrating.

Your heart raced, the world seemed to stop breathing and the air took on a caustic and magical intonation. You would show all your shadows if Five showed his, you would do anything to show how sublime he was.

Then Five looked up at you, and the hemisphere seemed to make sense that second. So you leaned over and kissed him. You kissed because there was no cell in you that didn't want to kiss him. Because Five was a young god and you were just a mortal surrendered to his charms.

But you felt his muscles go rigid, the spontaneous physical contact catching him off guard.

Five burned in contradictions. It burned in the hot fire of passion and burned in the icy heat of feelings. Your touch was potent and had an overwhelming effect on Five.

He wondered what would happen if he had sex with you at that moment. Would he burn in your heat or would he be consumed by troubled emotions? Would he feel every part of your body pulse or would he lose himself in the confusion of his own mind?

Five gently parted his lips, still close enough for his breath to hit your lips.

“I feel your tension. Everything is fine.” You commented quietly.

Five just breathed, his eyes confirming to you what his words didn't say.

“I'm sorry for everything you've been through.” You were sincere, and cautiously put your hand under his. “But you have to understand that it’s normal and good to feel emotions. It's okay not to understand them. Feelings are not like math.”

Five felt your touch become more present, and you gently approach. He should have said something, but his body started to contradict his mind and he got lost in a blue shambles. He desperately wanted you. Wanted to fuck you until feel you completely and kiss you until taste love. But he also wanted to get away. He wanted to go away and push all those feelings and emotions under the rug.

But when you sat closer to him, and your hands cupped his face, Five realized he couldn't leave.

“How would you react if I did that..”

Then he noticed your mischievous smile, and before he could say anything, you held him more firmly, and filled any part of his face with kisses that you could reach.

You laughed between Five's kisses and protests. But you only stopped after the twentieth kiss. Five was marked with your lipstick, his eyes closed for you, his face in a warning expression.

“Y/N!” He grunted, wiping his face “Are you crazy?”

But his cheeks were red and you could feel his temperature high from where you were.

You laughed louder, settling on the bed.

“.You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.” You pointed at his cheeks, waved your index finger between them, signaling.

Five frowned even more, trying to wipe the lipstick marks off his face. But slowly, a little smile was struggling to come to his face.

“You are smiling!”

“You are so childish!” he rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft.

“You love Me!” Then you threw yourself at him again, kissing his face where the marks had been cleaned.

Five grunted, but ended up just resting his hands on your waist, feeling ... relaxing.

When you stopped laughing and looked at him, Five held his gaze. Gently, his right hand went to your face, removing a lock of your hair from your eyes.

“I think you're right.”

His voice was low, like a summer breeze, and yours eyes lit up when you understood the meaning of what he was talking about. But Five didn't give you time to answer, he leaned over and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

You love him too.

[senjuside]

“Uchiha Izuna,” it—he rasps dryly, face cold as marble. “Good morning. Would you tell me why your brother keeps throwing gifts in my face everytime we meet?”

Looking at the sides of his futon with the sudden realization that Tobira isn’t letting him goes anywhere, with the heavy body almost smashing him in the mattress, Izuna thinks about how he should tell a fucking siren that his absolute insane brother is trying to propose in a very, very archaic way.

Giving a trembling, wry smile at the thing, Izuna shivers heavily when the siren smiles back, with too many sharp teeths to be peaceful or friendly in any way.

And they’ve the audacity to tell Izuna was the one who hadn’t any survival instinct remaining.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara

Rating: T

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 2734

Written for @madatobiweek, Week 1: Folklore and mythology // The moment I knew. Read on AO3 or under the cut :)

(my bad for any mistake or something guys. english, as you'll see, isn't my first language :p good reading, anyway <3)

Madara had never been a usual lover—always all sharp barbs and rough language used as a comfortable shield to hide the soft gazes he’d give Tobirama—even if, Tobirama supposes, they’ve never been a usual couple either.

Madara is a peculiar creature, Tobirama knows. He’s harsh to deal with, hurdle, and for onces paranoid. But, Tobirama thinks with a nearly fond, in love smile, he would’ve his moments as well.

Like his apparently newly gained obsession with gifts.

It was quite cute from the very first time. A weighty book written in the old language of the dwarfs, that lived in the south. An anklet of silver, and a ring of amestice. Even a couple of heavy fur collars, soft that hurted at the touch, smelling distinguly like Madara.

All the gifts are carefully bestowed inside of his cave, in a safe bubble of air to not screw up with nothing. Was a really sweet action of such a rough man like Madara, rude like Tobirama is pretty aware he usually is, so Tobirama wouldn’t like to waste those kinda rare openly ways to show affection.

Unlike the dragons, sirens like Tobirama in general don't really give a matter to the thing’s price, gold or diamond—even if Tobirama is pretty sure that sirens do not usually get gifts from pleasure. They’re usually too busy with the ‘charming pretty sallys underwater and so devour’-thing to make good first impressions or build relationships.

But, Tobirama supposes, everything certainly has a limit.

And now Madara is nearly to overtake it. Hard.

“FOR YOU,” Madara yells, even if he's one step away from Tobirama, sitting poorly in the river’s muddy margens.

Tobirama blinks at him, wordlessly for a second, but Madara doesn’t offer anything more but turns into his back and runs away, giving Tobirama no chance to thank or say a word.

For the fifty time, just this week.

It’s starting to turn… cansative, Tobirama ponders, looking carefully at the golden mirror in his hands.

Pursing his lips down, Tobirama honestly thinks that this shit is elongating itself for a way more than it would be necessary.

If Madara isn’t going to get his head out of his ass, Tobirama may have some questions to ask the Uchiha.

———————

A drop of water falls down to rest on Izuna’s cheek, followed by another, and another. Izuna struggles himself over asleep, frowning.

Another drop falls through his jaw, to dive inside his open sleep-yakuta, cold as hell, making Izuna quivers hard and wake up suddenly, shaking, just to blink open his eyes, his vision cloudy by the sleepness, and get himself face to face with—all Izuna’s words — a sharp feature elevated above him, pale as a paper with devilish red eyes, imobile, gazing at him deeply.

The only thing that hinders Izuna to scream for help is the creature’s hand put against his mouth. The room still was shadowish by the close fusumas, and a thick trail of water left spots on the tatames. Not daring to look away, Izuna inbreate sharply, wide-eyed looking at the impassive face of the thing above him.

A vision that, for Izuna’s total and absolute terror, slowly starts to remind him disturbingly of some of Madara's descriptions.

And, although Izuna knew Madara has a lover outside the clan—and probably any person that could hear or read lips in the Uchiha did notice Madara being insupportable and repugnantly sweet when he was singing praises at his dearest Tobira— he could never expect a fucking siren just out of Izuna’s wrostes nightmares.

“Uchiha Izuna,” it—he rasps dryly, face cold as marble. “Good morning. Would you tell me why your brother keeps throwing gifts in my face everytime we meet?”

Izuna shallows hardly, repentinaly regretting deeply having fought with Madara to sleep for one more hour instead of attending the clan’s reunion this morning. Looking at the sides of his futon with the sudden realization that Tobira isn’t letting him goes anywhere, with the heavy body almost smashing him in the mattress, Izuna thinks about how he should tell a fucking siren that his absolute insane brother is trying to propose in a very, very archaic way.

Giving a trembling, wry smile at the thing, Izuna shivers heavily when the siren smiles back, with too many sharp teeths to be peaceful or friendly in any way.

And they’ve the audacity to tell Izuna was the one who hadn’t any survival instinct remaining.

———————

Dragons are such beautiful, sweet and possessive creatures, Tobirama learned with the time. Differently from his specie, for onces cold and kinda cruel, hovering in deep, cold waters, so deep that even the light couldn’t come in there sometimes, the dragons aren’t any different from the fire they could spit out.

Their love would burn, deep and beautiful, as blaze fierling all along the night.

Tobirama is a child from the sea; his love isn’t scorching as the dragon’s love is but silent and peaceful like a quiet summer night browsing in calm sea, at the same it is furious and instotable like the worst of the storms. It is measureless as is the ocean, for sure hurdle, for times, but never flawed.

Dragons are explosive as the fire that growls into their veins. They’re imediatalist, and they trust deeply or simply do not. There’s no middle term in love, in family. You’re theirs, or isn’t.

They’re explosions of emotions, stars collapsing in supernovas—all the opposite of Tobirama, cold and racionable when the situation needs, treacherous in confidence, never trusting in no one but himself, despite using it to climb at his objectives, and there’s no shame in admit that: he’s what he’s and wouldn’t change for nobody.

Tobirama knows he’s hard to deal with, but, if there’s a single resemblance between sirens and dragons, when you’re into his heart, you’re there forever—because the tide may change, but the trail will be always there for thoses who venture to travel and conquist. And when Madara stole that kiss from him, Tobirama allowed him to stay, for forever, if he wanted to. He was from Madara from body and soul since that time when Madara’s fingers nuzzled down his scales.

Tobirama chuckles softly to himself, nestling the pearl necklace Madara had given him this week against his chest. He’s just Madara's, but it seems like his koibito doesn’t notice this yet.

Little fool.

———————

“You were building a treasure for me.”

It is the first thing Tobirama says, his voice dry as usual while he points out, when Madara comes into his field of vision.

Naturally, Tobirama knew of the dragon’s tendencies to accumulate, of course. He may have spent half a life peeking around deep waters, but he’s not oblivious. Even Madara already had prided himself for Tobirama after he stole—”found around the battlefield, I ain’t a thief, siren of hell”— a sword or a helmet he considered good enough to be on his particular treasure.

He never thought, however, that this would extend to their partners.

Madara seems to freeze in half a way, a few steps from where he meets Tobirama almost every night. His heavy cloak rock softly with the wind, the stiff scale next to the horns in the temples fading out with the creamy skin the moonlight's light—light that doesn't do anything to hide Madara's soft flush when he stops throughout the trail to the river’s margers, looking anything but absolutely cute.

Who’d say that this ugly mug may be so adorable, Tobirama scoffs mentally, playful, as he perceives Madara starts to look more and more ashamed. So different from the pride warrior he had seen Madara transformed himself amidst the battlefield more than one time, tearing apart flesh with his claws as he'd cutting raw silk.

Tobirama smiles softly, although he’s been pretty aware that his sharp, long teeths probably doesn't seem like an amorous expression at all. "Stop get stood here like a idiot and come here, stupid," Tobirama scoffs gentily.

Madara's eyes narrow thighly, the narrow slits brighting in the night with a soft red glow, but does, taking a step in to sit in the river's margers

Tobirama pushes his body up to rest his head next to Madara's lap.

“You made quite a mess, you know that?” Tobirama said softly. “Your brother seemed to be absolutely terrified when he saw me.”

Madara frowns, widening his eyes a bit.  “Did you go see Izuna?”

“Any problem?” Tobirama asks dryly, arching a cheeky eyebrow. “I was getting tired of having my partner throwing things at me and so turning away to run off, you know.”

Madara grimaces, poking Tobirama’s forehead softly. “Peace, siren of mine. I was just asking.”

Tobirama huffs, as the pride creature Madara knows he’s, narrowing his eyes before getting started again, “he didn’t help, though. I suppose he was too afraid of me eating him alive or something to mutter more than a couple of words without passing out.”

Madara cannot help but laugh. “Sounds like him. And explains why he was looking like a crazy man to the koi pond when I went off.”

“Of the couple of things he could make minimally undestable, I discovered some interesting things,” Tobirama continues dryly, but there’s a background of palpable diversion in his voice. “He said something about ‘absolutely insane relatives’—” Madara turns his eyes there, “—‘stupid courtship’ and I’m pretty sure he did yell a think alike ‘engagement.’”

Madara suddenly curses mentaly his pale skin when his cheeks sembles to catch on fire again, as well the always trained eyes of Tobirama, shining like two rubies in the damp, his gaze burning in his face, watchful at all his little reactions. Huffing to get away his sudden embarrassment, Madara grumbles grumply, “and you connect the dots. Of course you did, fuckin’ genius son of a bitch.”

Tobirama smiles, a simple contraction on the edge of his lips. “Naturally,” he brags himself, the insupportable. “I’d appreciate a contribution of yours, throught.”

Madara grimaces, but doesn’t take a word against him. Cleaning his throat with a soft disgust contraction on his lips, he gets started, “... yes, it’s kind of an engagement, but more like… a proposal. You know that every dragon has a collection of something, right? I collect bright, mortal things. Such as weapons,” Madara explains calmy, but he’s feeling anxious, Tobirama can say by the way he keeps his gaze trained in his hands, an adorable soft flush covering his pale cheeks. “Therefore, when we’ve got interest in someone, it was usual for the dragon to give his interest with gifts to add to their treasure. That’s why I wanted to give you something that would… fit with you. Not just. Trinket."

“I supposed it would be something like that,” Tobirama sings, smiling. “So, I should return your gifts, shouldn’t I?”

Madara whips up himself, stumbling around the words, “I-I mean, if you’d accept the courtship—”

Tobirama laughed. “Oh, you’re such a fool sometimes, my love.” Madara opens his mouth to hash out wrathful, but Tobirama keeps speaking before Madara can have the chance for saying anything, “of course I’d, Madara. If a siren matches, they’d match for a life. There’s no dating. You’re mine and I've been yours since the day I accepted you inside my home.”

Madara blinks. He breathes, “oh.”

Tobirama scoffs before he could hold himself, “oh, fuckin’ jerk.”

Madara squawks aloud, opening his mouth to fuss, but Tobirama just chunkles, getting on his elbows to stand up and press their lips softly.

“I hate you,” Madara murmurs against Tobirama’s mouth a second later, just to make his point.

One of Tobirama’s teeth nips on Madara’s lip lightly, not enough to hurt or to take off blood, but teasing. Feeling playful, Tobirama gently pushes down a handful of Madara’s hair to make him curve next to him, easing the angle for Tobirama to lick inside Madara’s mouth. “I hate you too, sweetheart,” he scoffs, “no worries.”

Madara turns his eyes, sighing when he presses their foreheads together. “Shitty idiot. I was trying to be romantic, y’know.”

Tobirama arches an eyebrow. “I highly doubt you were romantic for a second of your entire life.”

Madara seems to be offended, bristiling like an urchin. “I’m very romantic, thank you! And thinking I did an entire courtship plan to you bawl me out like that…”

Smiling easily, Tobirama nudges softly, “did you, so?”

Madara flusters himself with a petty whiff, getting started grumply, “I mean, it’s a little anquite, but… I wanted to show you that, mm-I mean, like the tradition says. That you aren’t something I’m taking ownership of, but that I am sharing my treasure with you, and what’s mine is yours.”

“That’s,” Tobirama says a couple of moments later, blinking a bit of surprise, but with his voice repugnantly soft and gentle, “especially sweet of you. Thank you, Madara.”

Madara huffs. “Don’t mention it.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes, playfully poking Madara’s tight with sharp teeth. “Don’t be so smug about it.”

Madara arches an eyebrow. “Hope you haven’t forgotten I am an Uchiha. It’s in my blood.”

“Stupidness?” Tobirama asks dryly.

“No. We do like to exhibe our things. Especially those mortal and beautiful. Or just the ones that bite.”

Tobirama’s face covers quickly with red. He grumbles, pouting sulky, “shut the fucking up, Uchiha. That’s the only thing your pea-sized brain can think about?”

“When I’ve a willing, beautiful siren only for me?” Madara smirks. “Absolutely.”

Preening a hand across the soft, sleek scales where it united together with the almost phantasmagoric white skin from Tobirama’s belly, by where it is out of the water, resting in the mud next to one of Madara’s legs, Madara hums happily. “Sirens don't have some type of honeymoon?” he asks serenely.

Tobirama chuckles. “I think they’d.”

“I suppose I’ve to celebrate with my pretty fiancé.” Madara shudders. “Haven’t I?”

“I’m sure you’ve,” Tobirama replies easily, spreading out his arms to deliberately offer Madara a better vision of his chest, letting the way down his belly free, easy for Madara to slip with his hand. Arching an eyebrow, Tobirama asks, “shy now, Madara?”

Madara scoffs aloud. “Nothing I haven’t seen yet, bastard.”

“Tired already of, so?”

“Never.” Madara’s quick to ensure. “You’re always a show aside. And I’d suppose we'll have to consummate. Again. Dragon style.”

Tobirama cannot help but laugh. “Why are you always a shitty mood killer? Better—why do I accept getting engaged with you, from all the people?”

Giggling, Madara noses Tobirama’s jaw absently. “Because you love me, clearly.”

Tobirama does, of course—but it wasn't like he’s going to say it and inflame Madara’s ego more than it already is.

Instead, Tobirama just moans softly when Madara scrapes his blunt teeth in his neck, huffing a blow of heated air against the bruise he certainly left.

Greedy, his lover is, and Tobirama doesn’t do anything to appease that when Madara growls softly some verbal affirmation of that but smiles, his teeth scraping dangerously Madara’s pants, sucking a bruise next to his hips.

Tobirama’s smile is all teeth. “Cute of you to think dragon’s are the only ones with possessive tendencies here.”

———————

“There’s a motherfucker demon living on your koi pond, Madara! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“The demon surely has a name,” Tobirama rumbles, thicc and sharp, a dark playfulness trickling on his tone, from where he’s upholding his head on his hands, above the engawa, arching an eyebrow to Izuna as he smiles, all teeth.

“Madara!” Izuna cries out. “He’ll pull my feet when you’re asleep and so drown me! Look at him!”

Tobirama hums, without any shame, and, perhaps propositaly, arches his upper lip a bit to show his teeth better, as he’d growling.

“He’s learning how to smile,” Madara grumbles at him, blind by passion. Or charmed, Izuna thinks, narrowing his eyes to the thing, floating in the koi pond, looking absolutely suspiciously serene. “And Tobirama will be perfectly fine. He’ll not drown you or anyone. Stop being rude with my bride, Izuna! Where’s your manners?”

While Madara keeps talking around and complaining about Izuna, Tobirama arches a sharp eyebrow at him. “Easy now, Izuna. I’m living here, and I’d hate to eat my brother-in-law accidentally.”

Whimpering, Izuna would like to know where he could sign up to change from his family, thank you so much.

[swordofpevensie]

Random Peter Pevensie Headcanons

warnings: peter x you (i'm trying to say these include love), england!peter, fluff.

a/n: omg i haven't written anything for so long. i miss my baby, so there are some headcanons for you. hope you like them! gifs are mine, they are from the movie the little mermaid (2018). he looks fine. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

• Tease, tease, tease. Peter likes to tease you and watch your reaction. He doesn't do extra things to tease you though. He just reads your favorite book on purpose and makes sure that you see him reading it, or he wears the shirt you like, again making sure you see him. If you mentioned your favorite colour is green, then he'll probably wear something green and will make sure that you notice him. He likes showing that he is interested in you and thinks it is the best way to let you know he listens to you and cares everything you say.

• He is the big spoon. But sometimes, if he feels really bad, he lets you hug him. You two just lay down there and even if you don't say anything, he feels better in time. Your existence, slow heartbeats, silent breaths, fingers caressing his hair; they are enough to make him feel good again.

• He has this habit of always checking how you feel, what you do, if you are comfortable. He casually asks if you dried your hair, took your jacket, locked the door before leaving your house, or brought your book. You generally like it but sometimes when you feel overwhelmed, you tell him stop worrying because you can take care of yourself. He says he won't ask again but he can't help it. He sometimes blushes after realizing he did it again, but you can't be angry at him anymore, because he is so cute.

• His favorite date activity is taking you to drive-in theathers. He enjoys watching movies, he feels like he leaves reality. And watching movies with you in his car that he absolutely adores? It is perfect. His hand is on your shoulder most of the time. He kisses your cheek randomly. And he forgets about the movie when you react with your body language while watching. He likes watching your facial expressions changing in a second according to the incidents in the movie. He ends up looking at you, with a soft smile on his face. Sometimes you see his eyes on you, you look at him. You say “What?” while frowning. He shrugs his shoulders and says “Nothing.” If you ask again, he puts his fingers to your chin and makes you turn your head to the screen. “We are here to enjoy the movie, sweetheart.” He says, then kisses your cheek. You let it go, really. It can be hard to keep up with him.

• Because he is an energetic person. You never understand how he can be so lively and quick. He doesn't like sitting. He must do something. He keeps learning new physcial things to spend time. He works in the neighbours' gardens on his free times. Or one day you find him in the harbour, helping the sailors carry whatever they've brought. He has a widowed neighbour, and he helps her by babysitting her twins. He enjoys doing those things. He never complains. As long as he helps others somehow, he never complains. And you love him for that, very much. He is such a selfless, giving person that it sometimes makes you emotional and angry at the same time. You scold him, telling that he must take care of himself too. He smiles at you, says, “I have you, it's fine.”

• He doesn't take care of himself that much, yes, he is aware of that, because you are there to do it. You don't even realize what you are doing but Peter does. He knows and sees everything you do for him and he is beyond grateful. He likes it when you bring food to him and people in the harbour. He likes it when you knit tiny cardigans for the twins. He likes that you buy presents for his siblings from every new place you visit. When you iron his clothes, tidy his hair, fill his glass of water on his desk, bring him tea while he is studying, help him tie up, he melts. He loves how kind and caring you are.

• When you are at home at night, drinking something and sitting (he finally manages to sit down because no matter how hard he denies, in the end he is tired), he tells you stories. You don't know how he knows such stories or how he comes up with them, but they are magical and you enjoy listening. You feel like you leave this world, visit and explore a new universe. You like the way he tells the stories. He says, “I learned from a friend of mine, however I am never as skilled as her.” when you mention it.

• He is a good dancer. When you are invited somewhere, he attracts attention with his moves. But he is too busy with looking at you, talking with you and just holding you in his arms, so he doesn't really care, or even notice others. If you haven't seen each other before the invitation, he casually talks with you about his day. He asks you about yours too, and always listens carefully.

• After the party is over, you and he walk together in the streets, sometimes holding hands, sometimes running, or playing. Some people look at you with judgement and disapproval, meanwhile some people smile when they see you two are completely in love. When you arrive at home, your heels are on your hand, you both are breathing heavily but never stop laughing. Sometimes you do, yet when you look at each other, you start laughing again, for no reason at all.

• He always makes sure that he gets his goodbye kiss. It can be very hard to leave you and go back to home for him. He just wants to stay and spend the night with you. After many kisses he steals, he can finally leave. He walks home with a soft smile on his face. He feels ensorcelled and so in love.

[elysianightsss]

It’s Just Business - one

Werewolf Steve Rodgers x reader series

Warnings for the series: fluffness, Bucky and Sam bickering like five year olds, smutty smut, bad language.

Part two

“Buck, I can feel her here.” Steve spoke, his figure frozen as his wolf tried clawing his way out. Fighting to find it’s mate.

“The only people here are the servants.” His beta replied patting his shoulder. “She’ll reveal herself soon enough.”

“Dinner is served.” An old man dressed in a penguin suit said poshly dragging out each syllable. Everyone gathered around the table taking their seats.

The woman of the house whispered something to the older looking maid, though to everyone else except her husband, they all heard it as though she shouted it.

“Get my daughter down here.” The maid scurried off and the woman plastered a fake smile upon her face. A few moments of waiting later, a sweet scent of vanilla, old books and rain filled Steve’s nostrils.

I walked into the dining room my hair swaying behind me, my outfit was too revealing for my mother’s taste, I could see it in her eyes when I walked in, but I suppose that’s why I wore it. Just to see her pissed off expression, it gave me a giddy feeling inside. Flashing a smile to the participants of tonight’s show. I couldn’t wait to see how my parent’s had planned to brag today.

“I apologise for being late.” I spoke clearly, sitting down at the end of the table, opposite to my father who gave me a small nod. I returned the gesture. Food was placed in front of me and my stomach lurched at the fancy pancy sustenance.

“Would so kill for a burger.” I grumbled quietly, but a muffled snort had me looking at a brunette. He wore his hair in a low man bun, his blue eyes deep. His black shirt suited the dark demeanour he held. Blinking away from our locked gazes, I tuned into the shrill sound of my mother’s voice as she conversed with their wonderful benefactors.

That’s who this meal was for. My father, the Mayor, had only a small handful of people he trusted his affairs to. The three people sat at this dining table were some of them. They gave my father his protection against politisions that might try and weave their way into his office. The three men lead an organisation that I wanted to stay far away from, one that snuck inside other organisations and gained power from knowing their secrets.

The other two groups of people gave my father his money and his immunity to do whatever he wanted to people and get away with it. It wasn’t that my father was a bad man, he had just done certain things to get where he was now. Certain things that gave him his status as Mayor, that gave him his money, that gave him all the secrets that filled his pockets.

My parent’s invite their benefactors over for dinner frequently but I always avoided them, with the excuse of studying or extra curricular activities. However this one I couldn’t get out of, I didn’t think of an excuse quick enough. Was too tired that day and now I had to munch on leafy soup instead of my usual burger and fries from my favourite diner.

I took the chance to look around at the other two men. One was a man who I’d actually met before, once at my Father’s office. His name was Sam, he was kind and funny. Made the meeting we had to sit through bearable with his jokes and the gift of sharing my sarcastic language. His dark purple shirt made him look some what posh, though the bored look in his eyes could of made me laugh until my stomach hurt.

The third man was absolutely gorgeous. He was the kind of man I wanted. All rugged and lumberjack like. His dirty blonde hair slightly overgrown, but not enough to be able to tie it back like the brunette. His beard had me clenching my legs together at the thought of beard burn on my thighs. Damn. How can someone be so hot? I didn’t know it was physically possible for a shirt to stretch that much. The dark blue material was clinging to his body for dear life, trying desperately not to break as he moved his arm up and down gulping down the green soup.

It seemed he was trying to eat it quickly, almost getting it over and done with. Better than having to endure the rath of my mother for refusing her ‘finest’ chef’s qu’usine. He seemed to noticed me staring at him but ignored it. His eyes were blue, they reminded me of the ocean. There was something reassuring about it.

“Miss Alexandra,” I looked to my left to see Martha my personal maid, “there’s a very important call for you.” She could hardly contain her excitement, too loud that everyone heard what she said. I glanced towards my mother who nodded, instantly I was out of my seat practically jogging to answer the phone.

“Hello?” I spoke, cringing at the eagerness in my tone.

“Miss. Culling?”

“Yes this is she.”

“This is Townsend University calling about your application for a scholarship. We wanted to let you know personally that we are declining your application. We’re very sorry.” The woman sounded as if she could care less.

“Can I ask the reason why?” My lip quivered making me bite down on it hard.

“You simply have too much money Miss. Culling. I’m sure your parents can help you in securing a place here. Other than that we have no other way to help you, I apologise. Have a good evening.” She hung up after spouting her bitter train of thought.

My breath came out shaky matching my unsteady hand as I placed the phone down. Covering my mouth to stop any sobs from escaping.

“Oh my dear.” Martha wrapped her arms around my shoulders stroking a wrinkled hand through my straightened hair. “Maybe you should call your brother. Not the silly whipper snapper but the golden troublemaker.” She chuckled at the thought of the boys she basically raised. She was right.

“Little sister to what do I owe the honour?”

“Townsend University rejected me.” I fought the tears that wanted nothing more but to ruin the mascara I’d put on earlier this evening.

“Oh Alexandra. I’m so sorry. Did they say why?”

“Our parent’s money. Same as the others. How did you do it Bash?” My foot tapped against the hard wood floor waiting impatiently for some kind of way to fix my problem.

“Back when I was completing mother and father’s task, colleges only cared about having someone of title on their campus to get a higher status. Now all they care about is money.” He scoffed.

“I don’t have any other options left. Bash what do I do?” I begged him to tell me.

“Why don’t you come here for a few days? You can relax while I think of a plan. Get you out of that retched house.” I heard him flipping through a book and I knew it was his calendar.

“Are you sure Lara won’t mind?” I inquired after his pregnant wife.

“Never she adores you, you know that. Just get through the evening little sister and I’ll have a car come pick you up.” He hummed through the phone.

“Thankyou brother.” I hung up and took a series of deep breaths. I sighed making my way back inside the room.

“Who was it my dear?” Mother asked with a slight glare that if anyone else saw it, they’d assume it was motherly concern. I was not anyone else.

“Bash called.” I replied sitting down next to the lumberjack who’s eyes burned a whole in my head.

“Oh our eldest son, he is a delight.” My mother chirped.

“Isn’t he just.” I quipped under my breath. I loved my brother dearly but I couldn’t help but be slightly jealous of the affection he gained from both my parents when I had none.

“I’m staying there for a few days before finals start.” I smiled at her. She seemed to think it over for a moment before glancing at my father.

“I think it’s a good idea.” He shrugged and went back to whatever they were talking about before I came back in.

Soon dinner was over, it took far too long for my liking. My father and his benefactors retired to his office for a while. My mother on the phone to one of her stupid friends bitching about something I didn’t care to listen to. I just wanted this evening to be over.

“Miss, your father would like a word.” Omg did he know already? Did he find out I had failed? No! He couldn’t! He promised to stay out of it until the end of the year. Wiping my sweating hands on my jumpsuit, I knocked on the office door and went in.

My Father’s office wasn’t too big or too small. The double doors I stepped through were made from a dark wood like everything else. There were books covering every inch of the right wall and a window on the left one. In the middle was a big desk my stoic parent sat at. The three men scattered around the room. The brunette sat at the windowsill. The blonde stood leaning against the bookshelf. And Sam sat in the left of the two chairs sitting opposite my fathers desk. I took the right and waited expectantly.

“You’re going to stay with Steve here until the end of summer.” He gestured to the blonde from earlier. Steve Rodgers. That was it? That’s all my father had to stay.

“Why?” I wouldn’t usually question my father but something in me pushed to ask. I had a right to know.

“I said you’d be sent somewhere this year for your survival skills and this is it. Anything could happen at any moment. You could be kidnapped or this very house could be held hostage. I have be sure I’m not worrying about you in case that happens. I need to know that I can focus of the business side of it not emotion.” He grunted. As if he had any emotions at all.

“The end of summer...starting when?” My nails dug into my palms, I started to feel so angry. I was eighteen years old for Christ sake and he was sending me away like he did when I was a child to summer camps so he didn’t have to deal with me.

“After you come back from your brother‘s house.” Suddenly I never wanted to come back from Bash’s house.

“But that’s eight months.” I sputtered, this was ridiculous. He was sending me away for almost a year give or take a few months.

“You dare question me in my own home?” He leaned forward on his desk glaring me down. I had glared back before and had faced the consequences. Not this time.

“No father. I’ll start packing the second I’m home.” I lowered my head.

“Good. Now get out.” I didn’t need to be told twice. The moment the door closed behind me I ran to my room pulling a bag out from my closet, packing what I’d need for a few days away and leaving without a goodbye. The car was already waiting for me just as Bash had promised.

“Thank. You. Bash.” I grinned getting inside the black car and telling the driver to step on it. Thoughts plagued my mind while I gazed out the window at the big trees.

Why was I being sent away? Why so long? Why didn’t my parents love me enough to want me to stay? Was it my fathers idea? How the fuck was I going to make a plan to complete my parent’s task if I’m up in the forest? Was it the forest or mountains? Or both?

But the question I didn’t expect my mind to conjure up left me slapping my hand against my head to pushed it away.

Was I going to enjoy living with the big sexy lumberjack called Steve?

[grabthemhorns-old]

Body Language, Demon Style - Obey Me!

Just some thoughts about the boys (+Diavolo and Barbatos) when they’re relaxing in their demon form as I think about this way, way too much. Horns and tails and scales are my Absolute Jam. My time has come.

SFW version. For now :3

——–

Lucifer: You notice the more he relaxes around you, the more he touches his horns. Wary, almost. You see the chips, the scratches and dents. A thousand, thousand years that followed their Fall, full of a thousand stories. You wonder just how much blood has painted the ridges.  And the feathers. Feathers that quiver, flutter, spread, when he just sits. Reading. Thinking. Do they speak for him, when he wont?  When you’re at his side, they’re an extension of self, acting on his subconscious will to embrace you with a delicacy that maybe he feels he can’t give you, directly.  They’re surprisingly warm. A dawn’s kiss, painted black.

Mammon: There’s always one wing that he favours, the leathery span twitching back and forth with a restless leg, a tapping finger, a chattering mouth. He’s oddly quite sensitive about people touching them. You ask him why one day. He tells you he sometimes still dreams about Lucifer tearing his own wings off. After that day he takes your hand and slowly draws it along the soft, golden tipped hide, letting you touch every edge, every scar and spike. When you’re alone, he can’t get enough of your touch on his wings now, casually spreading one out across your lap as you binge watch, followed by a cheeky smile.  His horns are pierced at the tip, golden hoops twice on either side. He likes to twist them when stretching out, enjoying the melodic, clack, clack. He enjoys it more when you play with them while he stretches out onto your lap, gentle, so gentle so not to scratch you with the jagged tips.

Leviathan: You think it’s cute when he picks at the bottom tip of his horns when he’s thinking, reading, or concentrating. As a result, that tip is misshapen on that side. But you don’t ever bring it up, knowing how insecure he is. And how much you’d never change a single thing about him.  Usually tightly wound when out, about, when with you, his tail drags comfortably along the floor, relaxed; it curls up to a gentle, swaying O. There’s this thing he does when excited with his tail that you adore. It just sort of, pings up straight behind him, then slithers back down. And if you are beside him, it slithers around you, moulding against your body. A perfect fit. You wonder if it’s conscious. Again. You don’t ask, you just enjoy. Lest he realise and stop. 

Satan: Now you understand why he keeps it wrapped around his body out, about and around others. It’s so expressive. Now just you both, it flicks back, forth; curling to delicate shapes you draw with your eyes; slinking around your limbs as you sit, sprawled across his lap, book in hand. The rough scales are ragged in places you notice at it slides across bare patches of skin. He apologises when you notice. But you just gently touch his tail, piecing together the scars with a kiss. It trembles under your touch.  You also start to notice, when his tail is free, that it mimics his motions. When he moves his arms, how he stands, the way he feels. But it’s always still a favourite of his to wrap the end around something. You ask why. It’s grounding. A fully connected touch, to touch. As you grow closer, that grounding becomes you. He is much more conscious to be near you with his horns, so aware of their size, and pointed tip. Kissing is still sometimes more rigid than you’d like, so aware of the fragility of your human body.  Asmodeus: Several piercings decorate his wings, and he almost chimes as he moves. Sometimes he moves so he will chime, so he will shimmer, the light catching the emeralds, rubies, the gemstones you don’t even know, studded through the thick hide.  It’s rare that he’ll fold his wings, even when relaxing with you. He wants to be seen, and the most important pair of eyes are yours.  But when you do get close, close enough to embrace while relaxing together, he tucks them away, so all that focus is just, you. It’s an odd feeling having such love for someone else in so long. It’s odd, looking up.

Beelzebub: His demon visage is probably the one that you have seen the least. You think maybe he doesn’t feel the need like the others. Running a hand across his muscles, maybe he doesn’t. But when he is in it, there’s barely a change in him.  His wings stay tucked, mostly, the light painting them in a ripple of rainbow every time he breathes, stretches, laughs. They twitch every so often, letting off a soft chirp. Does he blush when they do? You look again when it happens. Yes. Yes he does.  You start to compliment his wings more. Because they are beautiful. A cacophony of colour, that remind you of a chromatic star fall, contained to web that looked delicate enough to snap, beneath your touch. But it’s sturdy, as you find out when you see Beel stretched out on his stomach one morning on bed, eating his breakfast, wings spread wide. And you touch.  Belphegor: He’s in his demon form the most, probably. You’ve yet to ask why. Curled up, knees to chest, head down, he touches his horns a lot. Idly scratching, fingers tapping, twisting hair around the ends until it’s comically awry. You love to watch. And he knows. Some might think that his horns would get in the way of his sleep, but you soon find out that he’s grown attached to sleeping, dozing, relaxing, with them on. You watch how he curls neatly into a pillow, several dented into shape for his curved horns, and it all just, fits. One day you put one of the pillows on your shoulder. A silent encouragement. It slides to your lap.  They feel smoother than you’d thought. It’s soothing as you trace the curve they make. Around, around. Their point ends close, so close, to his face, you feel his lashes brush your fingers. He’s wide awake. His tail is often still. But when sitting together, you notice the fluffy end tap, taps on something. The sofa, his leg, your arm, your leg. It’s gentle and soft; it’s rhythmic and comforting. And soon you can’t do without. When he’s needy, clingy, he wraps his tail around your arm. Not very tightly, but you know how tight it can go. 

——————————————–

Bonus!!! 

Diavolo: You’re not even sure Lucifer can rival his presence when he’s in full demon visage. As bright, as beautiful as his smile and laughter, Diavolo shines. His wings are constantly spread, no matter who he is with or what he is doing. It’s like Lucifer’s pride has rubbed off on him. Or that you forget he’s the king here. And sometimes, he likes to let everyone know.  They echo his every gesture, his every emotion. Wide and welcoming with his arms; clawed and high in anger; rippling with his ridiculous laugh. You’ve always loved how Diavolo has spoken so loudly with more than words.  Occasionally, he’ll tap a claw against a horn. Or slide a finger along a gold trimmed edge. Is it to go - look at me; look at my power, and don’t forget who I am, above, and below. You don’t know. But you just keep looking. You smile.  It worked. Barbatos: Sometimes you used to not even notice he was there when he was. But the more you got to know him, the more you realised that’s what he wanted. Anonymity in a world where he stands beside a king. But when you see his demon visage for the first time, there’s your initial thought. Maybe it pales in comparison to the likes of Diavolo, of Lucifer, of Satan. But that night, all you could see, was Barbatos and the crown of his peculiar bat wings, unusually still and poised, even when he walked, never moving once. Delicate, but prominent. Unique, amongst a slew of power and pomp. You’re both alone, but is he really relaxed? You blink twice when you see the bone bat wings move atop his head. A gentle sway, as if a flap to stay airborne. You watch. His poise, perfect. Legs crossed, back straight, even as you’re on the 10th episode. All that’s different is your held hands.  You squeeze. The wings move again. You smile. As does he, squeezing back. 

[juminly]

Invisible String (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

Prompt #4  and #77 by @missmorosis: “Marry me. Now.” and “I can’t say her name without smiling!”

Tags: Fluff + Mutual Pining. PS: Everything in Italic is spoken in French. –♥–

As the song “Sacré Charlemagne” rang loudly in the air, you were whisked into a jolly circle with the children in the little school that Napoleon and Isaac created by the fountain, which you always seemed to forget the name. You absolutely hated using the term “poor children” as everyone referred to them so you made an effort to learn and memorize each one of their names, even if it earned you a few devilish snickers when you stuttered over a few of their names, fumbling through your misconstructed sentences.

Compared to the children, your grammar and vocabulary was absolutely atrocious and it seemed like the infamous Monsieur de Wahaha found way too much pleasure in it, you could see him biting his bottom lip, muffling his chuckle yet his shoulders gave him away before the rambunctious sound escaped him, racking through his entire body. The few swats that Napoleon had to suffer from you did not deter him from losing himself into a fit of laughter. Your expressions never failed to amuse him, his heart feeling lighter than it had ever been in his chest and the adorable pout on your lips that tempted a little too much.

Just to press his lips against yours, Napoleon would always think. Only for a moment, that’s all he wished for. To simply hold you in his arms, engulf you in his warm embrace, where you would be safe and… loved. Feel your soft plush lips and watch as your face turns to a bright shade of red that roses would envy. His thoughts always found a way to drift to you. The petite nunuche with a kind heart, a bright mind and sass that could rival Mozart’s snark.

While you attempted to decipher the words that you were singing, your botched pronunciation did not help much though, the children jumping around, pulling you forcefully into the merry atmosphere that you had absolutely no qualms to join. Fingers that were even smaller than yours wrapped tightly around your palms, squeezed them as tightly as you felt your heart clench in your chest. Even when you were so far from the place you truly called home, with Napoleon, with these children, you found another meaning to the word. How was it that even when you were in the middle of dancing and having fun, your mind was still flooded with thoughts of him? Finding absolutely any hook just to keep him in your mind, clinging to you with no chance for you to escape from them. Even if you wanted to. Was it because he was near? Was it because you felt his eyes on you? Without even looking, you could feel the intensity of his piercing gaze, thoughtful yet kind, that made your body go through a plentiful of sensations that were too many to count on your fingers. Napoleon didn’t realize that he had paused his lesson, his eyes trained on you, seeing you radiate happiness, the happiness that the little ones shared with you even when they lived in some of the most dire of circumstances. If there is anything that you have learned, it was that the smallest things that made a difference. It is the little things that truly mattered. That is a truth that the former Emperor himself has come to realize after being relieved from the responsibility of leading his country and has tasked himself in aiding those that would be the future of France. “Who taught you that song, Clement?” Napoleon called out to one of the boys that were in your circle, shaking his head incredulously and still laughing for a reason that you had still yet to uncover. You weren’t sure what Napoleon was necessarily asking but it was definitely about the song. That was the only word ‘chanson’ that you recognized in his sentence.

“All of you. Come here and form a circle. I think it’s about time that you all learn about what Charlemagne has truly done and why you should be grateful.” Chuckling to himself, he stood from the spot he was sitting in and walked towards you, leaning down so that you were both eye to eye. You didn’t know why every time he did that, it made your heart flutter, doing a bunch of those weird somersaults that kinda made you want to puke.. But not really, at the same time. Being around Napoleon made you feel a flurry of strange sensations. Thinking about him too. That was a fact. “You do realize that this song depicts how much children hold contempt for Charlemagne for inventing school? Whatever you were singing with them right now beats the whole purpose of what we are trying to do for them.” With an eyebrow cocked, Napoleon folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for a response from you yet the corner of his lips were clearly strained as he fought back a wide smile. “Wait…” You blinked at him in surprise, clearly unaware of the situation that you were put into due to the language barrier. “I… I promise I had no idea! That was definitely and totally not my intention! Oh my God…” It was a funny situation and you found yourself stuck between a state of slight panic and laughter, both emotions reflecting clearly on your visage. The last thing that you wanted was for Napoleon to be disappointed in you. You held him in such high regards, and he did so to you when it came to you, so you didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. A small laugh escaped him, his large hand reaching to ruffle your hair gently before tucking the stray strands away from your face and behind your ear. A gesture that was so simple yet that was done with so much love. Love that you were completely blind to. “This is why you’re my petite nunuche. Come sit and I’ll explain it all to you, princess.” The sly grin he gave you, one that was more like a wide smile, was much too irresistible, your own smile tracing across your blushing face. As he turned away from you and found his seat before everyone, you noticed something. You knew that look in his eyes. It was one that you knew very well, the passion brimming in them, the heart he put into teaching these childrens and sharing with them everything that he had to give. Nothing was ever too much to ask for with Napoleon. God… you couldn’t stop staring at him and you still hadn’t realized why, assuming it was just because he was a born charismatic leader who was now capturing everyone’s attention as he began a history lesson about the medieval emperor Charlemagne and all he had done for France and for the world. Whenever any discussion happened between you, he always leaned down and looked straight into your eyes, especially since you were quite shorter than him. Even when you stood next to one another, he still did the same. Not only with you but with the kids as well, crouching down so that he was on the same level as them, never making anyone feel as though they were inferior. Never looking down on anyone. He spoke to all, treated all, as his equals. No matter who they were. Your daydreams and musings aside, you tried to focus on Isaac’s voice as he spoke in your ear, recounting to you in English all of the stories that Napoleon was painting before all of your eyes. His mind being a wealth of historical knowledge, he ensnared you with his storytelling, even when you had absolutely no idea what he was saying, needing the help of your dear friend, Isaac Newton, to explain it all to you.

“I have a question, Napoleone!” One of the kids, Patrick, raised his hand excitedly and was basically hopping on his cute little butt, curiosity seemingly eating at the young boy. When Leon gave him a curt nod, Patrick giggled and asked. “Why do you call big sister, nunuche?” “Well, there’s a very simple answer to that question. I call her nunuche because she has absolutely no clue that she has stolen my heart.” He declared with a warm smile, his deep voice reflecting the same. As the conversation took a turn, Isaac clicked his tongue, grumbling something that you didn’t catch under his breath and walked away from the big circle that you had formed in the middle of the small town square. Some of the kids were giggling and others were making gag noises. Whatever Napoleon had said really changed the mood. With your eyebrows furrowed, it was a bit bizarre to see the physicist’s face suddenly turn red. Was he that irritated from the story Napoleon was telling the kids about Charlemagne? Now that Isaac was gone, you were left with no one to translate the ongoing discussion for you. Well, upon Napoleon’s instruction, whenever he was addressing the children directly and couldn’t directly translate to you, Isaac would have to step in for him and help you understand the different French expressions and words, especially the most common ones. But… what were they saying now? You did hear the word Nunuche but they were definitely not talking about you. Were they, though? Still, you didn’t want to leave, even if you were completely lost and oblivious to what was going on. You knew that Napoleon would explain it all to you later. “Does that mean that big sister is a thief?” Jacques asked. “Non, non.” He chuckled, shaking his head and sighing out his next words. “It means that I love her with all my heart.” “Is it like how I love my dog?” The little man inquired again. “I love mushrooms!” The youngest of them all, Carmen, chimed in with her own declaration. “Haha, we can all love different things. Love comes in many ways and we all feel it differently.” “How does it feel for you then, Napoleone?” Lea, who was sitting right by his side, inquired considerately, seemingly scrutinizing every word the Frenchman said. He couldn’t help but smile widely, admiring the smart glint in her eyes, the curiosity in her was nothing but meaningful and quite in place. Eyes that reminded of his beloved. You. “Well…” He pondered for a few seconds, trying to find a simple way of putting his feelings into words. “I can’t say her name without smiling.” And just the thought of it did the same, in that very moment. “And sometimes, I think that I might just walk up to her and simply ask her. “Marry me. Now.”” He admitted, the corner of his eyes crinkling a tiny bit as he announced so. God, now you really wanted to know what they were talking about. To know the reason why Napoleon looked almost… giddy in that calm authoritative way of his. “Oh! Oh! That means you want to also have kids with her!” Jacques, ever the talkative one, stated confidently. “Haha, indeed. That is something I do wish to have with her.” As he turned to look at you, you could see his smile turn wistful, the way his eyes fell upon you held so much longing, a yearning for something that may not ever be fulfilled. “I promise, I’ll tell you about everything we just said.” He reassured you with that exact same smile, masking the fleeting sadness that overcame him by clearing his throat, demanding everyone’s attention and returning back to his storytelling. He would tell you all about that conversation he had with the kids. Maybe not on that day… but what he had to say was for later, or maybe never. Luckily for him, none of the children knew how to speak English or they would have blurted out the confession that Napoleon had yet to make. –♥– A/N: Consider this as a snippet from your matchup story with your Leon. I hope you enjoy this @delicateikemenmemes and yes, the title is a Taylor Swift song reference hehe  💜 And thank you @sweetlittlemouse for beta-ing my insecure ass. Tagging: @nafeary @kisara-16 Please feel free to leave some love in the comments or some feedback!💜 You can also check out my Masterlist !