#but not impossible he'd be found eventually

[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

The emotions and glimpses of daily life of this random girl followed Lando throughout his whole. Whenever she's sad, he knows. Her celebrations sort of become his celebrations. For him, it's like breathing - just another part of his life. That is until he meets her.

soulmate au

Lando knew the moment he saw her. And it was at that point when he thought he was truly going crazy.

For his whole life, he thought it was just some fantasy that he planted in his mind in early age and was impossible to get rid off.

He froze completely. Panicked, went into fight or flight mode, these two fighting each other so hard that he just stood there, staring like a creep. Thank god she was far away enough and probably did not notice.

His second immediate reaction was anger. Did she really not notice him? The audacity? How can she roam around his brain for his whole life and then not react when she sees him? Her being in the paddock meant that she definitely knew who he was, people don't just end up by chance there.

Except maybe she did. Her outfit gave away that she was one of the medics from the medical team. Of course she would be. Saving lives, doing something proper meaningful. Not driving around in circles and making a big deal out of it, like he did. Never in his life did he feel as selfish and sort of shameful for his choice of career.

He began to insert ideas into her head, despite not having spoken a single word to her. She was probably someone who valued intelligence, people who were book smart, humble heroes in the society who were focus on dedicating their lives to saving others.

Not those who were recklessly driving around in circles. There was no way she'd see him fit to her. That was not going to stop him. Her being one of the medics provided a great opportunity. Hypochondria? So be it.

His mind was spiraling out of control.

//

For as long as he could remember, he had dreams (and something he would not dare call visions) about this one girl. As if he was watching glimpses of her life, little moments, bits and pieces. But it was almost constant. He was so used to it at this point that he found it relaxing. It was very confusing growing up. Every adult around him was freaking out when his childhood imaginary friend phase would just not go away. So once he realized that people were thinking he's weird, he just stopped talking about it. It was also a big revelation to him when he found out that other people did not have these visions in their head so intensively. When he was 17 he had an obsession phase, where he researched the fuck out of how brains worked, but nothing seemed to match. His dreams did not provide him with anything specific, no details about place, vague signs that this person he kept seeing at least lived in the same time frame as he did. It was little things he saw and felt, as if her emotions traveled to him. He'd seen her happy, laughing with friends while she tried weed for the first time, getting nervous by her exams and debating whether to brush her teeth in the evening. Her becoming a medic now finally answered few questions. Often he would wonder why was she studying so much. His blurry dreams blocking these specifics out, just to make it all more frustrating. Observing her having a a crush on someone was unnerving and eventually, seeing little things from her romantic relationship just made him supremely mad. He was glad that was over, because at one point, it had started to seriously mess up his mood. He genuinely celebrated the break up. Incredible amounts of little moments and details that were conveyed to him, but no idea on where or who she was. He just had this knowledge in his head about someone who he doubted actually existed.

And now she was probably standing right across the track. It was a lot to take in.

//

Most of the medical team traveled with them, as far as Lando was aware. Never really paid that much of attention to that department until then. So he figured he's only have few days to capture her attention, she might have been local. He was already contemplating moving here to join her life. That's when he decided to get a full medical check up upon request.

He complained nonstop about a pain in his stomach - vague enough for many possibilities having to be ruled out.

It quickly started feeling like playing a video game. Having to jump through levels in order to get to his "boss".

He spent an hour in the medical centre, where he was taken immediately after his first comment about his fictional pain, because everyone still had in fresh memory the saga of Carlos's appendix. "This is gonna be easy" he thought to himself, because one of the first people he saw passing by was her. He was not even trying to hide when observing her. The way her hair fell out of a messy bun. A concentrated look as she was attending one of the staff members, listening attentively and taking care of their wound. The whole place seemed to glow up by her presence. He wondered how it felt when her fingertips touched the skin of another person and was almost jealous of the person she was treating. On par with his bad luck, the drivers had a dedicated doctor on call, so he was taken to a different private room where he had to undergo a full medical scan, with of course nothing being found. When he got out, she was no longer there. All for nothing.

//

The rest of his day was covered in a brain fog, he sort of floated through the media day, feeling like he was not really there. He let Oscar totally step up to be the main star this time. As if he could give a fuck.

Over the years of having to life with this strange connection, he managed to block it out temporarily for moment when he really need to focus. This time, he was doing the exact opposite. Trying to somehow "connect" to this personal bluetooth he had in his head.

Finally, after few hours he felt something. A light wave of anxiety, as she opened her email. Then a wave of disappointment, despair and her giving up. He was more than able to not get affected by her emotions - usually. This time it was sort of in tune with his own mix of emotions, so if he was a downer before it progressed perfectly into him shutting off completely.

//

He managed to completely forget that his latest girlfriend, if that was the right word to use, was coming over. He only realized when he saw a pair of female shoes thrown by the door of his hotel room. A wave of guilt washed over him. He was being an asshole again. As they greeted each other, he tried to kiss her as much as he could, trying to avoid unnecessary conversation. Maybe this reality check was good. He often got lost in his own head, listening sad song to fill this strange void - or he would party too much. Now, there was a real person standing in front of him, a super hot girl who liked him and was not annoying. He figured there was no point in drowning in his own delusions.

Letting her fuck his brains out worked, at least until the next morning.

[wistfulcynic]

just finished a full rewatch of OFMD season one, which i'd not done for a while, and am now deep in the shrimp emotions. Why is this show so good.

specifically i'm thinking about the beginning of 1x07 when Ed says he's thinking about leaving. On to the next adventure, etc. He says it so casually, like it's no thing at all, and it makes me wonder how that scenario might have played out.

There was a meta i read shortly after the season aired (sorry, can't remember who wrote it) which said basically the plan to leave is Ed's way of protecting himself. By that point Ed knows he's falling for Stede, they've had their almost-kiss in the moonlight, their tender bathtub moment. Ed knows, even if it's only subconsciously, that if he stays he'll just fall deeper and harder and that will leave him vulnerable in a way he's not quite ready for.

so i wonder what would've happened if he had left then. Not with Calico Jack in all the heat of fraught emotions but on his own terms before his feelings for Stede grew beyond his ability to control them. i wonder how he'd have coped with losing Stede then.

because at that point, he's got no real reason to think his feelings are reciprocated. Stede clearly likes him, says flat out that he's Ed's friend, but nothing he's said or done would lead Ed to believe it's anything more than that. And Ed, as we know, is convinced he's unlovable so of course in his mind Stede could never love him.

which means that if he'd left then he wouldn't actually have lost anything. Stede and the Revenge could be kept as a lovely memory of a brief good time in his life. He might pine a bit, maybe give himself the luxury now and then to think about what if, but i don't believe it would ever reach the point of painting cake toppers or even crying in a dressing gown. i think, honestly, that had he left then Ed would've been okay, or at least not significantly worse than he was before. Still bored, still wanting to get out of piracy, still feeling sad and lonely and unloved but at least he'd have the memory of his friend.

what eventually renders that scenario impossible--what makes him leaving on his own plausible while he could never truly have left with Calico Jack ("never left")--is that by the end of episode 7 Ed has started to have hope. He's started to think that maybe his feelings aren't one-sided. Maybe he can actually have Stede. Maybe he can actually be happy.

i've often thought (as ofc have others) that it wasn't the loss of Stede as such that brought on the kraken era. If OFMD had ended with a successful talent show and Ed and the crew deciding to be a sailing theatre troupe instead of pirates, even without Stede, Ed would've been okay. Broken hearts mend. What tipped Ed over the edge was the loss of his hope, and the better life he thought he'd found a way to have.

not quite sure where i'm going with this if i'm going anywhere, just... it's an interesting contrast and imo a quiet turning point that neatly underlines just how important this is happening really was.

[icarus-does-fall]

It's short an stupid but it fixed the brainrot <3

The hannigram fic idea that suddenly started rotting in my brain<33

I love these two crazy mfers a totally normal and reasonable amount

Somewhere in season 2 ig but like also just sorta an AU lmao

I need hannigram domestic bliss (except they're still crazy<3)

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

Will had once again been arrested and then set free because of over lying factors. It was becoming something of a pattern with Will being framed and then coincidently let go because another killer took the fall.

Hannibal, was of course the one still setting up Will, afterall he did stab Will only to moments later confess his love, but he'd be damned if other people kept saving *his* boy.

It was clear these two had a… problematic relationship but Hannibal knew how to be domestic on occasion, and these were one of those occasions.

After stabbing Will and begging for forgiveness while confessing his love, he immediately fled to Italy. Not long after did Will find him, they always knew where the other was. *Somehow*.

So of course Will found himself in Hannibals Italian Villa and one morning Hannibal and Will ended up in the kitchen together, Hannibal was cooking breakfast and Will was being a casual menace.

“William, please put the knives down, I need them to dice the chives.”

“Or I keep holding them, and try to stab you when you get too close.”

Hannibal sighed and continued to prep the needed ingredients for breakfast. “I have already apologized for that, must you keep it over my head forever?”

“No I don't have to, but it's nice seeing you squirm with guilt every time I mention it. More convenient than a gun this early in the morning too.” :3

Hannibal merely gave Will a slightly annoyed look as he took the Knife out of his hands and then kissed Will on the nose before going back to finish breakfast. Will bluescreenned for a moment, while yes Hannibal had admitted his feelings open affection from the man was still a strange concept.

“You're an impossible puzzle to solve Will.”

“Yeah- Anyway whats for breakfast?”

“We have caramelized french toast with a mixed berry compote for your child like behaviours, and I have a fiddlehead omelet with bacon and a homemade salsa.”

“That sounds- Hey wait a minute, I'm not childlike! I'm an FBI agent who have taken care of himself the majority of his life.”

“William, you point a gun at me whenever you want to get your way and pout whenever you remember your dogs are still in the states without you. Furthermore you pout whenever you don't get your way.”

To even further prove Hannibals point, Will pouted as his behaviours were pointed out one by one. The down side of living with and liking a psychiatrist, you tend to get psychoanalysied without your permission.

“Just shut up and make your breakfast already-”

Hannibal smiled smugly as he turned back towards the stove. A few minutes later breakfast was done and plated, Will sat at the bar, causing Hannibal to scowl from his place at the table. He mightve been a cannibal but he still had table manners.

Hannibal silently glared at Will, trying to will Will into sitting at the table. It eventually worked but not in the way Hannibal wanted. Instead of sitting nicely Will was sitting cross legged in one of the chairs and was breaking almost every table etiquette rule there was. But at least he was at the table.

“William…”

“I haven't done anything!”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you quite positive about that William?”

“Uh… yes?”

Hannibal nodded disapprovingly and continued to eat in silence, now Will wasn't nervous per say but he definitely was a little on edge from Hannibals reactions. Knowing his luck he'd end up with an ear in his mouth again while he slept.

Besides that one incident the two had a fairly calm and casual morning. Will did the dishes as Hannibal cleaned the table, after the chores were done the two ended up on the couch together watching some nature documentary that Will liked.

“You know this isn't going to last forever right? If I found you Jack is eventually gonna show up at the door too-”

Hannibal nodded, absent-mindedly pulling Will in closer to his side. “I am well aware of Jack Crawford's efforts to find me but I have ways to delay the inevitable for now.”

Will was about to say something else but Hannibal cut him off with a kiss, even going as far to bite down on Wills lip until it bled- The might have started to be a little more than civil but that didn't mean Hannibal didn't have issues anymore.

A gasp and a soft moan slipped past his lips as Hannibal kissed and bit him. Yet he returned the kiss with a similar fever leading to him tugging on Hannibals shirt, only to then he pulled away from.

A coy looking Hannibal smiled as he looked at Wills flushed face. “Don't get carried away now William, we still have a documentary to finish watching.”

[faexoxoxoxo]

ᴵ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃᵐⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ...

SUMMARY: when people ask how you met satoru, your response would be “at a club,” and while he'd smile and nod along in agreement, there was much more to the story…

PAIRING: bartender! gojo satoru x actress! reader

TW: 18+, masturbation, obsessive satoru...

A/N: part of my bartender gojo series but can be read as a stand alone, mostly satoru being a lil creepy shit... I mean fanboy!

It all started with a magazine...

During his proud bachelor days, Satoru had been a faithful subscriber to various porn sites and magazines. It wasn't that he had any problems with finding women to satisfy his needs; on the contrary, women at the club were obsessed with him.

One charming grin paired with a wink was enough to get anyone flushed and ready to drop their panties for Gojo Satoru. It was all just way too easy, and with the lack of challenge, eventually he lost interest in hooking ups.

Now, this particular magazine was one of his all-time favorites, so imagine the dismay when instead of receiving the usual erotic magazine, he found the latest issue of Vogue delivered to his doorsteps. A simple error on the mailman's part, and further proof to Satoru, that one simply couldn't find good service anymore.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

Sighing with disdain, Satoru flipped through the pages. “Boring, boring, boring…” He muttered, preparing to dump the magazine in the trash. With his flawless skin and exceptional looks, what did he need this for!?

Just as he was about to toss it away, a particular image caught his eye - it was a picture of you.

Nothing much about the ad was special, except for you. Who'd been featured prominently, wearing a two-piece swimsuit and, holding up a bottle of sunscreen, with a charming smile that screamed, “Buy this.” clever sales tactic, using a pretty girl like you to promote products, and god, you were pretty. 

Satoru could feel his heartbeat pick up as he studied your face; the cheery red lipstick enhanced your features, he was hooked, and the growing tent in his pants further served as evidence of just how much.

Turns out Vogue wasn't so boring after all…

“Hmmm...” he moaned softly, sliding his hands down his sweatpants to massage his growing hard on, his eyes fixated on the outline of your curves, the way the blue bikini clung onto your tits, and how the pantie strings were tied in a cute little ribbon. It'd be so easy for him to rip the flimsy fabric off you...

“Fuck.” Satoru groans, squeezing the tip of his pre-dripping cockhole. He wasn't going to last long tonight...

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

Getting you out of his brain proved to be impossible. Your face was always there in the back of his mind during whatever mundane tasks he'd been doing. In the shower, eating breakfast, at work, heck, even his dreams weren't safe, you'd wormed your way in them with the same kissable lips and sweet smile; it was like he was back to being a teenager boy with a puppy crush.

Two weeks after failing to distract himself, his resistance cracked, and he looked up your name online.

You were an actress...

That was the first thing Satoru learned. Not yet a household name, but a rising star nonetheless, with a decent amount of people seeming to enjoyed your works.

The second thing he found after obsessively scrolling through your social media accounts was that you had a boyfriend, Naoya Zenin. Now that was a name Satoru was familiar with—the regular VIP asshole at one of his clubs.

Lips twisting into a disgruntled frown, he stares at a recently posted picture of you with Naoya. What did you even see in this punk? He was an egoistical little shit...

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

The following evening, Satoru sat down to watch the very first movie you had a leading role in, a typical light hearted rom-com. in it you'd played the role of a clumsy assistant, oblivious to the fact that your boss had a crush on you.

Dispute the predictable plot, Satoru couldn't bring himself to turn it off; his eyes locked onto your every expression as it shifted from serious to flustered during the romantic scenes. You were good Satoru admired despite not having much experience then, you obviously had versatility.

As the movie's plot advanced, so did the romance; simple handholding turned into kissing and making out...

Every time the camera zoomed in on you and your costar, Satoru gritted his teeth, a bitter taste raised to the back of his mouth, watching as you moaned into another man's lips. It was absurd, irrational, and he didn't even know you, so where was this anger coming from!? Why did he wish it was him on screan kissing you instead!? Why did his want to punch the fucker for touching you!?

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

Safe to say, Satoru never watched any more of your works in the romantic genre again; his heart couldn't handle seeing you with another man...

What he did watch were interviews; he'd spent hours getting through every single one from the time of your debut, memorizing all of your preferences, from your favorite color to how many kids you wanted to the most used brand of perfume, shampoo and lotion.

He even bought a batch of perfume for himself, spraying it on his pillows and sheets, and using the lotion as lube whenever he'd fucked his fists to your pictures.

Eventually He'd lost count of the nights he spent lazily stroking his aching cock and imagining it was your little hands, or pretty lips on him ... those fantasies always ended with his cum splattered on his abs and the sheets. Not that Satoru minded the mess; he just wished he could have you there with him instead, longing to know how it'd feel to stuff your tight holes full of his cum...

Soon enough, his phone's wallpaper changed from the blank blue to a picture of you from your photoshoot for Vogue; he even hung a few posters of you in his closet, a little shrine dedicated to his one and only.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° .

It took some time for Satoru's best friends to notice his twisted obsession with you.

Shoko was the first one to point out how unhealthy it was, “At this rate you'll end up becoming a stalker, and getting charged for harassment.” she'd stated after finding out about his little collection.

“Just fuck a couple of chicks and get over this one, buddy.” Suguru advised, not knowing of his blue-eyed friend's various failed attempts at doing just that.

Satoru had tried to fuck someone.

The girl was one of his regular clients, tall, slim, hot, and pretty confident. She'd flirted with him a couple of times, and he'd indulged in it, thinking, why not?

He took her to dinner and had a fancy hotel room picked out just for the occasion. But when he finally had her in bed, he couldn't go through with it. She felt wrong; her eyes weren't the same shade as yours, her laugh wasn't like yours, and the way she talked annoyed him, so he left.

He'd tried this a few more times with different women, but it always ended the same.

The closest he'd come to getting his dick wet was in his private room in the back of the club. She had the same hair color as yours, and Satoru thought if he'd pretend hard enough, she could be you.

But then he made the mistake of moaning out your name instead of Sasha, or was it Simona ? ... well, he didn't remember, but whoever she was had left him with a harsh reality check, and a red slap mark on his face.

So He stopped trying after that.

The next woman Satoru fucked would be you or no one else. Sure, you had a boyfriend; sure, you didn't know he existed, and sure, there was a chance you never would, but he was convinced, with enough money and time, you would find your way to him.

Until then, Satoru would spend his nights imagining what it'd be like if he could get a chance to show you just how perfect he was for you, and pretending like you were his all the damn time . . .

✎⁠ I'm trying to get out of my writing slump so hopefully this was a good start (ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) asks are open for feedback and ideas so feel free to send me thoughts <333

✎⁠ likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated ♡

✎ the dividers are from @chachachannah header is from @chromesaine on pinterest

[manicrouge]

[ᴄᴡ]: discussion of death.

Reader who's scared of death and Simon, who has been exposed to death for almost the entirety of his life.

You often get panicky whenever you think too much, and over the course of your relationship, you haven't mentioned anything about it to him because you understand what he does for work and, while it sounds stupid, you're scared to tell him because you've got it in your head that he'd laugh at you or poke fun at it when it's a genuine fear.

So, you choose to suffer alone until you simply can't anymore.

You're laying in bed at night and you've been fighting the urge to toss and turn for the past hour now, your eyes are watery and your veins are ice cold as you attempt to weasel your way out of a full blown panic attack.

It's seemingly impossible, however. Your mind is going one hundred miles an hour and all you can do is sit in this paralysis type state as you contemplate your own mortality. But, you don't want to die; you love your life too much, you love your life with SImon and when that happens, you're never ever gonna see him again.

Your mind takes a short turn as you turn to look at the sleeping man beside you.

He's going to die one day.

This when the panic really starts to set in and you can't help but let a few tears slide down your face, letting a started gasp escape you when Simon opens his eyes.

Immediately, his hand is squeezing your waist and he's pulling you closer to him pressing kisses on your forehead. 'Hey, hey, sweetheart, you're okay,' he gently soothes, brushing his hand through your hair. 'What's wrong?'

More tears pour down your cheeks as you look at him, and in a blubber of hopelessness, you confess, 'I don't want you to die.'

He stills for a moment, looking at you before his lips form into a frown. 'I'm not gonna die, love. I'm right here.'

'But you will- and I will too,' you sniffle.

You wince awaiting his answer, yet, all he does is pull you closer. It's different to no other night, nothing has changed and he's still here even after what you believe to be a silly fear.

'And I'll find you in the next life,' he eventually says, 'and the life after that, and so on.'

'How do you know that?' you croak, burying your face into his chest.

His fingers lightly dig into your bare waist and you feel him plant a kiss atop your head before bothering to answer you.

'Cause I found you in this life, love.'

[notreallysorryxx]

#"Be A Millionaire"

Aventurine wants to put a baby in you.

Characters: aventurine (the peacock himself)

Warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding (so smut), use of the word "whore" (if that bugs you, why are you reading it 🤨), petname "pet", there's some hoes in this house LMAO

Notes: This was heavily inspired by "Baby By Me" by 50 Cent & Ne-Yo. I absolutely love breeding in smut so why not try writing my own. I'm not good at writing smut, but I tried!

Words: 1.5k

You couldn't deny that Aventurine was attractive. Although he might be a threat to you and the other Nameless, you couldn't resist his charm. He liked spoiling you, his 'pet'. Veritas thought the both of you were disgusting. He'd found out about your relationship after walking in to the two of you fucking in the hotel bathroom.

Aventurine often invited you to his hotel room, spoiling you there too. He'd give you anything you wanted, absolutely anything. Aventurine had invited you after dinner today. His gaze stayed on your stomach, noticing the slight bulge from the food you had eaten. Even though you were talking, he wasn't paying attention to what you were saying. His arm wrapped around your waist, palm pressed against your stomach.

"Aventurine? Are you listening to me?" you asked.

"Huh? Yeah, of course," he answered.

But you could clearly tell he wasn't. You were confused, following his gaze. What was he so fixated on?

"What's up?"

Aventurine smiles, rubbing his thumb against the skin of your stomach.

"It almost looks like your pregnant, doesn't it? Wouldn't be so bad if you were," he murmurs.

You don't respond, jaw dropped. The two of you hadn't ever talked about a baby, but you weren't opposed. You thought about it, a mini Aventurine sounded adorable. With his genes, any kid you'd have would look cute.

"Yeah? I didn't take you for someone like this-"

"Someone like what?" Aventurine laughs, "I saw a cute kid today in the hotel and then you show up, belly bulging from food... imagine how good you'd look if you were actually pregnant. You'd be glowing, gorgeous as always. Makes me wanna put a baby in you."

He smirks as he sees you go red, "Oh? You like the idea? Should I actually..."

He pulls you impossibly closer, hands groping at your ass. This is a habit of his, groping you. Aventurine knows you like how handsy he is.

"If we actually do this... I won't let you rest at all. Clear your schedule for tomorrow, hm? Come on, be a good little pet."

Your hands shake as you take out your phone to message the Astral Express group chat. The message you send is a jumble of words that can barely be discerned.

"Tsk, can't even spell write. Maybe you should call them."

You inhale sharply. Calling everyone at this hour? And when he's touching you like this? How would you keep your composure. Knowing Welt and Himeko, they'd pick up on this. And you know that Caelus wouldn't approve of your fraternising with the "enemy".

Aventurine waits as you decide. Eventually you give up and call your friends. "Ah, hello," Himeko answers sweetly. "We were wondering where you were."

You take a deep breath before requesting a break the next day. Himeko listens, allowing your request.

"But I do wonder why you'd request a break. Are you tired? Or is there another reason?"

"N-No, I'm just taking time for myself. Recuperating after the Luofu, you know?"

"Mhm, sure."

The doubt is clear in her response, but you brush it off. Aventurine raises his eyebrow, squeezing your thigh.

"Um, I should go... see you later, Himeko."

"Of course, goodnight."

Aventurine smiles, kissing your wrist as you set your phone down.

"Good pet. And you know what good pets get? They get treats. Sit on the counter, legs open. Rest them on my shoulder."

You do as he says, letting him kneel between your legs. He hooks a finger around the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off. They stick to you, wet from your arousal.

"Hm? Already so wet from the idea of me knocking you up, sweetheart? How lewd," he comments.

Before you can respond, he's flinging your undergarment in the other direction, licking a stripe up your core. You gasp. His mouth is so wet and it feels amazing on you. Aventurine smiles against your cunt, suckling on your clit. He teasingly nibbles.

He's too good at this, too good at using his tongue. In more ways than one.

He pulls back a bit, licking his lips, "I've barely even done anything and yet you're gushing on the counter. How cute."

Aventurine leans back in, tongue slipping inside of you. He hums and you can feel the vibration. Your moans only serve to encourage him, his tongue working faster. You beg him to stop. Not because you don't like it, but because you don't want to cum just yet. He doesn't listen for once. Your pleading spurring him on in a way.

"Don't be afraid... let go, my love. I want to taste you," he whispers as his face is still buried between your legs.

You barely hear him, legs tightening around his head. He grunts as you practically smother him with your thighs. But he doesn't mind and you can tell by the way his cock is straning his slacks.

"Please, Venturi-" you whine.

You're cut off by your orgasm, hands gripping his hair tightly. He groans, tasting you on his tongue. Aventurine laps every last drop of your cum up, wiping anything he got on his face with his finger before licking that up too.

"You taste sweet, as always," he coos, inserting his finger now.

You whimper from the overstimulation, squirming.

Aventurine clicks his tongue, "Don't make me tie you down, darling." By the way you clench around his fingers, he can tell you lick the idea.

"Dirty little thing, you are."

He stretches you open, but the both of you know that won't be enough.

"I'm sorry, my sweet. But I just can't wait anymore. It'll sting a bit, okay?" he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe. You nod, not minding if it does sting.

A little bit of pain is nothing if it gets you pleasure later.

"Good pet."

You watch as Aventurine slides his slacks off. The front of his boxers is a mess, fabric incredibly wet. You realise he must have came in his boxers earlier. His cock is reasonably sized, a bit bigger than average but nothing extraordinary. And yet he could no doubt break you with just his cock.

"I don't think the counter would be the best place for this. Especially if we're doing this all night. On the bed, all fours, and ass in the air."

You comply, stripping yourself completely while you're at it. He absolutely loves this position. Loves being able to push your head down in the pillows, loves being able to grope you from behind, loves leaving marks on the nape of your neck and whispering in your ear.

He positions himself behind you before entering you. You hiss at the feeling of him pushing in, stinging just as he had said earlier. But you relish the feeling. It's not so much painful, just unexpected. He can feel your walls clamp around him as your body struggles to fit him since he didn't stretch you enough.

"Shit! You're so tight, wish I had stretched you out more. But it feels amazing, sweetheart. The way you clench around my dick. You love it so much, don't you?" he teases, "I know you do."

He makes a point by thrusting into you. You groan, grabbing the sheets beneath you so you don't collapse.

"Was that painful?"

"No, keep going..."

He listens to you, setting a steady pace. But not before you adjust to his size. It feels amazing, euphoric, as he slides in and out of you.

"You can go faster," you mumble.At first, you don't think he hears you as he pulls out. You're proven wrong as he slams back into you. While the pace before had been steady and rather slow, now he's pounding into you, destroying your insides.

"My pet," he croons, sounding out of breath. "This is what you wanted, hm? For me to treat you like my personal toy... What would the others on the Astral Express think? Seeing you with someone they dislike? What are you going to tell them when you wind up pregnant? That it was an accident? Or will you tell the truth?

"You moan, "T-Tell them the truth..."

"Yeah? That you've been whoring yourself out to me?"He slaps your ass without warning and you can practically hear the grin in his voice."You're fucking adorable... imagine our child. I bet they'll have your eyes," he murmurs softly.

It's strange, endearing almost, that this man who's fucking you so roughly is speaking so softly about what your future kids will look like. You almost laugh at the image, but you can't in your current state. Aventurine reaches for your clit, rubbing it in a circle and pinching it between his fingers.

"I can feel that you're close. Cum for me, darling."

And you do, faceplanting into the pillow and collapsing on the mattress.

Aventurine follows after you, chest against your back. He pants in your ear. You feel him shoot his load into you, his seed warm. It's something you're not used to since he usually pulls out.

"That was amazing, you're wonderful. You'll make a beautiful mother, my dear," he whispers. "Ah, but don't think we're done."

He chuckles as you grunt into the pillow.

[celestialwhoree]

older bf price and his younger spitfire of a girl. always giddy always running around, until it’s night time and she makes a little nest to cuddle up on and sleep in the middle of the bed 🥺 just soft and protective john

John is just like a big bear in my mind!! All cuddly n grumbly n protective and I love him your honour!🫡💕

౨ৎ

John would never have expected to fall for someone like you. God no. A man of his age, his seniority, he needed someone at a similar point in their life as him. That was what he thought. Until he met you. Perhaps, what he really needed was someone to make him feel young again, to bring the energy back into his life and remind him that not everything revolves around paperwork, guns and fighting.

Gaz had introduced the two of you, bringing you to the pub with the guys in order to introduce them to his frequently spoken of best friend, who he'd grown up next door to. He'd told the guys how absolutely distraught you'd been when he'd enlisted, and he'd introduced you to his teammates ever since to allow you the peace of mind of at least knowing that he wasn't alone in his path, and that he was surrounded by good men. He'd wanted you to meet Price most of all - the man who he'd trusted his life with far too many times to count. To Gaz, you were the best gift he could ever think of giving John. The captain had been immediately smitten with you and your quick wit. The intelligence behind your eyes was impossible to miss, and the wickedness of your smile only served to make him want you more.

That was three years ago. Ever since then, you'd hit it off. John had given you everything, and you'd become his everything. You kept him perpetually on his toes with your impossibly quick wit and jokes that made him laugh until his belly ached. Your home was full of love and laughter, and whilst you'd finally found someone who matched your stupid sense of humour, and was more than willing to bankroll all of the hobbies you picked up, John had found someone to show him what life could be if he looked beyond the scope of a gun.

The evenings were always his favourite, coming home from base to be bombarded by a fray of limbs and hair as you ran to fling yourself into him, ever energetic from his presence alone. Long ago he'd called you the energiser bunny, and even now it stuck. "Hey, bun." He'd coo into your hair, and you'd spend the evenings cuddled up together on the couch, or pottering around the kitchen making dinner and drinking wine. For him though, the best part of all of your evenings would come when he'd carry you upstairs to your shared bedroom, dropping you onto the puffy, far too expensive duvet you'd both splurged on and shimmying into bed beside you. You'd stay up for hours chatting away about anything and nothing, curled up safe and so desperately in love with one another until eventually you'd drift off to sleep.

[pacentia]

Title: Forever

Summary: After BG3 events, Astarion and reader feel ready for a child.

Pairing: established relationship fem!reader x Astarion

Tags: NSFW, rough sex, sweetness, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, bloodsucking, kissing, L-bombs

Word count: 1,704

Note: listen up folks. no idea if vampires thralls can make people pregnant. but in my world they can. Pls enjoy. i haven't finished the game, so this is my own fantasy after bg3 events:)). Drabble/fic/headcanon requests about our darling husband are welcome :))

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and eventually months into years, together with your darling Astarion. After the events of tadpoles, mindflayers and vampire masters, the time had come to settle down and live quietly, close to Baldur's gate city. Close enough for easy supply runs, yet far enough to enjoy the privacy of your very own house. Astarion was quick to realize he'd want no one else in his eternal life but you - and asked you - on one knee - to be his forever.

The wedding was held shortly after, with only a close circle of your friends present. Karlach shed a tear from happiness - knowing you two were destined to be together, while Halsin felt just… Bittersweet. Astarion wed a fine woman, although he was secretly convinced that an Druid like himself: alive, warm, and aging could take better care of your needs.

This was often also the subject of certain discussions that popped up in your marriage as you were reading in the garden, or drinking hot tea beside the hearthfire. Worries that washed over him about the coldness of his touch - or the eventual loss he would have to endure somewhere in the far future, when you would eventually lose the battle against time. You understood where his worries came from, but you were always there to comfort your darling husband. You possessed no interest in anyone's touch but his and you pledged to him that you'd always be present in his undead heart.

Of course, the latter made you interested in if his vampirism could be cured or, if you could transform into one. Yet, both choices were frustratingly impossible. Curing him would just mean ending him, heaven's forbid. Transforming yourself would mean serving another vampire lord, a fate that Astarion would never want you to experience.

Though tonight - nothing of that sort mattered and you found yourself intertwined in one another, the soft duvet covering your bare bodies. Your fingers played with his light-grey curls, while his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, ready for bed.

"Say, love," Astarion suddenly spoke up, "I heard you took care of a lost little girl in the city today."

Right. A young Tiefling girl had lost her mother inbetween the packed crowds of the city, and the girl came to you for help. How exactly did Astarion know that?

"Karlach told me of course." The vampire stated as a matter of fact. "She saw you and passed by this noon for tea." You nodded and explained the situation - how you held the little girl's hand right until you found her mother together. The woman thanked you over and over again.

A small silence fell between you two, until the man continued his stream of thoughts, "Karlach then asked me if we'd ever have children and I said that I didn't know what you would think of it and I -" Astarion's gaze avoided yours until he remembered he was probably rambling again, "Sorry love, I just wanted to know if you and I could have that sort of future together?"

Your heart fluttered at the thought of Astarion as a father. He'd definitely spoil his little ones and love them unconditionally.

"A little one to raise in our house." The pale man smiled, lost in his thoughts. "We already have a spare room that we could decorate for them."

Of course those thoughts had crossed your mind. It would be a new chapter in both of your lives, and you felt ready to take it on together with him. Behind his cheeky and often sarcastic banter, there was a sweet and caring man - only revealed to the closest ones he trusted.

"You know they'll be incredibly mischievous and stubborn, right?" You smirked up at him, to which the vampire quickly retaliated, "Darling, you wound me. Besides, that's why you're there to teach them kindness." Astarion sing-songed, nuzzling into your hair.

No hesitation was present in your words, '"Of course, Astarion. I want this with you." You smiled sweetly, gently guiding his cold digits over your belly, making your vampire husband rub it with such fondness.

Something within him stirred, yet another level of deeper protectiveness that he would soon feel over you. Any other man that would come too close to you, would feel his deadly fangs buried into their jugular. Rip them to shreds. Kill them in cold blood. In fact, it made him involuntarily bare his fangs to you, accompanied by a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You grinned at his primal reaction, and whispered as you caressed his chin, "Dear Sir, you know you can't drink anything from me when you've put your little one in me, right?"

He was taken by a frenzy, and rolled his heavy body over yours - his nose buried into your neck, inhaling the delicious smell of your perfect blood. His cock hardened at the thought of drinking from you, his icy tongue lapping over the countless bite marks that he'd decorated your neck with.

"I know, sweet love. Sadly, I'll have to return to …inferior blood." An adorable pout covered his beautiful features - which made your heart flutter.

"You should get to work then, my love." You whispered in his pointy ear, pressing small kisses along his cheekbone, and you wrapped your legs around his strong back. The vampire chuckled at your words, "Oh, darling." He groaned, elated to see you so eager to get bred by him. His hardness teased over your wet and warm folds, making himself slick before he'd slide home. His arms snaked under yours, to completely wrap himself around you protectively, burying his face into your neck. The intoxicating smell of your blood so close to his lips, made him lose control over his pace and bucked his strong core into yours, drenched cock sliding deep in your sex.

"Fuck, Astarion…" You gasped in pleasure, his large cock burying itself deep deep deep within your folds. The vampire watched your features contort into pure bliss, and bit his lips in return - until he was nestled as deep as possible.

"This is what you want, isn't it, my darling?" Astarion whispered, while you clawed at his back - sweet agony from his pressure on your cervix. His way with words was too much to bear. Icy lips found your ear again, dripping with sin, "Completely inside your warm, wet, delicious cunt."

You could only whimper Astarion and nod, your fingers buried in his soft curls, as his hips started to gently, slowly thrust inside you. His cock felt so perfect. Big, firm, as if he was carved just for you.

"Fuck, darling," Your husband growled, losing himself deep inside you, speeding up his pace, shifting his position so that he could hold onto your hips for leverage. His red eyes feasted on your body, the most beautiful creature he'd ever set his gaze on. He could hear your heart beating faster. Blood pumping through your veins. Cheeks flushed red. He was salivating for you.

"Please, Astarion…" You cried out in delicious agony, needy for him to grab and fuck you harder. Impregnate you. Show Faerûn that you completely belong to him.

"What is it, my love?" He growled with bared teeth, sounds of wet, sloppy thrusts filling the bedroom.

"Bite me once more." You begged, holding onto his strong shoulders, "Just one last time, please."

Yes. One more time he could have you. His sanguine hunger kicked in, and he couldn't restrain himself anymore, "Oh my, darling…" He moaned In relief, his thrusts never faltering, thanking you over and over again for your gift - until he set his fangs in your neck.

One last time that sharp, ice-cold feeling washed over your senses - unable to move or do anything. Delicious pain mixed with heavenly pleasure, both of your orgasms were nearing. No combination more delicious for your husband - your fresh blood spilling from his lips and your cunt wrapped tightly around him. Pleasure welled up inside of your belly, enduring your vampire's violent kiss - until you reached your peak while he drank from your neck.

His digits dug into the sheets, pupils dilated as he released from your neck in time, overcome with adrenaline and power.

"That's it, my darling…"

His thrusts became harder, faster - his bloody lips finding yours, tongue invading your mouth. You were absolutely spent already, having lost nearly two pints of your blood again - so you held onto him for dear life. The metallic taste of your blood made you nearly gag if he wasn't lapping it up off your lips like a hungered animal.

"Astarion, fuck… Make me fucking pregnant." You cried desperately against his lips, his big cock bumping against your cervix with each thrust. And like always, he delivered your plea - and with a deep and primal groan he reached his peak. "Fuck, oh - Fuck - darling!" He growled with bloody fangs, his crimson eyes rolling in the back of his head, jets of his release splattering right against your cervix. Filled up to the brim.

Sated with blood and pleasure, he collapsed on top of you, holding you dearly in the afterglow of your pleasure. Sweaty, bloody bodies pressed against each other. His face buried against the side of your neck, lapping remnants of your blood one last time.

"Can't get enough of it, can't you, sweet?" You grinned.

"Never, my love." He smiled against your flesh as his cold hand gently caressed your lower belly - hoping that his love would nestle itself deep inside of you tonight.

"I love you, Astarion."

"And I love you, my darling. Forever."

[haunted-xander]

Shadowbringers is about learning how to live.

Your enemy is stasis- everything and everyone is stagnant, they wait and wait for something to happen, but don't do anything to make it so (because the ones who tried before failed, because they don't know what to do/how to do it). People don't change, they don't try, not really. The crystarium is doing well, it's independent and sustainable, but it doesn't have the reach or power to do much outside of Lakeland. The Exarch is more-or-less confined to the city (because of the tower, because he's waiting for you), so even if he had power elsewhere, he'd be limited with how much he, personally, can do.

Eulemore is filled with mindless indulgence, there's no hardships or labour or anything but luxury for the free citizens, and the bonded only have to worry about fulfilling the task(s) they were brought for. The outside world doesn't matter, hard work doesn't matter, personal fulfillment beyond indulgence doesn't matter, everything exist solely in the moment. The people out in Kholusia have pretty much given up, they stay close to the city in the hopes that this time they will be picked, this time they will be saved. They wait and wait and do nothing but wait. The ones who try to live on are dying out or eventually give up and join the rest in waiting.

Ahm Areang, Rak'tika, even Il Mheg are all just waiting for something, anything to happen. They go day to day, surviving simply because it's all they can. Nothing changes.

Until, of course, you should up. You, who causes a ripple of change simply by existing, who can move the immovable by sheer will. You showed them that things can change, that things can, and will happen, if they just try. You show them that they can make things better, that there is an option besides waiting for a slow death, if they'd just grab fate by the neck and tell it "No. We are doing this my way".

And they do. They rally up together and do what they thought impossible. Not all their efforts succeed(not immediately), but they tried. They tried, they failed, and they got up and tried again and again until it did work. They take the chances, not knowing how it'll turn out (because it's not about whether it fails or succeeds, it's about having tried).

They learn how to try, little by little, and every step they learn what it means to really live.

Endwalker is about learning how to love life.

Your enemy is nihilism- the idea that nothing matters, that there is no real joy to be found that isn't snuffed out by misery. A concept that denounces greys in favor of a black-and-white view where black is all encompassing. Everywhere you go, people are doing what they can to survive, but refuses (or maybe are afraid to, or maybe never knew they could) try to actually save themselves. The Forum plans for escape, to leave their homeworld behind and take whatever they can afford. They will live on, but they won't be saved, no one is saved(and even with escape they aren't safe, Despair is everywhere and She will not stop until all has become Nothing).

The Loporrits love Etheirys, but in the way Winter loves Spring. They know about it, they are so close to it, but they are distant. They're strangers, they've never met. It's love, and it's pure and true, but it's also just love. It's surface-level(because the surface is all they had). Their love is pure but it's instinctual. Programmed. They love because they don't know how to not love. They want to save it's people, save us, but they don't know what it really means to save, so they create refuge instead(because that's what She told them to, because this is how love works for them).

The people of Garlemald are terrified, they are victims of extreme indoctrination, the (deserved) push-back their army got proved them "right"(that we are savage beasts to fear, that they are but prey in the maws of rabid dogs). They want to be build-up again, but what's left for them now? The world hates them(and it's all their fault, the ones who see past the propaganda know this, but who will listen to them?) and they are dying. It's so cold and the fuel is running out. They won't accept help, because they've been filled with the idea that there is no such thing as pure kindness from "savages"(and they are too prideful to question it, to break apart from the illusion that they are surperior, because they're terrified to face the truth).

The sky screams, the earth wheeps and the foundation of existence is overtaken by Despair, misery is around every corner and who knows what will happen now? Where do we go? What do we do? We live and live but for what?

What's the point of it all?

That's the question, and the answer is everything. We live because there is joy to be found. Because there is beauty in the world. Because there are stars in the sky. Because flowers bloom in spring. Because cats purr. Because waves crash against the shore. Because of every single little thing we can see, hear or feel. Because we love and are loved. Because there are things to do and discover. Because why not?

And you tell them this, by letting them see that there is more to life than the little they have seen. The Forum has closed it's eyes to anything but it's own kith and kin, everything outside of Old Sharlayan is irrelevant(non-intervention, always non-intervention) and it takes the entire world coming and telling them "We are here. We are alive, and we will make tomorrow happen." for them to realize they have slowly been killing themselves and what they stand for(you pride yourself on knowledge, but where is your wisdom? What do you truly know of things outside your own bubble? You do not know that which is lived because you refuse to aknowledge anything but the written word).

The Loporrits see Etheirys itself, they experience it's corners and valleys and learn what love can really be. They want to save it, truly save it, because they love and this time it's informed, it's personal(I love you, I love you, and I want you to know I love your loves too).

In Garlemald everything is slow, unsteady and complicated, but it's changing. They're changing. With every person who accepts help the illusion of supremacy and "purity" melts away just a bit, and the wall standing between them and us breaks a little(it will never vanish completely, years upon years of oppression and subjugation and conquest don't disappear like that, but it's a start).

Shadobringers is about learning how to live, but Endwalker is about learning how to love life.

[forever-rogue]

Hi! so i've kinda had the worst past couple of days in a long time and I have a joel request of him just trying to cheer you up in his own grumpy old man way where its not really working but he's trying his best + maybe some Ellie enjoying how shit he is at it. Thank you :)

AN | Joel being soft for reader and only reader 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mention of Injury (mild, nondescript but mentions blood)

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller was a hard man. The years and circumstances had done that to him. Every year, with every little thing that had happened he'd retreated further into himself and became a shadow of himself. 

But then had slowly he'd come more out of his shell, more alive again. He'd never again be the same man from before the Outbreak, but he could be happy again. It was something he'd thought was impossible but he was gradually beginning to believe was obtainable. It had all started with Ellie; he might have been her savior but he was every bit her savior as well. 

And there was you. You had caused him to feel a hundred thousand emotions he thought he'd long buried and forgotten. He just wasn't quite sure how to approach that just yet. But he did what he could and tried to show his affection in his very own Joel way.

Ellie might have teased him about it, but he did his best. Even if you didn't notice, that was okay. He just wanted to make sure you were happy and to put a smile on your face.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But right now there was no smile on your face. You'd gotten to the cafeteria and were on the hunt for some cookies. You were definitely in the midst of some pms and the cravings had hit. All you wanted now was something sweet. Your tummy had decided that it was chocolate chip cookies you were after. 

Unfortunately, there weren't any to be found. You had been positive that Vickie had baked some but they were either nonexistent or already all gone. You snooped around the counter and eventually found an empty tray that had suspiciously cookie-like crumbs on it.

"Animals," you sighed softly. People always descended on sweets first. You should have gone in the morning rather than waiting for the afternoon, "not a single cookie left."

You felt prickling at the back of your eyes, which you knew, realistically, was a dramatic reaction. But hey - hormones were weird and cravings happened.

Joel happened to walk in and noticed you staring dismally at the empty counter. A deep frown was tugging on your features, setting your mouth in a pretty little pout. He loathed seeing you upset. He was at your side in an instant.

"Everything alright?"

"No - yes," you shrugged as you turned to look at him. He still managed to make you weak in the knees despite how often you'd seen him. He was handsome in a roguish way and he'd always been kind to you, "its nothing."

"Don't look like nothin'," of course he wasn't going to let it go. You knew him better than that by now, "you look upset."

"It's noth - it's silly and you're going to laugh at me," your face burned under his intense gaze; you felt so vulnerable.

"Never," and that was a promise.

"I just really wanted some chocolate chip cookies," you confessed, so quietly that he almost wasn't sure he'd heard you. Then you noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile, "I know it's stupid! It's just that I've got pms and it's making me want something sweet. I was looking forward to some cookies."

"Oh," you didn't have your cookies and were upset. By proxy, Joel was now upset. His brows furrowed as a heavy sigh escaped your lips, "I'm sorry they didn't have your cookies. And that you're dealing with your…monthly stuff."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, "me too. But I'll just find something else. Thanks for listening to me complain."

"It ain't complaining," he hesitantly reached over and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You tried - unsuccessfully - to ignore the tingles that surged through your veins, "I'm sure you'll find something sweet."

"Thanks Joel," you offered him a small smile, "you're very kind."

You brushed past him, giving a last little parting wave as you headed outside. Joel watched you go, a plan already forming in his mind. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was evening before you returned home, deciding that it was time for a hot shower and then into bed with a book. You were starting to feel crummy and hoped this would help. 

But when you got home, you were greeted by a delicious smell that made you stop in your tracks. You hadn't cooked or baked anything…you'd guard went up as you walked into the kitchen.

On the table there was a huge, fresh plate of cookies. You couldn't hold back your squeal of delight as you padded over to them and eagerly grabbed one and stuffed it into your mouth. The idea that it could have been a trap hadn't even crossed your kind. 

There was no note or anything, but you knew exactly who these were from. 

Joel Miller. 

Your heart felt it could burst from sheer happiness. You were going to find later and thank him; this was one of the nicest things anyone had done for you in a long time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few weeks since Joel had made you cookies. You still hadn't managed to properly thank him; every time you saw him he appeared to be busy or disappeared within the blink of an eye.

One day you'd do something special for him. 

That day just wasn't going to be today. You were leaving the sheepish enclosure after feeding the small herd, as it was your designated day to do so. You'd been so preoccupied with playing with them that you weren't paying much attention to the closing of the gate. 

Not until you have a piece of rogue wire scrape down your arm. A sound of surprise escaped your lips as you looked at your arm to find it bleeding.

"Oh," you stared at it until you heard a pair of hasty footsteps stop in front of you.

"What happened?" you looked up to find Joel watching you with concern etched all over his face. He reached for your wrist, hesitantly at first but when you didn't flinch away, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and gently pulled your arm towards him, "you're bleeding."

"I scratched my arm," you looked towards the fence, as though realization suddenly dawned on you. You swore that your arm started to hurt even more, "it hurts."

"I know baby, I know," he didn't seem to have a clue as to what he had said but it was definitely not lost on you. You watched him intently, unable to contain the wild thumping of your heart as he looked you over, "let's go and this cleaned up, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed softly, trying to hold back your sniffles, "okay."

He reached for your hand on the opposite arm and tenderly took it in his hand, leading you over to his place. You'd been to his house before on several occasions but something about this felt so different.

Joel was quiet as he took you upstairs to the bathroom, motioning for you to sit on the side of the tub. He made quick work of getting all his supplies together and then patching up your wound. Not that it was much, it probably looked worse than it really was, but you appreciated him nonetheless.

"It might sting a little, okay?" He grabbed the alcohol and started to clean the scratch and you tried not to hiss at the pain but you knew it was written all over your face, "almost done. It'll feel better soon."

You nodded in understanding as he dabbed some ointment onto your arm before wrapping the wound up so it would stay clean. It was over before you knew it and you were almost sad that it was done. That meant his hands weren't going to be on yours anymore. 

He patted your knee when he was done and stood back up. You looked at him with such wide, soft eyes that Joel had struggled to hold back from kissing you. Damn.

"Thank you," your voice was soft and all he could manage in response was a nod of his head. It was then that you had remembered you still had something else to thank him for, "oh! Before I forget - thank you for the cookies. They were delicious."

"H-how did you know it was me?" his cheeks flushed pink as you beamed at him.

"It wasn't hard to put two and two together," you insisted, "I complained about not having cookies and suddenly there's a plate waiting at home? Come on, Joel. You made that almost too easy! But they were also delicious."

"I'm glad you liked them," he whispered softly, "and I'm glad your arm is okay."

"Me too," you smiled up at him, "all thanks to you, Joel Miller."

He couldn't find it within himself to muster up even a single word, too afraid he might spill his innermost secrets. Instead he brushed his knuckles along your cheek ever so gently.

He didn't have to say anything, not really. Everything between the two of you was loud and clear. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn't been sick in a long time and realized it wasn't something you missed. When it came around, you were really down and out. 

Like right now. You caught something but from who or what you had no clue. 

You did know however that you felt and looked like absolute garbage and had no energy either. So you did all that you could - stay in bed and rest.

But you were hungry and thirsty but didn't have it within yourself to actually get up to take care of yourself.

When you heard someone knocking at the door all you managed to do was shout in response, "its open!"

A moment passed before the door was actually opened and you heard a pair of tentative footsteps. You listened to their path until they stopped in front of your bedroom.

You rolled onto your back and looked up, finding Joel standing there and holding several bags of supplies. He hated seeing you like this; you hated him seeing you like this too. 

"What're you doing here?" you asked softly as he cleared his throat nervously, "Joel?"

"Maria told me you weren't feeling well," he said gruffly, "I came to take care of you."

"'m sick," you coughed lightly as he grimaced, "don't want you to get sick too."

"I don't care," he insisted in a tone that suggested it was pointless to argue, "I'm here to take care of you. You realize I'm not just leaving, right?"

"Of course I do," you sat up as he hesitantly came over and sat at the edge of your bed, "you're a stubborn man, Joel Miller."

"I've heard that a time or two," he snorted in amusement, "and much, much worse."

"Hmm," you laughed lightly as you leaned against your pillows, "what if you get sick?"

"I won't."

"If you did," you pressed further, "would you let me take care of you?"

He paused for a moment before nodding. He knew that you were just as stubborn as him, "I would."

"Good," you paused for a moment before a serious look crossed your features, "can I ask you something, Joel?"

"Anything," he insisted softly, his voice dropping to a tone that seemed to be reserved just for you.

"You’re always so nice to me,” you tried to ignore the fact that warmth was rising in your face, enough that you were sure you could fry an egg on it, “but…”

“But…” he echoed, reaching over and brushing your hair out of your face before feeling your forehead, “but what?” 

“It’s me,” you waved your hand around, “you’re always like this with me. But not anyone else. I don’t think so anyway.”

“You’re right,” he confirmed, his simple and sure answer coughing your brain to scramble, “the kid keeps saying I’m sweet on you. She’s not wrong.”

“Oh,” you hadn’t quite processed the weight of his words…not until, “oh.”

“Mhmm,” Joel didn’t necessarily have a way with words, but he didn’t need to when his actions spoke so loudly. You smiled at him and he felt like he was the one that was going to melt into a puddle, “have you eaten?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, “too tired.”

“Well then,” he stood up, hands on his hips, “I’ll go and make some soup. Okay?”

“Okay,” yeah. You could definitely get used to this. He grabbed the bags with groceries and supplies before turning to head to the kitchen. But you could let him go just yet, “Joel?”

He turned around and raised an eyebrow, “yes?”

“Me too,” you was the only thing you could get out. Judging from the way his face lit up, you knew he knew what you were trying to say. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised, “get some rest in the meantime.”

“Okay.”

[jadewritesficshere]

Shirts

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you notice somethings changed about Steve's dresser (<1k words)

Contains: fluff, no gender description of reader, reader is called Honey

"Hey Steve?" You call, brow furrowed in confusion at the dresser. "Yeah?" Steve yells back from the bathroom. You peer into the dresser drawer," Where are your clothes?"

You can hear Steve turn off the light in the bathroom and the creak of the floorboard as he walks back into his bedroom. "Huh?" Steve appears at your side," Oh."

Steve's dresser drawers were usually stuffed to the brim. You would put the winter stuff away during summer and the summer stuff away during the winter. Unlike you, however, Steve kept his clothes out year round. The more often worn clothes ended up towards the top while the stuff rarely worn kept the bottom drawers full. He was stubborn too, arguing that it was a waste of time when he'd use the clothes again eventually ("Besides, Indiana weather changes so often one day it snows, the next it's so hot, and the next its a tornado. You got to be ready year round Honey").

But now? The drawer you opened had his shirts neatly folded on the left, but nothing on the right. You had peeked into the drawer beneath it and found the same with his pants.

"Made room for your stuff." Steve said it as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he didn't cause your heart to beat faster. As if the most stubborn and routine man you knew didn't just change something to include you in it.

Steve elbowed your side and gave you a grin," Got the winter stuff put away so you can't keep stealing my sweaters." You gasp in mock offense," I did not steal them! I borrowed." "Mmhmm and why is it i still don't have them?" Steve kisses your cheek, letting you know he isn't truly upset.

Steve leaves your side to head to the bed. You grab one of his shirts out of the drawer and pause again," Hey Steve?" "Yeah?" You flip through the shirts, "Why do you have the same exact shirt like...three times?"

"Well, sometimes you like shirts to fit you loosely so I got a shirt that does that. And sometimes you like shirts to be skin tight so I got one like that. And then the shirt that I already owned." Steve wanders back over, lifting each shirt as he mentions them. You can see the one he owned slightly faded compared to the new ones.

"You did that for me?" You can't help the sappy tone. Steve deflects," It's not that much. They had a sale on shirts. Besides, this way I don't have to fend off you and Robin for my own clothes." Steve won't meet your eyes.

Because Steve loves loud and has been called too much. Has been told it was "a lot". And he doesn't want to see that in your eyes. But if he looked up all he would see would be adoration. Love.

"Steve that's," you clear your throat," That's the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me." Steve's head snaps up to look at you. Whatever he's searching for in your eyes he must find, because you can see the tension fall from his shoulders.

"Well, I'll have to think of more things to top that." Steve grins at you. You smile back, heart beating fast. Your stomach alight with butterflies. You quickly change your shirt into one of his. Steve's eyes watching you the entire time sending shivers down your spine.

You walk over to where he is sitting on the bed, smiling down at him. "I love you." You declare as you thread a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I love you more." Steve counters, a hand landing on your hip.

"I love you most," You beam down at him. "Impossible." Steve wraps his arms around you and yanks you onto the bed with him. You shriek before laughing as you both land on the bed on your sides.

Steve pulls you closer, his nose lightly nudging yours. "I love you so much words can't even describe it." Steve murmurs, looking into your eyes," Just hope i can show it." "You do."

Steve's lips lightly brush yours. Soft. Sweet. His grip tightens on you as your kisses become more firm, more passionate. He nips at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth.

And as you kiss you can't help but feel overcome by the love you feel. And as your clothes end up haphazardly on the ground, you can't help but feel loved. And as Steve murmurs praises and holds you close, you know he feels the same.

[vivwritesfics]

Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter Eight

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.8K words

Series Masterlist

It was the final race before summer break, Spa. It had been a full two months since she'd last spoken to Max. A few days before she'd attempted to text him, but to no avail. Left on read every time.

Y/N couldn't begin to describe how much it hurt. Worst of all, she couldn't tell anybody about it. She couldn't tell Lando, not since he'd disappeared out of her hotel room at Silverstone.

Ever since her Formula One youtube career had begun, Y/N hadn't felt alone. Not until now. She'd never felt this alone in her life. This was the first time in over ten years, that Lando hadn't been there by her side.

This was maybe the first time she didn't have several videos planned for the race weekend. Well, she did, but those videos involved Lando, and they weren't exactly the best of friends at the minute.

Y/N didn't know if she could walk around the paddock without Lando backing her every step of the way. Sure she was friends with all of the drivers. But Lando was her best friend; Y/N didn't know who he was without him.

There was only one thing Y/N felt like she could do without Lando there. She called up Charles.

It had become somewhat tradition for Y/N and Charles to go to a café every time they did something just the two of them. Charles met her down in the lobby of her hotel. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she approached and they left the hotel together.

"What's up today?" Asked the Monegasque.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath as they walked through the streets of Belgium, searching for a café. "Everything," she answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Not with Charles. Not when he was so close to one of the causes of her problems. But she no longer had Lando to talk to, so she turned to Charles.

When they found a café, they took a seat in a cushioned booth in the darkest corner of the building. A waitress came over and took their orders. As soon as the waitress was gone, Charles turned to Y/N. "That's it, talk."

So, Y/N talked. She told Charles everything. About her feelings for Max, about how he suddenly disappeared. She told him about her sort-of fight with Lando and how things were weird between them. She told him how lonely she felt without him.

That was the thing. As much as Max was affecting Y/N, Lando was the biggest thing upsetting Y/N. She missed him so, so much. She hadn't gone a day without talking to him since she was eleven years old.

"Wow," Charles said as soon as Y/N was done speaking. "That was..."

A lot, Y/N knew. She looked up at him, waiting, hoping, praying he'd continue talking. And Charles did. "Well, I don't know what is happening with Max, but you need to just talk to Lando. He won't be able to stop himself from telling you eventually."

It was true, Lando was terrible at keeping secrets. It wasn't on purpose; he didn't do it with malicious intent. Lando was never one of those people that would be red faced, fists clenched not to spill the beans. No, Lando was one of those people who would accidentally let things slip and feel bad about it later.

Like on Y/N's thirteenth birthday. Her parents had planned out a surprise party for her and had invited all of her friends, Lando included. But Lando couldn't make it, not with karting. As he and Y/N walked home from school, he began apologising for not being able to attend a party Y/N didn't know about.

Surprise ruined.

Charles cleared his throat. "You haven't uploaded a new video in forever," he said, stirring a cube of sugar into his coffee.

"I know," Y/N said through a sigh. "I'm taking my summer break early."

Every summer break Y/N toured around with the drivers she was closest with, vlogging their adventures. This year, Daniel had invited her to Texas, and then she and Lando were off to a villa in Temerife with Carlos and his girlfriend. To finish the summer break up Y/N was joining Charles on his yacht.

"You need to sort things out with Lando before your holiday, you know?"

"Yes, Charles, I know," muttered Y/N as she sipped her coffee. "What do I do about Max?"

Charles really didn't know. He knew Max, they'd grown up together. Max's relationships were always a topic they didn't breech. He knew how Y/N felt about Max, the slight crush she admitted to having months ago.

"All you can do is wait," Charles answered somewhat solemnly.

Y/N let out a huff through her nose. She hadn't really touched the Internet since Lando had stormed off, choosing instead to stay away. She didn't know that twitter was going crazy with her lack of videos.

But it wasn't just a lack of videos. It was a lack of any kind of content. Videos, tweets, Instagram posts. You name it and Y/N wasn't doing it. "Better let the masses know I'm alive," she mumbled and snapped a picture of their coffees.

formulay/n

Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 55,683 others

formulay/n: therapy sesh ☕️☕️

Going to the cafe this time didn't have such dire consequences. There were a few comments about her and Charles being a thing, but not enough that Y/N had to acknowledge them. Most of the comments just so happened to be about her uploads, or lack there of.

Y/N and Charles stayed in the cafe only a little while longer, just chatting. If she and Lando couldn't make up, he'd invited her to Monaco or wherever he ended up over summer break.

Quadrant wasn't something Y/N had ever really been involved in. Sure, she'd been in a few videos here and there as Landos special guest, and she'd consider Max a great friend, but Quadrant was a different.

She didn't game, didn't kart, and was too busy with her own content. The last video she'd been in was when she and all the other YouTubers had done Mario Kart in real life (she was team Luigi).

The extent of hers and Max's (Fewtrell's) conversations were sending each other memes via Instagram. They really actually texted each other, let alone talk.

So, when Max (Fewtrell's) face appeared on her screen as she walked back to the hotel, Y/N was shocked, to say the least. She slid her finger across the bottom of her screen and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Ew, what do you want?" She said into the phone. Because, for some reason, this was the kind of relationship they had and it was how British people answered the phone.

"Ew, I want to invite you along for the next Quadrant video."

"Ew, what are you doing in the video?"

"That's for us to know," Max answered, finally dropping the 'ew's. "But, you haven't been in a Quadrant video in fucking ages and people love you."

Y/N thought about it. She loved being in Quadrant videos, loved the fun atmosphere they created. She loved the fun things they did together for their videos. Through Quadrant, Y/N had met some of the youtubers she'd idolised as she grew up. Her favourite Quadrant moment was when she'd met the Side Men. That really was a special day.

"I'll talk to Lando and then I'll get back to you," she answered him finally. They said their goodbyes and hung up and Y/N stepped into her hotel.

There, in the lobby, was the man she wanted. The man who was ignoring her. Max (Verstappen) waited by the elevators. Y/N wasn't quite sure what to do. She hung back until the elevator doors opened and Max walked in.

He turned around then, and saw Y/N walk towards him. His expression was blank as she walked into the elevator. After months, this was going to be her best chance to speak to him.

But Max wasn't ready to speak to her.

Just before the elevator doors slid shut, he strode out, instead taking the stairs.

"Max, wait!" Called Y/N as she went to chase after him. But the elevator doors had already closed and she was moving, the elevator taking her up to the fifth floor.

Y/N's fist slammed into the mirror. "Fuck!" She shouted in the still silence of the elevator.

The doors opened and Y/N stepped out. She couldn't think about Max right now, not when she had Lando to worry about. Grabbing her phone, she dialled his number and pressed it to her ear.

"Are you still mad at me?" Lando asked in way of hello.

"Which room are you in?"

Lando gave her the room number and Y/N hung up. She didn't bother to get back into the elevator and took the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. Lando's hotel room was a whole floor above her own. She marched down the corridor, arms swinging, her stride full of purpose.

When she was at his door, Y/N knocked, loud and fast. Lando pulled open in door in a matter of seconds, letting her in.

Y/N sat on his bed. "We need to talk," she said, dropping her cold exterior. "For the last few month I've been keeping something from you," she confessed.

Sitting on the bed beside her, Lando stared, waiting for her to continue.

"We've been best friends since your karting days. Because of that I've made other friends, too. Like Carlos and Danny and Charles. And... Max. This year, I've gotten really close to Max in particular. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I've got a little bit of a crush on Max Verstappen. Which now feels like shit because Max has been icing me out for the few months"

"Oh."

Yes, that was all Lando said. Yes, it pissed Y/N off. "Oh, come on Lan. That's all you have to say?"

But Lando, a man who is usually rather tan, had gone pale. His best friend had a crush and he'd told that crush to leave her alone.

"What do we do about it?" Asked Lando.

"First, you tell me why you were acting so weird in Silverstone. And then you tell me what the next Quadrant video is going to be. And then we do something about it."

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum @savagecelery @laneyspaulding19 @formulas-bitch @teenwolf01 @gayfrog29 @fictionalcomforts @avg-golden-retriever @pxppeypianotme @ruleroftheuniverse @ferrarisbitch @ashy-kit @dark-night-sky-99 @sadg3

[miasmaghoul]

Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

[acesw]

The Grecos, Schneider, and her Religious Trauma

One of the characters I really find interesting is Schneider. There are strong signs that she has religious trauma, which ties really well with the neglect she's experienced growing up and the way this trauma reflects her behaviors and words.

The Grecos are known to be really religious, and they're quite devout to Christianity as a means of life. It does not mean that they wouldn't do things to ensure that they're able to at least eat. Living in Chicago of all places is already one struggle enough, making sure they get by despite having bad relationships with gangs adds so much.

Prior to moving, they were more devoted to God as coming from a community in Sicily. They moved because of how bad the poverty situation had been (the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s), hoping to seek a better life in America. Of all places though, they moved to Chicago, where there were crimes and gangs all about. This resulted to the Grecos having to pull strings to keep their head up the water, and they still practice Christianity as a means to maintain morale.

We then have Schneider. The youngest and most neglected child of the Grecos. She was barely fed and paid attention to among her 11 older sisters. The Narrator also notes that she was even neglected from the start, as she turned a year old before her father realized she wasn't baptized.

Now, there are two main instances that showcase Schneider's religious trauma peeking through are the traces "From One Castle to Another" and "Long Night Trip". Both of which are very much talking about Schneider's past. There are parts of the dialogue that stick out to me.

-From One Castle to Another

"It's impossible to keep every child well-fed. Schneider could not even get a piece of bread in the Eucharist. But a good daughter would not let anyone worry about her. She sat on the bench outside the church and hummed. She found a way out for herself."

"The Grecos are among them. They're covered by the dark cloud of long-handed umbrellas. [...] But you can't find Schneider. [...] It rains heavier. The priest opens his arms to embrace the sky, 'The Lord be with you.' " " 'And also with you.' Schneider responds in a voice that could hardly be heard. She puts her hand on her heart. This is the first time she responds to the Lord. And it will be the last."

-Long Night Trip

The Narrator talks about Schneider's slow descent into losing her faith in these conversations. She used to pray and hope that God would fix things and give an answer for her and her family's suffering. And all that happened was that it got worse.

It only ever makes Schneider question and doubt, and eventually she stops believing in God. But everyone around her, her family in particular, still maintains their strong belief that he'd guide them out of struggle. Meanwhile, she take things into her own hands for that matter.

And again, everyone would resort to praying, praying, and praying. Yet Schneider wouldn't dare try. Because if he listened to her this one time then they heard all the other times and never cared to help. That rubs salt in the wound.

So with this, we see how Schneider creates her newfound identity. She starts frequenting underground markets and doing certain odd jobs. She is able to make amends with other gang leaders and grow her own strong faction in Chicago.

All so she makes enough money for the rest of her family to eat and thrive. It showcases her sense of selflessness, her full care for her family despite how they treated her. She cares for them more than anything, because even with barely receiving love, they're the ones that raised her. Schneider actively does it all to prove that she can give.

Even in the main story there are those hints of that trauma seeping through. Throughout the game she refers to her bosses as "My Lord", a name that's usually reserved for God.

In the 'Green Oranges' segment of chapter 2, we see that Schneider's younger self describes America as a new world. A place of wonders, where blessings will be given and all sins will be forgiven. There, "God loves the world". Because back in Sicily, she believes that God does not love her and her family here. This ties back to the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s, where again, the poverty situation had been so bad. Not to mention the overpopulation and the natural disasters that came with it.

Meanwhile, her adult self is heavily injured from the gunshot wounds and Vertin stops shooting her. She expresses her frustration of being unable to die fast, which then turns to this: "Or did God finally forgive me...He allowed me...to stay alive!!"

"God would never make or guide one to that first action," Schneider thinks, because only she alone did it. She decided to step in, with no guidance of the God she once loved. The God that never forgave her.

The entirety of chapter 1 and 2 shows that her trauma runs really deep. The youngest and most neglected child turns into the most diligent and faithless Greco. She expresses her clear disdain for God, and does everything in her own power to do what "he never did for her and her family."

[onmyyan]

Caspian NSFW ABC'S

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Three words, attentive, bubbly, and clingy, he needs that skin-to-skin contact immediately, no matter what, Cas checks in with you after he manages to get enough air in his lungs, gets you whatever you need faster than the request can leave your lips.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his eyes, the reason being one day you told him just how pretty you found them, Since then he can't help but see the beauty in himself, and his favorite of yours? Asking Caspian to choose a favorite body part is impossible, but, he'd always be a special kind of weak to your smile.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Need I remind you of the MASSIVE breeding kink this mf has?? Good because I will. He's happy to cum anywhere you'd let him but deep inside will always be his favorite.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has on several occasions cum into your food, it scratches this, hidden, primal need to have some part of him with you at all times, and he deep down liked that you were none the wiser.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Caspian has had a few relationships before and it's in his nature to please, he is a munch your honor, that is to say, while he hasn't been in a lot of relationships, he's always been a pleaser and learned to read his partners quite well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

So our boy loves to be as close to you as possible right? and there's something about having your soft thighs tightly locked around his waist in missionary, with those nails clawing into his back pressing him even further into you, yanking at his hair as if holding on for dear life, it makes his eyes roll back.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depends on your mood really, he follows your lead. If you're giggly and playful? He matches the energy, not in the mood for games? Bet. He can read you like he has a pamphlet

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Light grooming doesn't really care much, darker shade of his red hair, although he started growing out his happy trail when he saw how you reacted to it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very very romantic, mood lighting, and music if you're into it, Ol' house-husband over here makes it feels as meaningful and special as the first time, everytime. Worships every inch of your body, constantly praises you in the most meaningful ways.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You'd think with how often you two screwed he'd be satiated but nah he's a fiend who jerks off to your selfies while you're away and humps your pillow.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Huge size kink, Overstimulation, Feeder Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anyplace no one will see you, his blood pressure spikes at the mere idea of a mf seeing you come undone.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

BABES WHAT DOESN'T- but fr you doing something as mundane as reading a book or one of your hobbies he finds absolutely marvelous, one second he's admiring the way your skin looks in the light of the warm day, the next thing he knows he's kissing up your legs because he's so overwhelmed by his love for you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Can't degrade you, Nope. Sorry. He just can't be mean to his baby!!! It's not happening.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Certified MUNCH, If he had a beard it be red if you pick up what I'm putting down lmao. He'd rather go down on you but he's not gonna say no if you offer, just know he will get impatient and flip your positions eventually, too addicted to the taste to be patient.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to take his time with you no matter what, but in terms of pacing, by the time he finally sinks inside, his mind has turned off any other function than to please, meaning if you twitch a little more when he rolls his hips slower? He's doing it. If you go all starry-eyed when he fucks into you like a jackrabbit? Then he's shaking the headboard.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If the area is secure enough he'll do it, although he'll always prefer getting to take his time with you. His stamina is monstrous so he's ready to go when you are lmao

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's game to experiment if that's something you need but he is also a creature of habit.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Minimum of two rounds, max four, but they last hours, he wants to soak in every moment with you so if he can he's gonna take his time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't use toys himself, but he does get a evil lil kick outta using yours on you, making you squirm and buck against him, type to fuck you and use your vibrator on your clit at the same time, after all, if it made you squeak like that how could he not use the tools to his full advantage?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He's a little bit of a tease in the build up to sex, very touchy and lots of heavy stares, the way he looks at you is impossible to ignore and always manages to light that familiar fire in your tummy, during the actual act he's far too into giving you EXACTLY what you want and need to deny you even for a few teasing moments.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Very loud, lots of deep, choppy moans, he's whining out all his appreciations and praises, your name is all he can say sometimes, physically unable to do anything but fuck into you as deep as he could.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly has this fantasy of you getting his name tatted and the image of cumming all over that permanent mark has made him cum in his boxers before.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.5 and thick, and between you and me his tip is dummy sensitive

This mf YEARNS, he craves you, always, constantly, he'd be happy just existing in your space but you bless him by loving him, and all he wants to do is show you how much he appreciates all you do for him, this devotion comes out in many ways but the main is fuckin till the room stank 💀🤚🏼

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while, despite having just cum so hard he saw white for a moment, his heart pounds too hard to rest, he's giddy, buzzing in his place, arms wrapped around you like a second skin, he'll only fall asleep after he gets in a good hour of watching you sleep ofc.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Day 19: Hate Sex

♤♡-Pairs: Cyno/Scaraxgn!reader (separate scenarios)

☆☆-Warnings: mean (both), rough mouth fucking(cyno), rough fucking (both), bruising, harsh words (both), rough fingering (scara), male anatomy (scara and cyno), cuming on face (scara), rough treatment (both), ooc(cyno a bit),hateful sex pls dni if it's not your thing♡

A/N: Two characters in this one! Different scenarios, so post is a little longer. There will be more like this in the future. Tell me what you think!♡

Cyno

You were the worst. That's what Cyno thought as he pulled your hands behind your back. Holding them tight between his hand, grip tightening. He couldn't stand you. Or the way that you wore on his nerves. Always causing trouble for him with pointless and trivial matters. He hated you. That's what he told himself when his hand trailed down your spine. Massaging the flesh of your ass. He knew you were wearing a smirk on your face. You always did.

Cyno growled, ripping your shorts off and watched as the shredded material fell to the ground. Your front pressed against the wall. "What would the people think if they saw the General Mahamattra treating a suspect like this?" You said, your face holding a smug expression.

"Shut up, or I'll do it for you," he seethed, swatting at your now bare ass. And he chuckled darkly as he watched you shiver beneath his touch. "I'll decide how I deliver punishment," he sucked his teeth, tongue now smoothing over his own lips. "Now stay still and keep your mouth shut." He hissed, angrily fussing with the buttons of his pants. And when you laughed, he lost it. Cyno let go of your arms and roughly turned you around, shoving you to your knees. "You just love pissing me off, don't you? Looks like I'll need to shut you up after all."

He all but ripped his bottoms off, pinching both your cheeks. Creating a nice little hole for him to slip his dick through. And oh boy, did he. He wasn't nice about it either. His hands twisted your hair around his fist as he shoved you down his length. Groaning as he felt himself hit the back of your throat. "Not so talkative now, are you?"

He thrusted into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. His stomach muscles tensing each time you swallowed him. Tears rolled down your cheeks from the rough treatment, but he saw the way your body trembled. You were getting off to this. He clicked his tongue, "You're so annoying-fuck, your mouth is annoying." Cyno pulled you off with force, turning you around again. Pressing your body against the wall, taking no time to enter your needy hole. His hands gripped your hips so hard he was sure there'd be bruises there; good.

The pace was brutal, skin slapping against skin. Your front scratched against the harsh texture of the wall, but you couldn't bother to care. He was hitting so deep within you that you even dared to spew more lines. Only making him fuck you harder. He tugged you back by your hair, your body arching in impossible positions.

"Fuck, I hate you." He chanted, sweat forming at his brow as he fucked that hatred into you. "This is the punishment you deserve." He practically spit, speeding up his thrusts until he was eventually filling you with his cum.

When he says it like that, it makes it hard not to be on his bad side.

Scara

If there was one thing you were certain of, it was that you hated Scara. He always found ways to get under your skin and annoy you to the point you often vividly pictured punching him in the face. The annoying smirk he always wore when he'd tell you how stupid you were. Or berate you for breathing in his space. You weren't even in the same room.

You hated him, yet you always found yourself beneath him. Annoyingly holding your thighs upright so he could poke at your waiting sex. Slipping his fingers inside, immediately plunging them in and out. Laughing as your body shook from pleasure but you still held a scowl on your face. And you always made a point of gesturing to his quickly hardening cock. That it was disgusting how aroused he got touching you like this.

And he always made a point of telling you the same.

"Me? You should see you. Pathetic. Your body craves me even though I'm rough with you. If anyone's disgusting, it's you." And you hated how those words only made you more excited. It was all his fault, and you hated him for it. Especially when he was done making a mess of your arousal, only to smear it across your lips. His free hand guiding himself inside you, hissing. Once fully seated inside you, he fucked without pause. Thrusting so hard that his balls slapped against your skin. Your legs cramped from the position and the feeling of him so deep. But you didn't stop, whining about how you didn't enjoy this. How he was a terrible fuck as you proceeded to clench around him.

"That's not what your body is saying," he chuckled. You hated him. You hated how right he was.

And when he finally came, pulling himself out quickly to paint your face white. His cum sticking to your lashes and speckled across your cheeks. You couldn't help but think–you hated how much you wanted to do this again.

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