#i wanted to color but it was really annoying to work with it sob

[prxckedradiolove]

jemima deserves literally everything in the whole wide world she is perfect nothing can fix her

take one look a this angel

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[sanakimohara]

have you seen the way minho grabbed changbin?

[ Oh I saw it alright ;)… ]

[ MEAN DOM ] L. M.

pairing: minho x fem! reader

summary: minho manhandling you and just being a little toxic..

playlist:

type: headcannon / no plot

warnings: MDNI + SMUT + NSFW + IMPLIED DOM/SUB DYNAMIC + MEAN MINHO + SLAPPING + SLIGHT DEGRADATION + ORAL

a/n: Idk what this is honestly. I just wrote it right after seeing the inbox message. Let’s hope some of you little heathens like it.

Mean Dom Minho always being a little mean and direct when manhandling anyone, and everyone is so naturally fitting for him. And don't we all love to see him do it?

Mean Dom Minho unconsciously reaching a hand out for your waist, even if you’re merely six inches away from him, to dig his fingertips into your hip to pull you closer to him is a constant habit of his. He doesn't need any reason to touch or guide you. He wants to—all the time. No matter if it hurts you a little bit. There’s no point in squirming or wriggling away. It's a losing game for you the moment you're in his line of sight.

Mean Dom Minho bends you over any surface at any given moment in private. A hand tangled through your hair or clasped around the nape of your neck as he kicks your feet apart and angles your body into whatever position he feels like fucking you senseless in.

Mean Dom Minho, whose handprints are clear on your skin. Red and deep maroon imprints scatter the soft expanse of your body. He’s addicted to marking up your ass until your sob for him to stop, to give you a chance to quit shaking and allow yourself time to adjust to the excitement vibrating through you every time his open palm collides with your tingling skin. But he won't stop. He never does until he's satisfied. He hits you until those tears running down your cheeks can’t compare to the creamy slick trailing from your folds.

You can’t sit comfortably anywhere for days on end. You feel too embarrassed to explain why sitting in his lap is your only choice when the other members notice your aversion to empty seats.

Shame and guilt eat away at you under their passing glances of worry, but you're too flustered by the whisper of a smile on Minho’s lips as he kisses your neck in a twisted gesture of comfort to reassure them nothing is bothering you.

He’s humiliating you without even trying.

It's unfair.

Unforiging even.

And he’ll never stop doing it.

Mean Dom Minho is easily annoyed when he’s focused on a task, able to ignore you for ten minutes before he snaps and grabs you by the neck. You wince in shock and slight pain as he twists you around to lean in on him, pulling and tugging his hold on you until your whines simmer down into an apology. “M’ sorry, m sorry m sorry-“

“No you aren’t.”

He pulls again, forcing your head backward and steadying your back against his chest. His glare is direct, calculated, and increasingly suggestive.

Your lips tremble, and you suddenly fear what he might do with you. You weren't at all comforted by the realization of being put into a vulnerable position with little effort on his part. “Min…I-I really…am-“

“Sorry?” he scoffs, lips curling into a smile, barely easing his stern gaze. “All that persisting and whining and crying while I was working, but now you’re sorry?”

You swallow hard, heat rushing to your cheeks, coloring them a rose red as he roughly releases you from his grip.

Mean Dom Minho doesn’t let you revel in the split seconds of freedom, shoving you into a wall with one hand while the other drops his phone on the nearest surface. The smile begging to show on your face morphs into a sly smirk, seeing his head tilt at you. “This what you wanted right, sweetheart?” He purrs quietly, inching closer to you until you breathe in every breath he lets out.

“To piss me off when I'm working?”

It’s hard to form a thought or force a sound out of your mouth when he stares straight into your wandering eyes, raising a steady hand to your chin, so you have no choice but to look him in the face.

“I’m sorr-“

“And I’m not convinced you really are sorry …” he seethes.

Your lips press shut, guilty tears in your eyes as he lands a fleeting slap across your face. “You’re gonna have to do better than that…”

It’s a threat.

A dare to see if you can dig a deeper hole for yourself...

And you take him up on it with little regard for keeping your dignity intact because there's no better way to get under his skin.

“I’m s-“

Another slap, harder, quicker.

“Not good enough …try again…” he mutters, expression unchanging and eyes darkening, hearing you whimper.

You take another breath, “I’m-“

And another, sharper than the first few strikes across your reddening cheeks. He lowers the same hand, beginning to leave its mark on your flushed cheeks to secure a bruising grip on your jaw.

“You can do so much better than that, sweetheart…”

You hesitate, knowing what he wants but still clinging to your dormant pride.

Mean Dom Minho, who breaks down your stubbornness with ease. He’s mean to you. Rough with you. Pushing your wanin ego until you can’t stand being talked down to any longer and giving in to what he wants.

“Much better,” he sighs, watching through half-lidded eyes as you lower to your knees in front of him, mouth slipping open to suck on his thumb as he cups your chin. His erection stares you right in the face, poking through his sweats and twitching the second your hands rise to rest on his toned thighs.

Your mouth waters as he backs your head into the wall, his free hand being a guard between the hard surface and your soft scalp.

You suck on his fingers sloppily, letting him guide your head at a slow pace, whining in disappointment when he pulls them out of your warm mouth to smear the spit and gloss across your parted lips.

Mean Dom Minho allows a smile to cross his face, hands running through your hair, beckoning you towards his cock as your hands ease the throbbing muscle out from thin layers of fabric.

Mean Dom Minho is content with fucking your face just as rough as he handles you. Using its warmth until your jaw falls slack and your drool, mixed with his precum, streams down your chin. You don’t fight him, staring up at him through long lashes that flutter with pride each time he moans your name and curses under his breath, feeling the passion you put into sucking him off.

“This s’ exactly what you deserve, baby…the only thing an attention whore like you needs.…” he groans loudly, laughing wryly, hearing and feeling you gag around his cock.

You’re offered no warning when his cum seeps down your throat and coats your tongue, and you don’t expect one because you know he’s right.

You needed him to treat you this way.

To handle you however and whenever he wanted to.

a/n: the moment in question for those who are wondering.. 🖤

other links: n/a

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He's so fucking...ugh, I can't even begin to explain my visceral need for him to do this to me…

[shirefantasies]

Okay this is probably a really stupid and hyper specific request, but I really want to see it.. What about the Fellowship (plus Faramir if you wouldn't mind) with a reader who's really sensitive to the cold? Specifically in their hands too.

I have a weird medical condition called Raynaud's Syndrome where, when I get cold, my hands lose all circulation and essentially risk dying from blood loss (something about the blood vessels constricting in the cold) so I personally have to wear at least 2 pairs of gloves when going out in under 50°F weather. It's annoying as hell, and I just imagine the reader on the quest trying to hide it but someone notices they're wearing like 3 pairs of gloves or how their hands are freakishly ice cold and getting worried.

Sorry if that's too specific, it's just -5°F here so I'm thinking about it. I love your blog, keep up the amazing work and take care of yourself sweetie!

Nah, not stupid at all! Besides I've seen much more specific requests and scenarios 😆 this honestly has such opportunity to be a cute imagine though I'm vibin with it~ gonna do everyone cuz, well you know 😂 I use the term frostbite a bit just because they probably wouldn’t quite have the same medical understanding/terminology in Middle Earth lol

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Aragorn

“There is no shame in it.” Starting, you peer up at Aragorn, probably looking for all the world like a spooked rabbit. “It is cold,” he agrees simply, nodding down to your hidden hands. “Yes,” you reply, wringing them and shuddering, “I suppose you are correct. Call it misfortune, but I am quite prone to its ill effects.” Immediately he reaches for your hand, brows raising at the ice he feels in your veins even through your pair of gloves. Half releasing you and gazing sadly upon your wince at the loss of warmth, Aragorn reaches into his pack and hands you a bundle with a faint sheen. Leather gloves. “These are much thicker. A bit unwieldy, yes, but I trust we won’t be doing much fighting in the snow. Take them, please, for they see no use with me.” “How can I thank you?” You smile at him, wonder coloring your eyes. “Simply wear them with joy,” he replies.

Legolas

“Do not worry,” Legolas spoke suddenly at your side, all but startling you save the sheer calm of his presence, “I have something for you if you’d like- a gift of the elves.” Cocking your head, you swiveled to face him, flushing as he stepped close enough for your hips to brush. A part of you wondered if he was doing it on purpose, but knowing him he hadn't even realized...shaking your head, you held out your hands to accept what he offered. It appeared as a kerchief, a small shroud of fabric with a faint, almost silky, sheen. "You may recall our cloaks hide us from hostile eyes? Well, this will keep the cold locked away from you tighter than anything. May I?" Such a gentleman. Smiling, you nod as he folds his gift gently over your hands, almost sobbing at the instantaneous difference. Experimentally you flex your hands, find even the strain of your joints diminished. Without thinking, you lean up and kiss his cheek, pulling away with shock to his smile. "And yet you still have a warmer gift for me."

Boromir

He sees the way you furtively grip your gloved hands, tries not to draw too much attention but gradually moves to walk at your side. “Are you in pain?” He asks with a slight nod to your hands. At that, you sigh and shake your head. “No, my hands are just quite sensitive. Since I was young I was told my risk of frostbite is great.” Eyes widening, Boromir takes one of your hands; you wince at the motion’s rush of cold only for it to melt into a smile at the way the pad of his thumb brushes over the back of it. “Why have you never told me?” “Because,” you shrug, “it sounds like I’m just complaining. My claim is not believable to most.” “Your words hold true to me,” Boromir replies with a smile, pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket, “here. You need them more than I do. Really, I insist.”

Gimli

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Chuckling faintly at the dwarf’s words, you finally break from your reverie, realizing you must have been staring oddly in a daze. The cold was getting to you and bad, snow flitting between your heads and caking onto your cloaks. The old, worn gloves you had were hardly helping, and in that moment you feared for loss of your hands to frostbite- perhaps that was the ghost you’d seen. With effort you peel your fingers from their fists and wince. “Ah! Cold, are you? Why, I’ve just the thing! We dwarves are quite thick in the hide, often hard to beat by a little snow! But that’s also because we know a trick or two,” he tells you with a wink, pulling two little sewn objects from his pockets. Resembling small pillows, they fall lightly into your hands. “Give them a shake for a bit, see if you don’t feel better! A great chemical trick from the mines, you see.” Frowning faintly, you humor Gimli, shaking his strange gifts in your hand until- warmth! Grinning, you shake more vigorously and sigh in relief at the heat and motion spreading back into your hands, which you throw around his neck. “I’ll never doubt you again, Gimli!” “Mind telling the elf that?”

Frodo

"Can we keep the fire going?" Frodo. He had made his way to Aragorn's side, and though that was all you heard beneath the wind and your premature mourning of the heat it seemed the hobbit was vying rather well, making a few gestures before the ranger gave him a nod. With a small smile Frodo returned to the log you sat upon, lowering down to take a seat at your side. "I saw how cold you are. Your hands have hardly left this fire. Aragorn agreed we can keep it so long as watch is kept," he told you, nodding down to the kindling saving your hands. "Thank you," you breathed, "I hope he doesn't think me frivolous." "And I hope you don't think me a gossip, for I told him you needed it. I-I just worried for you and could hardly stand to see you get frostbite of our accord." Endearment took over your face as you peered into the hobbit's eyes, saw the reflection of your fire flickering therein. "Oh, Frodo, I could never think that. You are no gossip, but a hero." And with that, you relinquished the fire long enough to put your arms around him, pulling him close and bringing a different kind of warmth.

Sam

“You look like you’re fit to catch your death of cold.” Turning from your focus upon your hands, you see Sam at your side and smile faintly. “Let’s hope not,” you joke back, “but I’ll be grateful for the fire once we get it started.” Digging in his pockets, Sam looks down for a moment before producing a scarf. “I figure even if I had gloves they wouldn’t fit you, but you could always wrap this around.” “I can’t take this,” you shake your head, “after all, what will you do, then?” “I’ll just sit right next to you and that’ll keep me plenty warm,” Sam responds with a sweet smile, "here." Matters settled, he winds his scarf tightly around your hands, keeping them in his for a moment, thinking, then finally pressing a kiss to them before he lets them go.

Merry

"Oh, no, you don't!" "Merry," you giggle, "I need to get my whittling knife from my pack!" "I can get it." Since the day you told Merry you were sensitive to the cold, particularly by the frost that overtakes your hands, the hobbit has quite insisted upon holding them in his at all times. Even if yours are larger, his are quite insistent and, bless him, warm. However, he barely understood that you could hardly walk with both your hands in his all the time, and the others had taken to giving you little smiles and shakes of their head and never calling one name without the other. "You ought to give up," Pippin chuckles your name with a grin, "Merry is quite used to keeping his antics going." "Antics?" Sam shoots back, crossing his arms and shaking his head fondly. "More like excuses. I know a lovestruck fool when I see one."

Pippin

“You should have told me you were cold!” Guilt flit across your features at Pippin’s words and, of course, his glance to your thrice-gloved hands. “Well, it’s just my hands, you see, I-” “Doesn’t matter,” he cut you off with a grin of warm acceptance, “no matter what of you isn’t comfortable, you have me to take care of you, alright? Now watch this.” You watched as he placed stones in Sam’s once-washed pot. “I’ve seen healers do this, usually on someone’s back but I figure heat is heat, right?” Giggling, you admit that he is right. “We’ll let these go for a bit before you grab them- can’t have you getting burned either,” he dotes, shaking his head and peering back from the fire to you with shining eyes.

Faramir

"Faramir, they'll stare," you protested as he began walking you out the door. "And when I tell them this is what the nurses ordered they shall feel quite remorseful," he joked back, continuing on your course. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you went out into the White City with one hand both in Faramir's and in his pocket. The other you kept in your own, supplemented for lack of your beloved's warmth by an extra glove. It was, in fact, not the same. "Besides, there are worse pockets for your hand to be in, no?" That comment was quite worth relieving your left hand of its pocket long enough to give Faramir a light smack on the chest. Opportunity struck, though, and he caught your hand in his free one, pressing his lips to the back of it. "Perhaps I am fonder of winter than I quite realized. Always did we prefer spring's hope of blossom to the dreary chill, but it would seem there are many advantages to take in the cold."

Eomer

“Why do you hide your hands so?” Direct. Eomer, it seemed, did not find your habit of tucking away from the cold as discreet as you did. You sighed. Fear crept along your spine alongside winter’s chill at the thought of the warrior finding you weak. Would he believe you or disregard your word like so many others? “I’m prone to frostbite, you could say,” you replied quietly, hands clasped. At that, Eomer tilted his head, fixing you as a sight entirely new to his eyes. “Let me see.” Suppressing a wince, you held out your gloved hands and tried to ignore the jolt you felt when he held them, thumbs running over the backs. Frowning, he spoke again. “This will not do.” That time, you winced, trying to pull your hands away, but his grip tightened as he continued. “The Riders have far thicker gloves. Let me fetch you a pair. Your hands are far too capable to lose, after all.” Winking, he made his way toward the armory with a smile matching the faint creep of yours upon your lips.

Haldir

"Is this why they were so reluctant to send you? I must apologize, I fought so hard on your behalf because I thought they doubted you, not this." You shake your head, eyes almost tearing up at the hurt on Haldir's face. "You could not have known. I...try not to tell anyone. They seldom believe me," you confessed, hands wringing nervously. The mission was outside of Lothlórien, away higher into the mountains where the chill could affect you. Of greatest concern to you, though, was how Haldir would react to a perceived weakness. His grace had you taken aback, though, as he held your hands, never pushed you, ensured you felt able to fight before sending you into the fray. Even when you stayed behind from danger you couldn't help but smile as his words. "This will never happen again. All I want is to keep you safe."

Eowyn

“This is beautiful, thank you,” you breathe, pulling a short length of luxurious fur from the box with wide eyes. This could not have been an easily attained gift. “You like it?” Eowyn smiles, enraptured at your joy and the way you eagerly nod. “Do you know what it is?” Grin fading a bit, you shake your head, regretting your ignorance especially if it is to come off as ingratitude. It does not, though, or such only fuels Eowyn’s glow further as she extends a hand over it. “A muff! See here!” Plucking it from your hands, she slides her own inside the fur, revealing its tube shape. Alight, you immediately stick your own hands in there, sheepish at the way Eowyn starts at the cold of them before holding them together beneath the warm, fluffy layers. “This is perfect,” you thank her, your head falling to her shoulder.

Arwen

"Your hands are cold!" "I-I'm sorry," you pull from her grasp sheepishly. "Do not be," she smiles and shakes her head, "It simply came as a surprise. Mine are often the same. Rarely do I feel it so." "Prone to frostbite as I am," you remarked, "my hands are likely colder than any you have felt before." "Meleth nín," Arwen's brow creased, "why have you never spoken of this before? Perhaps we should try something." Your own brow creased with a faint frown as the elf took you by the hand, off to one of the many rooms baths were drawn in. "Oh, yes," you replied, "hot water does help." "I am sure it does, but would you be willing to try something new?" Swallowing a spike of anxiety, you peered into Arwen's blue eyes and nodded, giving in fully to your trust of her. You could tell she wanted to keep what she was doing a surprise, standing completely over the small basin as she was, but soon she was taking your hands again, dipping them several times into thick, heavenly warmth. "And now," she told you with a grin, wrapping your hands in small covers, then heated towels, "we wait." Every muscle in your body relaxed as the sensation crept through your veins, up through your loosening hands and shivering deliciously down your spine. "What is this?" You asked, almost adding magic to the end of your question but feeling a bit too foolish. "Wax of all things," Arwen giggled, "and judging by your expression, it is helping."

Elrond

"Let me feel them." Elrond's voice is commanding, but not at all harsh, as he holds out his palms and accepts your hands. Immediately his thumbs curl over them and a light frown creases his forehead. He nods. "They are quite cold." At that, it is your turn to nod as if to say I told you so. "The storm is to last for several more days. Come with me. Please." The last word upon Elrond's lips is one of the softest you've heard, drawing you up from your seat and after him without a single thought. You follow the flow of Elrond's robes down a corridor and into another room, this one with a crackling fireplace and the softest-looking bed you've ever seen. "What is this," you cannot help joking, "my winter prison?" Before you hear the lord of Rivendell, you feel him, his form drawing nearer until his chest rests against your back. "I prefer to think of it as our getaway," he replies in a low voice, hands falling upon your shoulders.

Lindir

Lindir’s face fell at the frustration upon yours, the way your hands shakily dropped from his harp. He was to teach you as you’d wished, but your hands were not cooperating with you. “You seem a bit stiff. May I?” Confused more than anything, you look up at him and nod. Reaching over, he takes one hand in each of his, brows shooting up the moment you touch. “Well, no small wonder! Your hands are like ice.” “I know,” you agree, gaze falling from Lindir’s dark eyes, “they get like this with every chill of winter.” You see the way Lindir straightens, the surprise crossing his face and creasing his forehead. “Then let us move inside,” he replies, massaging your hands gently in his, “and I will hear no more talk of lessons until we’ve drawn you some warm water.”

[archangeldyke-all]

Reader who crochets? And she makes these special sweaters with the left sleeve cut out for Sev’s arm?? Omg

-🥨

ANON did u see logan @sevikasenby 's crochet tapestry of our wife!?!?? THE TALENT IS BEYOND

men and minors dni

there's a superstition in the knitting/crocheting community called 'the sweater curse.' the idea is basically that when you hand make a prospective romantic partner a sweater, you doom the relationship to fail.

you've read countless horror stories on crocheting forums about relationships going up in flames once a sweater is gifted.

'she called the sweater ugly after i spent a month on it.'

'he thought a hand-made sweater was too intimate and i was moving too fast.'

'they left with no explanation the same day i bought the yarn for their sweater.'

you've seen it all.

you know that the curse is something to fear. and you really don't want to lose sevika. but she's stubborn.

sevika thinks the fact that you crochet is so. fucking. cool.

most people think it's a grandma hobby.

sevika thinks it's the most impressive thing in the world. you can make anything. she's watched you knit blankets, sweaters, tops and socks. little stuffies for the neighbor kid next door, hats for your friends' birthdays. mug cozies, coasters, pillow cases and dog clothes-- she's seen you make it all.

and she's dying to have you make her something.

"don't you love me?" sevika whines one night as she cuddles in bed beside you while you crochet a scarf.

"can't stand you, actually." you grunt, already knowing what she's about to bother you about. she huffs.

"you don't understand baby. i was sooo cold at work today-- freezing, really-- and it's not like i can go buy a sweater 'cause of my ar--"

"you're so fucking annoying." you groan. sevika chuckles.

"is it so bad to want to show off my baby's work?" she asks. you huff, shaking your head.

"it is when it means we'll break up!"

she wears you down over time.

you start crocheting her little things, wanting her to feel loved but not wanting to subject the two of you to the curse.

you crochet her a little keychain charm on your anniversary; a hat for winter solstice. in the spring, you make her a few new scrunchies for her half-ponytails.

for her birthday, you give her the first big crochet project you've made for her: a purple poncho in a thick, warm yarn, perfect for the colder windy days when her thin red poncho isn't enough.

she cries when you show it to her. (she nearly gets heat stroke a week later when she tries to wear her new winter poncho on a blazing hot day.)

when you propose to her (kneeling in front of her where she sits on the couch kissing her hands, metal and flesh alike, as you bat your eyelashes at her,) sevika doesn't even let you finish the question before she's pulling you off the ground and into her lap, kissing you breathless, and pulling away with a sob. "yes!"

"you didn't even let me ask!" you laugh. sevika kisses you again.

"you have to crochet me a sweater now. make it white, i'll wear it to our wedding." she cries.

you don't do that. (though you do crochet the neck tie she wears on your big day.)

you wait until you've been married for a year, until you're settled in married life and comfortable, until sevika's not expecting it anymore.

and then, on the night of your first wedding anniversary, you give sevika her first sweater.

it's the most intricate thing you've ever made. the cable crochet pattern you used was complex and time consuming, but it looks fucking gorgeous. beautiful royal purple-- her favorite color-- her exact measurements, and sleevless on the left side.

sevika wears the sweater everywhere. all the time. whenever she can.

you only planned on making her the one, but her reaction (and the wear and tear the sweater receives from being worn by the scary woman of zaun) inspires you.

you knit her a new sweater, every year, for the rest of your lives.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

[rosedpetal]

Like Father Like Daughter

Summary: Lloyd Hansen is a former CIA agent slash mercenary slash sociopath who gets off on the doing the most unspeakable things. When his high school sweetheart gets in a coma, he finds out she took from him more than just his heart and a promise ring.

Pairing: Dad!Lloyd x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, hospitals, murder, guns, violence, Lloyd being mean to his daughter (you), daddy issues dynamics, death of a parent.

Author's note: this is a repost.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

You were growing to hate hospitals. The sterile smell, white walls, floors and ceilings, doctors and nurses wearing those annoying scrubs that made everything much more depressing.

You were growing to hate light colors.

Tired of reading, you took a sip of your water bottle, eyeing your mother's asleep form on the hospital bed. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and tubes everywhere. She was stable, but they had no idea when she would wake up. 

Or if she would.

"She got lucky." The doctor said to your grandma, after explaining the after a car accident of that nature, your mother being alive was a miracle.

You didn't think of luck at all. Not when you got out of school earlier, seeing your grandpa in tears while he crushed your limbs in a hug, sobbing in your hair and repeating like a prayer that everything was gonna be okay.

Your sweet, cheerful and loud mother have been at such a state for so long. Two months in, and you could hear the nurses gossiping when they thought you were asleep cuddling your mother.

"Keeping this patient is useless. She's as good as dead".

You started to lose hope, but you couldn't give up. Your mother had to come back at some point.

She was the only person you could count in. Of course, your grandparents were great, but a child's place is with their parents. Or just your mother, in your case.

When you were younger you pried as much as you could, but she would refuse to tell you anything about your father, only telling you that he walked out on her before he even knew she was pregnant and she never heard of him since.

Somehow, you didn't believe her.

But after the accident that almost took your mother from you, you couldn't really care less about a father that you never knew.

And as the time passed by, all you did was pray that your grandparents didn't lose hope too. After all, the decision to keep the life support on was theirs.

"You can either tell me what the hell is going on or I can just gut you like a pig, which one is gonna be?" Lloyd grinned at one of his spies. The man had been working for him for years now, a record that was getting Lloyd uneasy.

He would have to kill him soon.

"I found something interesting, that's all." The man replied, and poured a generous dose of whiskey on one of the glasses that was by Lloyd's coffee table.

Lloyd looked at him, amused.

"I didn't realize you had a death wish, getting yourself comfortable with my Scotch and everything."

"It's not for me, Hansen. It's for you." Klaus replied, emotionless. 

Lloyd sat up, getting tense. Klaus passed him the glass, and he almost gave in the impulse to use it to break the moron's skull.

"I'm gonna ask again, and if I don't get a straight answer my gun is gonna get friendly with your brains." Lloyd took the gun from the holster and aimed at the man's head.

"Your ex fiancée is in a coma".

Lloyd let a breath out.

"And that's all this fucking tension about? Why would I give a fuck about that bitch? It's been more than thirteen years-"

"She has a daughter about that age." Klaus cut the infuriated Lloyd. "She looks a lot like you. Blue eyes, dark hair. Same dental arch..."

The same motherfucking asshole smile. He wanted to complete, but kept his mouth shut. Lloyd was impulsive and unpredictable, and after working with him for long enough, anyone would get a taste of almost getting murdered by him on his multiple mood swings.

Lloyd's head tilted to side.

Oh fuck. 

"So, you're saying that I'm stupid enough to get some bitch pregnant by accident?"

"You popped the question to her, thought."

"I was young and stupid."

"And now, you're just stupid."

"For the sake of our fake friendship I'm gonna let that slide. And why were you even sneaking into her shit, anyway?"

"I wasn't. Do you remember the bounty you collected two months ago on that senator's head?"

"How could I forget?" Lloyd rolled his eyes. "It was a hell of a car chase."

"Well, the senator driver's car crashed into hers."

...

Lloyd really loved irony. But not when it came to bite his ass back.

After Klaus showed him some pictures of you in the hospital your mother were in, not even him could deny. You looked exactly like him, but with long hair and without a mustache in your baby face.

"Fuuuuuck!" He threw the glass across the room, hitting the wall, and getting it smashed into million pieces. 

His sneaky job almost got his daughter's mother killed, for fucks sake. How would he tell you that? Did he even want to face you?

Klaus kept quiet while Lloyd threw his tantrum. Then, he spoke:

"When am I taking you to her?"

Lloyd turned to face him, angry.

"I'm not gonna meet some brat just because I found out she came from my balls!"

He couldn't really care less about your mother. He loved her (or thought he did) and then it was over. It was okay, he got over it. But he was not about to meet a child he knew he never wanted.

And what benefit would he bring to your life, dragging you to his mess?

Lloyd made up his mind. He would just ignore your existence.

"In what room is she, again?"

"301, boss." Klaus replied, trying to hide the smirk on his face.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore him nonetheless. He was neither soft nor wanted to be a dad, but he was a curious motherfucker. So, the next day, first thing after knowing you were out of school, he made Klaus take him to the hospital.

"I'm here to see my daughter. Her mom's on the room 301."

The receptionist, who was not really interested, just pointed directions and waved him off. When he got in front of the door, he almost chickened out.

Oh, come on, he was not to be afraid of some child.

Even if it was his.

So, he knocked on the door. He knew you'd be there. You've never left your mother's side after school hours, and your grandparents didn't mind indulging you.

He heard a soft "Come in!" and took a deep breath before finally turning the doorknob.

It was a lot to take in.

Your mom, the only woman he ever loved, looking small, pale and pathetic. It was nothing like the girl he knew in her teens, bubbly and all-smiles.

Then, he saw you. Looking at him wide-eyed, and how the blue in your irises were similar to his. Your dark brown hair, that would match his if he didn't dye it jet black. Your nose were your mother's: a cute button on your rosy face, as well as your pouty lips.

"Who are you? I think you are in the wrong room."

You inquired. He could tell you were afraid of him. Arms crossed on your chest, biting your upper lip nervously.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm... Your father." It surprised him how he didn't sound anything like his usually cocky self. Your eyebrows rose, and you scoffed.

"Went to buy a pack of cigarettes and never found your way back to my mom?" You sassed.

"That's not fair! First of all, I don't smoke. And second, I had no idea your mom was pregnant! I would chase her to hell if I did. She was the one that left, ended things and disappeared like I meant nothing!" Lloyd pointed his index finger to you, incredibly offended.

"Which makes me think what kind of fuck-up you are if she ran away from you, then." You retorted, and noticed his reddened face.

"What's with all this prejudice? I could be the nicest fucking person you know. Maybe I have an animal shelter, ever thought of that? What if I read to old people in asylums in my spare time?"

"Do you?"

"No, but that's not the point here, young lady."

"Do you know how do I know you are not the nicest person? You said a bad word." You pointed, lips curling upwards.

"You said it first!" He accused, and this time, you grinned.

Maybe your mom left him because he was a man child, after all?

Your smile faded. You looked at your mother, and she nothing about her changed. Not even her heartbeat. You thought that perhaps she would get an incentive having your so-called-father in the room after such a long time.

"What's your name?" Lloyd asked, and you huffed.

"Why are you still here?

"I'm not leaving until I get to know you. My name's Lloyd, by the way. Lloyd Hansen. What's your name?"

"Get out!" You let out an exasperated sigh, regretting it immediately. You've always been curious about who your father were, and now you had the chance to.

"Do you really want me to?"

The pout that formed on his lips almost made you laugh again. Okay, he was charming, you had to give him that. So, against your better judgement, you gave in.

"No, please stay."

Lloyd didn't know if it was the sad way you almost pleaded for him to not leave, but he felt like a magnet was pulling him towards you, and you got up of the chair, sitting on your mother's bed and pointing the chair to him.

He sat and started fidgeting with his fingers.

"I'm Y/N. I'm thirteen. I like to read, but I'm also lazy and my mom's always scolding me to study more. That's me in a nutshell." You finally said, feeling a little disappointed that you had nothing better to say.

"Sounds like a normal thirteen-year-old to me. Have you ever killed an animal?"

"Excuse me, what?"

"Just kidding!" Lloyd said, fast. He noticed the change in your demeanor, which meant that topic probably upset you. He'd make sure to find out about that later.

"Oh my god, have you?" Your jaw dropped, finally putting two and two together. "It's that why my mother left you? You are some kind of psycho that tortures animals?"

"I don't torture animals!" Just people, Lloyd thought. "It was an innocent question, okay?"

"Yeah, you sound really normal to me." You rolled your eyes. "Get the fuck out, Lloyd. Or I'm gonna call the cops on you, being my father or not, which I don't believe you are by the way."

"Okay, in case you haven't noticed, you look exactly like me and nothing like her."

"You're not the only man with blue eyes and dark hair in the world, Lloyd."

"I totally agree with you on that, and this is why I brought this!" Lloyd announced, taking a ziplock bag out of his pocket with a q-tip inside of it.

"What the hell is this?"

"Open your mouth, kiddo!" He grinned at you, getting closer with the q-tip between his index and thumb.

"I'm not giving you my DNA, you creep!"

"Okay, hard way it is." He sighed, almost sadly. "I love you."

Your jaw dropped again, and he took the opportunity to stick the q-tip in your tongue, collecting the saliva. Before you could shriek, he put it back in the ziplock.

"You fucking asshole!" You yelled. "I'm calling the security-"

"Keep your voice down." He warned you, and you whimpered at the sudden change on his behavior. Then, he got up and gave you a smile. "It was nice catching up with you, kiddo. Toodles!"

You were still stunned when he left.

Days went by, and you haven't seen Lloyd since. Part of you were angry at yourself for being disappointed by that, but you just shrugged it off and told yourself it was better that way.

And it was really surprising when your class was over and you saw him leaning against a black car with black windows, with sunglasses adorning his face. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a lollipop on his mouth and that fucking weird mustache still on his face.

"Ready to go home?" He asked, almost bored when you finally reached him.

"Are you insane? You look like a creep! You're gonna freak the other kids out, Lloyd!"

"Okay, I was expecting a nicer greeting from you. Haven't you missed me?"

"No." You lied. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you could be a child molester for all I know."

"All right, now you've really offended me." He threw the lollipop on the curb and took the sunglasses off. "Don't even joke about that, I'm not that kind of sicko. Get in the fucking car right now, and don't make a scene."

Gritting your teeth, you let him open the passenger door for you and got inside his car. It was probably really expensive, with nice leather seats and everything.

"My grandparents are gonna kill you." You stated when he got in the driver's seat and turned the engine on.

"They're not doing shit, kiddo. I paid a little visit to them earlier, and they agreed to let me take you with me for a little while. They didn't even fight, by the way." Then, he leaned closer, like telling you a secret. "I don't think they like you that much."

"Oh, you're insufferable! Did you threaten them? Did you hurt them? Lloyd, I swear to god-"

"I didn't do shit!" He snapped, gripping the steering wheel in his hands. "Your grandparents fucking owe me for screwing everything up for me, now keep your mouth shut and enjoy the ride!"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?"

"Fine!" You screamed in defeat. If he wanted you to stay quiet, you were going to give him the silent treatment. He turned the radio on, with a satisfied smile on his face.

Lloyd drove like a drunk teenager, getting angry honked at in a ridiculous amount of times in just a few minutes. If you were still on speaking terms with him, you would've scolded him for that.

It was when he ran the red light that your panic attack came. You started hyperventilating, feeling sweat in your palms, and you chest tightened at the dread that cursed through your veins.

He side-eyed you, noticing how you were grabbing the seat with white knuckles.

"Hey, kiddo, be nice to my car."

You didn't move, though. You closed your eyes, feeling your head starting to spin. Oh no. You were about to throw up.

"Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to-"

He got cut off by the sight of the tears streaming down your face, and he slowed down. You finally felt your breath coming down to normal, and you sobbed.

Lloyd pulled over on the street, and you opened the door as fast as you could, just in time for you to vomit in the curb. He put his hand on your back and you stiffened, but calmed down when he stroke it gently.

"I'm sorry, kiddo." He felt like a dick. He realized you were probably terrified of cars now that your mother had been in an accident. You kept silent and finally closed the door, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

He drove slower then, leaving town on the main road and approaching the countryside. When he entered a nice trail and stopped in front of a giant iron gate, you almost rolled your eyes. Of course this prick was rich.

The area looked lovely all the same. You could picture yourself leaning against the big oak tree while reading a book, a tire swing on the lowest branch. 

Lloyd finally turn of the car, and turned to you.

"Before we go there let's just go over the basic rules. Not calling me daddy: it's Lloyd for you. Not testing my patience. Not sneaking into my things. And just so you know, I'm not above beating a child. It's better if you know your place by now.

You didn't spare him a second glance and got out of the car, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. Why was he such an ass? It wasn't like you wanted to be there. You were perfect fine vegetating by the side of your vegetating mother.

You followed him inside, admiring the immaculate white floor, the tapestry and all that expensive shit that looked extremely nice. His grand foyer had two staircases, and a giant chandelier hang on top of it. 

"The first room on the left is yours. Mine is on the right. Do not go into my room. Or any other rooms. If you get bored just take a nap or something." He clarified. You couldn't bite back the remarks anymore.

"So you just brought me here to patronize me?" You asked him in an angry tone.

"Patronize you? Oh, your mother raised a little feminist, didn't she? Bet you despise all men and all that bravado." He mocked you.

"No, you're actually the only man I despise, Lloyd. Don't worry. I'll stay out of your way, I don't feel like torturing myself by spending time willingly with you." You spat back and went upstairs on the left staircase. When you got in the midway he yelled at you:

"By the way, the kitchen is free and open 24/7. Don't go starving on me, kiddo!"

You gave him the could-shoulder and opened the first door on the left, looking wide-eyed at the interior.

There was a four-post bed, with luxurious tule canopy adorning with the purple comforter set. On both sides of the bed, twin nightstands that had the same royal-looking lampshades. In the center of the room, a fur round white rug, with a coffee table and two baby pink armchairs around it.

There was a vanity table that was also white on the corner, and the wall facing the bed had two doors. It was probably the closet and the bathroom.

On the other wall, two french windows that had beautiful creme colored curtains. The walls had a flowery wallpaper, and coming from the high ceiling a pending light.

"Pretty fucking awesome, right?"

You let out a shriek, holding your chest in your hand. When did he get behind you? Sweet Jesus.

"Don't I even get a "Thank you, Lloyd, for your kindness"? I did redecorate it, you know. I started doing it even before I got the lab results on your DNA."

You turned your head to him.

"Oh, yeah, about that. 99,9% your father. We still got a lot of catching up, don't we, daughter?"

"It's Y/N for you." You told him and put your bag on the bed, making an acquaintance with it. That mattress would surely be a problem when you'd have to get up to go school. "Where are my things, by the way? I need my stuff."

"Your grandma packed you a suitcase with your things. I threw your old laptop out, and bought you a new one. A new phone too. It's all set up for you. There are new toiletries in your bathroom, and I don't know if you wear makeup or not so I bought anyway and put in your vanity.

That was nice, but you didn't care.

"I want to see my mom."

"No, you don't. You're not spending the rest of your life by her side, that's not healthy."

Your face heated up in anger.

"You don't have a say in that! I want to see my mom! What if she wakes up and I'm not there?" You yelled, and he just scoffed.

"Then I take you to her the minute she does. Now suck it up and be nice for a change, will ya?"

He left and closed the door. You hid your face in the pillow and screamed, crying until your head hurt.

It was almost eight p.m. and Lloyd spend the rest of the afternoon in his office, yelling at people over the phone and doing boring paperwork for Carmichael.

It was a nice distraction, because he didn't knew what the hell he was going to do with you. He would not be parading you in public, he had too many enemies to pull a stunt like that.

Maybe bringing her here was a mistake, he sulked. But he couldn't just let you go, not now that his most trusted man insisted he took a paternity test and arranged a nice bedroom for you in his home.

He could send you away at any moment, thought. He'd never get attached to an insolent mini him just because she was cute and shit.

Oh no. Nope. Not going in that territory. It was foreign, dangerous and he couldn't go back once he got there.

When he looked at his watch he cursed. He'd had to make something for you to eat (and hire a cook). 

Lloyd sighed when he reached the kitchen. It wasn't that he was a malfunctioning adult, but he couldn't cook if his life depended on it. He took no shame in admitting that he ate instant noodles when he wasn't dining at a nice restaurant, but he couldn't let you eat that crap everyday.

He googled an easy recipe. Thank God he'd made time to do the groceries, otherwise you two would have to go out to eat, which was a big no for him.

But he didn't know where his kitchenware was. Or what to cook. Or how to.

Okay, you'd survive with instant noodles tonight, he decided.

"What are you doing?"

"OH MY GOD!" Lloyd screamed, seeing your post-sleep face behind him. "Don't you ever sneak on me like that, I might end up shooting you, you little shit!"

You glared at him.

"Do you own a gun, Lloyd? Are you some mafia lord or something?" You pried, curiously.

"What I do is none of your business, and if someone asks you about me, you'll play dumb, which I suspect it won't be hard for you."

The harshness in his voice made you change the topic really quick.

"At least I'm not dumb enough to not know how to cook a meal. Now get out of my way while I make something for us to eat." You sassed at him and opened the fridge, looking for meat. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but paid no mind to him. 

In thirty minutes, you had the meat seasoned and sitting nicely in the oven, while you made some salad.

Lloyd was sitting in one of the chairs by the counter, angry-texting someone. 

"Dinner's ready!" you hummed, feeling your mouth watering at the smell. You got two plates in the cupboard and offered one to Lloyd, who gladly took it from you and started serving himself. You suspected he was quite hungry, but said nothing to spoil his sudden good mood.

After finishing your diner, you put the dishes away and soaked a sponge with water and detergent before scrubbing them, absent minded.

"When did you learn how to cook?" Lloyd asked you, too stubborn to compliment you.

"My mom taught me when I was tall enough to reach the oven and do the dishes. Told me I had to be independent and all."

"You two are pretty close, huh?"

"Well, she did raise me by herself."

"Okay, now you're just being an asshole."

That earned a grin from you.

Since it was Saturday, Lloyd decided that he would let you sleep until noon if you wanted to. He was reading his newspaper (okay, he was actually trying to solve the crosswords) while the maids mopped the floors and dusted the things.

He was surprised when he saw you dragging your little feet down the stairs, hair everywhere, yawning and wearing plaid pants with a black strap top.

"Slept well, kiddo?"

"Very." You replied, rubbing your eyes. "What are we doing today? And why do you have so many maids? Can I see my mom just for a while?

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Lloyd whined. "Thank God I wasn't around when you started to speak. Must've drove your mom out of her goddamn mind. Okay, how about we go shopping today? We can even have ice cream after, what do you think?"

"What about mom?"

"She's not going anywhere, is she?"

"Fuck you." You spat. 

Lloyd was stunned. He tore his gaze from the newspaper to you, and before he could scold you, you were running back to your room.

"That's not very nice, kiddo!" He yelled. "Say that to me again and I promise you'll be regretting it!"

"Sir?" One of the maids, a middle-aged woman, hesitantly spoke to Lloyd. "The girl was crying."

Lloyd sighed. He knew you for less than a month and you were already being an annoyance. His patience was running thin, he didn't know how much more of you attitude he could take before snapping.

He knocked on your door, and heard you sniffling.

"Go away!"

"Okay, kiddo! I hope you're decent right now, because I'm coming in!" Lloyd announced before opening the door to you with your face buried in the pillow. 

He sat on the bed, and you moved further from him when you felt the mattress sinking by your side.

"I'm sorry." That you are a little drama queen, he wanted to add. "Guess jokes about your mom are off limits, then?"

You said nothing, raising your middle finger to him with your face still on the pillow. He chuckled.

"So, we're even? Because I'm not having you talking back to me all the time, kiddo. At some point I'm gonna lose my shit and the moment that happens, I only hope for your sake that you're a good runner."

Your chest rose lightly, a sound of muffled laughter coming from you.

For a little while, things were good. Great, even. And that's how Lloyd sensed some shit would hit the fan at any moment.

Maybe you were too excited to finally have a father figure in your life, but you were actually happy for the first time after your mom's accident. Lloyd would have a chauffeur take you and pick you up from school, and you'd visit your mom once a week.

Your grandparents would go to Lloyd's house to see you and check on you (you learned later that it was their "arrangement" because Lloyd actually had something to hold over their heads).

You were eating chocolate ice cream while rocking softly in a bench swing Lloyd had people built for you with him on your side drinking his Scotch.

"I killed a cat once."

You said it so casually as if you were talking about the weather, and Lloyd choked so hard on his drink that you had to pat his back. 

He stared at you with tears in his eyes, still coughing.

"Well, it was an accident. I was three or four? I don't remember. Mom had found a cute grey kitten and she sheltered him for a few days in our home. I was so excited to have a cat!" You hesitated a little, and frowned at the memory. "One day, mom was cooking dinner and I hugged the cat. Hard. I suffocated him, and when mom found us she lost her mind."

"She yanked my arm really hard and screamed so harshly at me that I still have flashes of that moment. I cried, because I had no idea what was happening, and I didn't realized I've killed it."

"We never talked about that again, but I think my grandparents found out what happened later, because I spent some time living with them after that. They weren't on speaking terms with mom, and when she got me back they would supervise us and shit."

Lloyd considered you for a while.

"I appreciate us bonding over this happy story, but why are you telling me this now?"

"Because now I realize why she reacted that way, and why she disappeared on you. When you asked me if I had ever killed an animal when we first met, it didn't cross my mind. But then, I had a feeling. Killing animals in childhood is a classical sign of psychopathy. Mom overreacted because she thought I was just like you, Lloyd."

You looked over Lloyd with a little grin on your face.

"Stop being cute, kiddo. And just so you know, I'm a sociopath, there's a little difference. I wasn't sure that was the reason your mom left me, maybe she finally realized I really was fucked in the head in an irredeemable way. I reached out to her only once, and your grandfather got in the way and told me to leave her alone. They told me a little while ago that they knew about the pregnancy and they wanted to keep you from having me around." 

"Well, the effort didn't matter in the end, but okay."

"And the fact that I'm a sociopath doesn't bother you?"

You shrugged.

"Not really. You could be worse, it's not like you killed mom or something."

Lloyd tried to keep his cool. He was fucked.

You tiptoed the stairs, trying to make the smallest noise possible. Lloyd made you pinky promise him that you were going to stay in your room, but you were so hungry! And it didn't help you that he filled the kitchen with your favorite snacks.

You sighed in relief when you got some chips, a Ben & Jerry's cup and a bar of Hershey's. You hugged your food and when turned to go to your room, you screamed.

A man, about Lloyd's age, eyed you up and down, smirking.

"Damn, you're a bit young for him, aren't ya pretty thing?"

You cringed so hard at the way he said it, feeling disgusted. You just walked past him, trying to go back to your room as fast as possible, but he grabbed your arm, making you drop your snacks.

"Tell me, pretty girl... How old are you? Fifteen, fourteen... Wouldn't be my youngest, though." 

You wanted to kill him with your bare hands. With renewed animosity, you kicked his groin as hard as you could, and he let go of you to hunch to his front, wailing.

Before you could react, you heart a gunshot. The man's head blew with the impact, his body dropping to the kitchen floor and staining the impeccable floors. You were so shocked that you couldn't move.

"Go hide behind that door. Don't come out until I go there, you hear me?" Lloyd asked, voice hushed. He was already dragging you to the pantry room and locking you there. "Stay fucking quiet, kiddo."

You heard more gunshots and some yelling, and you laid on the floor, hugging your head as best as you could, your heart hammering in your chest.

All of this lasted maybe five minutes, but it felt like fucking hours. You were beginning to imagine the worse. Maybe someone hurt Lloyd, and he wouldn't come to save you. 

When you heart the lock of the door, you tried to drag yourself under a shelf, dropping everything.

Okay, you were screwed. You screeched when Lloyd's hand forced you on your feet, feeling so relieved that you hugged him.

He froze. And then, he explode:

"What the FUCK were you thinking? Coming out of your fucking room, knowing I had people over? Do you realize how dumb you were? Do you know what could happen to you if they realized you are my child?"

"I didn't know..." you tried to defend yourself.

"I TOLD YOU! I fucking told you Y/N, don't come out of your room when there's people over. They could be armed and they could kill you! You-" he interrupted himself, trying to find words to say. "You're grounded! For the rest of your life!"

"I already apologized!" you cried out, annoyed.

He took a deep breath.

"So what? You still could've get yourself killed!" He started raising his voice again. "If you get yourself killed, what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? Ever thought about that?"

Oh. You just realized it wasn't about you disobeying him (or making he kill so many people).

He cared about you.

"Maybe I would finally be in peace, without you nagging at me every fucking hour." You defied, chin up.

He sighed. And somehow, you knew you were in deep trouble. You swerved from him, his fingers barely grazing on your skin.

You let out a little scream while you ran from him, who was chasing you like a madman. You got in the nearest room and locked the door, breaking in a fit of hysterical laughter. 

You were so fucked right now.

"You fucking brat! Open the fucking door right now so I get to beat the shit out of you!"

"No!" You managed to yell back between laughing and sobbing.

"Get out of that way, I'm breaking this fucking door!"

"I'm gonna throw myself out of the window!" you threatened.

"I FUCKING DARE YOU! You little bitch! We are in the first floor! Go ahead, we're just getting started!"

You yelped when you heard his body colliding with the door, and ran to the window. You managed to escape just before the wood broke under the pressure of Lloyd's rage. You ran through the back of his house, the chilling breeze doing nothing to you as you were pure adrenaline. 

You yelled when he grabbed your middle and threw you over his shoulder, putting you down almost immediately.

"My fucking back!" Lloyd snapped, annoyed and panting, with his hand on his lower back. You burst into giggles. This bastard of a man could have his hands bloody, but how he managed to be so ridiculous doing so never ceased to amaze you. "Think this is fucking funny? The only reason I'm not beating you right now is because I'm tired, okay?"

"I thought we were just getting started." You teased him, and he started to chase you again.

Later that night, Lloyd had Klaus taking the three bodies out of the house. As you scrubbed the floors to clean the blood (Lloyd's punishment for you) you couldn't help but joke:

"You just traumatized me, dude. I'll probably need lots of therapy and shit to recover." 

"I think you'll survive." He replied coldly, leaning against the wall while he watched you.

"I had no idea a head could just blow up like that!" You continued. "I think there's some brain under my nails."

"Shut the fuck up. This is your fault."

"I don't feel guilty though. The man thought I was some plaything to you, he even said that he had younger girls... I'm glad he's dead."

"Not that I'm complaining that you are being surprisingly brave, but I think it's best if we hide your... Tendencies. At least in front of other people. Okay, kiddo?" He said and turned to leave to his office.

"Okay da-Lloyd." You corrected yourself before you could actually say the word Dad. Lloyd stopped in his tracks. "Lloyd, I'm so sorry, it slipped! I promise you I'm never doing that again."

He didn't turn to face you. You thought that was it, he was mad at you but would let it slide. You never saw the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, because all he wanted right now was for you to see him as your father.

It didn't take long for things to go down to shit. Lloyd was having a surprisingly smooth day, going to the city to have a meeting with Klaus and the rest of his minions. He left you alone in the house and when he got back and saw you sobbing on the front porch he something was terribly wrong.

He barely walked out of his car when you came at him, angry and punching his chest with your tiny fists.

"YOU ASSHOLE! YOU'RE THE REASON MY MOM GOT IN THAT DAMN ACCIDENT!"

He couldn't control your anger, tossing and screaming at him, punching and slapping and kicking. And he let you. Because he knew it was what he deserved.

When you were tired out, he tried to hug you, but you flinched away from him, letting such a pity cry come out from your throat that he felt like the Grinch when his heart grew so big it broke into his chest.

He could feel his heart breaking too.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me when I say it wasn't on purpose. My minions were chasing this really bad guy, and his car crashed into your mother's."

You said nothing, the tears rolling down your cheeks, your eyes puffy and nose red. 

"I had no idea of her whereabouts after she broke things off with me all those years ago, you have to believe me when-"

"When you say you were just chasing a bad guy? Like you aren't one? Should I believe this was some sick coincidence, when you are rotten to the core, Lloyd?" you cut him off, the words cruelly coming out of your mouth. "My grandparents are coming to pick me up. I don't wanna see your face ever again. I wish it was you who got hurt, not my mom."

Your grandparents arrived shortly after that, and by their short "Hellos" and "Goodbyes" Lloyd could say they knew everything too.

But how did you find that out? 

Later, drowning the second bottle of Scotch in his office, when the gears in his mind finally stopped turning.

That asshole.

Klaus' lifeless body slipped from Lloyd's grasp. His motivation to reveal the truth about your mother's accident couldn't be pettier. Lloyd always knew that snake would betray him, but he hadn't expect it to hurt so fucking bad.

He got his most trusted men to keep an eye on you, and for weeks he got little news on you, the aching on his heart always there. When he found out that your mom had a brain death, all the hope of getting your forgiveness left him.

Still, he couldn't just leave you on your own.

Lloyd watched as you placed white flowers on your mother's grave, your hair messy and some streaks falling from your bun.

You suddenly turned to him, feeling watched. You rolled your eyes when you recognized the mustache, scoffing in annoyance. Lloyd took careful footsteps towards you, his hands on his pockets.

"I'm sorry, kiddo."

"You already said that." You replied softly, tired of arguing and tired of grieving.

"No, Y/N. I'm sorry I wasn't around to guide you through your early years. I'm sorry I wasn't enough that your mother felt like raising you by herself would be better than doing it with me. I'm sorry for storming into your life and messing you up, and I'm sorry for all the pain I put you through, and I promise you, it wasn't on purpose. I'd never hurt you on purpose. I'm sorry I'm not a good father." He finished, his eyes watering. You sniffed and gave in, hugging him and sharing your heartbreak.

You already lost a parent. You couldn't just turn your back on the other. You turned your head to him, still in his embrace: 

"Take me home, dad. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Lloyd happily complied. This time, he would make it right.

[l0vergirlatheart]

Hello! Idk if your requests are open but I just wanted to get this off my head before I forget it😅

I was thinking a sagau with a creator reader who’s secretly a super-genius( iq of a gods level) who sees everything like it’s a hologram?( stuff like math, science, medical, mechanical, strategies, etc…) how do you thing they would react if they got to see from the creators perspective? Who would find it useful? Who would find it more annoying? Who would be impressed about it? How would take advantage of it in battle?

Ah, my requests are indeed open as of right now! when I first read this I thought of that one woman and the random ass math equations meme :sobs: also childe's is short 'cause idk what to do for him...

anyways, this is a cool idea!! chars. used are : Al-Haitham, Childe, and Kaveh. i love Kaveh sm :((<3

start below cut

AL-HAITHAM

Oh, when Al-Haitham first saw you randomly fiddling with seemingly the air, he thought maybe something might be wrong with you. Maybe you were sleep deprived? Sick? Tired? Slightly delusional? You, of course, noticed he was staring at you and sighed.

"Stop staring at me like I'm crazy and just come over here and look." He quickly nodded and obeyed. He would never even think of taking another moment to stop. He quickly approached next to you, and then out of nowhere, suddenly a bunch of light [color] words, symbols, and numbers appeared infront of you two. He looked at them, hen back at you, and then back at them. What were these? So many equations he'd never seen before... You glanced at his confused face and suppressed a laugh.

How cute he is when he is confused, you thought, smiling to yourself. He was trying pretty hard to understand them, though it was all something only you really knew.

He slowly gained the courage to ask, "What... are these..?"

"Well, my lovely little scribe, these are all problems and formulas from which I've learned. I haven't implemented them into Teyvat at all, of course though."

'Lovely little scribe..?' He thought, his face heating up a bit. "I-if you don't mind me asking, why didn't you..?" 'Archons, did I really just stutter.. how embarrassing...'

"Well, there really isn't a reason for anyone here to learn it. I merely use it so could help me control the events of Teyvat easier. There is no need for anyone on Teyvat to learn such a thing, if they do not possess the power I do." You said, smiling at his reaction to his new nickname.

"I.. see.. That is very.. interesting." He said, trying to process it all as he glanced at you, just to see you smiling at him, and quickly looked back at the hologram. He couldn't handle it-- you were just too much for him to handle. [positively, of course. he loved the creator in a lot of ways.]

"Not as interesting as you, love."

"!!!"

Oh archons, you've broke him!

end : 1/3

KAVEH

you have no idea how down bad I am for this man istg

"I'm surprised you've gotten the hang of this already! N-Not that I doubted you of course, but most people don't learn so quickly! N-No that I mean to say you're most people, you aren't!! B-But I don't mean to try and single you out, nor do I mean to mean to say you're the same--" Kaveh tripped over all his words, trying to make sure they weren't going to offend you at all, but he just kept poking holes in each until he heard you let out a light laugh.

"It's alright Kaveh. I know what you're trying to say, thank you. I've just got a nifty little trick up my sleeve."

...Archons, he loved your laugh. It made him feel so giddy.

"Do you mind telling me? I-I just want to se if I could use it to hurry and finish my work faster, not that I mean to use you or anything, but--"

You could sense he was about to go on another trail of thoughts, so you simply smiled and said, "It is not a trick that can be learned, it's more of a power I possess." He nodded, and internally sighed.

"...Come here, let me show you. I'll let you decided whether it's useful or not." You said, motioning for him to stand next to you.

What an honor it is, to be invited next to the Divine Creator, and how important it is... and how I get too! Ah, happy day! He thought, as he happily sped walked his way next to you. What happened next, made him feel as if he was ascending.

You carefully grabbed Kaveh's hand and guided up into the air, and as he tilted his head in confusion as a blush appeared on his cheeks, suddenly words, numbers, problems, and more appeared on thin air! They all had solutions and such, and he could understand most of them because they were the ones you two were just working on, but others had unfamiliar letters and language, with different numbers and much different ways of solving them.

"So? What do you think?" You inquired, looking at him to see his reaction. He was completely astonished. You did all of this in one day?! Not say he was doubting you or anything, but he'd never seen it before! Such complex things that took him and others so long took you merely a minute or two!

"...woah." Was all he could mutter as he stared up at the hologram.

You chuckled, and said, "There's one more thing I'd like to show you..." And you guided his hand to another part of the hologram, as if you were swiping. Suddenly, a bunch of blueprints and diagrams appeared, and he quickly recognized them. They were his future projects he had planned on! He stared at them, then at you, and then just turned red. Both because he was flustered, and because he was blown away.

You'd been thinking about.. me..? And from the looks of it.. you've been trying to.. help me?!

You smiled and squeezed his hand, and he had to muffle a little 'eep!'

...He did not do very well muffling it. You chuckled and whispered in his ear, "You're so cute Kaveh, you know that?"

God, he loved the way his named rolled off of your tounge.

[i love kaveh to a normal amount i swear..]

end : 2/3

CHILDE / TARTAGLIA

"What're you doing?"

"Solving formulas to see which artifacts are best for this fight." You answered, continuing to move and use your hologram.

"A fight is a fight! What're artifacts really needed for?" He groaned, dramatically.

"For you? To do more damage. Some others do better support, off-field, healing--"

"Yeah but isn't doing so much math boringgg?" He drawed out, he just wanted to fight this [boss] already!

"Do you want to win this fight?"

"..Well, yeah..!"

"Then let me check these artifacts."

He whined, dramatically. He didn't really see why you needed that stupid hologram, it was quite annoying... taking up all your attention when he's right there! Sure he can't read half of those equations, but he can entertain you more than that 'floating screen' can! That's for sure!

Though, Childe wouldn't push anymore. You're the creator, whatever you say goes.

"Aand... done! Now use these artifacts and--" You handed him the artifacts before he eagerly put them on and grabbed your hand before you could get caught up in those stupid little symbols again.

"Let's go, Your Grace!!! I don't wanna wait any longer!!" He semi-shouted enthusiastically, holding onto you gently. You smiled, and shook your head lightly, but silently laughed.

...maybe you could let it slide this time.

end : 3/3

[nkgrimmie]

I'm sobbing - your domesticated cursors are so cute, I love them so much

Do they come in different colors? Patterns like spots or stripes? Please tell me they make little squeaky noises. Can they 'click'/carry small things? (Imagine if Victim's just carried away some important paperwork bc cursors just like to grab and carry things) Do they 'puff up' when they're scared or startled like cats/birds?

I just want to grab one and give it a big squeezy hug. Give it all the pets. Boop it's cute little snooter point. Put tiny little accessories on them.

*sobs* They're just so cute. I love them. I want twenty of them.

hello hi i have no idea who you are but yes they are wonderful i love them. they are perfect little things

okay now to answer your questions (putting this under a read more cause... good lord i talk a lot)

"do they come in different colors? patterns like spots or stripes?"

yes and no! they can come in different colors of course, and their outlines can be multicolored, but markings on the main body of a cursor is actually very rare! typically it's from either scarring, tattoos (some sticks tattoo them), or just a really weird mutation. alternating colors on the outline is the most common way that "stripes" appear on them

leucism in cursors is very common, with melanism being rarer but still prominent. it's very hard to tell the difference between a leucistic cursor and an abino cursor, until you watch the cursor repeatedly fly into walls or ceilings because they can't really see where they're going.

leucistic, melanistic, pastel

the most common appearances, they can be different colors ofc the gray/dark gray/pinks are just placeholders they just generally keep to variations of that. cursor!alan would be an iris-lined leucistic cursor, while little guy would be a blue pastel leucistic cursor

(also fun fact i based their morph names are based off of ball python morph names)

"please tell me they make little squeaky noises"

kinda sorta. i like to imagine that they mainly make clicking or scrolling noises (l-clicks and r-clicks sound different, as do up-scrolls and down-scrolls), with the occasional glass grinding noise when hurt (the best way i can describe the noises alans cursor made when covered in virabots in the Showdown)

maybe if you scared a baby/young one then it would squeak at you. if so, it would probably sound like moth squeaking sounds! so probably not what you imagined, but squeaking nonetheless

"can they 'click'/carry small things? (imagine if Victim's just carried away some important paperwork bc cursors just like to grab and carry things)"

oh yeah of course. that's kinda what cursors are meant for SKDJD domesticated cursors are kinda small though (like the average adult size is about the size of a house cat) so they're not the strongest ^^' if there's like four or five though they could probably pick someone up hehe

grabbing things and stuff like that is actually one of their main forms of play— they love playing things like catch and fetch and stuff

also the thought of victim's cursor doing that is so funny..... they had to chase it around until it got bored and went to go annoy (play with) someone else

"do they 'puff up' when they're scared or startled like cats/birds?"

the babies (EVEN TINIER) have down that's very similar to the down that chicks have, so the babies would definitely puff up like that. not sure on if adult cursors would do the same since i haven't decided the texture of adult cursors yet (i will say that user's cursors probably do have a very different feel to outernet cursors though), but if they had fur/feathers too then they would probably puff up as well

also.. careful! don't hug them too hard! some of them are sharp, ESPECIALLY the wild ones!

god seeing this ask made me so happy i love talking about things...... sorry i couldn't respond to it sooner i was at work </3

^ i drop this at your feet making puppy dog eyes at you

(mandatory "i'm pretty sure i got the idea of outernet cursors from @axyer [don't even remember at this point] i just expanded upon it for my own version" cause if i don't tack this on then i'll get screamed at /j)

[princelylove]

Hello Your Highness!!! It’s been a while from me and I am extremely apologetic. I’ve had the thought of Leone and his addictions stuck in my mind. How does life with him go by with him being an alcoholic? Is there anything he may do while inebriated that he wouldn’t do sober? I love your writing and I’d love to hear what you think about this.

I'll forgive you, this once.

Life with an alcoholic is always going to be hard, especially if you love them. They say things they do not mean, they do things they usually wouldn't do. Alcohol is one of those things that depend on the person. Some people are whiny drunks, some people get really bitchy, some people want to fuck the can it came in, some people look at a stranger twice their size and think 'Yeah I'd win that.' Who knows.

Leone is addicted to harming himself. He just cannot stop. He tries, but he always ends up relapsing, no matter his support system. He always tells himself it could be worse, he could've went for something way harder, but a vice is still a vice, and alcohol hurts him just as much as he craves.

Leone is a crybaby when he's drunk. It's free humiliation. He weeps over the smallest of things- Guido told him to fuck off earlier when he asked for a slice of the pizza they ordered, and he was clearly joking because he still cut it for Leone, but Leone just can't stop. Everyone's so mean to him. Weird guy.

He'll work himself into a fit every time he's inebriated. There's always something to sob over. It's too bright in this room. You looked at him funny the other day. You hate him. He kidnapped you. You like Guido more. You like Narancia more. You think he's annoying. You didn't like the movie he put on. You think the music he listens to is stupid. The oven beeped. There's a bird outside and life is beautiful and maybe he shouldn't kill himself. The doorbell rang. There's a commercial on the television about puppies dying and needing a home. He's a weak man.

It really depends on why he's drinking- sometimes he just cries the whole time, sometimes he desperately wants you to manhandle him and turn him into a whore. It really depends. He's a bit moody, you can't really tell if he's going to cling or if he's going to hide from you beforehand. It's usual for him to both hide and hover, but the touching is new. Some days you may not even see him, other days you can't get him off of you. Arms around your waist, head on your shoulder, buried into your neck. He loooves you, why can't you love him, he's so obsessed with you....

He'll just zone out thinking about you taking him, sometimes. Drink in hand, staring at your face while you talk to him about- God, he has no idea. He just can't stop thinking about you inside of him. If you don't have the proper tools for it, he'd buy you one. A pretty one, with a nice harness, in whatever color you wanted. He'd take a pretty pink strap-on with a bow at the base if that's what you were into. Oh, yeah, sure, he can cook later...

He'd never actually be so clingy with you when he's sober. 'Sober.' He doesn't deserve to touch you, he doesn't deserve to be near you, but it's like his hands move on their own. They never go where they want to go- your waist, your hips, your legs... but they do grab quite a bit. He feels a sort of shame even when he's drunk, but he's genuinely just trying to be as close as possible. He wants your bodies to merge so he can never let you go. He's not being handsy- handsy would be if he groped you, or moved your clothes- he's just being touchy because he loves you.

None of that is really bad, is it? He's not really making moves, because Leone hates himself too much to really go for it. He could grope you, he could force something, but he's never going to. It's always just hugs and shoving his face into you, he doesn't even kiss. Or inhale too much. Maybe just a little.

The issue is when you take it away from him, because he's a giant mush and nothing gets done when he's just making a mess of himself all day.

His hangovers are pretty bad. Usually he makes a 'cure' for himself in the morning and deals with the consequences, but usually that just means another, smaller glass. So resourceful. If he doesn't have any, he gets bitter, and alllll of the hard work he put in to make you believe he's genuinely a mush is getting washed down the drain.

It's probably the first time he outright insults you or tells you to shut up. His head hurts, beat it. Of course he regrets such a thing later- you're divine, he never should've spoken to you like that, but he'll do it again the second he hasn't had a drink in a while. What a worthless, spineless bastard that doesn't deserve you. Maybe he should hurt himself in other ways.

Just kidding, that man is never letting himself run out of wine. The real issue is his lack of consideration for anyone but himself. It's selfish to get absolutely wasted every day and pawn the responsibility of an entire human being onto somebody else. An entire human being, that's probably scared out of their mind, doesn't know where anything is, and probably hates him for what he's done. God. He doesn't deserve grace, of course he always ends up in a pile on the floor. A man of his caliber should never be near good things- he doesn't deserve the clean up. Just toss him in the trash, where he belongs. Ohh, that's too much to put on you, he'll do it himself.

It's nearly impossible to get anything done without him. It's unfair to Guido- who VOICES that it's not fair to him- to put all the housework on him because he wanted a drinky drink. Guido didn't ask for a whole other person! This is such bullshit! He's a busy guy, do your part of the chore chart, dude! They've got a ton of jobs to do- he's not working two different repo jobs in a day just to come home to a sink full of dishes and no spoons left. Grow up, dude.

Leone's darling can make themself useful and help out, but it'd just make him feel worse. Of course you're picking up after him now. He's such a burden.

When he sobers up enough, he'll fix everything without a word, and pretend nothing happened.

[thegreatestsandwich]

I- I just lost my sanity after all of the fluffiness Namor fics you've written.... IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL *sobbing and crying in loneliness*

May I request another fluff Namor fics? If you don't mind, I would like to read how's the wedding going? And I rEALLY CURIOUS HOW NAMOR WOULD PROPOSE HER? Like did he nervous and blabbering? or with all seriousness on his face, he's going on straight proposing?

I'll leave the rest idea to you and I appreciate all of your works. Thankyou so much! Have a lovely day<3

My heart’s been borrowed, yours has been blue (Namor x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader,

Word count: 580 words

Summary: Just three words...Would you marry me?

Warning: Never let Attuma know first

A/N: Okey look, the gif is not optimal quality, second can we just imagine and pretend that instead of Shuri is the reader? Cool, thanks

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

You were confused and weirded out. For some estrange reason, everybody was congratulating you for your engagement. Kids were giving you flowers, a few women gave you advise for your first time as husband and wife, other women gave you advise on how to survive the ritual, men gave you pats on your shoulders and even your mother was tearing up when you came back home, sitting you and pacing in front of you as she was explaining how much hurt she had as she found out about your engagement from hearing it while she returned home.

What was happening?

After you tried to explain that you didn’t know what was happening and your mother not wanting to hear about it, plus she send you to your room. You decided to try and find Namor, perhaps he could explain what was happening. He must know.

You manage to escape from your room, and for some miracle you even went unnoticed from the others. You tried first his cave but discovered completely alone, then you tried his throne room but same, alone. You began to get annoyed.

Namora found you there, lying on the floor and with your eyes closed, she swam to you. “Tuláakal ma'alob in reina?” Everything alright, my queen?

“Ma’!” No! You stressed, sitting up and turning to her. “Le yóok'ol kaaba' in felicita yéetel ma' in wojel Ba'axten!” Everything is congratulating me and I don’t know why!

Namora hummed, offering her hand to help you stand up. You took it with a sigh. She didn’t let go of your hand and guide you to where Namor was. He was there, closer to the corals, where you used to poke at pufferfishes, where you gave him the first rock and the first stick, what started off your path together. Namora quickly nodded at you before swimming away.

“You need to explain.” Namor startled at your voice for a second, turning a around you and offering a nervous smile. “I do not know what is happening but everyone is acting weird.”

“In yaakunaj…” He began but you interrupted him.

“Everyone is saying things and you need to explain.” Your arms crossed over your chest. “What is going on?”

“In yaakunaj,” He tried again, taking your hands in his and letting out a tired sigh. “It was not supposed to go like this.”

“What are you talking about?”

He sighed again. “I was supposed to take you here first, I planned everything but I supposed the surprised is ruined.”

Namor quickly let go of your hands and swam to one of the corals, taking something in his hands before returning to you. “Remember the first stone you gave me?”

“Yes, you really hated it.” You frowned.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I never hated it, I have it displayed in my home.” He grabbed your hand and open your fingers, leaving your palm there, he softly placed a rock in it. You definitely were confused. “It took me weeks to find a similar rock to that one.”

“Why?” You asked, looking at the colors and shine of it.

“That gift that you gave me made me realize that having you by my side is enough.”

You stared at him.

“You were always the one I have been waiting for my whole life.” He laughed, grabbing your hand and kissing it, not letting it fall from his lips. “Would you let me spend the rest of my life by your side?”

[miyaniacs]

Corrupted by Darkness

- Chapter 2 -

Chapter 1 ; Wattpad

A/N: hey again, today was a really good writing day :) I know this chapter is shorter, but the next one is already finished :) if any of you are willing to give me some feedback or comments, I’d really appreciate it <3

My knees hit the ground as I try to hold my body up with my arms. Small drops of sweat color the underneath me, my breath is heavy and it feels like I can’t breath fast enough to give my body the oxygen it needs.

“I need a break.” I whisper as I look up through my lashes. Rhys is standing right in front of me, the blood running out of his nose already stopped.

“Do you know how to control it now?” He asks and kneels down.

“I think so …” I grumble and sit down, resting my arms on my knees.

Thinking isn’t good enough. Noctis hisses.

‘I’m sorry! It’s exhausting to concentrate the energy running through me to another person.’

Well but if you don’t know how to control it and lose your temper again you’ll die.

Looking up, I glare at the giant dragon. I know he’s right, but this power is so much more than the magic I’m used to.

“Rhys this is so much harder than you trying to teach me to not get my mind crushed by someone like you.”

“But I can’t crush yours, can I?” A small smirk plays at his lips.

“No…”

“So you’ll manage to control this power too. - hey Nea. Look at me.” His hand grab your face and force you to look at him.

“Nea. You’ll find a way and until you’ll do so, I’ll be here every single night ready for you to make me bleed.” He smiles and whips away a tear running down your cheek.

“What if I accidentally hurt you?” I start to sob.

“You won’t. You’d never hurt me. Or any of us.” His hand leaves my face and reaches for my hand, pulling me up with him.

“The sun is rising, I should go now … and you should eat something.”

“Hey Rhys?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” I smile and he returns it, before clouding himself in his darkness and disappears.

Go now. Your hunger is rubbing off on me.

‘Why were you here in the first place?’

Moral support.

‘All you’ve been doing, is telling me to do it faster and concentrate more.’

Because I worry about you. You’re excellent at challenging your other powers, but this?

‘ I don’t want to talk about this now.’ Annoyed I turn around and stomp off the field. On my back I still feel the hot air from Noctis huff and stumble forward when he flys off, a bit too energetic.

I tried my best to avoid my friends today, I really couldn’t bear them asking me what is wrong with me and lying to them about me just being tired. Exhausted I fell down in my bed and passed out immediately, until I wake up by Rhys calling me. So I get up and spend the night working on my … blood manipulation… and have my breakfast again, and class, and training with Xaden…and sleep and Training with Rhys again…and so my days go by for the next month. At some point my body gets used to it and everything is more bearable now. So here I am again, standing on the flying field an making Rhys bleed form his almost healed wound again. He told me he got it because Feyre distracted him while training with Cassian.

“Do it again.” Rhys says after his wound closes again… or more like the blood stopped pouring out of it again.

“Isn’t it enough?” I sigh.

“No. Again, one more time Nea.” He smiles.

Focusing my powers, you concentrate on feeling of his blood running through his body, feel how it concentrates on his organs… on his brain.

Do it. A soft voice whispers in my head.

Do it. It speaks again.

It is as if my powers channel themselves, my fingers tickle yet I don’t move a finger. I’m fully consumed by my powers and feeling of Rhys blood in his head.

“N- Nea?” Rhys voice breaks, and his fingers move up to his mouth. Blood starts running… out of his mouth, nose.. ears… and eyes.

“Nea…” he whispers and collapses on the ground.

NEA! Noctis calls inside my head.

STOP NOW.

No… keep going. The soft voice hisses.

DON’T LISTEN TO HER. YOU NEED TO STOP NOW! Noctis screams and throws his tail around, knocking me off my feet. The very second I hit the ground I feel my powers leave. My head is spinning, my ears ring and my breathing is heavy. I don’t understand what happened. Why am I on the ground? Why is blood dripping out of my nose?

NEA HELP HIM NOW! Noctis screams and growls.

Him?… Him… RHYS.

I shoot up and stumble towards him.

He lays flat on his back in a puddle of his own blood. At least the blood stopped running.

Panic starts to rise as I shake him, again and again, calling out his name.

“RHYS!” You cry out, “Rhys please… wake up.”

[emmkitt]

funy thing (LET ME RXPLAIN MY ANSWERRS

a few of these were really hard cause its bad for me to hate things anyways.

fav character; floory. of course. hes awesome

liked by everyone but me; balloon. i just think hes boring and a bit of a bitch sometimes. also annoying. very annoying. but i know a lot of people like him. which is fine. i just. dont all that much.

didnt like at first; i used to be mephone4’s biggest hater, not even kidding. my friends introduced me to ii by saying mephone was basically the fandom sexyman and i was like ‚what. that is a phone’. so i kinda hated him out of spite. but now. Now i understand.

would like to know more about: mephone again. i want more meeple lore.

least favorite character: fuck steve cobs i wanna turn him into popcorn

like the design, dislike the character: okay this one was HARD because i really dont. hate that many ii characters. and the ones i DO hate (toilet, trophy, blueberry,) dont really have super cool designs. so. i did a loophole of sorts. i picked Paper because i havent really watched s1 and therefore know nothing about him. so i dont think i can really say i dislike him. but im a sucker for red + blue color pallets. so THERE.

like the character, dislike the design: i picked groscer because. i like her design. i really do. but man i wish the like trophy bit of her was more cool shape. i mean i understand simplicity but shes built like a cylinder 😭 (DR FIZZ IS DIFFERENT-

similar personality: paintbrush cause i like art and have anger issues. also nonbinary but thars not really a personality thing. i love paintbrush theyre so cool. this is akso probably wrong cause according to my mbti i am most similar to test tube personality wise. ugly sobs

fav ship: floory x dr fizz x mephone4. it may sound like it wouldnt work. and it probably wouldnt. but hear me out

least fav ship: i didnt put anything mainly cause the only ships i really do hate are illegal ones )and i didnt wanna draw that). i mean. theres ships i dont like. but theres not a ship i hate more than any other. if that makes sense

would befriend irl: floory just seems like a friendly guy. theyd do no harm

wouldnt befriend irl: I HATE BLUEBERRY HE SUCKS

okay thats it

[hotpinkboots]

~~~~~~~~~~

~𝓐𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷 w/a Darling Who Praises Him~

~~~~~~~~~~

AHAHA HE'S SO CUTE I'M SOBBING AND EXPLODING WHAT DO I DO WITH MYSELF LOOK AT HOW PRETTY HE IS I *gets shot*

Note: Some of the word coloring is black to match Anakin's theme. I suggest turning on a lighter theme if you use a darker one. Note 2: NO THIS ISN'T SMUT I have to keep my blog (mostly) safe for the kiddos. But, like, it might be a bit suggestive in some places? idk have fun

~Enjoy~

Anakin's Playlist:

★★★★

𝓐𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝓴𝔂𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓻

★★★★

~Oh Maker. This is all he's ever wanted.

~He isn't used to getting so shy and flustered. Usually, he likes to make you all flustered. This is new for him.

~Being a slave, he didn't have much love from anybody other than his Mother, so having somebody to motivate him and love him so much makes him almost want to cry.

~Tell him often that you love him, but tell him in different ways, so it doesn't get repetitive. Creative compliments and praise surprise him.

~You always get the cutest smile from him 🥺

~OMGGGG TOUCH HIM. LIKE. JUST HOLD HIS HAND OR EVEN BRUSH YOUR HAND AGAINST HIS

~Or just having a hand on his back, holding onto his arm, ect. Feeling a gentle loving hand on him makes him so happy.

~Knowing that you're just as in love with him as he is with you?

~Yeah he's emotional

~One of his favorite things is when you cup his cheeks between your warm hands and just stare into his eyes while talking to him.

~You totally have him all mushy now

~Little lingering kisses on his soft lips while you tell him that he did a good job in training and stuff shfjkdjfjdjf

~Hearing it from BOTH you and Obi-Wan build his confidence up. He's like

~omg

~they said i did a good job

~i must be a badass

~Careful though bc he might get annoying and egotistical at some point. He's a smug bastard 🙄

~Like I've stated before in my Anakin fanfiction thingies, hand kisses make him W E A K

~He likes when you kiss his knuckles and wrists

~STOMACH KISSES okay. okay so stfu darlings hold on it's a bit suggestive here

~He's so strong and it's obvious but he's also so SOFT you can squeeze his thighs 🤩

~You know you've gotten to him when you can see him trying to control his breathing. wtf are you doing he's supposed to be doing this to YOU

~HOW DID YOU GET ON TOP

~Anyway.

~You make him feel so special 🥺 He loves to know that you love him so much, and having such praise from someone so special gives him such a warm feeling in his chest. He's used to pampering you, so having you do the same for him leads him to understand your love for him. And really, that's all he wants. For you to love him.

~He takes everything to heart, and replays it in his mind all the time.

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I HAD TO CUT IT SHORT AGAIN DUE TO STUPID SHOULDER INJURIES >:( So just like I said with the 049 headcanons, when my shoulders are healed, I'll be writing more of this. Because I had more I wanted to go into with this but I need to rest 🙄 UGHHH BODIES ARE SO ANNOYING

just kidding sweetheart you should love and be proud of your body it's always working for you and never against you

How on earth do I get off on these little rambles

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Rules/Masterlist (Scroll Down For The Masterlist)!

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⭐REBLOGS⭐>💀LIKES💀

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Join my chat/roleplay server! Here, you'll be able to roleplay, make new friends, and get updates on my fanfiction and upcoming videogames!:

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~Love, PinkBoots

[xxx-sir-pentious-xxx]

A Classic Courtship

Clean relatively, same era relations, heaven, courtship and disability

The heavenly sun shine danced over the cloud field. A beautiful peaceful sight for the Victorian woman. She was half blind, her eye having gotten destroyed when she died in the 1880's. She was to be married then but her groom up and stabbed her.

She never thought she'd find a love and often avoided people due to her eye being empty.

It was when she heard about a genius inventor who came from hell that she felt for once a longing. To be friends? Maybe. She just had to meet him.

Sir Pentious was set up in a old building with adverts stating he could do commissions for his craft. He couldnt do weapons but he offered disability aids.

His first project was for this sweet Victorian lady, her name was Eloise and she looked like a white Persian cat with folded ears.

She had little faith in the project but really wanted to speak to him, his voice was flipping her heart like a pancake. Soft words of affection and genuine kindness was surprising, he was from Hell after all.

"Ssso I'm gonna need to measssure your eye cavity and make ssure your not allergic to anything. Its gonna be great I promissse dear Eloise, you'll be even more beautiful that before I promissse."

Without prompting he took her head in his hands and leaned in to examine her eye making her shiver and laugh,

"Oh goodness! Ah, I wasnt expecting you to just grab me! Fresh... your interesting..."

Pentious quickly apologized and felt guilty for so thoughtlessly touching her in such a way. Not really noticing he was arousing the Lady's interest in him further. It wasnt until she giggled again and blushed with a inviting look that said, 'you should ask me out'. She was a traditional lady she wouldn't ever think to ask for his hand in courtship, that's mens work.

Somewhere in Sir Pentious stirred the romance he was taught in life, he was sure Cherri Bomb wasnt going to come, let alone be in love with him. He decided to take the chance and asked to take her to eat sometime soon to which she shyly obliged setting a date in two days at night fall.

Two days pass

During the two days Pentious had put together a working product that fit his new lady's socket. He just needed to finish the final step of getting the eye color right.

Eloise let him cup her cheek to angle her head in a way as to see the color gradient in her eye as he painted every last detail like a mirror to her current eye. He was artful as could be, a visionary. He was so lost in his muse's face he failed to see the blush burning her cheeks when he leaned in like before. It was just so scandalous, being manhandled like this. It was even more intimate when Pentious finally got her ready to have it inserted after the eye was dried and her head numbed.

She could feel the pressure yes but the relief she felt when the connections were applied to the right nerves and she could see, it was everything.

Pentious helped her blink and finally gave her a mirror after the numbness left. She was beautiful, beautiful and whole again.

"Why.... I... Pentious how.... it looks so..."

Her eyes dilated together seamlessly making her weep with joy. Her precious pawed hand covered her mouth to muffle her sobs of joy.

"I could kiss you Pentious. But that would be greatly unfit of a lady such as I...."

She kissed her paw and gently blotted her soft pink pad on his cheek leaving her lip gloss on his cheek. This gesture made him melt, it was so romantic yet reserved. The giggling they did out of genuine shyness would be mildly annoying to anyone else.

The date came around time and they two lovers ate in a secluded area and chattered about lives and death and of course dead life. After trading addresses and walking Eloise home the two could finally be assured they were eager to meet again.

Eloise began writing eagerly about the day, before deciding to trim some fur to put in a locket to some day give to her lover. Not yet though, they had to take it slowly.

Sir Pentious meanwhile fawned over the kiss still on his cheek, ever so gently shedding that spot and framing it. He simply had to cherish finally getting a lover.

The two slept and dreamt of beautiful things that mainly focused of their day. It was rather eventful was it not.

Cool

[choccyhearts]

I've Found You // Eddie Munson x Succubus!Reader

Note: In case you didn't see my updates, I'm so sorry this fic was pushed back!! I first got sick and then found out the file deleted :( So, this was justtttt really annoying. But here it is ^_^ Eddie and his succubus gf meeting!! Also, I will slowly be posting chapter for this <3

CW: 18+!! Nightmare description (Eddie's), panic/fear, mentions of death/dying, crying, injury, fem/afab!reader, succubi!reader (lmk if i missed anything) ♡nothing sexual yet but succubi fics are no place for minors!!♡

Italics are Eddie's thoughts!!

Panting.

...

Chapter 1

...

All Eddie could hear was panting along with the thunderous boom of each beat of his heart. It was dark, all around him except a grinning moon silently taunting him. His feet pounded against the forest floor but it felt useless, he was still not far enough away.

He didn't know what he was running from. It seemed like he'd been running for a lifetime. Like all he'd ever known were the menacing trees that towered over him, the blackness of the night, and the fear pulsing through his body.

His lungs burned and his stomach ached. His toes throbbed as they bumped into various large sticks and tree roots. Just a little further, just a little further. Until what, he wasn't sure but he needed to take a break or he was going to drop dead, literally.

Taking a quick and sharp turn to the right, Eddie stumbled a bit as he tried to lose whatever was chasing him. He smacked his palm against trees as they whizzed by to help his balance. The bark scratched his skin and drew blood but Eddie didn't even notice. He was too focused on getting free.

Hoping his quick decision worked, Eddie turned his head only to be met with a horrific sight -- an animalistic creature running on all fours, any specific features lost to the night's darkness. But it's eyes, those he saw clearly, they locked on his for the split second he looked back. They were bright, not in an innocent or cheery way, but glowing. And they were a dark yellow, almost orange, color. Something about the way its pupils were blown wide made goosebumps rise on Eddie's skin.

Once sufficiently petrified, Eddie turned back around only to get his foot caught on one of those pesky tree roots. His fall is quick and unforgiving, knocking more air out of him and ending in a sickening snap! Eddie's heart sank as he realized what this little screw up meant.

His jaw shook and trembled as he shifted his body slowly to see the creature coming toward him much too fast for him to even think of moving. Especially with his now broken ankle. Instead, his eyes flowed over with tears as loud screams ripped their way past his lips.

"Eddie!"

As the creature sniffed him, Eddie stared straight ahead, still sobbing but quieter. Maybe if he stayed quiet, it'd deem him as less of a threat, and he could live. He wasn't ready to die. He had a lot left he wanted to do. And he wanted to tell his loved ones goodbye. And he wanted to know how he got here.

"Eddie!"

The creature's breath was hot as it hit Eddie's neck. He could feel droplets of drool drip onto his hand, letting him know it was hungry, and the only thing on the menu was the poor man.

"Please don't... don't eat me. I... I need to go home, I need to see my uncle," Eddie's voice cracked as he tried to speak above a whisper. The creature brushed its face into his hair as he spoke. A chill went up his spine, but Eddie tried to ignore his instinct to run and stay put to try to diffuse the situation.

"Please let me live..."

The creature huffed sharply and nudged its face deeper against Eddie's head. Soft growls escaped the monster's lips as Eddie's breathing picked up. Was there any escaping this?

Bones cracked as the creature moved closer to his face. Eddie sputtered, saliva leaving his mouth as he choked on his own breathing, terrified to move a muscle. A hot, wet tongue glides up his cheek, its breath reeking of death. Eddie wasn't sure if he was going to die from a heart attack or the teeth of this thing.

After the creature's tongue lifted from his flesh, it hovered, allowing its saliva to continue to drip on to him. It mixes with his tears as it slides down his face and to his neck.

"I've... found... you..." the creature croaked out. Its voice was gruff and scratchy.

Eddie couldn't form a coherent thought except for one thing; he was going to die. Actually, die.

"Eddie!"

Eddie shut his eyes, just wanting it all to be over. He whimpered as he was forced to listen to the creature crack its jaw to unhinge it.

And as the meek, cowering man sat paralyzed below to large, cold-blooded monster above him, he-

"EDDIE!"

"CHRIST!"

Eddie's heart rate spiked as his body physically jolted awake, his eyes snapping open and recognizing the sheets on his bed hazily. His brain worked quickly, trying to understand what just happened. His arms ached as someone tightened their grip on them.

He blinked a few times before lifting his head to see his uncle kneeling in front of him, his hands on his arms.

"You alright, son? Heard ya from out on the couch."

Eddie groaned from deep in his throat before responding, "Yeah, I'm alright. I had another bad dream, s'all."

"Some dream," his uncle scoffed, standing up.

"Sorry for making you come in," the man admits sheepishly.

"Was just worried about ya. Besides, it's after noon. You should be up anyway," his uncle teased.

Eddie grumbled and rolled back over, leaving his uncle to shake his head and leave the room.

Yeah, some dream.

♡

It was just after dusk when Eddie's cigarette died. He had been out at the picnic table in the trailer park for about an hour, chain smoking cigarettes and writing in his notebook. He scribbled down various things; campaign ideas for his DnD club, song lyric ideas, random thoughts from his head, and lots of doodles.

It was a cold, crisp October Sunday, and the weather was just right for Eddie. He loved it when it was chilly enough for his leather jacket, but not cold enough he'd to bundle up or something, he despised winter.

As Eddie stubbed out the cigarette, a rustling of leaves and snap of a twig alerted him to his left. His shoulders bounced as he jumped, nerves completely on edge. His eyes moved first, slowly scanning over his surroundings until they physically couldn't look left anymore. Then, he craned his head, his neck softly clicking.

His blood slowly decreased in temperature despite his efforts to tell himself it was just a deer -- a rabid raccoon at the worst. But his gut, twisted and clenched in fear, told him to stop kidding himself. The rustling continued, getting louder and closer. As he stilled like a statue and gawked at the emptiness amongst the trees in front of him, he anticipated... something. He didn't know what, but something was going to come out.

But it didn't.

The trees rustled for a minute more before stopping. His eyebrows scrunched as he blinked rapidly, relieving his eyes of the painful stinging that began setting in. He climbed off the bench he was on and stumbled backwards toward the direction of his trailer. His eyes darted around frantically as his body began to shake just a little bit under his big leather jacket.

"Christ..." Eddie muttered. Just an animal, he thought, just nothing. Get inside.

He tightened his grip on his notebook, bending and warping the pages and dampening them with his sweaty palms. He inhaled deeply before dashing suddenly, his sight trained on his front door. All he can do is run and hope he makes it in time.

But his hope runs out just as fast as it bloomed in his heart. Trying to outrun the creature, he lost his footing. A loud snap echoed around him, and next thing, Eddie was on the ground. He groaned and sucked his teeth, letting out a hiss. Not the first time he'd taken a bad spill but still didn't feel good.

Eddie panted as he lay on his stomach for a second in shock. Behind him, the rustling turns into sprinting. Loud and fast sprinting. His knuckles turn a bright white as he attempts to crawl himself to safety using his hands and uninjured leg.

Eddie shut his eyes, not wanting to see what's going to rip him to shreds. What's the point? It's not gonna save him.

The sprinting stops right next to his body but continues to try to get away. For the first time, he finds himself wishing one of his nosy neighbors was out for a smoke. But it's unlikely they'd even help him. That's why he hasn't screamed for help. If they wanted to help him, they would've. But they won't because whatever's attacking the town's cult leader is probably deserved.

The creature stalks behind Eddie, mimicking his snail-like pace. Taunting me, he thinks. He can hear its breathing, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

Growing tired, Eddie slowly stops his escape attempt. A foot presses on his back, making him still. Eddie's breath hitches as his mind goes blank. He's stuck. He was going to die.

As he cleanched his eyes tightly, Eddie felt his skin heat up and go ice cold in waves, fear filling his whole body until he couldn't feel anything else at all.

"Please...I don't wanna die..." He's unsure if words will work, but if the thing above him hasn't killed him just yet, maybe he can try bargaining with it.

The foot is lifted off of him only to be placed next to his side, the other planted on his other side. The creature lowers itself onto his back gently. Eddie lets out a gasp and wonders if that's good or bad. Before he can come to a conclusion, the creature answers for him.

"Die...?" Its voice is...soft. It's sweet, even. "Do you think I'd do that?"

Eddie stared forward as his brow bone furrows.

"Isn't that why you attacked me?"

"Attacked you!? No! I wasn't attacking you!" The creature leaned forward and craned itself over Eddie's body until it could drop its face down in front of his, looking at him upside down. "I wanted to say hi."

His eyes slowly open and reveal the surprising sight to him. Directly in front of his face was a beautiful woman, the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Her hair was shiny but wild and draped over the two of the like a shield or curtain. Her lips were curled upward into a cheeky smile, one canine peeking out. Her skin was vibrant and full of life. And those gorgeous eyes hypnotized him instantly as they darted around to drink in Eddie's features, too.

She slowly climbed off his back, not breaking eye contact. Despite the strain that had to have put on her neck, she doesn't show any distress on her face. Once off of him, she drops onto her knees on the ground in front of his face. She tells him her name, and he repeats it in a whisper.

"I'm Eddie." And if the universe didn't hate him enough, his voice cracked as he spoke.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie."

Clearing his throat, Eddie continued, "Can I ask what you were doing in the woods, bein' all...creepy and scaring the piss outta me?"

He couldn't remember the pain in his ankle, too busy reeling from the whiplash of the events playing out before him.

"I was looking for you," she said in a quiet voice.

"Looking for me?" Eddie's heart began to pick up again. The girl nodded her head as she moved forward. She set her left hand against his cheek and stroked the flesh.

"I've found you..."

Eddie's breath gets caught in his throat.

"Wh-what, what did you say?"

The girl brings her other hand to his face, tangling her fingers in rogue strands of his hair. She brings her head down to his, and his forehead is pressed against hers. She uses her thumbs to wipe his drying tears. Eddie's eyes fall closed without him realizing, his heart rate finally slowing.

"I've found you...," she repeats.

♡

The first thing Eddie heard was the ticking of a clock. It was a deep ticking, the noise bouncing off the walls due to the emptiness of the room. That was how Eddie knew he wasn't home because he didn't have a clock like that in his room because he didn't like to hear the ticking. Made him feel like it was counting down to his death.

His eyes slowly peeled open, the crusties perched in the corners of his eyes cracking and disintegrating. He turned his neck to the side and saw his uncle slouched in a rather uncomfortable looking chair asleep. He looked down, and while he already assumed he was in a hospital, he wasn't sure why.

He takes in the sight his left ankle in a cast. He groans and drops his head back. Great, just another thing he needs, he thinks. As his eyes stare at the popcorn ceiling above him his brain begins to play the previous events.

The rustling, the chase, his ankle, the girl. The girl. Who was she?

When his uncle finally woke up, he gave Eddie a hug before smacking him softly upside the head. He listened to his uncle chew him out for "horsing around". Eddie apologized, genuinely sorry for scaring him but he was confused.

"Well, I came home and found you by that picnic table with your skateboard out. Told ya to quit bein' so reckless. I thought you were dead but you were just out cold."

Eddie scrunched his nose. His skateboard was nowhere near him.

"What about the girl?"

"Girl? Aw, Eddie. Don't tell me you got yourself into all this for a girl?"

He doesn't remember passing out at all but he knows whoever that girl was had something to do with it.

"Uh...yes, sir. I'm sorry, I...completely forgot. I was fooling around, trying to do a trick on the the bench and I guess I slipped. I saw a cute girl, thought there'd be no harm but, well things just can't go well for Eddie Munson." As much as he hated lying to his uncle, he'd done it enough to get away with it easily.

"Well, get some more rest. Doctor should be discharging you soon."

Eddie laid back, replaying that girl's face. She's found him.

♡

[igniting-quill]

6 10 and 16 for the oc ask game! any character

Great Questions! I’m going to switch up the characters for this one because some of them will be boring if I just stick with one.

6. Is there any significance behind their eye color?

I answer this question with Émilie Eye, my D&D character for @silly-goofy-mood‘s survival campaign.

For Émilie, not necessarily? She’s got brown eyes naturally, but because blue contacts exist, she wears those and presents as someone as blue eyes. So there’s a part of me being like NEARSIGHTEDNESS IN FANTASY MEDIA LETS GOOO, and c’mon Émilie, you really had to do us brown eyed people like that huh.

The Orange eye is that way because it’s the colors of her Patron, Chegg, which is based on the “educational” company behind many a college (and high school) plagiarism/cheating scandal LOL. I don’t think it’s orange most of the time,  just when she casts spells and uses aspects of her Warlock power.

I have yet to play this character. We’ll see if anything changes about this!

10. If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person?

I answer this question with Luxury Quartz, my D&D character for @theccrowsnest‘s WAAX college campaign.

Lux had not just one, but two love interests in this campaign. One was the toxic abusive boyfriend, Vaughn Morelli, and one was the true end game lover, Angel.

I thought mostly about Lux’s relationship with Vaughn, so yes, she was incredibly tailored to Vaughn. The incredible emphasis Lux puts on looks/appearance (especially as someone who works and theater and wants to be a performer) and finding Vaughn hella attractive for example. Also, Lux kinda going hand in hand with being a performer as Vaughn’s significant other.

Also! I wanted to make a thing about beauty causing you to be doomed (especially if you’re fem presenting). I was watching D20′s Neverafter when I was creating Lux’s concept, and that was a huge thing that got me thinking about fairytales and how oftentimes the “pretty woman” is the one everyone is jealous of, pursued without concent, etc. etc.

Additionally, I researched a bit into some toxic couples in media so I based Lux a little off of Maddy from Euphoria: someone who seemingly has a lot of power and control while simultaneously being powerless to a toxic partner.

There’s more that’s all I remember off the top of my head.

16. What is something about your OC can make you cry?

This is gonna be weird, but I’m going to choose Damien Wang from the masks campaign. This character is heavily based off of Damian Wayne from DC, which I have never consumed any canon media of! I already pinged crow, same DM from the prev question.

I’m still crafting this characters backstory, but I have things I want to talk about!

The first thing: what does it mean to be a child assassin and brought out into the real world? You have been used to dehumanizing people your whole life, trusting only yourself and your crew. Now, you’re a kid that has to... socialize? Make friends? Behave “normally” while making references to things you’ve never known about until now? I had this idea for a fic I have yet to write of just... Damien playing Animal Crossing and learning about what it means to have neighbors and a community, especially in a scenario where those no game mechanic to kill any of them. Some people annoy him sure. But also, he’s just, sobbing when someone moves out for the first time.

The second thing, I wanted to talk about a story of loss: losing your heritage, losing your friends, and losing your purpose? These are things that happen when he leaves the cult, also known as the Assassin’s Secret Society.

Heritage: is on Damien losing his language, his culture, and his Chinese mother (who is still part of the cult-like society). Friends: is losing on all the fellow child assassins and members of this society. And finally purpose: when you’re in that mindset you have a goal, get the most kills. Now, what can Damien do? Homework? School? Games maybe, but it all feels aimless.

And maybe that’s why he’s so goddamn angry all the time, you little gremlin.