#like i know he would wear anything for us its whatever but i still care

[oneroomjestershow]

JASGGKJGSDFJH

[strwberri-milk]

Hello, I love ur LADS works <3. Can i request the boys on the day of their and reader's wedding, their reaction to first seeing the dress and their vows in the current timeline. Tysm 🩷

i literally wrote this entire thing and then tumblr deleted it so im so MAD - wrote this w/ reader being g/n bc what if you wanna wear a sick pantsuit to your wedding, focues on the first look/vows!! but i dont write vows bc i dont know the touch of another human also very very slight references to myths you dont need to know them to read this/its not really a spoiler

Zayne took an active role in your wedding planning because you wanted him to. You know he's got his preferences and even though he bends to your will a majority of the time you know that you want as much of his input as possible.

A part of him honestly wanted to be there for you to pick out your clothes for the wedding. He wanted to spend the afternoon telling you how amazing you look and how excited he is to marry you but he knows it would make you much happier to surprise him on the day of. Besides, he has a reputation to maintain as a professional doctor - crying in the changing room is not conducive to such an image, you tease.

The day of the wedding he focuses on the empty space in front of him. He doesn't want to look at the walkway until he knows your day, knowing that the anticipation of your presence would just make him cry. Unfortunately for him when it's finally time for him to meet you at the alter he immediately starts crying. He doesn't even notice that tears are sliding down his face until the officiant hands him a tissue.

You can't help but tease him a little for his reaction but you're crying just as much, bringing a hand up to wipe away his tears as you laugh. He leans into your touch, the two of you sharing a quiet moment until it's time for the two of you to say your vows. His vows are concise yet affectionate, detailing the moment he knew he loved you. It's a day that's just out of your reach, one that you can't remember but one he clearly looks upon fondly.

When it's time for the two of you to kiss he steals the breath out of your lungs. He kisses you hard, passionately as a reminder of how much he loves you. You can't help but blush a little at how intense the kiss was but the way he looks at you is even more intense, thanking you for giving him the opportunity to be loved by you.

Xavier was always happy to give you his opinions for the wedding whenever you asked for them. He might not have a strong opinion but he does definitely have one, telling you that he wants but that he's also happy to just go along with whatever you want. All he cares about is that he's marrying you.

When you come down the aisle he can't take his eyes off of you. He's had a determined look throughout a majority of the ceremony, one you recognise from moments of intense focus whenever he's working. It's his default for trying to stay calm throughout the day, waiting anxiously for you at the alter. Now that you're finally here the look on his face softens, smiling at you as he watches every step you take to him carefully.

His vows are simple, swearing to protect you for the rest of his life. Somehow, you get the sense that he's spent a lot of time working on the words, his speech more formal and elegant than you're used to but it's still perfectly him. He smiles at you softly the entire time, his absolute adoration for you obvious as you listen.

When he kisses you it feels like the first time. He holds you delicately, hands cupping your face as he whispers another "I love you" against your lips. He tells you how excited he is to finally be your husband, promising you again that he'll always be by your side.

Rafayel went all out for your wedding. Anything you wanted he got for you, no questions asked. Surprisingly, he actually didn't have very many wants for the ceremony himself, constantly telling you that as long as you're happy he's happy. The only thing was he really wanted to design your wedding attire, wanting it to perfectly match is. You had to fight him for it, telling him it'd defeat the purpose of it all being a surprise. You end up compromising by allowing him to pick the fabric and pattern - that way you two could still match but he doesn't know what the final product looks like. Besides, he already designed the wedding bands so he wasn't too upset about losing this battle.

His eyes are glued to the head of the aisle, waiting for you to come down it. The second you appear his eyes start watering just the slightest, wiping his tears as he waits for you to come to him. His breath feels like it's been stolen out of his lugs, taking your hands in his when you finally stand across from him. His vows are memorised so he doesn't bother to reach for any notecards.

He promises you the world, telling you that he'll be waiting for you until all the seas in the world dry up and even past then. His words are ardent, almost feverish as he devotes his entire being to you, reminding you time and time again that as far as he's concerned, his life means nothing to you.

After the two of you kiss he buries his face into your neck, holding you tightly as his vows continue. They're simple yet just as devoted, Rafayel telling you that right now, his words are just for you.

Sylus, like Rafayel, spared no expense for your wedding. He has less opinions about the whole ceremony and tells you that whatever you need to make you happy then you have to get it. As long as you want it, you'll have it.

When he sees you for the first time he's rendered speechless. He's got a good poker face though so to everybody else, they just think that the smirk on his face is a warning to you of what's to come but you can see the softened arch in his brows, the way his lips are just the slightest bit downturned in anxiety. You reach out of his hands, laughing softly at the fact that they're shaking. Nobody can tell but you, keeping your hands in his so he has something to ground himself to.

His vows for you are hushed, barely heard by the audience since as far as he's concerned, they're promises that are only for you. He loves you more than anything, and he swears that he'd never do anything to hurt you for as long as he lives. He promises that he'll go along with all your schemes and love you with all of his heart - even though that comes to him as naturally as breathing.

The audience is surprised to see such a soft version of him come out in public, the look in his eyes when he sees you making them all melt. He kisses you softly, holding your face in his hand as he makes sure you understand the depth of his feelings for you while he swears his life to you.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[ang3l0fthursday]

“Take care of me?”

sub!matt sturniolo x Fem!reader

part 2

warnings: smut | no actual p in v | fem!receiving oral | dry humping?| face riding| sub matt x soft dom reader | not edited !!!

matt is blue

reader is pink

word count: 1k

author notes: please let me know if i missed anything + i’m new to this! i welcome any feedback as long as you’re not mean about it!

i open my eyes, the sunset gleaming just right through matt’s bedroom window. i stretch my arms out, accidentally bumping my knuckles on the bed frame, right after i hear my hands hit the bed frame i here shuffling outside the door before it opens, revealing my boyfriend matt, he was wearing sweatpants, a black t shirt and his hair was tousled from filming whatever it was him and his brothers had gone and recorded.

“hi ma, did i wake you?”

“no baby you didn’t just- just coincidental timing i guess” i say while letting out a yawn.

matt turns towards his desk, throwing off his shirt. As he does so i admire the way his arms and shoulders move

god he looks so good.

“what’d you do while i was gone mama?”

matt walks towards the bed, pressing his knee down onto the mattress and making his way over to me, laying his cheek down on my stomach, his hand going to trace shapes on my hip.

“not a lot. i fell asleep about thirty minutes after you guys left”

my hands card through his soft brown hair

before speaking again. “come here baby”

matt made his way up to me, looking down slightly from the angle he layed at. my hands immediately grabbed his face, bringing his face down too me. his lips met mine.his beautifully soft lips.

matt moaned into the kiss, i felt him harden against my thigh.

i pushed him up by his shoulders.

“matty do you think- uhm. that you can just take care of me tonight ?”

he smiled, “ofcourse.”

he pecked me one last time before slowly undressing me, starting with my sweatpants, slowly moving them down my legs while looking up at me. Next he went for my shirt.

i heard his breath hitch when he saw i wasn’t wearing a bra

“god you’re so pretty”

i giggled before he removed my panties and flipped us over.

“matt?”

“i wanna try something new tonight is that okay?”

“okay” i smile at him

“tell me to stop and i will okay?” he pecked my lips before laying down

i gave him a confused expression, then he started moving me up to hover above his face.

oh.

he looked up at me to look for anything sign of a no

i simply smiled, as did he when he saw my response to his worries

his hands wrapped around my thighs, bringing me just above his mouth, i felt his hot breath against my core

holy fuck.

his toungue managed its way to my clit. swirling in shapes i couldn’t identify

“fuck- matt oh my god”

he hummed in response, the vibrations traveling straight through me.

i moaned, moving to rest forward on the bed frame

i tried so hard to conceal my moans so neither chris or nick would hear but it was so hard with the way matts toungue traveled through my folds.

all of the sudden i was hit with a new sensation, matt’s toungue slipped inside of me at the same time his fingers fumbled with my clit.

“fuck! matt- oh my god! fuck that feels so good- d-don’t stop!”

he hummed again, his vacant hand moved behind me

i slightly peeked back to see he was massaging the tent in his pants

“fuck matty you can’t even focus on just me can you?”

he removed himself slightly, his fingers still making circles on my clit, to say “i’m sorry mama i can’t help it sometimes. you’re just so beautiful”

as he reattached himself i felt everything grow tighter. his toungue moved faster inside and on my clit. everything started to feel like it was coming together inside of me. the knot in my lower tummy slowly coming undone

“holy shit matt- i’m gonna- fuck!”

before i could finish my sentence my orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami.

my hips started rocking back and forth, riding myself through my high.

as i felt my orgasm slowing down, i also felt matt start to slow down

“one more baby, one more can you do that for me?”

“of course mama” he beamed that beautiful smile of his up at me before licking a stripe through my folds,my jaw going slack and my eyebrows knitting together

“holy shit matt!”

the though of nick or chris’s hearing me had completely slipped my mind at the moment. it only felt like me and matt existed.

i already felt my second orgasm approaching when all of the sudden matt grunted before flipped us over, my ass landing on the pile of pillows i had earlier napped on and my back pressing against the bed frame

“holy shit!” my left hand carding through his soft hair, gripping only slightly. i don’t wanna hurt my boy of course.

my right hand made its way behind me to grip the bed frame.

i noticed matt’s hips starting to thrust down onto the mattress, faster and faster

at the sight of that the cord in my stomach suddenly snapped, my hips thrusting back and forth to once again. matt helped my ride out my orgasm flicking my clit with his tongue

he pulled his mouth off of me to let out a loud moan, his hips moving up and down on the bed, he gripped at my hips, i pulled him up to rest his head on my chest.

“fuck- fuck fuck ! oh my god!! can i cum mama please?” he looked up at me through his lashes.

how could i ever say no to that?

“ofcourse my sweet boy.”

his face was pressing into my chest, his jaw going slack and his hips stuttered as he wimpered my name.

“fuck! please oh my god!” he panted before slipping his arms under me and he held me tight while working himself through his orgasm

i expected him to stop but he kept going.

“baby don’t overstimulate yourself”

“mmm- fuck!” he thrusted one last time and stopped. he panted against my breasts

“fuck i better go get cleaned up.” he spoke after calming down

“on second thought matty how about i take care of you too.”

[diejager]

begging for more monster 141🙏🙏🙏

hear me out- reader is a host to venom but has it hidden and they find out maybe…?

(i got hyper fixated on blue’s au and SCOURING the internet💀)

What if… Hunter was Venom?

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x venom reader

Cw: blood and gore, canon typical violence, head eating, gaslighting by Hunter, injury, fighting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.4k

Only Human masterlist

Sometimes, they’d find you mumbling to yourself, voice so low that, unless they were a hybrid or had impeccable hearing, they wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was a ne’er silent whisper of harsh words or soft coos towards a being they couldn’t see. Were you talking to someone on your headset? Were you wearing EarPods to talk to someone? Or had you lost some screws in your mind after working with them for so long? None of them truly knew, but they wouldn’t bother you with it when you never bothered them with pesky questions that sounded insulting to them. After all, why would they bother their adorably useful and resourceful medic? You were the beating heart of the Task Force, you made it whole and functioning. Yet, they couldn’t stop the curiosity that festered in their mind, the need to know what made you talk to yourself, mumbling and cursing when you were alone. 

Nothing seemed out of order, you were still strong-headed and scolding them like you did the day before, mumbling about Soap’s recklessness and Gaz’s impending fate of falling out of airborne vehicles. About Price’s habit of working too hard, pushing his already pained body to work. Pulling Ghost by the - bloody and soiled - sleeve to your infirmary with a deep frown and eyes glinting with the promise of retribution for the hybrid that hid whatever ailed him from you; you were the medic for Pete’s sake! It was your duty to watch over them. Hounding Alejandro for his medical check after a deployment because, as handsome and dependable as he was, he liked hiding his wounds. Running after Rudy for his checkups while he was limping or trying to avoid you. Calling after Horanji for his share of the affection, needle, scalpel, bandage and all, he needed and deserved all the others received. Or sitting beside König, reminiscing about your early days, where taking care of your patients was as easy as taking care of König was, grateful and pliant, showering you with love and adoration before, during and after the procedures. 

You had your plate full with them, so it’d be unheard of if you had time to care for others. You might’ve been a medic on base, but your priorities and loyalties lay with them, with Task Force 141 and its allies. However being a - their - medic, didn’t mean you were free from any pain, fear or quirkiness as they were. You were as weird and as awful as every single one of them was, wearing it pridefully on your chest when you stood with them; even if you were wholly human - or you were supposed to.

Ghost caught fleeting moments where a dark mass would move around you, a glistening blob of marble-like texture with silver rivers running across it. It was near impossible to see it when it would disappear once it felt - even the slightest indication - the presence of another living being, like an illusion of trick of the light. That’s what you told them, it was simply a trick of the light or something because you didn’t know anything about an ugly blob. It was told slowly and persuasively with a wince once the words “ugly blob” left your mouth, a pained grimace as if something was grating your ears or claws were digging into your mind. When he brought it up with Gaz - who had impeccable eye-sight, the harpy would agree, spewing words about it having a menacing face with wide, pointed eyes and a mouth full of teeth. Big and sharp teeth that seemed alien-like. It couldn’t have been the trick of the light, especially since both of them saw the same thing. They asked you once more, together this time, but you’d reassured them that they were both tired when they’d seen this blob. You were tired and sometimes saw moving forms from the corner of your eyes too, so it might’ve been hysteria - collective hysteria.

Soap, if he tried hard enough, would sometimes hear a deep voice echo around you. It wasn’t something disturbingly deep, or annoyingly alien, it was pleasingly deep with a smooth undertone to its growls. It would send chills up his spine when he heard it, but he would always catch your voice talking back to it. He’d hear hisses and curses, some more unusual and others more normal: “I can’t eat my teammates!”, “I told you no!”, “Stop eating heads! People will catch on!” or “Can you shut up?” and “I can’t concentrate with you screaming my head off!” Soap, knowing how good Alejandro’s hearing was, asked if the Mexican had heard you speak with an unknown voice, specifically a male voice. A few muffled conversations between you and an unknown man and sometimes one-sided, but, simply put, Alejandro had witnessed the same occasions as the Scot had. It wasn’t unusual to talk to yourself, would it? Soap liked to boost his own morale with confident words and flattering compliments to himself. Alejandro wasn’t a stranger to mumbling to himself either, cursing his choice in life and how he ended up with his - lovable - problem-causing band of vagabonds.

If you weren’t careful or unintentionally careless, there would be a distinct odour clinging to your skin. It would be strong and pungent, the smell fresh and metallic-like. König knew it well, he craved as much as he wanted to bathe in it, the sweet smell of blood. How could he not recognize the faintest whiff of blood when it often drove him mad with bloodlust and the uncontrollable need to fall into a daze of primal hunger? It stuck to you like a second layer of skin, thin and always present. It sewed into the fundamentals of your scent, the tinge of iron mixed into the sweet, syrupy musk. It drove him mad with need, thirsting for the thing that made you smell so delicious. It clung to you as if you bathed in blood, drinking and devouring it, yet your skin was clean, with no speck of red under your nails, on your skin or between your teeth. In a worry, he went to Price, The Captain had the most knowledge about you and König could trust him to take good care of him, being a dragon. He expected the Brit to know something, even the slightest change, but Price hadn’t caught anything odd about you. Perhaps it clung to you because of your closeness to him, Percht hybrids - although rare - were ferociously unpredictable and ravenously bloodthirsty.

Rudy was the more human of them, so he caught on to the changes in behaviours and habits of others easily. You’d act odd at times, shoulders slightly tense and back slumped inward, body tired but unable to relax. He wanted to help, he proposed, but you’d turned him down, telling him you were fine, that you were just restless from being off duty for so long or for being worked to the bone. He would also catch you subtly avoiding them without ringing any bells, seeming occupied with other things while whispering under your breath; your slower reactions to their banter and the darker bags under your eyes, wearing that dazed and blank look in them while you sat with them; or the strong growl of your stomach and the slight rubbing of your stomach, soothing an ache that rooted so deeply in your abdomen. He worried, often, if he was honest. Even Horangi, a man oblivious to most cues and behaviours in humans, saw the subtle change in your behaviour when you acted odd. He pointed out the rings under your eyes, your fatigued and distracted mind, and your lip-gnawing hunger. For a hybrid that had so much difficulty grasping and understanding humans, he caught on to your change abnormally quickly, even with the excessive chocolate consumption.

They were all suspicious and you, their sweet and convincing medic, had them doubting what they saw, your gaslighting working on them as easily as a child bribed with candy. It didn’t make you feel less guilty or disappointed in yourself, but you weren’t sure how they’d react to him, not being human or a monster. He was a creature out of the pages of a sci-fi novel, a creation of the human mind and imagination. Venom was an alien, something from outer space. You were convincing until you couldn’t anymore.

Let me take over, the soothing voice uttered to you, calling out your name in a concerned tone. Let me protect you.

You were compromised, the enemy had tapped into your line, listening in on your conversations and movements. That’s how they were able to separate most of you, to turn the squad of nine operators down to four smaller teams, all on the run and trying to stick to the shadows without calling to the others through the comms. You were crouched over Gaz, whispering sweet nothings to the hissing man. You soothed his ache, hand and mind strained on the bleeding wound on his forearm, his beautiful, bronze skin stained with crimson in the hot and humid air of Columbia. 

Blood rolled down his tense arm, over his round muscle and sweaty skin, it was a clean graze, the blunt head of the bullet grazing his arm deep enough for it to bleed but shallow enough for it not to leave him incapacitated with blood loss. It was a ray of light in your dreadful situation. You had his wound cleaned and wrapped up, congratulating him for pushing through and helping him up. You cursed the enemy, wondering how the low-stake in-and-out ops suddenly turned out to be an extremely high-stake one with minimal possibility of reaching the evacuation point. 

“C’mon Gaz, we need to move,” you whispered to him, holding your rifle closely to your chest while you walked around the shadows of Guaitarilla’s back alley and dark corners. “We need to regroup at the evacuation point.”

“Yeah, good plan,” he nodded, following your lead even though he was higher-ranked than you, but in such situations, survival was the priority. 

You stuck to alleys, using the shadows to hide from the patrolling cartel that had the town surrounded, it nearly baffled you with the speed of their defences and counter-attack if you hadn’t heard of Las Almas’ attack from El Sin Nombre and The Shadows from you teammates. Although you couldn’t admire them, you could respect their skills and ability, you only wished it was for you rather than against you. 

While you watched ahead, Gaz had your back, peering around the corner before giving him the green to move. It was a rotation between who went first and who looked back, but you made it work with only you both. You were so careful, yet it somehow wasn’t enough, someone had noticed you and it sent you and Gaz rushing for cover, to escape the group of dispatched cartel members. It was stupid, running without looking where you were heading towards. It was stupid to let the enemy tap into your comms. It was stupid, the situation you got yourself into. 

You were backed into a corner, Gaz standing before you like a protective shield between you and the enemy, his rifle pointed toward the quickly advancing group. You wanted to protest about him using his wings to cover you, his wide, brown feathers expanded to hide you from those men. He was already hurt from pulling you away from harm, but he was now standing protectively before you. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you, not anymore. 

Little One, his voice rang once more in your head, the reassuring pressure of his presence in your body calming you down by an inch. Let me take over.

If you let him take control of your body, it would ensure your and Gaz’s safety, then you could reach the others that you’d lost in the chaos of the battle. While you wore the combat medic’s patch proudly, your prior training before taking up your 16 weeks of medical training wasn't lost to you. You remembered how to aim and shoot, how to snipe an enemy from afar and protect your teammates from whatever danger you faced. None were lost to you, and you’d use every bit of training you had to protect them, whether it was as yourself or with Venom’s help. Venom’s help was undoubtedly useful, and right now, you needed him.

“Please, Venom,” you spoke aloud, your soft voice carrying through the blocked alley. 

“Who-” Gaz asked, confusion laced his tone, the question left unspoken as Venom’s deep, rattling voice boomed across the tight space.

“We are Venom, flesh bag,” he growled, body crouching down, not dissimilar to a feline laying prone while it waited for the right moment to attack, and pounced at the men.

Don’t call Gaz flesh bag, Venom, you whined, your voice echoing in your shared subspace of your mind.

“If that is what you wish.”

His heavy mass landed on a man, pushing him to the ground with a loud crack. You imagined that Venom either broke his back or a few of the Colombian’s ribs, it was sickeningly delightful, the sadistic pleasure from Venom sent you reading with mirth. His hands stretched to abnormal lengths to swing at the enemies with practised ease and familiarity. Whether they’d die from blunt force trauma from Venom’s strength or live with a concussion, none mattered to him, hunger raked his being, the throb aching in the back of his mind. It was a moment where he was let loose, where you wouldn’t need to gorge on an extreme amount of chocolate to keep him fed. This would keep him satisfied for a few weeks. 

Venom pulled the first two in, his jaw widening to clamp down on their neck. Gaz saw the dangerous gleam of Venom’s teeth, rows of pristine and immaculate teeth the size of a finger bled the man’s head red in a single bite. He shivered at the decapitated body that fell from your monster’s hand as he went for the second and third Colombian. He made a show of viciousness and raw, unadulterated bloodthirst with his eating. Fortunately, apart from the bloody mess and dead bodies, Venom was a relatively neat eater, licking his teeth clean from the red stains with a long, slimy tongue. Gaz couldn’t shake how your monster made him apprehensive, his body flinching and trembling at the greater being.

“Let’s go, The Little One wants to rescue the others,” Venom’s grating voice shook Gaz out of his stupor.

“Hu-Hunter’s there?”

Venom nodded, his mass retreating into your body, the mass melting into you like a second skin. It was as if Venom was never there, as if it was all his delusional imagination. Gaz rushed to you, his hands grabbing hold of you as he shook you in his grasp, he cursed in worry, concern lacing every word he spewed in a tornado of fear, curiosity and confusion. His soft feathered wings cradled you, casting a protective shadow over you as you hid in the darkness of the alley. 

“Gaz, we have to go,” you murmured to him, your voice soft and reassuring, trying to help him walk off the edge you were pushed to. You both were safe for now, the cartel that had followed you all laid dead without their heads in a thick puddle of their viscera. “We have to find the others.”

He let out a shaky sign, his head nodding in affirmation at your comforting words. He loved that about you, that ability to heal and mend their ache and anguish with a smile and sweet words. Then, pairing your softness with your stubborn viciousness made you a gem within the military, a one-in-a-million for them. Yet, all that clouded his mind were questions, about your safety, about that monster that melted into you, about what kind or what it was. Gaz had so many questions that he’d push back for the greater good of rescuing the rest of the Task Force, he’d hound you for answers later when everyone was back together. 

When Venom resurfaced, retaking control of your shared body, he’d reassured you that he knew where they were, his body being hyper-aware of the things that made you smile and laugh. You were his host and his joy. It was an easier job than the two of you - you and Gaz - had expected, Venom’s claws digging into the buildings as he scaled the walls to reach the roof. From then, he pulled nothing back, rushing forward with the same enthusiasm as König had when he led first, and leaped, the muscles of his legs pushing him high across the buildings with Gaz flying beside him. 

Venom had made quick work of the situation, his body invulnerable to anything but loud sounds and fire, which none had since it was a rainy night. You found Horangi and Alejandro first, Venom doing what he knew best: protecting you, in relation, what you loved too, and feeding on human heads, the chemicals in the human brains nurturing him. Alejandro and Horangi were naturally confused and distrustful of Venom, but you had Gaz to smooth things over, and knowing that Venom’s way of speaking was curt and up-to-point - annoyingly blunt - it made your body soar with relief. They, albeit confused and curious, followed you from the ground as Venom cleared a path to the next ones.

Price, Rudy and Soap were the biggest team from your unexpected separation. They jumped at Venom’s appearance, Soap throwing threats at him when he took a step towards them. That was expected, Venom - even being the symbiote you were hosting - was a stranger to them and Soap reacted according to his instincts. That blaring, red light that signalled his brain to send his body on complete guard about the danger, Venom couldn’t escape a werewolf’s keen situational awareness. You’d taken the initiative to calm them down, seeing as everyone was already down,  the enemy loaded with bullets and dying in a pool of their blood. You kept the explanation short and simple, giving them the important points before promising to tell Price everything he wanted to know after you found Ghost and König.

Those two were harder to find, forcing Venom to extend himself to sense the slightest presence of either man. It couldn't be easier that Ghost was a wraith, being able to disappear and appear at will and that König knew very well how to hide, perhaps as well as Ghost could. When Venom found them, Ghost shot first, “shoot first, questions later” seemed to lead his decisions with König not far behind him. He brought his arms forward to protect himself and you, hidden within his mass. Venom growled but didn’t attack them, hissing the words you spoke to him to them. It was a simple quote that you’d shared with them in situations where they needed to find you between the hostages or under disguise. 

Like calls to like.

It was simple, but telling. They stopped the moment Venom uttered them, knowing well you were inside Venom, Gaz landing before him and the others steadily arriving behind the two. Task Force 141 was finally complete, from the most humane to the most chaotic hybrid, some were hurt, grazed, protrusions, and stabbed, but all were alive. You were glad, you were really, really happy that everyone was safe and alive.

Seated in the Razor, the silence and tension were thick within the cargo hold, Horangi and Gaz framing your sides with Price taking the seat across from you. You could see the stress and tension rolling off his shoulder after treating everyone, his brows furrowed and a frown curled his lips under his beard. Beside him was Alejandro and Ghost, both - like everyone else - wearing a confused and disgruntled expression on their face, their eyes gleaming with questions left unsaid. You’d left them wondering if their minds were playing tricks on them, if they were seeing things, if they were imagining things and if they were losing their minds. You understood the anger, but you had your reasons to hide Venom’s existence.  

Price crossed his arms, legs spread wide as he leaned back, his head tipped back with an inquisitively serious look. He raised a brow at you, waiting to see if you could prove your case or if you had anything to add before he started. With nothing to say, you bit your bottom lip, your shoulders screwed with anxiety and fear. You didn’t know what to expect now that your well-kept secret was out. 

“We have a lot to talk about, Hunter.”

“I know, Captain.”

Better sooner than later, leaving it to fester and grow would be bad for the TF’s morale and relations. 

Taglist:  @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness

[sevscig]

guys…i wanted a little drabble to feed my addiction to sev, and i’m missing my cat rn because he’s currently with my mom till i figure my shit out sooo!!!! cat content with sev :33 hope you guys enjoy!!!

|- just some fluff :33 cutie sevika, because i love her sm!!!

ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ

sevika who didn’t want the cat at all when you walked in with the purring creature . “sweetheart. i love you, and i put up with you ‘cause i love you but i do not want a cat.” sevikas gravily voice rang out from the kitchen, almost as soon as you walked in with the fluffy kitten in your arms. you thought he was cute, a fluffy black cat with green eyes, “but i already named him sevvvvv” you whined as you waddled happily over to sevika with the purring kitty in your arms, “he’s so cute baby, why can’t we keep him..?” you pouted staring at sevika with a frown.

sevikas taller frame towered over your own as she wrapped her arms around you . “because, i don’t want to clean litter boxes, and do whatever else you have to do to take care of a cat. don’t be a brat sweetheart.” she said pressing a kiss to your forehead. you held the kitty out in your arms, “but i found him in the rain, look at how cute he isss sev baby pleaseeee.” you protested, and for a moment it looked like sevikas face seemed to soften for a second while looking at the fur-ball purring in your arms, “i can’t just put him back outside.” yet another excuse came from you. “uhh, yes you can.” she said, though you just shoved the kitty into her arms and she tensed.

“just hang out with him, he already likes youuu!!! i’m gonna make us dinner baby.” you smiled, sevika groaned but didn’t protest knowing not to anymore. her arms outstretched with the cat like it was a bomb or something as she walked to the living room, “don’t hold him like that sevika. hold him normally.” you called from the kitchen though you couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping your lips at the obscene picture, you wouldn’t think you’d ever see sevika holding a cat.

she sat on the couch the cat curling into a ball on her lap, every muscle in her body was tense, “i don’t want this thing, what do i do with it ? it’s not like i can go play fetch or some shit like i can with a dog.” she grumbled, her eyes lingered on the soft rise and fall of the kittens belly as it kneaded it paws into her thigh, “ow! you little fuc-“ she cut herself off when she caught a look at you. “fucker…what’s its name?” she asked; her voice raspy as she turned on the tv, ready to watch her show. “it’s theo.” you murmured, “well. theo. is a little fucker.” she grumbled looking away from the kitten purring on her lap, she earned rolled eyes from you, and soft snores from the fluffy kitten in her lap as she watched her show, mumbling to herself.

sooner or later dinner was done, putting pasta on two plates for both sevika and yourself. making sure you poured yourself a glass of wine and sevika some whiskey. “sev baby? foods done.” you called softy, still shuffling around the kitchen for last minute things, you hadn’t heard anything coming from her in a while. humming to yourself as you put the dishes in the sink to clean later and walked out of the kitchen to find sevika. your sevika, snoring on the couch, the tv remote in her hand as theo purred in his sleep on her chest. “and you said you ‘didn’t want a cat’” you grumbled to yourself despite the giggle escaping your lips as you pulled out your phone to take a picture. sevika looked so calm, her face rested in a calm expression, her jaw wasn’t clenched, the usual wear of the day wasn’t creased into her eyebrow, she looked…at peace for once.

and this picture? oh you were gonna use it against her forever when she found out, but for now it would do as your wallpaper, your two babies. your pride and joys.

ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ .:*·゜♡゜・*:.ღ

anywhoo!!! i hoped you guys liked that, it was just a little something because sevikas been on my mind, i haven’t really written much lately but i’m trying to get back into it. i hope yall enjoyed!!! if yall want me to write something just ask😭😭 im gonna try and write more for sev just because i love her sm, so expect more lol😭😭

[feyascorner]

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud. 

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes. 

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs. 

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. ���...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

Tags:@ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @ukeia-uchiha @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

[cutielando]

lucky number 100 | l.n.

synopsis: in which he makes his 100th race extra special

my masterlist

100 races.

If someone had told you that you would be with Lando and see his 100th race with McLaren, you would've probably laughed in their face.

You and Lando have been together for years, you being by his side ever since he started his racing career. You had never missed a race, not a weekend went by when you weren't seen on the paddock proudly wearing your boyfriend's number on your back.

With the COTA Grand Prix coming up, it also being Lando's 100th race in Formula 1, it was safe to say he was more nervous than he usually was.

That is precisely the reason why it was 1 in the morning before race day and Lando couldn't get himself to go to sleep. Thoughts plaguing his mind, all sorts of scenarios regarding the race going through his head.

You had fallen asleep earlier that evening, having been exhausted by the qualifying and everything. However, you woke up a little past 1, stretching your arm over Lando's side of the bed in search for his warmth but you were met with the cold sheets, making you frown.

"Honey?" you called out, rubbing your eyes and waiting for a response.

When you couldn't hear anything, you pulled the covers off your body and took Lando's hoodie that had been discarded on the floor and pulled it over your head.

You opened the door to your bedroom and walked out, quietly searching for your boyfriend in the middle of the night.

You found him sitting on the couch in your living room, watching TV with the volume down with a lost look in his eye.

"Baby, what are you doing up? You need to get some sleep before tomorrow" you said, making your way over to him and sitting down next to him, snuggling up in his arms.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Kept fidgeting so I decided to come out here so I wouldn't wake you up" he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your temple, savoring the feeling of your body snuggled up to his.

"What's got you worked up?" you whispered, trailing one of your hands up and down his chest, knowing it was one of the things that helped calm him down in any situation.

"The race, I guess" he shrugged, not being able to really pinpoint the trouble himself.

"What about the race?" you pushed, knowing he had to get whatever it was off his chest.

"I don't know, I just feel like everybody expects me to win because it's my 100th race and everyone will be disappointed if that doesn't happen and I'll let everyone down"

You nodded your head, understanding now where he was coming from.

A lot of his fans and people in the F1 business are constantly talking about him winning this race, how amazing it would be if he did it and how it has been long overdue, which obviously puts a tremendous amount of stress on him.

If he does deliver, he's going to be on top of the world. But if he doesn't, people are going to judge, they're going to talk shit and judge him.

"You don't have to listen to anyone. Screw what other people are saying, you don't need to put this pressure on yourself. Just drive how you know you can and let the result be whatever it may be. I'm still going to be proud of you, regardless if you end up being P1 or P20, baby" you raised your head and took his chin in your hands, making him look at you.

"You're not going to be disappointed if I don't win?" his voice was so soft and vulnerable, it made your heart break at the thought of possibly being anything but proud of him.

"Baby, no. I'll be proud of you if you finish first and I'll be proud of you if you finish last. That doesn't matter to me. All that I care about is that you are safe and come back to me in one piece. I love you, and I'm always going to support you in everything, but you need to stop letting these things get to you. You know what you're capable of, put that talent to use and have fun"

He sighed but a small smile made its way on his lips before he slowly nodded his head.

"You always know what to say, one of the many reasons why I love you" he leaned in and pecked your lips, bringing you into an even tighter hug afterwards.

"I should consider switching my job as a full-time wag to being a motivational speaker" you joked, enjoying the sound of his laugh filling the room.

♡♡♡♡♡

"10 minutes to go" Lando's engineer said as he poked his head in his driver's room where the two of you were hanging out.

Lando nodded and his engineer left, leaving the two of you alone again.

"This is it" he spoke up, looking at his hands which were fidgeting on his lap.

You took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his in order to calm him down.

"Remember, don't push yourself too hard and risk crashing or getting hurt. It's not worth it. You'll get your win, baby, but don't push it today if it's not meant to be. Be safe, please"  

Lando nodded and gave you a reassuring smile, kissing you deeply after you stopped talking.

You squeezed his hand as you pulled away and stood up, motioning that you should get going.

You walked with him until you got to his car, giving him one final kiss before he got into the car and put his helmet on.

Lando's engineer motioned for you to join him, giving you a pair of headphones so you could be up to date with everything happening.

You all watched the formation lap before every driver got into their respective positions. You held your breath as you saw the lights before it was time to finally begin the race.

Lights out.

♡♡♡♡♡

He did it.

He had won first ever race in F1. 

You couldn't explain the pride and love that filled your heart when he was the first one to see the checkered flag.

He had absolutely dominated the whole race, managing to overtake every single car on the track and maintaining his position when it seemed that he might be under attack.

You don't think you had ever seen him drive better than he did today.

"Y/N! I did it!!!" he shouted as he ran to you, helmet and balaclava already off.

"I'm so proud of you, baby!!" you squealed and jumped into his arms, squeezing him like never before.

"Oh my God, I did it, my love. This is all for you" he exclaimed, holding you tightly and squeezing your waist.

"No, Lando. This is for you. You've been waiting your whole life for this, you've worked so hard all these years and today everything finally paid off. I'm proud of you to the moon and back, baby" you pulled away from the hug just enough so you could lean in and kiss him, pouring every single feeling of pride and adoration for him into the kiss.

"I love you so much" he muttered against your lips, refusing to let go of you when his PR manager called him for some interviews.

"I love you too, my winner"

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[aphroditelovesu]

Since requests are closing in a few days, I just wanted to put another one in. No rush go get it done of course!

I want to request a oneshot/reaction where Alexander gives reader a really, REALLY expensive necklace. Maybe it's a wedding present, a just because present , or something following the birth of the twins. You can decide what you want to do with that 😁!

Also, I keep picturing a necklace made of opal??? Not only is it a stunning gem stone, but it was also thought to be the tears of Zeus in ancient Greece, which would be an interesting tie to Alexander. Again, it's just a suggestion. You can use whatever gemstone you want!

Thanks, and take care ❤️❤️❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally decided to write it. I got a little carried away, so it's a little big, but I hope you like it and if you want to order anything else, feel free, anon! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluff and very soft!Alexander.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,308.

Alexander wanted to find something to give you. Something expensive and extravagant, something that would leave you impressed.

He felt like he owed you that. Not only had you given birth to his children, but you were loved by him and he wanted to please you. He thought of several options: a horse, silk clothes, food and even drink. He still wasn't sure what you might like.

Until he had an idea after talking to Hephaestion. He was the one who gave you the idea of giving you a necklace made from a special and rare gem. And he knew it was the right choice to make.

It was no easy task to get a merchant to have the necklace he liked and deemed worthy of you to wear around your delicate neck, but after the fifth try with a different merchant, he finally knew what your gift should be. He decided to gift you with an opal necklace, a jewel that reflected the beauty and mystery of his passion.

It would change color and he would know that it would look beautiful and graceful on your neck. Everything about you was beautiful and graceful, so the necklace would only stand out on you and no one else.

This opulent piece was adorned with the most dazzling opals that could be found in the entire Empire. Each stone sparkled with vibrant colors, dancing like the aurora borealis reflected in the starry night. The necklace was a unique treasure, a harmony of opalescent hues, displaying hues of celestial blue, emerald green, and royal purple.

The merchant who sold it told him a story about the necklace and it was this story that convinced him to buy it. According to the Persian merchant, legend said that opals were gifts from star spirits, who bestowed their blessings on those who used them with love and wisdom. The necklace was not just a piece of jewelry, but a source of magical power. Its colors and reflections were believed to contain the essence of nature, connecting the wearer to the spiritual realms and bringing fortune and protection.

Whoever owned the opal necklace was seen as a keeper of ancient secrets, an heir to the ancient magic that flowed through the precious stones. It was said that opal possessed the ability to amplify intuition and creativity, allowing the wearer to see beyond the ordinary, opening doors to new possibilities and inspiration.

After this explanation, Alexander knew that this necklace must be yours. Not just because of your story, but because of who you were. From when you really came. No one was more worthy than you.

There was also another version of the story that convinced him to buy it. Knowing how religious Alexander was, the merchant also told him that the opal was made from the tears of Zeus. Long ago, at the beginning of Greek civilization, when the gods walked among mortals, Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, shed tears of joy and sorrow over human fate. These tears, upon touching the earth, transformed into radiant stones known as opals, carrying within them the duality of emotions of the great god.

Thus was born the opal, a legendary gem forged by Zeus' own tears. Each stone was shaped from divine emotions, capturing the essence of heaven and earth. Its unique iridescence reflected not only the colors of the rainbow, but also the contrasting feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair, harmonized in an eternal dance of light and shadow. Ancient sages believed that the necklace was not just a manifestation of beauty, but rather a link between mortals and the gods. It was said that whoever wore the opal necklace would be enveloped in the protection of Zeus and would have the divine wisdom to navigate life's challenges.

And maybe when little Aella grew up, he could give her a necklace similar to the one he chose for you.

He smiled at the thought and with the necklace inside a small wooden box with gold ornaments, he walked to the room you shared in the Babylonian palace. Straightening his posture, Alexander knocked on the door and after hearing a soft ''come in'', he opened the door and smiled widely when he saw you sitting in a padded chair with Aella in one arm and Cyrus in the other. He fell silent when he realized the twins were asleep.

You looked at him and smiled softly when you saw what he had in his hands. Alexander placed the box on a table next to the bed and approached you, carefully taking Cyrus in his arm. You smiled lovingly when you saw him cuddling the baby in his arms.

Whispering, Alexander says, ''I have something for you.''

You smiled and asked curiously, ''What is it?''

Alexander carefully picked up the box with the arm that wasn't swinging Cyrus and placed him on your lap, looking at you expectantly. You smiled and opened the box with a little difficulty due to the sleeping child in your arms. Your eyes widened when you saw the lush opal necklace. You had never seen such beautiful jewelry.

Alexander, who was watching you like a hawk, smiled at you.

''Alexander, that's…'' You swallowed and took the necklace in your hand, carefully observing its details. The necklace was a magnificent piece, a heavenly masterpiece that captivated the eyes of all who dared to gaze upon it. Every aspect of the necklace was a symphony of intertwined beauty and magic.

The centerpiece of the necklace consisted of a main opal, a generously sized gem that radiated an unparalleled iridescent glow. This central opal was an explosion of celestial color, with soft, shimmering hues that moved like an aurora borealis trapped within the gemstone. Its tones ranged from the deep blue of twilight to the lush green of enchanted forests, and occasional glimpses of the deep red of divine fire.

Around the main opal, a series of smaller opals were skillfully arranged, forming a necklace that seemed to have been woven by the stars' own hand. Each smaller gem had its own color personality, some glowing an ethereal blue, others a crystalline green, and still others with purple and gold hues reminiscent of the sun setting over distant mountains.

The structure of the necklace was as intricate as the reflections of the opals. Delicate strands of gold wove between the gems, creating a sparkling frame that complemented the iridescence of the opals. Small, intricate metal sculptures, decorated with designs that resembled star constellations, adorned the necklace, giving it an aura of ancient magic.

''Do you like it?'' Alexander asked after you remained silent, observing the necklace with a strange expression.

''I loved it.'' You whispered, admiring the necklace. Alexander walked over to you and took the necklace from your hands and placed Cyrus back in your arms, careful not to wake him. He stood behind you and removed your hair from your neck, placing the magnificent necklace around your neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the touch of his calloused fingers on your skin and sighed when the necklace was placed on you.

''I'm glad, it suits you.'' He kissed your neck affectionately and you closed your eyes, smiling.

Alexander leaned closer to your ear and whispered, ''When I heard the story about the opal… I knew it would have to be yours and yours alone.''

You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking at him. ''And what is this story?''

Alexander smiled widely and after kissing your forehead, he began to tell you both stories he had heard from the merchant. You just listened in silence, delighting in his words, with your sleeping children on your arm and the weight of the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Your small, loving family.

[cryptidghostgirl]

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List 

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

[kyojurosprettygirl]

lost and found.

Hotaru Haganezuka x Fem! Hashira! reader

It wasn't unusual to see the infamous swordsmith without his yellow and brown haori, it wasn't something he wore religiously, but it was unusual to never see him with it. Nobody had thought anything of it, he probably lost it, or maybe he preferred his new black and gold one, whatever the reason was, it didn't concern them. He was able to get away from its whereabouts for quite some time, but he knew people would find out eventually.

Kanamori had asked him twice before what happened to his Hoari, being his usual attentive self. The first time he asked was out of genuine curiosity and care, if it's lost he'll help him find it. Hotaru brushes it off and says 'it's too hot to wear in this weather.' Kanamori agrees, and offers to give it to his wife to cut and sew the sleeves. Hotaru nods no and that he 'can always wear it in the colder months.' Hotaru thinks about how you had sewn buttons on his Haori, where if it ever gets too hot, you can connect the bottom of the sleeves to the buttons to create shorter sleeves. 'theres no need' he thinks. the conversation shifts, and it isn't brought up for a long time. The second time he asks, is out of wonder, its deep into the cold winter months and he still hasn't worn it, a black with gold embroidery taking its place, practically ridding it of its entire existence. He asks if Hotaru had gotten rid of it, and he simply nods. 'Change is good' Kanamori says, smiling.

Tecchin had asked him once, and only once. He hadn't asked where his Haori went, but rather, where he had gotten his new one from. Tecchin knew exactly where he got it from, but he didn't dare let on and just decided to tease Hotaru with it. 'A seamstress' he states, and Tecchin smiles mischievously behind his mask. 'Okay!' he says, and tells him it looks nice, but he's sad to see his old one go. Hotaru grunts and they go back to work.

Hashiras are well known members of the Demon Slayer Corps wherever they go, they are easy to spot with their difference in uniforms, and simply because everyone just knew them. But you were a new pillar, everybody knew your name and your breathing style, but they didn't know you, nor what you looked like. The entire Corps knew you, but the only Swordsmith who were able to say they know what you look like, was Tecchin and Hotaru, the latter who became your husband after many months of you requesting for his and only his swords. Once you became a Hashira, you sported your black and hold haori for about a year until you had switched yours with Hotarus, corresponding with the change in your last name. If anybody made the connection, they kept it to themselves.

"...it's no wonder he still can't find himself bride!" Kotetsu says, and if Hotaru heard, he dismisses it. "look! he's been revived." Kanamori gladly states, watching Haganezuka get up from his limp position as he begins to speak. "I will take this rusted blade into my care and fix it by using the Nichirin sword polishing art of the Haganezuka family, this surely will be able to restore it!" Kotetsu, in annoyance, states that he should have said that to begin with rather than to scare him and Tanjiro over it like a maniac. Those words had no big effect on him, until the last words slipped out. "Well, I guess thats expecting too much!" sass lacing the entire sentence. "What the hell just came out of your mouth!" He yells, grabbing Kotetsu by his collar. Kanamori and Tanjiro panic to get to his sides, his weakness, until you had made your presence known with the sound of you unsheathing your sword.

"Hotaru!" you softly say, a gentle tone embracing his name.

Kanamori is glad for his mask as it hides his shock perfectly. You had used his first name, so you must know him. Then he notices that your wearing Hotarus Haori. Tanjiro gasps and bows at you. "Hello Miss L/N!" Kotetsu uses the short distraction to get away from Hotaru and hides behind you, not even knowing who you are except from the fact that youre very obviously a Hashira and Hotaru would never hurt the highest ranking Demon Slayer. You bow back to Tanjiro and giggle, "Tanjiro, there is no need for such formalities. y/n is just fine," You smile the snort, "Besides, you got my last name wrong. Has it really been that long since i've last seen you? Hows Nezuko?" Tanjiro goes stiff and immediately apologizes, politely asking you for a refresher on your last name. "Nezuko is doing well, thankyou for asking!" He states, a flustered expression remains. You hum, streching your arms out to show the Haori, "Isn't it obvious? This Haori doesn't look familiar?" Tanjiro, Kanamori, and Kotetsu begin to stare at you, Kotetsu deciding he needed to circle around you three times to come to a conclusion. You laugh, "Haganezuka, its Misses Haganezuka now." They all let out a gasp and Kotetsu asks many questions, them all going unasnwered.

You tease Hotaru, who's stood their stiff the entire time, "My darling husband, my sword his dull," You begin showing him your sword and playfully pout. "Would it be okay if you sharpen it for me?" He grunts and nods, "Ofcourse, y/n, anything you need." He grabs your sword and tucks it away, leaving you to smile at him. You kiss his shoulder and cock your head behind you, "Kotetsu, I believe an apology is in check. He found himself a bride a looong time ago!" You giggle and you swear you see the boys soul leave. You squeeze Hotarus bicep in an apology for teasing him and begin to walk away when you come to a sudden stop. "By the way, I ask you all to please refrain from mentioning our marriage to anyone else, we rather is stay underwraps. We haven't decided on how to tell anyone yet." You smile softely and wish them all a good day.

Kanamori turns to Hotaru, "I must ask, do you both have rings?" You heard it and excitedly run back, "We do, Mister Kanamori!" You take your necklace out from inside your shirt and show him a beautiful gold ring, simple and elegant with traditional designs on it. You giggle to yourself, "Beautifully crafted by the hands of my husband, you can even see his full name engraved on it." Hotaru takes his ring out of his pocket and shows it to Kanamori, its simple and thicker, and the only engraving on it is your full name. You click your tongue and show him your engagement ring as well, It's gold and simple with a diamond resting above it. "This is the ring he proposed with, he didn't make it but its just as damn beautiful." Your eyes gleam with adoration and you sigh. "I must go now, but it was nice to meet you all!"

Kanamori hums, "I was wondering where that Haori went." Kotetsu snickers at that, "She makes it look ten times better!" He begins to laugh. Tanjiro smiles, "It fits her breathing style as well! Shes the eclipse pillar, the designs highlight it!" Hotaru ignores Kotetsus remark and finishes the conversation by switching out Tanjiros blade and continuing his training.

[hearts4golbach]

could you write something about reader and johnnie related to the line 'he love me but he fucks me like he hates my guts' from the song yummy? ty 💕💕

Tease.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings: use of ma, baby, mama, love, babe, slut, cheating, rough sex, unprotected sex (please use protection lol), overstimulation, implied hair pulling.

third person.

Johnnie had never thought of you as anything more than his best friend. maybe he had thought about you late at night, biting his tongue so as not to wake up jake in the room over, but never past that. he had always shooed away the thought, anyway.

ever since his past girlfriend, he had refused to ever think of another person romantically. although, he had acknowledged from time to time how funny, kind, and beautiful you were. he admired you in a friend way, he told himself.

although, whenever you had posted a selfie laying in your bed in the cutest outfit he had ever seen, it made him rethink your relationship.

he thought about the way your face lit up brighter than the sun when you saw him and the way your hand would purposefully graze him every chance you got. how could he be so oblivious? he began to think as his feelings for you grew.

you never seemed to mention other guys until you did. it was late at night whenever you had walked into johnnies room and asked him for advice. you wanted to know how to respond to a flirty text some random guy on instagram had sent, you explained. You thought he was cute and lived just a city over. this infuriated johnnie, as his feelings had been brewing for about 3 months now.

it didn't help that he got to see you every day, not that he was complaining, but it was torture. he frequently thought of you in your booty shorts and oversized band t-shirt early in the morning, making breakfast. or the slutty dresses youd wear to parties every other weekend. dont even get him started on the rhinestone belts you incorporated into every outfit. you had one in every different color, and he believed it was the cutest thing, your little addiction to them. it became too much to bear, and he frequently considered pouring his heart out to you. but he never did. things were going well with the other guy, and all he wanted was for you to be happy.

first person.

"Why are we even hanging all of this up? everyone is gonna be too drunk to notice, anyway." i complained, my arms beginning to ache as i held the decorations of choice to the wall while johnnie pinned them.

he shrugged, his eyes trailing down my body as i stretched. "cause were cool."

"i guess," i sighed, "im so worried, the guy I've been talking to is coming tonight." truth was, i could give a fuck less about that guy. yeah, he was sweet, but he wasn't johnnie. he wasn't anywhere close to being as prefect as johnnie was.

i looked into his eyes, praying he would beg me to uninvite him and be his, but that didn't happen. "Don't be, you'll be good," he responded nonchalantly before turning away to go put up valuables in the house that could be broken.

i stared at him for a moment before turning around and tending to my own work.

"Do you think this dress is okay?" i asked frantically.

"y/n, people are about to start showing up, and you're still trying to get dressed -" johnnie began to scold as he turned around.

his face flushed as he admired me in the dress. his eyes hesitated, staring at the slit in the dress that revealed my thigh and how the cut of the dress complimented my cleavage. he stayed silent.

"...so?" i asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"yeah, its whatever. its good." he brushed me off, going to unlock the door.

i hated how much he acted like he didn't care. i rolled my eyes and walked back to my room to put my shoes on. even though it was my own house, i didn't want anyone looking at my feet, of course. i put on my comfiest pair of heels and went to grab the drinks from the kitchen. i organized them on the table, setting out the plastic cups. i felt an arm wrap around my waist as a presence moved next to me.

"hey, its good to see you." the guy from instagram whispered in my ear. i leaned into his touch, ignoring the growing ache in my heart. "you look stunning."

"Thank you," i smile, "it's good to see you, too." This was only the second time we had ever seen each other in person.

i heard johnnie laughing behind me, presumably speaking to jake. i glanced behind me to see him leaning on the counter. he looked at me at the exact same time. He held his breath as his eyes ran over every part of me before turning his attention back to jake.

i sighed, "you wanna go dance?" i asked, hoping he'd say yes and hoping johnnie would hate it.

his eyes shined with lust, "Of course."

i grabbed his hand and dragged him into the other room, making sure we were still in johnnies vision. the guys hands moved to my hips immediately, pulling me onto him. my eye twitched with anger. i hoped it would work. i hoped and prayed johnnie would give in and make me his, so i had a reason to end this situationship. distractions weren't working anymore.

i kept my eyes on johnnie as he turned to watch. his eyebrows scrunched together whenever he saw the way i was pressed into the guy. his hand gripped the cup tighter, his knuckles turning white. i held eye contact the whole time, my gaze never leaving his as our movements became more sexual.

johnnie turned back to jake, saying something before setting his cup down and walking over to me. "can i steal you for a second?"

"Sure, bro," the guy said, taking his hands off of me and letting me walk away with johnnie.

"what, johnnie?" i groan, "im just trying to have fun."

he pushed me into my room and shut the door behind us and locked it. "what the fuck do you think youre doing?"

"what do you mean?" my heart raced.

"You know exactly what you're doing." he whispered in my ear, his pale arms snaked around me and grabbed my hips. "You've been teasing me for so long."

he pulled me closer. i pressed my hands against his chest. "really? what makes you say that?" i taunted.

"Those tiny jean shorts you wear around the house. you never wear them out, so i know they're for me. and those studded belts you always wear that somehow make your body even sexier than it already is." his hands slid down my thighs and pulled up my dress. it bunched around my waist as he squeezed my ass. "you really think i dont notice all the slutty little things you do?"

i bit my lip, feeling his nails digging into my flesh. "i was hoping you did. ive wanted you for so long."

"me too, mama." he replied before crashing his lips onto mine.

the kiss was rough and needy. he pressed me against the wall, his hands dragging up my body to my tits. he squeezed and pawed at them, not bothering to be gentle. i let out a soft moan on his lips. i felt him grow harder through his jeans as he pressed into me. i began to pull off of his shirt, immediately returning to the kiss as it landed on the floor. he wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing gently. our teeth occasionally clashed as we tried to take as much of each other as possible.

he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before bringing me to the bed. he tossed me down on my back before crawling on top of me. his mouth found the soft spot on my neck, biting and sucking until dark hickeys covered my neck and chest. he pulled the top of my dress down, revealing my bare chest.

he hummed, "god, you're so beautiful." he murmured before taking my nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled over the bud, sucking gently. i moaned and arched my back, grinding onto his buldge.

"fuck, johnnie, let me have you." i pleaded, beginning to unbuckle his pants.

"Yes, ma'am." he complied, pulling his pants and boxers down around his ankles. his hard dick sprung out of his jeans.

i hissed, "shit."

johnnie slipped his middle and ring finger in my mouth. "Spit, baby." i did as he told, licking his fingers before spitting on them. my gaze never left his. i watched as lust overtook his eyes. "Good girl."

he rubbed my spit on his cock, wincing slightly as the friction. his slender fingers slipped through the lace strap of my underwear, pulling them down. i choked out curses as the cold air hit my pussy.

"god, youre fucking soaked." he smriked, "youre going to do so good for me, ma."

he gripped my hips, aligning his tip with my entrance before slowly sliding his cock inside of me. my mouth fell ajar as a soft moan escaped my lips. he bottomed out, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. my walls squeezed his cock, sending shivers through my body.

"fuck," he choked out, "are you okay?" he checked, running his hand over my cheek and pulling on my bottom lip.

i nodded quickly, wrapping my legs around his waist. his fingers intertwined with mine, putting one hand above my head. his other stayed on my hip, gripping so tightly i figured there'd be bruises in the morning. he began to thrust slowly, taking his time with me.

"I've wanted to feel you for so long," he muttered on my lips before kissing me softly. "god, youre so perfect. do you think you can take me, babe?"

i hesitated before nodding. "yes, oh my- please."

he moved his hand, so he had a firm hold on my hips. speeding up his pace, he whispered sweet nothings under his breath. "That's it, baby." his hand flew to my clit, rubbing circles.

my back arched slightly as i threw my head back. he took that to his advantage, his cock driving further into me. "Oh, shit." i moaned, placing my hand on his chest. "johnnie, i-i can't.."

"Yes, you can, love. i believe in you." his eyebrows furrowed. "im not done with you, yet."

i nodded, letting pleasure take over my body. moans and curses flowed out of my mouth. his pace was relentless. my mind was fuzzy, and i couldn't form any words besides his name. i moaned his name loud, forgetting other people could hear.

"you arent worried about your little boyfriend hearing you?" he chuckled in between pants, "youre such a slut, i love it."

"only you," i repeated, "only for you."

"That's my girl," he slammed my g-spot over and over as a knot began to form in my stomach. "youre mine."

i nodded eagerly, "'m gonna cum, baby."

"Me too, where do you want me?" he asked breathlessly. his thrusts became sloppy.

"inside. im on the pill," i moaned out, louder than i was expecting.

"i fucking love you." his raspy voice responded. "cum with me, mama."

his thumb met my clit again as my walls milked his cock, taking every last drop of his cum inside. my orgasm took over my body, making me go limp.

he kissed my forehead. "god, you're amazing," he flipped me over so i was bending over the bed, "give me one more."

all i could do was nod as i was still recovering from my previous orgasm. without warning, he was inside of me again, his quick pace never faltering.

my moans became high-pitched. the overstimulation was a mix of pain and pleasure. his fingers tangled in my hair, pushing my head down into the bed as he hit a different angle inside of me. his other hand gripped my ass as low whimpers slipped from his lips.

"fuck, i love you so much." his sweet words contradicting his actions. i tried to say it back, but it came out unintelligible. he stopped thrusting, balls deep inside of me. "use your words, baby."

"fuck, i love you." i grinded my ass into his hips, "i love you so much."

his cock began to drill into me again as i felt the knot in my stomach tighten again. "You close?" i moaned out in agreement. "Me too,"

my second orgasm hit me like a truck at the same time his did. johnnie collapsed onto the bed next to me. "we'll go shower when everyone leaves." he said breathlessly. i nodded in agreement. i laid my head on his chest and knocked the fuck out.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Can I request the Curtis brothers with a sister who likes to wear stuff not suitable for the 60s like stuff thats revealing and darry has to dress code her all the time and her packing clothes in her bag and changing at school and pony snitching

Summary: The Curtis brothers with a sister who likes to wear revealing clothes Warnings: none Author's Note: none PONYBOY CURTIS He genuinely doesn't care how you dress, as long as its not skirts and tops the size of a belt. If he does see you wearing that he's gonna be sooo upset, like tapping his foot, red in the face cartoon upset. He feels entitled to bossing you around. Ponyboy is literally a little snitch. LET ME TELL YOU. If Darry dress codes you and he sees you wearing that outfit out without Darry knowing, TRUST Darry will be knowing. He's an annoying little brother who will just blurt out things when he wants to. Going up to you at school saying "Darry wouldn't like you wearing that,". You'd always roll your eyes but you know Darry would give you another lecture when you'd get home because Pony ratted you out.

He isn't actually upset about the fact that you wear revealing stuff, he's just a little worried. The socs arent kind to people who dress differently and especially a greaser. He's trying to look out for you, but in the most annoying way possible. SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop doesn't mind you wearing what you want, he figures as long as you're happy that's ok. He'll warn you that Darry won't take too kindly to your outfit when you're getting ready in the morning but won't do anything about it. Sometimes he catches some dumb socs harrassing you and he makes sure that they never mess with you again, walking you home with his DX button-up over your shoulders.

You two don't really interact much about your clothes but he tries to bond over pointing out things and catalouges or shops that you might like. He'll always stick up for you, even if he doesn't agree with your outfit. He will NEVER let a soc pick on you or talk trash about you. He's always on your side. DARRY CURTIS

Darry is pretty conservative, in the sense that he's not super happy that his family is a greaser family and that he wished he could give you all a more luxurious life and keep you away from all the alchohol and fighting, and he tries to get his siblings to reflect that. He never wants to dress code you, he likes that you're comfortable wearing whatever the hell you want and he likes that you're happy. But in his mind he's trying his best to look out for you. He tries to buy you clothes that are a bit more modest, something that you could still like but also won't get you in trouble. He's genuinely so happy when he sees you wear them. He's not used to raising a girl, he's never been one, so he doesn't understand how to do a lot pertaining to you. But he's always trying his best and if you let him know that you see that he'll be forever grateful.

[unluckywisher]

o em gee is it possible to request how caleb would react to us being turning tiny jdjdjdjdj

Of course!!! <3

How Caleb would react if you turned tiny (continuation of this and this):

Thankfully for you, Caleb is passing by just as the fight with the Wanderer ends. Convenient!

"Caleeeb!" you yell to get his attention.

He looks down and blinks in surprise. "...Is that you, pipsqueak?"

Crouching down, he sees that it is you indeed. Although he is a bit concerned, once he confirms you are okay, he bursts out laughing, clutching his chest.

"I didn’t know you could get shorter than what you already were!"

"Stop making fun of me and help me!"

"Alright, alright."

He picks you up with ease and places you on his shoulder. That’d be quite the fall. For safety’s sake, you jump to his jacket’s hood, feeling way more secured.

"You comfy back there?" He looks over his shoulder.

"Yep!" You grab the back of his necklace. "Go, my steed!"

"So you’re treating me like a horse now?" He crosses his arms, refusing to move, but he’s clearly smirking.

"Caleb, could you pretty please take me home?" You poke his neck.

"That’s better."

He takes you back to your apartment, jumping every now and then along the way to startle you, your hands clutching the chain harder with a yelp. He laughs every time.

You aren't in any actual danger, though, since he fully plans to use his Evol to ‘rescue’ you if you ever fall.

Finally at home, he kneels by the dining table to let you jump off.

“That was awful. I’m giving you 0 stars,” you cross your arms, looking up at him.

“Aw, c’mon, it's not like anything happened to you,” he leans on his elbows, his eyes reaching your level.

“It could have!” You poke his nose.

He chuckles, “In any case, care to tell me how you ended up like this?”

You tell him about the Wanderer and its effects, and how they will last until tomorrow.

“So what you’re saying is that I have to babysit you for a full day,” he sighs sarcastically, “like when we were kids?”

“We both know I was the one who babysat you, I’ve always been the mature one.”

“Yeah, right!” He laughs, but stops abruptly. “Since you mentioned it… I have a fun idea to pass the time,” he smiles mischievously.

“But you’re mature now!” You try to correct yourself to stop whatever he’s about to do, holding your hands up. “Very mature! You wouldn’t do anything silly! You wouldn’t!!”

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting on a cardboard box fashioned to look like an aeroplane, flying around the living room thanks to Caleb’s Evol.

“Let me dooown!” You scream, half scared, half thrilled.

“But isn’t it fun? It’s like a free rollercoaster ride! You should appreciate it,” he says, leaning on the wall while waving his hand around.

“I would appreciate it more if you didn’t do barrel rolls every ten seconds, you aAAAAAAH-” Your insult cuts off as the box plummets in an almost vertical drop.

The box straightens just before it touches the floor, rising towards Caleb and coming to a stop.

“What was that?” He mockingly puts a hand behind his ear, smirking. “I couldn’t hear you with all that screaming…”

“When this wears off… You’re toast.”

Having entertained himself for long enough, he takes the box in his hands and lets you down on the couch. He sits next to you.

“When it wears off, you’ll still be more or less as short as you are now, so I don’t see what the threat is.”

You kick his thigh. “You-!”

He laughs, the kick barely feeling like a flick to him.

Huffing, and determined to get some kind of revenge, you jump on his leg. You know exactly what to do. He raises an eyebrow, underestimating any kind of scheme you're about to pull off.

And lo and behold, when you start tickling his sides, the attack takes him completely by surprise.

“W-wait!” He says between laughs.

You don't listen, slipping under his jacket so he can’t grab you and push you away, your hands relentless. He falls on his side on the couch, gasping for air and hitting the pillows while making sounds akin to a broken bagpipe.

“I’m sorry- I flew- you around- Like a toy-” His words fizzle out into coughs.

Satisfied, you stop and get out of his jacket. He inhales deeply.

“Okay… We’re even now…” He sits back up, wiping a loose tear, his face red.

You smile triumphantly, your hands on your hips.

After reaching that truce, you both decide to watch some movies, and he cooks dinner, the meal familiar and heartwarming, even if you can only eat a little bit.

Soon, it’s time to head to bed.

There’s not much to discuss, he plops face-down next to you, his right arm draped over your body to make sure he doesn’t lose track of you, his left arm under the pillow. You shift under the weight to make yourself comfortable.

“Good night, pipsqueak.”

“G’night, Caleb.”

The next morning you wake up to your normal self, but that’s overshadowed by the blanket of a man laying on top of you.

“C-Caleb! It's too hot! Get off!” You attempt to push him away, but he's too big.

“Mmm… Nah, I’m comfy,” he mutters, half-asleep.

“I’m going to melt in here!”

“You weren’t complaining when you were tiny. Maybe we should find that Wanderer again to revert you,” he chuckles.

Fully ignoring your protests, he nuzzles your hair and stays right where he is. You huff.

“If you’re that uncomfortable, we can take a cold shower later.”

Thank you for reading! Here's a silly meme (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

[noellefan101]

Adopting Child!Reader

Characters: Wriothesley, Nilou, Childe, Candace, Itto x Gn Child!reader(meaning this is all purely platonic)

Summary: They adopt you and you're now their child, what do they learn you to do and what do they like doing with you

Warnings: platonic, modern au for the most part, implied char x char in some(you can ignore it if you dont like the ship, or see them as friends), sigewinne is your sibling in wrios, arataki gang being the arataki gang

Note: this is one of those fics that i keep looking for but cant find, so i wrote it myself. i really like reading from a child's perspective but whenever i see a fic were a char has a child and its x reader, its always the reader being the mother which i hate. anyway, have fun reading, luv you.

Wriothesley

Sigewinne is his child, sorry, you cant tell me otherwise(especially when its modern au), so you and her would definitely play together. have a tea party, dress Wrio up in cute ribbons and stuff, kill all your dolls together after one cheated on the other. yk, normal kid things.

Wriothesley caries your bags whenever you need to get home from school, he hangs them over his shoulder while you both walk beside him.

If Sigewinne is a little older than you, instead of being the same age, she would try her best to help you learn stuff you maybe dont even have in school yet, but she just needed to help you with it anyway. she just wants you to be ready for it, and learns it better in the process as well.

He would invite his Boyfriend over for dinner once, and you thought Neuvillette's hair was pretty, though you were a little scared of the man. it turned out to be fine after a few other times of meeting him, and you warmed up to him quite quickly.

I dont imagine he's the best cook, but would definitely learn how to make something if you were sad and really wanted a specific dish. Will also make tea for you both a lot, making sure its just how you like it.

Nilou

I love the idea of Nilou, the sweetheart of sumeru, adopting a child and taking care of it. like yeah, she totally would.

And if you showed any interest in dancing whatsoever, she would teach you some small easy steps. and show you a few of her dances made for shows, if you thought it was too hard. she has her own dancing room(?) at home, and she would happily practice a little with you in the room so you can watch.

She's very supportive of whatever you're interested in, but you will learn to respect everyone no matter what, she cant have you becoming like one of those scholars who want all the creative arts gone. But she would still support you in becoming a scholar if that is what you wanted to do anyway, just making sure you're a nice one instead of those other beings.

Loves to bake with you, and really wants to show you all the best recipes so you can make them on your own once your old enough. but of course she bakes the best cakes on your birthday, and it's decorated with something you like or her and you dancing via a messy drawing using buttercream.

Would make jewelry with you, and then wear some at one of her shows. So the people would see all her professionally made bracelets, and then this very vibrant and childish one shining trough.

She loves matching outfits with you, so she will try her very best to find a shirt in your size that matches one of her dresses, it would be very cute but she respects it if you dont really like it at times.

Childe

He seriously just wants to protect you, and probably ended up saving you before taking you in and caring for you when he learned of your reason for being out there all alone. (picture dark alleyway with cold snow and a few adults with weapons trying to get money out of you or smt)

Doesnt really like the idea of you knowing about his job, but he can't hide it from you the same way he hides it from his siblings, so you ended up knowing pretty quickly. But he assures you he won't let anything hurt you, not even himself.

He would have his parents take care of you when he had to go out for a mission, but you would have to promise to not mention what he was doing or he would just have to hire a caretaker next time.

But it was fun playing with his siblings, and the food was great. Plus it was way nicer to be able to play with other children at home, and not have to go out for it. Teucer also had really cool toys, so you and him play together a lot when you come over.

Doesn't let you near any of his weapons, and doesn't wan tyou near any weapon until your at least 13. He can't have you experience the same things as him, no matter how much he likes fighting, he doesnt want you to grow up like he did. So he won't teach you anything of that sorts, only when he thinks it a reasonable time for someone to learn that.

Cooks all your meals for the most part, and learns you how to cook as well, he can also have you help him cut the easy things like a cucumber. Plus you've been sent to school with what to a child looks like a three-course meal from a five-star restaurant. is also really good at getting you to eat your vegetables.

Candace

She's very good with children, but never expected to take in a child herself. She has both no idea what she's doing and knows everything about what she should do, so its a process for the both of you.

She is very loving and knows to let you warm up to her first, but she gets carried away at times and can end up hugging you a little to much for your comfort. But she makes sure to give you lots of your favorite sweets in return.

Loves dressing you up, and would pick your outfits for your when you had school, but of course you picked an item first and then she jsut picked out the rest. For example; you would pick out a cute shirt with a little red car on it, and she would find some matching socks and nice pair of pants or smt, give you a nice red hat if it was needed.

Goes shopping with Dehya often, so she would sometimes take you with her and will explain everything she's getting, and how to use this makeup and what not.

Dehya also comes over quite a lot, and they both do your makeup if you wanted, or let you decorate them in glitters and stickers if you pleased. You now have a special bag with all your little brushes, eyeshadows and all that stuff at home, just so you dont accidentally ruin theirs. (she would not let you put makeup on too much, only once or twice a week. but then there is also something to look forward too)

Itto

Is very chaotic and should not be taking care of a child, also because he gets in trouble so much. But he can't just leave you out there all alone, no one else wanted you clearly, but they are the perfect solution to that. (they are all basically unwanted as well, so you were just like them in a sense)

But Kuki is more of the parent than he is at times, but thats ok, she's basically the parent to all of them at this point.

Anyway, he loves beetle-fighting, so of course you are gonna learn too. He has spent hours with you outside, finding beetles and teaching you the perfect ways to win over anyone. it's only when Shinobu comes and tells you that its bed time for you that you stop for the day, but you have tomorrow to have fun as well.

It's hard to adapt to being with the Arataki gang, but it is better than being alone, so you can have your own little place to be alone in for a little bit, in a corner of whatever they're staying in(an old house that is really cheap i presume, or a really cheap apartment. maybe granny's place or smt).

Taking care of you honestly got the whole gang to stop their antics just a little, and they don't end up in prison for stupid things as much. Kuki is especially thankful for that, but is still concerned for the gang. They teached you how to depend on others, while you essentially teach them to be more careful of what they do, win-win.

You might have cried the first time they ended up in prison while you were there, Shinobu has now taught you how to bail someone out of jail. You will need this in the future.

im thinking of making a taglist but im not sure, so tell me if you want to be tagged in smt

Thx for reading my lovelies, have a nice day, luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[reverieblondie]

now all ive got in my head is fever pushed confessions. like either zev or rolan taking care of tav and tav is just honest saying whatever pops in their head . its mostly nonsense but out of the blue its just this shameless love confession, is decorated with every reason why they adore rolan/zev and a glassy eyed stare

oh, I have thoughts!

So lets start with Rolan, You are just giggling and letting the fever fully take you over as Rolan is trying his best to get your body temperature down. I imagine that Rolan is really good at dealing with sick people because as an older brother when his mom was at work and cal or lia were sick he was the one feeding them soup and giving medicine. He keeps trying to put the rag on you are your just asking him everything you can think of.

"Rolan, what's your favorite color?" "Uh...don't have one? Blue maybe?"

"Rolan, why do you wear your hair like that?" "Well, helps keep the hair out of my eyes." cut to you pulling out the tie and he just sighs and laughs as as your burying your hands in his soft hair.

"You have pretty hair..." "Thank you" "And a pretty face..." Rolan looks at you with a smirk, yeah your fever is bad, "Thank you. Let me get you so medicine."

As Rolan gets up that's when you reach out and grab his robe forcing him to turn back, "What? need something else?" You look at him with all sincerity, "You know I love you right?" Rolans first instinct is to chuckle it off but...your serious... "I- Tav..."

"And its not just because your pretty either... your hard working and kind and you do your best to take care of the people you care about... I even love when your being cocky and suave, then shy and nerdy...I just love every bit of you..." Rolan sits down and carefully cups your cheek, "When your fever breaks, tell all this to me again so I can tell you how much I love you, even when your pestering and playing hero, or even when your acting silly from a fever, I love every part of you. Deal?"

You eagerly nod and Rolan then goes to get your medicine. but as soon as he slips from the room he is leaning against the wall holding his chest, Y-You love him...and your going to confess again... he needs to heal you faster!

Okay now for Zevlor,

Zevlor is not so used to helping sick people but he's not completely lost either. Zevlor has given fed you, wrapped you in blankets and has given you medicine that should sooth your fever and let you rest. Its while he is rising from his chair next to your bed that your meek voice is calling for him, he is immediately at you side ready to run anywhere to get you anything you need.

"Zevlor...I am still so cold..." Zevlor frowns as he presses his hand to your head, "I know Tav I am sorry...but I am out of blankets I could find do you ha-"

"Will you lay with me...please?" Zevlor is frozen...he knows he shouldn't and he's trying to think of an accuse why he shouldn't but he just can't think of one...so he agrees and sides in. Your quick to wrap yourself around his warm body your shivering getting less as he holds you back, albeit timidly.

"Your..so warm.." You say into his chest, Zevlor is trying to to explode, it's not that he hasn't been in a persons bed...but this is you...and its been such a long time, he doesn't want to read into anything... "ha, yeah infernal blood makes me warmer than most, its terrible in the summer months."

This gets a chuckle as you hold him tighter, "I wouldn't mind cuddling you in the summer...I would want to be wrapped in your arms anytime you would let me..." Zevlor is praying you can't hear his racing heart, "I'm sure you would grow tired of something like that."

you laugh, "Why would I get tired being held by the man I love? I love you so much that no matter what i would always want to be in your arms..."

Zevlor holds you tighter, "Y-you love me?"

"Very much..."

Zevlor swallows the lump in his throat before he finds that old confidence he had in his younger years, "Tav, I love you." but all he hears in response is a soft snoring...

he chuckles and places a kiss to your head, vowing to himself to confess to you again when he finally asks you on a date...

Those are my thoughts!