#making brooding in the dark look fashionable

[periodcostumefantasylover]

Ben Barnes as the Darkling in his black golden kefta in Shadow and Bone Season 2

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[nezuscribe]

toji x reader (mdni, 18+)

your parents set you up to marry some snobby rich guy when all you want is toji (toji is uncharacteristically soft in this get over it)

“toji! toji, would you please open the door!" your fist pounded on the red chipped paint, sopping wet as the rain pelted down your face, mixing with some of your tears as you shivered in your thin shirt, clearly not dressed for the occasion.

you didn't know if he was home or not, but you were desperately hoping that he was.

you knew it was wrong coming back to this place, especially since the last time you saw him you told him to never look at you again, but you didn't know anywhere else to go in this town.

the field around you moved violently with the winds, and the porch light was still off. his old mustang was parked outside, so you knew he had to be in there, somewhere.

"toji, please, i'm freezing and it's dark!"

you were sure that if he didn’t open up you’d have to make some room in the little shed he had in the front because there was no way you’d be driving home alive with the rain about to come, but before you went plotting about how to fashion a tarp into a blanket, the door swung open.

the first thing you noticed was that he didn’t seem too pleased to see you, his eyes blazing into a glare, brows furrowed down the middle as the two of you just looked at each other.

it had been weeks since you had last seen him, and if you didn’t know any better, the dark circles under his eyes might have mirrored yours.

you longed to kiss it.

"why are-" he couldn't finish his sentence as you hurled yourself into his chest, your arms gripping onto him as he stumbled back inside.

you never would have thought that you’d miss the faint smell of smoke, or the whiskey lingering around his lips, but you hoped that it would never leave your memory.

sobbing as you clung onto him tightly, you had no idea what expression had taken over his face. was he angry or shocked? you knew you were getting his shirt wet, your fingers gripping onto his back as he stayed quiet, the only thing filling the vacant room being your wet sniffles.

slowly, you felt him move around a bit, giving in as he pulled you deeper into his chest. he patted your back as he shut the door behind you, eyes darting over your figure to make sure everything was okay.

"you okay?"

you shook your head, still hiding in his chest, and he nodded. he knew that much, but at least you had the vicinity to reply. he was worried that you had been petrified.

"want some tea?'

you shook your head again, still clinging onto him, perhaps even tighter than before.

he took in a sharp breath, not knowing what to do with you. it had been weeks since he last saw you, although, in a much different state.

"sweetheart," he muttered lifting your chin up with his thumb so he could see your face, the air knocking out of his lungs as he was once reminded of just how beautiful you are, even with tear tracks down your cheeks, "you 'gotta talk to me."

you sniffled, your lashes fluttering up and down as you fell back on his chest, your cheeks smushed in and your breaths came out in heaves.

"daddy set me up with him," you finally said, voice coming out muffled, "the wedding's in december."

his grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you in impossibly closer to him.

toji had been your "summer fling", or so your parents liked to call him. your parents had bought a summer home a couple of years ago and so every year since then, for a couple of months, you and your family would stay in this little town.

this year shouldn't have been different from the last one. in fact, the first couple of weeks there are fine. you easily find some people within your parent's circle, but it wasn't fun yet, it wasn't summer.

that is until you bump into a man who's friends with your friend's boyfriend (he was also third-wheeling with you on their date).

he's tall and brooding and most definitely wouldn't have looked your way if not for the predicament you were in. he gave the aura that he hated old money and you along with it, but for some reason, the scar on his lip twitched into a tiny smile as you kept up with his humor with witty remarks.

weeks following that were filled with him chasing after you as you giggled uncontrollably, not used to the giddy feeling that filled your chest whenever he tackled you down, holding you close to his chest as he littered kissed all over your face.

you knew it was wrong, at least by your parent's standards, but you didn't care all that much. you liked the dirt under his nails and the gruffness in his voice, it was so different from the guys you grew up with.

and despite his outward appearance he was so sweet. he may not have shown it much, but he held you close to him, attached by the waist as he whispered lame jokes in your ear and bought you caramel apples whenever you craved them.

it could have been puppy love but deep down you knew it wasn't. his lips lingered far too long for puppy love

and when your parents found out they were livid. it was a complete disgrace for somebody with the likes of you to be fooling around with somebody from the likes of him, and it only took a few meetings with your parents and a few arguments that left you in tears in him seething before you broke it off, promising that if you ever saw him again you'd shave his head.

but here you were, and his head was still full of hair.

"what's his name?" he asked, his voice gruff, and heavy as you looked up, wiping your nose again as you blinked.

"um," you racked your mind for a few hours ago, the screaming match you had with your parents fresh in your head as you gnawed on your lip, "satoru...something, i don't remember."

his eyes darkened, wiping the tears off of your face as he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"your folks know that you're here?" his voice grew gentle, trying to keep it together for your sake, and you shook your head once again. you felt another wave of tears coming, and it took a lot of composure to not break down.

"no, i told them to go to hell. m-maybe they'll go searching there first," you murmur, a little grin making its way onto his face as he leads you through his home, the comfy sight making you feel at ease.

you found yourself on his couch, the same one from a few weeks ago, the same one where he...

"i'll go get you some clothes-" but you stopped him from leaving, tugging on his shirt to keep him in place.

"stay," you say, and he had no fight in him to deny you of your request. not with the way you looked at him. never when it came to you.

he gives you a tight nod, sitting across from you, careful not to be too close as he glances at the clock. it's late, and with the way the rain is pouring outside he'd be damned if he let you go back home in this weather. he'd rather take the claims of being sued by your father and let you sleep here than have you leave.

you look at your hands clasped in your lap, not saying anything about his distance, but feeling it tenfold when he sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to grapple with this situation.

"we're leaving two days from now," you say hurriedly, glancing at him quickly and then back to the ground, not knowing what else to do.

his eyes squint, brows crease down the middle at your words. he felt his chest grow heavy, and he can't remember the last time somebody had this sort of effect on him.

"thought you were leaving in a month?"

you shake your head, wiping at your eyes as you sniffle.

"my parents wanted me to meet...him."

his tongue pokes at his cheek, and he wants a scotch right now. fuck it, he'll take some vodka if he had any, but he finished the little bit remaining after the last fight the two of you had.

"i didn't mean what i said," you sputter out again, your eyes darting to his as you shift on his couch, "i don't hate you toji, i don't hate you at all. i was mad, 'nd i was mad at my parents and at you for what they told'ya to say, but i'm not mad at you, i love you, and i want to-" he doesn't let you finish, moving the two quick steps that separated the two of you as his face leans down to yours, his lips cutting you off.

you squeal a bit in surprise, clutching onto his shirt as he sets himself down, moving you with his own strength onto his lap as he never disconnects from you.

the two of you were basically feverish, feeling as though if you stopped for a second the world would stop spinning and you'd be forced to find each other again.

your spit mixed with his, your tears staining his cheeks as he huffed against your lips, his tongue fighting yours as he pushed his way into your mouth, his fingers wrinkling the expensive fabric of the dress that was splayed over your legs.

your fingers clutched and grasped at his hair, loving how it felt between you. you tugged, knowing he liked the sting, and knowing you liked the small gasp that escaped his throat when you'd do so.

"l-love you," you pant, pulling away to catch your breath as he follows you upward, spit connecting the two of you together as your eyes water again, "i love you toji," your words have a hold on him, something he's never experienced before.

for your entire life, you've wanted to be full of love. you've wanted a love that you've read in classic literature and seen in old hollywood movies. you wanted to be so full of love that you emptied yourself, waiting around for your prince charming. and when you met toji, he poured out his heart, giving you everything that he had. nobody else was toji, and nobody else could love you the way that he did.

"love you too, sweetheart," he whispers, and the words are heavy on his tongue, something he never said before he met you. he's not used to this, and he's not sure he will be. but he's sure that he wants your love, and knows that no other man is worthy of it. half the time he doubts he's worthy of it as well.

"i didn't mean what i said," you tell him again and he shushes you with another kiss, nodding as his large hands run soothingly up and down your back, his nose nudging your sweetly.

"i know sweetheart, i didn't either. y'know what you mean to me, nothing you say or do will ever make me mad at you." and he's right, because he can't remember the last time he had been with a woman who he was sure he'd kill for, can't remember the last time he had actually loved someone the way he loves you.

"i," you feel your words running out when his lips attach to your neck, your head falling backward to give him more room as heat blossoms in your face, across your chest, "i wanna run away with you, start fresh s-somewhere," you can feel your mind begin to go hazy as he sucks, his tongue running across the fresh marks he leaves you, looking through his long lashes as he listens intently to what you have to say.

"no," he shakes his head, undoing the knot that was keeping your dress together as his nose rubs at your soft skin, savoring this, "no, you're 'gonna go back home and you're 'gonna-"

"toji!" you try to quiet him but he looks at you, wanting to finish what he is trying to say. you knew what he wanted to tell you, knew that deep down you were merely dreaming. his calloused hands squeezed at your thighs, unconsciously moving you up and down his hard bulge.

"and you're 'gonna marry somebody who can provide for you," and although the words take everything in him to say, he knows that is the life that you deserve.

"i'll work, i'll find a job and the two of us will-" he presses a soft kiss to your lips, shaking his head.

"you know that this isn't the life cut out for you, and you know that no matter what, i won't be able to give you everything that you want." his thumb is hungrily hooking your panties to the side, fingers running over your slit that was practically dripping in wetness. he knew that this was the last time the two of you could be able to do this, and though he wanted to savor every second with you, he could barely control himself as it was.

"i want you," you shakily say, tears springing in your eyes as he hurries to wipe them away. who would have guessed that the man most feared in town would have done anything in his power to make the woman he loved most smile genuinely again?

to that, he had no response.

so instead, he did what he knew best, tugging his pants down as his cock sprang free. you glanced down, your mouth running dry at the sight.

his head was an angry red, leaking with pre as it twitched in the cold air. he was the only man you've been with, but you were aware enough to know that he was hung. and you couldn't help but think he was pretty, although you'd never admit it out loud. toji would only swat at you, gently turning your head to the side as he rolled his eyes.

but tonight, the two of you didn't have time to waste.

normally, he'd eat you out until your screams filled his house until your legs clamped around his head until you said you couldn't take anymore, his mouth shining with your essence and his spit. but you were wet enough where he didn't have to, and truth be told, you wanted him in you now, wanted to feel yourself around him.

you lined yourself up with him, your walls fluttering around nothing as his head spasmed from the feeling of lightly running against your clit. he was usually the one in charge, but tonight he let you take the lead, knowing how you needed it.

you gently pushed yourself on, your head tipping backward at the stretch. no matter how many times you'd take him, your pussy would never fully be able to accommodate his size. even his fingers would sting when he stretched you out, and this was far more different from that.

"fuck, slowly, there you go," he talked you through it, his eyes half-lidded as you began to sink into him, taking him inch by inch. your fingers gripped his shoulder, leaving indents as you felt your lungs squeezing out any of the air left in them.

"t-toji, fuck, you're so big," you mutter, biting on your lips to keep in the wanton moans as you squeeze around him, hearing him suck in a breath at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his twitching cock.

"you can do it," his hands gripped onto your waist, your skirt pooling around your hips as he helped steady you on, "know you can sweetheart, you've done it before," his voice was husky, a deep drawl to it. you loved it, loved him, loved everything about him.

"shit, hmmm, fuck!" you squeal, finally squeezing all of him in your, trying to take a little break as you felt him nearly rip you in half, the sting was welcome, and you lived for the way his head nipped at the spot that made your eyes roll back.

after a few seconds, you felt his thumb find your clit, swiping at it slowly as he began to move you up gently with his other hand. sweat was dotting his brow bone, and your head had thumped onto his, letting him maneuver your body.

once it was just his tip left in you, his eyes found yours, making sure you were good. when you gave him the go-ahead nod, he slammed your back down, a loud whine ripping itself from your lips.

"t-toji! oh my god, ooooh, f-fuck, toji!" you could barely find any words to say as he bounced you up and down on his cock, squelching sounds filling the air as a ring of you circling it's way around his dick, making it shine in the faint candles he had lit once the power went out from the storm.

"there you go, fuck, jus' like that." he rasped, eyeing the way your tits bounced with every move, palming them as he switched between tugging at your nipples and swiping at your clit, knowing either one made your mind go foggy.

"remember this dick when you see that scrawny bitch, yeah?" he huffs into your damp skin, kissing, biting at your chest, your neck as he looks up at you, "know this he can never amount to this, 'k sweetheart?"

you nod feverishly, tugging at the strands of hair that littered at his nape as you lean down to kiss him, everything messy and rushed as the two of you cling onto each other.

"who makes you feel this good?"

"y-you!" you cry out, crying from the pleasure and the pain, the crack in your heart worsening with each second.

"who does this pussy belong to?" he edged you on, his veins dragging up and down your walls with his every thrust, his lip caught between his teeth.

"you toji!" you whine out, trying to grab onto his clothes, his shoulders, anything to stabilize you to reality.

"who do you love, huh, sweetheart?" he needs to hear it once more, once more so that it can be seared into his mind. once more so that once he has to live a life without you in it, the reminder that you love him, or at least loved him at some point, can make him smile without having it turn bitter.

"you, jus' you toji!" your tears are salty on his lips, and he can feel you getting closer to your release. he knows he's not far away from his, so he picks up his pace, rubbing your little bud faster as he feels your walls clench tightly around him.

"that's right," he groans, "you're all mine."

he knows that he's being selfish, knows that you'll probably forget about him and this fling years from now. but here, at this moment, he wants you to remember him. he wants your pussy to mold to his shape so that no other man can fit you, fuck you, love you the way toji does.

you nod again, your arms circling around his neck as your hips stutter, your stomach clenching and walls clamping down as you feel yourself about to let go.

"toji, i'm gonna, fuck, toji...!" you squeal when he doesn't stop, his pace relentless as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, never leaving you unmarked with his bruising grip on your waist.

"come on, do it, let go, come with me," he's close, and once he feels your walls spasming around him, your head tilting back as you let out a strangled cry as you come, he lifts you up, his release spilling all over your naked stomach as his cock twitched with his every movement.

you swear you've never felt this good in your life, your toes curling as you finally cum around him. it's too much, the way your essence squirts everywhere, your walls longing to be filled once he pulls out of you.

it's too much yet too little, knowing that the two of you don't have much time to savor this moment.

your chest is heaving up and down, your neck flushing with heat as you settle back down on toji's lap, your legs and thighs cramping as he flashes' you a little grin, the same one that made you fall in love with him in the first place as you move some hair away from his eyes.

aside from your labored breaths, his house is silent once again, and just as heavy as it was minutes ago.

"the night's still not over," he reminds you, the two of you glancing out the window as the rain continues to storm down. the wind is faster and angrier than it was before you arrived, and the thunder rattles the little house.

"can we go to your bedroom?" you ask, resting your head down on his chest as you listen to the rhythmic pattern of his heartbeat. it's erratic, just like yours.

"mhm," he hums, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, shuffling your skirt around so that it settles on your thighs.

"i'm 'gonna come back next year," you saw, wiping at your cheeks so that he can't see you crying again, but nothing goes unnoticed by him, "and you better have a ring waiting for me when i do."

he nods again.

"anything for my girl."

[2millu2]

Tantalizing Smell - Giyu Tomioka

ఌ Ft. Giyu x Hashira fem reader

WC: 3k

warnings: Smut, PwP, Sex Pollen, Marking, Penetration, nipple play, slighy caught, someone watching, fem reader, pet name (use of babe from reader)

A/N: maybe making a part 2

The forest was eerily still save for the occasional chirp of a bird or rustle of leaves in the light breeze. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched as she and Giyu made their way cautiously through the dense trees.

Giyu walked slightly ahead, the hilt of his sword gripped tightly in his hand. Though his expression was as impassive as ever, Y/n could sense the razor-sharp focus simmering just beneath the surface. When it came to demons, the usually reserved water hashira was all business.

Y/n tried her best to match Giyu's intense vigilance, her own smaller blade at the ready. She depended on her bubbly chatter to calm her nerves during missions like this. "Did you hear the new baby deer was just born in the forest outside my village?" she piped up cheerfully. "The kids have been so excited to see it. They're calling it Blossom because of the white spots on its back!"

She stole a glance at her silent companion, unable to read his stony countenance as usual. But she knew he was listening, he always did despite his brooding demeanor.

Before she could continue her one-sided conversation, a harsh cawing shattered the stillness. A flock of crows burst from the trees just ahead, their frantic wingbeats sending leaves swirling. "Demon," Giyu stated succinctly, lengthening his stride into a run.

Y/n's heart kicked up as she rushed to keep pace. "What kind?" she asked in halting breaths. Giyu's eyes narrowed grimly. "Don’t know let’s get there quick before it hurts people."

As they broke through the forest into a shadowy clearing, an overwhelmingly sweet and cloying aroma assaulted their senses. Y/n's eyes widened at the thick purple fog surrounding them. "What is this?" she exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her face. "Have you ever encountered something like this before?"

She looked to Giyu for an explanation, frowning when he didn't respond. To her shock, his dark blue eyes had an oddly glazed look.

"Giyu?" She reached out, passing her hand before his unfocused stare. He blinked slowly, seeming to shake himself out of his daze.

"Are you alright?" Y/n asked with concern.

"I'm fine," he ground out tightly, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword now. "Just a headache."

Y/n studied him closely. "Maybe you should sit this one out. I can handle it if it's just a minor demon."

"No." Giyu's tone was adamant, almost...desperate? "I won't leave you to fight alone. You could get hurt."

Before she could protest further, a thick purple tentacle shot out from the fog, lashing at Y/n's legs. She swiftly severed it with her blade mid-air, landing in a crouch as it fell limp at her feet. Giyu moved to her side, blade drawn and at the ready as more tentacles came whipping through the forest...

The tentacles came slashing through the hazy purple fog in rapid motions. Y/n and Giyu moved with speed and grace, their blades flashing as they deflected and severed the writhing tentacles one by one.

Though they fought back-to-back, Y/n couldn't help but notice Giyu's movements seemed a bit sluggish, his usual fluid swordsmanship slightly off. His brow was furrowed in either intense concentration or discomfort - it was hard to tell.

A brief lull allowed Y/n to glance back at her partner in concern. "Giyu, are you sure you're alright?"

He gave a curt nod, but his heavy breathing and sweating told a different story. Before Y/n could probe further, a form began emerging from the thick purple fog before them.

The demoness seemed to be fashioned from the purple fog itself, her torso human in appearance but her lower body a gnarled mass of tentacles. Her lips were curved in a sinister smile as her chilling gaze swept over the two hashira.

Without warning, the demoness flung out her arms and a sparkling cloud of white powder exploded outwards. Y/n instinctively covered her mouth and nose, but Giyu wasn't fast enough. The shimmering particles clung to his skin and uniform as he coughed and sputtered.

"Giyu!" Y/n rushed to his side as he doubled over, wrapping a protective arm around his heaving shoulders. She glared daggers at the cackling demoness. "What did you do to him?"

"Oh, just a little stimulant to help him...relax," the demon purred in a lilting tone. "Don't worry, it's quite harmless. At least in small doses."

Seemingly bored with their interaction, the creature melted back into the fog with a flick of her tentacles. The purple demoness leave moments later, leaving Y/n alone with a worryingly dazed Giyu.

She patted his broad back firmly as his coughing slowly subsided. "Easy, easy. Just breathe."

Clutching a fistful of her uniform, he lifted his hooded gaze to meet hers. Y/n's breath caught at the look his dark blue eyes filled with full blow lust- it was unlike anything she'd ever seen from the typically stoic swordsman.

Heat, pure desire seared through her at the blatant hunger blazing of his stare. Giyu reached up with a shaky hand to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her flushed skin.

"Y/n..." he groaned out her name that sparked tingling heat low in her belly. "I want you. Need you..."

She opened her mouth to respond, to question, but his lips crushed over hers in a searing, desperate kiss. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed as his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth hungrily.

A soft whimper escaped her as he smoothly reversed their positions, pushing her back against the forest floor. Giyu settled his weight over her smaller frame, pinning her effectively beneath him.

Y/n realized that she should be protesting this, fighting him off. Clearly the demon's powder had addled his senses, driven him into a maddened lust. This wasn't her Giyu acting of his own will.

But it wasn’t like she hasn’t imagined, fantasized about being under him like this more times than she could count on sleepless nights. Her own desire had been simmering under the surface for so long, slowly stoked by years of lingering looks and heated proximity during their travels together.

Now with Giyu's hard, straining bulge inbetween her legs, pressing against her through the thin fabric of her panties...Y/n couldn't find it in herself to push him away. Not when she craved this, craved him, so desperately.

Tangling her fingers into his dark locks, she arched needily into the delicious friction as he ground his hips against her core. Y/n gasped at the exquisite pressure, throwing her head back to allow his lips to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck.

"Giyu...ah!" His name fell from her lips in a breathless moan as he sucked hard at her shoulder.

he swiftly parted her uniform unbuttoning it and pushed it down over her shoulders, exposing her perky breasts to his lustful stare. Y/n flushed under the heat of his gaze, nipples harding in the cool forest air.

"Fuck...you're gorgeous," Giyu groaned, roving his eyes over her exposed flesh with lustful hunger. He leaned down to capture one nipple between his lips while his other wandered lower.

"Enough teasing," Y/n moaned, yanking Giyu down into a bruising kiss that left them both panting heavily.

Shoving his uniform off those broad shoulders, she raked her nails over his hard chest in desperation. She needed to feel his skin against hers, to sate the burning ache that had been simmering for far too long.

Giyu growled against her lips, bucking his hips to grind his bulging length against her clothed cunt. Even through the thin layers of fabric separating them, Y/n could feel the impressive size of him, making her mouth water.

Growling curses, they made short work of shredding the last flimsy barriers until he was finally naked above her. Y/n's eyes went wide at the sight of his flushed cock leaking precum and standing proud.

She licked her lips unconsciously, squirming as she drank in the sight of him in all his naked glory. Without exhaustion, she reached out and boldly fisted his impressive length, giving him a few slow firm strokes.

Giyu grunted, jaw ticking as he clearly fought for control. "Fuck, Y/n...gonna make me cum too fast with that pretty hand yours."

Blushing at the Lewd words coming out of his mouth she flashing him a wicked grin, she purposefully swiped her thumb through the bead of moisture at his tip, moaning softly at the musky scent and taste of his arousal. "Want to make you lose it, babe. Want you to come so fucking hard."

His pupils blew wide at her filthy words, breath coming harsher. "Not if I get my fill of you first."

Hooking her legs over his hips, Giyu didn't waste any more time before guiding the swollen tip of his cock through her soaked folds. Y/n cried out shamelessly as he stretched and filled her in one thick thrust that seated him to the hilt.

For a long moment, they simply stilled and savored the sublime feeling of being so intimately joined. Then Giyu started moving with slow rolls of his hips, dragging his thick cock in tantalizing strokes through her fluttering cunt.

Y/n moaned wildly, nails scratching down the muscles of his back as he swiftly found a faster rhythm. Every piston of his hips drove the breath from her lungs in harsh pants, the slick sounds of their of there hips hitting each other fills the quite forest.

Faster and harder Giyu moved, harnessing that supernatural strength until Y/n felt like a rag doll under the relentless onslaught. The thick bed of moss and grass did little to cushion her body as it was driven into the unforgiving forest floor with each frenzied thrust.

"Harder!" she panted harshly, urging him on with ragged cries and rolling her hips. "Give it to me, fuck me harder!"

Giyu snarled, sweat-damp hair falling in messy disarray as he somehow managed to pick up the brutal pace even more. Y/n wailed in pleasure with each powerful lunge, body feeling pure ecstasy as he pounded into her warm wet cunt.

She could feel it rapidly building, that familiar tightness low in her abdomen as Giyu's cock stretched and filled her so exquisitely. Her hoarse cries and his harsh grunts mingled with the obscene wet sounds of their lovemaking.

It was too much and not enough all at once. Y/n's head thrashed against the loamy ground, toes curling. She just needed that one...final...push...

Bracing his weight on one arm, Giyu suddenly reached between their writhing bodies to thumb tight circles over her swollen clit. Electric sparks lanced through Y/n at that exquisite friction combined with the thick slide of his cock nudging so perfectly against that spongy cluster of nerves with each thrust.

Only a few deft brushes of his skilled fingers and Y/n detonated like a flash bomb. Her scream of rapture echoed through the shadowed forest as her entire body arched into his body.

She was vaguely aware of her nails scratching down Giyu's heaving back, leaving bright pink crescents amidst. Wave after shattering wave of convulsive bliss crashed over her as she milked his pistoning cock in rhythmic spasms.

"That's it, take it all," Giyu growled against the sweat-slick column of her throat, hips driving wildly as her velvet walls rippled around him. "You feel so fucking good, so tight when you cum..."

The strained, filthy praise in his gravelly tone only prolonged Y/n's release, sending her spiraling higher. As if from a distance, she heard her own mindless litany of curses and mewling cries spilling shamelessly from her parted lips.

Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take any more, Giyu's powerful body went rigid above her. With one final, harsh groan muffled against her skin, he emptied his hot cum deep inside her still-quivering cunt.

Y/n whimpered at the feeling of his cock twitching and pulsing, coating her inner walls with each hot spurt.. She clutched his shoulders, anchoring him to her as they rode out the final shockwaves together.

Long moments passed where the only sounds were their harsh mingled breaths and the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. Gradually, Giyu slumped heavily over Y/n, completely spent and sated as his weight pinned her to the damp earth below.

She trailed idle, trembling fingers over the twitching muscles of his powerful back, mapping each ridge and scar as she cradled him against her. When he finally lifted his head, spent but glowing with satisfaction, Y/n cupped his stubbled jaw and brushed her lips over his in a soft, reverent kiss.

After the kiss Giyu eyes finally got to his normal dark blue and he finally caught his breath “I’m s-sorry I don’t know what came over me” he says his body looming over yours and his eyes filled with regret

She smiled “hey it’s alright it wasn’t really your fault, plus I’m not mad that it happened” Giyu’s face turns bright red looks like he’s back to his normal self he then helped you put on your clothes

S-shit” said the unknown man hiding behind the tree his cock in his hand filled with his seed the unknown man tuck himself back in his pants “who knew she was a fucking slut, and doing with that bastard Tomioka” said the unknown man before quietly running off

Who do you think the mysterious person is part. 2 🤔

A/N: Credits to the artist of the photo

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Dance (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd attending a ball and being bored to tears until you appear in the crowd.

A/n- thanks to everyone who read and supported my other Feyd fic!! I hope you all enjoy this one too :)

Word Count: 1,353

Warnings: none

The ballroom is overrun with diplomats and politicians. All dressed up in their very best attire, each one is hoping to impress those richer and more influential than themselves.

Feyd observes with a bored demeanour, swirling the blood red wine in his goblet. He’s leaning against a white pillar, staring out at the people with keen dark eyes.

A celebration of this degree isn’t something to be missed, his Uncle had said, insisting on his attendance.

So he attends, although he is bored from the lack of any meaningful conversations or actions. The feast was the best part, his favourite piece a bloody rare steak that practically melted in his mouth.

No one has come to speak with him out of a desire to just chat. No, each person who spoke had an ulterior motive and fear in their eyes. They want to be on the Harkonnen’s good side, lest they become victims instead. So, they chat about inconsequential things, all the while their hands shake and betray their frayed nerves.

Feyd found it amusing at first, but has since grown tired of it. These fickle politics and the endless pursuit of money. Money and power make this universe worth living in.

Music begins to play, a sensual drum beat joined by the strumming of string instruments and an angelic vocalizer. The sea of mingling people part as they allow the dancers the necessary space to move.

Feyd’s lips curl as he watches people join in the dance, the ballroom finally used for its original purpose.

People in skin tight dresses, fashionable suits, those showing too much skin, some showing none- the room is flooded with a menagerie of humans.

Each one is dancing with a partner, bending and swaying to the rhythm. All accept one.

He watches her move in perfect synchronization with the lilting music, lifting her arms high in the air. She avoids the stuffy aristocratic dancers who hardly allow the music to carry them.

She looks like a woman possessed. As if the melody has taken root deep within her and bids her to perform a marvellous spell.

It must be a spell, for he finds himself bewitched.

No one else has captured his attention so profoundly this whole event. He hasn’t even spoken with her yet and oh how he wishes too.

He must.

Feyd has never before desired to dance. Not unless it was the dance of battle, of blades clashing and blood dripping.

You have changed that.

As he watches you deftly twirling and clapping gently to the song, he cannot stop his body from acting on its own accord.

And Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, fearsome warrior, finds himself pushing through the crowd to join you in your hypnotic dance.

You notice when the handsome stranger leaves his spot by the pillar, his eyes fixated only on you. You’re not sure how to feel.

During the dinner, you had walked by him on the way to your designated place. You’re from a minor house, not fit to sit with the guests from the major ones. Not that you minded, it’s always been this way.

He had caught your attention immediately. Brooding and gorgeous, with full, sensual lips and the palest skin you’ve ever seen, how could you resist admiring him?

He hadn’t noticed you then.

He notices you now.

A soft smile graces your lips as he reaches you, dark eyes boring into yours. You stop as he reaches out a sculpted hand.

You take it.

His hand is warm, and you can sense the strength hiding just beneath his skin. This man is dangerous, you realized that when you first spotted him.

To your surprise, he is an excellent dancer, leading you in perfect harmony to the music. You can barely hear the music over the pounding of your heart.

This wasn’t what you expected.

“You are a wonderful dancer,” you whisper once you’re close enough to hear each other.

His smirk is prideful, “A fighter must be lithe and nimble, my lady.”

His voice is raspy, deep. Again, you are taken by surprise.

“You must be an excellent warrior too.”

You spin around, his hand guiding you. He has dropped his smile, replaced it with a predatory look reminiscent of a hungry panther.

“The best,” he replies, supporting your back as he dips you downwards.

The other dancers seem to fade away as you dance with him, this frightening stranger. His touches are like a fire unto you, his gaze a steady burning.

He dances as if it’s a battle of dominance. He leads without hesitation, and you answer with the fluidity and grace befitting a lady.

It’s exhilarating.

And it’s gone too soon as the music dies down and the other clap for the musicians.

Breathing heavily, you simply stare at this man who joined you in rapturous movement, not wanting it to end.

He hasn’t let go of your hand.

You don’t want him to.

“What’s your name?” You ask before he can slip away and disappear forever. If he did, you’d at least want to remember his name.

He smirks, “You don’t know me?”

“No, or I would not have asked,” you point out.

He chuckles, revealing blacked teeth, “I am na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, my lady.”

You blink at this revelation. You’ve never met a Harkonnen before, let alone a such a high ranking one.

Feyd expects you to recoil in fright, surely knowing the brutality his house is known for. He is taken aback when you smile.

“I am pleased to meet you,” you in line your head slightly as you supply your own name.

He realizes his hand is still clasping yours and that you don’t seem to mind it one bit. Feyd gently tugs you towards him, “Come, it is too crowded here.”

Perhaps foolishly, you allow yourself to be led away from the ballroom and into a quiet hall.

It’s late, and you can see the stars through the sheer curtains of the hallway.

“Are you enjoying the festivities? You seemed unhappy,” you ask. “I saw you by the pillar.”

“I was bored,” he admits without care. “Before the dance.”

“And now?”

“And now I have welcome company and my boredom has fled in the wake of your beauty.”

He traces a hand, still so warm, down your cheek. You bask in the attention, wondering if this is all a dream you’ll wake from in a moment.

Feyd’s hand goes lower, until it grasps around your neck and tightens. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to still your breathing. With his grip tight, he pulls you forward and kisses you deeply.

It’s intoxicating.

He kisses like he dances, dominating and alluring. You bring your hands up to grip his shoulders as he continues his assault on your senses.

“Everything was dull until you danced into my sight,” he rasps as you catch your breath. “I’ve never seen such a vision.”

“I have never seen a man like you,” you confess, resting a hand on his chest. “You have such intensity…”

“Does it frighten you?”

“No, no it thrills me, my lord.”

The way those words roll off your tongue has Feyd hooked, his mouth latching onto your neck as he cups your face with one hand.

“Do you know what I’ve done?” He asks, unsure why he’s asking.

“I know you’ve danced beautifully,” you smile. “And I know your touch feels electrifying. And I know you’re going to take me into an empty room.”

You withdraw from him slightly, awestruck at the hunger in his eyes.

“And what happens then?”

He retakes your hand, not too gently this time, and practically drags you to the nearest room, slamming the pen the door.

Luckily, no one is in there.

“You know what happens next,” you say, already stripping him of his fine shirt before doing the same to yourself.

Feyd is glad he decided to come to this festival, thanking his lucky stars as he stares in awe at your beauty.

He wonders if you make love as spellbindingly as you dance.

He’ll soon find out.

[astro-enthusiast]

I have been resurrected…this time from a new account because in true plutonian fashion I feel the need to combust and start anew far too often.

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES PLAGIARIZE MY WORK.

thank you for reading you angel of a person! enjoyyy🤍

🖤 The classic Scorpio stereotype of being dark, brooding, and cryptic doesn’t belong to Scorpio suns. It belongs to the risings, moons, and mars. Every Scorpio sun I know is the bubbliest mf to walk the planet.

🤍 It’s well known that personal planets in Virgo can make for a perfectionist, but I’ve also noticed this pattern with Virgo degrees in a chart. Degrees tell a large part of your story as well!

🖤 I’ve said it before and I WILL say it again: I’ve never met an Aries, Gemini, Scorpio, or Sagittarius sun that wasn’t popular, or at the very least: amazing at holding convos with all kinds of people. If you aren’t popular, congrats, you’re a unicorn.

🤍 Piggybacking off of the above observation, these signs aren’t necessarily prone to being buddy-buddy with everyone. But I have noticed they can hold a conversation and have a wide variety of acquaintances at the very least.

🖤 Taurus and Libra suns will never be caught slacking. Their self-esteem and quality of life is tied to their need of a harmonious environment and looking cute 24/7. Also never met a Taurus or Libra sun that wasn’t adored for their beauty.

🤍 Sagittarius placements are both super energetic and super cuddly at the same time. Like they can do both so effortlessly. I see why everyone loves them lol.

🖤 Saturnian moons (Aqua and Cap) go sooo well together. I will forever obsess over this pairing. Aquarius’ analytical nature and expansive thinking combined with Capricorn’s stable nature and diligent care creates such a sweet and enriching element.

🤍 In my humble opinion, Saturnian moons don’t get enough credit for their depth. I’m biased, but having known these signs on a personal level, their depth is beyond what people speak on. Of course, not just anyone is getting in their thoughts though. These signs open up over time. Hence, the Saturnian influence. Being intentional in the sharing of emotions does not equal being emotionally stunted. With that being said, Saturnian moons can most certainly suppress their emotions better than the average person.

🖤 You would think a Sagittarius mars would make for an adventurous person who probably loves nature, but every sag mars I know is deathly afraid of the things that live in nature: i.e. bugs. They will scream their heads off if a bug even looks at them.

🤍 Gemini moons learned how to gossip and keep tabs on people from their mother. They also have great conversational skills that they learned from her. Their mother was likely popular and social. Same goes for Libra moons.

THANK YOU FOR READING. 🫶🏽✨

RIGHTS RESERVED TO MY BLOG astro-enthusiast . DO NOT COPY, REWRITE, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

[thehighladywrites]

𝖠𝖢𝖮𝖳𝖠𝖱 𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖧𝖢’𝖲

summary: being girly in a world full of haters can be hard sometimes! I mean, people hate all the time. but these males don’t let any disrespect towards you slide. They protect you through and through 👀

warnings: fluff, tw:beron😒

amara’s note: this went from being an azriel fic, to rhys and azriel, to batboys, to batboys+lucien and finally all of them. Honestly idc bc i love all of them🤭🤭

Rhysand

Fashion bf x barbie doll gf

I can’t think of anything more cuter than being his doll.

The man does everything for you,

Picking out materials for dresses, designing them for you, working with a private seamstress to bring his visions to life

He knows you best and always supplies the cutest, girliest outfits ever

This man is so attentive and caring, he doesn’t even have to ask what you want to wear, he just knows. It’s like you share a brain

Rhys absolutely loves it when you ask for his advice on hairstyles and fashion choices. He literally goes into designer mode and fixes you up reaaaal nice

When you guys are in the Hewn City, you don’t care, you still wear your pink girly clothes bc who’s gonna say anything to the high lady?

Sparkly accessories, high heels, pretty makeup and cute hairstyles is your trademark.

Rhys loves that you are super girly, he likes the dynamic of him being dark and mysterious and you being bright and bubbly

He protects you like crazy, no one is even managing to say something insulting to you bc rhys takes care or it before the sentence even forms in their mind

Cassian

brooding bf x sunshine gf

This combo is top tier

At first, Cassian might've thought you were a bit too cheery and too involved in yourself. I mean, who else has a massive stash of fragrances, lotions, sparkly jewels, clothes, tons of bags, and enough shoes to fill a closet?

Also, who in the world is that insanely cheerful? There are a million things to focus on, and you're there pondering over matching shades of pink and which bag to wear for the day.

He tries to keep his distance, but you're so inviting and warm that he just melts and falls head over heels in love.

Cassian also falls in love with how much you care for yourself and how adorable you look every single day.

You notice how you’re always seeing him always in plain, simple athleisure or leather. So, you take matters into your own hands and whisk him away for a shopping spree, upgrading his entire wardrobe. Despite his potential, he's been stuck in a rut of black, plain, and boring clothes, and you're determined to change that.

After just a few weeks of being together, this guy has a full-on skincare routine, knows how to coordinate outfits flawlessly so he looks very put together and handsome

He has even mastered the art of silky-smooth hair thanks to you. You've truly leveled him up in every way.

Everyone can't help but notice how much more refreshed and attractive Cassian looks, and it's making you second-guess your decision to help him level up because now, people are hitting on him even more.

Azriel

Scary bf x shy gf

Top tier combo again

No one really knows how such polar opposites ended up together, but suppose they do say opposites attract.

Azriel is stoic around everyone who isn’t the direct inner circle. He lets loose around his found family but even more so around you

Really, he is super comfortable and funny when you’re alone

Azriel notices how soft spoken and kind hearted you are very early on

He is very attentive and your style is actually first thing he notices

The frilly skirts, cute tops, styled hair, cutesy nails and an aura that screamed femininity

He considers his daggers as accessories while you wear cute headbands and ribbons in your hair

Azriel’s fav activity is watching you get ready for anything, whether it be for bed, an event, in the mornings or date nights

He just adores watching your moves, how much effort you put in, the different techniques you use and how you pamper yourself

Pride fills him when he sees how relaxed and put together you feel and look. There is nothing he likes more than seeing you happy with yourself

I also believe az can be traditional and likes the dynamic of having a girly girl mate, or you being all feminine and sweet while he is more masculine and protective

Bro let’s actually talk about protection

No one, I mean absolutely no one, insults you and gets away with it. No matter how snarky the comment, Azriel deals with it.

You’re not as confrontational as him and often hide behind his wings and that makes him even more protective if possible

You always calm him down when someone says something, and he listens to you. If you don't want him to deal with it then and there, he won't ever confront someone in front of you.

Azriel just handles it later, putting fear into people for even daring to approach you.

He wouldn’t do anything remotely scary or frightening in fromt of you. Azriel keeps his work and personal life separate, especially from you

Az couldn’t dream of accidentally putting you in danger, so he never, EVER drags you into his work

You’re not stupid, you know the toll his work takes on him so you are there for him without being too involved, you know how to cheer him up from whatever he is doing behind closed doors

Eris

Arrogant bf x dark feminine gf

Power couple through and through

Eris is canonically extremely well dressed and that makes this dynamic so special

Eris adores splurging on his seamstresses to create matching outfits for both of you.

Best dressed couple in Prythian, hands down

You two are fashion icons, inspiring countless people. People look up to you as their inspiration. Established luxury brands pay you handsomely to flaunt their designs at balls, where all eyes are on you.

Speaking of matching, y’all have matching smirks and cunning mind, and since you’re mates, you have a way of communicating and plotting without anyone knowing

Before, while B*ron🤢 was alive, Eris was ridiculed for having soft hands, clean nails, and good hygiene, which always disgusted him. Why was being clean looked down upon? It disgusted him, knowing that people purposely rather be dirty than clean

Everything got better when you came around and his father passed away. Finally, he had someone who didn't judge him, someone who actually encouraged him to look his best.

You often sit in his lap, plucking his eyebrows as he wears a face mask, his hair pushed back by a cute alien headband.

You often also get manicures, and at first, Eris was like, "This is where I draw the line." But when you suggested just a clear coat and cleaning the nails, he went along with it.

No one knows though. That's the only compromise; I mean, he's still the High Lord, and people can't know he gets manicures. He'd be ridiculed for some stupid macho reason.

Anyways, when it comes to protecting you, no one does it better than him. Not only will he destroy the person with his words but he will blackmail and psychologically torture them. It might seem mean but that’s the price of people not properly respecting their High Lady

Lucien

calm bf x hyper and outspoken gf

you are an absolute sweetheart, there is no one that hates you in the slightest.

In this scenario, I think you're known for rescuing stray animals. It's not like collecting Pokémon cards; instead, you're the person who steps up when there's a stray kitten in need of care.

You definitely live in a cute cottage in the woods with him, not worrying about anything with him there

Your house is an explosion of adorable decor, with pink accents everywhere you look. It's filled with super cute and girly decorations in every corner.

When you start dating Lucien, he notices how hyper you are and how you juggle multiple tasks at once.

Lucien is like your calming anchor, keeping your energy balanced and the vibes serene.

One of your biggest hyperfixations is clothes. Whether it's dresses, coats, pants, shoes, fabrics, or makeup, anything feminine is right up your alley.

And Lucien makes sure you don't overexert yourself, always looking out for your well-being.

Since you're so hyper, you're sometimes loud in certain moments. It really hurts when people tell you to shut up and calm down.

lucien doesn’t let it slide tho

This man defends you however he deems necessary, whether it's with his words or hands.

Just know, he always has your back, no matter what.

No one is suffocating your light and energy if he has anything to do with it.

[pocketsizedowls]

My Conspiracy Theory about Natlan's Pale Characters

I started playing Genshin Impact around the 3.7 update, right after the Interdarshan Championship. While I wasn't around during the initial spark of outrage against Sumeru due to the characters' overall lack of melanin, I eventually learned a lot about Sumeru's cultural inspirations through the SWANA and South Asian creators in the fandom. I think it's beautiful how we learn about each other's cultures through Genshin, and I believe the designers at Hoyoverse do lots of research to facilitate these conversations. This is why I think it's a shame that Natlan, which features rich Indigenous cultures in the Americas, Africa, and Pacific Islands, features primarily pale characters AGAIN.

While it's possible that through the art, story, and fashion of Natlan we will once again learn about the diverse cultures of Indigenous Americas, West Africa, and the Pacific Islands, I don't think it's enough. Considering a lot of these cultures take pride in their skin color and bodies through tattoos, body paint, and other markings/piercings, Hoyoverse is doing a disservice to today's Latin American, African, and Pacific islander fan base by making the majority of Natlan characters pale. To insensitively cherry-pick what traits of each culture to represent and what to discard is the definition of cultural appropriation and racism, which is such a shame because of how many discussions about culture that Genshin has started since 2020. As a Chinese American player, I'm especially disappointed that the company who educated so many people about my culture is failing my brown and Black friends to such a spectacular degree.

Many people have come up with excuses such as it's just skin, it's just a game, Hoyoverse is a Chinese company so what do you expect, Latin America also has white people, etc. I won't bother debunking these myths because there are plenty of people doing this labor already, but what I do want to bring people's attention to is the fact that many Natlan characters were most likely designed with darker skin in mind. Through fanmade recolorings (here's an example), I noticed that Mualani and Kachina's tan lines and skin details look more pronounced with darker skin, while Xilonen looks more mature and Kinich looks more brooding. Having studied studio art during undergrad, I cannot unsee these intentional artistic decisions and cannot shake the possibility that the researchers and character designers of Hoyoverse were forced by higherups to whitewash everyone at the very last minute. If this is true, I hope Hoyoverse will find some way to reverse their decision or turn a new leaf in the future. Considering many other Chinese games like Reverse: 1999 and Dislyte already have diverse representation and melanated characters, Hoyoverse should find no problem following their lead.

As of right now (i.e. 4.8 update), Genshin players from all over the world are expressing their dissatisfaction with Hoyoverse through boycotts, review bombing, and posting on social media. The Chinese fanbase - Hoyoverse's primary audience - is especially vocal and organized about their efforts, which means if Hoyoverse doesn't notice now, they will notice soon. Despite how much we like using Genshin as an escape from real life, it's important to recognize how insidious the consequences of erasing melanated characters can be. Anti-Blackness and colorism harm people on the daily, which is why we must speak up when a company as big and influential as Hoyoverse is doing the harming.

Thanks for reading! Here are some related threads from X, formally known as Twitter:

Petition to "Stop Cultural Appropriation and Whitewashing in MiHoYo Games"

Valeria Rodriguez, i.e. Surcrose's English VA's thoughts on Natlan

Natlan Characters Look Better with a Dark Skintone

Kaveh rerunning in 4.8 is a ploy for WHAT!?!?!?

We Should All Email Hoyoverse

Official Account for HYV Boycott

[yellydany]

VAMPIRE KILLER FROG 🐸 🩸 (Nosferas Venari) Also known as Eztlicueyatl (Blood frog) or Tzinacamiztli (Bat death)

"A voracious amphibian-like species that adapted to hunt vampires. Its origins are vague and shrouded in mystery but an hypothesis suggests it could have been the result of selective breeding or nature’s “way” of dealing with the ecological imbalance vampires caused through centuries. Whichever the reason, one thing is clear: these hunters evolved in such fashion they became the night creatures’ bane.

Every bodily function feels almost engineered in eerie accuracy to strike at their very weaknesses- such as the tip of the tail (bone) they sharpen to resemble a stake, the muscle reflexes and athletic composition to catch up with their supernatural agility and a blackened coat which absorbs the bouncing light of nocturnal eyes paired with drastically lowering their body temperature (essentially becoming ‘invisible’ in the dark). Although they may prefer a stealthy approach they show no fear if they must engage in direct confrontation. There’s no sexual dimorphism albeit females are more common in nature compared to the rare male sights and not much is known about the behavior with others of their kind as they are solitary. But such is their intelligence that it would be safe to assume they study- and learn from both their prey’s movement and environments given the observations on this beast.

Worse yet- for vampires- they have more cunning ways of hunting for a meal.

The Nosferas frog is able to produce a unique secretion mix of blood, mucus and gastric fluids which is all over their bodies- from the inside and out. More interestingly they have a way to regulate its acidic components to either use as a melting gag weapon, dissolving and trapping pathogens or simply increasing its PH. Essentially, the body is extremely moldable thanks to this odd slimy substance that makes it almost feel like liquid and comes in handy in various situations such as protecting their brood eggs by swallowing them. It is also the most crucial function in the capturing of their vampiric prey as the scent of this bloody secretion lures them and other carnivores in. Once they come in sight they eject their multiple stomachs through gastric eversion to latch onto the victim and begin the digestion early. The vampire skulls are then proudly kept and displayed given the very transparent look of the lower side of the body.

Despite it being a terrifying organism by all means, they have shown vague signs of affection toward humans- some of whom have tamed and kept them as exotic guardian pets against the supernatural plague. In most areas of the land however they underwent a ban given their dangerous and unsettling nature."

[saturnville]

what happens in madrid… [1/2]

pairing: jude bellingham x black oc (naomi sinclair) summary: what happens in madrid… warnings: none. tags: @emjayewrites @cocobutterqwueen @neeville @neewrites @cosmic-parker + anyone else who likes football fics? let me know if you want to be added! an: when I tell you this took me forever…I truly hope you like my delusions put into a fic 🩵 and this gif!!!

part two: …stays in madrid

“Let me take you out. Make your trip one to remember.”

Naomi considered herself a smart woman. University-educated with street smarts that were more profound than a person would assume for her age. She intentionally thought through every scenario; understanding that everything she said, thought, and did came with a consequence.

She didn’t know what it would take to see a six-foot man with caramel skin and chocolate brown eyes approaching her at a local restaurant and boldly attempting to woo her, to let go of all her inhibitions and throw her common sense out the window. She knew him, yes, but she didn’t know him. Hell, he could kill her within the next five minutes.

Did it phase her? No. For once, she let her curiosity outweigh her logical mind and fell victim to his gleaming smile and charming nature. She was on vacation, she tried to reason the best she could. On vacation and being pursued by a fine young man who insisted she have a good time during her stay. So, she pushed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a smile that raised his eyebrows in interest. “Pick me up from here tomorrow.”

-

“Well aren’t you beautiful,” he complimented as she walked toward his vehicle, dark and brooding, much unlike the man he’d presented himself as. His comment had her lips curling upward to a smile. She thanked him, accepted the kiss on her cheek, and tried not to fold when he guided her to the passenger’s seat.

“Thank you,” Naomi replied after some time. “You are dually handsome, sir.” And that was a fact. She appreciated his subtle approach to fashion. Everything he wore was high-end, that was evident, but it wasn’t flashy. His aura and confidence spoke for him. He wore the black button-down and matching short set with an easy confidence. The dark sunglasses over his eyes completed the look, only emphasizing her thoughts.

Jude smiled and proceeded to drive out of the hotel lot. They engaged in small conversation, picking up from where they left off the previous night. They were different but had a lot in common. She, too, was the oldest of two, save she had a sister rather than a brother. Unlike her, her sister didn’t take an interest in football, rather participated in cheerleading and went to university on a cheer scholarship.

“That’s amazing,” Jude commented genuinely. “She graduated right?”

Naomi shook her head. “Not yet; she’s still got time. She’s a first-year, but she’s already planning her graduation trip. She wants to go to England.” His ears perked up and a sly smile crept on his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully but accepted his proposal to share places she should visit whenever her sister went to England.

“You know,” Jude spoke minutes later as he guided her out of the vehicle. She took his extended hand and thanked him, straightening her thigh-length skirt. “I don’t hear Spain as a place for solo travel often. What prompted that?”

Her response was delayed by her infatuation with the sights above her. They were outside of a museum. Not just any museum, but the National Archaeological Museum. She was inwardly awed. He took note of her love for history and art and took her to the museum. She could kiss him right then and there.

“Glad you took my advice and wore comfortable shoes.” They both glanced at her New Balance sneakers that complimented her neutral-toned outfit. She wore a gray cropped top, knee-length distressed shorts, and a white fitted cap to match. “We’ll be out for a while. I know a good lunch place not too far away if you want to go later.”

Naomi smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

-

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!’ Naomi refrained from touching the meticulously handcrafted bust in front of her. Her eyes gleamed with wonder and adoration. She adored museums. They were where art and history kissed and refused to gasp for air. There was nothing like it.

From behind her, Jude nodded slowly, not paying much attention to the busts, but rather her child-like excitement and sun-like glow. He could have cursed himself for doing all of this for a woman he’d met less than 36 hours before, but the feeling deep within him outweighed the logic his brain tried to present him with.

A pretty woman whom he just happened to speak to at dinner had agreed to let him take her around Madrid for vacation. Just as he did, she’d taken such a liking to him that she agreed to spend time with him until she left ten days later. He had ten days to be in her presence and he’d been damned if he let his mind ruin it.

“Yeah,” Jude spoke up after some time, his eyes following her. “Very beautiful.”

-

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naomisinclair such a beautiful city

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adyajalyn girl who took that picture and who’s arm is that

— naomisinclair 🌚

adyajalyn you go out of the country once and start befriending strangers like a dumbass

adyajalyn is he cute though?

— naomisinclair very

judeb pretty

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— naomisinclair judeb thank you boo

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-

“So, do you plan on returning to Madrid in the future?” Jude asked as they walked in a local park, hand in hand. Naomi tilted her head to the sky and swung their hands together. “Or was this a one-time trip?”

“I’ll be back. Especially if I have a reason to return.” She turned her head to meet his eyes, which were already awaiting hers. She saw something within them--excitement, interest, and desire. It made her stomach clench and her face grow warm. “So, hopefully, I will.”

The wheels began to turn in his mind. She’d be gone in ten days. He’d go on break in fourteen days. Would he be insane to try and get to know a woman who was nowhere near Madrid? Maybe. But, who doesn't like a little crazy?

After some time, Jude spoke up, “I’d like to think you will.”

Her eyes twinkled. She said nothing after that but the step she took closer to his body said more words than her mouth could and he accepted it gratefully.

-

“You can come in if you’d like,” Naomi said shyly as they stood outside the door of her hotel. Her fingers fondled her braids as she awaited his response.

Jude’s lips spread in a content smile as he nodded. “I appreciate that. Give me some time to shower and I’ll be back.”

Naomi grinned like a kid in the candy shop. They exchanged their goodbyes and she was left to freshen up and keep her mind occupied as she waited for his arrival.

Shortly after her shower, she got a phone call from Adya, whose face was filled with interest as she immediately asked, “Who is he?”

Naomi chuckled, “Well hello to you, too. And to answer your question, he’s a nice guy I befriended at dinner one day. Just showing me around the city. And before you call me a dumbass, yes I know it was dangerous.”

“As long as you know,” Adya shrugged. She then smiled softly. “Is he treating you nicely at least? Not a total creep?”

Naomi nodded. Jude was more than nice. He was incredibly kind and attentive. The thought of her leaving the following week drove her mad but she tried her best not to ponder on it too much. She’d enjoy the present moment.

“He’s a nice guy. Sucks that I’ll leave, but that’s why I’m just basking in the moment.”

Adya hummed. “If you’d like to make it work, it could be possible. Would take a lot of effort, but it could work if you both wanted it to. I think you might have to build a friendship first, though.” That drew a small laugh from Naomi who agreed wholeheartedly.

Just as she was peeped to respond, his name dropped down from a banner.

Jude

— Hey, pretty girl. I’m outside.

Adya, not blind to Naomi’s sudden grin, hollered and said, “Girl, go talk to that man and call me in the morning.”

“Bye Ady!”

Naomi tossed her phone on the bed and kept off the mattress. She patted her braids, soothed her sweatshirt, wriggled her manicured toes, and strode toward the door, opening it wide.

Jude stood on the other side, a smile on his face as he held up a dark bag. “I come bearing gifts.” Naomi moved out his way and allowed his entry. “This is a nice room.”

“Thank you. The booking company gave me hell so they upgraded me to a suite.” Naomi pointed to his bag and tilted her head to the side. “What do you have there?” She sat on the bed and he joined her.

“Heard through the grapevine you like popcorn, chocolate, and good movies.” Out of the bag came varieties of chocolate, a large bag of popcorn, and his laptop, fully equipped with any streaming service of her choice. “Figured we would watch one or two together.”

Naomi grinned like an idiot for the hundredth time that day. He was so considerate it almost hurt. Without much thought, she said, “I could kiss you right now.”

The way Jude’s eyes widened made her heart quicken but the feeling of his lips on hers shortly after caused it to nearly burst in her chest.

He was such a good kisser, she noted, appreciating how he took control yet was very gentle with her. His hands didn’t roam below her waist and he didn’t try to force his tongue down her throat. It was the perfect blend between respectful and polite and grown and sexy. Just as she liked it.

“I like you,” he whispered some time after they pulled away. Naomi’s eyes softened at his confession. She noted how he tried to catch his breath, how his cheeks were rosy from his body temperature rising, how his lips were slightly swollen and smeared with her lip gloss. He was so beautiful.

“Jude…”

He didn’t let her finish. “I like you and it’s crazy because it’s been less than 48 hours but Naomi, there’s just something about you.” Swoon. “You’ll go back home and I’ll be here, but I want to see what my life could look like with you in it. Give you a reason to come back.”

Naomi laughed lightly. Not because anything he said was funny, but because of the insanity of it all. She’d fallen head first for a man she’d known for two days and blushed at every word he said like his sentences were crafted by Shakespeare.

“I like you too,” she admitted. “And I feel crazy saying that because we’re strangers.”

Jude’s eyebrows raised as he nodded. That was the unfortunate fact, but, “We’ve got a few more days to become more than strangers.”

And that they did.

-

“Jude!” Naomi squealed as he tapped her shoulder, causing her to fall in the pool. She didn’t get the opportunity to wipe the water from her eyes before Jude jumped in beside her. She squealed loudly then giggled when he scooped her into his arms.

“That wasn’t nice,” she said, pouting playfully. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her manicured fingers combed through the thick curls on his head, an action that made his eyes flutter. “I’m gonna get you back.”

“Is that so?” he asked, fingers caressing her thighs that were locked around his waist. Naomi nodded, eyes dropping to his lips. “Gonna have to get me first.”

Naomi, as flirtatious as ever, only has to bat her eyelashes a few times and brush her lips against his for him to crumble immediately. The perfect way to get him distracted enough to wriggle herself from his grip and dunk his head into the water.

“Oof!”

Her laugh was loud and boisterous, but he enjoyed hearing it all the same. Jude wiped his eyes when he came up from the water and gave her a look. Naomi giggled as she tried to back away, but her movement was restricted by the water.

Once again, she was scooped into his arms. “You play dirty,” he said. “I like it.”

Naomi smiled. The feelings she felt with him were unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Her face always hurt from smiling, she felt giddy whenever he arrived at her door or called her phone. How would she possibly be able to deal with the distance?

-

“I’ve got to go, Jude, or I’ll miss my flight,” Naomi whispered, tugging her hand out of his grasp gently. “I’ve got to go.”

The dreaded day had arrived. Naomi had to go back home and they’d be without each other (physically) until their schedules aligned again. It was something neither of them wanted to think of but like always, time brought reality back to them.

“I don’t want you to go,” the footballer admitted, swinging their hands back and forth. Naomi smiled sadly, using her free hand to caress his face.

“I don’t want to go either, but we’ll call, text, and FaceTime as much as we can, and we’ll figure it out. We can figure it out.”

Jude’s lips parted to respond but her flight being called over the speakers cut him off. He sighed heavily. Naomi bit her lip to pierce her quivering lips. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jude replied. He pressed a kiss against her lips.“Call me when you land, alright?” Naomi nodded and took her roller bag in her hand and began to walk toward her gate.

“Bye Jude.”

He waved sadly.“I’ll see you soon, Naomi.”

-

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naomisinclair until next time, madrid.

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— alexandraaaaa you knew she got a footballer fr in madrid and didn’t say anything??!

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judebellingham 🩵

— naomisinclair can’t wait to see u again

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— judebellingham in due time, love

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saturnville and so it begins!

-

[verysium]

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡

[lunarw0rks]

hi!! just wanted to stop in and give an idea ig

141 with a reader who’s like a mother hen after a mission, making sure everyone’s not injured, and god forbid they are, she’s trying to stop the bleeding, and scolding soap for being so reckless!! even after they get back to base after a long day, she’s fussy.

IDK JUST A RANDOM BLURB??

A/N: Such a cute idea, not one I would've thought of on my own! Hope I did the request justice <3

Summary: It's in your nature, the motherly role you feel towards the other members of the Task Force. Patching up their injuries, and scolding the two most reckless ones, it's all become routine.

Warning(s): platonic!141, fem!reader, canon-typical violence, blood/minor injury mention, mild language, suggestive banter, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.1k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Troublemakers // Drabble

Though you hadn’t said a word on the ride back, at least outside of ones pertaining to the operation, the look on your face said enough. For every mission, no matter the time and place, something goes wrong—someone gets hurt.

“Anybody broken?” Captain Price comes through the comms, the static crackling through the jeep.

“Everybody’s fine, Captain. For now.” Your voice hissed back into the radio, eyes scanning their faces for any signs of an injury. Right now, there weren’t any signs. But the second this jeep stopped, there was no way in hell they were getting past you without you at least checking. It had become your unofficial job; the mother of the team, the medic without an official title, even the ‘buzzkill’ at some points.

There was no time to fuss over them at first, during evac. Everyone had piled into the vehicles too quickly, and you were eager to get out of there just as much. You were a natural nurturer, but not blinded by your instincts—there was a chain of command, after all. When your Captain says to evac, you evac, no questions.

Once the titles and formalities fizzled out, once the comms went quiet, that side of you always came out.

The jeep was moving at high speeds, and the passing landscape was a blur. A secluded, abandoned field where the operation went wrong; the taperings of town turning into the city; fizzled out until it turned into the secluded dry field again—when you reached the base.

In usual fashion, everyone got out first, and you last.

It was second nature, ushering them out like a clown car, then examining the inside of the empty vehicle to make sure nobody forgot anything. It was comical to them, so comical they still shot amused looks as you cased the car. Any further into this role, and you would start saying “C’mon kids” every time you went somewhere with them.

Another challenge to their chivalry was the way you held the door open for each of them, eyes glued to them as pursed your lips in discontent. But, they knew the drill just as well as you did.

First, you peered at Simon, though he just walked by with his usual scowl, probably finding a dark corner to brood in. He was the only one you didn’t bother to fuss over, unless you wanted to get chewed out, naturally.

It was the other two you were the most concerned about—Gaz and Soap, the troublemakers. If you could call them that in the field, you would have a thousand times already, and most likely more than that, knowing them.

Heavy sighs filled the room, sweaty brows wiped as they relieved their bodies of the extra pounds their gear gave them. Vests and buckles undone, muscles stretched as the adrenaline coursing through each of you steadied itself.

For once, you were also overjoyed to see the bland walls of this base, and them too, as much as they gave you grief. Each mission was like watching a toddler climb up to the top of a playset, waiting for the inevitable injury that comes once they fall—and every time, your hammering heart nearly came through your chest.

Yes, they were grown men, trained soldiers, but that instinct still prevailed. You couldn’t trust them with your life if they didn’t have theirs, could you? The world kept turning, and the clocks kept ticking, all as long as you played your maternal part in this arrangement.

You squinted at the two troublemakers, that gut instinct showing itself. “You sure nothing went wrong, you two? No blood?” It was a series of accusations, not naive questions. You knew something was up, there was that bubbling in your chest.

Gaz’s lip tightened into a line like he was trying not to reveal the truth. “No blood.” What a liar, and a bad one at that. Knowing these two, Soap was probably pinching his skin where you couldn’t see, trying to contort it until you were left with no suspicions.

There was no way you could force the truth out, so if they didn’t want your help, they weren’t getting it from you.

With a slow nod, you began to take off your own gear, gathering your pack and all the extras. Perhaps, for once, it would be a happy ending. You would settle into your dorm, lay back on your cot, and catch up on some paperwork, maybe even some light reading—

Well, that fantasy came about as quickly as it went.

Soap’s palm was hovering over his side, letting out a grunt of pain when he put his backpack over his shoulders. He had turned so abruptly, nearly scampering down to reach his own dorm. But he wasn’t quick enough, and your iron grip on his wrist—it was as unyielding as your grit.

“C’mon, I’m fine, Lass.” Soap grunts, like a child embarrassed when his mother dabs his face with a napkin. “It’s just a—”

“—a scratch?” You scoff, lightly smacking your free hand against his tender side. No matter how tough he was, how well he thought he was going to hide it, he had keeled over and held the spot you barely made contact with.

Gaz was attempting to contain his laughter, which was only met with the kick of one of Soap’s legs to his shin.

You couldn’t believe it, from causing trouble and bickering to working as a team and failing miserably.

The grip on Soap’s wrist loosened, instead now on the strap of his bag, gently sliding it off his tender shoulder. “Let me look at it, please.” You pleaded, trying to keep your tone both firm but concerned all at once. It seems it wasn’t just a scratch; once again you were right.

“I got nothin’ but admiration for you, why do you do this to me?” Soap whines, still not budging and letting you examine the wounds.

You ran your tongue over the inside of your cheek, cocking a brow at him. “Sit down, Johnny. Now.”

Your finger was pointing at one of the spare dining chairs in the kitchenette, and it wasn’t a request either. He knew that by now. Soap could try and swoon you, butter you up until you left it alone, but it wouldn’t work.

“Yes, ma’am.” His tone was defeated, but he still had a smirk on his face, like he was enjoying the attention.

Gaz snickered from behind you, and you could hear him begin his trek out of the room. “Better to just listen to the lady, or she won’t stop.”

Before you could even lay eyes on Soap’s injury, your head snapped in Gaz’s direction. He was on just as thin of ice, he was only lucky you could tolerate his jokes. “You’re part of this too, Gaz. I suggest you don’t wander too far.”

It was ironic; men who had worked so hard, trained to kill, and yet, they were downright gutless when in your sights, especially when caught in a lie.

All apart from Simon, who maintained the same distance with you as everyone else—that you could accept, it was just the way he was. But from these two clowns? Not for a second.

It wasn’t coming from thin air, either, this was a two-sided deal. The first time you were injured in the field, you attempted to diminish it, to write it off and suffer by yourself. It went about as well for you as it was for Soap right now—forced into a chair and stitched up with an icy glare, one that says “don’t ever do that again” without any actual words surfacing.

That’s how you knew this wasn’t in vain, even if your work didn’t always come with a response of gratitude.

You were strong where they were weak—and in return, they would quite literally kill for you, in and out of the field. God knows you’ve had to hold them back more than a few times; order comes out wrong at the restaurant, you get ghosted after a date, or someone insults your abilities as a soldier? It’s a mess.

Your eyes stayed on Soap’s pout through the reflection of the window above the sink, scrubbing away the grime on your hands before you got to work on him. In mere minutes, you’d retrieved the very used first aid kit, laying out any supplies you might need. Knowing him, it could be as small as a papercut, or a gushing wound under the fabric of his shirt.

He had already removed his, cheeks rosy and lips crinkled like you hadn’t seen this a thousand times. Not to mention, you were patching him up, not asking for a striptease. He was the one making things awkward, for the record.

Aside from the dirt, the scars, and small scrapes, it was an injury that needed to be looked at, regardless of how stubborn the patient was. A nasty bruise was forming on his peck area and below it a gash with some tiny glass shards still embedded in it. The shoulder had no visible injury, but based on how tender the skin was, he had sprained it again.

“Christ. How do you manage this? It was a simple sweep mission, MacTavish.” You shook your head in disapproval, putting on a pair of disposable gloves with a loud snap of the blue latex.

He takes the hits like a dog that knows he’s in trouble, only it's a look of acceptance rather than apprehension. It was coming from a place of care, not anger, and by God did Soap’s reckless behavior make your heart drop often.

Your rambles continued, almost as if you were talking to yourself. Your fingers worked carefully, using the tweezers to get any debris out of there.

“Can you do anything about this, Captain?” Soap’s words made your work slow, not stop.

“No, I cannot, Sergeant.” Even Price was aware of this dynamic, and frankly, he was thankful for it, one less person to worry about getting in trouble. You scolded it, didn’t partake in it—and that left less paternal instincts of his own to run dry.

Price’s boots retreated without another word, probably to work tirelessly in his office for the rest of the night. Now, it was clear to Soap that there really was no way out of this, no way to shimmy away from your caring nature.

Might as well take advantage of it the only way he knew how. “You look like you need a drink, Lass. Always so tense.”

You stared up at him through your lashes, wrapping the gauze a little tighter than you usually would. What were you supposed to say to that? He was right, you could use a drink, but he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of being right—being right was your job.

Before you could utter a witty response, Simon spoke up for the first time since the mission. “She has a scalpel at the ready, Johnny. I would tread lightly if I were you.” For once, his cynical humor had landed on your side, and it nearly made you spit out a laugh, if you weren’t so focused.

If you were as childish as Soap, you might’ve said I told you so, but your stern look said enough. After you finished disinfecting the wounds, you bandaged them up, patting the cotton with your fingers to make it stick.

“All better now, just don’t do it again.” A satisfied beam appeared on your face, that worry in your gut dissipating when he was patched up. “Please?” Now, it was desperate and anxiety-filled.

He probably would do something like this again, but maybe next time he would at least think first, and you could live with that.

Soaps fingers find his shirt, slipping it over his head slowly with a pained groan. “I can’t promise that.” Then, they find the nearest bottle of whiskey, in true fashion for him. “But I’ll find you first next time, ask permission to get hurt.”

You scoffed and let out a sarcastic ha-ha, but stepped back enough to give him space, discarding the gloves into the waste basket. Once he had collected his things, keeping them in his uninjured arm this time, a cheek smirk appeared again.

He waited until you had turned your back to wash your hands again, and to be safe, a few feet further from you. “Thanks, Mom.” Soap turned on his heels and whipped around the corner, down the hall before you could show him your face of shock.

On second thought, maybe next time he wouldn’t have to ask to get hurt, and it would be your own two hands making him pay for that comment.

[lilacs-and-vanilla]

@shslsimpette commented on a different Spot post that they want an N$FW alphabet for the Spot 😈

Honestly I was thinking of making one of these because they seem very thorough. Great way to make a guideline for smut writing.

First one I’ve done before, and it was hard to get all of the words for the funky letters like Q and X. But anyways…

(god this took so long…)

N$FW Alphabet for The Spot/Johnathan Ohnn

All of the writing beyond this point is smutty

A - How good is he at aftercare?

He’s very doting.

“Did that feel good?” “Are you alright?” “Do you need anything?” “Let me get you some water.” “Do you want to rinse off?”

If you decide you want a bath, he will use his portals to (haphazardly) run you one so he doesn’t have to leave your side.

Cuddles and pillows and blankets galore, trying his best to make you comfortable.

B - What’s his favorite body part on you?

He likes looking at your face, studying your features and committing them to memory. Especially your eyes.

It completely stumps the both of you as to how he can perceive things like sight, scent, and sound without normal features like a nose or eyes or ears, but you won’t question it.

He doesn’t mean to stare, he really doesn’t. You can always tell when he is though, because the his face portal swirls in a different kind of way. What an interesting way to read someone.

He just likes your eyes, your freckles, your birthmarks, your scars, the features that set you apart from everyone else and makes you you.

The fact that he’s missing his own face adds to this little obsession. He misses his old body, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love you for yours.

It’s not entirely sexual, but he does like watching the way your face looks when you’re.. ahem. Enjoying yourself.

The way your eyes roll back, or the way your mouth hangs open, the drool and the tears. He loves all of it and he loves that he’s the one making you look that way.

C - Cum. Anything to do with that particular liquid.

He doesn’t excrete normal bodily fluids like saliva or semen. At least not anymore. Anything that comes out of him is dark and oozy.

If he’s overstimulated, all of his holes will start leaking. It can get a bit messy, especially on the sheets. Thank goodness it doesn’t stain fabric or skin…

He gets very embarrassed whenever he starts leaking (or sees it leaking out of you).

D - What’s his dirty secret?

He won’t admit it, but he’s stolen a few pieces of your clothing.

It’s proven that he can eat through the hole on his face and taste and sense spice. So I want to assume that he can also smell.

He likes to hold your clothes or your sheets over the hole in his face while he touches himself, sometimes even slipping some of the fabric in to get a taste.

But there was one time he got a little too carried away and now one of your favorite hoodies that you thought you lost is floating around in dark matter space somewhere.

He’s too ashamed to tell you.

E - Experience. How much does he have?

None. None whatsoever. At least not any hands on experience with partners other than you.

He’s seen enough p0rn (the good stuff, none of that over dramatic acting crap) to know what’s good or not. He knows what to look for, signs your close or if you’re uncomfortable.

In typical scientist fashion, he has his strategies and, in theory, he could easily keep you on the edge for as long as he wants or absolutely wreck you.

He just hasn’t mustered up the courage to put his plans into action though…

F - What’s his favorite position?

Ride him. Ride him. He likes seeing you on top of him.

He’s very vanilla when it comes to this. He doesn’t want you to twist or bend in uncomfortable positions.

But with that power of his, the ability to stick a limb through one hole and make it appear somewhere else? What else could he do…?

G - Goof or aloof? His general attitude.

He’s a goof. A whole nerd. What else would you expect of a scientist?

The only time he’s not is when he’s brooding, focused on revenge, on proving himself.

He wants to prove he’s not just some “Villain of the Week.” He wants to prove to you that he’s all you need.

H - Hair. How much does he have? Is he well groomed?

The poor man misses his hair, so he lives vicariously through yours.

He’s not particularly into hair pulling. He does enjoy this though:

Your head leaned back against a pillow on top of his fist as he grips the back of your head, holding it in place as he… (insert smexy scene that I can’t put into proper words right now).

When you’re both finished he likes to run his fingers through it, play with it, braid it, just touch it in general.

I - Intimacy. How is he in romantic aspect?

He tries to be romantic, and sometimes it works. Other times it comes off cheesy. That just makes you love him more though.

He’s a bit traditional. Flowers, candle light, cute little picturesque date night set ups (away from onlookers, obviously)

Secluded spots around the city like rooftops or museums and restaurants after they close.

And when you tell him it’s goofy shit like this that makes you want to absolutely destroy him in the bedroom, date night is normally cut a little short.

J - Does he jerk off?

He prefers to do it with you, but if he’s alone he’ll make do with his hands.

K - What are his kinks?

Edging. Edge him until all of his holes are leaking black ooze (call me weird, I have a vision). Edge him until he whines and cries and begs to cum.

Degrade him, but in a nice way. He won’t let anyone do it but you. Don’t call him pathetic. Don’t make him feel bad about himself. Make him feel like you’re in control. Like he can let himself go.

L - Location. What’s his favorite place to do it?

He’s down to do it anywhere as long as no one else is around.

And he can really go anywhere. Anywhere in your dimension or any other. Pick a spot, and he’ll take you there.

M - Motivation. What turns him on?

The edges of his holes are sensitive. If you touch the place where spot meets skin, he’ll squirm.

It feels like a tingle to him. A localized one.

Run your fingers along the inside of a hole on his palm and the feeling will shoot up his forearm. Do it on his stomach or his thighs or god forbid between his legs when his cock isn’t in use (he keeps it somewhere), and you’ll work him up real quick.

N - No, absolutely not. What turns him off? Something he won’t do?

He won’t participate in exhibitionism. He wants to be the only one to see you come undone. It’s all because of him after all. He should be the only one to witness it.

O - Oral. How does he feel about it? Giving? Receiving?

Seeing as though he doesn’t have a mouth anymore, he can’t eat you out. But he really, really wishes he could.

He was reluctant to let you put himself in your mouth, seeing as though he wasn’t sure if his strange ooze could be safely digested.

You were confident though, insistent you wanted it.

P - Pace. Fast and rough or slow and gentle?

It depends on how he feels.

If he’s feeling intimate and romantic, laid back, he’ll take things slow.

If he’s trying in that state of mind where he’s trying to prove himself to you, he will give it all he’s got to the point where he wears himself out.

Q - Quickies. How does he feel about them?

If you work him up in public, he will find somewhere in an alley or rooftop to bang one out. To bang you.

R - Does he take risks?

What’s a good villain without a few risks? And he wants to be a good villain. He just doesn’t think that applies to the bedroom.

There was the time he got a bit carried away, and in the middle of a particularly intense love making session, one of his portals opened involuntarily.

You immediately recognized your apartment building’s elevator. The mirrored walls, the carpet, the sliding doors closing behind a neighbor as they were leaving.

He apologized profusely and said he’d close it, but you told him to keep it open and he was too riled up to stop now. He was so close. Maybe just one more minute…

It was a sick, nerve-racking game of elevator roulette.

S - Stamina. How many rounds will he last?

He can last maybe two or three rounds when he’s on top. If you want more, you’ll have to take over, climbing on top of him and pressing him into the bed as you pull more out of him.

T - Toys. Does he use them? On you? On himself?

He’s a big fan of vibes. Whether it’s something that goes inside either you or him or something that slides around his cock.

Anything that gives off that extra little buzzy feeling.

He doesn’t like fleshlights. He’d rather be inside you.

U - “Unfair!” How does he feel about teasing? Giving? Receiving?

He’s absolute shit at dishing it out. He gets too flustered to tease you, even when he’s on top.

He’s also the “don’t bully me, I’ll cum” type. Tease him, degrade him (but be kind), call him your little cum puppy (Dalmatian comment reference?) and he will pass away.

V - How vocal is he? What sounds does he make?

Johnathan has a tendency to ramble during love making. One moment he’s drilling you or getting drilled by you, and the next he’s telling you fun facts about whatever comes to mind.

He doesn’t do it on purpose. His brain simply short circuits at some point. He goes with what he knows.

(Why don’t you turn it into a game? See how many facts he can name about a specific subject before he cums…)

In general, he’s very whiny. That coupled with all of the begging creates a perfect symphony.

Exhibit A: “Ohh fuck! Ah, youfeelsssoosogood.. please, (Y/N) please. m’ so close, please. don’t stop dontstopp aaahhn~”

W - Wild card. A miscellaneous headcanon.

As a part of the monster fucker fandom, of course anything that doesn’t have a standard cock has a tentacle one.

Anyways. Portal cock…

Enough said.

X - X Marks the Spot (kms for this joke). His favorite place to be touched.

Anywhere! He just wants you to touch him.

So many people think he’s scary or creepy. When you touch him, all of that goes away.

Y - Yearning. How high is his sex drive?

He’s not insane about it to the point where he constantly craves sex but when he gets in the mood he can be very needy.

Z - ZZZ… how long does it take to fall asleep after the deed is done?

If he’s been thoroughly fucked beyond his limit, he will pass out almost immediately after (after cuddling up beside you and making sure you’re comfortable)

Feel free to ask for different characters to write these for! (but maybe limit it to 4 or 5 letters…)

[delopsia]

lewis pullman characters as the weather

Forecast: ✰ Robert “Bob” Floyd, Rhett Abbott, Miles Miller, and Harrison Knott.

Robert “Bob” Floyd: Blizzards. The coziness that comes with waking up in your warm bed to find that a blanket of white has fallen outside. He's the rolling fog that paints your every breath, making his presence known in his own, subtle fashion.

He's got a heart that's often mistaken for being as cold as the ice that covers the lake, but nobody ever speaks of the crackling fire that roars beneath. His love comes in the form of blankets piled high on the couch and snuggling to conserve body heat.

At first glance, he's easily mistaken for the kind of guy who doesn't know the first thing about socializing and romance. A bookworm with a frosty heart who has never had the opportunity to be melted by the warmth of another. They never stick around long enough to realize that he's been the furnace all along, warming each and every person he spends time with.

Rhett Abbott: Thunderstorms. He's the wind that rips around the corners of the house and the thunder that shakes the ground. Everyone loves to say that he's pretty, that they love his brooding clouds and dark colors, but they sing a different tune once he becomes comfortable with them.

He loves with the same intensity of a twister tearing through a vacant pasture. Destructive and eye-catching and beautiful in its own strange way. He doesn't know the meaning of doing things halfway; subtlety is an art he has yet to master, instead screaming his every intention from the rooftops with the hope that it doesn't scare you away.

Everyone wants the dreary aesthetics but nobody wants the damage that can come with it. They love him for the recklessness that leads him onto the back of a thousand-pound animal, but not when blood pours from his knuckles after a bar fight. Everyone craves the ruggedness of his weather but not the mud that tracks in on his boots. They want lightning without the thunder, but to expect that is to split him into two.

Miles Miller: Sunshowers. Miles has always been a fickle little thing; it was a mild trait that only amplified itself with age and the traumas of war. It's hard to commit to rain or sunshine when his emotions jump from place to place like he's on a trampoline. He's the epitome of perfect middles and odd occurrences, rare antiques hidden in a yard sale, and rare, once-in-a-lifetime events.

He's the kind of guy that is easily missed if you're not paying attention. Little drops of rain on a sunny day aren't as eye-catching as one would think, and if you do take notice, it's difficult to pinpoint the source. But then you do, and it's like learning that the secret to the universe was at your fingertips all along, wrapped up in the fluttering blue eyes of a boy too shy to look at you.

It can be irritating when you're not in the mood for rain and damp clothes, but all it takes is one little glimpse at the rain sparkling in the crystal blue sky to remember what makes him so beautiful, to begin with. Perfect and shimmering for you and you alone.

Harrison Knott: Sunshine (and rainbows, with a side of fluffy clouds). He's so warm that getting too close can get you burned. Everything about him is hot; the heat that radiates off him when you're snuggled in bed, his hands always borderline sweating, the thick muscle that ripples across his chest and shoulders...

He walks around with a rainbow arcing over his head and a grin plastered across his face that no storm can dampen. He's the sun, and you're the moon, his light radiating off of you in his darkest moments, simultaneously guiding both of you to the end of the tunnel. You're trapped in each others orbit, spiraling off into eternity.

His smile is the kind of thing that blinds you. You never need a jacket because standing right next to him is enough to melt the frost nipping at your nose. He comes in the form of laughter and hugs, emerging in rays of it like sunlight peeking through the treetops. Some find him too warm, but you've become hopelessly addicted to it.

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 8

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 8/?

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: violence, death, swearing

*masterlist*

You kissed Azriel.

You kissed Azriel. Fucking. Shadowsinger.

And you have zero regrets.

The plan was to do anything to forget and prevent the bond from snapping with Tarquin. You hated making split decisions, but this worked perfectly in your favor. All thoughts of Tarquin and your nights together were smashed down into the depths of your memories. It’s been a day since the kiss, and you found yourself thinking about Azriel and how surprisingly soft his lips were for a hardened warrior.

You hadn’t seen him since that night, but you can imagine he was somewhere in the Night Court camps brooding in some dark tent. When you gave him the healer’s order not to fight in battle or fly until he was completely healed, he barely gave you resistance. Now that he’s had time to process the information, you were sure he was giving his High Lord a tough time about this. It must be torture knowing his friends and family were going into battle without him.

Thinking about Azriel’s well-being wholly consumed your mind because you ended up colliding with a tall figure. The apologetic smile slowly disappeared from your lips when you realized you had bumped into a grinning High Lord of Summer.

“What thoughts are occupying your brain, my lady,” said Tarquin teasingly. “It’s unlike you not to watch where you’re going.”

Even if he was poking fun at you, he still swept down to take your hand and kissed it in formal Dawn Court fashion. Your eyes almost popped out of your head as you watched his lips press against your skin.

“Tarquin! I- uh was just thinking about some preparations I must do for the battle,” you stammered. “What are you doing here?”

Tarquin gave you a lopsided grin. “I was on my way to speak to Thesan; would you like to accompany me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was on my way to check on the distribution of the anti-faebane compound. I’ll catch up with you later!”

Without waiting for him to respond, you spun around and sped walked toward the other side of camp. You were actually on your way to speak to your cousin, the warriors Wyla and Bersk were tasked to oversee the distribution of the compound to the camps, but Tarquin didn’t need to know that. You looked down at the hand he kissed and squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. Tarquin was a good friend, why did the mate bond have to come and ruin everything?

***

The hot sun beat down as you took a sip of water, you were looking off onto the blue ocean while ignoring the humans' gazes boring holes into your wings. You and other fae who could winnow were winnowing humans from the villages beyond the Wall all day long. Some humans went willingly, and some were violent and had to be subdued with magic. You frowned as you watched a family in the corner looking a little green, their eldest son still throwing up. They threw an iron spear at you, and you flicked it off like it was nothing. It wasn’t long until they were feeling too sick to pathetically attempt to end your life.

Thankfully, Tarquin was too busy dealing with the refugees in his court so there was little chance of running into him. Looking around, you see the familiar form of Morrigan who was leaning against the stone ledge and admiring the view. The last time you saw her, she was a blubbering mess who kept thanking you for saving Cassian’s life. You stood next to her and Morrigan turned to smile, she reached over and gave you a quick hug.

“My favorite healer!” she said enthusiastically. “Isn’t it beautiful here? I wish the world was at peace so I could lounge on the beach.”

You laughed as you both wistfully looked at the picturesque scene before you. There were beaches all over Prythian, but nothing could beat Summer.

Morrigan examined the soft glow that emitted from you. She felt indebted to the Golden Warrior that stood next to her, without you, her family's world would have fallen apart. Mor also saw the work you’d done to Azriel’s wings, the thought of the Shadowsinger made her smile fade.

“You should know that Illyrian patient of yours is being incredibly stubborn,” said Mor. “He keeps bothering Rhysand and Madja to give him a pass to fight tomorrow.”

Shaking your head, you gave Mor a timid smile. “I was afraid that was going to happen. I had a feeling that even if I told Azriel he can’t fight, he’d try to negotiate.”

“We can all beg him not to fight but nothing is going to stop him from doing what he wants. It has come to the point where Rhysand started threatening Az that he would chain him onto a tree.”

Laughter bubbled from your lips at the image. “Do you think he’ll disobey Rhysand? Azriel doesn’t seem like the type to disobey his High Lord.”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Mor. “I tried talking to him… sometimes he listens to me so I’m hoping he will.”

“I didn’t think he’d be this stubborn!” you exclaimed. You knew how bad his wings were, if he tried to fly too early, one wrong move could permanently damage the nerves in his wings.

“You’d be surprised,” snorted Mor.

The sound of distinct whispers makes you straighten up and whip your head around. Your sudden movement caused Morrigan to finally notice the shadowsinger.

The spymaster approached with a smirk on his lips. “If you’re going to talk about me behind my back, at least try to do it discreetly.”

Azriel found it bizarre to see the two of you standing together and laughing. The female he had loved for five hundred years and the mate he knew would be easy to love. It was his two worlds colliding and his chest constricted with emotion. Two beautiful females who didn’t seem to want him. Azriel was sure the bond would snap the moment your lips touched but it didn’t, his little dove was still so scared and resistant.

 “Hi Azriel,” you said softly. Feeling a little shy from the kiss, you turned around and kept your eyes on the crashing waves.

He stood next to you and leaned against the stone. “It’s frustrating that I can never spy on you again. My shadows gave me away, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, it was your shadows and good! I told you there would be repercussions if you tried to do it again. You can always come talk to me, I thought we established that already.”

“I didn’t forget, my lady, it’s just fun to tease you. Your forehead scrunches up and you start threatening people,” said Azriel as he peered at your furrowed brows.

 “Then don’t say or do things to make me threaten you in the first place!” You scowled while you smoothed your skin upwards with your fingers.

Morrigan watched Azriel and you banter, and her eyes lit up as she studied the two of you. She felt like she was intruding so she excused herself to get back to winnowing the humans from the villages.

“How are you feeling?” asked Azriel. “You ready for tomorrow?”

For the first time since the kiss, you looked deeply into his hazel eyes. “I’m fucking terrified. I was told to stop winnowing the humans because the High Lords wanted me to be well-rested for the battle,” you paused and took a breath. “Thesan wants me to unleash every drop of magic I can to poison Hybern. I still don’t know if I can do it at that magnitude.

Azriel took in your words and leaned closer. “Do you want to know one of the first thoughts I had when I met you? I thought you were incredible and the more I learned about you, the more impressed I was. For 49 years, you held your entire court together without the support of a High Lord. That’s pretty fucking powerful.”

You sighed, “I don’t know, Azriel. I’m scared I won’t be strong enough. What I have to do tomorrow may decide which side the scale will tip.”

Azriel watched your furrowed brow slowly return. He wished you didn’t have to take on this much responsibility and wished he could be fighting by your side. His shadows must have been thinking the same thing because they drifted to you. The wisps danced around your wings or intertwined themselves in your hair.

“You are one of the best warriors I have ever seen. I have a feeling that you’re going to be amazing tomorrow, I know it.”

You smiled at his confidence in you. It was nice to hear it after days of self-deprecating thoughts about your power. “Speaking about warriors—are you going to be stubborn and fight tomorrow?”

Azriel’s jaw set as he shook his head. “I’m furious that I won’t be there to help my brothers, Feyre, Amren, Mor, and… you. Morrigan begged me not to fight and frankly, I’m scared how badly you’ll both kick my ass if I do.”

You laughed and Azriel smiled. He wanted to listen to your laughter forever.

Nudging his arm, you tell him not to worry even though you know tomorrow is going to be a bloodbath. Comfortable silence fell between you, the only thing you could hear was the rhythmic crashing of water. The salty air smelled heavenly against the scent of cedarwood, the scent reminding you of that night.

“Are we going to talk about the kiss?” you blurted.

He felt his heartbeat quicken. “You said it was to distract from your potential mate… did it work?”

Azriel refrained from asking more questions about who the male was. He was afraid that if he knew the answer, he might do something he would regret.

“I think so… but I kind of feel bad about it. I hope it wasn't confusing for you. I’ve been considering you a friend, and I don’t want the kiss to make it awkward for the both of us.”

Friend.

His heart sunk at the word. Azriel peered down at your hopeful gaze. You seemed genuine about wanting to keep the friendship and Azriel would never want to lose that. He would rather be your friend forever and keep you in his life than never having you at all. He still had hope that one day you’d grow to love him but for now, this was enough.

“Don’t feel bad. I’ll always be happy to help you out with whatever you need,” said Azriel.

You beamed up at him. “Likewise.”

The two of you had a rocky start but that’s how you knew this friendship was going to be a great one. He earned your trust, and you earned his.

***

The cold crisp air was welcoming as you glid through the sky. Today was the big day. Potentially your last day. Instead of getting that extra hour of sleep, you wanted to make sure you watched today’s sunrise. It was beautiful, it was like the Mother knew that for hundreds of thousands, it would be their last, so she blessed the dawn sky. Pastel pink, blue, and orange were all you could see. You closed your eyes and basked as you savored the soft warmth of the sun.

One last look at the sky and then you dove down to go meet Thesan and Callon for breakfast. Meals with your cousin and his lover were usually joyful and filled with laughter but today, everyone was trying not to cry. Thesan and Callon were the ones you trusted most in the world. They were your family and the thought of either of them dying today was unimaginable. If something were to happen, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You lost your parents, and you couldn’t lose someone again, Thesan and Callon were all you had.

You looked at Callon who held Thesan’s hand so tightly, his knuckles were white. Blinking back tears, you looked down and stirred your anti-faebane-laced coffee for the hundredth time. Callon would die to protect his High Lord, he would die to protect you. His loyalty to your family and the Court ran deep but even if he wasn’t, Callon loved you both so dearly. You were beginning to think all forms of love weren’t worth it. This hurt too much.

“My cousin, my second-in-command,” said Thesan gently. “If something happens to me in battle- “

You try to cut him off, but he gives you a look that silences you.

“You are the only living immediate relative of mine and the most powerful faerie in Dawn Court after me. Thanks to Rhysand and his knack for breaking the rules, if I die, you will be High Lady and I couldn’t be happier that the role will be passed to you.”

Feeling like a child again, your lips trembled. “That’s not going to happen because you’ll survive this. All of us will.”

Thesan glowed brighter, his familial love for you was overwhelming. He couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you alone again or the fact that you may leave him. “I don’t plan on dying today. I just want you to be prepared, that’s all.”

Tears finally escape and you don’t stop to wipe them. You nodded and looked at Thesan, “My power… I don’t know if I can do that much damage. I want to save as many Prythian lives as possible, but I don’t know if I can do this,” you said truthfully.

“When the shields are down and it’s time to unleash your poison, I want you to think about everything you care about. Think about me, Callon, and your friends. Think of all the humans and faeries you will protect. Think about the Dawn Court and all its beauty. That’s what you’re protecting and trust me, you’ll find that power.” His voice was deep and soothing, and every word hit you in your chest. Maybe you can do this. If High Lord Thesan believed in you, there should be no reason to doubt.

The battleground was a sight to see, the five courts and their legions were marching or winnowing in. Hybern was in the distance, their large numbers slowly gathering but you paid them no attention.

The golden armor felt cool against your skin, the helmet snug on your head, and the flat of your sheathed sword tapping your thigh as you walked amongst the Peregryn Battalion. Callon and Thesan had just finished their speeches to the soldiers, and they wanted to reserve the last one for the Golden Warrior. In the almost 50 years of Thesan’s absence from the throne, you were their leader, their Lady. They respected you and were honored to wear the same armor as you did.

They stood in attention as you made your way to the front, you gazed at the rows of soldiers with an aura of confidence and viciousness. The weeping lady from breakfast was long gone and was replaced with the fierce protector.

“May you all fly high and strike swiftly. May our blades and strength slay our enemies. May the Mother above protect us.” Your voice reverberated through the air. Everyone within a mile radius had their skin riddled with goosebumps as they felt your power radiate from you. “Hybern wants to take away the balance of our country and bring chaos. Let’s show them it’s not so easy to do so. Some of us may fall today, some of us may not. Fight hard and watch each other’s back, I will see you all on the other side.”

Last-minute preparations were being made while the rest of the court's armies were arriving. Callon handed you a scroll and told you to deliver it to the Illyrian General, your fae eyes tell you that winnowing would be faster. Honing on the image of Cassian, you winnowed next to him, but he didn’t immediately look at you, he was looking at the sight of Azriel handing the Truth Teller to Elain. You followed his eyes and realized that everyone was staring at Azriel and Elain.

Raising a brow, you tapped the scroll against Cassian’s chest to get his attention. “Callon wanted you to have this, I think it’s about flight formations.”

Shaking his head, he apologized and took the scroll from you.

“Why is everyone staring at them?” you asked peering at the Archeron sister you have yet to meet. She was looking at Azriel with big doe eyes and annoyance momentarily flared in your chest.

Cassian looked down at you and then back at Azriel. “Um—Azriel never lets anyone touch the Truth Teller. It’s just a strange sight, maybe he feels like his dagger would help her feel safer.”

You examined the doe-eyed fae, she looked like she had never held anything that sharp in her life.

It was then that Azriel’s shadows noticed your presence, they darted towards you, and you laughed when you heard their squeals of excitement. They floated around and whispered; they were admiring the golden armor that covered you. Azriel looked up and smiled when he saw you standing next to Cassian. He immediately limped his way to you, leaving the Archeron sister to curiously look at the newcomer with the white and gold wings.

You asked Cassian how his healing was, and Azriel rolled his eyes when Cassian pulled up his leathers showing you his toned abdomen with a giant scar running down the middle. You cast a hand over and smiled as you sensed that all his healing was done.

“You’re all good, but the scar might stay, it was too deep of a wound and--.”

“Don’t worry about it,” interrupted Cassian. “It’ll be a good reminder to follow orders. You know, I will never be able to thank you enough for saving my life. I wouldn’t be here without you, consider me indebted to you.”

You smiled at the General. “Make sure you survive; I’d like to take you up on that offer one day.”

Rhysand called Cassian over which left you and Azriel alone. You noticed he was still wearing Illyrian leathers and his siphons but no helmet in sight. He watched you notice the absence of his protective gear and he rolled his eyes at your approving nods.

“Have you come here to gloat and show off your armor?” joked Azriel.

“Ha. I’m not that cruel, Azriel. I can’t imagine how hard it is to stand back and do nothing,” you said sincerely. “I think it’ll make everyone feel better knowing you’re safe so in a way, you’re still helping.”

You looked at Elain who was holding Azriel’s dagger delicately, wary of the sharp parts.

“Cassian told me you have a name for that dagger, what was it again? Truth-something?”

“It’s Truth-Teller,” replied Azriel.

Blinking up at him, a small mischievous smile formed on your lips. “That’s dramatic. Do people get intimidated by that?” He looked so dumbfounded, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

“Actually,” he said with feigned defensiveness. “They do get intimidated by the dagger and my reputation. I guess you wouldn’t know about it because you’ve been living under a rock and can poison anyone and anything.”

Your head tipped back, and a hearty laugh comes out making Azriel grin. The entire morning had been filled with tears and stoicism, it felt good to laugh, it almost made you forget the battle was minutes away.

Azriel pointed to the ornate sword attached to your waist. “You can’t tell me something like that doesn’t have a name!”

You unsheathed the sword and brought it between you and Azriel. “You got me there,” you said as you tapped the three pearls near the hilt. “Her name is Deception, it used to be my father’s. He told me he called her Deception because she seems delicate and pretty but…when in the right hands, she’s also a killer and destroyer of armies.”

Azriel ran a scarred finger across the gold engravings on the blade. It was clean now but, in a few hours, it would be stained red.

“Just like her owner,” he said with a smirk.

A snort comes out and you quickly sheath the sword to distract from the reddening of your ears.

“I have to get back to the Peregryns, make sure we’re ready for the skies,” you said grimly.

Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes scanning and committing every inch of your face to memory. He refused to believe this might be the last time he would see you. He wished you had more time, maybe...just maybe you might fall in love with him. Pushing away his useless dreams, Azriel looked at his beautiful mate.

“Please be careful,” said Azriel, his voice wavering slightly.

You were surprised by the emotion packed in his words; you swear his eyes were glistening. “I’ll be okay,” you reassured. “Just know that if I see you on the battlefield, I’ll fly down and kick your ass.”

Azriel’s lips twitched into a smile and then you winnowed, leaving a faint scent of lilacs.

Not too far away were the figures of Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre huddled by a supply caravan pretending to be in a conversation. Feyre had learned you were Azriel’s mate a couple of days after the males found out. Cassian was giddy at all hours of the day, Rhysand kept pestering Azriel, and whenever Feyre saw the shadowsinger, he would be engulfed in shadows with his eyes staring off into the distance. It didn’t take long before Feyre could coax the answers out of her mate.

Because Azriel was Azriel, they had no solid idea how your relationship was progressing. So when they heard your banter, they all bit back smiles, they’ve never heard him talk this much. It gave them even more reasons to fight for their future, and their family's happiness.

***

             The sheer size of Hybern’s army was staggering. There was no point trying to skew your perception to make you feel better. It was just a fact that Hybern had the larger army, but it didn’t mean Prythian didn’t have a few tricks up her sleeves.

The High Lords had ordered you to go to the front lines for the magic portion of the battle. Thesan didn’t like the idea of you standing too close to the Bone Carver, so he wanted you in the air. Your cousin was scared for you, but you were more concerned about how much power you could unleash.

You hovered close to the Bone Carver, curiosity making you look at the creature as he stared back at you with black eyes. Legends say he appeared differently to everyone and what you saw was a female. You weren’t sure if she was fae, she seemed otherworldly, beautiful, and ancient. She looked like death, not in the sense she looked ill and weak, she was death personified. You found that the longer you looked at her, the sense of dread rose like bile in your throat.

The Bone Carver could feel the sharp darkness from you and cocked its head. “Peculiar,” murmured the Bone Carver.

Before you could ask what he meant, something next to you materialized, with a hand on the hilt of your sword, you turned to see an even more terrifying creature.

Bryaxis.

You’ve heard scary stories about him in your youth, it was a creature that parents used to make their children behave. You remember only feeling safe from the creature once you learned it had been imprisoned in Night Court for centuries. Its dark shadowy figure loomed over you despite hovering a couple of feet from the ground. You heard shocked murmurs coming from both sides, no one was expecting this.

Steeling yourself, you looked at Bryaxis and dipped your head, even if you wanted to run for the hills. While glamoured, Bryaxis had the time to examine you, it felt that overwhelming power the Bone Carver talked about. There was something else, there was something familiar about you, but it couldn’t place it. You seemed too young to have met it before it was imprisoned.

You guess there was more excitement because next to the Bone Carver, appeared the Weaver. She was young and pretty unlike the stories you’ve heard of an old hag, meaning she must have feasted recently. She paid no attention to you; she was more occupied with the seemingly stunned Bone Carver.

“Golden warrior,” hissed Bryaxis.

The whisper of Bryaxis felt like insects crawling up your neck. You narrowed your eyes and looked at its terrifying face. You tried not to stare at its huge claws as it blinked and studied your figure.

“Yes?” You thanked the mother your voice didn’t tremble.

“If you are what I think you are, I have met you before,” hissed the creature. You weren’t even sure if its mouth was moving, you think it responded to you like a daemati.

“That’s impossible, I would have remembered.”

“No!” growled Bryaxis. “Not you, your predecessor.”

Your eyes widened at his admission. What did he mean? Has he met your parents? You asked but it ignored your questions. It started to whisper something nonsensical about war and killing as it looked toward the terrified Hybern soldiers.

Atop a grassy knoll, Azriel gawked as he watched you interact with the immortal creatures. Everyone around him sucked in a breath when he saw you speaking to Bryaxis. Rhysand could tell Azriel was itching to intervene, drag you away from danger so Rhys stood next to his brother.

What the hell is she doing? thought Azriel. Is she not scared?

He could tell both armies were watching you, some Prythians knew who you were but this set of Hybern soldiers were bewildered. Their soldiers probably couldn’t tell what was so special about this winged female, their shields preventing them from feeling your power. They wondered about your place amongst these dark immortal creatures. The soldiers in the front began to feel uneasy about the seemingly normal faerie.

The earth started to shake as the High Lords and Hybern started using their magic to take down the shields. Giving up on getting answers from Bryaxis, you took this as your cue to get ready. You flew high enough to the point where you could see most of Hybern’s army. Your wings flapped steadily as you looked forward and emptied your mind, ridding any feelings of uncertainty.

With your palms facing Hybern, you think of all the faeries you were protecting behind you. Gold and bronze light slowly leached from your skin and turned to wisps, each thought of your family, friends, and court made you glow brighter. The swirling wisps extended from your body and the enemy gulped at your display of power. Thesan, who was concentrating on using his magic to take down the shields grinned maniacally as he saw what his cousin was capable of.

Breathing deeply and slowly, you extended your arms out to the sides as more power gathered in your core. You think of the innocent children; faeries and humans who deserved a peaceful life ahead of them. The power that surged in and around you felt insane, you don’t think you’ve conjured this much energy in your entire life. You felt vicious and you were counting down the seconds you could get your hands on the Hybern bastards.

The moment you felt Hybern’s shield fall, you roared as power erupted from your body. The light you emitted was strong enough to blind a faerie if they didn’t close their eyes fast enough. Gold and bronze flung out as you slashed your arm in the air and then the screaming started. Your magic was faster than the dark creatures below you, so Hybern tasted your death first. Soldiers gurgled on their own blood as they bled from every orifice, some screamed in agony as their insides liquified, and others just dropped dead.

There was so much energy thrumming inside you and this time, something felt different, like you had unlocked a new ability. Out of instinct, you raised a hand, and a pulse of gold wisps hurtled towards the target. Moments before the blast hit Hybern, the wisps turned into a thick bronze mist that hung heavily in the air. You could barely see through the fog but when it cleared, a gasp escaped your lips. Piles of bodies lay unmoving on the ground; the mist had killed everything in its path forcing Hybern’s armies to split into two.

Hundreds of bodies turned into thousands, and the Court’s armies roared their war cries. Now that Bryaxis, Bone Carver and the Weaver had crossed enemy lines, the sounds of screams became louder. Prythian soldiers marched forward and began to fight. You stayed in the air sending blasts of your poison hoping it would reach and weaken those in the back. Once you felt your magic sputter, you fell back and flew to the Peregryn and Illyrian legions.

The Peregryn commander grasped your arm and brought you close. “Holy shit, y/n! I knew you could do it!” grinned Callon.

You panted and rested your head on Callon's shoulder for a moment. “I didn’t know I could do that!”

“I hope you have more fight in you, my lady. We start aerial attacks in 60 seconds.”

The wicked smile on your face was enough of an answer for Callon. You unsheathed Deception and poised your arm ready for anything.

The booming orders of Callon and Cassian first sent the archers and then the rest of the legions charging toward the Attors who were making their way toward you. Everything felt like a blur as the winged squadrons plummeted to the earth and took the fight to the ground. Magical shields were useless against ash arrows, forcing everyone to switch to physical shields. You were immediately splattered with blood, but you didn’t care as long as it wasn’t yours.

You moved in a deadly dance with anything that came close to you whether it was a soldier, Attor, or hound. It was rhythmic and sometimes you didn’t even have to think, it was all instinct. You spotted a squad of Peregryn warriors having trouble with Attors about a hundred feet into the air. With a twitch of your wings, you shot up to the sky and showed no mercy to the clawed creatures.

You were catching your breath and preparing to dive down into the fray when you swear you heard someone calling your name. Brows furrowed, you looked toward the Prythian side. You heard it again, it sounded desperate and guttural, and your wings and body felt compelled to follow the direction of the voice. A second later, you see Cassian with his flaring siphons shoot up near you and start flying as fast as he can toward Rhysand.

“What is he doing?” you murmured.

Then, something in the air shifted, something powerful and ominous from over the hill on the Hybern side. You looked back at Cassian’s frantic figure getting smaller in the distance.

Something was wrong and you didn’t like it.

“FALLBACK!” you roared. “FALLBACK!”

The Peregryns and Illyrians who heard immediately withdrew and followed you in the skies. You felt searing heat behind and just before a white light reached you, you thrusted your magic outwards creating a bubble of protection around the Peregryns and Illyrians closest to you. Those with siphons locked their magic into your shield at the same time. The siphon shields and your magic held on just long enough to hurtle you and those under your protection backward into the sky. Once your wings stabilized, you cried out in horror as you saw the ashes of thousands of Illyrians and Peregryns drift to the ground.

You wildly looked around for Callon, your eyes wide with fear as you scanned the disoriented Peregryns and Illyrians. It was Callon who found you, his hands reaching for your shoulders needing to see for himself you hadn’t been killed.

“Find Thesan,” ordered Callon, his voice desperate. “Dawn needs a future, and you are its future. Find Thesan and stick with him… I’ll feel better knowing you’re together.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Callon has never, ever spoken to you in that tone before. He respected your rank and title in the court and Dawn’s royal family. This was the voice of a commander who knew that whatever that blast was, was something you could not beat.

“But what about- “

“We’ll be okay, we’ll integrate with the Illyrians, and Wyla and Bersk can help me manage what's left of our legion,” said Callon. He paused; his eyes begging you to listen to him. “Please.”

With a nod goodbye, you turned around and sent out two sharp whistles. A second later, you heard Thesan’s response toward your left. You winnowed next to him, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. In a similar fashion to Callon, he cradled your face and looked you over for injuries.

“I thought you were gone. The blast-- I thought I lost you,” said Thesan. He was panting from magical exhaustion and his eyes were glistening at the thought of your death.

Your lip trembled before you forced a smile onto your face. “I would be if you didn’t call my name.”

Thesan shook his head. “That wasn’t me… I mean I heard someone scream your name, but I was too busy holding the shields over the foot soldiers.”

“Then who was it?”

Thesan’s eyes flickered toward the shadow that discreetly held onto the shoulder of your armor. It was expertly placed, somewhere you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking for it.

“I don’t know,” replied Thesan. “It doesn’t matter now, what’s important is you’re here.”

Thesan filled you in on what was happening, he explained that Spring, Autumn, and human armies had joined in. Hybern was using the Cauldron to target the death gods which was one of the reasons why Thesan wanted you near him. It was strange to be on this side of the battle, the part where the High Lords and their second in command stayed back to delegate and fight only when needed.

Everywhere you looked was filled with chaos and death. Prythian armies were slowly getting overwhelmed and just when things couldn’t get worse, Rhysand sent out a magical warning that Hybern ships were approaching your side. Flying over to where Rhysand and his court were standing on the cliffside, you gathered your power and sent out bursts of poison toward their armada. You could hear the screams of agony and bodies dropping on the decks, but it wasn’t enough. Your power couldn’t reach that far out, and more ships were coming your way. Your magic reserves were always quick to restore but this was a battle, you were never going to have enough. Tapping into everything, you managed to conjure the bronze mist, but it was only enough to cover one ship.

You staggered forward, panting from exertion. Cassian placed a hand on your elbow and pulled you down to sit. “Rest,” he insisted. “You’re going to do more bad than good if you completely deplete yourself.”

You looked at him and saw the same guilt that you felt. You had both survived the blast and there was nothing you could do to change that.

Your gasps for breath were slowly turning into hyperventilating sobs. Until now, the shadow on your shoulder had stayed quiet to avoid detection. It chittered reassuring words but you were too occupied to notice.

“If I don’t do something we’re all going to die sooner or later,” you said bluntly.

Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta looked at each other solemnly, they knew you were right. Rhys almost called for Azriel to come back and be here with you, but he couldn’t, he needed Azriel to be within the northern flanks.

Concentrating on refilling your energy, you tried to block out the voices of Night Court and stared at the daunting sea. You had managed to take down fifteen ships, all of them crashing together now that there was no one to steer them. Your poison slowed Hybern but in thirty minutes, you were sure the rest would make their way to shore.

You were feeling completely hopeless until the sounds of horns announced the arrival of thousands of white-feathered Seraphim and countless warships from different nations. Their presence had tipped the scale, and it gave Prythian a fighting chance. With a renewed sense of energy and spirit, you and Thesan fought hard as the battle reached you.

It was interesting to fight amongst white-feathered fae, the Peregryns grinning whenever a Seraphim jumped in to help them. You fought wherever the battle would take you, sometimes next to Thesan or several feet above.

The smell of blood and screams of mercy overtook your senses and it began to get overwhelming again, the chaos never ending. You knew you were going to see Peregryns die, you thought you were prepared but you weren’t. Screaming in horror, you watched Wyla’s limp bloodied body dive toward the earth. She was one of the best warriors you had ever seen and now she was gone.

You don’t think you’ve stopped moving, one hand holding your sword and the other hand shooting magic. You would see a Prythian soldier faltering and either you or Thesan would send your magic to heal whatever it could.

Heal, stab, poison, slash, and heal again. It was a never-ending cycle, and you were beginning to think Hybern may be winning again. As long as Hybern had the Cauldron, you were afraid Prythian would fall. You overheard Feyre and Amren talking about going to the Caudron and you prayed to the Mother they had a plan.

You had just killed an Attor, its head was still in your hand as you watched its body plummet to the ground. A cry came out of your lips when you saw all High Lords had transformed into their monstrous beast forms. You saw an obsidian-winged beast, a golden-winged creature with razor-sharp talons but what made you stagger in the air was Thesan in his gold and white phoenix form. The beast form was the High Lords’ last case scenario, and this only meant one thing.

Prythian was losing.

Even if you were exhausted and bloody, you kept going. You refused to die today. You had dived into the Attor legion, killing swiftly and quickly. A glimmer of blue cobalt shined in the corner of your eye and when you turned to look, a gasp escaped your lips. Fighting alongside the obsidian beast and the white and gold phoenix was Azriel.

What the hel is he doing? Anger boiled within you at the sight of the blue-siphoned Illyrian. He’s not healed yet, he’s going to get hurt.

You noticed he was getting surrounded by Hybern creatures and before you could dive down, you felt claws grab onto your wings. Your eyes went wide as you tried to turn but it was too late, claws had dug into your back and left wing as if it were trying to rip your wing off. A blood-curdling scream erupted, and you flailed trying to get the creature with your sword. An Attor popped up in front of you and just as you tried to hit it with poison, something pierced into your stomach. Before it could fully drive in its dagger, something bright, scorching, and fiery flew close to you.

Then you were falling.

You couldn’t move, you had no control over the only thing that could stop you from falling to your death. Your hands reached out and clawed the air as if there was an invisible rope you could latch onto. Terrified panic was the only thing you felt, like many times before, you were alone and left to your own devices. No one was going to catch you.

All you could see was the blur of your arms and blood-stained wings as you hurtled to the ground.

It won’t be too long now, you thought. The impact will kill me.

There was nothing you could do so you closed your eyes.

a/n: Hello! Don't forget to comment and reblog, I love love love reading your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading :)

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Take Me To Church ||

Pairing: Skinny Choirboy!Steve Rogers | Dark!Reader.

Description: You're the giggle at a funeral; everybody's disapproval, and yet, all Steve wants to do is to give you his life. 

Disclaimer: This is a dark AU. It will contain dark and mature content. Browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): None in this chapter. But they will contain noncon/dubcon and the like. Reader intimidates Steve but that is what he subconsciously likes so much. 

Note: No physical descriptors will be used for the reader but she has a gothic fashion style because of the plot. I humbly request your feedback as it motivates me. And I appreciate reblogs because they help circulate my work, thank you!

MASTERLIST

I

Mass was almost over. And as Steve watched the preacher with a content and almost proud smile -for the man at the dais was no other than his own paternal uncle, the whispered chatter that was followed by the brief opening of the church doors made him turn his golden head in the direction of the ‘suppressed’ commotion. 

The minute Steve's eyes found the source of the little disturbance, his blue eyes narrowed at the scene that Mrs. Y/L/N did her best to cover up with a much too enthusiastic smile coupled with the directing of a laser beam hyperfocus upon his uncle the minute she sat back down in her seat. When the brooding figure next to her did not budge and continued to loom over her in the same spot it had been dragged inside to stand in, the woman roughly pulled it down beside her without averting her gaze. 

And just like that, regardless of how obscene you looked in your smeared violet lipstick that your mother had tried to wipe off before hauling you back into mass when she realized you had snuck off while she was busy making small talk with your neighbors, Steve's heart fluttered. Oblivious to his tender gaze watching you in the most profoundly wholesome way one could muster, -as he had liked you his whole life but to think immorally of you without the sanctity of marriage safeguarding your dignity and consent was a sin he could never even imagine to commit- you curled your lip in disdain and pretended as though you were very happy to be there. The jab of your mother's elbow that had caused you to do so both made Steve snort before he caught himself in time and worry if the older woman had hurt you too badly. 

Heat began to creep up his ears and cheeks and Steve knew it was his cue to look away. He didn't want to, but he had to. You were too dangerous and he was too vulnerable to you. Immoral thoughts always began to cloud and pollute his mind if he stared at you for too long. And that, he could not have. Both for your sake and his own. 

A labored sigh of longing left his pink mouth as he quickly averted his eyes when he caught himself staring at you again. You were picking at your fingers now. He could literally visualize you counting the seconds before you could leave. Steve's stomach did that thing where his affection for you made him want to pull at your cheeks to express the adoration that he felt for you. 

Preferably after he cleaned off some of your… fashionable makeup choices, of course.

. . .

“Dude, you're really serious about the Y/L/N psycho from up the road, aren't you?” Steve frowned at his best friend's back whilst the taller, broader and healthier boy crouched in front of his Harley Davidson.

“Buck,” Steve sighed in frustration. All he had wanted to talk about was how cute you looked with the messy remnants of your lipstick in the most respectful way he could. But Bucky just had to be like this. “I told you not to call her that” his eyes watched his friend's muscles flex under the thin material of his tank top and though the golden haired boy knew that envy was one of the seven deadly sins, he couldn't help but wonder if he would be more noticeable to you if his physique bore more likeness to his friend's. “You know what Father Jameson says…”

The scoff Bucky let out at that ended in a laugh as his long fingers spread over the rim strokes that he was taking his time cleaning with much care. “Yeah, right” Steve sighed again as he leaned against the brick wall behind him, crossing his humble arms over his small chest. “Fix the creepy satanist by turning the other cheek, because that would work out so well” Bucky was not as enthusiastic about religion as his best friend, but he was not on the heresy spectrum either. 

“Dude,” Steve found the town rumour about you being a satanist both outlandish and absolutely ridiculous. “That is a stretch and you know it” but he could not help but mutter afterwards, mostly to himself. “Besides, no one is beyond saving or redemption.” 

. . . 

The little bell at the top of the coffee shop entrance dinged another arrival in but Steve, who was busy taking a rather complex order, didn't look up. He had worked after school part-time long enough at this place to both get used to and grow almost ignorant of the signal during busy hours. 

But when the line moved to the point where a similar scent and shadowy figure appeared at the horizons of his senses, Steve's busy hand froze and his much practiced, nearly mechanical greeting died on his tongue at the rather shocking sight that welcomed him. 

“Y/n~!” You looked up from your phone out of concern for how breathless the cashier sounded. “W- What… what can I… I…” You narrowed your eyes from under the dark brown hood that was pulled over your head, wondering if the blonde boy at the other side of the counter was having some kind of a fit. “I…” It was not that you cared whether the little dude died or whatever, but rather you preferred he did so after taking your order so you could be on your way. 

“Coffee, black” and so you hurriedly uttered out your order in a near panic. The boy seemed like he didn't understand you at first. As if you were speaking a language alien to his very red ears. But then he did a weird double take and nodded quickly before looking down and punching your order in the machine with such force that it appeared as though he was trying to crush the buttons with his skinny little fingers. 

You raised an eyebrow, not out of concern but more at the comical absurdity of this queer little boy that you felt like you had seen somewhere before but could not pinpoint where. You dug inside the pockets of your black skinny jeans and took the money out to pay because you knew the rate and he was malfunctioning way too much for your patience.  

“That’ll be—” you slid the exact amount on the counter before he could finish his sentence. “Oh, thank you…” You rolled your eyes to yourself. It was bad enough that your usual cafe was closed today and now you had to deal with an overly nice, glitching twink. “N- Nice day out… huh?” 

The way your eyes moved from your phone to his face and then down to his nametag caused the thick black false eyelashes you wore over the smoky eyeshadow to move rather dramatically. 

Steve decided he liked it.

“Uh…?” You squinted as you made out his name from under the frilly church badge that he wore in honor of something you couldn't care less about. “... Steve…?

“Yes!?!” Steve's bright blue eyes were wide as he gripped the edge of the counter as if he was on the verge of exploding. “Something you wanted?!”

You leaned in, tilting your phone to the side to look at him properly. “The receipt…” His flashing blush was so deep in shade that it seemed for a second as though the heat would start to steam out of his ears next. 

“R- Right, right!” Steve's voice was embarrassingly loud as he snatched the token-bill out of the machine before holding it out to you with too much force than he intended, not that it was much coming from someone like him. 

You just gave him a weirded out look before accepting the paper by pinching at one of its edges and taking it from him and moving out of the way. You were not sure if Steve noticed it or not, but the people behind you were groaning out of frustration because of his little display that had made you hold the line up for way longer than was needed. You rolled your eyes again, both at him and the people. 

What an inconvenience.

But Steve's mind was way too occupied with something else to notice the unhappy customers. As he tried to go back to his work with no awareness of how the elderly lady in front of him frowned at him, he felt his heart leap up from how you paused and half-turned. He could not decide why you tilted your head the way one did when they were considering something the person next to them was saying. Because there was no such person with you. You slowly further craned your neck to look behind you before your eyes found him again. You narrowed your dark eyes on him as if… perhaps… you could hear someone saying something about him. There was literally no one there but Steve subconsciously focused on you, unsure of what outcome he expected to achieve by doing so. 

But the shrill voice of Mrs. Jackson nearly gave him a heart attack as it brought him out of his little bubble and he blinked to recalibrate before shaking his head at the absurdity of his thoughts and then willing his hands to return to their work. 

. . .

“Ma…” Steve muttered under his breath as he closed his eyes in frustration, sighing into his orange juice. “It was one time” he put emphasis on the quantitative adjective before crossly shooting his best friend a sharp look. 

Bucky was not bothered in the least as he scarfed down Mrs. Rogers' morn cooking with full satisfaction after ratting her son out to him. 

“It's not about that!” She put both his and Bucky's lunches -who was basically her unofficial son and Steve's unproclaimed sibling at this point- with a force not violent or traumatizing on their still young minds but harsh enough to add effect to her words. “It's about you not even mentioning it to me!”

“Mom…” Steve's ears were red. “You're embarrassing me…” He felt like kicking his friend's happy form.

“I am embarrassing you?! Me?!” Bucky chuckled in a manner aimed at further encouraging his mother before shaking his head at his best friend. “You're the one keeping secrets from me!” 

“You tell him, Sarah!” Bucky smirked when Steve glared at him. As if adding fuel to the fire wasn't enough, he was calling the woman by her name. Mrs. Rogers didn't mind because it made her feel young but her son didn't like it when his best friend did it with that cocky playboy expression of his. 

Steve knew Bucky too well. 

And the plethora of information was a rather mortifying one. 

“Dramatic much?” Steve chose to say instead, shaking his head at the both of them.

“Steven!” And he stood up at that, swiping his mini-package from the table as he did so. 

“Ma, it was one time and only because her usual coffee shop was closed. She usually doesn't come by the place at all…” As he stuffed his lunch in his bag before zipping it, he added for good measure, “I promise.” 

“Notice how he knows that?” Bucky swung his bag over his shoulder after doing the same thing and laughing as he ran by Steve to avoid being hit.

“Mom—” the golden haired boy began after glaring at the way his best friend had left but the older woman cut him off.

“Just… be careful and stay away from that girl, okay?” Mrs. Rogers took his soft face in her hands and looked into his eyes. Steve's heart melted from the affectionate gesture right away and all ire transformed into guilt for feeling annoyed simply because his mother was looking out for him. “Because Mrs. Johnson told me the most horrific thing! Her younger daughter goes to school with her and—” Mrs. Rogers treated you like you were one-who-must-not-be-named and whilst it was funny to an extent, it never failed to drag Steve's spirit down. “She told Mrs. Johnson that that devilish girl said the most heretical—”

“I will, mom. Don't worry. Gotta run now, bye” Steve did not like it when anyone spoke ill of you or mistreated you. Even if the person was his own dear mother. “I love you!” The short boy rushed out. 

Only, he was met with a very angry Bucky who was cussing out an anonymous offender because the tires of his motorbike that the brunette had parked in front of Steve's house had been very intentionally slashed while he was inside. Usually, the two friends rode to school together even though it wasn't considered very cool by their peers but they didn't care. The blonde bent to pick up the brunette's backpack that he had angrily hurled on the pavement before beginning to push his vehicle down the road and to the nearest garage without another word. Steve sighed as he jogged back up to his front door since Bucky lived in the opposite direction of school and the golden haired boy was already short on time. So he dropped Bucky's bag on his mother's rocking chair that was adjacent to the door before beginning his hopefully short walk. 

Although Bucky was popular both around the neighborhood and at school, the same could not be said about Steve despite his good grades. So as he made his way down the sidewalk, hands gripping the straps of his backpack with his head down and eyes mindlessly watching how his feet moved, he did not expect to hear his name being called until the class attendance. Consequently, he missed the whistle that prompted his attention. 

When he did not pick up on it and walked on, the person grunted before speaking up. “Hey, you!” He still didn't stop or raise his blonde head, so the husky voice hailed again. “Rogers!” He froze. 

Was he hearing correctly?

No…

This couldn't be…

“What, you deaf too?” Steve's eyes widened and his head whipped to seek you out, too shocked to notice your jab at his physical ailments. The bright blue of his orbs excitedly twinkled in reaction to his rising adrenaline. 

“Y- Y/n…” He breathed out when he found you at last, turning in your direction to look at you properly. 

“So he hears! Praise the Lord!” You sarcastically teased from where you were leaning against the narrow alley wall next to the local grocers. 

Steve flushed, both shocked and mildly offended. He had never seen you speak to or approach anyone before let alone him. Especially after the scene he had made during your last meeting. 

He raked his mind for words but none came to him. All he could do was blink at you with his pretty pink lips agape, cheekbones red. 

“They're playing A Nightmare on Elm Street at the local theater tonight…” You tilted your head to the side with a ‘friendly’ smile, waiting for him to catch on.

Steve vigorously nodded like an eager little puppy, shooting you a big smile like you had just imparted some great universal truth upon him. You raised an eyebrow at him as you tapped your crossed arm with your index finger, feeling your lips break into an amused smirk at how he malfunctioned. 

His eyebrows eventually furrowed when he slowly realized your expression and let his mind replay what you had said. 

“H- Huh?!” Was all he could let out once he did so. “Uh… okay…?”

Of course. You thought to yourself before sighing and rolling your eyes. 

“The cashier didn't have change so he ended up giving me two tickets” you dangled them between your fingers after fishing them out of your jeans, the hood you wore on your head casting a shadow over your dark makeup. “And who would be better company than the nice barista who lives down the street, right?”

Steve's throat felt as though a hundred thorns had coiled around it. “N- Not a… barista…” He did not have to, but he felt the need to do so for the sake of being honest with much difficulty, blushing up a storm. “Just… the cashier…” You snorted as you let your shoulders push you off the wall. “A- And down the road… not s- street…”

You gave him a considering nod. “Tomato, to-mah-to” now you walked closer to him, unknowingly pulling the very air from his lungs as a result. “7pm, sharp. Don't be late.” And you walked off with your characteristic coolness, not looking back and leaving Steve to his disbelief and eventual nervous breakdown due to the shocking turn of events. 

. . .

Everything Tag <3: @rosecentury