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#not confident about this one ah ah tagging anyways
reborrowing · 4 months
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@gtzel made a post about saving a drowning tiny from a pool yesterday and I do love me a good Terrible Situation
It was supposed to be a shortcut, one the borrower took all the time.
A leap out of the tree, skip off the fence down onto wall of the pool, and a quick jog across the cover so they didn’t have to run all the way around the massive structure on their way back to the garden.
They’d already jumped when they noticed the cover was absent. They struggled against their practiced momentum only to slip and slide on a puddle that carried them into the vast sea below.
It was not the pleasant water of the creek. It was not the clean water tapped from a pipe. It was acid, with chlorine that burned their face before they even hit the water. And it was cold, cold enough to set them gasping as soon as they managed to get their head back above the surface where it belonged.
They turned to swim towards an escape, but the walls rose out of reach. They fumbled with their gear but the encroaching panic was making it harder and harder to think straight and they couldn’t…they could barely keep afloat even with their hands free.
A leaf floated by to offer some relief. They threw themself at the paltry raft but even their meager weight was too much for the leaf to support. They fell beneath the surface again, this time taking in a horrible, burning gasp of water. They sputtered and kicked and everything was starting to get dark and disorienting.
They were going to die here. They closed their eyes and a dark shadow fell over them. hey assumed it was death itself and felt something like relief. At least it was over.
“What is—oh my god!”
A human’s voice booming overhead was enough to rouse them, but not enough to keep them awake. Even when they felt a net catch against their shoulder, they couldn’t bring themself to react. It pulled them out of the water and into the open.
Oh. That’s bad. That’s very bad, they thought distantly.
They flickered in and out of consciousness, floating through clouds of black. A heavy warmth enveloped them and pressed against their ribs.
“Jesus, what are you? Are you okay? Can you understand me?” the voice wavered around them.
When they woke back up, they found themself carefully cocooned in a soft cloth. They wriggled themself deeper into the folds for a few blissful seconds until reality set in.
Their lungs felt burnt, as if a fire had passed through them, and their whole chest ached. They had to fight against a thick fatigue just to sit up and see that they were inside the house, on the kitchen counter, mere feet away from one of the humans that lived there.
But it wasn’t watching them.
They forced themself to crawl out of the warm towel to make their escape. Their things had been stacked, perhaps as neatly as the human could manage with their clumsy fingers. A torn bit of bread and an apple slice were waiting there as well, a bounty well beyond what they could eat. Theirs for the taking. They paused.
They looked back at the human, who was staring intently at their phone, face wrinkled with worry. Worried about what? Not the borrower, surely. Though the human had just saved their life…They sat back down on the plush towel, to the relief of their aching body.
“Hey,” they called out. “Th-thank you.”
The human’s eyes lit up and the worry melted from their face. The borrower’s heart jumped as the titan leaned in close, but they only wanted to be sure that the borrower was alright. And against all reason, they were.
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giantkillerjack · 1 year
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Ya know. I spent most of my life with horrible painful soul-crushing social anxiety.
And after about 25 years of continuous hard work, suddenly, people started pointing out - to my utter bafflement - that I had, in fact, achieved my lifelong dream of being charismatic. I'm 29 now; I feel comfortable in most social situations, and it is a very rare person whom I cannot make laugh.
I am, undoubtedly, finally, charismatic.
But do you know what I found?
I found that now that I have an understanding of which social rules serve which functions -- Now that I have an understanding of just how much damage my awkwardness was doing to people, well,
I found that, actually, my awkwardness never really hurt anyone at all. People were just judgmental dicks to me about it.
Now that I have the skill-level to (most of the time) creatively vocalize what is in my head as soon as I think it and without fear, I can confirm once and for all what I had always suspected:
I was worth talking to when I was quiet.
I was worth talking to when I was awkward, and when the words in my head took time and patience to hear, and when most of my jokes didn't land. I was worth talking to the whole time.
So I just... I hope that if you've ever wondered whether you are worth communicating with, the answer is yes. Absolutely yes. Each of us has a soul worth sharing - and if you and I were talking, I would happily wait for you to speak (or communicate in other ways) without condescending, and I would never shame you for that harmless awkwardness that so many people feel the need to violently stomp out.
You are worth talking to. You just are. And you deserve people who will speak to you with kindness, with patience, and with the basic immutable respect owed to all people.
(I talk about this with some frequency, both on tumblr and in real life. At some point, maybe I'll gather all my thoughts on the matter into one post. At some point, I wrote about my personal experience trying to build my social skill. But I felt the need to say at least a little bit tonight after seeing this other lovely post, and I'm glad I did. It will happen again.)
#original#social anxiety#autism#that one post#actually autistic#self-diagnosis is valid - in case that last tag implies otherwise to anyone. i think it just denotes i am an autistic and not just an ally.#social skills#socially awkward#socially anxious#autistic positivity#autism positivity#like actually genuinely who does it hurt if i tell a joke that doesn't land? esp if the joke is not about another person#this is not a live comedy show this is life ya gotta learn to say 'ah well they can't all be golden!'#which btw is a line i use when my own jokes don't land and it usually plays pretty well actually. i've got a higher hit rate but#genuinely they just can't all be good! anyway i go into that in the post linked at the end there i think#people can tell when you're not sure of yourself socially and a lot of folks instinctively use that against you. and i am here to say that#it's fucked up that they are doing that and they need to step off actually. imagine getting to decide on which social cues are#acceptable and then using that power to be unkind. fuckin gross. i regret so deeply each time in my life i have made that choice.#being a kid who is abused like that so often it was eager to power trip when i met kids more awkward than myself. but it was wrong#and i regret it. and i am proud to say i haven't done that in a long time and instead when i find myself with that power i try to say#actually what do YOU want? to the people shyer than me.#i'm pretty rad now is what i'm saying lol#like all the ways that having a good social stat has improved my life just made me realize what bullshit it is that this was necessary#doing what I did is not desirable or possible for everyone. they deserve just as much out of life as i do.#side note: i think I've actually surpassed a lot of neurotypicals who had never even had to think about social rules 🤣.#like I feel no competition with other people who have struggled socially but now that I'm more charming than people who were dicks to me#I do feel like fuck you!! I win!!!! I can finally see enough of the full picture to say that your arbitrary rules were FUCKING ARBITRARY#I'm also aware of the fact that not everyone finds me charismatic but i am. in all the ways that matter to me. and I'm still growing!#note to future jack: you did save these posts in your notes app on the day this was written.#tbh i am often still awkward i am just not sorry anymore if i'm not hurting ppl. 'confident and awkward' really throws 'em for a loop! XD
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sailortongue · 3 months
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Lima Bean
pairing: kenji sato x reader
summary: kenji makes his intentions clear and a certain reporter is a little too committed to his job
an: ik the title is kinda dumb but bear with me i have an idea (title is still subject to change if the idea falls through). also tags are being kind of silly and I don't know how to get them to act right so if you asked to be tagged but didn't get notified I swear I tried 😭
wc: 2k
navi | prev | series mlist
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“I’m pregnant.”
Those two words changed Kenji’s entire demeanor in seconds. His face dropped and his jaw hung open in complete disbelief. “. . . Are you sure?” He asked. 
“Positive test, missed period, morning sickness,” you listed off. “I’m going to make an OBGYN appointment anyway just to be 100% sure, but so far yeah I’m pretty sure.”
“Ah,” was all he could say in response, his mind both blank and racing at the same time. Had he really not used protection? Was he that drunk? He tried to think back to that night, but all he could seem to remember was a flash of you under him and his lips on your neck. His face immediately flushed scarlet. 
“Are you angry?” You asked, noticing the rapid shift in his complexion. 
He rushed to deny your assumption. “No! No, nothing like that. I'm just . . . not sure what to make of this.”
“I know how you feel,” you said wryly. “Just thought you should know, I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling almost hollow inside with the knowledge that your life was about to undergo a drastic change.
“I appreciate it, thank you. If you don’t mind, uh,” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “I'd like to be present. To be a father.” He thought back to when he took care of Emi and how much he came to love her. He was confident in his ability to take care of his own biological child, even if these weren’t the circumstances in which he imagined he’d have one. 
You looked at him as if you were meeting him for the very first time, entirely taken aback by his willingness to step up. Truthfully you'd expected him to deny any responsibility, but there he was, asking to raise the baby alongside you—to step up to the metaphorical plate and be a dad. “Really? And you’re not going to leave at the first inconvenience?”
“No. You have my word on that.” His expression was one of utmost sincerity. “I want to be a dad. Granted, this isn’t how I expected it,” he laughed awkwardly, “but it’s how it happened, and I won't run away from it.”
You gave him a soft smile. “I'll be honest, I didn't expect you to be so noble.”
“Thought I’d tell you to get rid of it or just throw a check at you to never contact me again? I understand the concern, but I want to be there every step of the way.”
“Then, would you like to come with me for my appointment? I haven’t scheduled it yet but . . .” you trailed off, realizing you were asking a very busy man to take time out of his day to accompany you to a doctor's appointment. “Unless of course you’re busy or don’t want to,” you added quickly.
He laughed at how flustered you’d gotten. “I'll be there. No matter the weather, practice, or a game, I will be there. That’s my kid you’ve got in there after all,” he said with a broad grin on his face as he pointed to your abdomen. “And that takes priority over everything else.”
“Wow. You’re smitten with something that’s probably the size of a lima bean right now,” you teased.
“Woah now, that’s our lima bean and I’m going to be the best dad a bean could wish for,” he asserted, imagining teaching his future son or daughter to play baseball with him or helping with homework, even what it would be like to do his daughter’s hair, or perhaps teaching his son how to tie a tie.
He was snapped from his thoughts when you slid your phone towards him from across the table, the screen displaying a new contact. “If we're going to be coparenting we should have each other's numbers.”
He picked up the device to input his number and then checked his own phone. He showed you the screen, a message from your own number displayed there. 
It was only when he handed your phone back to you that you noticed how late it had already become. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize the time. I didn't mean to keep you so late,” you apologized. 
“No no, it’s fine. I'm glad you, or, Ami, I guess, insisted we have this conversation in person. Think if I had been told over text I’d still be sitting on the couch reading it over and over again,” he laughed. 
“That was how I felt looking at the test. It didn’t feel real.” You had a smile that mirrored his own, and you couldn’t believe how fortunate you were that Kenji wasn’t the douche you expected he’d be when he found out. Quite the opposite, to your pleasant surprise.
“Do you need a ride back home?” He asked earnestly, not quite ready to say bye. After all, you hadn’t  allowed him the chance the last time you had met. 
You shook your head as you stood from the table. “No, I drove here, but thanks anyway. I guess I'll keep in touch?”
He hummed in affirmation, standing from his chair, his impressive height towering over you. He gestured for you to walk first, following close behind you, his hand lightly pressed to your lower back as he walked with you to your car. While the two of you were wishing each other good night, another patron of the cafe was typing furiously into his phone, notifying his boss that he had just overheard the sport's world's juiciest scandal in months.
-❀-
The first thing you did the following day was schedule an appointment with an obstetrician. There had been a recent cancellation so you were able to get a slot in just a few days. You sent Kenji a text to notify him when and where, a small part of you looking forward to seeing him again. He responded quickly, saying he would definitely be there. 
When the day came, he called you to ask if you wanted to go together, rather than take two cars. You agreed and told him your address, choosing to wait for him inside due to the biting cold of December. When you heard a car pull up, you exited your home, and it took all of your willpower not to gawk at his car, which was probably worth more than your entire house. You saw the driver's door begin to open, and he stepped out, breathtakingly handsome as usual. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and waved, greeting you with a jovial “Morning!”
“Good morning, Kenji,” you returned, a smile gracing your features. 
As you approached the car, he slid back into the driver's seat and looked over at you, taking in the sight of the mother of his future child. He'd lain awake all night, playing with the idea over and over in his mind. He was really going to be a dad. How different could it be to raise a human baby if he’d already done so with a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby?
You noticed his gaze in your peripheral vision, but as you turned to look at him he snapped his attention forward and made himself busy with inputting the name of the doctor’s office you’d given him into the GPS. 
The ride was filled with pleasant small talk, asking each other how you had been since last time, basically avoiding the elephant in the room and talking about everything except the new life between you. After parking, he made sure to open the door to the office for you and entered after you, a rush of cold air enveloping you as you approached the front desk. You confirmed your appointment with the receptionist, and she directed the two of you to sit in the waiting room and told you your name would be called when the doctor was ready. 
As you were waiting, you noticed Kenji’s leg bouncing up and down rapidly, showing his nerves despite it not even being his appointment. You took the opportunity that had presented itself and placed your hand atop his knee. He looked over at you, his brown eyes wide and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You can wait in the car if you’d prefer—“
“No!” He all but shouted, refusing to let you believe for even one second that he would run out. “I said I would be here for you and I will,” he said adamantly, placing his hand over yours where it was still on his knee and squeezing tightly, a physical reassurance that we was staying put. 
“y/n l/n.” You heard your name called.  You and Kenji stood together, his hand not releasing yours. Instead, he rubbed calming circles on the skin as you were escorted into the patient rooms, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was meant to ease his nerves or yours. Either way, it was a sweet gesture.
-❀-
The gel was cold as it was spread across your exposed skin, sending shivers up your spine. A grainy black and white image showed up on the screen, and the doctor pointed to a small grey object depicted on it, surrounded by a sea of black. “This,” she started, “is the fetus.” You looked at the screen in awe before glancing over at Kenji. He was seated in a chair against the wall, his elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward, his attention rapt on the screen and his lips open in a small “o” shape. 
The doctor chuckled at your amazed reactions. “Excited to be parents?” She asked.
You don’t think Kenji even heard her, so you answered. “To be totally honest, this was unexpected, but I think we can make it work. Kenji here made it very clear that he wants to be a dad.”
“That's wonderful to hear. Well, looking at the scan I'd say you’re about 7 weeks along and you can expect to welcome the baby around August 11. 
Kenji was practically bubbling as you each took your seats in the car, and he kept stealing glances at your tummy even if you weren’t showing any visible change yet. 
-❀-
These past few days of tailing the nation's sweetheart baseball player were so worth it, thought the man sitting in his car while browsing through the photos of Kenji Sato and a woman he’d never been seen with before entering and leaving an OBGYN facility together. Interesting. Very interesting. With those photos there was no denying that Kenji Sato, baseball heartthrob, was a soon-to-be father.
-❀-
Kenji put the car in park in your driveway. You made to get out of the car until he exclaimed “Wait!” You re-situated yourself on the seat, angling yourself towards him. He seemed almost at war with himself, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually say what had prompted him to stop you from leaving. “Would you, uh,” he faltered, chuckling awkwardly. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” He gave you a hopeful look. 
Heat flushed across your face and ears, and you beamed at him. “Doing things way out of order aren’t we?” You joked. 
He laughed mirthfully as well. “Way out of order,” he agreed. “So, was that a yes? To go out?”
“Yes, that was a yes,” you giggled, finding his eagerness endearingly sweet.
He nodded his head. “Ok. Ok, great. Are you free this Saturday? I'll pick you up?”
“I’ll see you then,” you agreed cheerfully, and, deciding to take another risk since you were doing things all out of order anyway, you leaned over and placed a quick peck against his cheek before hopping out of the car and waving goodbye. He continued to wait in the car until he saw you safely enter your home, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and his face crimson red, one hand placed lightly against where your lips had touched his skin. 
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next
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taglist: @mochminnie @lovingyeet @sassy-cat-in-town @hanachiiii @aise-30 @reivelmin @fcheung750 @breaddippedinorangejuice @lunaryasha @imsimping4life @boomboom-tanjiro2019 @f1uveryysblog @random-3455 @b3e-sat0 @retaaaa56 @casualburning
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romaritimeharbor · 6 months
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FAMILY, OF SORTS. — in which kafka, blade, and silver wolf are an odd but quite special found family to be a part of.
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— trigger & content warnings. mentions of unspecified injury.
— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. kafka & teen!reader, blade & teen!reader, silver wolf & teen!reader. 1.3k words. reader is a stellaron hunter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used).
— author's notes. the sillies <3 APHE POSTING???? APHELION POSTING REAL AND TRUE????????? i had a request for this on my old blog (from my dear beloved moot @starryshinyskies <3) so i decided to finish it 💪 nd tagging @www-brontide since i know you were excited for this post HEHE anyways how are we feeling about this formatting? if you guys don't like it i'm very open to changing it back. i'm just experimenting with my post format is all 🫶
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kafka seems strangely motherly to me. caring and doting in her own unique ways, but also quite strange and odd in those same ways. an enigma of sorts.
she is the kind of person to always send the stellaron hunters' youngest member texts throughout the day; these texts range anywhere from silly and inconsequential to sweet messages letting [name] know that she was thinking about them.
(her doting nature is not dissimilar to how she thinks of and regards the trailblazer... hm.)
KAFKA
My coat got stained again :(
Won't you help me clean it when you get home, little one?
[ 1:22 PM ]
KAFKA
I saw a new movie today.
It made me think of you. It was quite to your tastes.
Perhaps we should go see it together sometime, hm?
Ah, but you're probably asleep by now...
That's fine. You do need it more than the rest of us.
Sleep well, darling.
[ 11:34 PM ]
she thinks of her little one quite frequently and has been known to pick up little trinkets from different planets that reminded her of them. a phone charm, a set of rings, something more practical like a new weapon... she once returned with a nice coat that matches one of hers. her gifts are always unpredictable but nonetheless very thoughtful.
and when or if they get injured, she is the one who treats their wound(s) with a tender hand.
she does chide them, however.
"you are a stellaron hunter, little one," she reminds, pulling the bandages wrapped around their wound a little tighter, making them wince. it is akin to a slap on the wrist—not enough pain to seriously harm them, but enough to force them to take her words to heart. "if it is not a part of the plan, try your best not to get caught or injured, hm? silver wolf doesn't like to see you this way, and it causes a unique stir in bladie. your getting injured causes quite the unrest among us all! do be more careful next time."
if there is ever a night during which they are struggling to sleep, they are more than welcome to seek out kafka's company.
she would be willing to read them to sleep, if that is what they desired.
however... a far easier method that would ensure they would stay asleep? her spirit whisper ability, of course.
they know kafka would not use it to harm them.
kafka finds their earnest trust beyond endearing. the trust of a little one like them is quite an important gift! the least she can do, she thinks, is assist them when her assistance is needed.
and sometimes, that just means lulling them to sleep.
blade is quite a difficult person to read, regardless of whether he intends to be so or not.
some days, he is distant and prefers to keep to himself. others, less so.
this, though, should not be mistaken for a lack of care. in fact, he cares quite deeply. his care is simply very quiet and he desperately, earnestly, truly does not wish to cause [name] harm.
he is also most likely the one who spars with them and trains them in the ways of combat, which... he isn't exactly the gentlest at doing. training sessions can be quite frustrating in that they often emerge sore and with new cuts and bruises (but really, these injuries are small and insignificant; they are confident in saying that blade would never truly hurt them, nobody in their family would). he does mean well in his tough methods, though.
the universe is not kind or gentle. it will never treat them that way. therefore, he does his best to prepare them so that they can effectively handle the universe's cruelty and defend themselves from it.
one of the ways in which his quiet care manifests is through his treatment of the small wounds he gives them during training. kafka has said many times that she can treat them, but blade always insists on doing it himself.
out of all of their coworkers, blade becomes the most restless when they're away. he gets particularly antsy when they've been gone for a long period or when they're out there alone. kafka always giggles and points out to him how utterly restless he becomes when such circumstances occur.
(he should be assured that they can handle themselves, given that he is their mentor—there is surely nobody else who would know their skills as well as he would—but somehow he simply isn't.)
blade is also, generally speaking, the most protective.
should they come back injured... if it is anything other than a shallow scratch on the cheek, a rage hotter than the brightest star burns under his skin. in those moments, he almost does not dare to touch them, for fear that he might harm them unwittingly... but he does. his hands are somewhat rough when he snatches their face and tilts their chin around to get a better look at the blood (is it theirs? he hopes not) and grime dirtying their face. there is a terrifying threat present in his voice when he demands, not asks, "who did this to you?"
(if kafka was not present in these moments, he might worry that his mara would get the best of him. thankfully, kafka is intentional and present in such situations.)
unless the ones responsible for the wound have already been adequately... taken care of, he will do so himself. there is nowhere in the universe that the perpetrators could hide from him.
it's about protecting them, but it is also about sending a message.
something along the lines of "anyone who lays hands on them will suffer a fate worse than death," perhaps.
death is anything but a terrible fate to blade, but he knows that it is the worst imaginable to some. he will be certain to deliver something infinitely worse, something beyond imagination, to those daring to hurt his younger teammate.
silver wolf is perhaps the least enigmatic of their little family. she isn't an open book, per se, but she's easier to read than kafka or blade... at least, for someone like [name], anyway.
she never fails to harrass them to play a few rounds (which tends to spiral into many, many rounds...) of a game or two with her. why them, specifically? she insists that blade isn't good at them and kafka is kafka. really, it may very well just be that she enjoys spending time with them, but she—of course—will not simply say that.
however... she bullies them terribly about how bad they are. it comes from a place of affection!
she is also the type to win them every single prize at carnivals, just because she likes the joy it seems to bring them. when she encounters rigged games, however, she becomes all the more motivated by her unadulterated annoyance to beat them.
what do you mean she of all people can't beat this awful and horrible rigged game? her???? the silver wolf????? seriously????????
unfortunately, it does not always end in her victory, even when she is infinitely motivated by her anger.
...and she really isn't above just taking one of the prizes when the stall's owner isn't looking. she has done so multiple times for [name].
she would definitely try to teach them hacking (keyword: try) if they aren't already familiar with it. since it has come in handy for her, she figures that they might also find use in it. it's her quiet way of looking out for them.
(her more obvious way of looking out for them is often seen when she is on missions with them. most commonly, it manifests as her snatching their arm and pulling them out of the way of an enemy before obliterating said threat.)
silver wolf is totally the sort of person to pinch their cheeks (to different degrees, kafka and blade also do this!). they are very cute to her.
overall they are a weird but very special little family to be a part of <3
please consider supporting your writers by reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment. it really helps me out!
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socksandbuttons · 2 months
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DCA/TSAMS ARTFIGHT ATTACKS
All my tagging is gonna be underneath cause i have COMMENTS
First the mass Lunar Attack, listen this took a WHILE and my last attack took so long... had a lot of fun with posing and putting the chaarcter where i think they made sense in interacting. lots of fluff and tails! and there woulve been more if i had more time. left to right here also u can tell what the theme was
Umbra - @ocean-lunar ive drawn them before i think but theyre so funky sillyyy
Follower Lunar- @/ms.dawn on artfight, i was trying to decipher what the au was and then looked at the other characters and went AH. he chillin' safety on the cloud!!!
Evil (purple) Lunar - @galaxysugarr I APPRECIATE THE LIMITED PALETTE SO MUCH. i love his pose still gets some cloud sir.
Lunara - @starheirxero LISTEN I SAW THE DESIGN AND I LIKE TO GATHER THE LUNARS. loving the rags dvbkjd
Callisto (Lord Lunar) - @artyheartz I DEBATED ON EITHER UR EVIL BOY OR UR GOD originally hen i saw him wanted to draw him with his eclipse but dfkd anyway he prettyyyyyy <33
Lord Night - @madcatdaderpydrawer-blog ALSO remembering drawing him in my lunar files dhvs one of the aus ive seen since before the dawn of the new age. Look at him goooo i like the sublte stars in his cloak so coolll
Killcode Corrupted Lunar - @artoutoftheblue HI THE CONCEPT INTRIGUES ME LOOK AT HIMMMM fdbvkj twas on me list the moment i saw him!
God!Lunar @starays13 UR BOY IS THE ONE I SAW AND INFLUENCED WHY EVERYONES ON CLOUDS ad why i chose a whole mass attack (i saw cloud kingdom say no more, he vibing!!!)
And the last one is my Lord Lunar. bdjkfss dont worry about him. I had fun trying to finish this. i can also send yall the individuals of ur characters if u want!
And now continuing
Sunsettia and Gala @cinnamonnala BRUH U KNOWWWW U KNOWWWW, i enjoyed drawing sunsettia a lil too much but lord the patterns fvdjvs gala moments before next nap!!
Protocol @catspawcreates WE SHAKING HANDS ON KILLCODES ON ARTFIGHT!!! A fun guy to draw once u get going!! and i like the palette could do lineless with that!! stretchy magnetics boyo smooch Lord Bloodmoon @o-i-w-u HEY YOO COOL BEANS i liked drawing this one the style of lines being light remind me of that rythm ribbon game vribbon??? Either way cool design for a lord Bloodmoon!!
Tycho, (beaned) Bloodmoon, Meteor @garbagechocolate THE BACKGROUND... i scrapped my first draft thats a recreation. BUT UR BOYOS. Tycho is such a delightful guy and METEOR i dont see them enough but <33 darling. and classic bloodmoon even tho he small rn dont worry about that. Causes problems later. Starlight @/Solar_Eclipse on artfight - I SAW THE TEAL I SAW THE SASS I SAW THE GOLD. i was hi i love them. SHINE BRIGHT SUPERSTAR!!
Luna, Ballet Lunar - @nekojaf @senota-skulls BALLET LUNARS IN MY HOUSE??? I SAW THE PRINCESS TUTU OPPORTUNITY AND THEN TOOK IT it was fun drawing!!! love them mwah <33
Polaris, Eclipse @huskyliker - I SAW POLARIS ON INSTAGRAM BEFORE AND SEEING U ON ARTIFIGTH I HAD TO. and i leanred more, shes so sillyyyy <333 girl wins
Honey @/ClipseTheBean on artfight - ONE OF MY TRADITIONAL ATTACKS. Getting the values of my greys right was a task BUT BBY DBKCSJ THEY WERE SO CUTEEEE Enzo @/JitteryBuggie on artfight - More grey tones with that POP of puprle i loved drawing her and then dreaded lining gbvsks
Angel, Angel, and Angel Lunar! - Myboyo, @melodyartiez @simpalert THE MOMENT I WAS SCROLLING AND SEEING THIS I KNEW RIGHT AWAY. Angels everywhere o m g <33 theyre so cute tho i like that Angel was christmas vibed and Angel Lunar LIL DRESS/TUNIC?? fbdkcs perfecttt
ANYWAY THATS IT FOR THE DCA ONES see this is why all my commentary is under the readmore fbvhjs
i enjoyed a lot of the process with all these. and more confidence in simple background
Hope yall enjoyed artfight!! i did for my first year!
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islandofsages · 9 months
Note
Hey, I wanted to ask for the housewardens with a male!reader from their dorm that have the same name as the Seven's sidekicks (?).
Example : Cerberus for Idia, Diaval for Malleus, FlotSam for Azul, ect...
And people (*cough* Yuu *cough*) always compared the reader with the housewarden and always say things like : "oh yeah, the new Diaval and the new Maleficent.." *looking at Reader and Malleus talking about Briar Valley.*
characters: the housewardens x male reader
tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines + scenario format; yuu is there, mentions of ruggie and jack in leona's, mentions of the leech twins in azul's, mentions of jamil in kalim's, mentions of ortho in idia's, mentions of sebek in malleus'
warnings: nothing
author's notes: i tried to choose characters that aren't already inspirations for the characters in the game so some of them end up being from the second movie and stuff LOL sorry if this isnt what you want anon but honestly i did have a lot of fun writing this
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Riddle Rosehearts — The King of Hearts
You’re not sure why and how but you’re dubbed as The King of Hearts of your dorm, alongside Riddle who is the Queen
Unsure of what to make of this, you ignore it and continue to devote yourself to the Queen just as any normal person would sorry this is kinda satire
Riddle is simply your friend. You cherish him a lot and you respect him and his beliefs. Even when he overblotted, your faith in him is unwavering
Speaking of the overblot, after the whole catastrophe, you’ve grown a lot closer with the other card soldiers, along with the magicless kid named Yuu and their pet (Grim was his name?)
They would greet you from time to time, stop by to have a chat when they’re free and check up on the dorm
One day, they made an offhand comment about you and Riddle
“You guys are paving the way for the new generation of the Queen of Hearts and the King of Hearts. Though, I guess the King of Hearts didn’t really do anything anyway.”
First of all, what the hell are you talking about?
Second of all, you’d say you contribute much to the dorm. For Yuu to assume such a thing for you simply because some “past King of Hearts” didn’t do so is ridiculous
You don’t voice these things out loud and shrug it off as them saying random things again, or making some kind of reference you don’t get
And because, third of all, you realize they broke rule 228: they definitely picked a rose in your garden. So you go to kick them out before Riddle could find out.
All in the day’s work for the King of Hearts.
Leona Kingscholar — Zira
You could say you and Leona are tight - maybe not Ruggie and Leona tight, but almost
And part of that can be attributed to the fact that you may or may not idolize Leona. But hey, it’s not strange. If Jack can do it, why can’t you? At least it’s not on Sebek’s level
Plus, you deserve to have some pride in yourself for being one of the only people Leona confidently calls a friend of his
Though, one person has been persistent about being Leona’s friend - Yuu, the person who just spawned out of nowhere apparently
You’d catch them talking to Leona sometimes and to be frank, there are times where Leona is less annoyed than usual at their presence
One day in particular, the three of you are hanging around Savanaclaw’s lounge, when Yuu drops a bombshell
“Ah yes, of course, you two are exactly like Scar and his creepily-devout follower, Zira.”
??? Yes, Zira is (a variation) of your name but you wouldn’t call yourself “creepily-devout”. Also, who even is Scar?
Leona’s ears twitch in annoyance, either because he doesn’t understand what Yuu means or that he’s put off by their phrasing
You sit in silence, deciding if this is a topic worth asking more about or not
Curiosity gets the best of you - you ask them. They basically dump all the information they could onto you
Yeah, you still don’t get it. But whoever this other Zira is, they’re kinda cool honestly.
Azul Ashengrotto — Morgan(a)
A lot of people consider you one of Azul’s henchmen alongside Jade and Floyd - God forbid working to the bone every day for the Mostro Lounge, right?
But you don’t take it as an insult. It’s no compliment to be so loyal to such a capitalistic bastard (said affectionately) but it’s just another part of your life
Plus. You’re friends with the dude. His cunning nature is what you’re here for
Maybe sometimes you feel a little inferior to him since everyone lauds him as some powerful mage but you tell yourself you don’t need such prestige
Though even outside of work, sometimes you see that Yuu person loiter around the Mostro Lounge in search of Azul (and the Leech siblings occasionally)
So you decide to sit down with them one day and have a nice little chat when-
“So you’re the Morgana dude right? You definitely give off the vibes. Let me guess: you have a love-hate relationship with your stronger, superior boss?”
You have to do a double take at what they just spouted - where are these assumptions coming from suddenly?
Also your name is Morgan.
They laugh and assure you it’s only a joke and a reference to a movie they like since Azul and you have an uncanny resemblance to the characters in that movie
Even still, you can’t help but feel confused… no way they just go up to people and reference things they enjoy right…?
You try to work on your vibes starting the very next day.
Kalim Al-Asim — Aladdin
You’re somewhat of an enabler for Kalim’s party animal and reckless tendencies which Jamil doesn’t really appreciate but also you don’t give a shit
Who can say no to free food and music? Well, a specific amount of people but you’re definitely not one of them
Kalim is friends with everyone; or rather, he considers everyone a friend and that considerately counts you too
But you two really are though - after the party’s died down, the two of you would chat late into the night about everything and anything. And it works because he’s such a good listener
At one of his many parties, the Yuu person who’s apparently from another world comes to party along with you
And so you eat and dance as one usually would under Kalim’s rule, learning bits of information about Yuu along the way
As per usual, the party dies down so you, Kalim and Yuu take the chance to relax and have a concrete conversation
At some point, Yuu comments on your name (and apparent namesake…?)
“Wait, so your name is Aladdin? Like the thief guy who fell in love with the Sultan’s daughter? Feels kinda weird since Kalim kinda reminds me of the Sultan himself…”
Well, yes, your name is Aladdin although you just tell people to call you Ali but everything else they just said is completely false
You all laugh it off because the mood is appropriate for an elaborate joke as such but the next day, when you think over the whole interaction, you have to wonder what was going on through their head at the time
You make a mental note to see if you’ll ever fall in love with a sultan’s daughter.
Vil Schoenheit — Raven
You’re a little intimidated by Vil but you have as much respect for him as anyone does
And somehow, you manage to gain his respect too, though you are a mere spudling…
You try not to let it get to your head (especially considering he has more respect for some other spuds than you) but it’s no easy feat to get a compliment from Vil Schoenheit himself
One person in particular has been getting a lot of attention from Vil lately, you’ve noticed
This Yuu person has been stopping by Pomefiore a lot lately, ever since the weird invasion at school where a bunch of robot people broke into the school grounds
You don’t question it because they’ve been interacting with Vil since the VDC but the thing is Yuu has been trying to get to know more of the dorm members
And one day, they get to you finally
They seem normal enough once you two sit down to chat in the lounge—
“Hm, so your name is Raven? I think I vaguely remember a raven being in Snow White…”
You have no idea what that means and before you could change the topic yourself, Yuu dismisses it; but then the next day, when you were thinking about the exchange again, you get curious as to what a Snow White is 
So you start to scour the Internet for this “Snow White” and it manages to consume you for a few days until Yuu tells you that it’s just a movie from their world
You don’t talk to them for a few days.
Idia Shroud — Meg
You and the Shroud brothers are more like frenemies than anything - you three banter like old friends who know too much about each other
Other than Ortho, Idia does ask you for some favors a lot and you like joking that he’s drowning in debt when it comes to you
Sometimes he pays back by gaming with you, sometimes he pays with actual money. Good money at that. You don’t complain either way
One day you run another favor for him (which he promises more good money for) to send some stuff to Ramshackle
A person named Yuu and their only other dorm member Grim had sent stuff to Idia for repairing and maintenance - not that you care about the details. You’re just gonna get it over with
Once you reach their dorm, the first thing you’re met with are the two dorm members bickering over something. You chuckle; it reminds you of your conversations with Idia
You excuse yourself for interrupting and go to drop off their things on the table in the middle of the lounge
They stop bickering then and Yuu greets you momentarily before muttering something under their breath
“Of course the new Meg to the new Hades dropped off our stuff.”
You assume they don’t know that you heard what they said and quite frankly you don’t want to care much but you admit you’re a bit curious of what they mean
When you get back to Idia, you ask him to decipher that cryptic message
He admits he has no idea what they mean by that, simply tells you not to think about it and pays you with some good old cash - and some fun gaming time so you forget all about it later anyway.
Malleus Draconia — Diaval
You are one of Malleus’ loyal retainers - you were bestowed the honor of being his “wings” even whatever that means
But Malleus sees you as an equal almost. You are no servant and you have your own wings to tend to; it’s the stuff that would move Sebek to tears
You do see him as a friend mostly, even if at first you started doing so out of pity
But now you see him making more friends around campus and you can’t help but feel happy for and proud of him
There’s one friend who he seems to be around a lot - the magicless human named Yuu
It makes sense since he does enjoy taking walks around their dorm, even before they came to occupy it
One day, you three make the time to have tea together and simply talk. It’s all very pleasant when Yuu says-
“You know, don’t you think it’s weird how your name is Diaval and you’re serving someone who’s strangely reminiscent of Maleficent?”
Well, you don’t think it’s weird because you have no idea what they’re referencing and who Maleficent is - and Malleus seems to think the same, with the confused look on his face and all
Also as true as it is that you’re Malleus’ retainer, you don’t appreciate someone phrasing it as you “serving” him
Yuu apologizes for the comment and explains what they mean by it. You both still don’t get it but it’s enough to make you shrug it off
Sometimes Yuu would still make such comments, thinking you don’t hear it but knowing it’s not that deep, it doesn’t affect the three of you’s friendship whatsoever.
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thesunisatangerine · 11 months
Text
against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four
alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader
warnings: explicit sexual content
(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]
word count: 4.3k
It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 
Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.
It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.
These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.
You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?
———
A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 
Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 
“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”
“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 
Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”
You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.
“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.
Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”
You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 
“What?”
“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”
“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”
You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”
You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”
Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?
“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”
“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”
“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.
“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 
When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.
“You’re not going to eat?”
Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”
“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.
She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 
You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 
Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.
“Work?”
“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.
She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”
You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.
“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.
“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”
A pause.
“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 
There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 
Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”
A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 
By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.
And she did.
Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.
———
“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.
You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 
She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 
You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.
When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.
“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”
“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”
You hummed, “do you need it?”
“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.
As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.
“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.
“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”
She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”
———
Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 
She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.
You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.
The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 
Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 
As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 
Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 
The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.
———
Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.
“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.
“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.
Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”
“This.” 
A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.
“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 
“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 
You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.
“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”
“You’re welcome.”
That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.
“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”
Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.
“And what else?”
At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.
You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”
———
Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.
She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 
That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.
“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 
Then it was your turn to gasp. 
Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 
She knew just how to make a mess of you.
“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”
“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.
It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.
You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.
“You came.”
It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.
And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.
“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”
She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 
She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.
“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.
The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.
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rodolfoparras · 1 year
Note
What about the first time with Eddie? 👉👈
I imagine he’s a bit hesitant at first, but once you get into it he’s a lot more vocal and enthusiastic, even tries riding you
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Nothing Compares
Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Top Male reader
Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, anal fingering, riding, rimming, porn with feelings
A/n: pls excuse any mistake and ooc moments, I redid a huge part of it earlier today and I have been kind of working on this for days so I’ve become blind to the smaller details rip anyway than u sm for your request and I hope you enjoy it! (Also look at that banner I’m so proud)
“You know,” you begin, voice ever so gentle as you caress his bare skin “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I’m perfectly fine with just kissing or watching movies or whatever you’d want to do instead”
“I want to,” he says, tone firm and eyes full of confidence. “You’ve done so much for me, for my son, for us, I trust you,” he says before gently cupping your face and kissing your lips.
He only pulls back far enough to rest his forehead onto yours, noses brushing together as he once again repeats his words “I trust you,”
You look at him, eyes filled with tears before you blink them back and kiss him firmly on the lips
“I love you so much” you say in between kisses, feeling a flood of emotion bubbling up in your gut when you hear him giggle.
“I love you too” There’s a soft smile on his face as he meets your gaze, eyes swirling with emotion that you’re sure can be found in your own irises.
He says one last thing before he allows you to strip the clothes off the two of you.
“Just….you know.. go easy on me” he says, teeth nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.
“Always”
Eddie’s sprawled out on your bed, legs spread apart and knees tucked into his chest.
From where you lay you can see his dark locks splayed out onto his pillow case.
As you drag your gaze along his throat, you see the way his St. Christopher necklace spills onto his collarbones and the way it glimmers from where the light hits it.
You continue to trail your gaze down the valley of his peck and onto his abdomen where his hard cock lays.
Eventually your eyes land upon puckered hole, and you can’t help the thought that occurs.
Beautiful, so beautiful, you think to yourself before you swipe your tongue along the cleft of Eddie’s ass, eyes peering up at him to see the way his head lolls back, and he lets out a gasp. “Oh- oh God”
“You alright?” You say, voice sounding breathy and strained.
“Yes,yes I’m good, just- just keep going” he says voice sounding just as breathy and strained.
You deliver another broad stroke with your wet tongue before slowly circling his puckered hole, feeling his heels dig into your back as he claws at the mattress.
“Ah fuck!” He cries out, and lifts his head to meet your gaze. “Don’t- don’t tease please “
You only hum in response, before slowly working your tongue into the tight ring of muscles.
“God oh god! ” Eddie cries out, head trashing side to side, as his heels dig further down into your back.
Drool’s dribbling down the cleft of his ass, eager finger leaving marks on his skin and his musky scent engulfs your senses as you continue to lick into him.
Slowly but surely the tight channel becomes ever so unresisting under your tongue , and with each swipe, Eddie seems closer to losing his mind
“More, more more please i need more,” he sobs out, hands frantically clawing at the mattress.
But instead of doing as he says, you stop and pull away, leaving him looking absolutely bewildered. “No, no, no, why did you stop?!“
“Shh, sweetheart, I won’t leave you hanging, you know I won’t” you say, as you kiss his thighs in reassurance “Would you mind getting the lube for me? It’s on the drawer to the left”
You can’t help but smile at the way he almost jumps up to get the bottle, hair in complete disarray and sheets clinging onto his limbs, even almost falling face first onto the floor when he rolls back onto the bed.
You take the bottle from him, a small thanks slipping past your lips as you pour a generous amount into the palm of your hand “You still okay? We can stop at any moment” you say while warming the lube up between your fingers.
“No please don’t stop” he says almost too quickly and you can’t help but chuckle at his eagerness.
Your hands find his legs again, propping them up and tucking his knees into his chest before your finger finds his rim, and gently circle it.
Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, body relaxing into the sheets as a breathy sigh escapes his lips.
“Mm that’s - that’s really nice” he says, voice slightly cracking as he speaks and you can’t help the endeared smile on your face as you look down at him.
Cute
You continue circling his puckered hole, relaxing the muscle as much as possible before sliding the tip of your finger inside him.
Immediately you feel goosebumps raise on his skin where you’re resting your hand on him , body slightly tensing as a shaky breath escapes his lips
“You okay?” You ask, stopping your movements complety to look up at him.
“Mm just- just- go slow yeah?,” he says body still tense as he runs a shaky hand through his hair.
“Of course“you say as before you gently work the tight ring of muscles, eyes glued to his and gauging his reaction.
He continues to take deep breathes, eyes squeezed shut and hands clinging onto the mattress but as soon as you’re down to the second knuckle of your index finger you hear soft moan rolling off of his lips “Mm ah- just just - just like that ”
“Feels good?” You ask as you you continuously massage the wall of nerves under your fingertips.
He looks down at you, eyes half lidded, and mouth agape while nodding his head “So so good, keep going please”
Slowly but surely you work a second finger into him, altering between grazing the wall of nerves and scissoring your fingers.
“Oh, oh god, please, please please” he whines out, almost grinding down onto your hand.
“Just wait a bit, yeah? I promised I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just let me do so yeah? I’ll take such good care of you I promise” You say while continuously moving your fingers inside him.
He almost wants to protest but agrees anyway, body relaxing into the sheets as he allows you to whatever you want with him
“Good boy” you coo before working a third finger inside of him, drawing more moans out of him and watching the way precum pools on his abdomen.
Eventually the last bit of patience trickles out of Eddie, body thrashing under your grip as pleas continuously tumble past his lips “Come on come on come on im ready please just please fuck me” he whines out, arm thrown over his eyes as his heels dig into your back.
You chuckle at his eagerness but gently slide your fingers out of him, watching the way he winces before a look of anticipation makes its way on his face.
You make quick work of getting the condom and the bottle of lube from earlier, pulse roaring in your ears as you shuffle closer to him, and hands shaking as you roll the condom onto your dick. But you stop completely in your step, hearing yourself take a shaky breath as you take in the sight of the man sprawled out your bed.
“Maybe I need a moment “ you say more to yourself, letting out a laugh before resting your head onto one of his thighs.
He chuckles at that, before you feel his hand trace soothing patterns onto your back. “Take your time” he says, sounding playful but endeared as well.
There’s a moment where the only sound that can be heard is the fluttering from the fan, along with the random assortment of noises coming from outside the window.
His hand is a welcome weight on your body, skin ever so warm as it presses against your cheek and slowly but surely you feel the tension bleeding out your body.
You slowly raise your head to meet his gaze, and as you do you see the way he’s nibbling on his lip while his eyes shift around the room as if preparing himself to ask you something.
“Hey hey hey, is something the matter?” You say with a confused look on your face while giving a gently squeeze to his leg.
Eddie shifts on the bed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously swallows before he finally says something.
“Can I ,, I mean I’d like to you know…ride you,” he says, before he turns his gaze away, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and nervously nibbling on it again.
You blink at him in surprise, before you let out a groan, loud enough to slightly startle the other man.
“Good god Eddie you’re going to be the death of me” you say head burying back into his leg. You immediately feel the tension bleed out his body as a laugh tumbles past his lips.
“So is that a yes?” He says, still sounding a bit bashful while tracing random patterns onto your skin.
“Fuck, yeah, yeah that’s okay with me how do you want me?” you say as you scurry to get off of him.
“Eager” he teases, seemingly much more relaxed now. “Lay down on your back,” he says while gesturing for you to lay down where the headboard is.
“You don’t even know,” you say in response to his comment, not even wasting a second before you lay sprawled out on the bed with a pillow under your head.
He easily straddles your waist, hands resting on your chest to brace himself.
The unsure look bleeds back onto his face, hands fiddling on your chest as he chews on his bottom lip again.
“Eddie,” you say tone as firm as your grip on his hips. “I’m not expecting anything show stopping here. It’s just me and you spending some time together like we always do, just with a little less clothes on” you say with a chuckle but squeezing his hips to bring home your point. “And like I said if you’re not sure about this yet we can just do something else,” you say with a gentle smile on your face, hand reaching out to brush away the hair from his eyes.
He’s quiet for a moment, eyes following your hand before he grabs ahold of your wrist, voice as firms as his hold when he speaks “I want to but,” he pauses, and harshly swallows before he speaks again “I’m -you know uh new to this so please bear with me,” he says before he lines your tip up with his hole, and slowly pushes it past his puckered rim.
“Jesus christ!,” you grunt out, feeling as if your breath’s been punched out of your lungs.
Eddie takes a shaky breath, hands adjusting on your chest as he continues to lower himself.
“You alright?” You say through a strained breath, thumb gently caressing his hip.
“Yeah” he manges to say, brows pinched together and mouth agape as he continues to lower himself.
“Just like that baby, keep going, you can do it, I know you can” you say through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut and doing your best not to buck up into him.
Finally he bottoms out, your balls now firmly pressed against his ass, and he lets out a mewls at the feeling of being so stretched out around your cock.
“You alright?” Eddie asks you, throwing his words back to you, with a shaky smiles on his face while adjusting his hands on your chest.
“Jesus Christ, i'm more than alright, feels - ah feels so so good baby, you don’t even know how good you’re making me feel '' you say between labored breaths, thumb gently caressing his hip again “What about you, pretty ? How do you feel?”
“Feels, feels ah so full” he mewls out while experimentally rocking his hips.
“Ah fuck!” You cry out, head lolling back as you slightly buck up “dont- don’t think I’ll be able to last long- already- already feels so fucking good”
Eddie slowly starts picking his hips up, working himself up your cock only to slam himself back down again”Ah- ah God!” Eddie gasps out, back arching when he gets the angle just right.
“Fuck just like that Eddie, fuck yourself on my cock,” you grunt out, eyes fluttering shut as you buck up to meet his thrusts.
Slowly but surely he becomes more confident, his movements becoming much more pronounced as he loses himself in pleasure.
“Feels so so good” he moans out, head lolling back, moving so fast he’s basically bouncing on your lap.
Once again you can’t help but admire him, from the way his dark locks stick to his forehead, to the way his St. Christopher's necklaces dangles over your face, even in the way his defined abdomen glistens from the precum that’s smeared all over it.
“Close so close please” he moans out, and those words manage to snap you out of your daze as your hands tighten on his hips while bucking up into him again.
“Come on pretty you can do it, I know you can. Make yourself cum on my cock just like I know you can” you say before wrapping one hand around his dick and stroking him, that’s all it takes for him to starts unraveling, coming with a cry and spurting ropes of cum on both your abdomens, with you tightly following close by.
Once the two of you clean up and get back into bed, a comfortable silence falls over you as you bask in each other’s presence.
Suddenly Eddie bursts out laughing and as you meet his gaze, you burst out laughing as well.
“Fuck I love you,” you say through a breathy laugh before you pull the sheets over the two of you.
“Love you too,” he says as he places a kiss to your chest, before his eyes flutter shut and his breathing slows down.
Nothing compares to this, you think to yourself before you drift of to dreamland.
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lanareadsbooks · 10 months
Text
I’m confused about us?
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Inspired by this mood board I made 🩷
This is basically just ooc Billy and literally doesn’t fit into the show’s storyline at all but I love me a good cowboy so I had to write about him.
Tags: Dom!Billy Sub!Reader punishments are given, spanking, smut, oral (m) lemme know if I missed any!
It’s 18 something (?? I have no clue when the show is set in) and you’re 19 when your parents decide drop you off with a man you barely know. William H Booney. They said “he’s a the son of some good friends of ours and they said he’ll straighten you right out” I don’t need straightening. You think. Geez you steel one truck and a bottle of liquor and suddenly everyone thinks your a problem. When you were first introduced you thought “hey maybe this won’t be so bad” You. Were. Wrong. Within the first 30 minutes your parents had left you, you couldn’t stand him. He came and sat down in front of your spot on his couch, Ok listen here little girl. He said, You frowned. Little girl? You thought. These are my rules. Follow them and you and me will be just fine. He smiled. No.1 please don’t steal no trucks or anything I have enough trouble with the neighbors around here I don’t need you making that worse for me. 2 Dont back talk me. There is nothing I hate more than an undisciplined girl. Your frown deeper. Though.. I guess that’s why your here isn’t it? He laughed like it was funny. You scoffed. No I’m here because my parents expect me to stay home and clean or embroider. You laugh, And that’s not something I can do every day. Oh? Speaking of that. You’re not gonna be goin out for the first two weeks. WHAT?! You said shocked. Yes mam I think it’s exactly what you need. He said patting your thigh. I need to not go outside? You asked rudely. No you need to realize you only get what given to you. Now I want you to understand if you break any of my rules you gon be goin over my knee that minute young lady. You understand? He asked. You turned red, w-what? You said hoping you misheard him. Yes mam I don’t know about y’all city people but right here when you misbehave you don’t like what happens to ya. N-no you don’t understand, my parents would never let a strange man do that to me. S-so call my daddy and he’ll tell you you’re not allowed to do that to me. You said almost confidently. Sorry sweetheart your folks were real clear I should do whatever need be to make you behave. Tears came to your eyes, but as long as you’re good you’ll be fine. You can do that right? You said to yourself.
No. No you can not.
Less than 24 hours later you found yourself over his lap, it happened because you saw some boys going on a trail ride through the window, you saw one of them had a flask. You thought how bad do I need that, you had been up since 5am thinking about Billy, how blue his eyes were how commanding his voice was (how good he’d fuck you) but that he’d probably never want you. He apparently he saw you as a little girl. Ugh I don’t like older men anyway (wrongg) you thought. As you tried to quietly sneak down the stairs and out the front door. You saw it was locked with a padlock. Shit you thought. Your eyes darted to the window. You smirked, I don’t know what he was thinking I can fit out of these windows easy. As you were lifting the window up all you saw was two hands towing over you and pushing the window back down. Your heart almost stopped. He leaned down to your ear and said. Now what do you think you’re doing little girl? He asked darkly. Uhhhh. before you could come up with an answer. He had picked you up and put you over his shoulder. You squeaked Ah! You yelled. Put me down!- he did in fact put you down… just over his lap. No! You yelled. Oh hush. No need for a tantrum now. I’m not having a tantrum! I’m a grown woman and you can’t do this t- you were cut off by him putting his hand over your mouth. You tried to wiggle your way out but he easily lifted up your skirt. And you felt a warm hand on your bottom. His hand rose, and fell quickly, alternating cheeks. If there was anyone else in the house they would have definitely heard the loud smacks! Billy was giving you. And your muffled cursing. After about 4 minutes of him doing this you were about to cry. You tried to get away but to no avail. He easily pulled you back to position and gave you two extra hard slaps. And kept going. He finished soon after you started crying. Your bottom stung. Nobody had ever done this to you before. It didn’t hurt that bad but the humiliation hurt He brought you back up and sat you on his lap, you quickly adverted your eyes down as to not make eye contact. But he harshly grabbed your face smooshing your cheeks together, listen, he said dominantly like he was scolding a child. This or worse is gon happen every time you disobey me , you let out a light sob just thinking about it. So I’ll let you decide whether or not you want this kind of stuff to keep happening.
No I really do not you thought.
It was two days later when you ended up in this position again. Billy had jokingly bought you an embroidery kit. And you had not so jokingly told him to fuck off. So he threatened to wash your mouth out with soap… what ? You said. I said you better watch your tongue or I’m gon have to wash your mouth out. He said dominantly. You suddenly felt very wet.. and figured what’s the worst that could happen? There are other things of yours I’d like in my mouth more sir. You said in a lustful tone, while looking up at him from your spot on the bed. Literally two seconds later he was unzipping his pants, he used your mouth roughly holding your hair in a ponytail. After he had came in your mouth and regained himself. You stood up and grabbed his shoulders, pressing yourself against him your body asking him for more- huh? You thought as he quickly sat and pulled you down and back over his knee. W-wait Billy- you tried to protest as he cut he off. Hush. Was all you heard before your skirt was lifted and smacks rained down on your poor bottom. “Luckily” for you it was a lighter one than your first but you were still confused. He was spanking you like a disobedient child. Not like a woman that had just sucked him off. “I’m confused about us” you thought.
This is it for today I’m totally planning on making this a series so request anything that would make sense in the story line once I get a few I’ll write part two so the more yall request the faster I’ll write. Also if you guys want to make any mood boards more this id love it! Also my request have been a bit wonky lately so if it doesn’t seem to be working just dm me please! Thanks for reading!
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ivestas · 2 years
Note
Could I request a könig x reader in which she’s one of the best soldiers/snipers in the world, covered in tattoos, smokes and is a ‘I joined the military out of spite and somehow all that anger turned me into this’, and könig is just smitten with her?
its time you learn to accept yourself
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Summary: Through König, you learn love and self-acceptance. 
Tags: sniper!fem!reader x konig, strangers to friends to lovers, headcanon format, reader implied not to speak german, reader implied to be mentally ill, unedited
Word count: 1.7k
Note: im starting to really like this genre of ship-dynamic LMAO
When you joined KorTac, it was clear you didn’t give much of a shit about anyone there. 
You kept to yourself, spoke in monosyllables, and had much more interest in smoking the cigarettes you kept sneaking into the base than talking to any of them. 
He’d heard operators call you several things—none of them flattering to your image—however, one thing stood out clearly to him:
You were a good shot. They all agreed to that. To them, though your personality was shit, you had the eye of a hawk and the hands of a trained and experienced veteran who knew the sniper like the back of their hand. 
He couldn’t help but admire you, regardless of the fact you’ve never acknowledged his presence or even looked at him. 
He also couldn’t help but admire how calm you were, how you were just... yourself. Sleeves always rolled up with your tattoos in full display, a cigarette always nursed between your lips, the fact you never watered down your personality; he wanted that confidence—no, that sureness your character carried. 
König knew you liked to lurk near the shooting range—since you’d joined, he avoided disturbing you and had often gone to the other side of the range to practice his shots. 
However, in a fit of uncharacteristic confidence, he decided to approach you. 
He was prepared for your scathing words, or the silent look of disgust you often wore around the other men.
But, when he approached, you regarded him neutrally. 
“Hey, you’re...” 
“König.”
“Yeah, König, you’re König.” You echoed the accent of the word, looking proud. “I pronounced that well, right? König.” You repeated his name as though it were a flavorful candy.
He was rendered mute; German sounded so nice on your tongue. 
“König?” 
“A-ah, scheiße, I was lost in thought for a second,” he laughed awkwardly. “You said it well, yes.” 
“‘kay, good. Anyway, what’d you want?’
It was a blunt but reasonable question, but with your eyes trained on him, it was suddenly hard to speak or think. 
Bashfully, he spoke. “May I shoot with you?” 
“Uh, of course? This isn’t my shooting range, man. Have fun.” 
“No, with you.” 
“With me?” You echoed, dumbfounded. “How’d that work?” 
“We’ll make it a friendly competition—if you’d like, of course—whoever gets the most bulls-eyes wins.”
You smiled. It was brighter than the sun. “Sure! Sounds like fun—you go first, then.” 
König does. It was an easy shot, anyone could hit it, but he could feel your eyes watching him. 
Trying to steady his hands, he set his sniper on top of the heavy crates and tried to aim, trying to clear his mind.
It was difficult. Again, your eyes—he wondered if he was making any mistakes he didn’t even know of. He was sure he was doing everything right, but... was he? 
“Your hands are shaking, König. Try steadying them like this,” roughly, you took the hand that had been on the trigger and made the weight even. 
His cheeks erupted in warmth. Too close. 
He quickly takes a shot, and it was just about to hit the bullseye. 
“Time to show ya how the pros do it!” You sit right beside him, kneeling in front of the crates and setting your own sniper onto them. He noticed rough engravings on the snout of your gun, a rough shape of a butterfly and snake. 
Before he could ask about them, you shot. You had barely paused to even adjust. 
When he looked up, he couldn’t help the wave of admiration that hit him.
You hit the bullseye perfectly.
“Maybe one day you can be as good as me,” you teased, voice light. “But your ass needs practice. Can I help?” 
He couldn’t trust his voice so he merely nodded. Thank God he had a hood over his head because he was sure he resembled more tomato than a human. 
After that though, the two of you became closer—you saw each other more, interacted more, etc. 
You had taken a swift liking to him; he was eager to learn, polite, and soft-spoken, how could you not? 
König, though? He’s skipped the ‘friend’ part and went straight to crushing; honestly, he was flattered enough that you just acknowledged his presence, being one of the best snipers and all, but the fact you went out of your way to teach him—talk to him—it went all straight to the heart.
Even on missions, you’d talk to him. You’d often favor being quiet, whistling the odd tune or two before taking your shots, but now you’ve come to just take those small pauses to tease him incessantly. 
König was about to maul an enemy before a bullet shot through their head. 
His earphones sparked to life. 
“You should be more careful, I almost couldn’t save you there.” Your voice crackled through. 
He couldn’t help but huff, half amused, half worried. “Didn’t Aksel say for you to clear out the enemies on your end?” 
“Did already. They were like sitting ducks.”
You two are an actual powerhouse in missions; König with his physical prowess, easily overpowering anyone in his way, and you with your sniper, taking any enemies behind him down in an instant. 
You only grew closer to him and vice versa, and eventually, the daily conversations nearly became constant—attached to the hip, understanding each other to the extent that quick glances would equate to hundreds of lines of dialogue. 
It was during this that you realize you’ve grown... attached. 
It worries you—no, it scares you. 
You were, in your eyes, a poison that could do nothing but harm a soul like König’s; despite is outward brutality, you knew inside he was nothing but gentle—or maybe you were blind. Maybe you were in love and refused to see the dark that tainted his inner consciousness. 
Or, maybe, you liked that too about him. 
In any case, it was worrisome; it bit at your insides, at the quiet part of your mind, it lit everything to flame then ash. 
You weren’t the woman you were before the military; fuck, maybe that version of you never existed—you were always so fucked up, so full of incomprehensible anger that set every step you took on fire. 
That worry turned to anxiety, and it only increased when you realized that your stable, steady hands have become a shaking mess. 
It was during a pause between missions that you try to clear your head, to purge those feelings you thought and knew wouldn’t lead to any good. 
However König—oh, König—followed.
You told him not to, but he knew something was wrong, that you weren’t quite as steady as he’d known you to be; it was a weakness, a vulnerability that, right now, could harm you. 
Neither of you had the comfort of being weak, especially in a safe house that could be overridden with hostiles at any moment of the day. If he couldn’t help, he’d at least want to be able to protect you during this time.
So, he followed, through the murky corridors and under the cloak of night, finding you outside with a cigarette between your lips. 
You saw him and you were ready to snap at him, to drive him away, but he spoke so fucking softly. 
“Are you okay?”
You weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and you knew he knew that. 
So you sighed. Gestured for him to come, and he did, leaning against the concrete wall beside you. 
You were particularly loose-lipped, but at that moment, all inhibitions of restraint were gone. 
“It’s all a lie—when people join the military, it’s rarely for that strive of good.” You took a harsh suck of the cigarette. “You think any person with a good head on their shoulders and love for life would want to be in a fuckin’ military? Or a merc group? No amount of money makes this worth it, no... never.” 
König was silent. Listening. Thinking.
“More often than not, people just join to just—run. Die. Cut their losses and just engulf themselves in the worst of the worst because of their own flaws—hamartias. Know that word?”
König nodded.
You laughed airily. It was hardly a laugh, more like a throwaway noise. “I learnt it back in high school in English class—’fatal flaw of a hero’, or something. Flaws... good, bad, right, wrong, villainous, heroic, it’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”
König nodded again. 
“So many labels for those who, in hindsight, or just cogs to a greater machine. A twisted machination—isn’t that the true evil? The machinery?”
“You make it sound difficult,” König breathed. “When everything is so much simpler than that. Personal principles define those beliefs, right and wrong is as broad as it is small.” 
You hummed. “Never struck you for the philosophical type.”
“I’m not. Philosophy is redundant. The answer is always found within our hearts.” 
“Hmmm.” You took another puff of the cigarette. “The answer in my heart was anger. Always anger. Violence, insults, it always seemed most effective... I thought the military would set me straight, make me more controlled, but it did the opposite.” You stared at the ground, smoke spilling out your lips. “I’m worse now, a festering disease. I can feel myself burning out day by day, and, König? I want you to stay away from that—from me.” 
“I won’t.” 
“What?” 
“I refuse. I will stay by your side.” I can’t bear to leave you alone. 
“But... why?” Why, why, why? 
“Because you’re the most beautiful flame I’ve ever seen.” I love you. Accept that. “Don’t cut yourself short, liebe. You can always change and grow. Or remain stagnant. Either way, my eyes will always be on you.”
You, for the first time in your life, couldn’t trust your voice. 
But when you looked up at him, you hoped that the message was there. That he could see. 
And he did, and you couldn’t help the smile when you saw that the corners of his eyes crinkled. 
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phyrestartr · 20 days
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Man of Worship (P.1) | Zagreus x M!Reader
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
w/c: 2.3k #NSFW themes, demigod reader, eventual polyamory, traumatic past, healing from trauma, mentions of dub-con, mentions of suicide, hurt/comfort, boys being boys, toxic parents, olympic gods doing typical olympic god bs
Note: SO this is basically a rework of Rhubarb, even though I still want to pursue the rest of Rhubarb with that particular reader character, HOWEVER I generally make two or three versions of the same story while I'm brainstorming, and I ended up digging into more Greek mythos while looking for inspo and BOOM.
ANYWAY I didn't tag for this since it's a new fandom I'm writing for, but if you'd like to be tagged, pls feel free to leave a comment!! I'll update my tag form thing in a moment too :D I hope this is a fun read!!
--
1. A Gardener?
He noticed first the flutter of feathered wings. It was an odd thing to hear in the underworld, and even odder still to hear it come from the outer gardens–the place poor, pitiful Zagreus was barred from. 
Father won't tell me anything of this. And that was true--Hades was anything but straightforward and honest with his son. So, to the real parent of the house was where the prince went.
“Erm, Nyx?” Zagreus asked, shooting glances back at the iron gates as he met his mother-figure. “I've got a question for you, if you don't mind.”
“I do not mind. I will do my best to answer, my child.” She watched him with eased attention, then followed his gaze to the forbidden outdoors. “Is something the matter?” 
“No–well, maybe? Not sure, but. Well.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Just–are there birds out in the garden?” 
Nyx blinked. “Birds?” 
“Yes. I keep hearing something fluttering around every now and then, and I swear I've seen something moving around in the garden. You know, the one I'm not allowed to enter?” 
“Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Of course. There is a new servant of the house, one who was chosen to tend to the gardens.”  
“Really.” Zagreus planted his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze returning to the forbidden area. “Well, that's the first I've heard of it.” 
“He does not linger long; he arrives with the sun, and leaves only when the work is done,” Nyx explained. “He is a diligent helper of the House. Your father is quite pleased, I've noticed.” 
“Well, I've never thought that Father could be pleased in any regards.” Zagreus’ mismatched gaze flickered back to Nyx. “But why now? The garden's never needed a tender before.”
“A flower wilted,” Nyx sighed, looking aside. “And your father has grown concerned.”
“Hah. Concerned for the plants? Good to know he can still give a damn about something,” Zagreus bit, sending a scalding glare to the throne. “Guess that's why he locked it up, kept it from me.”
Night smiled, sympathetic. “You do have a reputation.”
“One that I must uphold,” he agreed, heart light and spirit lifted higher. “Thank you, Nyx. I should get back to ransacking my father's domain.”
Nyx nodded sagely and reached a hand up, fixing the tilt of Zagreus’ burning laurel. “I would hope for nothing less, my child.” 
“You play music?” 
Your voice startled Zagreus, sending a Zeus-like jolt through him and holding him in place with a fit of numbing static. Thankfully, however, twas not the true bite of the sky king, and Zagreus had the luxury to back out of his room a few paces. 
“You heard?” He asked, face somehow both paling and burning in tandem.
You, whilst leaning against the iron gate, nodded. “‘N if I did?”
“Oh.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “That's unfortunate. Sorry for the bother.”
“Don't misunderstand me, god.” Your spectral eyes bore into him with easy confidence. Zagreus quite liked that look. “You played much like a dying pigeon at first, I'll admit, but you've improved.” 
Zagreus laughed and approached you. Your dry informality pricked him with intrigue. “Well, now I know you're lying.”
“Lies are useless for those who need the truth.” Your words came so bold, the prince had no choice but to believe you. “I can hear it. The notes–they come easier to you. Sweeter, even. Like figs ripe on the tree.” 
“Figs?” Zagreus tilted his head much like Cerberus might. “Huh. Can't say I've had one of those.” 
“Really? Well, then I shall see to it that you wonder no longer, god.” You leaned away, nearly out of sight of the iron-barred gateway, and jostled through the leaves of a bush or tree of sorts before the sharp snap of something announced your return. 
You stuck your arm through a gap in the fence, one where your glowing skin was threatened by a cascade of decorative thorns, but you didn't much care. That care, instead, found itself funneled into the deliverance of a ripe fig to the prince of the underworld, it seemed. 
Zagreus stared for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving gifts unless he bestowed one upon another, first. To him, this almost felt like–could it be--
“If you don't take it in the next three seconds, I'm going to eat it myself and not hand you another,” you groused.
“Hah.” He snatched the fruit from your hand. “You wouldn't dare.” 
“I've dared much worse, god, believe me.” You withdrew your hand and drummed your palms against the iron. “Well, enjoy. And be sure to clean your hands before touching that lyre again.” You looked him over, face placid as it'd been for his entire short history knowing you–but your eyes, the strange things, they hinted at hidden curiosities. “I'll be listening.” 
“Say, Meg, do you know much about the new House attendant?” Zagreus asked, flourishing his Stygian blade as he walked towards the Fury, prepared to fight after a quick chat.
Megaera's eyes narrowed. “You're talking about the flirt.”
“The flirt?” Zagreus rested his sword down, digging its diamond tip into the cracked ground. “Is that really what he's known for? Flirting? He doesn't seem like the type.”
A heavy sigh left Meg. “Ask Than. He might be more willing to endure your rambling and answer questions. I am not.” 
“You know, I think we really need to work on your patience.” Still, he flicked up his blade of the underworld, and lunged first. 
As the Fates would have it, Thanatos was already at the House. Even more fateful, still, was where he stood–not by the river Styx, no, but by the garden’s gate for a change. Death's presence on that side of the house seemed…odd, despite his infrequent visits to the lounge. Never before did he show interest in a coworker, neither, not unless it was his twin who needed some firm and stringent guidance. 
“Admiring the flowers?” Zagreus asked, and Death flinched. 
“No, I–” He sighed, and spared a look over his shoulder. “What do you want, Zagreus?” 
The shorter one shrugged, and stood beside his age-old friend. “Came to find you. Is that so odd?” 
“If you're going to shove more nectar in my hands, then you can forget it.” Thanatos looked away again and scowled beyond iron bars. “You've made your bed.”
Zagreus stifled a sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I–well–in all honesty, I had a question, one that I'd hoped you could answer.”
“Then ask.”
“Right to the point then.” Zagreus cleared his throat and shuffled closer to Death. “Who exactly is the new gardener? Meg said you might know.” 
Thanatos graced him with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you'd know by now.”
Zagreus shrugged. “I wouldn't be asking if I knew.” 
“He is–” Death paused, his jaw tightening, tendons threatening to snap. “Why do you want to know?”
Zagreus convinced himself not to pry. “We haven't had a new servant of the House in, well, eternities. Father wouldn't allow just anyone in here.” 
“Sure, but don't you think you should ask him yourself?”
“It's hard to catch him. He's quite flighty, as Fate would have it. Must be the wings.” 
“Must be.” Zagreus swore he heard the inkling of a smile on those words. “Well, I don't think it's fair for me to spoil the introduction. But I will say this–he was a servant of the House in life, and now continues on in death.” 
“Really?” Zagreus couldn't quite wrap his head around it. How could someone be devoted to the house before even arriving?
“Yes. He made my job easier, in some regards. Assisted, at the very least,” Death said.
“Huh.” Zagreus crossed his arms and scuffed his sole against time-worn stone. “Guess that explains that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go into elaborate detail regarding what exactly our avian gardener did in life to earn yours and Father's favour? Or, even just his name?” 
“No.” A luminous wash of turquoise licked off Death's shoulders, his scythe. “Ask him yourself. I've work to do.”
And with the toll of a bell, he was gone. 
It took a while to catch you again. Apparently, you kept to a strict, self-imposed schedule that Zagreus couldn't even begin to understand despite its simplicity. Nyx told him you arrived come morning, at the very least. That may have been helpful, if Zagreus could tell the damn time in the underworld. 
So, he resorted to guessing; if he could not find you through the convenience of your daily routine, he'd swing by whenever he died. He was bound to run into you at some point. 
And he did. It was when he wandered to the lounge, eager to deliver a wealth of fish to the head chef, that he caught the ghostly sound of feathers against leaves.
Zagreus backed out of the lounge in time to see your curious glance. A rush pulsed through him–finally, finally, he'd get his chance to interrogate you.
“Hey!” He called. 
“Hey,” You called back. 
“Just--don’t go anywhere. I need to hand over some river denizens and then I need to speak with you,” Zagreus rambled off as quickly as he could. 
Your brows furrowed, but you offered a shallow nod. “I'll wait up.”
With that, Zagreus sped by the gossiping Meg and Dusa and a gaggle of other patrons to all but throw his catch to the head chef. It was a good haul today. Hopefully that meant–ah ha. 
Zagreus rolled the bottle of nectar over in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he sang, and ran off, tucking the gift away before approaching the iron bars.
You were toiling away, a little farther in the garden than before, but not too far to escape the prince's presence. It gave him a chance to take a good look at you: simple black chiton on a well-muscled frame, wings full of bronze feathers, wild hair tied back into the smallest of ponytails. You looked quite ordinary, save for the wings. 
But your eyes had been strange: they glowed. Not with the morose cold of Ixion, but with the exact opposite. Warm. Bronze. Sunlit, maybe. He'd never known sunlight, but you must have kept a drop of it in your very soul.
“So?” You said as you meandered back to him. You walked with unbothered confidence, much different to Zagreus’ sprightly impatience. “What important matters must we discuss?”
“Your name, first of all,” the prince requested. “I am Zagreus, son of Hades and--"
“Prince of the underworld,” you added. “Well, I figured you were him. Good to have a proper introduction, I suppose.” You took a breath. “As for me, you'll call me (Name).” 
Zagreus repeated the name. It held a fullness in his mouth, something sweet and foreign, too much like the fig you'd offered him not too long ago. Maybe you were the minor god of figs (wouldn't that be something?).
“Pleased to meet you, then. I trust the garden will be well-kept in your capable hands. And wings,” Zag said. “Oh! And, ah, here--a token of thanks for your hard work.”
Your brows raised and Zagreus’ chest filled with hope; for once, your blank mask changed, and you looked less like a gorgon-born statue and more like a human. Somehow, it gave him relief.
But your expression crumpled into furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Nectar?” You wondered aloud. 
Zagreus nodded and slipped the bottle best he could through the gap. “Yes, I…I hope you will take it, if it pleases you.”
You examined the bottle as it slipped into your hand and leaned a shoulder up against the gate. “Odd. Why is it in the underworld?”
The tension left Zagreus’ muscles as you accepted the gift. “Not a clue. Maybe Olympus ferries some down here from time to time to try and liven things up.”
“Hah.” The mock laughter almost sounded genuine. “Dionysus would, from what I've heard of him.” You held the bottle up, watching the light reflect shards of gold and ghostly greens. “He's not so bad, that god of wine.” 
“You've met him?” Zagreus wondered.
“No,” you admitted. Your light-filled eyes found him again. “But I've met gods, when I once lived. No man should have to meet them. They bring misfortune, even the supposed good ones.” 
The prince took a sure step forward, and your eyes steeled. “Well, you're right about Dionysus,” he assured instead of scorned. “He's good. I'm sure he's had his moments, still. But I get on with him well.” I'm sure you would, too, he decided against saying; the more he took in your features, the more he realized the god's work carved into you, painting you unnatural colours and robbing you of something only humans could have. He didn't think you'd much enjoy being forced into a hypothetical with them. 
“Then I shall take your word for it,” you said. “And I will pretend this bottle comes from Dionysus, to make it more palatable.”
“Well, whatever pleases you.” Zagreus smiled and leaned against the wall by the gate. “But, if I may ask, which gods have you–”
“Boy,” Hades’ voice thundered, echoing down the hall. “Do not disturb the rest of the House and distract them from their duties. Unlike you, they do not wish to disappoint.” 
Zagreus clicked his tongue and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, Father. I'll get right to ignoring every blasted person in this damn House. Perhaps I'll consider a life of solitude while I'm at it!” 
“Do not test me further, boy.”
Zagreus rolled his eyes, but gave in, finding your (gentler?) eyes once again. “Well. I'd more than happily argue with my father all day–or night–about this, but I wouldn't want you to bear the punishment.” 
You nodded a little and glanced from the prince back down to the bottle. “I appreciate this, princeling.”
“It's nothing, really.” Though Zagreus did indeed beam with delight. “Well, then I'll leave you to your work.”
“Be sure to come back. I need to return the favour,” you said as you turned. “Until then, princeling.”
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runningfrom2am · 27 days
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michigan cherry // part six
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summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.
pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader
wc: 2.4k
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tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops
the songs in this chapter are: "scared of my guitar" by Olivia Rodrigo, "Michigan Cherry" by River Whyless, "Traveling Song" by Ryn Weaver, "Slim Pickins" by Sabrina Carpenter, and "Adore You - Acoustic" by Maisie Peters !!
a/n: ahhh hi it's my birthday! super excited to share this with you guys even though it isn't all that special or exciting but i'm just happy to be back :). last year for my birthday i posted in this life or the next and i wanted to finally get part 3 of that up today but that just wasn't going to happen BUT for everyone asking i am working on it. i swear. i'm not giving up on it!!
my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)
send me any and all of your thoughts! here!
series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist
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You thought that you might have heard somewhere that music is to the soul as opium is to a stubborn cough.
Or, maybe you dreamt that. Regardless, you knew for certain now that it was bullshit. But, with nowhere else to place your heartache, you found yourself sitting by a fire nearly every night with your guitar in your lap, humming soft words under your breath and plucking the strings as gently as you could.
It was for work, yes, but like opium, you had long since become addicted to the routine. Billy had too.
"You can play a little louder, y'know." He hums, tossing a broken twig into the campfire that separates you. "I was promised music in exchange for my services."
"And you get your music." You chuckle, hand pressed over the strings to stop their hum. "You haven't missed a show in almost two months, that ain't enough?"
"Sure, I'm just sayin' don't hold back your practice on my account. I'm happy to listen again." He answers with a soft smile, the yellow glow from the flames warming his features and bathing him in light.
You can't help the matching twitch of your lips to return his, feeling the slight burn in your cheeks that you can't confidently attribute to either the fire or your own blushing. "Well, it ain't much to listen to yet. Not finished."
"Ah, somethin' new?" Billy asks, leaning back on his palms and watching you expectantly as you give him a slight nod.
You're leaning over your guitar to scribble in that little notebook of yours, the pencil almost nothing more than a little nub in your hands and the pages of the book almost filled to the brim with words and notes. The temptation he faces every day to just grab it while you're sleeping or out away from the camp on a little walk has become an almost unbearable curiosity.
Because yes, he loves the songs you do sing, but what he wouldn't give to hear the ones you don't.
Billy would dive at any opportunity to see just a little more into your beautiful mind.
"Yeah, kinda." You hum in response, distracted again by the strings of your guitar effectively wrapping around your heart and your fingers and dragging your attention back to it.
"Okay, then, let me hear what you have so far."
You hate doing that, normally. You would hardly even play incomplete songs for your family when they were around- that awkward moment where you just have to trail off and go "Um, that's all I have..." and try to laugh but not too awkwardly was something painful.
But, this was Billy. Something about him compelled you to agree.
The problem was, the song you were currently meddling with the idea of may or may not be about him. You'd like to confirm with yourself that no, it is not about Billy, but damnit- he's the only person in your life. What else were you meant to write about?
You look down at the pages next to you, narrowed eyes reading over your own writing.
'Perfect, easy, so good to me. So why's there a pit in my gut, in the shape of you'-
Nope, nope, no. He's not hearing that.
You could deny all you wanted that the unfinished song was about him, try and claim to yourself that it was about Max- but deep down you knew the direction it was going.
You flick through the most recent pages, trying to spark your memory of something safer.
'Tart and sweet like a wild berry Tart and sweet your words to me Dark and red like a Michigan cherry Dark and red as the Iliad sea Here we lie in the deep night ready Here we lie, our skin is bare'-
That's definitely not going to work either. Your cheeks get somehow hotter and you clear your throat, flipping the page again.
Okay, this is much better.
"Like I said, it ain't done, so... not much to it yet, but..." You say, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes as you quickly scan the new page again and position your fingers over the guitar strings.
Billy gives you a steeled nod, sitting up a little straighter ready to listen as if he would be a judge of the quality of your music. It was a joke, you both knew it. He knew he couldn't come up with a critiquing word toward your music if he was held at gunpoint and forced to try.
"Nobody knows where they are going Oh, how we try to wrap our minds Over the edge of all our knowings Be it a bang or the divine Tip of my iceberg blues are showing I've never been one for goodbyes So, 'til I meet you there, I'm singing A traveling song to ease the ride And so you know, everywhere I roam I'll see you on the road."
Your voice is steady, focussed on getting it out rather than dwelling on the meaning of the words and Billy could tell.
"So farewell to my friend, He who taught me to love like a beast And to feast like the queen that he fed turtle soup Little boy from Paris to the States, check the facts That was Magical Max He was black sheep and mischief and love for his craft..."
His heart leaps at the little laugh that falls from your lips at the memory of your friend, your fingers slowing their strum to a steady halt. He doesn't expect you to continue, but you do, your smile quickly fading again back into an attempt at indifferent focus.
"Then he told me that I was starlights that shine On that very last day, he said "Shoot for your dreams, little girl, to the stars" Well, I'm taking you with me Now this one is ours and I know what you'd say you'd say "On with the show!" So on we go."
How embarrassing it is to almost cry singing a song that isn't done, for your best friend who would never live to hear it. Whose memory deserved to be shared. It wouldn't get very far if you couldn't even share it with one person; if you couldn't even stomach finishing it.
"Um, so... I'm not sure about chording for that last bit, or honestly the lyrics. I think it feels better without the guitar, but..." You say quickly, focussing yourself on your book and pretending to scribble something in it just so you wouldn't have to look at the boy sitting across the fire from you.
"I think it's perfect." Billy tells you, a softness to his tone you only had the pleasure of hearing once in a blue moon.
What he meant to say was that it's beautiful, that it's a flawlessly fitting tribute that he felt lucky to hear, that when sung by an angel's voice like yours he didn't doubt for a second that your friend Max had heard it from beyond the veil and loved it too. Even unfinished.
None of that was what came out though, essentially awestruck the way he always was at your shows- but this time he was able to actually speak to you after hearing it instead of just clapping, whistling, or if he was lucky, catching your gaze with a smile and a corny thumbs up that told you he thought you were doing great. Not that you needed it.
"Thanks." Your sweet voice replies, watching him for a moment you determine to be too long before your focus is back on the notebook next to you. "Anyway, um, if you want to hear something else unfinished, this one I think is going to be kind of funny."
"Show me what you've got, then."
Billy simply couldn't resist anymore.
Sitting absentmindedly on a hay bale in a barn where a local owner was gracious enough to let the two of you stay, that damned notebook seems to be glowing right in his face from the sunlight streaming through some bullet holes in the wood paneling that made up the side of the stable.
It's taunting him, he's sure of it.
This stare-down has been going on for about ten minutes since you left it out on the ground next to your guitar to go use the homeowner's washbasin to clean up when his wife offered- you weren't going to turn down a bath that wasn't in a creek.
That would probably take you a while though, you'd likely savour it, so he could just take a look. You'd sing him pretty much anything asked, and what could possibly be more vulnerable than that song you wrote about Max that you shared with him a couple of weeks ago? Surely you wouldn't mind all that much. On the off chance you ever found out. Which, of course, you wouldn't- because he would put it right back where it was after just skimming it.
It's not Billy's fault your handwriting just looks so pretty and you're a poet without publication privileges- it would just be a waste if no one ever read your pretty musings written oftentimes to no one.
And still, he convinces himself again, that you would never know.
He gets up and studies the book to make sure he could put it back down at the right angle before picking it up, hands gentler than they have ever been- like he was touching his mother's precious crystal vase, a wedding gift that had been long lost to time in several moves across the sea and then the country.
He opens the notebook and immediately he can see how you've grown since this book was first picked up by your delicate hands. How your print has changed from beginning to almost end, the pages all wrinkled from spills and humidity and time.
How lucky, he thinks, to be chosen by you for this journey of your life. Why does he feel so much camaraderie for a book?
He skims the pages, delighted to see that it isn't just full of words but drawings too; the sweetest most delicate doodles of little things like your guitar or a flower here and there squeezed in amongst the words on the pages. The amount of talent one young woman could possess astounded him, it's shocking that it doesn't drip out of your every pore in the very black ink that you use to write. 
He can't help smiling a little to himself as he reads the scrawled titles and lyrics to songs he recognizes and he can practically hear your beautiful voice singing every word he's already heard.
'A boy who's nice that breathes- I swear, he's nowhere to be seen.'
That was the funnier song you sang to him those odd weeks ago, and just remembering the small laugh that fell from your lips as you sang the words makes him chuckle too as he reads it.
You had told him you wrote it with Sarah, and he could tell- based on the two distinctive styles of handwriting squeezed onto the small page.
He begins to realize as he flips through the pages of the small tattered notebook resting in his lap, that you had been dating the pages. Finished songs had dates of beginning and completion going back a little over a year, and he figures this must not be the first one you've gone through.
Billy comes to the near back of the notebook, as much as he would love to spend all day reading every word you'd ever translated turning your life into poetry or ballads of melodic storytelling, he knew his time was limited.
One song in particular catches his attention, though.
'So high that I am floating, So good that I'm out of my head. So low baby I was hurting, you made it better again.
Oh, we got caught in a moment, and I'll lay with you all night. So good that now I'm hoping you'll hold me down for life.
I adore, I adore, I adore you.'
The corners of his lips twitch up in a smile as he reads the words, scribbled out and rewritten several times in some places.
It's unfinished, but dated to have been started a couple of weeks ago. He remembers you had asked him what the date was that day, and saw you write it down as he answered- your hair falling over your face and brushing your shoulders as it shielded the book from his view.
A couple weeks ago.
And the drawing- oh, how his heart flutters in his chest so quickly it feels like his ribs have transformed into a sparrow's cage.
To Billy, it looked like him. He knew he must be thinking crazy, after all, it had been a while since he had had a proper look in a mirror, but it sure felt like he was right now- down to the little feathers on his hat and the shape of his cupid's bow. You had given yourself away with the scope of your artistic faith.
"What are you doing?"
At the sound of your voice, slightly hesitant as you stand in the entrance to the barn, he slams the book shut and jumps just about a foot in the air; a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"N-nothing! I just, it just- um..." It was still clutched in his hands, already weary of parting with the precious object of your affections. "It, um... It fell, and I- I just picked it up, and-"
When he looks up at you, you look mildly horrified; cheeks burning the same way his are and eyes blown wide like you had been the one who was caught doing something wrong.
Neither of you move, both frozen on the spot, terrified of the next words that might fall from the lips of the other.
You weren't about to incriminate yourself by asking in a shaky voice if he had read or looked at any of it, knowing he did, and he wasn't going to ask if that song or any others he skimmed (and wish he took more care reading) were about him like he hoped they were.
After a moment of staring at each other like both of you were hostages with guns to your head respectively, you both decide to make the first move at the exact same time. He quickly holds the book out to you at the very moment you reach out to take it, and the awkward exchange makes you want to curl up under the hay bale you were meant to sleep on and rot there.
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no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!
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leighsartworks216 · 1 year
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I Come With Knives Pt5
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Am I happy with this chapter? I think so??? I think I was trying to get it to go somewhere it didn't want to go before but I'm happy with how it ends now. I don't know if the words I'm saying make sense I'm so tired lmao
This chapter was inspired by A Lover's Folly (the chapter Fear of Losing It, specifically) by @tripleyeeet! Please go give it a read it's so fucking good
Warnings: angst, blood, murder, canon-typical violence, swearing, hints to a panic attack, Macbeth reference
Word Count: 2,103
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“A mystical and dangerous people, we travel the land, never settling in one place. We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters - your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure.” You look at Astarion from the corner of your eye. Despite his cool, confident demeanor, you can see how tense he is. He’s staring at the man before you like a steak on a silver platter. “I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer. A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I’m no witchdoctor or cut-throat.”
“So what monster are you hunting?”
Astarion pipes in, a devious smirk playing on his lips. You’re shocked the self-proclaimed monster hunter does not take notice of his fangs or the punctures on his neck. Though, Astarion’s are far less prominent than yours - you feel fortunate to have a high collar. “Something terrifying, no doubt. Dragon? Cyclops?” He paused, a teasing lilt in his voice as he adds, “Kobold?”
Gandrel chuckles. “Nothing so dramatic. Actually, this quarry is a bit unusual. My people got word of a missing person, stolen in the night by a vampire. It’s unlikely they’re still alive, but with any luck we’ll find the kidnapper.”
You swallow, but the hunter doesn’t seem to notice. Astarion can hear the spike in your heart rate. “That’s not much to go on.”
“You’re right about that. We do know the victim’s name, though there’s not much work can be done with that save wander around shouting for them.” He tells you the name, and your heart drops. You make a good effort not to show it. Your face is still neutral as before, your body stiffly in position, but with a glance Astarion can see the way your eyes are distant. They flicker over Gandrel’s face, assessing the threat he possesses. You’re trying to work up a plan, an escape route, anything - but fear clouds your thoughts. Astarion can smell the anxiety wafting off you, even through the hunter’s stench.
This shouldn’t be as big of a problem as your mind makes it to be. You could lie, tell him you weren’t stolen, tell him you ran away. Perhaps he would take money for his silence. But what if he chose to take you back anyway? What if she is providing a much higher reward than anything you can offer? You can’t go back. You can’t.
Astarion clears his throat and steps forward. “And if you find them? Where will you be taking them, exactly?”
“With any luck? I’d be taking them back to Berdusk.”
Berdusk. Being able to place a name to the city of your tormentor somehow made it worse. You knew where she resided now - you could simply take a detour from Baldur’s Gate and kill her. But, that would mean going back. Walking within reach of her clutches. You could almost feel her hot breath against your neck. Her nails digging into your skin. You can’t go back to that.
“Are you alright?” Your mind is forced back into your body when the Gur directs his question at you. You search your mind for an excuse, but fall hopelessly short.
Astarion steps in where you falter. “Ah, yes, you remember then, darling?” He speaks, then, to the Gur. “I believe we heard that name along our travels. A mere whisper on the wind.”
The hunter lights up. “Really? Any information you have would be invaluable to my mission.”
He taps his chin, frowning in fake thought. “It’s a bit foggy - we must have crossed paths weeks ago by now. If only I could remember…” He looks at the Gur from the corner of his eye, smirking. “Perhaps I can be enticed to recall just where they went.”
The man sighs. He reaches for his coin purse. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’s reaching for a weapon. He knows who you are. He’s going to kill you. He knows what Astarion is. He’s going to kill you both.
When your mind catches up, the man is on the ground. You kneel over him. Two hands hold your dagger within his eye, hilt-deep. The other stares blankly up at you, mouth gaped around a silent scream. Droplets of blood marr your face, mere specks of warmth and wet.
“Shit.”
Astarion grabs your shoulder, but your mind is still consumed by fear and paranoia. You whirl around, bloody blade bared at the vampire. Your grip is all wrong - you’re terrified. He steps back, hands raised. Your eyes flicker across his face over and over again, but you don’t see him. In his place is a stranger. Someone ready to steal you, haul you back to Berdusk, back to your master.
“As much as I love the offer, now isn’t the time,” he quips. He kneels down slowly, getting to eye-level. His whole face is dark. The reference to sex is completely masked by his seriousness. “You’re safe. You’re not going back - not if I can help it.”
Your hands shake. Drops of blood fall off the knife, landing in the dirt without a sound. His blood. This man’s blood.
Gods, what have you done?
You drop the knife like it burns you to hold it. It clatters to the ground with a dull thud. You didn’t notice before the blood staining your fingers, but you do now. It’s all you can notice. Well, that, and the body beside you.
“I-I killed him,” you stammer out, barely a whisper. Astarion says nothing. He realizes the irony in your guilt just as much as you. “I didn’t even think- I didn’t… Gods.”
Your thoughts are consumed by the red stains. You have to get them off. You have to rid yourself of this ever-growing weight in your stomach. But you don’t have much to wipe it off on. Your clothes? Then you’d have to wash the blood out. (Though, little flecks stick to your collar and sleeves already.) The ground? Rub dirt all over until somehow it removes the red? You couldn’t even entertain the thought. But you needed to get it off.
You frantically wipe the blood away with your hands, only serving to spread it further into your skin. But it’s all you can think to do. You have to get it off. You must. If you don’t… If… Would something bad happen? You’re not sure. It feels like yes, something terrible would occur the longer it sat on your flesh. But what? Why won’t it fucking come off?
You don’t even realize you’re speaking. Half-formed desperate, choked pleas to get rid of the blood. Prayers to higher powers to forgive you - even when you’d never prayed for such a thing before. Insults spewed toward yourself, damning you for being so fucking weak.
So you killed a man, so what? You’d killed hundreds to get you where you kneel. What made him any different?
I killed him in self-defense.
You’ve killed loads of men and creatures alike for the same reason.
He didn’t recognize me.
You don’t know that, do you?
All he had was a name. Not even a description of who he searched for. He wouldn’t recognize me.
And why dwell on that? If he’d recognized you, surely he’d drag you back? Tie you up, gag you, drop you on her doorstep. She’d recognize you.
And she’d punish me. Punish them. And then she’d see my scars. What then?
Then she’d gut you. Slowly. Keeping you alive for as long as possible so she can moan to your screams, so she can lick her fingers clean of your adrenaline-rich blood. She’d even do it in front of her spawn. And they’d love it.
I hurt them.
You fucked up and they paid for it. They’d laugh as you beg for mercy. They’d even join in if they could.
But he didn’t need to die. Astarion, he- He could have led him away. I would have been safe.
And when he realized Astarion sent him on a wild goose chase? He’d turn right back around. And by that point his suspicions would fall to you - the leader. He’d know.
He’d know you’re the monster he hunts.
Hands roughly grab your own, snapping you out of your restless trance. Your skin is not only red from blood, but from how much you rubbed and scratched. Small lines beaded with your own blood where your nails broke the skin. It stung. And finally feeling that pain grounded you further.
“Calm down, for gods’ sakes,” Astarion cursed. He hurriedly pressed a white handkerchief into your hand. It was soft and cool to the touch. Gold embroidery danced around the edges, quickly becoming stained and ruined. “You’re going to rip your skin off.”
You felt everything so vividly. You almost wished you were numb to it again. “I’m sorry,” you croaked. “I don’t know what happened, I just… I thought of her. Of what she’d do to me, and I couldn’t think of another way out.”
He sighed, annoyed but all too understanding. “I was going to send him off North. By the time he realized he’s been had, we would already be in Baldur’s Gate.”
“I’m sorry.”
He smirked wickedly, mischief twinkling in his eye, despite the tinge of concern underlying it all. “You’ve simply provided a more permanent solution to our problem.” He glanced over, but you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to look again. “No point worrying about it now.”
“He could have helped,” you chastise. The intensity was only directed toward yourself. “If we paid him or explained or- or something, he could have gone back and said I was dead. Then- then she might have stopped looking for me.”
“And if he didn’t?”
You couldn’t let yourself spiral through that argument again. You just shook your head, opening your eyes to watch as he wiped away the blood. Most of it stayed, requiring water to wash it off - a realization that frightened you. What if the blood never came off?
“I know it may seem hard to believe,” he began. His voice was strained, like he was forcing himself to believe in it too, “but you’re not alone in this fight. If she finds you - Do you hear me? If. - we can protect you. And if she takes you away, we know where to find you now.”
“Berdusk.” He hummed, pleased you understood his meaning.
“Karlach would go on a rampage before she ever lays a finger on you.”
You chuckled weakly at the thought. You could almost picture your companion barging down the front door of the manor, everybody else behind her, as she tears through the place to find you. It’s… comforting.
A shiver runs through your body as the adrenaline finally fades from your system. You sighed. And just when most of your guilt has left, another weight finds itself in your throat - a heavy lump of fear. “I’m afraid to go to Baldur’s Gate,” you admit quietly. He pauses to look up at you, red eyes scanning your face. “Berdusk is so close by.”
“If it’s any consolation, Cazador is in Baldur’s Gate.” You hum; he’s told you this before.
“And you’re walking back into arms reach.” You look up from your hands. “Doesn’t that terrify you?”
He huffs a humorless laugh. “Do I hide my fear that well?” he teased. “Of course I’m terrified. I have no idea how well these tadpoles block his influence. For all I know, the moment I step foot in the Gate, he’ll have full control over me again.
“But if there’s even the slightest chance I could kill him, I’m going to take it. I can’t go back to that life. Not after this.”
Not after experiencing freedom for the first time in too long.
Astarion curls your fingers around the handkerchief so you’ll hold it. He picks up your bloody dagger and cleans the blade on the dead Gur’s clothes. You can’t watch, but you can see the sneer on his face as he does so. He reaches forward and tucks it away in your sheath. It feels heavier at your hip somehow.
He holds you by your arms as you stand, continuing to hold your hands in front of you. It feels wrong to let them hand so casually by your side, and just the thought of using them makes you feel worse. He turns you away from the body, directing you back toward camp.
You can still feel the Gur’s blood in your skin, even after you spend two whole hours washing your hands.
---
Tag List:
@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie
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ssivinee · 11 months
Text
✧Falling Fast✧
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Huh Yunjin x Dancer! F Reader:  Seo Y/n is a well-known dancer known as the “Cool Dancer with a Pretty Face,” the hype surrounding her after the dance show led to a spike in her career, choreographing for more groups or being their group’s background dancer. One of which is HYBE. What she doesn't expect is falling for Huh Yunjin in the process.
Word Count: 2k
Note: Bolded words are when they talk in English btw. This was written before even SWF 2. THAT'S HOW LONG ITS BEEN IN MY DAM DRAFTS. I needed a break from writing from the SWF girlies a lil😭. Anyways enjoy na lang kayo.
This one also doesn't have a tag list bc its my first time writing for Yunjin, BUT if you want to be added to one in the future for lesserafim or any other idol just lmk! [repeat from Seo Y/n mood board]
Character Vision Board
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Quintessential was an upcoming dance crew formed only 4 months before the first season of SWF, but now, after the show, they’ve become one of the more well-known groups. Now, this didn’t come with ease. Being a 99’ liner, the youngest out of all the leaders, and being in the middle of her crew’s age group caused Y/n to feel the need to prove herself repeatedly on the show, but it clearly paid off.
Following the show, you successfully launched your very own studio, and the buzz generated around it was truly immense. With the remarkable achievements of "Q.Essence Dance Academy," it quickly became a strong contender among prominent dance studios, rivaling the likes of 1Million and JustJerk.
"Y/n unnie!~" Iseul, the youngest dancer on the team, calls out as you walk down the wide corridor. Concerned, you stop in your tracks. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Your panic intensifies as Iseul's worried cries catch your attention. You quickly inspect the girl, scanning her body for any signs of injury and even spinning her around a few times just to be thorough. "No, but I do have some news!"
Y/n cringes slightly in response to the younger dancer's high-pitched shrieks, her hand waving in the air to dismiss the sound. With a mixture of concern and impatience, she urges, "What's going on? Just tell me, please." Her eyebrows furrow as she waits for more information, her curiosity piqued by the urgency in the young dancer's voice.
"HYBE sent us an email saying they want us to be their background dancers. And they want you to help choreograph for the group!" Iseul's eyes shine excitedly as she clutches Y/n's arms and bounces up and down with joy. Y/n's face lights up, but she can't help but ask, "That's great! But which group?"
“Ah, Le Sserafim.”
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Y/n felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment as she stood within the Hybe building. It had taken weeks of painstaking choreography adjustments for the 'Unforgiven' album, rigorous scrutiny by the company to ensure its quality, and her dedicated work on specific parts for the background dancers. But today marked a momentous occasion as Quintessential was about to rendezvous for their long-awaited practice session with Le Sserafim. The anticipation and excitement in the air were palpable, culminating in all the hard work and dedication that had led to this day.
In the renowned Hybe dance studio, anticipation ran high among the gathered dancers. Each of them was engrossed in refining their movement; an atmosphere of focused preparation filled the air. As they practiced, the studio door swung open, and in walked a group: the manager, the main choreographer, and the members of Le Sserafim.
"Hello," a chorus of polite bows and warm greetings fill the room as everyone acknowledges each other. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of anticipation.
"Girls, these are the dancers you'll be collaborating with for this comeback!" The introduction of the main choreographer takes everyone by surprise, and all eyes turn towards Y/n. "The choreographer of your dance is a part of this team as well, so please don't disappoint her."
Stepping forward with a confident smile, Y/n bows respectfully before the five members of Le Sserafim. "Hello, my name is Seo Y/n. Please take care of me."
"We know who you are," Eunchae, her voice tinged with excitement, responds. "We're honored to work with you," Chaewon adds, punctuating her words with a deep bow, and the rest of the girls follow suit.
The team starts to assemble, and Y/n, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, encourages them, "Now, show me what you've got." The room brims with excitement as dancers and idols prepare to merge their talents in a creative collaboration.
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The past few days have been full of enjoyment for Y/n, but this was mainly due to one person.
Huh Yunjin.
At first, she found the girl’s dance impeccable, down to the detailing Yunjin paid attention to, her charisma, and her overall swag. With the time spent with all the members, she even found her personality alluring as well.
How Yunjin would suddenly burst out in English, her contagious laughter, the loud laughs and yells. Everything about her made practicing entertaining and easy for Y/n.
It was currently 10 pm and team practice was beginning to end. Everyone was already headed home while Y/n, Yunjin, and the other members were only heading out. “Chaewon unnie, can I stay for a bit? I wanna get Y/n unnie to help me with certain parts.”
“Fine, but text me when you’re coming home, and stay safe!” The leader says as they leave the room. “You need my help? You’ve been acing the choreography though? I don’t think there is anything else I can do at your amazing level.” Yunjin laughs at the girl, finding her usual comments sweet.
Yunjin noticed these things about Y/n, how she praised everyone with sincerity, helped whoever needed one on one practice, and the pretty smile she always had on her face while dancing. Yunjin not only saw Y/n’s passion for dancing in her smile but in her eyes as well. She even accommodated Yunjin’s habits and began speaking in English sometimes, which apparently she was fluent in.
This became a bit of an issue for the idol though.
Focusing during practice was on hard mode every time Y/n was within 5ft of her vicinity. There was no doubt, the dancer was as gorgeous as everyone says, and the camera of SWF or even Tiktok didn’t do her justice. Yunjin couldn’t help but stare at her throughout the several practices.
“So what do you need help with then?” Y/n began to take off her sweater which revealed the cropped tank top she wore, showing off her toned body. As per usual, Yunjin’s brain starts buffering but she keeps her composure. “The shimmy in the second verse, I don’t really know how to make it less awkward.”
“Well, let’s fix that then.” Y/n turns on the music at the part and Yunjin shows off the move multiple times in certain ways but she never got it in the way she wanted it to look. “Okay, let’s try tensing the shoulders a little more. You want more control over the shimmy so it doesn’t look too messy.” Yunjin shows the move again and changed it accordingly but the dancer still saw the stiffness.
“Yunjin, I said tense up your shoulders, not your whole body,” Y/n giggles at the girl’s face after her comment. “Unnie~ Help me~, Yunjin whines with a slight pout on her face.
"Okay, here,” Y/n suddenly stand right behind Yunjin’s body, placing her hands on the idol’s hips. “Relax the waist and hips but stiffen the legs.” Yunjin’s body begins to go stiff feeling Y/n’s warm hands on her waist. They felt strong and firmly wrapped around her. “Yunjin-ah?”
“Oh yeah, sorry.”
Yunjin does the move again with Y/n’s hands still in place and she looks much more secure in the move. Y/n lets go and tells her to do the move again without her hands as support and Yunjin nails it. “Look at you go,” Y/n tells her, smiling. “Only because of your help.”
“No not just because of me Yunjin, you’re already an amazing dancer. You just needed a little push.”
“Thanks, unnie,” Yunjin hugged the girl and Y/n felt her heart racing a little as Yunjin’s face was super close to hers.
Her eyes flicker down to Yunjin’s lips quickly, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Come on, let me drive you home. It’s getting too late for you to go alone,” Yunjin’s face began burning up as the comment was accommodated with a kiss on the cheek. “Sure, let’s go.”
"Yah, Yunjin ah! You've been spacing out a lot recently," Sakura tells the girl who blankly stared at the dance studio's mirror, feeling shocked at the sudden call out to her.
"Shit," she mumbles. "Sorry guys, there's too much on my mind right now."
"You wanna talk about it?" Chaewon looks at her worryingly but Yunjin hesitantly nods. She knew the best way to get it off her mind was to find a resolution and it would be easier with the member's input.
"So what's this about?" Kazuha asks as all of them sit down on the floor. It was currently the night before the comeback showcase and the girls were finalizing details and facial expressions. "It uh... about Y/n unnie."
"Wait did she do something to you?" Sakura intervenes, worried for the younger but this makes Yunjin go frantic. "No, no! It's just that, I think I might be catching feelings for her," she mumbles towards the end, but everyone heard loud and clear. First, the girls were silent, just looking at each other which made Yunjin nervous.
But that was followed with squeals of happiness.
"Wait this is a big deal unnie," Eunchae tells her, "Korea is progressing but I can't say it's progressing quick enough on this topic."
"Ay~, the public doesn't have to know. Privacy is key in relationships so it shouldn't matter too much," Sakura tells her, almost as if she's giving advice to all of them. "Kkura unnie is right, as long as you're happy, we'll support you in any decision you make," Chaewon says, rubbing the girl's back as support.
This gives Yunjin courage, "Okay, I know what I have to do."
The next day, everyone was backstage, getting ready for the showcase. All the girls were in their makeup chairs getting pampered up, but Yunjin couldn't hide her nervousness due to her plans.
This causes her to pace around the room from time to time, not knowing if she's making the right call. What if it ruins their friendship? What if she doesn't like me back? What if she doesn't like women?
These were all the thoughts running through her head.
"Yunjin-ah, don't worry about it too much, I'm sure she likes you too." Sakura tells the girl as she eats a snack. "True, I've seen the way Y/n unnie looks at you," Kazuha says, unknowingly calling you out.
That statement in itself makes Yunjin's head turn, almost giving herself major whiplash, "What do you mean by that?"
"Her eyes look like they have stars every time she looks at you. It's cute. It looks like they twinkle," Kazuha tells them as she takes a sip of her drink. "She stares at you a lot too, unnie," Eunchae tells them her observations.
"Really?
"Really," all of them reply.
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The showcase had finally ended, and it was a massive success. Le Sserafim couldn't talk to the dancers too much because the time was too short. Everything had to be quick, from backstage to performing for the next few hours.
This didn't stop Yunijin and Y/n from interacting, though. When everyone walked out on stage, Yunjin couldn't help but notice how good Y/n looked in all back. Given that's what the dancer wore almost all the time, it never disappointed her, to say the least.
Y/n gave her a little wave before heading on, which made her even more nervous to perform, but she did terrific regardless.
"Guys, I'll be right back!" She tells the members, heading out of their waiting room, with everyone telling her, "Good luck!" She leaves with a singular rose and note in hand, but as she makes a left turn after the long hallways, she sees Y/n coming while holding something behind her and a small jewelry box in the other hand.
This makes Yunjin sulk a little, 'looks like she was gonna give that to someone.’
"Hey, unnie!" Trying to sound like her perky self. "Oh Yunjin, hey."
"Where were you heading to?" Yunjin asks the girl, heart aching a little without knowing your answer. "Actually, I was going to your team's waiting room," Y/n nervously rubs the back of her neck while Yunjin's eyes begin to sting a little, 'So she likes one of my members?'
"Well, technically I was gonna go talk to you."
Yunjin's head raises in surprise to see the girl revealing a giraffe plushie. "I wanted to give these to you, but it seems like you're a bit busy too, so I'll let you go," Y/n says disappointingly as she notices the flower and note in her hand. "Wait, unnie!"
Y/n turn around and sees Yunjin closer to her, "This is for you."
If Y/n could run in embarrassment right now, she'd probably be a mile away already. Her heart was beating too fast, and she was worried Yunjin would hear it, but the idol's heart was even louder, making Y/n smile. "I wanted to tell you I liked you for a while," the older tells her while handing over a gift, making them switch the items they held.
"I always thought dancing was the only thing that could make me happy. Turns out you do, too." Yunjin blushes harshly at her words, and she can't even hide them fast enough, which causes Y/n to giggle at her. "I've liked you for some time as well, unnie. I was too afraid to tell you cause I didn't know if you liked women. I mean, you're also very pretty, so I'm sure you had many suitors. I had to talk to my members to make sure I was pre-," before Yunjin could even continue her ranting, her lips were met with the feeling of warmth and pillows.
Eyes wide open, Yunjin couldn't even fathom the thought of you kissing her, but here she was, beginning to melt at the touch of your lips. As they pull away, Y/n hugs her as they return to the Le Sserafim waiting room. "You were rambling, dummy," The dancer tells her with a quick peck on the head, making Yunjin pout.
As Y/n laughs at the reaction, Yunjin tells her, "Can I kiss you again? Your lips tastes like strawberries." The two smile at each other.
"How about we save that when I take you out on a date?"
If Yunjin couldn't blush any harder, she thought wrong. "I can get with that."
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vodika-vibes · 4 months
Note
Hello! I've been reading a lot of your content lately and love your writing so much! I was wondering if I could request a little fic about Dogma x a very outgoing, naturally confident social butterfly kind of reader who works on base and a lot of clones seem really into them, but they only ever flirt with him or try to ask him out. And their admirers can't figure out why Dogma of all people but the reader has no kriffs to give and just keeps giving him all their romantic attention until he gets it. Thanks in advance!
Two Souls Intertwined
Summary: You’ve made your choice, you just have to convince Dogma that you mean it.
Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader
Word Count: 886
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: Hihi! Thank you for your request! I'm always happy to write for Dogma, so I hope you like this!
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“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” You don’t look up from the game you’re playing on your comm as your coworker, and sometimes friend, drops into the seat across from you. “You’re surrounded by attractive men. At all times. And you want Dogma?”
You glance up at the way she says Dogma’s name, “What’s wrong with Dogma?” You ask, offended on his behalf.
“Well...he’s just...he’s not much fun, is he?”
“He doesn’t have to be fun, I like him anyway.”
“Just…” She shakes her head, “I know that so many of the men have a thing for you. And you’re, like, scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
You scowl at her, “I’ve made my choice, and, just for your comments, I’m going to go flirt with him even harder.”
She chokes on her caf, “I...what?”
You throw a cocky grin at her, and push to your feet, downing your caf in one long gulp, before you head out of the break room.
At this time of day, Dogma is probably outside. He likes to take what free time he’s allowed to read something. For a moment, just a moment, you feel bad about interrupting his free time, though you push the guilt aside with ease.
It’s not like he’s ever said, “Leave me alone,” after all.
You head through the halls, and open the door that leads to the courtyard in the middle of the base.
Why this base has a courtyard is beyond you, but you’re glad it does. It offers a nice change of pace from the sterile white and gray halls of the base.
And there he is, sitting under a tree with a datapad in his hands.
A bright smile crosses your face and you dutifully ignore the way that your heart skips when you see him.
You’re well and truly in love with him.
Dogma doesn’t say anything as you walk over to him, and he says nothing as you settle onto the ground next to him. Though he does glance at you when you shift so that your back is pressed against his arm and your head is tilted back to rest on his shoulder.
“Back again?” He sounds more amused than anything.
“Always.” You counter cheerfully.
“You are determined, aren’t you?”
You tilt your head back so you’re able to grin at him.
Dogma’s smile is tiny, but it is there, “Alright. Lay it on me.”
“What?”
“Today’s pick up line.”
You press a hand to your chest, a look of mock offense crossing your face, “I would never-”
“Ah, so I’ve been imagining all of those other pick-up lines, then?” Dogma asks with an arched brow, and you laugh and shift so you’re sitting next to him properly, “You know, my brothers are convinced that you’re using those just to get a reaction out of me.”
You roll your eyes, “They’re just jealous that I only have eyes for you.”
“Or they don’t believe it.” Dogma points out, “I’m sure that there are people who are more similar to you in personality than me.”
“Eh, maybe. But I’m not interested in them, I’m interested in you.” You reply.
Dogma sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “You...someday I’m going to actually believe you when you say stuff like that, and then what are you going to do?”
“Plan our date. Well, schedule our date. I already have our first date planned. We’ll get dinner and go for a walk, and then I’ll kiss you on the way home.” You nod once, “It’ll be perfect.”
He blinks at you, surprised.
You flash a crooked smile, “What? Is it really so hard to believe that I only have eyes for you?”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
“Hm, well then.” You muse thoughtfully, “How about this then? I’m in love with you.”
Dogma jolts in surprise, and you smile at him.
“I’m in love with you, and if you’re really not interested then let me know and I’ll leave you alone. But. Until that happens, I’m going to keep pursuing you.”
“...you’re in love with me?” He asks slowly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason? I like you. You make me feel safe when I’m around you. You don’t judge me for being me.” Your grin widens, “I love you.”
Dogma releases a strangled noise and lifts his datapad to hide his face, “You’re impossible.” he complains, though he drops the datapad and flashes a small smile, “I’d like that date, actually.”
“...really?”
“Really.”
You laugh and fling your arms around him, knocking you both over, “Thank you! It’ll be the best date! You’ll see!”
Dogma just laughs and folds his arms around you, “I’m looking forward to it.” He replies, a warm smile on his face, “But I need you to get off of me.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” You scramble off of him and settle on the grass next to him as he sits back up. “What are you reading, anyway?”
“Want me to read to you?”
“Will you?”
“Yeah,” He flips back to the start of the book, “Get comfortable.”
You shift and drop your head to his shoulder, and as soon as you’re settled, he started reading.
And this, really, is all you ever wanted. Who cares if no one else understands. You certainly don’t.
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actual-changeling · 4 months
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There has been a lot of talk about Aziraphale`s smile in the s2ep6 ending (he is planning something, he is going to rebel heaven etc...) That is not a happy, genuine smile. What do you think of it?
Ah, yes. The infamous elevator smile. This will get rather long, so congrats to you anon for getting me to write GO meta.
A (temporary) welcome back to Alex's meta corner version 2: expression interpretation. Buckle up, people, because we're going to be looking at Aziraphale's face for way too long.
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Let's get to it.
People interpret his expression as him being confident or having some kind of plan, but those people are nitpicking frames and ignoring everything they don't want to see.
That smile appears right at the end after his face went through a series of different expressions, so let's have a look at what ACTUALLY happens.
These are in chronological order from left to right:
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There is a LOT happening in each of them, and they show us something we have seen before—Aziraphale's reaction to not getting everything exactly the way he wanted it.
The first row goes from a more or less neutral, slightly upset expression to one of extreme petulance. He's tetchy because Crowley told him where to shove it for once (and rightfully so, Crowley does not deserve to be treated that way) and throws his second temper tantrum of the day.
Pay attention to the fourth one in particular, we have seen this exact facial expression before.
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The one on the left is at the end of their argument about Gabriel in the bookshop, right before Crowley leaves.
This is not someone who possesses even an ounce of emotional maturity, it's someone who is used to getting exactly what he wants at the expense of others and was just told "No" for the first time.
It only gets even better from here (someone save me I need to bleach my eyeballs after this). The last image from the second row provides us with another great opportunity for comparison.
Let's call this one annoyed indignation.
We have moved on from him being purely petulant to begrudging acceptance that he was told "No" and cannot change it. After fucking with the Bentley against Crowley's will (and coercing him into giving it to him in the first place), he is now being told to change it back.
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There are very few boundaries that Aziraphale hasn't trampled over in the last six thousand years, and the Bentley is one that Crowley will not and SHOULD NOT budge on. So he tells him no, change it back.
Aziraphale is being the cranky toddler who got told to stop throwing toys at the other kids but wants to keep doing it anyway—that's what this expression is giving us.
We have reached row 3, and I have two more key expressions I want to talk about.
Firstly, the first picture in that row.
As you might have guessed, we have seen Aziraphale wearing an incredibly similar expression before, and I chose what is (in my opinion) an underrated and very character-defining moment.
We are going all the way back to the first episode of season 1 and their conversation on the bench in St. James's Park.
To refresh your memory, Crowley is currently trying to convince Aziraphale that humanity is worth saving by listing everything Aziraphale himself would lose because he couldn't care less about humanity or earth. He cares about himself and himself only.
Aziraphale tells Crowley that, of course, heaven will win, all demons will be tortured for eternity, and it will "all going to be rather lovely". A direct quote from the script book and the episode, by the way.
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Why does this matter? Because, dear reader(s), just a few minutes prior to him stepping into the elevator, he expressed that exact sentiment again. His opinions has remained unchanged since even before Eden, and his final argument with Crowley did not change it either.
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Hell is bad = hell will lose, heaven is good = heaven will win. And heaven winning will be amazing and great for everyone excluding those that will be tortured forever and ever. Crowley being one of those people is a fact Aziraphale intentionally refuses to acknowledge because doing so would mean having to think about what he's saying to Crowley—and he's not done that ever.
The expression Aziraphale wears in both scenes is condescending arrogance. He not only thinks himself to be better than everyone else, he thinks that, as an angel, he is incapable of doing wrong. That is what he is telling himself in the elevator—you made the right choice, you're an angel, you cannot do wrong, you're on the side of good.
He is egocentric and selfish, and that brings us to the last image of row 3 aka his "smile" in the elevator. This, too, is a smile we have encountered before. Just a few minutes earlier, actually.
This, dear reader(s), is the epitome of Aziraphale's superiority complex and disregard for everyone else.
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Before you start typing up your furious response that will be 50% insults and 50% wishful thinking, hear me out.
I have talked about that "I forgive you" before, you can find it floating around my meta tag (and if you ask me very nicely I might even go find it for you), but allow me to summarize my conclusions.
Throughout the final fifteen (F15), Aziraphale is not entirely aware just how badly his words are harming Crowley. The complete lack of self-reflection and incapability of considering anyone else's world view does that to someone, but at least it's largely accidental.
I would be willing to cut Aziraphale a lot of slack for a number of different reasons that I don't want to get into right now. Emphasis on "would" because then he goes and screws up.
For the first time, Aziraphale is being openly and intentionally cruel with the sole purpose of hurting Crowley.
His face goes through a number of similar expressions, which can you observe here:
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Cruel smile followed by cruel words.
It doesn't matter what he might have meant or what exactly that phrase symbolizes for either of them, because it's clear that
a) they are both familiar with it
b) Aziraphale has used it before
c) it is always harmful towards Crowley
d) it comes with the expectation that Crowley apologizes and takes the blame for everything that went down.
Aziraphale has not once apologized to Crowley for anything in his entire existence.
That smile in the elevator is Aziraphale convincing himself of and/or solidifying existing beliefs, namely that Crowley is in the wrong, Aziraphale is correct and doing the right thing, and that he is still superior to Crowley. It's him convincing himself that hurting Crowley in the way he did was either unavoidable (it wasn't) or justified (it wasn't). It's an open display of arrogant cruelty and undeserved self-confidence.
Aziraphale does not have a plan. This is not a happy smile nor is it related to any future happenings or actions.
This smile is entirely related to the F15 and his argument with Crowley. An argument which mirrors the first one they have over Gabriel, which, shocker, ends with Aziraphale denying any responsibility or wrong-doing and forcing Crowley to apologize and humiliate himself for something that was not his fault. Aziraphale fucked up, not him, but Aziraphale will never voluntarily acknowledge or accept that.
If they meet again before Aziraphale gets a kick up the arse and some character development, he will demand an apology from Crowley, and I am 100% convinced of that. Quote me on that in a few years if you like, but unless he figures his shit out first, he'll blame Crowley for anything and everything he desires.
So, to summarize, what do I think of the elevator smile?
Aziraphale is, for all intents and purposes, throwing a temper tantrum. I think it's an amalgamation of Aziraphale's current emotional and mental status and the lack of character development. First fight, last fight, both end the same way, both end with Aziraphale learning absolutely nothing.
He's not planning, he's not thinking.
He is telling himself that he is right and everyone else is wrong, and that he alone can change heaven for the better. THAT is the Aziraphale we will come back to in the beginning of season 3, and Michael Sheen did a damn good job of showing us all of that in one credits scene.
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