#so i love her very dearly❤️❤️❤️

[bitfruity]

i hope everyone had a good holiday! i wasn’t very active yesterday because it was christmas day here and i was with family. but i wanted to say thank you so much for the wonderful christmas tree messages (i had to download the app later to read them🙄) they really warmed my heart😊💚

i know others have made some lovely posts about this fandom and the community here that are way better than anything i could put into words. but i just wanted to say thank you all because i’ve honestly never interacted with or had the confidence to post much of anything in a fandom before. i’m a very socially anxious person and unfortunately that carries over to online interactions as well so i usually used to just lurk and maybe leave a tag here and there.

but this beautiful frandom has made me come out of my shell more and given me confidence to post my silly thoughts or contribute to the conversation. i’ve even made some internet friends which is something i’ve never done before!

one of the tree deco messages said that they enjoyed reading my tags and that made me really happy because i didn’t used to do that very often and now i feel like i’ve joined in on the fun. i often have insecurities if i’m doing fandom/internet speak right or if my jokes even make sense😅 so it’s really validating to hear that at least one person enjoys my commentary just like how i enjoy so so many of yours💚

anyway before i get too sentimental here are some of the gifts i thought you guys might enjoy

my sister made me this card🤩💚

and she also got me a gengar plushie😈

[starsbits]

bee pickles ORDERED..... he is on his way to me :]

[comfortless]

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

[lxclerc]

𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝟏𝟐

summary… arthur is absolutely obsessed with his girlfriend and everyone needs to know request… yes but its for @coffeehurricanes again faceclaim… olivia rodrigo pairing… arthur leclerc x singer! reader

note… i’m being held hostage and the only ransom is arthur leclerc smaus

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

arthurlovesyn

liked by arthur_leclerc, yourusername and others

arthurlovesyn featuring the most gorgeous girl in the world

view all comments…

user1 if he isn't as obsessed with me as arthur leclerc is with his gf then i don't want it

user2 she's so girlfriend in all of the photos arthur posts 🥹🥹

arthur_leclerc the most beautiful truly!

⤷ user3 arthur commenting on here as if he isn't the one running this fan page lmao

⤷ charles_leclerc mate, you need help

user4 if they ever break up, i don’t believe in love anymore

user5 look at her smile omg 🥹

yourusername baby, you’re right next to me

⤷ arthurlovesyn the world needed to see how gorgeous you are

⤷ user6 thank you for your service, arthur 🫡

arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pascale_leclerc and others

arthur_leclerc she’s everything, i’m just ken but that’s kenough for me

view all comments…

user1 it wasn’t enough that arthur runs a wholeass fan page for y/n. his main account also needs to be a y/n fan account

user2 they mean so very much to me 🥹

pascale_leclerc demande lui quand elle reviendra. elle me manque beaucoup !!! (ask her when she’s coming over again. i miss her dearly!!!)

⤷ yourusername je saute dans un avion tout de suite pour toi, maman leclerc ! (jumping on a plane right now for you, mama leclerc!)

⤷ user3 y/n learning to speak french to be able to communicate with the important people in arthur’s life will never not make me want to cry

yourusername actually you’re everything to me 🤍

⤷ olliebearman you’re making arthur cry again

⤷arthur_leclerc IM NOT CRYING OLLIE

⤷ arthur_leclerc Je t'aime pour toujours, ma belle 🤍

⤷ user4 not ollie coming for arthur’s neck like that 😭

⤷ user6 THEYRE EVERYTHING TO ME

charles_leclerc you two make me nauseous

⤷ lorenzotl they are in love, charles

⤷ arthur_leclerc not that charles would ever know what being in love feels like 🤣

⤷ charles_leclerc 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

⤷ user5 charles fr catching some mad strays in this thread

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc, pascale_leclerc, and others

yourusername i hope i never lose you, i hope it never ends

view all comments…

user1 y/n wanted everyone to know that she is, in fact, as obsessed with arthur as much as arthur is obsessed with her

user2 stargazing!!! in!!! the!!! middle!!! of!!! the!!! highway!!!

arthur_leclerc i’ve been sleeping in a 20 year dark night but now i see daylight 🤍🤍

⤷ user3 he quoted daylight 😭😭😭😭😭😭

⤷ yourusername i love you deeply, my sunshine 🤍

⤷ user4 i’m going to kms

taylorswift ❤️❤️❤️

⤷ yourusername mother 🧎‍♀️

⤷ user5 MOTHER

⤷ user6 when mother approves, you know he’s the one

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband Maegor the Cruel/Yan!Mother-In-Law Visenya Targaryen Headcanons

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Am I obsessed with Visenya Targaryen? Yes I am. Lol, this takes place before he becomes King, except for the ending, so I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes because it's 3 am where I live ❤️.

❝tw: not compatible with canon, mention of death, forced marriage, death, manipulation and usurpation.

❝🐉pairing: yan!maegor the cruel x female!reader and platonic yandere!visenya targaryen.

Your marriage to Maegor was rushed and you didn't have the chance to refuse or say no. Not when the Dowager Queen was the one who chose you to become her son's wife. You were doomed from the beginning.

Everything happened very quickly, you only remember your parents receiving a letter from the Queen ordering you to come to Pentos immediately. Neither your parents nor you have thought much about it. One mistake and soon you were placed in a ship and shipped off to Pentos without knowing the reason.

It was only after your arrival at the Red Keep that you knew what would happen. Your reason for being there. You would become Maegor Targaryen's wife.

You didn't want to marry him, you knew his reputation well but you no longer had a choice. Not when he had taken an interest in you and the Dowager Queen too.

Everything was done quickly. You were bathed, dressed like a doll and during the night, under several looks of pity and fear, you married Maegor, becoming his first and only wife.

It wasn't that bad, you quickly decided. Maegor was a kind husband to you and tried to make you happy. He let you have your freedoms and do what you wanted, as long as you never left the house in Pentos. Visenya was nothing but sweet to you, your mother-in-law was very affectionate and spent a lot of time by her side. You were grateful for that.

He was a decent and even good husband. You had to deal with his jealous outbursts frequently and his often painful touches, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't bad when you slept with him or when he killed a guard by ripping out his heart because he looked at you for too long. It wasn't that bad, you told yourself every day.

When everything seemed too much to handle, you turned to Visenya and she always comforted you. Everything was fine, she said. This is his way of loving you, that everything would be fine in the end. Visenya knew how to manipulate you with sweet and poisoned words.

There were times when you loved your husband, times when Maegor was your caring and loving husband. This happened when you were on your period or more sensitive and he was a completely different person. His touches weren't harsh, his kisses were soft and his body was soft. You loved these moments.

He had always been possessive and you knew that the best thing to do was not provoke him. You knew very well what your husband was capable of doing, you still had nightmares of when he forced you to watch the terrible murder of your guard after he accidentally touched you.

When this happened, you would curl up on the bed when he left the room and call for Visenya. The only one capable of understanding, you thought. She smiled as she sat next to you and stroked your hair, always repeating that everything would be okay. Your heart hurt, but you blindly trusted your mother-in-law.

With tenderness, Maegor presented you with splendid jewelry, but your greatest treasure was the time you spent together, away from the judgmental eyes of the everyone. He protected you, not just with his warrior skills, but with kind words and gestures of affection.

You came to love Maegor in your own way. And he loved you dearly in return. Although you were still afraid of him, you learned to like him. You would always fear him, but you could ignore that. Because you knew Visenya would never let him hurt you, especially when you found out about his pregnancy.

It was Visenya who discovered it. She always had an eye on you and when one of your maids came up to her and whispered in her ears that you hadn't bled in two months, she smiled huge and knew it was time. It was finally time for Maegor to ascend the Iron Throne.

Maegor was delighted when he found out about your pregnancy. Now everything was falling into place. You will always fondly remember his reaction. How he knelt in front of you and placed his head against your belly, smiling widely and you could swear there would be tears in his purple eyes.

Now everything could fall into place. Maegor would have a secure succession and together with Visenya Targaryen, he usurped the Iron Throne and became King of the Seven Kingdoms. You were present, watching as Visenya crowned her son with his father's crown and everyone watched in awe as the new King ascended.

You clutched your belly as if you were protecting your baby. Maegor stood up and walked over to you, taking a crown that he had ordered forged for you and placed it under your head, crowning you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Visenya watched with pride and satisfaction. Everything was coming together.

[danveration]

Heyy <3 it's actually my 20th birthday today 🥺 and sadly my family doesn't really care about that ... could I maybe have a scenario with alastor on his lovers birthday and how he cheers her up because her birthday is kinda a sad day to her? It would mean so much to me :(

hi :) first of all, happy birthday!! i’m so sorry your family doesn’t take the time care about it. 20 is is a big accomplishment:) you should feel very proud of yourself. And of course, I’ll try to whip something up! I hope you enjoy it ❤️❤️

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: It’s your birthday but you’re pretty upset about it. But Alastor is there to comfort you.

You’re sitting on your shared bed with Alastor, trying to not get caught up in all the bad thoughts.

It was your birthday today and you’re not quite fond of them. It was a sad day to you. You weren’t looking forward to today.

You hear light knocking on the door and then Alastor steps in. He looks at you all in the dumps and can’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Dearest?” He asks, leaning on his cane and tilting his head. He is wearing his usual red suit but he has one of those cone birthday hats on, even though Angel and Husk made fun of him all of this morning, he’s still keeping it on for you.

He knows today is your birthday and, as the gentleman he is, planned a whole day is extravagant activities! He had all your favourite foods and desserts in the kitchen. He made them all from scratch for you, knowing you love his cooking.

You look up at him as tears start to form in your eyes.

Alastor’s eyes widen a bit and his heart aches. He rushes over to you and immediately takes you into his arms and holds you.

“What’s the matter, fawn?” He asks in a gentle tone. His radio voice being music to your ears.

“I just..” You hiccup, trying not to sob.

He understands now that birthdays may not be the best for you, and shushes you, holding you tighter.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He pats the back of your head and starts, “I know this day may not be the brightest for you, hm? I understand it may be difficult. But I want you to know something..”

He pulls back and looks at you, putting his hands on your cheeks and smiling. Not an ounce of dis genuine-ness coming from him.

“I am here. I’m not going nowhere, Y/n. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past or what any wretched person made you feel this way about your birthday. Whatever happened, it doesn’t have to be that way, hm?” He says, smiling at you.

You smile at him lightly and nod.

“Now! how about we celebrate this day instead of feeling bad?” He proposes. He gets up quickly and puts his hand out in front of you to take, with his cane in his other hand.

You’re still pretty sad, but Alastor is right. You sniffle and take his hand. Instantly feeling comforted.

“Now, my dear.. I prepared some lovely things for you and planned out our day to a tea! You’ll forget about all the sadness in no time!” He says, happily.

You walk into the kitchen area and gasp. He has made all your comfort foods and favourite foods/drinks that you don’t even remember telling him about. There’s a ribbon that goes across the room that says “Happy Birthday Y/n!” with his handwriting. On the left tables, there’s presents from him and the other residents of the hotel, a stuffed animal deer, and in the middle of the kitchen on the main table, there’s a cake that says happy birthday aswell.

He looks down at you and says, “I hope you like it.”

You immediately hug him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

His heart swells. He hopes he can make this the best day ever for you. And if you feel bad again, he will make sure to comfort you without even blinking an eye. He loves you dearly and he won’t let any silly thing ruin his lovers mood. He’ll be here for you today and every other day to come.

A/N: Also, Alastor wants to say something to you. (Play the video underneath)

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Love Doth Run Smooth

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Princess!Reader

Hello girls, gays and theys I am back with one last fic before the old year ends and the new one starts. Enjoy this short little fluffy and angsty Brienne fic and Happy New Year 🥳🥳❤️❤️

Thank you again for @weemssapphic and other friends for beta reading my silly little fics <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Little Angst, mention of war and wounds, fear of abandonment, fear of loss, taking care of Brienne, lots of fluff.

Authors Note: Brienne comes back home to you after another victorious war. What will you do to make her feel at home?

Words: 1'500+

A03 Link

Taglist

----

You were anxiously waiting, pacing back and forth in your chambers. It had been months since you’d last seen your knight and you missed her dearly. It didn’t sit right with you that she had to go to war. You were worried, scared she wouldn’t make it back, but evidently she IS the best and most skilled knight in all seven kingdoms. Still… war wasn’t something you wanted her in. The knight has fought enough. Her whole life has been a fight. She deserves to relax, to sleep, to rest. 

You knew very well that she first had to go to the king and queen, telling them of the war. You knew you had to wait, but you couldn’t. With trembling hands and a hammering heart, you left your room, against your father’s wishes. Sneaking through the hallways, you made your way to one of the balconies overlooking the great hall, where your eyes immediately fell onto your lover. 

Her short blonde hair was dirty and matted with dried blood. You knew why your parents didn’t want you present. The sight of her bloodied and injured physique made your heart ache. She stood stoic as she recounted the events of the war, how many soldiers they’d lost and how many had been injured beyond saving. But they were victorious. SHE was victorious. She always was. Your knight in shining armour, the strongest woman in all the seven kingdoms. But also the gentlest, the softest and the one deserving of all the love. 

It wasn’t a secret that you were courting the blonde warrior. Your father and mother have blessed your courtship, proud to have such a strong knight defending their lands and, at one point, continuing their reign with their daughter. Seeing her stumble when trying to get up from her kneeling position almost made you gasp out loud. She was injured more than she led on to believe. Your strong love. With quiet but quick feet, you made your way back to your chambers, calling the maids to get the bath ready for your lover.

Gathering some fresh clothing and a soft towel, you suddenly heard the door to your chambers opening and closing again. 

“Y/n?” A low, hoarse and quiet voice called out. You dropped everything you were holding onto the bed and rushed out to fall into your lover's arms.

“Brienne!” You whispered, your arms slung around her neck and nuzzling into her, holding back tears. She had her arms wrapped around your waist tightly and hid her face in the crook of your neck. You missed her, oh you missed her so very much. Pulling away, you looked into her eyes and your heart broke. She had cuts and bruises on her face and she looked tired, but she looked at you with so much love. 

“Oh, my love…” you whispered with a shaky breath and brushed some hair out of her face, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“I am sorry you have to see me like this my Lady…” she said quietly, searching your eyes for any negative emotion but all she saw was concern and love. It made her want to sob. The letters you sent her had kept her on her feet, fighting, fuelled by her love waiting for her. She still held you close against her, almost afraid of letting go. 

“No! No, don't apologise. Let me take care of you. Please. Let me tend to your injuries.” You said quickly, pulling away softly, taking the towels and clothes on the bed and grabbing her hand, gently tugging her towards the great bath. She was about to protest but seeing the determination in your eyes, she just gave you a small nod and a sweet smile. 

The bath water was ready, steaming up the room slightly and the maids had added some scent oils, making the room smell heavenly. You sat Brienne down on a chair and started taking off her armour. You made sure to be careful, as not to hurt her, in case she had any hidden injuries. Brienne tried to help you, but you just grabbed her hand, kissed it and put it back on her lap. Once all the armour was off, you started unlacing her underarmour, carefully peeling it off her body. Your breath hitched, and your brows furrowed in worry as you saw all the bruises and hidden injuries. 

“Oh Brienne…” you whispered out, looking into her eyes and she looked away quickly, ashamed of herself for making you so worried. With a soft hand, you lifted her gaze back to you and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Please don’t feel ashamed of your scars. They're proof you’re still here. With me.” You whispered and stroked her short blonde hair back. She wrapped her strong arms around your waist and held you close, leaning her head against you and burying her nose in the fabric of your dress. The both of you stayed like this for a while, just basking in each other’s presence. After a few minutes, you pulled back gently. 

“Come! Let’s get into the bath!” You whispered as you pulled your dress and undergarments off, holding out a hand for her, which she gladly took. Leading her into the hot water, you were careful to not go too fast and help steady her.

Once in the bath, you sat her down again and moved to grab a washcloth. Dipping it into the water, you started gently cleaning her face, pressing kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her forehead and her lips. Brienne hummed gently, and a small, relaxed smile settled on her lips. After her face was all clean, you moved onto her arms, torso and back, making sure to pepper small kisses over her face as you went on. After her skin seemed to be cleaned from the dirt and blood, you moved on to her hair, grabbing a small bowl and pouring it over her hair as she tipped her head back. With gentle fingers, you washed the blood out of her hair, checking for any head injuries and just finding a dried-up cut. You cleaned it as well as possible and then set the bowl down. 

“Let's get you dressed in something comfortable,” you whispered to her and stroked her cheek lovingly. Brienne grabbed your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it. She didn’t answer but just nodded in agreement.��

Out of the bath, you helped her dry up and get dressed in some comfortable linen trousers and shirt before drying off and getting dressed yourself. When you entered your chambers, the maids had already placed a bowl of fruit, some fresh water and some pastries on the table. You placed Brienne on the bed gently, telling her to lie down and get comfortable. You grabbed the bowl and a glass of water for Brienne. 

“Drink my love.” You said gently, handing the glass to her and watching her drink it all. She looked way better now that all the blood and dirt were washed off, but she still looked exhausted and defeated. Climbing into bed next to her, she immediately turned to snuggle in. Your strong and deadly warrior. Pride and honour spread in your chest, knowing that Brienne only showed her vulnerable side to you, and you promised to protect her no matter what the cost would be. Laying like this, Brienne gently ate fruit from your fingers, and you made sure to be very careful when running your fingers through her soft blonde locks. A hum escaped her lips and she nuzzled her nose into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you”, the blonde whispered quietly. You knew she wasn’t used to this type of care and love, but you were determined to show her just how much she deserved it. 

“There is no need to thank me, Brienne. Everything I do, I do because I love you, because I care, because you are my soulmate,” you whispered softly, so as to not startle the calm moment. 

“I love you,” Brienne sniffled and wrapped her strong and toned arms around your waist, pulling you close. You set the bowl aside and wrapped your arms around her as well, placing gentle kisses on her hairline as you hum sweet praises and words of affirmation to her. Feeling Brienne relax in your arms, was the most wonderful feeling to you. It almost brought you to tears every single time she fell asleep in your arms. Your strong knight. You vowed to protect her heart, even if you’d have to kill. You would keep her heart safe. 

“I love you, Brienne,” you whispered against her and continued rubbing her back and running your fingers through her hair, keeping her safe from nightmares and anything that could keep her awake. You were her safe haven, her love, her everything, and she loved you more than anything. She wanted to marry you, and she wanted to marry you soon. Being a knight, her life was a dangerous and short-lived one. If she dies… when she dies, she wants to die knowing that she belonged to you, and you belonged to her. That your hearts and souls were one and that even in the afterlife you would know that she would be waiting for you. 

You were hers, and she was yours, and no force of nature could change that. Because when she’s with you, Love doth run smooth.

----

Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorius

As always: Comments likes and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

[feyascorner]

Hi! So i got a small idea. Playing durge rn, and i keep hearing the narrator calling durge a “unlovable carcass” and they probably never felt a comforting touch nor reassuring words. So how would Astarion reassure durge? If possible could Tav be a male tiefling?

Have a good night/day❤️

a/n. thank you for the request! I only exclusively play durge so i love this prompt <3 redemption durge and spawn astarion are literally meant for each other and we need to talk about this more. I only write for GN!reader/tav at the moment, so I hope that's not a bother!

Your father has never been the loving type.

As the Lord of Murder, he lived up to his name, and since your very existence, you drowned in the blood of innocents and were expected to revel in such environments. But murder does not have time for love. It consumes you whole, leaving nothing behind but a hollow husk of a person that once was. And during your carnage, it seemed to be the norm.

Seeing Shadowheart reunite with her parents was a different experience than you'd been expecting. They wept, for hours, holding one another as if they'd known each other for decades despite being apart for so long. Her mother had kissed her forehead, holding her close as Shadowheart herself could do nothing but tighten her arms around her.

You wonder how comfort comes so easily to them. Years of nothing but destruction and blood have left you raw, with nobody to provide you with an ounce of their own care but the dead bodies of your victims.

An unlovable carcass. Affection is too foreign to you---too good for you.

"Why do you stick beside me?"

Astarion looks up from his wine glass, the moonlight illuminating one side of his face as he turns to you. "What?"

"I'm a bhaalspawn," you frown. "I nearly killed you once."

"Oh, please, darling, that's nothing to dwell on. We got through it, did we not?"

Your eyes fall onto your hands. "That doesn't change my past."

"You're different, now."

"Am I? Am I not still the same unlovable person whose urges call on them for bloody murder?"

He stills, then sets down his cup, his hand reaching for yours. You let him it, and you find yourself staring into the crimson eyes you've come to love dearly. You only wish yours were lovable in return.

There's a comfortable silence.

"I'm not accustomed to having to console you. It's usually the other way around."

You stifle a laugh, and he inches closer, lacing his fingers with your own.

"You are magnificent. Whether you're fighting battles or drenched in blood, you are one of the few things left in this world that I care for," he says. "I could not care less if you are a bhaalspawn or a bloody crocodile. You may think of yourself as unlovable, but you don't get to make my choices for me. And I, for one, choose to love you."

You're taken aback at first, but you manage to recover quickly enough, squeezing his hand. "Some might think of you as foolish."

"Perhaps. I couldn't care less what they think," he shrugs, leaning back on his palms. "When we do inevitably face your father, regardless of whatever choice you make, I am with you, my love."

The warm fuzzy feeling in your chest is one you're unfamiliar with. It's nothing like the erratic thumping of your heart as your blade plunges into a corpse. It's lifting as if you're floating on water, and if you're being completely honest, it scares you. But as he presses his lips against your forehead, you think it's not so bad.

[multifariousqueer]

Miles cheating fic pt.2

Request: Ok here’s my request and it’s not smut so don’t worry lol.

What if like Yn tried sneaking into Mike’s room with some good news or smth and she catches him doing the deed with another girl so she decides to leave and then he’s blowing up her phone but she cuts him off. Idk just angst angst and more angst lol

A/n: AHHHH ENJOY Y’ALL. I wanted to make this story a bit different so lmk if you like it❤️

Warnings: cheating, toxicity, mentions of alcohol and knives, Miles being annoying, lmk if I missed one

“no” you said simply, running to the kitchen to grab a knife to get Thomas down and to defend yourself against Miles

“Listen, I’m so sorry and I know that doesn’t change anything” he started

“no it doesn’t. Listen, I’m giving you three minutes to get the hell out of my home. What is wrong with you, seriously? Have you been stalking me?” you asked rhetorically because you knew Miles had been

Miles would stalk you all the time, mostly for safety and to make sure you were happy but ever since the breakup, he had been stalking you to see where you would be and to see when he could quietly slip into your life again. When he realized you were 1000% done with him and had a new boyfriend, he realized it was now or never and he was already out on patrol. You had been packing stuff up and getting ready to leave and Miles would quietly watch you through your window and sometimes, when you weren’t home, he would come into your apartment and walk around taking in the very essence of you that he missed so dearly.

You had consumed Miles’ thoughts and dreams and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye, right? Even though he got into your dream school and had every intention of going so he could stalk you more and make sure you were still safe(and available). 

“Hermosa, I love you way more than this guy and I mean, he couldn’t even fight back so what does that tell you about him?” Miles chuckled dryly 

“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE” you shouted, waving your knife at Miles as he walked over to you

“Call them, I’d love to say hi to my dad. And stalking is a bit of a stretch, more like watching you from afar” he said

“that’s stalking cabròn”you said

“I never thought you’d call me that. I gotta say, it hurts” he said, putting a hand on his chest

“What do you want?” you asked, already knowing

“you, mami. I miss you so much and I haven’t been the same since you” Miles confessed

“Where’s your blanca? I thought you were happier with her” you said, tears in your eyes and Miles was hovering above your face

“She wasn’t you and she’ll never be you, y/n. I love you and only you and if I could go back in time and fix it, I would in a heartbeat.” he said

“hm. Well I’ve moved on and I have a boyfriend and I got into (your dream school) so I guess we won’t see each other anyways” you said

“Oh wow! This is a wonderful time to mention that I got in there too!” he smiled brightly, disregarding the boyfriend thing

You wanted to sob right there. Miles was a bit of a better student than you and he could get into your dream school without even trying and that’s what pissed you off. You had to struggle while Miles got off Scott free and still got to be Spider-Man. On top of that, the feeling that you would never get rid of Miles, no matter how much you tried ate away at you in that moment.

“You’re lying” you said, knowing it was true

Miles pulled out the letter and smirked at you

“see you there mami. And as for your cabron, that isn’t going away for another 6 hours, that’s your formula” Miles said, walking past you to your window

You had designed some web fluid for Miles and you weren’t shocked he was still using it, I mean you are a fantastic engineer when it comes to Spider-Man stuff.

You walked over to Thomas and he made a joke:

“I should’ve just went home” you both chuckled

You had hugged your parents goodbye as they left you alone in your dorm. You had dreamed of this moment since you were eleven and now that it was happening, it brought tears to your eyes. You met your roommate and went to greet some of your classmates. 

When Monday came, you sat next to a cool girl and made conversation:

“I love your bag, Marc Jacobs?” you asked

“yeah, your shoes are so cute.” she said

“Thanks. I’m Y/n” you said, holding out your hand

“I’m Mia” she said shaking your hand

You two spoke a bit more before someone interrupted your conversation:

“Is this seat taken?” you immediately recognized the voice and placed it as Miles’

“oh no!” Mia spoke

He put his books down and gave you a smug look. You scoffed and class had started. 

The class was relatively easy since it was one most people were required to take, its just nothing was ever easy when Miles was there. He kept proposing study dates or just hangouts and you always declined but he asked in front of your new friends this time so you couldn’t just say no without them thinking something was wrong. So, you accepted and offered for your other friends to come which they happily accepted. Miles let out a bit of a sigh and gave you an expressionless look but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled

Eventually, he became apart of your group because he was nerdy and cute so people really liked him. He kept trying to get you alone with you to talk but you never allowed it, instead you surrounded yourself with people and made sure to lock your windows. Whenever your roommate questioned it, you would say:

“I don’t want any spiders to get in” 

She would always agree and y’all would go back to doing what you were previously doing

Y’all got invited to a party and you all met up at your dorm. Most of y’all crowding around your sink and doing your makeup while the guys sat on your bed and read some of your books and looked at their phones.

When you emerged from the bathroom in your dress and makeup, Miles gave you a slacked jawed look and his eyes lit up. You walked over to him in your heels and closed his mouth for him before walking out the door

The rest of the girls got ready and y’all left your dorm and took some alcohol with incase it wasn’t good at the party

All eyes appeared on you when you walked in, your girls leading you to the dancefloor where they danced on you and you danced back. You felt a sense of Euphoria and ecstasy as you swayed to the music with a red solo cup in your hand as you smiled. Most of your group split up and it was just you and Mia dancing together. You went to fill your cup when you saw Miles already there

“hey, y/n” he said

“oh hey” you smiled, being friendly and a bit jaded

“you enjoying this?” giving you a “really?” look

“mmm yeah. Well I gotta go, I hear my song” you said, rushing back to the dance floor and twerking on your friend

Miles had a bit of a somber expression until a girl started talking to him and asked him to dance with her. At first, he was gonna reject but he saw how happy you were and he decided to try to make you jealous.

She twerked on Miles and he didn’t know what to do at first until he got in his groove. He still watched you intently until the girl came up and grabbed him before turning around and trying to kiss him. She kissed him and he reciprocated, pretending it was you. 

You saw this from across the room and you decided to have some fun. You walked over to them and whispered in the girl’s ear:

“careful, he might cheat on you” 

Miles decided he had enough and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you outside, you remembered how strong he was and you knew this was gonna leave a bruise

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he asked

“just tryna make sure she dodges a bullet” you smirked, almost laughing

“Are you drunk?” he asked

“no, im just done with your shit” you said before trying to walk away but he cursed at you

“Ven aqui, mami” 

“I’m not your mami, i’m not your hermosa, i’m not yours, miles.” you said, sternly

“Haven’t I apologized enough? Can we just kiss or fuck and make up? I’m sorry, I still love you and I’m willing to do anything to fix us” he pleaded, sensing your sudden sobriety

“There is no more us Miles. I told you from jump that cheating was the one thing I couldn’t forgive. Let me go before someone sees us.” you said

He let you go as you strutted back in the party and went back to dancing, knowing you weren’t going back.

[bebx]

ˏˋ°*♡➷ get to know me ༊*·˚

was tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (x)

rule: name 1 of your favorite movie, character, animal, drink, song, season, book, color, hobby

movie: Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street

character: Henry Creel | One | Vecna

animal: I’m a dog person :) fun fact: that’s me when I was younger in the top right photo with my childhood dog, Kitty. I love and miss her very dearly ❤️

drink: toffee nut crunch latte by Starbucks. it’s a seasonal drink that’s only available around Christmas, but it’s just soooo heavenly good like I’m literally so in love with it

song: This is a Song for Miss Hedy Lamarr by Jeff Beck and Johnny Depp

season: winter

book: Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

color: black, obviously

hobby: writing

no pressure tags: @elsbianism @queereldritch @foodiewithdahoodie @mobius-m-mobius @okilokiwithpurpose @jufferingx @stopitbehaveyourself @jamiebowerserenity @can-of-pringles @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @josephandjamie @josephfakingquinn @ohfallingdisco @depper-than-you @sillylittlerock @deliaqbower @mirilyawrites @harringroveera @trekkitkat @bernajohnny @dudefrommywesterns @reasonkeaton @scarie-carrie @spookyangels @sullxo @nothidd3n @highwarlockofphilly @pinupcitizen @yatzstar @gray-gvf11 @swiftxe @percyjacksonfan3 @themarvelous-mrsmunson @fibyd @angelfairyluna @mrd1101 @the-sky-the-stars-the-sea @crazy-meringue @mojodojoken @hearts-are-connected @ladybower86 @avabower @rye-bread-man @impossible3girl @cookie200812 @strangertimez @shadowsbrainrot @eddie-munson-is-cute @agoraphobia49543 — if I didn’t tag you and you’d like to join, please do! everybody is welcome

[444rockstargf]

I just need the ROUGHEST sex from euro

I’ve been thinking about maybe reader passes out from how vigorously he’s fucking her and after she wakes up he’s still fucking her (cnc) and he’s just very cocky and like man handling her into all of these positions

Just very sadistic rough skull fucking sex ❤️❤️

ask & you shall recieve :))

"he hurt me but it felt like true love." | euronymous

ultraviolence. - lana del rey

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 464

contents: p in v, unprotected sex, torture, pain kink, losing consciousness, cnc

warnings: this fic contains cnc (consenual non-consent), meaning that consent was given prior to their partner performing sexual acts on them. please do not read if uncomfortable! thank you.

your body had completely given up. every time he pounded into you made it feel like a different part of your body was dying. he had one of your legs over his shoulder, your tied-up hands pinned above your head. you were completely helpless, and the only thing you could do was cry.

you were so dizzy that at one point it felt like the entire world was spinning on its axis. you were bruised and sore from how rough he had been with you. throwing you into various positions and marking you up all over. and when he saw your body get so tired that it reached the point of shutting down, he simply smiled and continued torturing your little body.

 when you passed out from it becoming too much for your body to handle, he kissed you deeply, sucking the life out of your soul while also reviving every cell in your body. your eyes were bloodshot from crying for all these hours. you had never gone on this long before. you were in agony, your pussy being fucked completely raw.

he had a cockring around himself so that he could torture you for as long as possible. hearing your pained cries only fueled his desire to fuck you to death. he was so turned on seeing you this way. you truly looked angelic when you were holding on to life so dearly. you were so fucked out of your mind that you even forgot to breath sometimes.

you had gone completely numb in a few places, like your legs and arms. your moans had turned into zombie-like whimpers a long time ago. you were surprised that your body hadn't given up yet, but you knew that you were getting close to that point. you were about to lose consciousness, very much to his pleasure.

he kept on abusing your bruised pussy, the pain becoming somewhat addictive. as much as you wanted him to stop, there was something so fulfilling about this mistreatment. your vision started blurring as your body started getting weaker and weaker, and you felt yourself sinking into the bed. 

you took a breath that you thought was going to be your last as everything went black. and in a flash, you were conscious again and now in a different position. your face was stuffed into your pillow, his hand around your neck as you felt yourself being filled up for what seemed like the millionth time tonight.

he saw that you had woken up. “rise and shine, doll.” he mocked as you cried into the pillow. you knew he had no intention of ever stopping. but you never said the safe word, of even gestured for him to stop. because deep down, this was all you've ever wanted.

author's note: sorry for not posting much today :(( i literally have school in 5 days and its breaking my heart.

[brittscafe]

Heyyy could I have a scenario with Kenpachi and fem reader where she's not as strong or as amazing as Kenny in her eyes (maybe she's even just a human or 4th division?..) & just doesn't feel like she's good enough for him? Like, how he would react hearing that from someone he loves - cause you know Kenny probably thinks the other way around ❤️...Looking for some angst that turns fluffy even nsfw is good too!! 👍

Sorry I wrote a mini novel ask 😅 hope you're doing great!!!

ahhh, I love writing Kenpachi fluff :)

Your significant other was very well known unlike you on the other hand. Kenpachi Zaraki is the captain of the 11th division and good god, was he scary. At least to everyone else...not to you, a loyal member of the 4th division.

There was no doubt that you could handle yourself in a battle, but when it came to Kenpachi, you could be broken like a fragile stick. You wouldn't dare compare his raw strength to yours.

Your gaze stays steady on the ground in front of you. You fiddle with your hands and gulp.

"Hey, y/n, what's up?" Isane's melodic voice springs you out of your mind and you clear your throat. You spin around on the heels of your feet and face her, putting on a weak smile.

"Oh, nothing. Sorry, I was just in my mind for a moment," you clear your throat.

"About what? You know we can talk about anything," Isane steps forward and your breath hitches in your throat. You squeeze your sweaty palms together and let out a tiny breath.

"You know the 11th division always looks down upon us for being so weak," you mumble out, lowering your head with shame.

"Yeah, but Kenpachi wouldn't let them utter a word. At least not about you," Isane shrugs her shoulders.

"They fear him because of how strong he is, Isane. I sometimes wish that I was strong enough for him," your voice wobbles and Isane's eyes widen.

"You heal people, y/n. Kenpachi could never do that," Isane tries to comfort you.

"Yeah, I just wish I was good enough for him," you frown widely and Isane cocks an eyebrow.

"Hey, cheer up. Don't look down on yourself like that, you're strong in your own ways," Isane gently taps your shoulder before leaving the room.

Usually, you were able to feel Kenny's pressure, but you weren't able to and you wished dearly that you could've.

Kenpachi steps out from behind the corner, arms crossed over his chest.

His spiritual pressure smacks you in the chest and you gasp quietly. Your eyes widen and you chew on your bottom lip, turning around and facing him.

"Hi," you mumble out, praying that he didn't hear any of that conversation. You sink down in your figure as Kenny towers over you, a stern expression across his face.

"Hey, if you were a human, I'd still love you," Kenpachi blurts out and your eyes widen.

"You despise humans because they're so weak," you point out and Kenny shrugs his shoulders.

"Not you. What about those fights that you win? Mhm?" he asks and you scoff quietly.

"You let me win those on purpose, Kenny," you mumble out and a grin tugs on his face.

"So? You're strong in your own ways," Kenny comments, placing a finger underneath your chin and lifting up your face. He forces you to gaze into his eyes and your stomach twists into uneasy knots.

"No, I'm not," you shake your head, trying to deny it. Kenpachi lets out a tiny sigh and his facial expression softens.

"I could never heal people the way you do. The way you heal me...amazes me every time. You are absolutely amazing, y/n," Kenpachi speaks softly and your eyes widen.

Kenny leans his head down and presses his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his lower torso and relish in the moment.

"Thank you," you whisper, smiling warmly as you pull away from the sweet kiss.

"And...as for the fights, you definitely win those sometimes," Kenny comments, a smug smirk tugging on his face.

"Come on, you let me win those and you know it," you sigh out in defeat and Kenpachi cocks an eyebrow.

"Oh really? Come on then, let's see what you got," Kenpachi teases you, grabbing onto your thighs and easily lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his torso and giggle quietly.

"Fine, bring it on."

[starlightandfairies]

Ahhh your writing is just perfect! ❤️ I dare for another idea hehe 🫶🏼 just maybe something where you're dating but you get incredibly jealous as Katherine appears back in town and you know of their past. So you think it would be better to step back for a while but Elijah notices immediately and misses you as you not show up at any occurrence. He later finds you at the Grill, talking with the Salvatores about that topic and Elijah eavesdropped the whole conversation, finally realizing what's wrong with you and feeling bad for this to happen, as he only has eyes and feelings towards you. Then one night he invites you over to his house and tells you about his feelings and that you don't have to worry about Katherine as she's long forgotten to him and he proves that to you that night? ☺️ Ugh I love cute and fluffy Elijah !

Description: With Katherine back in town, knowing Elijah's past with Katherine brings some unwanted shades of jealousy to the reader. 

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for both of your lovely requests! I hope you also enjoy this one and thank you as well for your kind words!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, F/fs = favourite flowers

Word Count: 1,279

First Person's POV 

Elijah and I currently sat in my favourite café, it was normally very quiet and once again today was one of those days. Elijah stared at me with admiration, he held my hand softly in his, rested small kisses on my knuckles and whispered words of devotion. 

"I'm just going to run to the bathroom." Elijah nodded, resting another kiss on my hand and finally let me go off to the bathroom, I did what I needed to do and finally came back out. I stopped in my tracks, seeing a brunette talking to Elijah, he looked less than impressed, he looked pissed and I could only assume what that meant. 

"Katherine." I simply stated, choosing to sit beside Elijah instead of across from him, the woman forced a smile to her lips the resting bitch look not fading from her eyes. I could feel this twinge of hurt and jealousy invading my being. Katherine took it upon herself to sit down and join us, Elijah let go of my hand and the once gentle and tender look that decorated his features was long gone. 

"What was your name again...?" 

"Y/n" I answered, hating the way she stared at Elijah, I knew of their past as Elijah had been quite open about his past relationships. Katherine nodded, shrugging and turned her attention to Elijah. I grabbed my things, kissed his cheek and pushed myself up to leave. 

"Bonnie wanted me to do something, I'll see you later." Elijah nodded, staring at me for a moment, I walked out before anything could be said and made my way to Bonnie's house. I asked Bonnie to do a spell, something that would allow me to go under the radar and not be found by Elijah considering that I would be distancing myself from the love of my life to conceal the ugly green monster. 

I had been cancelling dates, vague answers over the phone and would leave quickly with some bullshit excuse if Elijah appeared out of the blue. I could tell he could sense something was, I didn't want to mention that something was wrong and he hadn't questioned my actions. 

Elijah's POV 

Something was wrong with Y/n I couldm't place my finger on what it was, I couldn't understand what had happened and why she decided to almost disappear. I was missing her dearly, I missed seeing her smile, I missed her silly little jokes and her ability to make all my world seem so much better against all the issues going down. I missed her little rambles she would go on, the point is that I miss her and I don't know how to bring her back to me. 

I had finally been able to catch the trail and follow her around, see if I could understand what was going on and it took me to the Grill. I stood near the bar, blending into the ground and proceeded to listen in on her conversation with the Salvatore brothers. 

"I know it's silly of me but I can't help but be jealous." 

"Come on, you know that the noble fossil wouldn't cheat on you." Damon remarked, a clear roll of the eyes that made Y/n whack him lightly. 

"I being serious Damon! I know he has history with Katherine, when he was human he loved Tatia and then he found Katherine. What if her coming back brings back the feelings? I can't stand the idea of him leaving me for her and I don't want that to happen."

"Y/n have you tried speaking with Elijah? You know he'd hear you out and he'll be respectful of what you're going through." I let out a breath, I clenched my eyes shut, hating in myself for not reading the signs. If I knew sooner I would've done everything in my power to reassure Y/n that the only person my heart sings for is her. 

"He's a 1000+ year old vampire, he has more important things than dealing with my petty feelings." 

"Y/n listen here. Elijah worships the ground you walk on, he wouldn't think any less of you for worring about Katherine. We all know what Katherine is like and you have every reason to be worrying about it." Damon's response seemed to freeze her in her place. 

"Thank you..." 

Four nights later, I invited Y/n to come over, I will admit I was surprised when she agreed. We journed to my bedroom, she placed herself on the bed, fiddled with her hands and I took this as an opportunity to shut down the feelings of doubt and jealousy. 

"Y/n the other night, I overheard you speaking to the Salvatores about what's been going on..." She buried her face in her  hands, looking ashamed and worried about what I could possibly say. I sat beside her, took her hand and cupped her face in my other hand to ensure she met my eyes. 

"I understand your worries completely. I understand and I want you to know, that Katherine does not matter to me. She hasn't for 500 years. All I care about is you, no one else matters to me, just you. I love you with all my heart, I love your smile and your little jokes. I love when you leave me a note with a little picture, I worship the ground you walk on and I will go to hell back to prove that I love you as much as I do. I am awfully sorry that you haven't felt as if you could speak to me and I feel awful that this happened. But please, my love... know that I would never ever dream of breaking your heart and leaving you alone. You have my word, I promise you that I won't let the devil of a woman try and break us apart because she is long forgetten." 

She took a few breaths, Y/n moved closer to me, rested a kiss upon my forehead and took a moment before finding the courage to speak. 

"I am sorry, I'm sorry that I didn't come to you, I'm sorry I didn't allow you to know what was going on. It was fair of me to shut you out when you haven't done anything to warrent it. Please forgive me." 

"There's nothing to apologise or forgive for. My love, let me prove to you my undying and everlasting love for you." Her shy little smile brought a smile to my lips, I cupped her face in my hands, bringing her in for a kiss and listened to her hum as I brought her into my arms for an embrace, Y/n took a moment to breathe and whispers softly into my ear. 

"i love you, Elijah. I love you more than you'll ever know." 

"I love you more my love." 

First Person's POV 

Late into the night, we lay in each other's arms, Elijah and I lay naked under the blankets. My headed rest on his chest, he took my hand away lying across him and brought my hand to rest a sweet and longing kiss against my palm. The action was enough to keep my smile stuck on my lips and it was enough for me to snuggle in closer to him with my hand resting in his and his tender eyes continuing to made me feel incredibly loved and devoted to. 

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Luke’s Debut Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

idk the dates they lived in toronto so this is my diy timeline now tysm

this seems moot now but it’s fine

TUESDAY, APRIL 11TH

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 8,643 others

yourusername tonight was a very special night for the hughes family, a family i’m proud to say has become my own. tonight, my favorite little brother, my favorite (for tonight) son, and one of my best friends whom i love so dearly had his nhl debut tonight and i couldn’t be more proud of him!

i remember sitting with you at jack’s draft and telling you, “that’ll be you next!” i sat in the stands during your games back when you were in elementary school and i remember you running straight to me after your team won post losing a few games in a row. you told me that you’d win for me next game i went to; and you did! you ran right past jim and ellen and shouted, “sissy, i told you i’d win for you!” i’m crying writing this out but it was too pure to not share during this moment. you won for me tonight, too, bubs❤️

i’ve seen you annihilate the collegiate hockey world, and now i get to watch you do the same in the nhl. it was a privilege to sit in those stands tonight and watch you take your solo rookie lap, and i hope you know how hard i cried over it. we’ve been waiting for this day since the day i met you all. i was there for quinn’s debut, i was there for jack’s, but being there for yours is a memory that beats them all. maybe it’s because i feel like a proud older sister and i’m younger than the other two, or maybe it’s because of how good our bond is. whatever it is, i will never stop being proud of you. you’re going to be golden, lukey moosey, and i hope you’re excited for it. i love you so much!

p.s. i can’t end without say congratulations to my soulmate! he best a 22 year devils record tonight with his 43rd goal! poetic, isn’t it? i’m proud of you and love you so much, jacky boy <3

with love,

sissy❤️ #RaiseHell

tagged lhughes_06

view all 411 comments

lhughes_06 sissy, you’re going to make me cry! i love you too❤️

yourusername hurry home then and cry with me while we watch quintin!!

lhughes_06 tell your ex husband to get ready faster!

yourusername brb

dylanduke25 you DID make me cry, sissy! so proud of you luke!

yourusername i’ll let the sissy pass because it’s a special day! i miss you, duker!

dylanduke25 i miss you, too!

lhughes_06 thank you, duker!

user6 hughes curse broken…?

_alexturcotte so proud of you lil bro! you are the superior hughes! @/lhughes_06💯💯

yourusername me and ellen are the superior hughes’s but it’s lukey moosey’s night so i’ll let it slide

lhughes_06 thank you, turc! miss you!

lhughes_06 @/yourusername you really are the superior hughes

jackhughes facts

_alexturcotte facts

_quinnhughes facts

user92 the stories in the caption i can’t

jackhughes i am beyond proud of you, lukey! you’re going to do amazing things for the devils and the league! love you! (sissy, please don’t have us all crying on the couch)

lhughes_06 thanks, jacky! love you, too. (you’ve met sissy, right?)

yourusername (reminder that lukey moosey said the same thing to me after his first umich win)

jackhughes (FUCK)

_quinnhughes (i don’t cry, so don’t make me)

lhughes_06 (psa i did tell sissy i’d win for her tonight just like that game)

_quinnhughes (this is fine)

umichhockey that’s our boy!

user77 i’m crying oh my god

edwards.73 @/lhughes_06 we all watched your game together! so proud of you, bro! can’t wait to join you!

yourusername lukey’s debut already killed me don’t remind me of yours! rude head

lhughes_06 thank you, eddy! you’ll love it here!

edwards.73 @/yourusername i’m sorry…?

lhughes_06 @/edwards.73 correct

yourusername @/edwards.73 i accept your apology, child number two

user6 new lore just dropped and it’s a tear jerker😭 so proud of you, luke!

_quinnhughes i remember that game! he was excited for days after. i’m proud of you, lukey! i’ll be hiding in the stands during playoffs! i love you! @/lhughes_06

lhughes_06 i love you, too, quinny

yourusername big brother of the year alert (kinda)

jackhughes @/yourusername you can sleep outside

yourusername @/jackhughes mom would have you sleep outside before me

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes that is true

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes stone cold fact

user22 congratulations luke!

trevorzegras @/lhughes_06 i’m proud of you, bud! congratulations on your debut! go ahead and cry my girlfriend out so she runs out of tears when she comes home!

lhughes_06 thanks, z! and i’ll break out more elementary school me stories for you

trevorzegras thank you for your service🫡

yourusername @/lhughes_06 @/trevorzegras we aren’t friends/dating/siblings/mom and son for the next fifteen minutes

trevorzegras @/lhughes_06 look what you did

lhughes_06 @/trevorzegras LOOK WHAT YOU DID

user38 i might be crying harder than y/n

yourusername you can try, but you will not succeed

nicohischier proud of you, luke! can’t wait to see what you do here!

lhughes_06 thank you!

yourusername nico!!! light of my life!!! welcome to my comment section!!! i love you sm come cuddle!!

nicohischier @/yourusername i love you, too! and okay, sure

jackhughes @/nicohichier careful she clings

jamie.drysdale @/jackhughes when did she start climbing under shirts to cuddle

jackhughes @/jamie.drysdale quinn

_quinnhughes she was scared of storms when she was younger, okay! @/jackhughes @.jamie.drysdale

mackie.samo go little rockstar

lhughes_06 heading for our last fight before our worlds part

yourusername that lyric would’ve been suitable post frozen four semi finals but do your thing baby smurf

lhughes_06 i will thank you

mackie.samo he will thank you

_quinnhughes added this to their story

jackhughes added this to their story

[thequietkid-moonie]

Hai, sweet heart thanks goodness i found your beautiful blog😭 Thank you So much for this. Can i make a request for our beautiful ai hoshino please..🙏 with strong male reader.So, Male readers have a funny, relaxed, understanding, and patient attitude and are sometimes reckless and a little rude to anyone who is bad to Ai Hoshino.romantic please.... However, the male reader is very loyal to Ai because he loves her even though she has twins....so, you could say Aqua and Ruby have considered the male reader as a father figure. It's okay if you ignore my request My dear, I love you .....stay safe and healthy ok🍹🍓❤️

Calm and stronge S/O loves her unconditionally

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Ai Hoshino ]

[ Oshi no Ko ]

Thank for your woooords!!! Makes me happy knowing that you like so much my writing ❤️

You had described the perfect man, like, can I have one of those too? Pretty please?

Also, remember that i only wrote for gender neutral

Ai has a curious way to see the love, for her lies are also a way to show love, puting the brightest and calculated smile along with sweet words, however with you she finds herself truly atracted and with a sincere happiness that slowly grows inside of her

Being an idol means that your relationship has to be a secret and most of the time you two can't be together or has to make excuses of who you are, but you don't really mind and completely understand the situation, you had even expressed how you do understand and support her in her job, you love her unconditionally and you know what you were getting into when you two started dating, and that makes her incredibly happy, this love and support is diferent from the one she recive from her fans, you are someone who knows her more, someone closer to her and yet you still love her as she is, even if you know she still keeps secrets that doesn't stop you from loving her

She will introduce you to their childs only when she knows that she can trust you (what probably won't take much time after you two start dating because she doesn't has much free time), even if she doesn't fully understand she loves her childs dearly she wants only the best for them so she needs to know that you won't mean any harm to them

Ruby and Aqua will be pretty wary of you at first because they love dearly their mother and want to make sure you don't mean any harm to her, it would be easier to Ruby to trust you since she is easy to be trick with your animated and funny behavior, quickly looking at you like a good person and wants to play with you and be a total fangirl of her mother by your side, in the other hand Aqua will be more wary, even when you show to be more calm and yet animated he still reminds wary, although he can't stay like that for too long since he notice that your love for his mother is real and that you actually are protective of her and even start to slowly rely on you (knowing that you would be even better to protect Ai than how they could since they are only kids and Ruby is more childish)

Your protective side are just feed by Ruby's own protectiveness, whenever someone say something bad about Ai you two team up to comment how that person was so wrong and that Ai is way better, although you two normally keep those comments to yourselfs mainly to don't make a mess or get into troubles (although, in social media is more normal to get into usless arguments), although sometimes is Aqua who has to intervene before you two get into a real trouble since Ai find your behavior kinda cute and even funny

Since Ai doesn't has much free time most of the time you'll have to spend time with Ruby and Aqua too, so it won't take much time before all of you start to feel like a true family, for what Ai can't feel happier (and that probably give her more motivation to continue)

[rinstrumental]

ellie gf headcanons pt. 2

# i’m a headcanon machine i cant be stopped… also she is literally a cheesy ass lose girlfriend this part is actually canon confirmed by naughty dog. modern au

if your native language isn’t english/speak any language other than english she is going to think you’re ten times cooler than you already are. best believe she’s hopping on duolingo first thing she gets home too so she can impress you (i know duolingo isn’t the best but she’s TRYING)

she took spanish in high school though

even though she can’t retain the info for shit she will search up terms of endearment in your language and call you them all the time even if you think its corny she can’t stop

whenever someone asks her what her type is she just says “my girl” with the most stupid grin on her face

she fidgets SO much omg she doesn’t wear rings often but when she does (you said they looked nice one time and all of a sudden she’s wearing rings every time you see her) she’s constantly playing with them. she also plays with the strings of her hoodie/loose threads etc.

*playing basketball* “this one’s for you babe” *completely misses*

such a nerd for collectibles!! has been since she was a kid. she has funko pops, vinyls, pokemon cards, snowglobes, plushies, smiskis, calico critters she’s a slave to capitalism

little social media presence. her only instagram account is basically a photo dump which is private with only her closest friends following it. (spoiler alert, most of the pictures are of the two of you)

in the last post i said she’s have a pet gecko but i also strongly believe joel would have a dog. could be a teeny tiny chihuahua or a fucking great dane idk just give my man a good friend! ellie also loves that dog (whatever it is) dearly

doesn’t have any piercings and doesn’t ever consider it unless you say that they’d look good on her… your word is her law FR 😭😭😂😂

okay no she’s not dependent on you to the point of it being toxic though. HOWEVER it’s a bit hard for her to express when she feels upset sometimes and gets jealous easily but she tries her best to communicate and keep it healthy

she has her tattoos though of course. although this is a modern au so she’d have different ones i guess… forearm one is definitely in the cards but also lots of tiny little ones. a few for her friends and family and a few she got in a drunken stupor

pottery lesbian that’s it

gets SOOO red when she’s drunk i dont care what anyone says her alcohol tolerance is average at best

i think she would play a sport sometimes. like volleyball. she plays competitively if she’s in school and she always wants you to come “watch your girlfriend be cool”. bring a sign - she’ll love it

kisses and hugs u after the game while she’s all sweaty too…ew but aw

she also really likes animated movies, not disney but like how to train your dragon and the spiderverse and puss in boots (im projecting). she went to see barbie and oppenheimer on the same day and she didn’t dress up but the spirit was there!!

she’s not a gymbro per se but joel probably would have workout equipment in the basement which ellie uses from time to time. and she’s just naturally lean because she’s an active person. pls tell her how big and strong and sexy and amazing she is

ok fine i think she likes being praised AND SHE DESERVES ITT like she’s such a wonderful girlfriend ❤️ ugh shes perfect I CANT STAND HER

goodnight and good morning texts are part of her routine

sunburns easily so you have to remind her to wear sunscreen all the time

doesn’t really know how to do makeup but she’ll paint your nails for you and do your hair

whenever the two of you spend the night together she’s usually last to get up. this bitch could sleep through the rapture i’m not kidding but it’s okay because it gives you time to admire her pretty face as she sleeps in peace and quiet for once

takes the aux very seriously you guys HAVE to share it. unless you like the same music and i think she would like radiohead, joy division, deftones and loser sad songs like that…. she also is a big fan of the spiderverse soundtrack and kendrick lamar though and thee stallion 😜 (i have two wolves inside me)

please reblog mwah thank you!!