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sinisternymphette · 2 days

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everybody loves my baby

an historical au | 1930's florist!reader x dilfgangster!rafe (minors dni)✶

tw: v!olence, sex

✶ gangster!rafe, who makes sure everyone knows that you're off limits. Whether it is by gently placing his hand on the back of your soft neck and slowly caressing it with his calloused knuckles, using one of his large fingers to softly trail down one of your arms while the both of you are sitting next to each other in a restaurant, putting his muscled arm around you like a mantle, giving you warmth and comfort, and even taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the palm as he closes his eyes and sniffs to take in your scent without the care of what others might think of your intimacy. You were his and he was yours, and that was truly all that mattered.

✶ gangster!rafe, who would do anything to protect you. Literally. If anyone ever laid a hand on his pretty little florist, they'd have to go through him, and it certainly wouldn't end so jolly.

"You dared to touch my woman, hm. Well, not so confident now, are you."

he said in a low, menacing chuckle as he shook his head slowly, cornering the man before him in the lonely and dimly lit corridor behind the bar. He had gone to the washroom for just one minute- one minute without you in his plane on sight, and a man walked over to you and started complimenting you before giving you a rose. That wasn't the problem though. When you thanked him kindly and smelled the rose, he pulled his arm up to brush a strand out of your face. And so, he had to take the matter to his own hands.

"Now now, i'm sure you're a good fella and understand that it was just a minor misunderstanding!"

the man quickly said in a pleading tone, obvious fear in his wide eyes, which were easily comparable to a frightened doe's, before proceeding to pat Rafe's shoulder with one of his shaking hands- almost as if they were old friends. Rafe shook his hand away in a swift motion, as if he had just been touched by a rat who had come out off a trash can. He punched the man on his ribcafe after his fake of a charming smile vanished and turned into a dark frown as if he was no longer who he was before. His other hand reached to the other's mouth as the man made muffled yowls of pain. He, however, didn't even flinch once.

"You're damn lucky i'm a generous man, so make sure to take this as a lesson for the future, yes? to keep your hands to yourself? wouldn't want to cut all your fingers off and make a mess on my shirt."

he then smirked almost playfully, his expression once again changing in a matter of seconds before moving his hand up and shaking it, then putting it inside the pockets of his brown pants and using the other in order to adjust his white, high quality long-sleeved shirt. The man was now practically on the floor, whimpering as he crouched against the stone wall behind him as he shamefully covered his face with his shaking hands. It was truly an embarrassing sight. Once Rafe was finished, he turned his back and opened the back door to the bar, tilting his head to the side and staring at him one last time.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to more important matters- the wonderful evening I was having with her before you, very rudly I might say, abruptly interfered."

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes giving you nicknames that represent your beauty such as 'dollface', 'peach', and his personal favorite, 'dandelion'. You absolutely adore them too- the way they always roll off his tongue so sweetly, like butter being spread on a slice of bread. He's a man who admires and cares for your body, your mind and very being as if you were a princess or a delicate porcelain vase with beautiful painted flowers.

"Look at you, m' pretty dandelion all dolled up for me." he murmurs as he carefully places his head over your shoulder, blue orbs looking into your eyes through the mirror of your bedroom while his hands found your waist and gently nestled around it. His lips were slightly curved upwards, making the hint of his smile shown to you. One of his fingers traced small circles on your waist, making you let out a small and flustered chuckle as you covered your mouth with one of your hands in a polite manner to hide it. You were wearing one of your newer dresses- a pretty light blue polka-dotted dress that perfectly hugged your figure. This, was one of the many dresses Rafe gifted you in the past two weeks. Your lips had red tint and your cheeks had a faint pink color on them- a little bit of makeup, but not too much. His eyes trailed down, all the way to the contour of your legs and to the white leathered heels you were wearing. in his eyes, you truly were a work of art- like a Renaissance painting that had come to life. Now, he was a man that firmly believed that actions spoke more than words, so as soon as his eyes met with yours once again, he planted sweet kisses on your neck alongside little nibbles. This, was his own way of letting you know that you looked absolutely stunning.

✶ gangster!rafe, who, despite having so much blood on his hands, is always careful with you and tries to avoid showing you his darker side as much as he can. Who doesn't want you to know all the sins he has done, all the people he had killed before, in fear of loosing you forever.

''Y'know how much I care about you, right kid?'' he asks after taking a long drag from his cigarette, voice almost a whisper as he's sitting on the sofa of your living room while you laid next to him, head resting on the armrest and legs over his lap while his free hand slowly massages one of your bare feet. He stared at you, blinking slowly. The sudden of a question made you open your once closed eyes and perk your head up to look up at him with an innocent, confused stare. ''Well, certainly. I always have.'' you replied softly, giving him a reassuring smile before it vanished as soon as it appeared. You sensed that something was wrong. After all, why else would he ask this? ''Why do you ask?'' you continued, now scanning the expression on his face, despite the fact that he was a very hard man to read. He swallowed, but maintained eye contact. ''Nothin'. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you all over again.'' He knew he shouldn't lie to you- that he should tell you the truth about where all his money comes from, how his family got as powerful as it is, what kind of person he actually is. But it was too dangerous. Luckily for him, he was a good liar, an actor- if you may call it that. He grabbed the foot he was massaging and placed it near his lips before he kissed each one of your fingers in a slow, sensual manner. This made you relax and soon enough, you were resting once again, breathing calmly as you felt safe in his presence.

✶ gangster!rafe, who tries to stop by the flower shop every single day to say hello. No matter how busy he was, how much trouble he had gotten himself into, what kind of business he was doing that day, he never forgot about you. Ever.

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes to take you back to where the both of you had first met every once in a while. The place, in question, is les deus magots.

✶ gangster!rafe, who might be rough between the sheets, but is as gentle as he can be afterwards and makes your comfort his prime priority.

you let out quiet mews as he pounded into you, you legs wrapped around his hips as your plush breasts jiggled up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Your plump lips remained parted as you felt out of breath, feeling an intense flutter in your tummy that only got stronger as his movements picked up a speed. It felt so good- too good, in fact. You couldn't help but let out some tears that started to run down your cheeks, eyes closed shut as you listened to his grunts. The bed was shaking, making the crackling sound echo through the bedroom.

''There you go, shhh, you're okay.'' he whispers soothingly as he plants a soft kiss on the side of your cheek, both of you laying inside the warm bathtub. There were scented candles on the bathroom countertops, The lights on the pastel green walls turned off in order to enhance the ambiance of the room. Your muscles finally relaxed, and you felt yourself slowly start drifting into sleep while one of Rafe's hands massaged your shoulders. He seems content, blue eyes full of emotion as he looks down at you, hot breath against your neck and tiny droplets of water landing on your back from his wet and messy hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who lets you spend his money on whatever you want, no matter what. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you some cash- no questions asked.

✶ gangster!rafe, who loves the way your eyes brighten up whenever you're at the park and you find a pretty flower. Who later takes it from your little hands and places it on your hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who gifted you a puppy one day as a surprise .

''So, I got you a little something.'' he tells you while he held in front of you a rather large red box with a big white bow around it between his arms. His tone was blunt, his expression the same as always, yet he was lightly tapping his foot against the wooden floor of your home. You were confused, to say the least, But of course- you accepted it, quickly taking it from his hands- perfectly manicured nails gripping it tightly. It was heavy- very heavy. ''Oh! I wonder what it could be!!'' you said almost in a lyrical shriek, excitement in your voice as you sat down on your sofa, legs crossed while you placed it right next to you. Suddenly, it moved, and your widening eyes drifted from the package to Rafe. ''No...no.. gosh, Rafe don't tell me it's what I think it is'' you murmured, placing your hands over your mouth. You were met with silence. Of course he didn't answer. Instead, he just tilted his head, almost as if he was attempting to hide the sly grin that was beginning to form on his lips. Not being able to control your excitement any longer, you carefully opened the box, taking the upper part away and revealing what was inside. You gasped, and your pretty shrieks of happiness filled the room. Rafe Cameron had gifted you a cocker spaniel puppy. A real puppy- not a plushie. ''Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness! oh wow- I have no words!'' you ran up to him and hugged him tightly- maybe a little too much. The puppy trotted towards the both of you and barked happily. ''Glad to be makin' you happy, peach'' he said before gently taking your chin in his hand to make you look up at him before kissing you on the lips.

✶ gangster!rafe, who wouldn't admit it out loud, but sometimes thinks that maybe.. you really are 'the one' for him...

✶ a/n : GUYS GUYS I DID IT!! I know this is a bit short, but tbh.. I might write more about gangster!rafe in the future :) if anyone wants to request something with him you can feel free to do so too. I tried to include a little smut, but eh.. this was my first ever fic (if you could even call this a fic) so it's probably a bit...meh. Either way, I'm glad I finally finished it, and I hope it was enjoyable to read!!

✶ creds : @amariisflossy for the gangster!rafe idea, @dollywons for the second header

@sinisternymphette 2024

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phantomrose96 · 2 days

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Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

“God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the from which portal he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

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sometimesliterate · 2 days

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cat parents | dr. ratio & aventurine

!! polyamory !!

caritas, poker, and snuggle.

anyone could tell who named what cat, and which cat cake was who's favorite.

caritas was veritas' favorite, the name being an old language word meaning ' love ' although he wouldn't really admit to it. he'd told you that the cat's original name - or rather, it's classification, was lambda's friend, with blue skin and black and white filling. but the cat cake had a little gold flower on the side of it's head, too, which reminded him of himself.

caritas loves to chat with the other cat cakes. its the kind of cat that makes friends with other really quickly, so it's always chatting with poker and snuggle about something throughout the day. their conversations can range from anything about how warm the bed is to the best spot in the living room to see the three of their owners dancing together in the kitchen with music while you were trying to make dinner.

ratio absolutely loved to note down their conversations whenever present. it surprised him that such a creature was so articulate, even able to properly express its desires. he'd concluded that the cat cakes had the intelligence of a young toddler with a rudimentary but understandable grasp on language. you and aventurine liked to tease him sometimes for treating the cat cakes as children sometimes, trying to teach them as a parent would, although this was something that ratio would deny wholeheartedly.

" they are an interesting new species. they are ruan mei's creations, and yet she doesn't seem to understand their full potential. i believe it's imperative that we study them and possibly teach them things they otherwise wouldn't know without our interventions, " ratio reasoned, while he was holding the little cat cake, cradling it like it was something precious to him.

poker was aventurine's, the name coming from one of his favorite card games to play, even though he rationalized it by saying that the cat was particularly swatty and liked to cause trouble by batting at things off of the edge of tables. " it likes to poke things until it drops off of the table, so the name poker makes sense, doesn't it ? " yeah, okay aventurine, whatever you say.

poker loved to meow in the dead of night and startle everyone out of sleep in the most inopportune times. ratio has a lecture early in the morning for the intelligentsia guild ? poker is making it's boredom everyone's problem. aventurine has a meeting with the other stonehearts ? oh boy, poker is right there sitting on his face meowing incessantly. if you've got something important to do, well, sorry to say you won't be getting very much sleep that night no matter how early you go to bed. it was bratty, sure, but it was ultimately just an average grey cat cake with nothing special about it, and seemed to have an overwhelming fear of being left alone.

no matter how annoying the cat cake was being that particular night, there was only one way to stop it from meowing. of course, ratio tried to reprimand it and teach it other ways to relieve its boredom at night, but nothing proved effective. you would just try to get it to calm down by playing with it for a little while, but that really only worked until you left it alone, and then it went right back to meowing. aventurine, however, had the magic touch. he would grab the cat cake and bring it into bed, and he would just.. talk to it. in a quiet voice, just chatting about whatever popped up into his head. he'd talk for an hour or more. sometimes it was about sigonia, sometimes it was about his job as a stoneheart. sometimes it was just different gambles and how he ended up winning them.

" so, of course, i had to prove that i was much more than he gave me credit for, " aventurine had been yapping for about an hour now, when he looked down at the cat cake in his arms and realized that it was sound asleep, purring against his chest. " ah, looks like i've done it again. you're welcome, you two. "

" thank you, 'churine, " you mumbled, half asleep as you leaned over to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, your head falling back down to rest on his shoulder, already falling back asleep. ratio didn't say anything, and when aventurine looked over at him, he couldn't help but smile. he'd put ratio asleep while just chatting, too.

snuggle was your trash cake cat, and there was really no deeper meaning behind the name. it was a snuggly cat, and loved attention. loved anyone and everyone who was willing to give it attention. sometimes you would wake up with it resting on your chest, sometimes you would see ratio lazily carrying snuggle around, and other times aventurine was playing with it making it chase a feather around. snuggle was the attention whore of the trio.

snuggle loved to follow you wherever you walked, especially to the bathroom. whether you were getting ready for the day or just trying to spend a few minutes doing human business, you had a pair of eyes watching over your ever move, making sure that you were never far from its sight, almost like it was protective over you. you couldn't help but compare it to your two partners, lord knows how often they were checking up on you in their own ways. ratio wasn't afraid of shooting you a text whenever he had a free moment while you were away to make sure you were okay, and aventurine was constantly on the phone with you through his headpiece.

" snuggle, i'm just going to the bathroom ! it's okay, really- " you gently protested, earning a small mew from the cat cake as it followed behind you into the bathroom, sitting patiently at the doorway, waiting for you to get finished with your business.

" hey, darling, i'm home from work ~ guess who i dragged back home with me after his lecture. " aventurine called out for you almost immediately, followed by the quieter voice of ratio announcing his presence as well.

you rolled your eyes at your partners immediately calling for you, your heart swelling with love for them, washing your hands as you walked out of the bathroom, snuggle hot on your tracks. " welcome back, guys. all of the cat cakes have been taken care of, and i started dinner. "

" thank you, i'm sure dinner will be pleasant as always, " veritas hummed, his briefcase still in his hand as he leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

" what would we do without you ? " aventurine weaseled his way in between you two, mostly because he also wanted to get his after work love from you.

a chatty cat cake with more intelligence that it originally seemed, a cat cake that needed to be calmed down when everyone left it alone with its thoughts, and a protective cat cake that enjoyed attention and making sure that those around it was okay.

maybe these were the perfect cat cakes for you three.

#honkai star rail #dr ratio #hsr fanfic #veritas ratio #honkai sr #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #dr ratio x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine hsr #star rail aventurine #ratiorine #ratiorine x reader #aventurine x ratio x you #polyamory #nonmonogamy

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jacquesthepigeon · 2 days

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I think the merchandise actually hurts the show overall.

You don’t see a lot of merch with shows like gravity falls or Star vs the forces of evil or owl house cause they had stories to tell, even if the plot takes a bit to get going.

MLB reminds me of shows from the 80s, which while beloved by the people who grew up with them, would randomly add new plot points or vehicles or powers just to sell another toy.

I know at some point merchandise was the main way cartoons made money but that might’ve been limited to certain series and time periods as a google search now says it’s mainly from licensing to streaming services so idk how important merch is in actuality

But anyway

It at least looks like they’re adding all sorts of random “power-ups” for the sake of making more toys but when you look at the actual selection available there really isn’t that much variety? We got the whole miracuclass and barely any toys to show for it so what was the point? Why did they subject me to that if they’re not even getting money out of it? Sadistic

#anon #ask

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enwoso · 1 day

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You have somehow managed to make me fall in love with this little universe you created with grumpy and Alessia in such a short amount of time!

Would you be able to write something about when the England squad first found about Alessia having a child and how they handled that on camp and stuff? I feel like there would be quite a lot of protectiveness, especially considering how she's part of the younger group, particulalry from some of the older age groups, like Lucy, Leah, Ellen, Jill, Jordan, Millie ect.

MINI ME — alessia russo x child!reader

*oh my god i love writing this little universe!*

navigation

alessia had never imagined that she'd be a mother at such a young age. she had always dreamt of having a baby at the end of her footballing career while being in a stable relationship, living in a comfortable environment with little to no stress allowing her to enjoy motherhood. the total fairytale fantasy.

however that fairytale fantasy never became a reality as alessia fell pregnant at 20 while in university, after one too many drinks and night with a boy she did trust enough but clearly trusted too much as after she took a test and the two lines displayed on the test telling her she was going to be a mother — he left? he didn't want that type of responsibility at such a young age.

when alessia moved back to england and signed for manchester united she kept you hidden from her teammates worried about what they may say or think, ella being the only one who knew about you. after all she would sometimes look after you when mummy had important adult things to do or pick you up from nursery when mummy couldn’t.

"y/n? where've you gone?" she whisper yelled, looking around the foyer. you were in that toddler stage of hiding at any chance you got, putting your mum on the verge of a heart attack everytime you went out places.

"this isn't the time to play hide a seek lovie!" alessia said, a slight sterner tone in her voice as she looked around for you.

"boo!" you giggled, coming out from your hiding spot from behind the large indoor plants, looking up at your mum a devilish smile on your small face. a pointed look on your mums face as she kneeled down, grabbing your two small hands in hers.

"lovie, what have i told you about hiding, especially when we are in a new place. what if i had of walked away? you would have lost me" alessia reminded you softly as you nodded, your smile that was previously on your face replaced with a pout.

engulfing your mum in a hug, "sorry mummy" you mumbled into her chest as she kissed your forehead.

"i didn't know you had a little sister?" a voice was heard from a distant as alessia handed her passports over to the staff members, getting her room key. the blonde looking around to see who it was before her eyes landed on mille bright, lucy and leah.

alessia could feel her cheeks going redder by the second, as she stood up picking you up with her and placing you on her hip. the blonde beginning to stutter out a a response however you beat her to it with your innocent smile covering you face.

"that my mummy! i no have a sister!" you smiled at the three girls, their eyes almost popping out their head as you spoke. shock consuming them as their jaws hung to the floor.

"oh my god" lucy whispered as she was the first to break the awkward silence. alessia setting you back down on the floor as you were wriggling to be down.

"this is y/n, my daughter" alessia sighed, there being a slight silence as the information was being processed by the three girls head as you walked a little closer to the three girls, leah being the first to react by crouching down to your height. "hi y/n! i'm leah" you smiled nodding at her name looking to the other two girls standing in front of you.

“i’m lucy”

“and i’m millie”

you said a small hi to them as you moved back a little so that you were standing near to your mum, an arm wrapped around her leg. “and how old are you?” leah asked as you hummed thinking as you held up four fingers, “three!”

the girls giggling a little at your confidence, your mummy putting your extra finger down and correcting you, “lovie that’s three”

“ah”

“you play football with my mummy?” you asked, looking at leah but directing your question at all three of the girls. as they nodded all in sync.

“we do and there’s a few more of us too” millie said as you looked back to alessia wondering if she was telling the truth as your mum nodded her head as a little gasp came from you.

“where they?”

“through that long corridor, getting ready for a training session later on” lucy commented pointing to the way before you turned to your mum begging her to let you to go and see everyone else.

your mummy nodding as you grabbed her hand, swinging it a little as you followed the three girls you had just met just moments ago.

“auntie ella!” you yelled as you brushed past lucy and leah as they stood in the doorway, running to get to ella as she looked up from her phone, a smile cracking on her face as her arms opened up for you to run into. faces stopping and watching the interaction with both adoration and confusion.

“hey tiny, you alright!” ella asked as you hugged the girl tight, you hadn’t seen her since the last manchester united game a week ago. your mummy having being busy with getting ready for camp and you being at nursery up until yesterday.

“yep, i met lucy, leah and mille” you proudly said pointing to each girl as they had sat down at a table beginning to talk most likely about boring adult things.

“oh that’s exciting, what about everyone else though?” ella said as you began to shake your head stopping moments later as the midfielder began to twirl the two of you around, giggles escaping from you as she did so. stopping when she got back to her original place.

you looking around the room, a few familiar faces that you had recognised from your mum playing with them in manchester seeing them when you went to games with your grandparents — mary, keets and lotte who you only ever saw if you were down in london. the rest were new people, new people to talk to and share you infectious personality with.

ella took you around each person introducing you to each person with the permission from your mum first of course. the news spreading quickly throughout the camp that you were here and whose daughter you actually were much to many’s surprise.

the day going a lot smoother than alessia could have ever imagined, she had spent the past week thinking over and over about how it was going to go. replaying over and over in her head about how her teammates would react to her having a child.

alessia spent a good part of the afternoon after the introductions were over in the garden of st george’s park explaining her story in depth to those who were most interested; leah, keira, beth, lucy, mille, rachel and ella.

“that must have been so scary, you were so young.” beth whsipers still loud enough for everyone to hear, the girls all so intrigued but also immensely proud of alessia for her whole journey since you had arrived in her life.

as alessia told her story from the start, how she found out she was pregnant to how she came back to football.

“it was, but she’s my reason now. everything i do is for her future” alessia said simply a couple of the girls humming.

“if you ever need anything and i mean anything even if it’s just for someone to talk to, don’t be scared to ask any of us. we’ll always be here for you less” leah said softly but you could hear the protectiveness in her voice, alessia nodding taking in the support of her teammates which had grown to be her family as her eyes trailed over to where you were, the other girls following where the blondes eyes were looking.

“she’s literally a mini you” beth commented the rest of the girls agreeing as they began to list the similarities between you and your mum. as alessia smiled looking at you kicking a football with jordan and georgia

“i know, my mum says all the times that’s she’s a copy and paste of me from when i was little - only difference is she’s a bit more chatty than i was” alessia pointed out, hearing you talk away to jordan about the flowers growing in the ground, as the midfielder picked the ball from around them.

“but i think she gets that from her auntie ella!” alessia grinned looking towards her best friend who threw her hands up in shock.

“hey!”

“mummy! mummy!” you yelled out, the blondes head turning from her conversation towards you as jordan passed the ball to you. “watch this!” you added as toy had the ball at your feet and began to juggle with it from foot to foot.

alessia watched on grinning, as jordan counted the amount you got as georgia cheered you on. a small buzz of excitement coming from you as the ball dropped from your control as you ran over to your mum.

“lovie, that was awesome!” mummy cheered, as she held her hand up for you high five. the other girls saying there well dones. alessia watching as you smile got bigger and bigger with each seconds.

the way you had bonded with the team in hours warmed alessia’s heart to no end. knowing that these girls were going to now be apart of your life forever. her two worlds had joined and she couldn’t even to describe how much she loved it.

“any chance we can borrow her when we play on tuesday!” jordan joked as she and georgia came over slotting in on the seats with the other girls as they laughed but agreeing. as they all fell into a deep conversation.

you climbing up onto your mummy’s lap, as her arms wrapped around your front. a yawn escaping from your lips as you slumped back into your mummy’s chest playing with the rings on her fingers.

liked by keirawalsh and 612,540 others

alessia new day, new faces🩷

comments -

bethmead dibs on being best auntie!

1h 140 likes reply

-> leahwilliamson no i am

-> georgiastanway no it’s me

-> lucybronze come on guys i obviously win!

-> ellatoone it’s quite clearly me!

-> millebright you all wrong it’s me.

-> maryearps it’s me

-> keirawalsh no me

-> racheldaly its obviously me!

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cinnamon-girl-writes · 3 days

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what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh . . . bsd x reader

tattoos the bsd men have ! feat. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai, kunikida, akutagawa, atsushi

~ fluff, headcanons, dubious grammar

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

osamu dazai ~ collarbone

arguably the sluttiest bsd character, i can totally see dazai having a collarbone tattoo

ALWAYS showing that shit off, like opening the top couple buttons of his white shirt so you can see it *drools excessively*

i don’t think he’d ever get anything with personal significance to him because of the loss trauma he already has

that being said, i think *over time* in y’all’s relationship it starts to gain significance to him

i.e., you always kissing that spot <33

slowly, something with limited meaning that was only meant for aethetic reasons becomes something that makes him think of you every time he sees it

ngl, this scares him a little bit since he’s so used to being left

so you gotta stay for him and let him know it’s gonna be okay <333

that being said, the primary reason he got it was to like the way his body looks again (assuming it’s damaged/scarred under the bandages or he’s just insecure)

so the ink PLUS your affections- he’s so happy <33

chuuya nakahara ~ pelvis

oh lord

i’m sorry he’s just so— ESDRUTFYIGUBLVICU

^ me thinking about chuuya with tattoos. anyways

because of his job in the port mafia i don’t think he’d have anything that’s visible in his normal clothes

but this way it would be EXTRA secret and only for your eyes !!!

chuuya would have a tattoo on his pelvis of your name

some couples have tattoos in eachother’s handwriting, but chuuya is a man of refined taste, so he gets it done in an elegant cursive font (not to offend your handwriting, but it is permantly on *his* body after all)

needless to say, you give it lots of attention in general, kisses and gentle touches

but also during *stuff*

he’s so obsessed with you, PLEASE get matching tatts with him

omggg i can see your matching tattoo being in a roman style all-caps font

whether it’s his name or an important date, he doesn’t mind, just the thought that you dedicated something to him gives him butterlies <33

fyodor dostoyevsky ~ sternum

soooo

this crazy religious man/anemic rat would most likely not get tattoos

whether that was due to his religious practices or just his personal preferences i don’t see him ever wanting tattoos at all

BUT we’re gonna ignore that for this

in this case, i think he’d get a cross tattoo down his sternum

something detailed and intricate, and since he’s russian it would most likely me the orthodox cross

MAYBE if you’re extra special *coughs* useful to him *coughs* he’ll get your initials somewhere & very small (just to manipulate you into trusting him more)(okay sorry i’ll stop-)

nikolai gogol ~ thigh

i know we always talk about this man’s thick thighs but like. LETS TALK SOME MORE

ANYWAYS, i can see him getting something really ornate like flowers or fish or something

i think once you’ve been together for a while he’d get something dedicated to you like your name or your initials

i can totally see him getting it in your handwriting (even if it’s messy, you apologize but he doesnt care <3)

STOP CAUSE HE’D TOTALLY GET SOMETHING DEDICATED TO YOU AND ‘FORGET’ TO TELL YOU-

like y’all would be doing *stuff* or just like hanging out or whatever and you’d see it and be like……baby what is this

and he’ll be like ‘oh yeah i got that a few months ago!’ BITCH??!??!?!?!?

anyways ten minutes later you’re tearing up (after berating him) cause he’s just so <333

bonus crack note: i feel like he’d get something so stupid like a meme or wtv and you’re just like. babe you know this is permanant right. and he’s like yeah i know.

doppo kunikida ~ forearm

drooling at the thought of kunikida with tattoosssss

ageyrdfvjeaiofghrufjn

he would get it on his forearm so he could always see it himself, and it wouldn’t matter about his work uniform because he always wears long sleeves in public anyways

i think he would get something like a picture, and kinda detailed

maybe like a cherry blossom or some fishies or something :))

AND he’d have your name tied into the design somehow in like a really intricate way

long story short, it took a long time for you to convince this guy to get a tattoo since he’s so obsessed with his ideals (getting permanant ink etched into his skin is NOT in his notebook)

BUT after careful deliberation the two of y’all planned out matching tattoos

they’re not totally identical & they both reflect y’all’s styles and stuff, but you have eachothers names/important dates in there <3

sigma ~ nape

i feel like sigma (canonically?) doesn't really feel 'human', and he's not sure what getting a tattoo would be like for his body

idk i feel like he wouldn't really 'get' the point of tattoos and kind of question it

anyways, assuming he's working at the casino, he would want something that would be easy to conceal every day

AND he has beautiful luscious hair.....

which leads me to a nape tattoo (i actually didn't know what this was called until today cause i had to google it,.... but basically it's the back of your neck)

would DEFINETELY get something super meaningful, like a symbol to him or something

he would absolutely tie your initials into it too

overall just. 10/10 he's so gorgeous

ryuunoske akutagawa ~ chest

another one i don’t really think would be into tattoos

similar to dazai, i feel like he’s too insecure/subconcious about his body or just doesn’t care about his looks that much

however, after you convince him to get a tattoo on his chest (he vaguely mentioned they looked cool and then you encouraged him) he gains some confidence!!!

i think it would probably be something that looks badass, like a snake or uhhhh something

i don’t think the actual symbol will have much meaning to him, but it’s what you make of it <3

he loves it when you lay your head on his chest (not quite cuddling fully because i don’t think he’d like physical contact that much) and you leave gentle kisses on it <33

tldr: you help him heal.

atsushi nakajima ~ hand

LAST BUT NOT LEAST OKAY!!!!!

idk something about his vibes and that haircut gives me hand tatt vibes <33

he would DEFINTELY get something that had significance to him & likely something related to you

this boy would absolutely get something with your name, screw that he’d get a whole biography of your entire life tattooed on his entire body in fluttery cursive font

this boy is W H I P P E D for you like. it’s bad

i also feel like he’d get colored ink instead of just black

anyways, kiss his hands and tell him he’s pretty <33

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

part 2 anyone????? also i'll do full fics/drabbles of these if anyone wants (SEND ME REQUESTS PLSSSSS ANYTHING)

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my-castles-crumbling · 3 days

Text

Begging

Anonymous request for Jegulus thigh riding?

NSFW/Explicit! Minors DNI

"Jamie?" Regulus murmured, knowing it would immediately get the other man's attention.

Predictably, James's head snapped up from his papers. "What's up, love?"

"I need you."

It was true. The aching need had been growing in the base of his spine since that morning. He'd tried to be good; to ignore it. James was working on such an important report for his job, and Regulus wanted to support him.

But he also wanted him.

"Fuck, baby," James whispered, looking into Regulus's lust-blown eyes. "I- you know I have to work."

"Alright," Regulus muttered, already planning for this answer. "Work."

But even as James glanced to the stacks of papers on his desk, Regulus walked toward him and lightly swing himself over James's knee, sinking down on his thigh slowly, moaning lightly at the friction.

"Reg!" James exclaimed, almost upending his ink bottle.

"I can take care of myself," Regulus grinned, and began to move, dragging himself forward and back on James's thigh.

The air thickened along with Regulus's cock, and he felt James's breathing become irregular as he moved. "James," he whispered, allowing his head to fall on James's shoulder, again grinding down on the thick thigh below him, jolts of pleasure shooting through his body.

"Fuck, baby. It's not fair how beautiful you are," James murmured, completely forgoing his work and grabbing onto Regulus's hips.

Allowing James to take a bit of control, Regulus mewled softly, legs slowly turning to jelly as the pleasure built.

"After I finish this report, I am going to fuck you so hard, love," James continued, pushing his leg up as he talked.

"Please," Regulus whined, the word falling from his lips, dignity long gone.

"Oh, yes," James nodded, his face serious. "You'll be begging for me. But right now, you're going to come, so I can finish this. Then I'll finish with you."

Nodding desperately, Regulus completely let go, allowing James to guide his hips and grind his thigh up, wanton sounds leaving his lips like prayers as he began to whisper James's name over and over.

It took a shockingly short amount of time for him to explode, the pleasure in his stomach building until it was blinding. But maybe it was because James was whispering such delicious things in his ear: "Yes, baby. Can't wait to fill you with my cock. You look so beautiful like this. Saying my name. You're mine. Mine. Always mine, darling."

"Yours," he moaned, vision whiting out, spilling all over himself, gripping James's shoulders for dear life.

But as he began to calm, his panting slowing, he heard James whisper, "Go clean yourself up, love. And meet me in our room in an hour."

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crazy4nika · 2 days

Text

just enough

warnings: nightmares and paige being annoying but thats lowkey it this ones kinda cute

request: hi!!! i loved you nika headcannons. would you be open to writing about her? i rlly feel like you’re hc abt her match up so well

nika mühl x reader

the warmth of my blankets encompassed me in, the weight of the soft fabric holding me down. i don’t really know how i was still awake, considering it was almost 1 a.m.

its not like i was staying awake, i was actually trying to sleep.

my room was small, but comfy. the only light was a streetlight gleaming through the window. it had one bed, a nightstand and, a dresser. a uconn ncaa banner was pitched above the bed. my dorm-room was surprisingly quiet, the only sound being a small floor fans whirring.

the silence was interrupted was a quiet jingle from the door handle. the metal clicked and the door creaked open, and a tall brunette girl poked her head in. “hey niks. couldn’t sleep again?”

“how’d you know?” she spoke sarcastically, shrugging while she walked in. the door closed quietly behind her. sometimes when nika can’t sleep, she finds her way into my room. after what was probably the 20th time this happened, i gave her an extra key so i didn’t have to get up to let her in.

i scooted closer to the wall to make space as she stumbled her way over. nika lifted the covers up and slipped under them, instantly moving closer to me. she gave me a quick smile before rolling over, facing away. “thanks. for you know. this?”

“yeah… i don’t mind,” i traced little shapes on her back while we talked. i drew a dog and a house and two girl standing outside of it before she moved. nika sunk further into the bed, “i was kind of worried you would.”

“why would it bother me? its really nice when you’re here.” she giggled before turning back towards me, making eye contact in the dark. “do you really think i would give you a key if it bothered me?”

she had really nice eyes, and they were looking right in mine. and the way she talked was so perfect, “i guess i never thought about it that way.” she blinked and it broke me out if my trance, but i was pulled back in the second i could see them again. the chocolate brown swirled around, darker on the inside and lighter on the outside. it had such a sweet look to it and the colour highlighted her face.

nika sighed and then we just layed there in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. nothing needed to be said. the presence of each other being there was just enough.

but i had to break it. i don’t really know why. “are you sure your doing okay?”

she seemed taken aback, her eyes loosing the happiness they had seconds prior to my words. “i- why wouldn’t i be?” she was laying so close to me that i could feel her breath shaking while she spoke, a nervousness coating her expressions.

“niks, i’m just worried about your sleep and stuff. you come in here saying that you cant sleep more often then not,” she pulled the covers slightly closer, twisting the edge lightly with her fingers. “and theres nothing wrong with you coming in here, but is something keeping you up at night?”

“its not like its important or anything.”

“yes it is.”

even though she was laying down she still crossed her arms and gave me a you should be quiet look. “why?”

“because your important. and i care.” a strand of hair fell in front of her face and she blew at it to try and get rid of it, but it kept ended up right back in her face. frustration grew over her face. after she started mumbling swears at it, i tucked it behind her ear.

“why do you care?” she spat, calmness buried underneath her mean tone.

“i don’t know, why are you interrogating me now?”

“you know i didn’t come here for a heart to heart. i came here to sleep.”

“i guess we don’t always get what we want.”

she took in a deep breath, “i’ve been have these nightmares, where i cant do anything right. and coach gets mad at me, then the rest of the team follows,”

“and nobody will talk to me, because i keep messing the plays up. not even you will talk to me.”

“and it gets to the point where nobody will look at me, because they’re ashamed for me. or at me, i’m not really sure. and in the end, i just stop loving basketball.” her voice cracks with those last words and it breaks my heart. and as the tears she was holding back slowly make their way over her waterline and onto her face, i pull her into a hug.

her voice was all squeaky and wobbly, “i just don’t want to be a failure.” nikas face was pressed against my chest, a wet spot appearing on my t-shirt.

“no. look at me,”

nika peered up at me, eyes still glossy with tears. “you are not a failure. you never will be, okay? we all love you so much. i love you so much.”

“yeah.” she sniffled out. my hand held her head close the myself, playing with her hair. my other hand scratched her back, trailing under her shirt slightly.

she wiped her tears with her sleeve before cuddling back in, “your a good friend.” she mumbled into the crook of my neck, her lips brushing lightly over my skin as she spoke.

she was still there when i woke up, snoring lightly. her leg was thrown over me and her arms were still wrapped around my waist. nika was practically a koala, but i didn’t mind.

i was just glad she was there.

most if the time when she came in the night, we wouldn’t talk at all and she would be gone by the time i was awake. usually i was asleep when she got there too. sometimes i didn’t even know she was in my room until she mentions it sometime during the day.

i trusted her, entirely.

it didn’t matter to me if she came in and out throughout the night and the morning.

after awhile, we just stopped talking about it. if she was there, then cool. we didn’t need to have a conversation about why.

im not sure what was different about last night and this morning. but i liked it. i liked talking to her, and i liked having her with me.

she was a cute sleeper too. her messy hair still looked perfect. i could just lay there forever, it was peaceful. but we weren’t going to, because nika woke up. she yawned and stretched her arms up, nudging me in the face with one. “g’morning.”

she peeled herself off of me, smiling up. “good morning. whats the time?”

i shrugged, “i dunno.”

nika got out of the bed, grabbing my hands and pulling me up with her. she didn’t let go when she started to talk, “hey, I’m sorry about last night.”

i smiled at her, it was more of a sad smile though. my thumb traced over her hand, “don’t be. everybody needs somebody.”

she squeezed both of my hands before pulling me into a hug, pressing a quick kiss to the side of my head. “no, i- you said you loved me, and i didn’t say it back. so i’m sorry about that.”

“its fine.”

she spoke quietly, almost like a whisper, “i do love you too, by the way.” she smiled.

i held her face in my hands, “good.” i pressed a light kiss to her chin. “you better love me.”

god, her smile was perfect too. she giggled and smiled again. “ill see you at practice?”

“three hours mühl. trust me, ill be there.” she pulled me into a hug, patting my back.

she pulled away, heading towards the door. “bye bye!”

i walked into practice with my bag slung over my shoulder, barely awake.

i had fallen asleep again after nika had left, only waking up because paige barged into my room, woke me up by scaring me, then still made fun of my scream.

then she forced me to make her waffles, then complained that i had no butter. like…?

i held my head in my hands, rubbing my temples. “p be quiet, for one second please?”

“but-”

“paige. shh.” i took a sip of water and began walking towards the court, not realizing she was multiple steps behind me. at that point, it was too late.

she ran at me and jumped onto my back which sent up both onto the floor, laughing hysterically. i was curled into a ball holding my stomach because it was so funny it hurt. “paige, why?” i laughed out, hitting her over the head for payback.

“oh you did not”

she shot onto her feet and grabbed me, hoisting me onto my feet. i wiggled out of her grip and started to run away, laughing at her as she chased after.

i ran into a brunette girl, grabbing her shoulders in putting her between me and paige. “help! nika, help me please.”

“what did you do?”

i wheezed as i spoke because i was out if breath. “i-”

the blonde girl cut me off, “she hit me.”

“you practically tackled me!”

paige smirked before running around nika towards me, hitting me over the head. she laughed as she ran away, “paige! i’m done.” i spoke as i lied on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

nika leaned above me, shaking her head while smiling, “get up,” she spoke, dragging out her words.

i groaned and rolled over onto my stomach, ignoring her.

her hands wrapped around my waist, trying to pull me onto my feet. “put me down. its colder on the floor.”

“no.”

once my feet were on the ground, i turned around to face her. i didn’t realize how close she was, because our faces were an inch apart. “not so bad up here, huh?”

“its horrible. i’m getting water.”

she snickered as i walked away, finding paige again. i walked over to the benches, grabbing my water from my bag.

“hm. look what the cat dragged in”

i turned to face the girl, “paige. what?” i sighed, “what are you talking about?”

“nevermind. i have a question.” the blonde sat down next to me, leaning to whisper into my ear, “what up with you and niks?”

“nothing! what?”

“you know what i mean,” she wiggled her eyebrows at me, “i mean she totally likes you.”

“first of all, shes just my friend and my teammate. second of all, this is very random.”

she stood up, putting her hands on her hips. “it would be cute.”

“i guess.”

paige made an explosion sound and motion with her hands. “so you admit to it?”

“fine, yes. shes cute.” the blonde pulled me into a hug and swayed back and forth. “ill make it happen.”

im shutting this idea down. “no, p. your doing nothing.”

“but-” i held a single finger to her lips, silencing her, “shhh.”

“please just let me! trust me it will go perfect.”

i closed my water bottle, placing it down next to me. i went to answer her but coach walked in, the rest of the ream following behind. “alright. lets get started! running laps! go!”

i was so sore. my legs felt like jello and everything hurt. i was laying on my bed on my stomach, scrolling on my phone. it was quiet, until nika came to my dorm again. she normally never came twice in a row, but i didn’t mind. “hey. whats up?”

“i need to talk to you.”

she was fiddling with her fingers and sweatshirts sleeves, a nervous expression pasted over her face. “i was talking to paige after practice today, and i-, uhm.”

“oh god.” i pulled my knees to my chest while sitting up in bed. breaking my eye contact with nika.

she closed the door and sat down in the beanbag chair in the corner of my room. “is it true?”

“yes,” i think i might kill paige. “niks, i don’t want things to to be weird.”

she stood up from the beanbag chair on the floor and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to me. “it wont be.”

“why, i thi-” i never got to finish my sentence.

nika grabbed the side of my face and placed her lips on mine, smiling into it. my hands made their way to her neck before she pulled away. “thats why.”

#wlw #wnba #nika mühl #uconn wbb #nika muhl x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 days

Note

How does each of the main aeiwam cast react to spiders?

Ichigo: "...Why's my leg itchyyYEAUGH! DAMMIT!" *scoops spider up in piece of paper, opens window and throws it out* "OUTSIDE! SHOO! I hate it when they sneak up and on me...

Orihime: Had an intense close personal friendship with a Joro Spider that had made it's web on her apartment balcony when she was six. It's death at the end of summer was her first real experience with mortal loss, and she mourned it for weeks. She still recalls "Joro-San" fondly.

Uryuu: Secretly dreams of Spiders large enough to spin actual ropes of silk- the stuff is a marvel of chemical engineering, and would be incredibly useful to him as a Doctor or Fashion Designer. He feels like the difficulty of harvesting Spidersilk is the main thing holding back a Golden age of Humanity, and is disturbed to find out he shares ANY opinion with Mayuri Kurotsuichi.

Tatsuki: Paralyticly Phobic of spiders. Understands and appreciates their importance in the ecosystem, knows they can't hurt her and that the phobia is an irrational reflex, and even thinks some of them 'look cool as hell'. The second there's a live one in her presence, she locks up and can't move until someone removes it. (Usually Ichigo, because Orihime will just stare at it, fascinated).

Chad: Has a Pet Kitchen Spider. thought about shooing flies in it's direction, then felt bad for the flies.

Kon: Is a cat, hunts them, and will have nuanced discussions about how different spiders taste with Yuzu, the one person who will tolerate that analysis.

Keigo: Screams theatrically and jumps away and into someone's arms if they're there, but that's just how he reacts to anything that startles him.

Mizuiro: Fascinated by them, will stare at them with Orihime and tell her fun facts about Joro-Gumo Yokai and other lore, which delights her to no end.

Yoruichi: Like Kon, enjoys toying with them before eating them.

Urahara: Curled into the farthest corner, screaming, crying, throwing up, and begging Yoruichi to STOP FUCKING AROUND AND GET RID OF IT!

Rukia: *entirely genuine, with a huge spider crawling on top of her hair* "...what Spider?"

(Seireitei Squad Under The Cut)

Yamamoto: Utterly fails to notice or care. There are so many things he's seen that are so much worse, and honestly? Even when he was a young man he didn't give a shit. He slept rough delivering messages, waking up in the dirt with half a dozen bugs on him was normal.

Sasakibe: Thinks they're delightful. So many elegant designs! Such perfect sense of when to strike! Such patience! He finds out about Diving Spiders and goes Ape Shit. THEY MAKE THEIR ON SCUBA TANKS!!

Soi Fon: Spiders are cool but not as cool as wasps and hornets :)

Omaeda: Also has a Pet Kitchen Spider, but does not feel bad about shooing flies into it's web at all.

Gin: Isn't actually sure what spiders are, or if they're even real. He's seeing sixteen dimensions at once, something that minuscule gets lost in the noise. Still thinks that someone Screaming "SPIDER!" and everyone flailing around in fear or suddenly attacking the walls and furniture is a social game like "The Floor Is Lava"

Rose: Thinks they're cool right up until they're in his personal space and then they are VERY SCARY.

Izuru: Was the designated spider-wrangler for the third from the first day he transferred in, because everyone else is a huge bitch about them. he plays it cool, but he's actually creeped out by the really big ones.

Unohana: Spiders are garden Friends :) often heard verbally encouraging them to destroy her garden pests with calls of "GET HIS ASS!" coming from the Hydrangeas.

Isane: Everyone is sort of surprised how chill Isane is about dealing with spiders- even Yamada's Actually Dangerous Specimens- and she shrugs and tells them that she deals with more dangerous things every day, especially over in Pharmacology. It keeps the focus off the Bug she's actually terrified of: Butterflies.

Hanataro: Do Not Ask The Head Of Toxicology And 11th Division Pocket Medic About Spiders Unless You Are Prepared For A Seven-Hour Lecture With A Pop Quiz At The End.

Aizen: HUGE fan of Spiders. What splendid creatures- look at how carefully the spider selects the anchor points of it's web, the skillfulness with which it weaves. Such incredible patience, waiting for the lines of tension it's woven to snare it's game- though I suppose such patience is easier when the fly's capture is inevitable >:)

Shinji and Hiyori: *Screaming and flailing, hitting things at random (mostly each other) in a blind panic, because they share a braincell and that cell is TERRIFIED of spiders* "It's so fast!" "It was huge! It had to be a tarantula!" "We should burn the division down, just to be sure."

Momo: Escorted the little garden spider outside in a cup like ten minutes ago, and forgot about it because that's such a routine chore, and she was having a more important phone call at the time.

Byakuya: Rarely notices spiders, but sometimes one will scuttle across his desk and he'll stop to watch it for the seven minutes it takes to actually cross his desk with a neutral expression, before resuming whatever he was doing. It's a pleasant diversion for him, not unlike watching the koi fish swim around in the compound pond, and he resumes his duties feeling spiritually refreshed by that chance encounter with nature.

Renji: Not bothered by Spiders. VERY Bothered by his Boss's fucking peculiar-ass reaction to a spider wandering across his desk because to Renji, it looked like Byakuya had never actually seen a spider before and was staring at it with an expression that indicated his higher brain functions had ceased entirely. Is currently making plans to study "The Captain Kuchiki Spider Brain Glitch" by catching a bunch of spiders in a jar and releasing them into his office to see what happens.

Komamura: He's particularly fond of Jumping spiders, because they sing little songs while hunting that he can hear if it's really quiet. They're very cute. Gets very upset when people kill spiders or talk about killing them.

Iba: Not afraid of spiders but doesn't know what to do when they're in his way. Killed one in front of Komamura once when he was a little kid and Komamura was still his babysitter, Sajin gave him a huge and very upset lecture about respecting life in all it's forms... but did not actually teach Iba how to remove them. So every time he sees one he sorta stands there for a minute and hopes it will move, before yelling "BOSS!"

Shunsui: Does not want to admit how much Spiders freak him out. It's not fear, precisely- more of a disgust reaction. All bugs make his skin crawl and he understands how important they are, but can they do all that ecology stuff Far Away From Him, Please And Thank You?

Nanao: Like Unohana, reveres spiders as pest control. She takes it a step further, and actively collects Jumping Spider egg sacs as she finds them in the archives and tends to them over winter so when early spring comes, she can release several hundred thousand spiderlings into the archives to destroy the mites, bookworms, moth larvae and other archive pests before they can get a foothold. She usually does this while dumping out the entire terrarium and cackling manically.

Lisa: Immediately joins in on Nanao's Spider Propagation Project, much to Shunsui's horror.

Tousen: If there is a sudden shriek and burst of profanities and hexes in the ninth division, 90% chance it's because Kaname walked into a spider web again, his LEAST favorite texture in the Universe. Yes, including the curse nails. He'd keep them in his spine if it meant he'd never walk into another spiderweb.

Kensei: Often cracked open a beer while watching the evening news during his exile in the living world. Sometimes it was several beers, or something stronger if he'd had a rough day. One night, it was a bottle of Fireball as he watched the news, and felt too intoxicated to change the channel from the newshour, so he kept watching when PBS Nature came on, and damn near pissed himself laughing when he saw the Peacock Spider's Mating Dance. Full on Howling, tears streaming down his face, barely able to breathe, Pterodactyl-noises laughing. Nothing has been funnier before or since to him, so now whenever he sees a spider he starts guffawing and stop to explain WHY.

Shuuhei: Deeply confused by the fact spiders keep coming indoors. "Why are you all here?" he asks, doing a cobweb patrol with the broom before his boss gets back from the inter-division meeting. "What are you eating? Crumbs? Lint? Is it Lint you eat?"

Mashiro: Has a grasshopper-type Zanpakuto who is not a fan, so she attempts to destroy any spider she sees in solidarity. Usually misses and destroys something else.

Matsumoto: Spiders are cool, but not as cool as snakes :)

Hitsugaya: Grew up on a farm, and shares Momo's total non-reactivity to them. It's even deeper, because his constant ambient chill means spiders never climb on him if they can't help it.

Zaraki: Used to agitate Yumichika and Ikkaku by eating them. Now he agitates them by wandering off the trail during 11th Division Boot Camp or other deployments and coming back with extremely dangerous ones and handing them to Hanataro "fer yer collection". The 11th Division's Pocket Medic has explained toxicology at length to him, and now Zaraki thinks of various medicines as "Spider Pills" and "Scorpion Juice".

Yachiru: Still eats spiders. She's the sole exception to the Wrath of Komamura, because there is no malice or fear in her actions- it's perfectly natural and morally upstanding Carnivory. The rest of you are being irrational and jerks.

Ikkaku: Sometimes regrets his life choices when he sees the freak he's sworn loyalty to walk out of the trees with something venomous enough to kill half the gotei-13 with a single bite crawling over his face, then realizes that's FUCKING BADASS and is assured that he made the right choices.

Yumichika: *currently sneaking up behind Ikkaku with a fake spider on a string to affectionately terrorize him*

Mayuri: Unlike Uuryu, Mayuri isn't a Weenie, and he's making his dreams of Milkable Spiders the Size of Cattle a reality.

Nemu: Helping with that. This one is hers. She named it #47, after it's designation, Specimen Number 47.

Ukitake, *entirely genuine, with a huge spider crawling across his forehead* "...There's a spider in here?"

#Bleach #bleach fanfiction #AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Spiders #some people are more chill than others #and some are straight up failing perception checks

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lure-of-writing · 3 days

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His little Sister: I'm sorry

Summary: The mating bond between you and Azriel has been revealed and he isn't sure if any apology will ever make up for the hurt he has cause you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none that I know of

Authors note: Guys I just got my nails done so if there is typos it's because I'm not used to typing with daggers on my hands. But anyways that's not what we're here for. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Azriel was screwed. Royally screwed. Even as the spymaster of the night court he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one unscathed. First and foremost there was you. You were the mosting important thing in this giant mess that your cousin just caused and making sure you were ok was his first priority. That is once you inevitably get all of the hurt and betrayal out of your system. He could feel your emotions barrelling down the bond and it damn near made him crumple under the weight of your hurt. Next on the list of casualties was Rhysand. And by the look on the high lord's face it was a mixture of pure unfiltered anger and the need to protect his little sister. Azriel can’t blame him, you look like you could either rip him to shreds and bawl your eyes out while doing so.

Rationally Azriel knew that Rhys would never really do anything to hurt him but the other part knew that Rhysand played dirty when it came to his family and it was some sort of unwritten rule that he would go to the end of the world to make sure you were ok. If Rhysand played dirty before he was about to get filthy now. This would not be the first time he stepped toe to toe against a high lord, specifically against Rhys, but this time would without a doubt be different. This time Rhysand would pocket away all of the years of their friendship and in turn he would fight Azriel like a traitor. He, without trying, had broken your heart and betrayed your trust. To Rhysand this was the ultimate act of betrayal.

Only being one hundred years younger than your brother means all three males were also relatively young in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand held your tiny body against his. The three males had taken a break forming training in the mountains to visit you in Velaris. It wasn’t often Rhysand was allowed to leave the camps, much less often for Azriel and Cassian. But with the arrival of a new babe they had been permitted to leave. It became a tradition to visit the ever growing babe once a year. Somewhere in the chaos of training for the Blood Rite you had grown into a teenager. Cassian was sprawled out on one of the couches in the cabin and Azirel had taken his place in the chair that was unofficially deemed as his. There in a seat a little bit bigger than his own but yet still smaller than the couch Cassian claimed you were curled up against your older brother, peacefully sleeping.

Rhysand had always disliked the way things were run in the camps, oftentimes they made his blood boil but something changed in him the day you were born. Rhys knew from a young age that he would be a protector. A protector of his friends, his family, his people and his court. But he never knew that the most precious thing he would come to protect was you. He never wanted in the camps, walking amongst those who would take any opportunity to clip your wings or even kill you without a second thought. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop your visit as your father deemed it necessary.

Silence was light in the room. Occasionally there was a pop or crackle from the fire, the sound of clothes shifting against the couch from Cassian and the light noise of you breathing. With a heavy sigh Rhys rubbed his face causing both males to look at their friend in confusion. “Something on your mind brother?” Cassian's deep voice filled the once quiet room. For a moment nothing was said as Rhysand just looked deep into the fire before once again sighing and rubbing his face before throwing his head back to rest on the couch. “What if I’m not capable of protecting her?” The two males looked at each other in confusion before turning their attention back on their friend. Everyone knew that the power Rhys possessed was quite frankly, insane, to put it simply. “Rhys, I think you're forgetting you are there, bud.” Once more Cassian's voice takes over the room. This time in a gentle laughter. “It’s not that I’m unaware of what I am capable of.” Rhys stops speaking as he looks down at your resting form laying against him. Gently he moves a piece of hair that had fallen in your face. “I know what I can do. What I am willing to do to keep her safe but I will not always be around to protect her and that is what I fear.”

“Being her brother is the greatest honor I have ever been given but what if I fail? What will it cost her? Just her being here possesses a threat to her life. Those males out there would not hesitate to clip her wings or flat out kill her. What happens when I am needed elsewhere and she is in trouble? Who will save her then? I know my mother is training her to fight but I never want her to be put in that position where she has to. Making sure she is safe, happy and loved is all I want for her. I never want her to experience the world we have endured.”

Neither males have a sister but they do have the love of siblings for each other and they know the lengths they would go to for the other males. They may not know what it's like to have a sibling but they do know what it's like to love you. Since the day you were born they have done nothing but love and dote on you. If you tripped and fell and scraped your knees Cassian would scoop you up and cradle you until you stopped crying. Only then would he set you somewhere where he could properly clean the cuts littering your body and then take you for a treat to make you feel better. Azriel would help you with any of the boring assignments your mother would hand out. “I don’t even know what this means!” you would groan out in frustration before dramatically letting your head fall face first into the book. Luckly Az knew you very well. Without looking up from what he was doing he placed his hand palm up in the book and waited for the impact of your head against his hand.

Finally once your head was in his hand, did he finally look up. “You may not understand it right now but eventually you will and you will be grateful your mother made you do this.” Groaning once more you left your head where it was. “Easy for you to say you're like a genius or something.” You grumble while Azriel lifts your head for you. Gently he pats the top of your head. “Maybe if you studied more you could be one too.” A mixture of a frustrated groan and sigh made its way through your lips causing Azriel to chuckle.

It was safe to say that they understood what a light you are in the world. In their world. And each male would do anything to protect it. “You know we would protect her with our lives, right?” Cassian now sat up on the couch. This conversation was important. “We have known her since the day she was born. We have watched her grow and reach each millstone just like you have Rhys. We would never let anything happen to her. If it were my life or hers, I would happily give up mine. I’m sure Az feels the same way.” And Azriel did. “You don’t have to worry about her by yourself. We can share the worry Rhys. You know you can count on us. If anything ever happens to you, we will protect her just as fiercely as you do. You know that right?” And Rhysand did in fact know that but there would always be some part of him that thinks only he will ever be able to do a good enough job at keeping you safe.

Apparently Rhysand was right. Only he would protect you. Azriel had broken his promise and now he would pay. Next on his list of people to deal with was Morrigian. At the moment she was not a priority but eventually would be. First he needed to survive the night.

If Azriel were to go back in time less than a week ago, he would have been more or less avoiding you. After his talk with Rhysand about the more interesting part of your relationship the shadowsinger thought it would be a good idea to give you some space, not wanting it to seem like he was trying to pursue something with you. Obviously that was the exact opposite of what he wanted but he was also keenly aware of your brother's disapproval of any male you chose to date. Azriel was sure he wouldn’t fare better than the others. On the other side Azriel truly had no idea how you would react to you being his mate and that terrified him.

He hadn’t seen you much since the training incident with Cassian. As much as it bothered him to not be able to check on your healing himself he had Cassian right there basically giving me second by second updates. Which he did appreciate but since Cassian knew you were his brother's mate he was being a little over the top. Which is why Azriel was not expecting to see you on the rooftop for the daily morning training session.

Az and his shadows watched from across the room as Cass ushered you back towards the house. That was until you saw him and course corrected to be right in front of him. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The hurt in your voice made him feel like a terrible person but he also couldn’t give you the real answer why. Not right now and definitely not right here. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” He knew he was whispering but he also knew there were more listening ears then just yours, mainly Cassians. Azriel watched as Cassian scooped you up and walked back to where he was herding you, just moments before you veered off on your own.

As the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court there wasn’t much, if anything, that made him nervous. The piercing stare of your gaze following his every move was definitely unsettling. But his male ego wouldn’t let him slip into that unflinching state of mind that he would usually find himself in when sparring. Now he was keenly aware of each move he was making while in front of you. His need to impress didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Thankfully Cassian decided to have mercy on his soul and let him get in a few good punches as his repayment for when Cassian did the same to him while in front of Nesta.

The daily sparring session was over sooner and also later then he wanted it to be. One part of him wanted to continue to impress you, even if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you were even impressed in the first place. The other part of him just really wants to get the awaiting conversation over with. Azriel headed over the bench where his long forgotten shirt and water bottle had been previously placed. He had barely gotten in one drink of water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” It was the same question that you had previously asked him before being dragged away by Cassian. And yet this time it made him even more nervous then the first time you had asked him. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was make you feel like he didn’t want to be around you. Even before the bond he wanted to be around you every chance he could get and you knew that. He needed a reason you would believe. A downfall that came with spending all of his spare time with you is that you were able to tell when he was lying better than anyone else in the inner circle. There was only one thing he could tell you that wasn’t the full truth nor a complete lie. Rhys wasn’t a fan of the relationship, or lack thereof, between the two of us and he needed to step back in respect for Rhysand.

Thankfully the mother was on his side that morning because you believed him.

Opening up his arms in a form of some peace offering he’s quickly wrapped in your arms. Even though hugging anyone who was sweaty was something that he knew drove you crazy you did it anyways and it warmed his heart. But watching you place your chin on top of his chest just about made his heart melt. He prayed that you wouldn’t be able to feel or hear just how fast his heart is beating, and it is not from the training.

Oh how Azriel wished he could go back in time to just a few days ago. Hell he would even go back to when he was avoiding you. Truthfully anything would be better than what was currently unraveling in front of him.

“How long have you known?” Azriel tore his eyes away from Morr to look at you. The look of heartbreak that painted your face was like a suckerpunch to his gut. He took a sharp breath in. You were always stunning in Azriels eyes but looking at you now was like looking like a fallen angel. As much as the poetic beauty was undeniable he also never wanted to see that look on your face again. He would do anything to make you trust him again.

“I-” Azriel didn’t realize just how dry his throat was until he tried speaking. Actually now that he was focused on his body he was pretty sure he felt like he was going to throw up. Swallowing he takes another deep breath. A quick glance to his right reveals Rhysand with a raised eyebrow and barely contained anger. “I’ve known since the war.” Azriel always imagined this moment would be very different. Just the two of you in private. And it would finally feel like a brick being lifted off of his chest.

But watching your reaction to his confession felt like the opposite. He watched as you blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the back of Morrigians chair for support. Looking at the look he watches a tear finally free itself and makes its way to the ground. Just as quickly as the first tear had fallen the rest had also followed suit. He watches as you shake your head and look at your brother for the answer of what you are supposed to do. The dining room had never been as quiet as it was in these waking moments and Azriel despised it. Even if he was the cause of it. “You’ve known for almost a year and you never told me?” The spymaster watched as you fought against the lump in your throat only for your voice to crack on the last word. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me continue to dream about the love I desired. Let me think I was never going to get the love Rhys and Fey have? You’ve known for months!” Azriel sat unmoving as your betrayal turned to sadness and then anger. You had never raised your voice and yelled at him before but he knew he deserved every ounce of anger you threw at him. “You-you out of all people knew how I felt about mates and yet you held this from me. My mate! I-I-I -oh my god.” Time seemed to slow down in that moment as he watched you grab your chest in pain then collapse to the floor. He felt himself rise. Azriel wasn’t sure why, was it to move to the other side of the table and comfort you? Was it in shock? Fear for your breaking heart? He wasn’t sure. It was like slow motion as Mor swiftly twisted out of her seat and caught your limp body on the way down to the floor. Together the two females sat on the floor. Morrigian had wrapped her arms around your body and held you pressed against her chest as you sobbed.

“Azriel!” That was the commanding voice of a high lord. The force of which Rhysand said his name and allowed his power to wash over him was the only thing capable of pulling his focus off of your crumpled body. Looking back to his right he notes that Rhysand has pushed the chair he was previously sitting in far behind him. It didn’t go unnoticed how Feyre made her way to you with urgency. The primal anger and need to protect his family also didn’t go unnoticed by the shadowsinger. He was about to get his ass beat. If not altogether killed. Rhysand may have been mad at Cassian for hurting you but he did go easy on him, even if it resulted in a few nasty bruises littering his body. Azriel knew for sure this would be nothing like that time. Rhysand had a look of death in his eyes and Azriel was sure death was waiting to greet him.

“Uh oh. Yeah you guys may want to get out of here it's about to get ugly.” Cassian also stood from where he was once seated and began stretching. Noting Feyres' worry Cassian continued “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt each other too much.” He paused, “Well I won’t let them kill each other.”

Only after everyone except Mor and Cassian had winnowed away his Rhysand lunge at Azriel.

Ever since learning that you were his mate one of his shadows followed you religiously. He never even told them to do that, it was just something they did naturally. His shadows always were ones to keep an eye on you even if you were completely safe.

That's how he found himself in front of the river house. His shadows danced around him in warning of the two females sitting in the living room still awake at this hour. Without looking at a clock Azriel would assume it was around three in the morning. Gently he pushes the hard oak door open only closing it after allowing himself inside the quiet house. Azriel knew he could make his way to your room without either one of the females knowing but he assumed it was better to get everything that could tear him apart over with while he was down.

“I feel bad for her. I know what it's like when the other person knows they're your mate and you're left in the dark. But this is something else. If Mor hadn’t said anything would he?” He could hear the voice of his concerned high lady. “Do we know if she even still has a mate? Rhysand looked like he was going to kill him.” Nestas' voice that usually dripped in sarcasm was dry as bone. Stepping into the room he made his footsteps louder than he would ever step to announce his presence. A sharp gasp was the only noise that Feyre made as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my gods” The scraping of the chair against the wooden floor pulls his gaze from the spot on the floor he found particularly interesting to see Feyre making her way over to him. Over her shoulder he could see Nesta taking inventory of the damage Rhysand caused. “Are you ok?” He shrugs off her question but allows her gentle hands to move his head from side to side.

“How is she?” Everybody knew who he was talking about. Feyre led him to the couch ushering him to sit down as Nesta answered “As well as you can expect.” Feyre had stepped out of the room to grab a pain relieving tonic “She just fell asleep a few minutes before you got here” she pushes the vial into his hands “Drink” she insists. “I never meant for it to go like this. For it to get this far without me telling her. I just was waiting for her to feel it herself but then I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting and the next thing I knew I was sitting at that table listening to Mor tell her. I promise I never meant to hurt her. You know that right? You have to believe me.” The constant throbbing throughout his body finally forced him to drink the tonic in hopes it could even touch the pain he was feeling. “I’m sure you never meant for this to happen az. But why didn’t you just tell her. Anyone with eyes could see that she already had feelings for you.’’

“I wanted it to be her choice. I would never force her to accept the bond. All I want is for her to be happy no matter what.” A heavy sigh fell from both females before the peaceful silence filled the room. Nesta was the first to leave in hopes of getting at least an hour of sleep before she needed to be awake for training. With a gentle squeeze of his arm Feyre stands above him “I Believe you Az. But you need to understand how hurt she is currently feeling.” looking up he sees not his high lady or Rhysands mate but a concerned friend. “I know I can feel it through the bond.” Feyre smiles sadly before stopping in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go be with her Az. You both need it.”

The warmth of the fire was the first thing Azriel noticed upon entering your room. Although fae ran warmer than humans you were the rare exception. Unless absorbing heat from the sun or another person you were on average at least ten degrees colder than anyone else. A small smile found its away to his face to see the fire going. His own personal relationship with fire may be nonexistent but for you he would endure it a hundred times over. The next thing he noticed was your sniffling and quiet sobs. In three large strides he was kneeing besides your bed. “Y/n” you name was like a whisper of a prayer in a silent coven meant for worship. He watched as your eyes opened to meet his and listened as a sob racked your body. “I am so sorry baby” Quickly he raised from where he was previously knelt on the floor and climbed into bed with you. The move to place your body on top of his was easy but listening to the silent cries of your heart breaking wasn’t. “I never meant to hurt you I swear.”

Eventually the tears raining upon his chest and was replaced with the gentle breathing of your sleeping form. Azriel knew he should sleep but he couldn’t help but admire every part of you just in case this was the last time he got to hold you like this. That's why he wasn’t startled when Rhysand barged into your room, startling you awake. “I told you to stay away from her. I’m going to kill you.” He promised. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of your brother as you raised to sit in between his legs. Rhysand could do whatever he wished but Azriel wouldn’t leave without making sure you were ok first. “Rhys don’t. You may be mad at him, but Azriel is my mate.” The bond had never sung in happiness like it did basking in the warmth of your acknowledgement.

Taglist

@kemillyfreitas @lana08 @willowpains @username199945 @tothestarsandwhateverend

@kylaisra @lilah-asteria @nickishadow139 @br0klynbby @blacktreacle22

@amysangel @mp-littlebit @mybestfriendmademe

@olive-main @mariahoedt @tele86 @marina468 @fangirlloza010 @kennedy-brooke

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel one shot #rhysand x sister!reader

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lilasamaaa · 1 day

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Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3K.

Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.

Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?

Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie

The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.

"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.

Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.

"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.

"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.

"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."

Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.

"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"

"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.

"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."

Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.

"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.

"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.

"How come I've never been to your place?"

Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.

"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.

"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"

"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.

"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."

After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.

The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."

"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."

The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.

"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"

"What about Nobu?" Max says.

"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.

"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."

"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."

"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.

His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.

"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."

"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"

Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.

"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.

"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."

"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.

"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"

"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."

You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."

"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.

The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.

"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."

Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."

"What? What did you do?"

"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.

"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.

"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.

"How much?"

"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"

You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.

"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.

"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.

At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.

For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.

"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.

Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.

"What's happening?" you ask, panting.

And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.

"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.

"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."

The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.

You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.

The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.

Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.

"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.

"I owe you some explanations."

No reply.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver."

You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.

"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."

"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."

"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."

"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.

Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.

"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"

Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.

"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."

"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."

It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."

You hate him.

You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.

"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."

"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."

One month later.

"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."

"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.

"Okay. Let's do this."

#f1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #mv1 #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x you #mv33 x reader #lilasamaaa #slowly working my way up all the requests lmao

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 2 days

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Alright, here we go

First and foremost I want to talk about what flying bark's animation has meant to me.

In a world where every day I see 2d animation being rejected for cheaper 3d and puppet animation at every turn, Monkie Kid's animation was the one of the first things that gave me hope for the future of 2D animation. I can't tell you how long I've been wanting a 2D animated show, growing up I wanted one so desperately, I craved good animation amongst the stiff 3D and flat storytelling, so when I got it, when Monkie Kid happened, I was so unbelievably happy. It was everything I wanted in a show, gorgeous animation, excellent voice actors, romance free and friendly to my desperate friendship-craving, romance-overstimulated brain and written in a way I enjoyed so much. I struggle to describe exactly how much I’ve adored everything this show has been up until this point. It truly is a masterpiece.

Monkie kid has kept me company during the lowest and roughest points in my life. I got to such a bad place mentally but Monkie Kid’s fast-paced, snappy, detailed, colourful bright animation brought light into my darkest mental times and not only helped me stay connected with people but kept me creating even when I wanted nothing more than to lay on the floor and never move again. I'm aware most of the flying bark team is active on the bird app and none of them are gonna see this most likely but I still just wanted to say thank you. Thank you so much for animating this show, thank you so much for giving it your all. Thank you so much for giving me something I’ve always wanted so perfectly. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for keeping me company at my lowest, thank you for sharing your joy of animation so I could catch some of those rays of sunlight and feel a little of that joy too. Thank you for your positivity and good vibes, thank you.

I know so many people have gotten inspiration from flying bark and I have to add myself to the infinite list. My art has improved so much thanks to their inspiration. My style has developed, I’ve had so much fun, I’ve written some of my favorite works ever based off of expressions that the characters make alone. My last amv I made because I was so grateful for the animation that we'd gotten up to that point. I wanted to showcase, to thank, to appreciate. I didn’t know it would be a goodbye. Words can't describe all that flying bark's animation and even their storyboards have done for me. When nothing could make me happy, monkie kid wormed its way into my brain and somehow kept me in one piece. I know that wouldn’t have been possible without the animation that left me at the edge of my seat, breathless and laughing over how incredible it really was every single time. Every new clip, every new episode I’d pause and rewatch again, I’d rewatch over and over, I’d take screenshots of every goofy background character, I’d screenshot every expression I could, I’d go through episodes frame-by-frame, literally one at a time for hours on end just so i could catch every detail, I’d open my eyes wider and wider to try and take in every bit I could in a way I’ve never been able to do before because there is nothing else out there like monkie kid. There was nothing as fun and as joyful as every single frame that flying bark gave us. And I am going to miss that so much.

The fact that season 4 was a sendoff is so heartbreaking to me, it's hard to describe how devastated I feel knowing something that kept hold of my hand when I was facing hard hard things in my life is suddenly gone. I don’t know how to ever express how important this show has been to me, it’s kept me going and helped me get to a place where I could breathe again. It’s connected me with some of the greatest people I know. It’s given me incredible experiences, introduced me to what animation could be and I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt having to say goodbye so suddenly.

I know this isn’t the end of Monkie Kid as a show. I know season 5 is still coming. And I also know Monkie Kid has lost a huge part of what made it unique and special, a huge part of its heart and soul. Without flying bark it feels like half the show is missing and although I hope I can still support the show, no one can deny the cavern-sized hole that is left by flying bark’s absence in it. The animation team has such an incredibly positive atmosphere around them that just absolutely radiates from the things they create. I am going to miss that so desperately in monkie kid. I’m going to support every other show flying bark works on, I’m still going to love their animation wherever it goes, but I am going to miss it in monkie kid like nothing else I’ve ever missed.

I do have some other thoughts regarding the new changes in monkie kid but I wanted to keep that separate from the actual farewell, so that’ll be it’s own post and I just want to end this by saying thanks for everything Flying Bark you’ve been a real one. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re already being missed so hard it hurts. Keep those good vibes and keep up what you’re doing. You all really are incredible and an inspiration to artists everywhere. We love this show because of the voice actors, because of the writers, because of the music but a great deal of people loved this show because of you. You’ve inspired a community of artists, you’ve inspired me. Thank you flying bark for everything you've given us, you gave it your all and I’m gonna carry the impact you left on me for the rest of my life.

LOVE YOU FLYING BARK. Here's to a bright future. Thanks for everything <3

#knox rambles #long post #monkie kid #flying bark #gods ima miss them #ive never cared about an animation studio so much in my LIFE #good people will do that to ya #face in hands bro #im a fundamentally different person because of these guys #ough #lego monkie kid #its gonna take me a bit to recover from this one bois

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extrajigs · 3 days

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Okay but trans sytraphants? How would that work? Like would the crest size change based in HRT or is it a permanent feature once puberty hits? - @thatoddboy

This ask made me THINK! I'm thinking they don't do any messing until puberty is over since the crest does have their brains in it and all, but they can trim back the points of the crest to align to more gender conforming shapes! After that they can also adjust the colors as bio-males crests are colored a lot brighter. Also scent is a very important sense to them! So another option is to change up their scent to better pass. I don't know enough about them yet to know about their hormone situation. They're pretty chill about it tho, there isn't major pressure to physically transition in order to be a dude or gal!

#trans aliens why didnt I think of that #great ask tho!#made me THINK #styraphant #art #speculative biology #spec bio #alien #xenobiology

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ready-to-obeyme · 2 days

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look my way

Sometimes, Lucifer wishes you weren't so popular as you are. You would think it's the other way around.

Lucifer x Reader, gender-neutral, pre-relationship, fluff

Word Count: <1k

Diavolo would be rather pleased to know you are making friends outside of the seven demon brothers. His vision of peace among the three realms seems more of a reality when a human can play among common angels and lesser demons without fear of retribution or danger. Lucifer would commend you as well, for Diavolo's goals are his own and you are technically under his care-- but he finds you a tad too trusting for your own good, even if it is one of the redeeming qualities that make you popular in the Devildom.

And you are-- popular, despite your modest denials and deflections of "you're much more popular, Lucifer."

Lucifer sees you the way others do. Your friendliness is what makes you well-liked, your indiscriminatory manner of treating others endearing. But it is that soul of yours and a heart that does not falter that makes you popular. Desireable-- though he doubts any demon would dare present themselves in that way to you, not with how closely you stay next to him.

Lucifer can't say he isn't pleased with this, both with your evident affection for him and the wide berth other demons give you when they see him approach. He has no qualms in fighting to get what he wants, but it feeds on his pride that no one would dare challenge him.

But still... it is only a testament on how much he has grown attached to you that he sees you-- eyes fond, smile wide in the direction of others-- and feels a hot flare of jealousy despite himself. Though, if he were truly being honest with himself, he had never been one to share, even when he was an angel.

"You're quite the popular one," Lucifer tells you as he walks you home, and he wants to bite his cheek for voicing his feelings outloud to you, the only source of his bittersweet uncertainty.

"There's no one else," you say, and you turn your head quickly away, eyes determinedly forward even though you spot Lucifer look at you curiously.

"Pardon?" He asks, amusement in his tone.

"You're the popular one between the two of us," you blurt out. "I haven't been with anyone for the past few years or so, some years from choice but others... it just hadn't worked out."

You look down at your feet, wondering if there exists a plane below even the Devildom to swallow you whole. But still, it seemed important now to tell Lucifer in the moment, so you speak; it does well for you most of the time. "So you're the only one. The only one that matters."

Lucifer scoffs. "You are popular." You hear his tone soften, and it makes the tendrils of your heart curl in pleasure. "They'd be a fool not to notice how sweetly you treat others."

"I guess when you compare me to a demon, of course," you tease. "And even then, it isn't romantic."

And then you begin to wonder: how many lovers must Lucifer have taken? For how long? Any history of yours would pale in comparison, but especially so, because it is Lucifer. You are certain that even pride and arrogance cannot be strong enough of a deterrent for others to pursue someone as beautiful and talented as Lucifer.

"I see," Lucifer says, and you look at him, confused. You see the tell-tale smirk on his face before you hear his teasing comment. "So you wish to be fawned over as a romantic interest? Coveted as a lover by many?" He takes your hand into his, and before you can instinctively pull away, Lucifer presses a kiss onto your hand.

Your face prickles with how quickly it warms.

"Well," you mumble, looking away, "maybe just by one demon." You let your hand be manipulated until his palm is flat against yours. His fingers are much longer than yours-- his entire hand is, really-- that they envelope yours in its entirety. It's the only coherent thought at the moment; you can only think about how Lucifer is the one holding your hand.

"Good," he tells you, and his smile is pleased, a little smug if you know him well enough. "No other demon could compare, so there is no use in trying."

You let out a laugh, the comment so representative of the Avatar of Pride. It should be off-putting, his arrogance, but you can only admire it, and even at the worst of times, agree with it. And at the best of times, you adore it, especially when you know how little pride matters when it comes to his brothers.

"You're right," you say before Lucifer thinks your laughter means you believe otherwise. "Even if there was, you're still the only one that matters to me, Lucifer."

"Naturally," he says, but you see his ears pink at your words. He grips your hand tighter when you pass by a triad of demons, pulling you subtly closer to him. You hear a titter of laughter trailing after the two of you, and you wonder if they are talking about the two of you-- demon of pride and human-- walking hand in hand. You wonder if Lucifer is proud to have you at his side.

(Perhaps one day he will tell you himself.)

#obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me x reader #may change format when i get home #but i banged this out and needed it outta my hands #CUZ I LOVE HIM. EVEN IF HE DIDNT COME HOME 😭😭😭

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pandoraslxna · 1 day

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hi luna, i found ur fics on ao3 and ran my ass to tumblr bc i just needed more of ur writing. you're so talented!!

i was wondering if you could write a lo'ak x reader story similar to the step bro!teyam fic where he makes contact with the sex pollen. it could be step bro!lo'ak or just reader's bsf idm bc i've been thinking abt that fic for agessss and i'd die for a lo'ak version even where reader is the one that touches the pollen instead 😭🫶 pretty pls and thanks in advance （╹◡╹）♡

Forbidden desires

adult Stepbro!Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader

Words: 3.8k

Summary: Nine times out of ten, when you were sent to one of those old, abandoned RDA outpost facilities, it went just fine. But there's always that tenth time.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (they’re not blood related), sex pollen, cowgirl position, creampie, teasing, praise

Nine times out of ten, when you were sent to one of those old, abandoned RDA outpost facilities, it went just fine. But there's always that tenth time. And of course it’s when your accompanied by your older stepbrother, who somehow seemed to magically attract any kind of danger ever since he was a kid.

Scavenging abandoned laboratories for essential supplies that the clan could use was usually safer than it sounded, but this place, it was far off your usual research zone and Jake- dad, he said you could call him dad. Well dad said, it would be better to not go alone this time, just in case.

The once bustling scientific havens now stands as a relict of the past, slowly succumbing to the relentless embrace of nature. The laboratory emerges from the foliage, structure weathered and worn by time. Moss and ivy clings to the cracked walls, intertwining with rusted metal equipment. Vines creep through broken windows and shattered glass, casting intricate patterns of sunlight onto the decaying floors.

This place smells sharp, metallic, so much like tawtutes [humans] and the rotting smell of death and burnt earth they leave behind. Not exactly a pleasant scent.

Inside, a sense of eerie tranquility fills the air. Dust particles dance in the faint beams of light that manage to pierce through the overgrown canopy. Dilapidated shelves line the walls, remnants of long-forgotten experiments, holding faded vials and forgotten notes.

Lab benches, once polished and pristine, now bear the scars of abandonment papers lay strewn across the floor, their text faded and illegible. The hum of electricity has long been silenced, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the fluttering wings of Riti [Stingbats] that were abruptly woken by the two na‘vi entering the long forgotten building.

Amongst the ruins, you search meticulously, your eyes scanning for useful remnants. You carefully examine cabinets, hoping to uncover unused medicine, bandages, exo packs that are still intact or any other useful tools.

Your stepbrother however, seemed to have other plans in mind.

"You shouldn’t touch that", you said, snatching his wrist mid way of him prodding at what you hoped was a fake skeleton. Lo‘ak let out a chuckle as he gazed down at you, both of his brows raised in amusement as he wriggled his hand free of your hold.

"Relax, tsmuke [sister]. Are you always this uptight when going on your little adventures?"

"I‘m not uptight, Lo‘ak. I‘m being careful", you said, shaking your head. "Jak– Dad taught me to be. You never know what the vrrteps [demons] could possibly be hiding here. And this isn’t an adventure, we‘re here to get supplies!"

"Right, of course. We‘re on a very important mission here", Lo’ak scoffs sarcastically, then proceeds to yank at the skeletons arm and point it in your direction, poking your hip with the boney finger when you roll your eyes at him. "You think they have traps set here to capture cute na‘vi girls? Ohh, isn’t that scary?"

"You’re an idiot", you giggle, swatting the hand away and playfully slapping your stepbrothers arm.

You both then take the steps up to the second floor of the building, and when you round a corner, you stop dead in your tracks. There was a "DO NOT ENTER" sign taped to the door that was slowly starting to peel off.

Experiments on animals or even na‘vi weren’t really uncommon, and you knew the horrors that the RDA was capable of, had heard and seen it yourself, especially in those research laboratories. Which is why you weren’t sure if whatever awaited behind this door was worth the few extra exo packs and bandages.

"We shouldn’t–"

"Oh, yes we should", Lo‘ak is quick to cut you off, all too eager to push the heavy metal door open. A rush of stale air fills your nostrils and you grimace at the smell.

"I should’ve just asked Neteyam to come with me", you mumble under your breath, closely following Lo‘ak into the room, who had a wide, excited grin on his face.

"And miss out on all the real fun?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, you two would clearly make the better duo."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the feeling of unease that grew inside you, your eyes darting around the room, while your stepbrother's curiosity only intensified. Ignoring your trepidation, Lo‘ak stepped forward, drawn to a large, dusty table at the center of the room.

Among the scattered papers and broken equipment laid a few conical flasks, some of them still filled with droplets of a strange liquid.

Turning on your heals you took a quick 360°-spin. The room was small enough to get an overall view in less than a few seconds. There was nothing but this table and broken laboratory equipment. Nothing that seemed to be of worth for the clan, so you glanced back over your shoulder, already heading back to the door as you pleaded, "Lo‘ak, come on. There’s nothing in here, let’s just go back."

Lo’ak however, couldn't resist the temptation to tease you, playfully waving one of the glasses around. "Killjoy", he mutters under his breath, before shouting, "Here, catch", and throwing the conical flask in your direction. You shriek as you jump around to try and catch the glass in time, but it slips right past your fingers.

You both watch it fall like it’s happening in slow motion, until it bursts on the floor and the glass shatters in thousand little pieces.

As soon as the liquid inside makes contact with the tiled floor, it morphs into a small cloud of steam that smells awfully sweet and you end up coughing a few times before sending a glare in Lo‘aks direction. Sucking in a sharp breath, he makes an apologetic face and rushes to your side, careful not to step in any of the glass shards. "Shit, sorry! I‘m so sorry, are you hurt?"

"No, skxawng [moron]. I‘m fine", you clear your throat, "Great mother, you’re acting like such a child sometimes…"

"Yeah, I hear that a lot", he grins and you can’t help but smile at the coy flick of his tail. "C‘mere, can’t let you get hurt or dad will skin me", he murmurs, pointing at the glass, before scooping you into his arms and carrying you out of the room.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and tickles Lo‘aks neck as you rest your chin on his shoulder. Your heart was still pounding from the scare, harder than you would like to admit. Nuzzling closer to his neck, you allowed your eyes to rest for a moment, just breathing in the natural, soothing scent of his skin, while he carried you downstairs. He smells so much like cedarwood, leather and freshly cut grass, you notice. And something else that you can’t quite put a name on, but it tingles your nostrils and makes goosebumps raise on the nape of your neck.

"You smell good", you mumble the words before you can throughly think them through, while pressing your nose against his throat. Your lips graze his skin and you can feel his upper body stiffen at that. "Was that a weird thing to say?" You ask calmly, almost a little too calm.

There’s a moment of silence before Lo‘ak shakes his head and murmurs a quick, "no."

Back at the main entrance, he gives a light squeeze to your hips, signaling you that he would let you down to your feet now, but your arms wrap around his neck tightly. He just smells so good, you want to stay here for a while longer. Lo‘ak is strong, you know he could effortlessly carry you all day.

"Can you hold me for a while longer?" Your own voice seems so far gone, so far away, you don’t even hear yourself properly, don’t even realize you’re speaking at all. Your skin tingles where Lo‘ak has his arms wrapped around you, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm, pressing yourself closer against him.

"Tanhì [little star], are you… are you okay?"

"Hmh", you hum, crossing your ankles behind his back like a Syaksyuk [prolemuris] clinging to it‘s mother.

"Are you sure?" There’s genuine concern in his voice, one of his hands running up your back, feeling your temperature at the nape of your neck. "You’re kind of burning up a little."

Your response almost sounds like a drunken mumble, "hmm strange. My heart‘s beating pretty fast too." It’s followed by a little giggle, and Lo‘ak frowns.

He‘s not panicking, not yet, but he knows something is wrong. This was really, really not normal behavior for you. He feels your face entirely too close to his pulse point, can feel your nose nuzzling against him, your lips brushing his throat. It’s not a kiss, he tries to make himself believe.

You’re not kissing up and down his throat. You’re not, because that would be wrong. Why would you— and then he feels it. Your tongue. His whole body shivers at the wet glide of your tongue on his throat, and Lo‘ak swallows thickly, before coming back to his senses.

"O-Okay, listen, uhm, I’m gonna put you down now", he scrambles, untangling you from his body to set you down to your feet. Your knees seem a little weak and Lo‘ak can’t help but reach out to hold you steady, ignoring the way it makes you blush and lean in on him again.

It doesn’t take a genius to come to the conclusion that whatever was in that glass container must’ve been some sort of drug or whatever. As soon as the coin drops, Lo‘aks heart fills with guilt. His expression shifts to that of worry and uncertainty as he ponders if calling his father would be a good idea. He knows he has to make sure you’ll be okay, has to get you to the tsahìk, but he knows just as well that dad will most definitely skin him alive if he finds his precious adoptive daughter in this condition.

"I feel weird, Lo'", you snap him out of his train of thoughts. Lo’aks hands are on your upper arms, holding you steady while simultaneously keeping some distance between you and him. His eyes scan you up down, and he almost chokes on his spit as he catches the way you clench your thighs together, squirming, and fiddling with the fabric of your loincloth. "Feels really weird… here", you tell him in a hushed whisper, one of your hands bullying it’s way between your clenched thighs. Your eyes are half lidded and glassy as you stare up at him through your lashes, your cheeks flushed in a dark red.

Now he’s panicking.

"S-Shit", he sputters. His eyes are wide as he adverts his gaze to somewhere, anywhere else but you, trying not to look at his stepsister touching and rubbing herself over her clothes. That’s bad, that’s really, really bad. "Let’s just get you home, yeah? I‘m– I‘m sure there’s a cure to whatever it is that you have."

One quick glance down to see if you had even heard what he just said, and he finds you still clumsily rubbing your hands between your thighs, seeking some sort of relief. "But you", he swallows thickly, "you really need to stop doing that, okay?" Lo’ak knows he doesn’t even sound half convincing, and it takes him more than just a bit of effort to not stare at you right now.

You look back at him under your lashes, bite your bottom lip and shake your head and he knows you’re doing that on purpose— working him up with those helpless little noises, sweet sounds of need and pleasure, thighs clenching and unclenching around your own hand.

"C-Can’t you just help me? Please, I- I need you."

One of your hands then closes around his wrist and before he realizes to where you’re guiding him, his palm cups your still covered cunt. He feels your slick drench the woven coverings under his fingertips and his eyes widen. "Need you here", you plead. "It hurts so bad, Lo‘ak. I‘m so empty."

"I– I can’t, we shouldn’t—" Lo’ak shakes his head, seemingly torn, but suddenly your lips press against his and he just can’t find it in himself to pull away.

Your lips are so soft, softer than he imagined (not that he imagined what kissing you would be like, ever) and the moment Lo‘ak finds himself kissing back you surge forward, the grip around his wrist tightens, urging him to stay right there, teeth nipping at his bottom lip until his lips part and he can taste you, your tongue slipping inside his mouth, your salvia mixing with his.

Your kiss is forceful and he’s so much more into it than he thought he’d ever be. And when you pull back your lips are red and wet, and he knows his mouth is probably a perfect mirror to yours.

"Fuck, tanhì, baby", he whispers, "Gonna get me in trouble…" And in an instant he’s on you again. His tongue tingles as it curls around yours, with drool running down his chin as he backs you up against a tree. You cling to him, desperate and wanting, not letting go of his wrist until he makes you understand that he’s only pulling away to get that damn loincloth out of the way. It nearly rips with the effort of getting it off, but when he finally succeeds you both clumsily pull each other to the ground.

This is wrong, he thinks as he spreads your legs opens. This is so wrong, he thinks as he runs his hands up and down your body, your chest, pushing your top out of the way.

You look so beautiful like this, chest heaving and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Hair messy and eyes dark with lust, pupils so blown it should make him worry, but he can’t bring himself to care when his gaze falls to the space between your thighs where slick oozes out of you in a concerning amount.

"Please- Please put it in, I need you", you slur, spreading your thighs further apart. "Need you inside."

Your pussy looks red and puffy, so sensitive as he runs two digits through your folds and then gently pushes them in. You gasp, but open up perfectly for him. It’s not enough, Lo‘ak can feel it. He curls his fingers, pumps them in and out a few times to hear those sweet moans tumble from your parted lips.

"You have to promise you won’t hate me after this", he says under his breath. His thumb glides over your clit, gently pushing its little hood up to bring the little nub into view and he can almost feel it throb under his touch. "I‘m just helping you out because you asked for it, alright?" Lo‘ak says it as if he’s talking to himself, reassuring that you want this, it’s okay, and maybe it actually is. Peeling his eyes away from the mouthwatering sight between your thighs he finally looks back up at you, swallowing the salvia that has been pooling in his mouth. "Promise you won’t hate me. Please." The restrain is clear in his voice, but he’s nowhere near as needy as you are. "C’mon, baby, say it. Tell me with your words."

"I won’t hate you, Lo‘ak just please–" Suddenly you shove him by the shoulders, rolling over until you’re the one straddling him, pinning him down to the ground. Your hand impatiently reaches between your thighs and feels for his cock, before repositioning it to prod his tip at your entrance. He bucks up into your hand as you give his cock a few pumps, pre-cum dribbling through your fingers.

The sight of him beneath you sends a throb straight to your cunt.

Lo‘ak sucks in a breath just as he’s about to tell you to wait, slow down, but then you‘re already slamming yourself down onto him without remorse. Fuck, it's so easy. Fits right in like a glove; overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

A punched out moan breaks from his throat as he feels the tightness of your velvety-like walls envelope his length. He’s so deep inside you, he can feel your cervix kissing his tip and it sends a shudder up his spine.

It's almost an out-of-body experience as you get on your haunches and lift yourself up, the head of his cock still nudged against your entrance, and he watches your gleaming lips part before you sink all the way back down again, taking him into the softest, most delicate parts of yourself.

Lo‘ak feels it and knows that he can’t change anything about the way he’s completely surrendering to your control- and he absolutely fucking loves it.

It’s so wrong, but that’s what brings a tingle to his fingertips. So dirty, but that’s what makes heat raise under his skin like a fire burning down a forest.

Lo’ak watches the way your belly contracts visibly, in time with the hitch in your breath at the first few thrusts. Your thighs tense and your fingers finds his braids to anchor yourself, and his hands find your hips and push you down harder on his length and he’s startled to realise how soft you are now, yielding to him in ways he’d never have imagined once. You’re putty in his hands, ridden by nothing but pleasure. A carnal need.

It’s luck that the adventures in Lo’aks life gave or showed him at least a bit of reservoirs of self-control that his karyus [teachers] never thought he had, because after those first few thrusts, you ride him vigorously.

Lo’ak doesn’t know how you’re this in sync, but he knows you want him to fuck you hard and fast. With his hands still gripping your hips tightly, he drives deep and eagerly into your weeping cunt, welcomed by that glorious softness again and again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and meet his thrusts as best as you can.

"Lo‘ak", you draw out his name in a long, pathetic moan, "more, need more!"

"Great mother, you’re greedy, baby," he huffs out in a laugh, grips your hips and holds you down on his cock for a second longer than necessary, just to feel your little cunt pulsate around him. You struggle briefly, before picking up the pace again, bouncing harder than before, but also more uncoordinated.

"S‘just so good," you slur, sounding almost drunk. "You feel so good inside me. Fuck me harder!"

Your tongue lolls out and he catches you mid way, tongues meeting in a hungry, filthy kiss. You taste awfully sweet as you moan into it, and Lo‘ak can’t help but think you would want spurs right now, to urge him on all the more. As if he needs that when you kiss him like this, when you hold him so close he feels your tits, soft and warm and perfect, press against his chest.

His cock throbs and you’re starting to quiver now, distinct from the more deliberate movements you both make. It shows in your breasts, makes your thighs tremble against his sides and makes tremors in your stomach muscles.

For a moment it switches from bouncing to grinding, and Lo‘ak knows what you’re trying to do. You grind and rub your needy little clit against his pubic bone, let out desperate noises of pleasure while you hump him.

Lo‘ak makes a hungry humming noise in return which he feels through his lips, once you break away from the kiss, then a breathy groan when he captures a nipple between his teeth. His tongue swirls around the little nub before he tugs and he enjoys the way you clench around him at this.

One of his hands comes up to palm the other, kneading your soft flesh and twirling a nipple between his digits.

"Come for me", he then says, flat tongue gliding over your breast before goosebumps raise underneath. "Come for me, tsmuke. Do it."

The scream you let out is borderline pornographic. It brings tears to your eyes and nearly tips you off balance if it weren’t for Lo‘ak holding you, fucking you through it with short but deep thrusts that send you gasping for air. "Hmh, there it is. Good girl," he groans, "keep coming for me, baby, just like that. Let it all out for your big bro, yeah? Let me feel how bad you wanted this. Look at me."

You force your eyes to stay on him, watch him as you fall apart, rocking your hips for that little bit of extra friction, and Lo’ak feels all of it. The wetness where you are slipping together, the tightness, the little tremors of your body, the pulse of your clit as it rubs against him.

Lo‘ak doesn’t even realize he’s coming himself because he’s entirely too focused on you. He’s bluntly staring at you, eyes half open, mouth agape. It’s like he is trying to burn the image of your pleasure ridden face and your picture perfect body on top of him into his brain forever. He wants to keep it stored away just for himself, to come back to after this is over because he knows he can’t have you again. Because this can’t happen again.

The wet plap, plap, plap of his thrusts continues until your thighs begin to shake and he’s sure he has emptied even the last drop of his cum into your core. It’s back to just grinding then, wet bodies pressing together, closer and closer until neither of you can’t move anymore.

You’re panting, exhausted and spent, your chest heaving to inhale big gulps of air into your burning lungs. Blinking a few times, Lo‘ak notes that your eyes are halfway back to normal, pupils not as big as they were, your skin feeling less feverish but all the more sticky than before.

Good, that’s good, right?

"You," a pause, he swallows, "you okay?"

Nodding and a little out of breath you confirm it with a quick, breathy, "yeah."

There’s a long, long moment of silence, with just the two of you looking at each other, sweat still pearling at your forehead and messy hair framing your beautiful face. Lo‘ak looks at you like he’s afraid breaking the eye contact would break the spell and you would shove him away and call him disgusting, but you don’t.

"I'm not sorry, you know" he says finally, when he can’t stand it anymore. "I would do it again. For you. I will do it again, in a heartbeat, if I...."

"If you have to," you finish for him.

Lo’ak considers pushing it, considers holding your face and speak more firmly so he could be sure he had your full attention while he tried to make you get it. "Yeah," he says gently instead, risking a half hearted grin that would surely give him away. "If I have to."

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