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krafterwrites · 9 months

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Rows Of Roses

All the way back in October 2022, I held a raffle to celebrate hitting 500 followers, and promised the winner that I would write a fic for them. It may have taken a long time to get back enough energy to write again, but I stuck to my word, and now I've finally finished making a fic based on the prompt that my friend @4filen0tfound4 gave me. Hope it was worth the wait

Summary: Amy invites Silver over to her garden, where he learns about the many meanings that different colors of roses can hold

Words: 2847

In the city of Station Square, Amy's home stood out a bit. Unlike the apartment she had moved out of some time ago, which was no different than the rest in terms of its exterior, this small house situated close to the edges of the metropolis served as a small beacon of greenery through its yard and the garden contained inside of it. Amy was waiting in that yard when she heard a faint sound slice through the typical ambience, an ethereal humming sound. A second later, what she had suspected to be the source of the noise hovered into view

"I'm here! Hope I'm not late," Silver said as he dispersed the field of energy that had been carrying him and softly dropped onto the ground

"Nope, you're right on time," She reassured him. "Do you want anything before we start? I just got some tea from the store"

She gestured towards the front door of the home as she asked, and Silver couldn't tell if this meant she had planned to have a snack before they started, or if she was just being very inviting. He did really want to get to gardening right away, since he knew it would be fascinating to learn more about the plants of the past from someone who knew a lot about them, but he didn't want to accidentally mess up her plans after she'd been nice enough to invite him over. He hadn't known Amy for as long as her other friends, but she had always been just as sweet to him as everyone else during that relatively short period, so he decided that something little like this didn't matter

"I'd like to start right away, if that's alright," He told her with a slight bit of uncertainty. "Tea does sound great afterwards, though"

"Sounds good to me," She answered, beginning to turn and move towards the back of the plot's land

Silver internally relaxed a bit, and then began to follow Amy as she walked to her garden. The walk was very brief due to the small size of the yard, but even so it was still pleasant because of the perfectly maintained grass, and the perfect weather that was looking down on it. Once he had caught up with her, his eyes were caught by the centerpiece of the place. Laid out in a rectangle formation were what must have been at least a hundred roses, not just red, but in all sorts of new colors that he didn't even know were possible. White, yellow, green, even blue. The pretty display and the realization that even one of the few plants he thought he knew relatively well had so much more to it excited him a lot, which she noticed

"I see you like the roses I planted," Amy said joyfully

"I love them! They're all so beautiful, I didn't know that they came in colors other than red," He exclaimed

"Oh, yeah, there's tons of different colors they can have. Most people just think about the red ones when they hear roses, so romance is commonly associated with them since that's the meaning the reds have, but each color symbolizes different things"

He was intrigued even more by this revelation than the previous one. Each of the differently colored flowers in front of them all had meaning to them, like hidden messages of some sort. He began to wonder if the other flowers he'd seen up until this point represented things as well, if they might have been giving him signs that he hadn't been aware of

"Can you tell me about all of them?" Silver questioned

"Well, there's a lot of colors here to go through, and they can each have quite a few things associated with them," She explained. "Why don't you pick out one for us to start with?"

He looked at the arrangement of flowers intently, and tried to think about which ones caught his eye the most. Yellow and orange were such great colors, they reminded him of the sun and how its light felt on his fur, and the flames that Blaze could conjure. However, after thinking about it for some time, Silver decided that the most interesting shade was blue. It reminded him of the ocean, and one of his most precious memories that had been made there

"What about those blue roses?" He asked

"These can symbolize uniqueness, or things that are impossible. It's like they were made for Sonic," Amy replied as she crouched down to the earth to get a closer look at them. "Heh, but that's just my opinion. What do you think of them?"

While the color of the flowers had immediately brought water into his mind, hearing about the impossible made him think of the fact that he was standing here in this moment, thinking about this at all. Not just because of the miracle of time travel, but also because of how harsh the world he'd been in for so long was. All it would've taken was for one of Silver's many near misses to have not been a near miss, and he never would've been able to see the past. Surviving for long certainly seemed impossible at the time, let alone changing the world. But here he was, able to relax, with his future no longer desolate. Telling Amy all of what he said verbatim would probably drag the mood down a little, so he decided to just state the last part instead

"It seemed impossible for things to ever change," Silver began explaining. "But once I was brought back here, I was able to fix everything. Now my future is just as beautiful as this place is"

"That's amazing to hear, Silver. It's good to know that even 200 years from now, this world will still be full of life," Amy complimented him. "Are the plants from your future anything like the ones here?"

"Uhh, I think so? I haven't seen too many from either time yet, so it's hard to know if anything I see is unique to that period or not"

"I see. Next time, you should describe some of your future plants to me, and I can tell you if they're ones that exist in this time. Maybe you could even bring one back, it would be fascinating to see"

"Oh, um, I'm not sure if I can, it could mess things up. I guess I could fix things even if they did go wrong, but-"

"No, you're right, I wasn't thinking about it. Let's get back to the flowers that are in front of us now, which ones are catching your eye?"

The green roses were the first ones that Silver thought of this time around, they almost looked like immature sprouts that hadn't finished growing yet, but they were the same size as everything else. A flower lacking the vibrant splash of color that it usually had at the top, and instead having the same color as its less treasured parts such as the leaves, had a lot of potential for interesting meanings. Plus, in the event that his thought about the green roses not being finished growing was true, it would lead to the just as interesting revelation that these ones would end up being much larger than all of the others

"What's up with the green ones?" Silver asked, phrasing it so that the answer would tell him which one of his assumptions about them was right

"They mostly mean life and abundance. Perfect for a day like this, right?" Amy remarked

He took a second to look up into the sky as well as into the street behind him, and saw that she was very right. Life stretched far past Amy's yard, it was in the skies above them as Flickies flew overhead, and in the streets behind them as people went about their day walking to who knew where

"Abundance… yeah!" Silver exclaimed. "That's the perfect word for what the past is like, there's so much stuff here. Every day I'm here, I see a bunch of new things"

"Did you see anything new today on your way here?" She asked

"I did! I passed by a bakery, and I saw these little colorful things that had cream in the center, and the outsides were kind of like little cookies"

"Oh, you mean macarons? Those are really good, did you get to try one?"

"I actually did, I asked the person eating them if I could have one, and they handed it to me. It was super sweet, I wish I could've had more, but I didn't want to be rude"

"Well, if you want to have more, we could always go to there ourselves and order some next time"

"That would be fantastic, I love visiting restaurants! It seems like there's infinite choices, and all of them are delicious"

"Yeah, the places here all have a lot on the menu, even I haven't tried all of them yet. Say, what's your favorite thing you've had so far?"

"It was this amazing apple pie I ate at a bakery. Back in the future, I ate a lot of old ration bars, the best ones were the apple flavored ones. The closest I ever felt to being in a natural world was when I ate one of them, but then when I had that pie, it was like experiencing that times a million. It was the first time I felt something familiar in a new way, instead of something completely new"

"Wow, if I'd only gotten to have things flavored like fruit my whole life before getting to eat the real thing too, it would probably have been as magical as you were describing. Did you have anything with the pie?"

"Nope. What do people usually have with it?"

"The most popular toppings are vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. It's actually kind of funny, since they're both like you"

"Huh? How are they like me?"

"They're both white like your fur, and they're both really sweet"

"Aww, thank you!"

"No problem!"

Since Silver was now thinking about things that looked similar to him, when he looked back to the garden after the conversation had died down, he immediately thought of the white roses. Like vanilla ice cream and whipped cream (supposedly), the petals did look a lot like his fur, he would probably be able to hide pretty well behind all of them if he needed to. While their potential hide and seek applications were fun to think about, Silver was also even more curious about what they could mean than he'd been about the other two. If they looked like him, would they have meanings that reflected him?

"What meanings do the white roses have?" He chose, silently beginning to get a bit excited as his anticipation grew

"These can stand for a lot of things, but some of the most prevalent meanings are innocence, loyalty, and new beginnings," Amy shared. "They're mostly used at weddings, but I think with meanings like those, they're good for a lot of events"

"New beginnings, huh?"

"Yep! I bet that makes you think of traveling back here for the first time, doesn't it?"

"How did you know that?"

"Oh, I just guessed based on what you've told me before. Good to know my guess was right!"

"Well, you only guessed half of it"

"Hm?"

"My other new beginning was meeting you"

The answer caught Amy off guard. She hadn't thought that she'd had that much of an impact on Silver, she just treated him the same way she did to everyone else. Knowing that her meeting with him was apparently so important that he considered it the start of a new chapter in his life made her feel a deep happiness, followed by a small bit of curiosity

"Really?" Amy asked, still a bit shocked

"It's true," Silver began. "The first person who I ever felt a real connection with was Espio, but since we were working together to save the future, I thought it was just because of our shared goal. But then, the next time I went back here, you saw me. You didn't know why I was here, or even who I was, but you were so nice to me… It made me realize the truth. Espio, Shadow, everyone else; they weren't being kind for the sake of the future, it was because they cared about me"

"Wow. That's… really something. I'm glad that I was able to help you"

"I'm glad about it too"

As Silver reminisced about the change that his meeting with Amy had brought to him, he was facing her, since he had just finished a conversation. However, since it was followed by a short period of silence while both were busy thinking about that information, his eyes went back to the flowerbed

It was just a default position at this point, since he had previously looked at it a lot in order to make his choices for rose variants to learn about. Spending time in silence instead of asking about that, though, made him notice a part of the rose other than their colors: their thorns

The first time Silver saw a rose, he'd grabbed it with his hand in his excitement, and it pierced through his glove into his hand. Even though it had drawn blood, it still had the same gorgeous appearance that had drawn him to it in the first place, so he chose not to leave it behind. Instead, he grabbed it gently with his psychokinesis, and carried it beside him as he walked and floated across the land

Everyone he'd met during his times chasing Eggman Nega, he'd been rude and harsh to at one point or another. While Espio was the only one who had brushed it off and followed him at the time, he had seen all of the others at later points, and they all seemed to at least tolerate him. Maybe it was because they had been told he wasn't actually that bad by Espio, or maybe it was because his urgency during his first time saving the future had faded, and no longer forced him to push everyone out of his path. Maybe it was both

Suddenly, Silver snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that Amy had moved over to the garden in front of them again. Unlike last time, though, she was plucking a rose from the dirt instead of just looking at them. It was yellow, close to his bracelets and eyes, although not exactly like either of them

"Oh, you're picking them now? That's fine, I wanted to hear about the yellow ones next anyways," Silver said as Amy turned around to face him, slightly confused

"I'm giving it to you, silly!" She explained as she stretched out her arm for Silver to take it. "Yellow roses symbolize friendship. You looked so happy seeing all these roses here, so I figured this would be a great gift for you"

"You'd… really do that for me? We're friends?" He asked, sounding very touched

"Of course we are! I know we haven't known each other for so long, but every time we talk, it's so enjoyable. You just have so much love for this world, and you share it with everyone you're around. Whenever you talk about how amazed you are by something I see everyday, it reminds me of just how great this place really is, of what I fight to protect"

Silver didn't respond verbally at this point, as he was a little overwhelmed by just how kind Amy had been to him, but tears welling up in the corners of his eyes showed he appreciated it very much. Remembering the lesson he had learned before, he held his hand forward and gently encircled the flower with his psychokinesis, lifting it out of Amy's hand and bringing it close to his side

"Thank you," he managed to choke out. "Thank you so much. I'm going to take the best care of this as I can"

"Maybe you could even start your own garden someday," Amy suggested.

"That would be fantastic," He replied, before turning to look at the lone plant. "But for now, I've got to take care of this"

"I understand. It was great hanging out with you today, hope I can see you again soon!"

"Me too. Bye, Amy"

"Bye, Silver!"

With that, Silver flew off similarly to how he had arrived. Amy was left in her yard next to the garden that she had just taken her gift to Silver from, and thought about the future. There was no way she'd be alive to take care of it in Silver's time, so it would likely have disappeared long before then. However, even if the garden she was standing next to would eventually fade away, she knew there would still be one like it 200 years from now. A very beautiful, and very yellow, garden of roses

#Sth #Silver the Hedgehog #Amy Rose #Krafter Writes

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a-god-in-ruins-rises · 9 months

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If you had to pick a single god as patron of America who would you pick?

oh interesting question.

there are a few gods that come to mind for consideration....

obviously liberty/libertas is the first that jumps out at me. i mean, america is all about liberty and we already have "lady liberty" as a national symbol anyway.

then there is athena/minerva. classical goddess of civilization, wisdom and war, etc. america is a beacon of civilization and excels in warfare. apollo is another god of civilization i'd consider.

then there's saturn(/pan/dionysus). i wrote a schizopost a long time ago about how i think saturn(/pan/dionysus) is the god of america. but it was pretty esoteric and i can't get into all that right now.

but the god that is perhaps most straightforward? mithras. it's really perfect. a judicious all-seeing solar god of contracts, covenants, and friendship. what better god for a solar civilization like ours? especially one explicitly based on the rule of law, the social contract, covenants like the constitution, and brotherly love and friendship? one whose great seal features an all-seeing eye? perhaps the all-seeing eye of ever-vigilant, oathkeeping mithras?

a god whose cult membership included soldiers, aristocrats, merchants, bureaucrats, slaves, and freedmen alike. this reflects the aristocratic-egalitarianism of our own country.

mithras is born leaping from a stone, already in his youth full if vigor and vitality, dagger in one hand, ever-ready for battle, and a torch in the other, a shining light in the darkness illuminating his way. he is nude except for a phrygian cap. this myth mirrors that of our own nation's founding, leaping from the soil of this sacred land we're bound to and the nature we revere, full of youthful dynamism and revolutionary fervor, literally forged in a crucible of war and overflowing with shining light. also the phyrgian cap has been one of america's symbols from the beginning.

then the tauroctony, the symbolic bull-slaying. in this scene mithras wrestles and subdues a great beast and slaughters it. in exchange, bounty and abundance springs from its wounds and brings life and flourishing in return for this sacrifice. this is reminiscent of america's own conquest of the once-untamed land we now occupy and which provides us with abundance and plenty, rewards for our struggle and sacrifice.

sol invictus, the unconquerable sun, patron over the greatest empire to ever exist. the solar spirit courses through our people's veins, igniting our passions, fueling our ambition, and illuminating our path toward our glorious destiny. america stands before us, a shining city upon a hill, forever pushing through the darkness, resilient in the face of adversity, and determined to illuminate the world.

the very foundations of our nation's capital were laid out with reverence to the sun's path, paying homage to the cosmic source of life and energy. our forefathers understood that this symbolic gesture was more than just a geographical arrangement; it was a testament to our nation's destiny as a solar empire, a land where the rays of freedom and opportunity would shine upon all who sought refuge here.

let us remember that as children of the sun, we carry the spirit of sol invictus within us. let us stand proudly as guardians of the sacred flame of liberty that mithras has ignited within us. let the brilliance of enlightenment be our guiding lights as we journey forward. may we rise each day with the same unyielding determination as the sun, illuminating the world with our noble virtues, and forging an america that stands as a beacon of hope, strength, and unwavering spirit—a true solar empire.

#we are sons of liberty #which is abbreviated as sol #coincidence? i think not #plus mithras has connections to saturn to boot

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ljsstories · 2 years

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Prologue

In the beginning there was man, and that is how it all began. The truth is, there was indeed a man, his name was even Adam, but he did not begin his life with Eve, far from it. He wasn't even the first human created, Lilith was made first from the soil of the Earth! God had a plan, he didn't really think it through, when Lilith was plopped into the Garden he gave her Adam, also from the soil, to populate the world. Sadly Adam didn't seem to bond with Lilith and their children were not as God had expected, so he banished her and their children and made another human named, you guessed it, Eve. He used one of Adam's ribs to create this symbol of womanhood, and Adam fell for her instantly. He wasn't the only one though! While God was busy playing with his new toys, his son Lucifer grew tired of his father's many schemes. Most of the time, Lucifer is portrayed as blond with piercing blue eyes and always extremely beautiful. That depiction is mostly true, except he isn't blond, his hair is very dark, almost as black as the night sky, and it only makes his blue eyes seem even more mesmerising. His beauty often hides his darker side, he wasn't evil to begin with, even now he's not truly evil, he's just totally jaded, bitter and cynical. Back when God was making his little planet called Earth, Lucifer's dislike of humanity started because of delusions of grandeur and his arrogance. Being instructed to bow down to these lesser beings was a step too far for him and he rebelled against his Father when he was told to show them respect and to treat them as equals...that was until Lucifer laid eyes on Eve, a human, you see the true reason that Lucifer was cast out of heaven and banished to hell was down to a simple act of lust...but if you ask him, he calls it love.

Like many of the other archangels, Lucifer possessed skills and certain powers, all of his siblings had different "party tricks" and Lucifer's favourite was shape shifting, in particular transforming into a serpent. Now the Garden was almost impossible to get into if you were an angel, God's creatures however, well they got a free pass. And so Lucifer was granted entry in his serpent form, he just wanted to see Eve in the flesh, just a little peek. She was so cute in her little fig leaf outfit, her long brown hair and hourglass figure. Lucifer's only obstacle now was Adam, the big dumb smelly human that she was living in the Garden with. Lucifer visited a few times before he made actual contact with the object of his affection. God had told Adam and Eve not to touch the fruit that grew on the largest tree in the Garden, they happily obeyed and the tree remained in perfect condition, never picked...until one fateful day. Lucifer watched Eve fawn over stupid Adam, even bear his children, it drove him mad. She only had eyes for him, he was a handsome specimen, even Lucifer could appreciate how aesthetically pleasing he was. During his constant visits to the Garden, Lucifer's older brother, Michael, grew suspicious of him and where he was disappearing to. Archangels rarely left heaven and when they did it was under God's instruction, but young Luci was always rebellious and wasn't one for following the rules. He had already devised his plan to attract Eve and make her his forever, he just needed to deal with the dumb blond who's whole life was controlled by the organ in his fig leaf and not the one in his head. Lilith, now roaming the Earth and transformed into something demonic and vengeful outside the Garden, was easy to manipulate, Lucifer promised her Adam if she would just help him get Eve out of the Garden to be with him, and in return Lilith could take her rightful place beside her husband. There was only one problem with this plan, Lilith didn't want Adam back, she wanted him dead. Luci wasn't bothered how she distracted him, as long as he got Eve it was of no interest to him. The only problem with his plan was that Adam would be banished but there was nothing stopping God from creating another human for Eve, so Lucifer had to make sure she would be banished too. Bring on the fateful day!

Lucifer slithered into the garden and sat at Eve's feet, when her head was turned he transformed into his angelic form and startled her. She looked him up and down, "Who are you? You're not Adam!"

"No!" He replied, Lucifer felt tongue-tied and shy, something he'd never experienced before, "I'm Lucifer, and I have a gift for you!" He produced the Forbidden Fruit from behind his back as Eve gasped.

"Oh no, where did you...we're not supposed to touch that! It is forbidden!"

"It's okay, my dad owns this place, he won't mind!"

"So...you're an angel?" Eve's wide eyes scanned his face. Lucifer smiled bashfully, unable to meet her gaze.

"Better!" He mumbled, "I'm an archangel!" With a smirk he thrust the fruit under her nose, "Go on, have a bite!" He winked at her, seeing her eyes sparkle at the prospect. She really wanted to, he could tell. It took a few moments, but then Eve took the fruit from Lucifer and pressed it to her lips, staring him in the eyes for an age, she finally bit into it as the juices trickled down either side of her mouth, "Good huh?" Lucifer nodded with a huge smile, she was his now, there was no way his Father would ever forgive this!

"Mmm!" Eve murmured, swallowing down the bite of fruit, wide eyed, she turned heel with a squeak and announced, "I have to tell Adam, he'll love this!" Lucifer groaned then he was hit with a realisation, if she went to Adam...

"Noooo, wait!" He called to her lazily, "Don't do thaaaat!" Stifling a laugh, he watched as she skipped into the little forest where they slept, passing children running around, the two older ones, Cain and Abel, bickered and threw fists at one another, a regular occurrence, as their mother called out to their father...

"Adam!" Eve exclaimed as she reached the little alcove, "Adam you have to taste this it's..." Her words got caught in her throat as she was met with a horrific sight, Adam being straddled by some sort of hideous female creature, "A-a-a d-demon!" She exclaimed and backed into something solid, Lucifer.

As Lilith continued to writhe and moan atop of Adam, he desperately tried to free himself from underneath her. "Eve!" He panted, as his attempts to push Lilith aside were to no avail.

"No-no-no, it's a demon!" Eve cried, as Lucifer took hold of her arms and tried to calm her. Lilith produced a dagger and raised it above Adam's heart, but before she could deal the fateful blow, he managed to escape from under her and ran to Eve.

However it was too late! Adam vanished, Eve screamed, then Lilith vanished too. Only she and Lucifer remained, until he also disappeared while exclaiming "Oh sh-..." Adam's punishment for committing adultery was to roam the earth outside the garden with Lilith and their children. Eve was severely reprimanded and sent back to the Garden to raise her children, and Lucifer...

Well we all know the story, or do we? Lucifer was brutally punished by God, his Father, and under his orders, had his wings clipped by Michael. He was then cast out of Heaven, falling to earth, but he didn't stop there. God gave him a job, one that no archangel or demon wanted, the job of overseeing Hell! As Lucifer landed on the burning ground of the Underworld, dragging his body up he shapeshifted one last time. The beautiful blue eyed archangel known as Lucifer was now a red skinned, cloven hooved, horned monster consumed with bitterness and rage. His heart broken and his body bruised, he could no longer be Lucifer the archangel, he was now reborn...into Satan!

Next⏭️

#TheDevilsDeal #writeblr #writerblr #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #wattpad #story #story telling

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adobe-outdesign · 3 years

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Pokemon Worldbuilding Headcanons

Exactly what it says in the title. Some are based on the game, some on the anime, and some directly contradict both because the Pokemon lore is made up and your feelings don’t matter.

Biology

Pokemon heal faster when unconscious or asleep--thus, they faint easily from pain or exhaustion in order to recuperate.

During evolution, a Pokemon converts itself into energy and reforms itself. Evolution is optional, and a Pokemon can choose if and when it evolves. Evolution is triggered by both an environmental circumstance (ex: winning a battle), and by the Pokemon storing up energy over time until it has enough to transform.

Stress evolutions are when a Pokemon evolves prematurally in order to win a battle or when they’re in a life-or-death situation. This can result in the evolution being smaller than normal and possibly weaker as well.

“Trade evolutions” are a loose grouping of Pokemon that typically evolve when they start working with a new trainer. The exact reasons for the evolution varies by individual, and therefore can have multiple causes.

Ex: a Pokemon may evolve after it learns something from someone else. While the easiest way to achieve this is through trade, they may also evolve by training under a wiser, older Pokemon.

Trade evolutions are somewhat rare in the wild, but not unheard of.

Pokemon that evolve via stones cannot store enough energy to evolve naturally. The stones contain extra energy that they can tap into in order to aid in evolution.

Everstones work similar to sponges; they absorb the extra energy a Pokemon would normally store up to evolve, thus preventing them from doing so. They’re mostly used for medical purposes (as a Pokemon evolving when badly injured could worsen its injuries) and to help prevent stress evolutions in Pokemon that don’t want to evolve.

Pokemon types are based on the type of energy they utilize, rather than moves or appearance. Ex: Charizard is not dragon-type despite looking like a dragon because it doesn’t use dragon-type energy. New energies are discovered all the time and Pokemon are reclassified as needed.

Pokemon typing also changes as they (Darwinian) evolve. A Pokemon that’s normal/grass used to be normal-type, has started to gain grass-typing, and will eventually be only grass-type.

Humans are descended from Pokemon. They used to be psychic-type before becoming normal-type and then losing their typing all together. At this point they no longer are energy-based nor do they lay eggs, so they’re considered a separate-but-related family.

This is why some people still show psychic powers; those abilities never completely went away in some bloodlines.

Pokemon have been domesticated for so long that there’s actually no such thing as a “wild” Pokemon anymore (with the exception of legendaries). Wild Pokemon are technically feral, and any given Pokemon will quickly adapt to living with humans if caught.

Pokemon used to look different hundreds of years ago, and have slowly undergone Darwinian evolution over time as they were domesticated.

“Most trainers will legendaries shortly after their journey starts” statistic false. Most trainers will see no legendaries in their lifetimes. Ash Ketchum, who’s seen every single legendary in existence, is an outlier and should not be counted

However, areas where legendaries are known to live are oftentimes marked as no-catch conservation areas. People will oftentime travel to these parks to admire “common” legendaries (such as the bird trio) in their natural habitats.

Battles

Not knocking out a Pokemon you’re trying to capture is more of a honored rule than a law. The reason it’s done is to give the Pokemon ample time to flee--otherwise, someone may one-shot a Pokemon that doesn’t want a trainer, resulting in the Pokemon being unfairly knocked out and the trainer wasting their time.

If you give the Pokemon time to flee and it chooses to stay and fight, it’s potentially interested in accepting you as a trainer and you just have to prove yourself. If it flees, you should leave it alone.

Pokemon used for battles are specifically trained to not cause permanent harm or injury to their opponents (ex: that fire blast isn’t as hot as it could be, so it’ll only cause minor burns instead of third-degree ones). While the attacks used might look violent and cause some pain, serious injuries are very rare.

Wild Pokemon are also pretty good at restraining themselves if they’re just battling for fun or to test a trainer. They will not, however, restrain themselves if they feel threatened or are hunting. Trainers are advised to use caution when fighting wild Pokemon and return their Pokemon to their balls if necessary.

Psychic-types (Mr. Mime especially) are used to create protective barriers around arenas/trainers to protect people from flying debris and stray attacks.

Refs always have a few Pokemon on hand that know moves like stun spore or sleep powder in order to stop any fights that get out of hand.

Pokeballs

While some trainers different Pokemon by using different types of Pokeballs, decorating them is also a popular way to do it. Some people draw symbols or initials on the buttons, some add stickers, some paint them, ect.

Stores also sell semi-transparent hard shells that snap over the balls. These come in different colors and designs, so you can have a Pokeball that has a galaxy design on top instead of plain red if you want.

Most trainers keep about 40 some Pokemon or less, which they rotate between their party, the PC, and daycares/Pokemon sitters to keep them enriched and active. Some people keep more, but they generally spend all of their time caring for them and therefore aren’t trainers.

The general rule of thumb is to not leave a Pokemon in the PC for more than two weeks. If you fail to take them out after a month, they will be automatically removed and released back into the wild.

Pokeballs create little miniature simulations of nature, making them feel bigger on the inside. Different types of pokeballs have different or more advanced simulations, which may increase how much a Pokemon likes being in it.

Pokeballs create an invisible “tag” for the Pokemon by altering their energy when they’re first caught. These tags affect nothing, but Pokeballs are programmed to automatically check for one before they’ll activate.

Many poachers and other illegal groups produce their own illegal Pokeballs that do not check for tags before capture.

If a Pokeball breaks, it automatically releases the Pokemon inside and removes their tag.

Tags fade after about a month to allow for other trainers to capture a Pokemon after it’s been permanently released. The tag is automatically refreshed every time a Pokemon is brought back into its ball.

The standard Pokeball pattern is based off of the patterns of the Foongus line. Pokemon are very attracted to their markings, so the balls are painted the same to make the Pokemon like them more.

Eggs

Rather than combining genetics, Pokemon reproduce by combining their energy together (this looks a bit like two Pokemon evolving at the same time). Because of this, they lack reproductive organs and chromosomes.

Gender is a loosely defined concept for them. Pokemon can change their sex upon evolution if they want to, and some will change their sex over time (ex: legendaries are usually genderless, but will gain a sex to breed and then lose it again afterward).

If a Pokemon doesn’t display sexual dimorphism, the only way to determine their sex is to have a Pokemon Center do a blood test.

Eggs aren’t laid, but created. The pregnant Pokemon fosters energy in their body. When ready they separate the extra energy from themselves (once again, looks a bit like evolution), which forms into the egg. This causes them no pain, and means they have short gestation periods.

This also means Pokemon never look pregnant. The only way to tell is by getting them tested or paying attention to changes in behavior. Many trainers end up with eggs out of nowhere because they had no idea one of their Pokemon was pregnant to begin with.

In the wild, some species of Pokemon will lay hundreds of eggs (such as fish and bug Pokemon) to ensure their survival. In captivity, Pokemon rarely create more than 1 or 2 eggs at a time, likely because they understand their young are safe with their trainers.

Pokemon develop more quickly in their eggs than IRL animals. They can technically hatch shortly after the egg is made, but they usually spend extra time inside maturing. By the time the egg hatches, the baby already has fur/feathers/whatever, and can walk and eat solid food. This helps ensure their survival against predators.

Young Pokemon are differentiated by being “mature” or “immature”; an immature Pokemon will still gradually grow and change appearance, while a mature one is fully grown until it evolves. A Pokemon cannot evolve until it’s considered mature (excluding mega evolution for single-stagers).

To use Vulpix as a canon example: a newly hatched immature Vulpix is about 8 in tall and has one white tail. A mature Vulpix is about 2 ft tall and has six red tails.

In the wild, Pokemon mostly breed amongst their own species. The exception are Pokemon with uneven gender ratios (so if a Pokemon is 7:1 male vs female, the males will actively breed with anything in their egg group). Inter-species breeding among captive Pokemon is much more common, and usually based on the Pokemon’s personal preferences.

Hybridization in Pokemon born from two different parents is very rare, but it does happen from time to time. It’s more common in Pokemon that look similar or are distantly related.

“Perfect” hybrids, Pokemon that have equal amounts of traits from both parents as well as typing and abilities, are more sought after than shinies. They usually can’t breed due to their mix of energies.

#pokemon #pkmn #pokemon headcanons #outdesign posts things #outdesign has headcanons #god I hope this is somewhat coherent #I tried to stick the lore to some extent but the lore is also. kind of a mess

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valkerymillenia · 2 years

Text

The Batman (2022)

Ok, so here's my non spoilery opinion on the movie.

It's good. It's very, very good.

Forget everything you watched on the trailers, they do not do the movie any justice.

First of all, they don't beat that dead horse again. Aka, we don't have to see the Wayne's die for the millionth time.

Second of all, both Pattison and Reeves understood the assignment.

This is a movie that was clearly written and directed by a comic book reader, it comes across well, not only in the way it's adapted and the characterization of the characters but also in all the subtle references and all the foreshadowing constantly being dropped.

It's also definitely not for children/younger audiences. And the fact that it's not constrained by the DCEU's family-friendly policies really shows. The old Comics Authority would have a field day with this movie

But, moving on...

The first thing you have to bear in mind is that this is a portrayal of a Batman that is young and still fairly new to his role, he has been at it long enough to be extremely effective and win over Gordon's trust but he's still very green emotionally, still discovering himself and his role and growing as a character.

We also see a return to Batman's true origins- the detective and the cryptid, long before he became just another fighting machine (although he still is an excellent fighter and absolutely brutal).

Robert Pattison delivered a very good portrayal of the character, the use of silence and anti social behavior were perfect (very emo but absolutely a young Bruce Wayne), as was his level of intelligence and his single-minded attitude. He clearly understands Bruce Wayne on a level other actors have not (perhaps because he actually reads the comics).

Zoe Kravitz also delivers an excellent performance as Selina, and for once we get a Selina that is actually her own character with her own development instead of just a sexy prop or supporting character for Batman. She's also at the beginning of her career and quite faithful to the essence of her comic roots (although with some twists).

Riddler is fantastic. If you are used to cartoony flamboyant Riddler or Jim Carrey's over-the-top Riddler, forget it. If you are used to awkward and nerdy but hyper competent, extremely intelligent, ruthless, death-trap loving Riddler from the comics though? You're going to love this guy.

Penguin's characterization is good. Very good. I can't go into more without being spoilery.

The visuals and editing are stunning, is it dark and gritty? Yes, it is, but not in the boring, minimalistic, militaristic, too real, dull grey of the Nolan movies, instead it's simply very modern gothic and the use of color is very well thought out, exactly what you'd expect from Gotham.

The music is good, I won't say it's phenomenal, it might not stick with you afterwards, but it's still very good and works really well to complement the scenes.

The wardrobe in general is excellent without being over the top (unless it has to be). And after seeing it in a different light, Pattison's mask is definitely a nod to Adam West's Batman in 66, the disassembled gun bat symbol is dramatic as hell but it actually works really well.

In my humble opinion it might be one of the best Batman interpretations in modern live action (I'm sorry, Keaton, my darling).

Is it perfect? No, no movie is.

But it's still very good and it has POTENTIAL to be so much more, Reeves gave us a lot of foreshadowing and laid down a lot of ground work for sequels that I honestly hope get green-lit but I can't discuss that without spoilers so I'll leave that in a separate review.

#Batman #the batman 2022 #Robert Pattison #remember this is my personal opinion #battison #DC

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Text

Wanna Make A Baby?

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: Older!Harry, dad!Harry, small!Y/n, and breeding kink all rolled into one The fluff is adorable and the filth is filthyyy! Enjoy🙃

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to dream. He dreamt just about every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Dreaming was actually one of the highlights of his night. The first was being able to sleep next to you, and the second would be dreaming. When it came to the subject matter of his dreams, it varied every time. The only constant in his dreams would be you; that’s why he loved it so much. You’d be there right by his side doing whatever you were ‘supposed’ to be doing in his dream. At times, dreaming was a way for his mind to reveal his deepest thoughts and desires. And that’s what was happening this go round with Harry.

In his dream you were there(of course), along with himself and two other people. As he walks out of the backdoor to you guys’ home and into the spacious backyard, his eyes go straight to a play structure that was in his line of sight. As he emerges from the house even more, he hears a small voice calling out to him. When Harry looks in the direction of the voice, he sees a small child coming down the slide of the large play structure with a big smile plastered across his face. Once the little boy is back on the ground, he immediately sprints over to Harry. While the boy is running over to his father, Harry crouches down so that he’d be on the little boys level and he waits for him. As the boy approaches, Harry’s able to get a better view of his features and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This boy, which Harry confidently presumed to he his son had just about every feature he had when he was that small. The only things that were missing were the straight blonde hair, and the green eyes. Those features were replaced by yours and he couldn’t be happier about that. After talking to the little boy, he agrees to play with him before pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek and sending him on his way so that he could talk to you for a moment.

As the little boy runs back to the play structure, Harry stands back up and looks to his right, he sees you sitting contently in the shaded lounge area of you guys’ backyard. You had a book in one hand, while the other was delicately placed upon your very swollen and pregnant belly. There were no words that could be used by Harry to effectively and accurately describe the beauty that was radiating off of you. He would talk about how pretty you’d look if you were pregnant but now he was seeing it. The sight of you captivated Harry and drew him in. As he got closer and closer, Harry was able to fully take all of you in. He got to see every little detail. When he was right in front of you, he got to see the small floral print that was littered across your flowy dress. He was able to see your more rounded facial features better. And most importantly, Harry got to see your left hand that was adorned with the glistening diamond ring and wedding band he’d put on your finger almost three years ago resting right on top of the swell of your belly that was temporarily housing his child. He had the perfect view of the two things that symbolized your love for one another. Harry then sits down next to you and he sponges a light kiss to your exposed shoulder. Him doing this results in you sending a soft smile in his direction, which fills his body with a warm feeling. Harry then does the thing that he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on you. He lifts his hand and brings it up to lower it down onto the upper curve your belly.

Unfortunately, the moment he places his hand on your belly, is the exact moment he wakes up. His eyes shoot open and he’s instantly transported back to reality. He’s in the bed that he was lucky enough to share with you. Once his breathing stabilizes a bit and he takes in his surroundings, Harry’s hand begin to wander. He slowly but surely pulls his arm that was draped across your frame up and he begins to push his hand around your midsection. As he does this, he’s actively searching for some type of a bump. Even if it was a small one. To make sure his mind or hand wasn’t playing tricks on him, Harry brings it all the way up to your side and glides it down to where the lower hem of the shirt you were wearing began. He pushes his hand beneath the fabric and brings it back down to your stomach. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that you weren’t in fact pregnant and that it was all just a dream.

That’s the one thing Harry hated about dreams; you always wake up at the best part. When he came to the realization that you weren’t pregnant, his heart sank a little. He didn’t realize how much he wanted his own little family until now. He wanted to watch your body swell as you carried his child. He wanted to watch you be the best mother in the entire world. He wanted to have a child of his own that he could shower with love and affection. Harry wanted to be a dad and wanted to have every last thing he had in his dream. But he didn’t want to have to sleep in order to get it. In that moment, Harry felt like everything was taken from him. The only thing that he had left from that dream is you. This feeling inadvertently caused Harry to tighten his grip on you. Even though he didn’t want to wake you, Harry needed you more than ever right now. He buries his face into your neck and he begins to pepper soft kisses into your skin. He also coos softly into your ear for you to wake up. And it did do the trick.

“What’s going on?” You grumble through your sleep. You could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel Harry’s mouth moving against your neck and his arm around your waist.

“Just wanted t’say hello to my beautiful wife.” Harry hums, continuing to keep his face burrowed in your neck. Even though you were one of the sweetest human beings Harry’d ever met, you were still a bit cranky in the morning. And since he intentionally woke you up, he had a little bit of schmoozing to do.

“Well it better not be before 8 am, because if it is I’ll kill you.” You grumble back to him, moving around a little bit so you could turn yourself towards him.

“If I tell you that it’s 8:01 will you still kill me?” Harry asks jokingly (kind of).

“I guess you’re safe.” You concede through a yawn, pushing yourself further into his body.

“Good, and it’s actually quarter past 10.” Harry continues, looking over at the clock sitting on your bedside table for the actual time.

“You’re in the safe zone now.” You hum happily. “How’d you sleep?” You continue, beginning to feel awake enough to have a conversation with Harry.

“Slept fine, but I had a pretty interesting dream though.” Harry simply replies.

“Tell me about it.” You say back, lifting one of your legs and swinging it over his waist. You then push yourself up and over so that you’re sitting on his lap on top of him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Harry admires, sliding his hands up underneath your shirt to latch onto your hips.

“I think so, but I’m always open for compliments.” You smirk, bringing your face down to his.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Harry hums back, slightly lifting his head to peck your lips.

“Thank you baby.” You coo softly. “Now tell me about your dream.” You say excitedly, lifting yourself back up to sit in his lap. Even though you were still a bit tired, you didn’t want to stop talking to Harry.

“Alright.” Harry sighs, removing one of his hands that were on your hips to help lift himself up a bit. “So to make a long story short, we had a family. We had an adorable son who looked like the both of us, more like me, but still like the both of us, and you were pregnant. Which by the way, you looked even more stunning than I could’ve possibly imagined.” Harry explains, deciding to just give you a quick rundown of his dream rather than go through every last detail.

“That sounds nice babe.” You sigh softly, taking in everything he just said to you. Hearing him talk (and dream) about starting a family with you really warmed your heart. From the onset of you guys’ relationship you knew that you wanted to have a family with Harry. But now after being together for a total of almost 4 years and being married for about a year and a half of them, you were starting to realize that you and Harry were ready to take that next step in your lives and relationship.

“Yeah, but it made me think a bit more and I’m starting to feel like m’running out of time.” Harry says on a more sorrowful, but truthful note.

“I thought the little guys never expire.” You reply, trying to get a better idea of where Harry was coming from. You weren’t expecting such a good and happy dream to make him sad like this.

“I mean late in life Y/n. M’getting older.” Harry explains further with a slightly frustrated huff.

“You’re in your 30’s Harry.” You say in an attempt to reassure him.

“Yeah, but 40 is right around the corner.” He reminds you.

“Then you’ll be a dilf.” You reply, trying to show him the bright side of getting a little older.

“You’re right, I would be a hot dad.” Harry agrees.

“Exactly! So being a dad a little bit later in life isn’t so bad babe.” You reason, trying to cheer him up a bit more. You wanted him to really know that there was nothing wrong with being a dad at his age. You weren’t going to tell him this because if you did his head would swell to be the size of an actual planet (even though it wouldn’t take that much considering that he already had a pretty sizable head; upstairs and downstairs), but you thought that him being a bit older than you and being a first time dad was pretty hot. You couldn’t put your finger on why exactly you thought it was hot but you just did. Add onto that the fact that you’re married to him and you have successfully opened the floodgates.

“You’d be an even hotter mom though. Like milf to the highest power.” Harry says bluntly.

“Well thank you for your honesty.” You chuckle (and not so secretly roll your eyes) at his statement. After being with Harry for as long as you have, you weren’t shocked in the slightest at his comment. Him not making a comment like that would be more shocking.

“M’serious babe! You’d even be a milf before the baby even arrived. Like your body is already perfect now, but just imagine how much more perfect you’d look with our baby in here.” Harry rations as he ever so slightly presses his thumbs into the sides of your lower stomach . “You’d be nice and round and delicious. Y’know how much I like having something to grab onto.” He continues. As he talks, his hands move up your sides and right to your chest where he wraps his large hands around your breasts.

“Well those won’t be yours anymore.” You say sternly to him before smacking his hands away through your shirt.

“What about this?” He asks, gliding his hands back down and around to your ass.

“You can keep that for yourself I guess.” You sigh in compliance. “I swear, it’s so hard sometimes to figure out who’s the oldest in this relationship. For a man thats knocking on 40’s door, I’d expect you to be a little more tame.”

“What can I say.” Harry begins, tightening his grip on the flesh of your ass before pulling you higher up onto his lap. “I just have a hot wife. Like your personality is amazing and I love you so much for being the sweetest human being alive but you’re gorgeous. I can honestly say that m’gonna want you ten times as much as I already do once you’re actually pregnant.” Harry’s says truthfully. The both of you couldn’t deny that he was in fact telling truth. There were a couple times where he accidentally blurted out how bad he wanted to get you pregnant.

“Are you just saying all this because you wanna knock me up?” You ask him playfully.

“Is it working?” Harry asks in response to your question. He meant every last word that came out of his mouth, but he was hoping that it’d soften you up a bit so that you’d give him the green light when it came to commencing the baby making process.

“Maybe, but you still have a little ways to go.” Now you were just fishing for some praise; and rightfully so. Harry always wanted to hear you praise him. Whether it be in the form of moans, screams, and/or whimpers, or in the form of words; Harry just loved to be praised. Now it was your turn.

“You’d look so beautiful baby. You’re absolutely glowing and gorgeous now, but you’d have an unmatched glow once you’re pregnant.” Harry explains in awe, continuing his “campaign” to butter you up. He honestly couldn’t believe that your already elevated level of beauty could be raised. “But if I’m being honest, m’gonna miss y’tummy like this.” Harry explains the ‘downside’ to your more rounded figure during pregnancy.

“Why’s that?” You ask confusedly. One minuet he was saying how much more beautiful you’d be if you were pregnant, and now he’s saying that he’s gonna miss your figure now. Which one was it?!

“M’just gonna miss seeing and feeling my cock in y’little tummy. Y’still gonna be irresistible, m’just gonna miss that.” He explains.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll feel it in there. I always do.” You reply to him. When you say that, Harry can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in there?” Harry asks with a little pout.

“I’d love to have a baby with you baby.” You coo in response, bringing your hands up to his cheeks to squish them together a little. You then bring your face down to his before puckering your own lips and pressing them against his. His lips then begin to move languidly against yours. As the kiss continues, your need for each other grows. You were keeping your bodies as close to each other as possible too. Your arms were now around his neck and his arms were tightly wrapped around your back underneath your shirt to keep you as high up on his lap as possible. As Harry kissed you, you could feel his cock hardening beneath you. He was already a bit swollen from the images of your body that were ingrained in his mind. Now he was getting even harder at the prospect of being able fill you up and get you pregnant. All he wanted to do now as fill you up with his cock, and ultimately fill you up with his baby.

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around your smaller frame, Harry maneuvers you both so that he’s kneeling on the bed. He then lifts himself up with you still being in his lap and pushes forward so that you’re lying back against the bed with him on top of you. When he does this, you can tell that things are getting heated so you quickly push at his chest to momentarily stop the kiss.

“Just because were having baby making sex doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to completely ravish me.” You say pointedly, making sure he knows the exactly what you want.

“I would never give you anything less.” Harry replies with a smirk before smearing his lips back onto yours. As he kisses you this time, he shifts his weight over onto one arm and he uses the other to push your shirt up your body. Once it was all the way up to your chest, he swiftly pulls away from your face and tugs the shirt off of your body. This leaves you completely bare other than your panties which is the next clothing item he has his sights on. He wastes no time hooking his fingers around the sides and he yanks them down off of you. He instructs you to lift your legs up and once you do this he rips the flimsy material the rest of the way off your body. He tosses them off to the side and he focuses back in on your now exposed body. As he admires all of your features, he imagines what they’d look like once he gets you pregnant. When he looks at your breasts, he thinks about how much larger and sensitive they’d be. He also thought about how the soft and supple flesh would fill his hands perfectly. When his eyes drifted a bit lower to your stomach, he had a very clear picture of how you’d grow as your pregnancy progressed. He was looking forward to seeing your belly grow. When he reaches your thighs and hips, he immediately thought of how much more of a rounded figure you’d have. All of these things made Harry’s mouth water and his cock twitch. “So beautiful.” Harry breathes before bending down to lick into you.

“Oh my god baby!” You moan, feeling his skilled tongue lick into you. You could feel the tip of his tongue circling your entrance and prodding at it. This only made you want and need him even more. “Need you inside me so bad.” You cry out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him up. When you say this, Harry sucks harshly on your clit before coming back up. He then shoves his boxers down to reveal his extremely hard cock. You could see his thick shaft standing proudly between his legs and you could see a small bead of precum beginning to emerge from his slit. Before coming in closer between your legs, Harry pushes back against your thighs so that your legs were spread as wide as possible for him. He places a tight grip on one side of your waist and he wraps his free hand around his cock.

“Ready baby?” He asks, pushing his cock down your folds and stopping right at your entrance.

“So ready.” You pant, lifting your hips up a little against his cock.

“Good girl.” Harry hums before slowly beginning to push into you. As soon as he begins, your moans get louder.

“Oh my god! You’re so big!” You cry out to him, feeling the very familiar sting that came along with his cock stretching to fit inside your walls. Once he was a little bit inside of you, Harry’s hand leaves his cock and goes to the other side of your waist. Hearing you moan out to him like this from only having about an inch of his cock inside of you unlocked the raw and primal desire Harry had deep down inside of him. Add his desire to get you pregnant to this and he was a beast. Without warning Harry tightly grips onto your waist and he slams the rest of his cock into you. You then let out one of the loudest screams you’d ever made. The slight pain of him slamming all of his cock into you at once felt really good. You felt stretched, and you felt completely full. You could feel this fullness all the way in your stomach.

“Feel me in that pretty little tummy baby?” Harry pants smugly, already knowing the answer to his own question. All you could do was feverishly nod your head against the bed. You were too caught up in how full you were to even form a word in response.

“Good.” He simply states. And with this, he goes straight into pounding into you. The both of you could feel the raw passion radiating off of each other with every thrust. Even though Harry was shoving his cock deep into you over and over again, the both of you had one goal in mind. A baby. That’s what you both wanted, and this was how you two chose to get it. As he continues to thrust into you, Harry lowers himself down onto you. He wants you to really feel how deep he was inside of you. And he wanted to feel it for himself. Even though this is a slight change in position, it doesn’t stop Harry’s hard thrusts. He continues to slam his cock into you over again, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge with each one. You could feel his cock deep inside you, and Harry could feel his cock moving deep inside you. The two of you could also hear each others cries and moans, along with your praises better. You could hear his whimpers and moans at how good you felt around him accompanied with his growls of how he was gonna cum deep inside you.

All of this made you want to sit on top of him and ride his cock for some reason. Even though your legs were mush, you still wanted to ride him. You wanted him to release every last drop of his cum inside of you and you knew just how to get him there.

“Wanna ride you.” You pant in his ear, continuing to claw at his back as his thrusts continued. Instead of verbally replying to you, Harry immediately lifts himself from you and flips you both over so that your straddling him with is cock still lodged between your walls. You were feeling an extreme warmth and tightness forming in the pit of your stomach and you were going to explode at just about any moment. It doesn’t take more than a second for you to start feverishly moving yourself up and down on his cock. Watching you become so desperate for a release pushed Harry even closer to unloading all of his cum into you.

“M’gonna cum soon baby.” He pants, lifting his hands from your hips to grasp your breasts in them.

“Don’t cum inside me baby. Forgot t’take my pill last night.” You whimper, continuing to push yourself back and forth against him. Even though you were just about completely out of it, you still had a little bit left to mess with Harry. When he heard this, all Harry could think about was the possibility of getting you pregnant right then and there. It was taking so much for Harry to not cum in that moment. While Harry’s trapped in his thoughts, you tug at one of his hands that were clasped around your breasts and you lower it down to your stomach which brings his attention back to you. Your next sentence lights a fire under Harry that pushes him right over the edge. “When you cum in me, our baby’s gonna be right in my tummy and I’m gonna grow and grow with our baby from all your love.” You pant down to him.

At this, Harry removes his hands from your breasts and then flips you both so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. He wastes not time in getting back to slamming his cock into you. As he thrusts, you can feel his cock continuously slamming into the deepest part of you. He watches as your body quivers below him and he could feel your walls contracting around his cock.

“Cum with me baby.” This was all Harry had to say in order for you to fall apart on his cock. Which in turn caused him to release as well.

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling not only your extremely powerful release, but also feeling the thick and warm ropes Harry’s cum splashing against your walls.

“That’s it baby, take all m’cum.” Harry pants. He could his body become weaker and weaker with every rope of his cum that flooded your body. “Tighten up f’me baby.” Harry instructs, bring his hand up to your face to give you a couple light taps. Once he feels your walls clenching around him, he brings his arms around you back and he lays himself down so that you’re lying on top of him.

Once he does this, the both of you lay there for a good five minutes. You two were not only trying to gain feeling in your bodies, but you both were wrapping your heads around it all. There was a possibility that you two were going to have a baby.

“I just know you’re gonna spoil the shit out of this kid.” You sigh, finally coming back to for you guys’ post sex chat.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you spoil the shit outta me!” You reply with a laugh. “And I expect nothing less with our baby.” You continue

“Well you’re my baby and you’re going to be carrying our future baby. So you both will be my babies that I love more than life itself which means that I’ll spoil you both rotten. Which speaking of babies, how many are we looking at? I was thinking 2.” Harry ponders.

“Same.” You agree. “What if we have twins though?” You continue, thinking about all of the possibilities.

“Then 4 kids.” Harry replies

“When you said that, my uterus trembled.” You tell him truthfully.

“M’pretty sure that was just an aftershock from my dick.” Harry says proudly.

“I doubt it.” You say smugly.

“Do I need to come over there and fuck yeh again? Because I will.” Harry says matter of factly.

“You’re getting older babe, don’t want you to kill yourself.” You laugh, bringing your hand up to his cheek.

“You’re gonna get it later.” Harry says, reaching up to pluck your hand off of him. “Just because you’re younger than me, doesn’t mean that I can’t go all day long.”

“I’ll be waiting patiently.” You hum. “Don’t want you to break a hip or anything.”

“Now y’really gonna get it.” Harry grumbles before sending a quick swat to your ass.

The both of you had a feeling that this wouldn’t do the trick. But judging by how well this step of the baby making process went, you and Harry were more than willing to do it again.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #my harry writing #concepts of h #harrywritingsbyme

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five-rivers · 3 years

Note

Now i would like to see prompts of a curious benevolent eldritch being coming to visit Amity Park and coo at the baby eldritch (Danny) and tech him how to access his eldritch powers.

I know this is probably supposed to be about some more traditional and tentacle-y eldritch abomination, but this is essentially what I’m writing Grandfather Clocks as (not to mention assorted other oneshots and everything happening in Mortified). I’m too invested in Lost Time to clearly imagine anyone but Clockwork in the Adult Eldritch Abomination role... at least from a more general prompt like this one.

... on the other hand I now have Vague Ideas (tm) about a full AU where Danny has eldritch abomination powers instead of ghost powers and all the eldritch abominations he’s ‘fighting’ are just coming to play with the baby.

WARNING this is for real written as horror, since it’s from Danny’s perspective.

Time seemed to congeal as the shadow in Danny’s soul stretched backwards. This one had a name. It skittered between the dark and the part of Danny’s mind that still resembled a human’s. He breathed in, slowly, then out, tasting it on his tongue. Once, it had been two.

Finally, it coalesced into something he could actually speak. “Skultech,” he said.

“Relative of Skulker?” asked Tucker. “Or Technus?” He didn’t look at them or at Danny. He had protections, but they weren’t perfect, and he’d already taken a step away from the light.

“Yes,” said Danny, internally translating the vibrations of air into something with meaning and weight.

Skulker. The hunter, fleshless and tireless. A pursuer of the mind more than the body. Almost sporting in his own way. The library with all its labyrinthine but immaterial paths was the best place to lose him.

Technus. A horror that lurked in the depths of the internet, luring in deep-web users and more than a few unluckly click-bait and phishing victims. Technus didn’t kill them, did very little to them, really, but there was a reason there wasn’t a computer club at Casper High anymore.

They had been two. Now they were one. Part of Danny was fascinated. Another was thrilled, happy, as it always was when these dark things manifested themselves in Amity Park.

His shadow stretched, whispering over his features. He could feel curl over the texture of the ground beneath him, grasping at grass and bark and soil as if it were possessed of a thousand thousand tiny fingers. It wanted to open up and play.

(’It,’ Danny said, as if it weren’t him, an extension of himself.)

“What do we do?” asked Sam. She, unlike Tucker, looked directly at him, even half-shrouded in shadow as he was. She always did, even if she averted her gaze from the likes of Skulker and Technus.

Near the beginning, Sam had made the connection between the others, especially ones like Ember, who were as beautiful as the were dark, and cults. She had started a joke about making one for Danny. Over time, it had become less of a joke.

Danny tried to ignore the pleasant buzz of his skin as he imagined a cult attempting to do something as sweet as bind him to their will.

Because, really, he shouldn’t be thinking of something like that as ‘sweet’ at all.

“It’s still Skulker and Technus,” said Danny, even if he had never seen them like this. “I think... the same type of thing should probably work. I distract, Sam gets people out of the way, Tuck, you get the computers at the library ready and tell me when to lead them there?”

“Do you think it’ll really work when it’s both of them?” mumbled Tucker. “I don’t know if I can even do both of the things at once...”

“The alternative is not doing anything,” said Sam, “and considering that they seem to be after Danny...”

Tucker made a face, the glow from his PDA reflecting from his glasses. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t try.”

“Remember,” said Danny, “don’t give me the go-ahead until you and everyone else is out.”

“Yeah, I remember, I remember,” he said.

“Go do your thing,” said Sam.

Danny nodded and left the shelter of their hiding place. He did not stand up, or walk, or move. He simply stopped being there and started being in front of Skultech.

From a distance, he probably still looked human.

They fought.

It was hard to describe how they fought, exactly, in human terms, but they did. Right up until one of Skultech’s three-fingered hands wrapped around Danny’s ankle and his shadow vanished.

He, breathing hard and falling, remembered what it was to be human. To be vulnerable. His shadow came back to him, flickering. He came back to himself.

There was a darkness that was himself, and he was so relieved. Why? How often had he wanted this gone? But he was whole, and like that he was half, and-

He’d gotten distracted.

Skultech had surrounded him, a hunting ground strobed with lightning. This kind of fight was an oddity to both Skulker and Technus, this kind of movement, this kind of strategy. Danny began to doubt that his earlier plan would work.

What was a library but another kind of forest?

With only enough warning for his self to wrap around him protectively, Skultech yanked him down into the Dream. The pale seaweed threads of human consciousness gave way to the dark and the other. He fell to the floor of a midnight palace and rolled to his back, coughing up not-water from the idea of his lungs.

Here, said Skultech, in something that wasn’t quite language. The True Voice. Danny had seen people fall to their knees when the others used that. Had seen sane men turn into blind faith worshippers. Had heard lies that became true in the speaking, or near enough that it didn’t matter.

He had never quite managed to speak that way himself, no matter Sam’s cajoling.

Danny managed to open his eyes. He did not come to the Dream often, no matter how much it called to him. Both his halves agreed, here, where every place was also a person, it was dangerous even in the shallows.

The ceiling was covered in layers upon layers of spiderwebs, and he did not like what that meant. Skultech was nowhere to be seen.

He pulled himself up and got to his feet.

The floor beneath him was glass. Beneath that was clockwork, but the gears were galaxies and solar systems, the springs were entropy and enthalpy, and the chains were the laws of physics themselves. Clockwork. It was... It would do, as a name.

The distant sense of amusement was disturbing.

Danny looked around. He needed a way out, a way back up, to where he could leave the Dream.

Why did Skultech bring him here?

Spiderwebs and gears. Symbols of control, of interconnectedness, of carefully laid plans. Was he stuck in a web he couldn’t see?

He spun, slowly, trying to see if he could see any doors or other openings. Something flashing, moving, in the distance caught his eye. His first instinct was to move away, but...

But it was like he was being drawn in. Like he couldn’t turn away. It was a mirror. A window.

It showed him himself. At first, a hundred paces away, just himself, as he was, but then at pace ninety-nine it changed. Mirrors did that, in the Dream. Everything did that, in the dream.

Time sped up. The mirror reflected not just light, but sound and feeling. He could see himself, his shadow, and-

He felt it when all the little Loves that kept him tethered to his humanity snapped, the lives they were anchored to burning up as they met their deaths. He screamed and heard it echoed back to him a thousand times over.

He could not stop walking. He could not stop watching. Ninety steps away.

His shadow in the mirror was wild. Unbound and grieving. Flesh and blood and bone existed, but his two part mind was unbalanced and divided from itself. He sought aid from the only other like himself and received a knife, received Hate to replace love and at seventy-five steps he watched as what he had once been embraced Vlad and devoured him whole, eating and becoming everything that made him him.

The shadow unfurled, hungry and seeking. The memory Love it once had and the Love it had desired for so long driving it onward and outward, the center pulsing like a diseased star. Seventy steps. It had eyes like constellations.

The mirror showed the Dream, now. Veins of sickness wound through the garden of human thought, through the tangled vines and twisted paths. What it found did not satisfy, and it sought more, and more, delving deeper. Sixty steps, then fifty.

It ate at the best of people, of others. The singers fell silent. The doctors could no longer heal. The kind became cruel.

Darkness fell. Then war. The shadow ruled all from its misery.

It was not enough.

Forty steps. It’s eyes met Danny’s. It knew he was here, knew he was watching. It began to speak in its True Voice, and Danny could not cover his ears to keep it out.

It spoke of the things it had done, of the things it would do. Danny watched as it carried out its plans, and even more. It spoke of how it, he, was Danny, and all this destruction, all this suffering was wrought by his own hands. It spoke of Love Danny did not cherish sufficiently, of fragility, of how it was determined to Be rather than Be Not even though its every moment was loneliness and Hatred to the point of agony.

Danny’s ears were bleeding.

Thirty steps.

It spoke of how it would hurt Danny, in particular. How it would rend his shadow, wound so there was no hope for him to escape his fate, even with foreknowledge of it. It spoke of how, with Danny watching, the mirror was a window, was a door it could reach through and Danny saw it reaching.

Saw it reaching out and in and towards now and those that he Loved, those that he cherished and Danny would have pushed himself to run but he couldn’t stop walking.

Twenty steps. It could make itself look like Danny, and even though it was wrong, Danny was wrong too, he was so, so, so, wrong and his wrongness was going to get them killed. It was going to get everyone killed.

They were looking at it, not him, speaking with it, not him. His darkness was covered. With it, these things were like staring at the sun.

It tore away the protections he had so painstakingly layered over those he Loved.

Ten steps.

He saw his parents with a bomb made by their own hands, one that would devastate the Dream for miles around, killing anything that dared to imagine, the culmination of their work. Nine steps. He saw Mr. Lancer writing lesson plans with his own blood, each sentence less English than the last. Eight steps. He saw Sam with the ritual knife, her smile full of blood and sacrifice. Seven steps. He saw Tucker clawing out his eyes, surrounded by computer screens flaring with symbols humans were never meant to use. Six steps. He saw Jazz-

He saw Jazz notice.

Five steps.

He could have wept.

She armed herself with stories and legends and saltwater and truths that made Danny seize and the fact that this thing was not her brother. Four steps.

He watched her confront it.

Three steps.

He watched it toy with her, her machinations only delaying her doom.

Two steps.

He watched it k-

One step.

No!

For the first time, he screamed in his True Voice. His fist snapped out, striking the mirror dead center. It shattered.

Was that enough? Was he in time? He- He couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t- They couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be gone.

He dropped to his knees. The shards of the mirror glittered up at him, calling him. His hand shook as he reached out and picked one up. Slowly, he raised it to his lips. He opened his lips and as soon as the shard was even with his teeth, he bit down, the glass crunching like thunder.

Already, he was reaching for another piece. He swallowed. His hands went out, nails scrabbling along the floor in his hurry. Mirror shard after mirror shard was shoved into his mouth and choked down.

There was something around his neck. With one of his many hands he reached up, feeling up his chest to throat. There was a collar there. It felt like control, like ownership, like Love.

Something liquid dripped from his eye.

Even as he gagged on glass, two of his hands, his human hands, explored the circumference of the metal piece. There were delicate fractal patterns on the surface that had double on the interior. As his fingers pressed down on them, they in turn pressed on the skin of his neck, sending pleasant curls of thought down his limbs.

His questing fingers found the collar’s lead. It was at the same time, like the spider silk above and the clockwork chains below. Flexible. Strong. Indelible. It was as inevitable as gravity that he should Be Loved and Love in return.

He licked the last powdery pieces of mirror off his fingers and his extra arms slowly evaporated back into the Dream as if they never were.

Who would Love him like this? Love him to the point that it manifested in the Dream like this? The answer was all around him, was inside him, as his heart echoed back the Love as best it was able, but he could hardly believe it.

The sound of footsteps on the hard floor jolted him out of his reverie. He looked up and met the red eyes of Clockwork’s avatar.

It had the appearance of a blue-skinned man wearing a cloak and festooned with symbols of time. A few long white hairs peeked from beneath its hood, and a painful-looking scar laid over its eye.

For a moment, Danny was stunned, because this was a true avatar, an extension of Clockwork himself, not a human hollowed out for use as a vessel. For someone as powerful as Clockwork had to be to be so vast in the Dream to bestow such attention on Danny-

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the only thing that rolled off his tongue was blood. Shame crept up his cheeks. He didn’t know if it was his use of his True Voice when destroying the mirror, or consuming all those shards afterwards, but his normal voice was gone.

Shh, soothed Clockwork’s avatar, gloved hands cupping Danny’s cheeks and forcing his lips closed. You need not speak, child. Those who love you will know your intent.

Danny nodded slowly, beginning to feel dazed. He remembered the scenes in the mirror. Remembered what the shadow-him had done. His fingers bent around the lead- it was almost as thick as his wrist- and looked up at Clockwork’s avatar.

Clockwork could strike him down, now, could destroy him so completely that even the merest memory of him was gone, and he would not care, because he would know it was done out of Love.

The lead shivered against his palms and grew.

No need, said Clockwork’s avatar. You have devoured your destiny and become free of it.

That sounded reasonable. The avatar brushed a thumb across Danny’s lips and smiled.

You have given yourself fangs.

Danny blushed again. He hadn’t meant to.

The avatar released Danny’s cheeks to reach for his hands, arranging them in Danny’s lap and rubbing circles into his palms. Then the avatar gently brought Danny’s attention to the door in its chest.

The door was glass. Beyond the glass laid an approximation of a heart made of the same elements as what laid beneath the floor. A metaphor for Clockwork’s heart, Danny guessed, though what laid in the avatar’s chest couldn’t be anywhere near as grand as the real thing.

The avatar nodded, and then leveled a gloved finger at Danny’s own chest. He looked down.

There was a door, there, too.

His breath caught in his throat and he tried to scramble away, some still-human part of him objecting strenuously to whatever was going to happen.

All at once, the whole of Clockwork’s attention turned in on him, and for an infinite moment of time he was held in a perfect embrace. His thought from earlier returned. Anything, and he would not object, because it was done out of Love.

His edges, usually so sharply defined, even in the Dream, went fuzzy, almost blending with his surroundings, those surroundings being Clockwork.

The avatar reached for Danny’s door and opened it. It hurt, but not as much as he thought it would. Within, laid his heart.

The surface, the shape, of it looked human enough. The veins and arteries were all in the right places. The atria and chambers all looked to be the proper sizes. It beat an even rhythm.

But inside it was as black as night and something like a star twinkled in its depth.

It was... odd, how closely it resembled Clockwork’s galaxies while being at the same time so different.

Clockwork’s avatar opened the door to its own chest, pinning it to his cloak, then he reached into Danny’s chest.

There was the pain he had been expecting, radiating from his core to the very tips of his fingers and toes. If he were not held immobile by the sheer force of Clockwork’s regard, he would have arched backwards and screamed.

Methodically, the avatar cut and tied off every one of arteries, veins, and nerves that led from the rest of Danny’s body to his heart. Finally, the heart excised and cradled in its hands, it drew back.

Danny should be dead. The Dream did not follow the same rules as the reality he had been born into, but his mind would not let go of the fact that he had no heart. He should be dead.

The avatar inserted Danny’s heart into its chest, next to its own, and closed its door. Slowly, the image of Danny’s heart faded into metaphor as it sunk down into the deeps to nestle next to Clockwork’s true heart.

Danny understood, then, that from this moment on, Clockwork would decide the direction of his heart, would determine who he Loved and who he Hated. If he should Love or Hate. Danny rather doubted Clockwork would let Danny do anything so damaging as Hate.

I shall keep it safe for you, said the avatar, something more profound behind its words that might have been Clockwork himself, until you are old enough to protect it on your own.

Danny understood, too, that although this promise was not a lie, he would never be old enough to reclaim his heart, no matter how much time passed or how powerful he grew. Clockwork’s Love and protection would keep both him and it safe, young, fragile. How could it do otherwise, when time itself would flow around him? When Love would keep him anchored to one form?

Clockwork’s attention relaxed, then, and Danny could move again, curling around the gaping hole in his chest. The avatar ruffled his hair and, with his other hand, held something out to Danny.

Six paired sets of life and death glimmered against the lavender of the avatar’s glove. Danny recognized them. They belonged to the people he Loved. He had not realized he Loved Mr. Lancer, but he could see now that it was true.

Moving slowly, as if underwater, Danny held his cupped hands beneath the avatar’s. His breath caught as the avatar tipped the lives and deaths into his hands.

So precious. He brought them down to his lap and, with painstaking care, began to peal the deaths away from the lives. Each death he ate, consuming it and breaking it down into nothing. Each life he placed in the hollow that had once housed his heart.

Like this, they would not die, they would not leave him. They would be with him, always, just as he would always Love them.

Exhaustion hit him all at once, and he slumped forward to rest his head on the Avatar’s shoulder. It laughed, lightly, and helped him close the door in his chest. Then, it took a heart-shaped padlock from within its cloak and threaded it into the latch of Danny’s door. The click as the padlock closed echoed off the floor and distant walls.

With a kind of detached curiosity, Danny watched as the edges of the door, latch, padlock and all, melded into his skin and vanished as if they had never been there at all. He knew that he would not be able to find the door again without help, and that, even then, to open the door he would need the padlock’s key. A key he had not yet seen.

But what reason did he have to open his chest? Others might have cause, those who wanted to hurt him, or those that he Loved. This was another protection, another way to keep him safe.

This time you devoured your destiny, said the avatar, petting him. The sick futures have been cut away. Next, we shall remove the presents where you Are Not. After that... The sentence trailed away in a buzz that made Danny’s thoughts go quiet.

The avatar began to do something that could only be described as singing even though neither voice nor sound were involved. It was a lullaby, and Danny felt himself become even heavier and softer than before. He curled into the avatar’s side, feeling small. The pain of his missing heart eased itself into something more bearable. The threads of love that kept him from becoming a monster wound tighter around his limbs and sewed themselves deeper into his skin.

His eyes drifted closed.

When he woke, he was in his bed, in Fentonworks. He blinked several times at his ceiling, and leapt to his feet only to be waylaid by dizziness and static across his eyes. He brought a hand up to his neck, half expecting to feel metal.

He didn’t.

He shifted, pressing two fingers against an artery. No pulse. He switched his grip to his wrist. Nothing.

Right. No heart.

No heart but six lives and-

He stumbled out of his room and started banging wildly on her door. Jazz threw it open and froze.

“It’s really you?” she asked, voice quivering.

Danny opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. It didn’t seem like Jazz really needed a verbal response, because she threw herself at him, enveloping him in a hug.

“I was so scared,” she whispered. “The- the not-you-” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Everyone was dying, and then- and then it was just- It was like a dream. Like it didn’t happen. But you were gone.”

Danny nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” she said. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Her love, so tenuous and slender compared to Clockwork’s, but no less genuine, wound around his wrist. He hugged her back.

If he had been able to speak, he would have said, Me, too.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #prompt fill #eldritch abomination au #prompt #body horror #horror

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alyssadeliv · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten One

First Previous

Chapter 3

Damian Al Ghul is the most beautiful baby Marianne has ever seen. Not that she’s seen a lot of newborns, but something inside of her knew no one would be as cute as her little brother. He was very tiny and that only encouraged her more than ever to protect him. Her mother thought it adorable, that if not training she was always at his side. Her grandfather thought it useful, like a bodyguard to protect his so expected heir. As a baby, he couldn’t do much yet, but she liked his company. It was rewarding to see him staring at her with those beautiful green eyes when she talked to him about her day.

They grew up together, so it was only natural that they would train together. Marianne loved it when they would train or fight together, it was another excuse to be around her baby brother. Since birth, he has always been very bright, and very skillful. He’s only seven when he is allowed a solo mission, and she remembers how she begged her mother to allow her to accompany him, just to make sure he’ll be alright. The punishment she received from her grandfather was enough for her to never ask again. But as Damian had proved more than capable to handle every kind of situation thrown his way, she wasn’t so anxious anymore when he would leave for missions. But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry.

Her mother and the guardians became more strict with her training after Damian was born, focusing more on fighting techniques rather than the knowledge of the Kwamis, that part she was already very knowledgeable about. And because of that increase in her abilities, she was allowed to train with her brother, when he was about six. In the beginning, their fight was never fair, with more years of experience, Marianne had an advantage. But as the years passed by, and Damian learned, it became more equal. When they fought together they were formidable, the synchrony and the precision of their movements was something fascinating to behold. You would think that because of their strong bond it would be difficult to actually hurt each other in a fight, but together they were ruthless, always pushing the other. They brought out the better in each other. Marianne could proudly say she taught Damian a lot, especially in the art of diversion and dagger fighting.

Living in the League meant that you could never be too careful, and trust was something it had to be earned. Relations were discouraged because they tended to make you weak. But for the siblings, having each other was their strength.

Even if both had their own room, it was common to find Damian sneaking to bunk with his sister or Marianne simply crashing at her brother’s bed after a taxing day of lessons. To everyone in the League, they didn’t have contact outside of training, and her grandfather made sure of that. He liked to call her his secret weapon, one that only his most trusted followers knew about. Being a very paranoid person, that trust revolved around 3 people, her mother, Sabine, and Master Fu. And she was sure that her master only knew about her because it was what created their alliance in the first place.

Like her, Damian wasn’t much better in the social department. He didn’t interact with kids his age, and all of his time was dedicated to perfect his skills. She was his one and only friends, but just like her, he wasn’t very good with words, yet she knew he adored her just as much as she did him. She was the heir to the Order of the Guardian and he the heir to the League of Assassins. They had duties to fulfill, expectations to reach, and people to please. It was hard, but at least they had each other.

Until they hadn’t.

She was sixteen and had just come from a long mission, all she wanted was to take a shower and curl into bed. This mission had been more taxing than normal, she was successful but it still took a lot from her. Ignoring her primal needs she made her way to the training grounds of the League, looking for her Master, to give him the mission report.

“Master” She greeted. Wang Fu had taught her so much, but she could see very clearly that her teacher was flawed. Even after years in this life, he had a very kind heart. He tended to be a very recluse, only interacting with people from the Order or the League if he had to. She was the only exception to this, from the years of training with him, she knew he had a soft spot for her. Most of the time he acted very naively, and that still bothers her thus this day. But where he was kind he was also very strict with her training. That’s why she always pushed herself, to prove to him that she was worthy of her birthright, to be the true wielder of a Miraculous.

It was already dark, and the League was quiet. Only the ones on duty would be awake, but it was common to find her Master meditating at all hours of the day at the Temple of the Miraculous. The temple was built by the order of her grandfather as a sign of good faith after the alliance between the two organizations was created, she spent most of her childhood there, reading the sacred tomes and connecting with her inner self.

“How was it?”

“Successful as always. I infiltrated the party without any problem and locating my target was easy. The tricky part was luring him out of the crowd. But I managed. Using the Chinese hairpin I infused the poison in his bloodstream, he was dead in a matter of minutes. The poison won’t leave any possible leads, and I obtained the information requested. I shall pass it to Grandfather at our morning meeting, he requested that you be present as well”

“Any witness?”

“No.”

“Very well… Go ahead and get some sleep. Tomorrow after our meeting you will be having another section of training with Lady Shiva, she was very pleased with your recent development.”

She bowed respectfully and started to make her way to the chambers. She could feel the sleep piercing through her, but she pushed it aside, she needed a bath before even thinking of going to bed.

She made it to the west wing of the League, where Damian opened the door after only two knocks, still in his sleeping clothes. At that time, she was the only one that would seek him out. He let her in without a word, and she immediately made her way into his bathroom. Being the Heir to the League comes with its perks. His room was bigger than hers and he had a bathroom all to himself. Compared to his room hers was rather simple, with a bed in the middle, a dresser, and a table with a chair. The Arabic aesthetic gave a stylish decoration to the plain room. His was more majestic, with a big bed with the most comfortable comforter she ever laid in and very well decorated. Only the best to the grandfather’s grandson.

She stripped and laid her weapons carefully on the counter. With empty thoughts, she enjoyed the warmth of the water on her skin, and only after washing her hair twice, she turned it off. Sometime during her shower, her brother had delivered some of her clothes. Because they alternated between their rooms, it was practical to just leave a couple of clothes in each other’s chambers, that way no matter when, they would always have something to wear. She left the bathroom only carrying two of her daggers, even in the comfort of her brother’s bedroom, she could never let her guards down. He was laying on the mattress, half-asleep, just waiting for her. As she neared the bed he lifted the covers to let her in. And as she laid there at his side, feeling the heat of his body near her, with one dagger on the side table and the other under her pillow, she felt at peace.

The peace was short-lived, however. She couldn’t tell for sure how long she had been asleep, but enough for her brain to be foggy. She bolted awake feeling another presence in the room. In one fluid movement, she grabbed her trusty dagger and went into action. She hit her target in one fluid movement.

“What’s going on?” Damian was also awake, with a sword in hand, staring wide-eyed at the body laid on the floor.

“Get ready.” And with that they both started to prepare themself, gathering their weapons and changing into more appropriate clothes. In a matter of minutes, they were ready. Before they exit the bedroom, she turns to her brother.

“Take it.” She hands him one of her daggers. It’s from a set, her favorite. It was a birthday present from Damian. Two handmade daggers, one was white and the other was black, it had the Yin and Yang symbols carved in the handle. Representing the balance between creation and destruction. It was perfect for close attacks and throwing. He takes the black one without a fight, by now he understands the seriousness of the situation. With caution, they left the chambers. Now they could hear fighting happening in the background. She knew what she had to do, go to the temple, access information and from then try to create a strategic plan. Damian would come with her, without knowing what was going on, it was safer to continue together.

They reach the temple without any problem, but there’s when things got problematic. A group of three people advances on them, two men and one woman all wearing black and covering their faces. She immediately goes into attack mode. Diving from the oncoming sword, puncturing the man tight as he attacked her, she analyzes the situation, his wound which does little to stop him is heavily bleeding. Because of her size, she could tell he was underestimating her, so she used that in her advance. She let him come closer, giving him a false sense of security, allowing him to believe her to be inexperienced. His sword makes contact with her left arm, and a red flow of blood makes itself known. Following her plan, when he comes close enough she grabs onto his torso and using his body weight throws him onto the floor over her shoulder. Once he’s down she reaches the dagger strapped onto her thigh and stabs onto his chest. Immediately turning her attention to the other two attackers that went after Damian she throws the dagger at the back of the woman, momentarily distracting her brother’s opponent. Grave mistake. Damian disposes of him quickly after that. After getting back her weapon, they keep their pace.

Now they could see various members of the Order and the League fighting different opponents. The floor is coated in red, and in the distance, it is possible to see the beginning of some fires. Seeing her home being destroyed broke her heart but there was no time to grieve. On high alert, they arrived at the temple. They meet another group of black figures, not even thinking she immediately engages one of them.

She can’t tell how long that has been going on, she lost sight of Damian and their enemies just kept coming, there is no sign of Master Fu or the Miraculous Box, so she can only assume that he escaped without any problems. The other guardians are by her side, trying to overpower the attackers. In the distance, some explosions begin, shaking the foundation of the temple. Some stones start to fall, and immediately their opponents start to evacuate mid-fight. Based on that it is not difficult to reach a conclusion. Their target was the Order, they obviously planned to explode it to the ground.

“It’s a trap! We have to leave the Temple, it’s going to crash!” With no hesitation she starts looking for Damian, she needs to find him and get him somewhere safe. It’s pandemonium, people running and screaming orders. Some bleeding and some already dead. It’s practically impossible to see with the smoke that found its way in.

When she finally finds her brother, it’s almost too late, by now a lot of the foundation it’s destroyed, and they would be lucky if they get out in time. They start running, Damian ahead of her. They were almost at the entrance but something in her, maybe her instincts told her that they would not make it. Using the rest of her energy, she focuses on her inner strength, gathering a bit of magic in the palm of her hand. With one fluid movement, she pushes all she has into her brother.

The impact of her magic sends him flying out of the building, into safety, just in time to miss the pieces of the temple falling down.

“MARIANNE!”

It's the last thing she hears before she feels the weights falling onto her body. For some minutes she feels everything, the burning pain in every inch of her body and the shallow movements of her chest.

But for the moment that didn’t matter, she was tired, and she knew she could rest knowing her brother was safe.

“Ahbk ya akhi”

Hope you liked this new chapter, it was a bit longer than usual. I’m not very good at writting about fights, but I hope it wasn’t terrible. Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!

Taglist: @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13 @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @iamabrownfox @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades

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aj-the-cat · 3 years

Text

Turned

Masterlist

The Undertaker (Ministry) and F!Reader

Tags: If you'd like to be on my tag list, please let me know!

Warnings: Blood drinking, human agony

Based on my personal headcannon that Ministry Taker was basically a vampire. Enjoy!

Also, heres a key for anyone who doesn't know them:

(E/C) - Eye color

(H/C) - Hair color

(Y/N) - Your name

Hurried footsteps sounded on the cobble floor. Dressed in all black, loose clothing, the man was rushing to deliver a message. Out of breath, he finally reached his destination: a room designated to two men. He knocked on the large wooden door, and a broad man answered, a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

"What's your business, Mideon?" The man asked. The footman, Mideon, wheezed out his reply. "The Dark Lord calls for you and Farooq." The man seemed to think for a second, then lowered his head back down to Mideon. "Alright. We shall be down. Now go." Mideon scurried away as the door closed.

Inside the room, the man went back to the table in the middle where his friend sat, pondering over some playing cards. "Deadman calls." The man said. His friend looked up. "What for?" He questioned. The man shrugged. "Who knows with him. Now let's get going, we don't want to anger him by being late." His friend stood up and both of them walked out the door and to their master's throne room.

~* *~

The castle, known as the Calaway Castle, or the Dark Castle to the city down the mountain, was ruled by one man: The Undertaker. Nobody knows his real name, not even his dark court.

The victorian-esque castle was made of dark brick, with monster-like designs all over. The gates guards were literal gargoyles. No sunlight got through the cursed sky over it.

Inside, The Undertaker sat on his throne. A large symbol was hung over it, it looked like a T with an x on the bottom. The throne was black, with purple trim and a large back. He was dressed in a flowing black robe, the hood covering his eyes.

Beside him, was a littler version of his throne, but in it sat a woman. She was dressed in a simple dress, all black, it hugged her upper body and flowed out a little at her waist. No skin was shown, her neck, arms, and legs were all covered by the dress. She wore a head necklace with the same symbol above the man beside her.

The woman was strikingly beautiful, her (E/C) eyes were soft, full of love and life. Her (H/C) was french braided and flowed down her shoulder, just stopping at the middle of her chest. She stood out, she looked like she didn't belong in this dark castle.

The doors to the throne room opened, catching the dark pair's attention. The men Mideon called for walked through, chests tattooed with three strange symbols each. They walked up to The Undertaker's throne and kneeled. "You called us, Master. What is your desire?" They asked unison.

Undertaker took off his hood, looking down at his muscle men with striking green eyes. "Ah, Bradshaw, Farooq. Take my fiancé to her chambers. The day of the ceremony has come upon us." He gestured to the woman beside him, who smiled sweetly. "Yes, Master." The pair replied.

The woman got up off her throne, kissed Undertaker on the cheek, and went down to meet the men. They continued to kneel. "Get up, please." She asked. Both men stood up. "Follow me." She walked out of the throne room, Farooq and Bradshaw on either side of her. Undertaker sighed and looked to his left, where a squat, round man stood, reading through a book. "Paul, the time is now. Prepare for the ceremony." The squat man, Paul, looked up from his book. "As you wish, my lord." He replied and scurried off through the throne room doors, leaving Undertaker alone to think about tonight.

~* *~

The three walked down the castle corridors, bootsteps sounding on the floor. The woman was barefoot, the cool stone tickled her feet as she walked.

Farooq and Bradshaw stopped at an elegent looking door, with the same strange symbol burned into the door. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, then opened it for the woman. She smiled sweetly and padded inside.

Inside, three identical figures stood, robes and masks covering identifying features of them. "Welcome, Lady (Y/N)." They bowed simultaneously. Their voices were the same, very robotic and neutral.

The three straightened and stared straight ahead at nothing. "The Master has instructed us to prepare you for your ceremony tonight." Setting the creepiness aside, Lady (Y/N) smiled at them and bowed a little. "Thank you. You may start whatever you have to do." She straightened her head and the left-most one approached her.

The two figures stood as the first one stripped Lady (Y/N) of her dress and undergarments. A blush found its way to her cheeks as she stood naked, awaiting the next instruction of the figures. "There is no reason to be embarrassed, Lady (Y/N). Now, follow us to the bathroom." The figures walked to the door leading to the connected bathroom and walked inside, Lady (Y/N) following in tow.

The bathroom was exquisite, marble tile on the walls and floors. A huge bathtub sat in the middle, with a sink and shower on either side of it. One of the figures had started the water, and another was laying out materials on the little table beside the tub.

The figure that had taken Lady (Y/N)'s clothes stood beside her and gently guided her to the side of tub. A bath bomb had already been placed in the tub, turning the water a baby pink. The sweet smell of strawberries wafted from the water.

Lady (Y/N) stepped in the water and sunk down in the warm liquid. The figures gathered soap and one of them started gently pouring water on her head, wetting her hair. They poured a generous amount of shampoo on her head and massaged it in. Lady (Y/N) closed her eyes and enjoyed the experience.

The shampoo was washed out of her hair, and the figure repeated the process with conditioner and a leave-in hair mask. Another had begin washing her body, taking a soaped up loofah and rubbing it all over her body. The last one picked up some shaving cream and a razor and waited for the other figures to finish what they were doing.

The two figures stopped, and the one at her head wrapped her hair in a towel, while the other guided her out of the bath and on the side of the tub. They towel dried her body and the last one began their work.

They placed shaving cream up her legs, on her pelvis and underarms. Then they got to work, placing the razor on the bottom of her legs and working up. The others prepared the vanity with other tools for pampering. Lady (Y/N) looked away from the figure shaving her and fixated her attention to the ones preparing the vanity.

The one shaving was gentle, using long and careful strokes upward, careful not to knick her. After all, she had to be perfect for their Master.

Eventually, they had finished up and rinsed off Lady (Y/N)'s body. They wrapped her in a fluffy towel and led her to the vanity, where the other two were waiting. She sat down and they got to work.

One placed wax strips along her eyebrows and upper lip. It was painful taking them off, but they soothed the areas with cooling aloe gel. The other took her hair out of the towel and picked up a blow dryer and dried her hair.

After that, her hair was lightly curled, and part of it was pulled back and braided. The other began putting on very light makeup. Sheer foundation, little concealer, and a smokey eye look to make it pop. A light blush and highlighter was applied, and to top it off, a nude lipstick.

One of them had placed your head necklace with the symbol on the end back on her head, and her time at the vanity was complete.

The three had led her back to her room, and on the large bed sat a beautiful black victorian dress, with purple accents and a veil to boot. A gasp escaped Lady (Y/N)'s mouth as she laid her eyes on the dress. It had long sleeves that came off the chest piece, and it was designed to reveal her shoulders and neck.

She didn't notice one of the figures had disappeared, but they came back holding a neat pile of clothes. "The Master asks that you wear this under your dress." They held out the pile and she got a good look at it. It was a deep red corset lingerie set. Lady (Y/N)'s face grew pink and she began to stammer a bit.

"Please, do not be ebarrassed. It is for the consumation of your marriage tonight." The one holding the set said. Lady (Y/N) took a deep breath and composed herself. "Ok, please continue." She replied. They figures got to work dressing her.

The corset set was put on first, with thigh high sheer stockings, garter bands to hold them up, panties and lastly the corset itself. The figure tied it to make it easy to untie. The others had gathered the dress and accessories and patiently waited for the lingerie to go on.

After they had finished with the corset, the other two swooped in and dressed her. The dress perfectly fit Lady (Y/N). Black flats were put on her feet, the veil on her head, and she was handed a black and red bouquet of roses.

The figures stepped back and looked at their work. Lady (Y/N) was very beautiful, and now ready for the ceremony tonight. The figures lined back up to their original place when she first entered the room and bowed. "Our work is now complete. You may leave."

Lady (Y/N) stood frozen for a second, taking this moment in. She was getting married and turned tonight. She had never dreamed of this happening in her life, but here she is, standing in her wedding dress about to get married. Tears wanted to reach her eyes, but she regained her calm composure and walked to the door that leads to the hall. She knocked lightly and Bradshaw opened it.

She stepped out, and the the two men stepped on either side of her again, although this time black bowties were around their broad necks. They looked silly, and she giggled a bit before the two men lead her down the hall.

They walked for while, and thoughts swarmed Lady (Y/N)'s head. Positive and negative clashed, but soon those thoughts washed away as she realized Farooq and Bradshaw were opening the door to the ceremony hall. Creatures of the night sat in the darkness, the only thing seen were the red dots of eyes.

A path was illuminated that led to a platform, and standing on that platform was her fiancé, dressed in a more elegant robe than before. On a higher platform stood Paul Bearer, holding a decorated book with a language on the front she couldn't read.

Eerie music started up, and Bradshaw nudged the small of her back as a signal to start walking.

Lady (Y/N) walked up the path, the lights disappearing behind her as she walked forward. When she reached the platform where the Lord of Darkness stood, the music stopped and the only lights that were left were the ones illuminating the couple and Paul.

Paul cleared his throat and spoke up. "Before we start this ceremony today, the Lord of Darkness wants to clear up some overdue business." He gestured to Undertaker.

The man in question held up his head and looked down upon Lady (Y/N), and with one gentle hand he caressed his soon-to-be wife's cheek. "I understand you wish to become a vampire like me, correct?" He asked. Lady (Y/N) nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I want to live forever with my love by my side." Undertaker smirked, showing a bit of fang.

"Very well, my love." He replied. He took his hand off her cheek and lifted up the arm of his robe, exposing his wrist.

"This will be painful for you. Are you sure you want to continue?" He asked. Lady (Y/N) had a determined look in her eye. "I do." She replied. Undertaker closed his eyes. He said nothing, and his green eyes opened again.

Undertaker opened his mouth, revealing long and sharp fangs, and bringing his wrist up to his mouth, he knicked a wound open. "Drink, my love. Let the blood of a vampire king flow through you!" He brought his wrist up to Lady (Y/N)'s mouth and she hesitantly started to drink.

After a while os silenced drinking, Lady (Y/N)'s knees buckled under her and she dropped to the floor, shivering in pain. Undertaker dropped down next to her and held her as her body changed. "Begin the ceremony, Paul!" He shouted. Paul snapped out of his personal tranced and held the book up to his face.

"Dearly unbeloved, we gather here this evening to join Lady (Y/N) and the unholy wedlock with the Lord of Darkness. Tonight, Lady (Y/N) will step from the light from this evil, cesspool, mortal world, into the sanctuary of eternal darkness. Keeping this in mind, will you, Lady (Y/N), accept the purity of evil, and take the Lord of Darkness as your Master and your spouse?"

Lady (Y/N) still shook in immense pain, and muffling a scream, she weakly let out an "I do". Undertaker rubbed her back gently, and Paul continued.

"Lord of Darkness, with it as your intent, do you accept Lady (Y/N), her body, her mind, her soul, and even her breath unto yourself, and allow her to bear your offspring?"

Undertaker's ears pricked at the 'bear your offspring' part, but her gripped his soon-to-be wife closer and answered. "I do." Paul continued again.

"Through the power vested in me by the Lord of Darkness, I now pronounce you as the unholy union of Darkness. You may now bite your bride!"

Lady (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, revealing deep red irises and a cat eye pupil. The pair stood up, and moving Lady (Y/N)'s hair out of the way, he bit her neck, but didnt drink. He withdrew, and moved his hair out of the way for his new wife to bite.

She saw his skin and bit, but the urges inside her told her not to drink, and she withdrew just like her new husband had done. Mate bites. They were now bound together by marriage and by the bond of mates.

The pair looked each other in the eyes, the feeling of love strong in the room. Undertaker lifted his hand and cupped his now wife's cheek, and leaned in. Lady (Y/N) followed his actions and leaned in too, and they kissed passionately, so full of love, and now stronger with the bond.

#undertaker #ministry of darkness #x reader #one shot #wwf #wwe

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alltooreid · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals.

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude.

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore.

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved.

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N.

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her.

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team.

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue.

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care.

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . . I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy

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wanderingstormjen · 3 years

Text

The Thief and the Dragon

“Seven thousand steps up here. You’d think they’d have at least offered us a drink,” Brynjolf huffed as he watched the great oaken doors close.

Raina laughed softly as she adjusted her cloak and started off across the courtyard. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m honestly surprised they let you in at all.”

“I’d like to have seen them stop me.”

“They’d have probably shouted you off the side of the mountain.”

“Good point.” He glanced back at ancient monastery. “I’d have thought they’d at least have given you a warmer welcome, though.”

“It’s just their way. They’re not that bad, honestly.”

“If you say so, lass.”

“It’s not like we came to see them anyway.”

“True.” He turned his gaze to the snow-covered crags still ahead of them. “You still think this is a good idea?”

“It’ll be fine, love. I promise.” She grinned. “Of course...he may just eat you.”

His retort was lost as she faced the path ahead of them and strange words erupted from her mouth in a voice that was not quite hers. Instantly the path, which had been swirling with snow, cleared and the wind calmed and died away.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” He murmured.

“Stay close. I’ll probably have to do it again.”

Raina had to clear their path twice more as they made their way steadily upwards. Once, as the thick, churning snow disappeared, Brynjolf saw all of Skyrim laid out far below them. He decided to keep his eyes on something closer. A pity the most beautiful view on the mountain is covered in a cloak.

Just as Brynjolf was beginning to think the mountain went on forever, the wind and snow died away on their own. They skirted a massive boulder and came out into a clearing void of anything but more snow and a stone wall etched with ancient dragon symbols.

“How in the world did they manage to get one of those up here?” He shook his head. “Nevermind. I probably don’t want…to...”

He trailed off as he was hit with the overpowering sensation of eyes upon him. He couldn’t help reaching for the pair of ebony daggers in his belt. He stopped as he saw Raina watching him, amused.

Brynjolf stared in awe as what he had first ignored as a pile of boulders moved. A great horned head rose up a moment before massive golden-tan wings unfurled to their full span. Powerful talons gripped stone and a bladed tail scored the snow a second before the dragon took flight.

“By the Eight.” Brynjolf managed as he watched the dragon soar up into the sky. A second later he was speechless again as the ancient creature landed beside the crumbling wall of words.

“Paarthurnax.” Raina said, her voice once again deeper and ethereal.

“Dovahkiin.”The dragon sounded surprisingly as Brynjolf had imagined, deep and rough but yet somehow kind.”Dii fahdon.”

Brynjolf watched, fascinated, as Raina and Paarthurnax conversed in dragon-tongue. All she had told him on the journey to the mountain had not prepared him for actually standing in the presence of a millenniums-old dragon. It seemed impossible that the woman before him, his love, shared blood with such mythic creatures. Yet time and again, she had proven it to be true.

“And this?” Two golden eyes were now upon him. Brynjolf froze as fangs the size of swords were suddenly inches from his face. “Ah...hin ahmul, yes?”

“Yes. Brynjolf.”

Silence reigned for several minutes as Paarthurnax seemed to consider him.

“Hmm. Tafiir. And yet…nonvul. An interesting balance.”

Finally, a low rumble sounded in the dragon’s throat. Brynjolf decided it didn’t sound threatening but also didn’t sound entirely pleased.

“He is bahlaan?”

Raina smiled. “Very.”

“Pruzah.” Paarthurnax turned back to Brynjolf. “You will treat her well, tafiir nonvul, or I will come down from my strunmah and make ash of your bones.”

“I...”

The entire mountain seemed to shake as the dragon spread his great wings and laughed. Raina, too, was laughing as she took Brynjolf’s hand, then kissed him.

“You’re doing fine. If he didn’t like you he probably really would have eaten you,” She whispered.

“That’s comforting.”

“There’s someone else for you to meet,” Raina said as Paarthurnax settled himself again. She undid her cloak, then reached into the sling settled around her shoulders.

Brynjolf could not help the stab of fear as he watched the massive horned and fanged head bowed low to inspect the tiny sleeping infant. His son. His perfect, beautiful son with his hair and Raina’s eyes.

“Kiirsedovah.” Paarthurnax’s voice was low and reverent.

“Faraan,” Raina said. “My...our greatest treasure.”

Hearing his name, the boy woke. Had Brynjolf woken to find a huge scaly head in front of him he probably would have reacted far differently. He watched his son calmly stare up at the ancient dragon. A chubby hand reached out and patted the rough snout.

Another rumble issued from the dragon, a very pleased sound. “Faraan.”

*******

(I used thuum.org to translate and I’m hoping that I did it right. I took a few tiny liberties, so indulge me)

dii fahdon – my friend

hin ahmul – your husband (That’s right, my girl bagged that sexy red-head!)

tafiir – thief

nonvul – honorable

bahlaan – worthy

Pruzah - Good

tafiir nonvul – honorable thief

strunmah – mountain

Kiirsedovah – Child of the Dovah (?)

Faraan – Gold, fortune, wealth (I stretched it to mean treasure)

#the elder scrolls #skyrim #paarthurnax #dovahkiin #brynjolf

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katsukisprincess-archive · 4 years

Text

gala night jealousy | tamaki x f!reader

a/n: hi hi hi! it’s been forever since i’ve written something and it felt so good to get this out. the jealousy aspect of the relationship is obviously dramatized for the smut. pay attention to red flags in ur personal relationships! i hope you enjoy! my requests are open <3

genre: smut, jealous smut

wc: 2.4k

tags: @tomurasprincess @keigos-dove @carwolinee @catlover7722 @shoutodoki @kimm-ie @jennatheebaby @dabilove27 @ttaste-the-rainbow @buferfliz @dragonchildyuki @dymphnasprose @usernamekate94 @katheriinr @holopoem @engel-hageshii @egghoarder @kyberhearts @mstakami @cadesgay @noamizu @lazywinnerpersonpasta @scawberry @luxivii @flutterfalla @pygmy-lurks @lastminaddition @hisoknen

The flashes of cameras as the door to the limousine opened were immediate.

For a moment, Tamaki was thankful that you were sitting closest to the door. He watched you step out, careful to accept the hand of the driver and make sure your heel was planted firmly on the ground before rising. He had to think through every second of motion he made to prevent an accident or making a fool out of himself; as he saw the light flicker off the sequins of your dress, he wondered if you had to do the same- or if the gracefulness you carried in your movements was just included in the irrevocable marvel that was you.

“(Y/L/N), over here, over here!” The paparazzi yelled out for your attention as Tamaki tottered his way to your side, and he couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh in relief as you laced your hand through the bend in his arm. Even in his mid-twenties he still hadn’t found comfort in any form of public emergence… you were the only thing that grounded him, but especially so tonight.

You had been off in America for nearly a month with your agency, taking workshops, keeping up appearances as you were being called one of the new Pro-Heroes to keep eyes on. It was nearly two years after graduating with your class from UA High, but still, you were making waves in the Hero scene all around the world alongside your agency partner, who you had grown up with and now worked with- Mezo Shouji.

Tamaki didn’t dislike Shouji. How could he? He was one of the most respectable people he had ever met, even while going through school years. There was no denying that he was a good friend to you, as well- there were no signs pointing otherwise. You had been dating Tamaki for almost seven years now and while there were mishaps he comforted you through with your other friends, nothing ever went astray when it came to your multi-limbed agency partner. There was nothing to hate.

Well… maybe one thing.

You spend so much time with him.

It nearly had Tamaki itching at this point. He understood the insane schedule of a hero as he lived the life himself, just in a different agency. Time together was sparse, so when you had it, you had to make the most of it, especially now that you were back from such a long trip. The anxiety he felt bubble in his stomach as he watched you be whisked away for pictures with Shouji annoyed him beyond coherent thought. What was the point of getting so upset over this?

He tried to reason with himself while he stood off to the side, sometimes taking pictures with Kirishima and Togata as they passed, sometimes answering questions for reporters that he wished would just walk away. He trusted you, he loved you more than anything, and he genuinely considered Shouji a close friend at this point. Still… when his pointy ears perked up at the sound of compliments towards you and him, he wondered if he was going to be sick.

“You two look so good together! Can we get another pose?” One of the reporters chirped, holding her camera up as you and Shouji stood in another position for her. He didn’t realize he was zoning out until he felt Mirio’s hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his reverie.

“Relax, Tamaki, we’ll be out of here soon! Wanna start walking up?” Always positive and always having his back, Tamaki was thankful that Mirio saw his clenched fists and dark eyes as general anxiety and not shooting arrows into the hand- hands?- that Shouji had currently gripping your hip.

Giving a short nod in response, Tamaki and Mirio began their trek inside the building, all the while Tamaki prayed for this night to just be over.

***

He learned quickly that it was far from over.

If anything could go wrong that night, it seemed to happen. He got to sit next to you for the awards, but Shouji was on the other side of you. This was normal, Tamaki kept reassuring himself. You two were nominated for an award together, which symbolized the best duo currently in the field. You won, of course, and while Tamaki was so fucking proud of you, he couldn’t help but feel that same twinge of jealousy. You looked so beautiful in the dress you were wearing, and all night he could feel his cock straining against his slacks in response. He hadn’t been able to touch you in weeks… and that was all Shouji was doing tonight.

Little did he know, you were completely aware of how he was feeling. Jealousy wasn’t a new feeling for Tamaki, and you were both very open to each other communication wise. Judging by the way he was groping you in the back of the limo on the way to the gala, you knew you were in for it already. Tamaki tended to take a lot of emotion out during sex, knowing that what he couldn’t possibly describe with words, he could show through actions. Would it hurt to… encourage that kind of roughness? You didn’t think so, fueling your own desires and setting yourself out to be the thing Tamaki couldn’t take his eyes off of all night.

After the awards, you focused on the little things. Reaching out to touch Shouji’s arm when you laughed at something he would say, or pressing your ass against Tamaki’s boner and pulling his arms to lace around your chest to make it look like a normal, sweet gesture.

The sharp intake of his breath was enough for you to know you hit a nerve.

“Careful, bunny.” Tamaki whispered in your ear, rocking forward against your ass just slightly and raising goosebumps across your skin. “I’d be more compassionate if you want that dress,” His hand trailed up your chest, his thumb sticking out to trace the fast-pulsing vein in your neck, “to still be in one piece by the time we get home.”

Your response was out before you could think about the repercussions. “The reporters said it looked stunning against Mezo’s hair.”

Wrong move.

Suddenly thankful that no one around you was paying attention, you barely had time to gasp before you were being yanked out of the ballroom and down a secluded hallway. He was bold to assume that you were able to keep up with his lanky legs in the heels you were wearing, but your fashion didn’t seem to be his top priority at the moment. You played catch up with him, nearly being dragged the rest of the way before he found a bathroom.

“A bathroom Tamaki? Seri- hey!”

Your dress was being unzipped and pulled down your body before the door was even closed. After pushing it shut and locking it, Tamaki lifted you out of the mess of fabric and kicked it to the side. You wanted to make a comment about how expensive it was, but judging by how he was literally holding you in the air to kick your heels off of your feet, you figured now wasn’t the best time to talk.

“What is it about Shouji that has you so enamoured?” He asked in your ear, dropping you to your feet before ripping the panties you had off of your hips. Your complaints fell on deaf ears and you were thanking the universe at that moment that your dress had a bra built in.

“What? Tamaki, I’m not-”

“That’s not an answer. Is it the arms? Do you think about what he could do with arms like that, bunny?” His voice grew deeper towards the end, sounding like it was scratching out of his chest as his arms suddenly turned into a multitude of tentacles, each finding one of your limbs to grab onto to hold your back against his chest. You were on full display in the mirror in front of you, and Tamaki was looking over your shoulder at the complete show he was making of you. “Do you want to feel what all of those can do?”

With one sticky tentacle trailing up and wrapping around your neck, you had very little room to speak. Instead you laid your head back against his shoulder and tried to look up at him, open-mouthed whimpers ringing off the bathroom walls and drool trickling down your cheek.

You felt your eyes roll back into your head as his limbs squeezed and pulled at your nipples, one just barely finding your clit between your folds and running small circles onto it. You weren’t able to control the whimpers, or silence the sounds in any way, and you could only wonder through the fog if anyone was listening.

The thought had you soaking.

Tamaki, truthfully, was just as much of a mess as you were. With his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, tie undone, and buttons popped on his shirt, he still felt like he was in a sauna. It took very little to get him worked up when it came to you, and seeing you spread eagle against him and nearly crying in his ear before he even took his dick out had him questioning if he would cum in his boxers.

“Yeah bunny, that’s a good girl,” He panted, pressing a kiss to your temple as he quickly used a tentacle to undo his pants and release his cock. There was no waiting- he could feel your abdomen rippling the way it before you hit your peak and he needed to be inside of you. “Such a good girl-”

Stumbling forward with his pants around his ankles, Tamaki lifted you up onto the countertop between two sinks so that you were on your knees. He was at the perfect height to slip into your dripping cunt from this angle, his tentacles pulling your arms behind your back as he began the process of stretching you out around his dick. You spread your knees just a little wider, causing him to hit a spot deep inside of you that made you yell out for him and fall back against his chest. He used this position to his advantage, beginning to pump himself inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Tamaki breathed out, his left hand turning back to normal so he could hold your neck again, but this time against his own skin. He picked up his pace with this, but as he sped up and your moans and whimpers grew even louder, he pushed you forward so your hands were bracing yourself up against the mirror.

This gave Tamaki the perfect angle to watch your reactions, seeing your mouth fall open and the glass fog as he pounded balls-deep into you relentlessly. “Oh, Tama, right there, please, please~” Your strings of words began to barely make sense as he held your hips in a bruising grip, but still, it wasn’t enough.

Slipping you off of the counter, Tamaki dropped you to your feet and brought you back against the cool tile wall. He wasted no time in picking you back off the floor, utilizing one hand of tentacles to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried himself back in your pussy.

This position was much more intimate, and fuck did he look like a beautiful mess above you. No matter how many times you two spent time like this, neither of you would ever get sick of it. Tamaki was convinced that you were the best thing he would ever have in this lifetime, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to spend a lot of that lifetime making you cum around his cock.

“You feel so good, Tamaki~” You whispered, your lips crashing against his in hopes of swallowing some of the ridiculous noises you were sure were floating through the building at this point. He responded with a long, drawn out groan, his eyes pressed tightly closed as he fought to not cum that second. Your arms fell around his neck and you let your hands wander up into his hair, yanking at the indigo tresses and forcing his thrusts to stutter inside of you. You could tell he was fighting off his orgasm, but you wanted nothing more in that moment than to make him release. “Cum in me, Tama, fill me up, please cum in me~”

Another groan from him, but this time followed by now two human arms wrapping around your torso, pressing you hard against the wall, and fucking you with absolute reckless abandon. Tears fell from your eyes at the sheer impact, and as you bit down on his shoulder, you came harder around him than you ever had in your relationship. You worried your nails drew blood with how harshly you were grasping at him, but with the sheer force of his own hands, you knew you would probably face similar marks.

Tamaki came deep inside of you, stuffing his load and filling you to the brim. Your first thought once you caught you breath was to clean yourself up since you were already in the bathroom, but before you were even off from against the wall Tamaki had stuffed your pussy with a plug he pulled from the pocket of his slacks.

Once he backed away you looked at him incredulously, and he couldn’t help but take in your entire look. You were a mess, ridiculously so, and he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe off excess eyeliner and mascara. As he tried to gently fix your hair, he pressed the softest kiss to your forehead. “I’ll help you zip the dress up. Long night ahead.”

***

Even as you walked back to the main party, you questioned how you didn’t notice Tamaki had a fucking plug in his pocket. You whispered to him about it the whole way there, commenting on how there was still so much to do that night and it could have been so uncomfortable.

Tamaki could only smile. If you didn’t notice the plug in one pocket, you surely didn’t notice the ring box he had stuffed in the other.

#tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #suneater x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Finale

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 10 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; slight reference to past sexual abuse; fluff

Word Count: 6,700+

Author’s Note: Guys... the finale! I’m crying actual tears lmao. Thank you for reading my words. It means the world.

The New Compound, July 2025, 7:09pm

The extra hour of sunlight this time of year was the easiest excuse to use for lounging on the roof to watch the sun set slowly. The compound no longer touches the clouds, but it still provides a rich view of the landscape across. There is no blowing of horns or shouts of the road hecklers; it’s a simple hour of solace to rest your chin against your arms, eat your snacks, and watch the sky change colors until nothing remains but the possibility of counting the stars.

“Hey… can I sit here?”

Your heart does a little jump at the sound of his voice. Traitor, you want to say to the pesky organ, but remain quiet as Steve wanders over to stand by you. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Do what you will, Captain.” It’s simple enough of a response, you figure. You look down at the granola bar in your hand, turning it over a few times before rolling your eyes at the silly gesture. “Granola bar?”

He nods, watching as you snap it in half, and grabs the piece. “Thanks.”

You eat in cooperative silence. You take small bites, saving the granola bar so you have something to focus on during the length of time Steve decides to stay up here. He seems to be doing the same. “So what brings you out here? Another depressive episode?”

“I happen to have the perfect amount of depressive episodes, thank you very much.”

You snort, “Ditto.”

He takes a small bite and rolls the granola over his tongue. “No, I uh… I actually came out here to watch the sunset.”

“That’s sweet.” You shrug and admit your reason to him without a second thought. “I came out here to be sad, so.”

“Thor’s visit isn’t doing you any good?”

Thor is genuinely looking better. He’s started braiding his hair again, exercising with the help of Quill and Bruce, and participating in conversation without being addressed first. Seeing him makes you happy, but there’s still a glint in his eyes that reminds you of the lowest point of his life. And his lowest point was also yours. Sometimes you just want to forget. “He looks better. Healthier, got some light back in his eyes. It’s just whenever we look at each other we think of the same thing, I guess.”

Steve hums low and his shoulder brushes yours. “Loki.”

“It’s good to reminisce and all but I’ve got my limits,” you say.

“What was the special connection between you and Loki anyway?”

You grin at such an innocent question. Steve had never been close to Loki, didn’t really like him much, but he tolerated the God wandering about. You figure he genuinely wants to know. “I met him a little bit before I was assaulted. Everyone in the compound had their suspicions but no one asked. It was like they were avoiding me but also trying to help, I don’t really know. It was a weird time. And Loki, after we caught that dragon thing and really, really properly met, just straight up asked me why I was so distant all of a sudden.” Your chest warms at the memory. “I told him. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?”

Steve shakes his head a little and his eyes follow the tilt of your mouth. “‘What a cunt’.”

He startles himself into a laugh, the rough word not expected. You continue, “It was the first time I laughed in four months.”

Steve follows your gaze out to the sunset. He suddenly feels guilty, out of the loop, sad. You had only mentioned your assault to him once when you discovered Tony’s afterlife gifts, and he never brought it up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were-”

“Bucky had just moved into the tower and all of your attention was on him. I don’t blame you for not seeing me.”

It’s true, but Steve doesn’t forgive himself. He’s had two years to check up on you and because of his own selfish choice, he’s let you slip from his fingers. A question bubbles from the back of his mind — one that he doesn’t think twice about finally asking. If he does, he won’t ask. “Do you miss… me?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sam put the idea in my head and—”

You sigh, “Steve, it’s the fact that he had to put the idea in your head. I can lie and say I’ve been all fine and dandy, or I can tell the truth and say I’ve been all fine and dandy. Take your pick.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment, mouth parting around invisible words. You’re staring at the sunset, avoiding his gaze but aware of his eyes on you, and he misses you. He truly, terribly, misses you. He decides he’s got nothing more to lose — he’s already lost you. “Well, I miss you. Do with that what you will.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes: wind in your ears, legs shifting when too much weight has been applied, tiny sniffs of the nose. You don’t really know what to do with that information. Steve misses you. And you miss him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that. There’s been no apology from him, just things he’ll do to appease Sam.

At the three minute mark, you groan quietly and turn to him. “Are you seriously still going to watch the sunset up here?”

Steve smirks and watches you from his peripheral. He really has missed being on the receiving end of your various tones of voices. “I have been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

His company isn’t all that bad.

Present Day, 2025, 9:07am

Perhaps there were good things that came from being locked up for over two weeks, alone. Last time you were locked up with the team and there was absolutely no special treatment after that. Now you’re resisting the urge to burst out laughing as Steve piles on the seventh massive pancake on your plate; or rolling your eyes as Sam keeps asking if you want more maple syrup — ‘What flavor? We’ve got six!’ — and Peter’s drowning Bucky with questions about who he encountered at the wedding.

“Is it the same as Netflix Narcos?”

“No,” you say bluntly.

“Is the Amazon series legit? Like, did Omar really kill the DEA agent?”

“No.”

“Is Omar as evil as they say?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Peter groans, piling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing’s as exciting as it seems, huh?”

Everyone looks to him, then to each other.

Steve clears his throat, “I was literally shot.”

Mouth full, you follow. “And I was abused for years.”

“And I had to deal with them while with HYDRA,” Bucky says with his mouth full too.

“Man, they shot at me. That counts,” Sam adds.

“And I finally got to use the shield. While being shot at,” Scott says.

You interject, “Technically I was being shot at.”

Even with such a cloud of violence, with gruesome memories — memories that would just be shoveled into the pile of things that no one is ever going to talk about again — you all begin laughing. Poor Peter missed out on a lot, but he can put two and two together. He knows this is his only chance to ask before you all lock it away and call it just another mission. It doesn’t hurt to humor him.

And even though you won’t mention it to any one else unless they ask — this wasn’t just another mission for you or Steve. Things have changed and the both of you know it. The aches within your chest are no longer negative or a bother, but instead are blooming flowers that have laid dormant for years. You’ve been plucking petals for as long as the two of you can remember, and it’s about damn time you both end up on the same page.

Everything has been quiet. Sure, there are bounties on everyone’s head but when is there not? You’ve pissed off more cartel leaders and gang leaders and political enemies than you can count on two hands, so this enemy territory is not all that foreign. You recognize the high trees, the gray skies, the mud beneath your boots. But you’ve got friends on your team that know how to climb those trees; friends on your team that know how to move the clouds and make the sky the talk; friends on your team that would hump through mud and snow watching your six.

You can’t believe you even thought about leaving after the mission in the first place. This is where you belong, where all of you belong, because you’re the only ones with good hearts who qualify for the job.

As breakfast winds down, Steve takes the opportunity to sprinkle in moments of long-awaited public displays of affection. When you go to refill your orange juice, he sneaks a kiss on your cheek. When you go to wash your plate, he makes sure Peter is looking the other way before patting your ass. And when you’re the one to envelope his slim waist from behind, he melts in your combined warmth.

“So, about our date,” Steve inquires, cheeks turning pink but voice unwavering. He looks brand new, refreshed, and there’s a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen since forever. You can��t remember the last time you have, but you figure it must have been back when the world hadn’t yet swallowed him whole. Now, he’s burning bright with the youth his soul has missed.

You jump up and down, “Ooo, exciting!”

Steve takes you by the waist, swinging you in every direction. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and not exactly dancing but it’s pure. “Chinese? Pizza? Just fries?”

“¿Por qué no los tres?” Pursing your lips, you wait for his answer.

“That can be arranged.”

You gasp dramatically, “You’re spoiling me.”

“Well I have two years to make up for it.”

That startles a laugh from deep inside your chest. “That’s gonna be our inside joke now, huh? Two of the worst years of our lives and we’re joking about it.”

He blushes along with you. “I think that describes our relationship perfectly.”

“Our relationship…” Your voice comes out like a melodic whisper and Steve feels it in his bones.

He grins down at you but before he can respond, someone enters the common room rather cautiously.

“Oh, now what the hell are you doing here?” Steve demands, pushing you to stand behind him. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary. Friday would have alerted the team if someone entered the grounds armed.

Agent Kavert raises his hands, “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you or anything.”

Steve tries to move his shoulders in a way where Agent Kavert can’t see your head. But you maneuver around him, somehow ending up peeking your head through Steve’s underarm. “If I know the law, and I think I do, you can’t really arrest someone in their own house anyway, right?” You pat Steve repeatedly on his side. “Right?”

Before Steve can respond, Agent Kavert speaks. With Steve guarding you, it seems the only thing Agent Kavert wants to do is get in and get out as fast as he can. “I just came to apologize. Ballistics came back and the evidence does show that you didn’t kill Ernesto Vega. It was Ramirez’s issued gun.”

Yeah, you think. The gun Seda stole.

“Oh, what a breath of relief! I almost forgot I was there.”

He sighs and his lips pull into a small smile. “You’re not gonna tell me where Ramirez is, huh?”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave you two alone, but not before squeezing your hand on his way out. He nods over to Peter, who’s still crouching in the kitchen, unseen by Kavert. Peter gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, happy to spy for his Captain. But you know he’s really asking Peter to take care of you while he’s gone.

You let out a heavy sigh. Omar has been wanted for years for another murder he didn’t even commit. And now, he’s wanted for another. He may be a giant with morals, but even he can’t escape the gruesome reality that plagues the wicked.

“I don’t even know where he is. If you came looking for answers—”

“No, I just… Everything’s been so fucked up since half the universe came back. And the possibility of an Avenger being bad, having played us for years — I think it just scared a lot of people.” Agent Kavert actually looks sincere. He adjusts his footing and chuckles a little under his breath. There’s a fine line creasing his forehead, but it isn’t formed from stress. He’s smiling, an honest look, and his eyebrows pull inward. “And Shakespeare? Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and lean back against the counter. “When half the world disappears and takes your family and friends with it, there’s really not much else to do.”

And besides, Loki was really into Shakespeare.

You continue, deciding at the last second to throw Agent Kavert a bone about your past. “Shield didn’t know but Nick Fury did. So did Pierce. And when Shield fell, Fury just hid it even more.” You give him a half smile. “We weren’t helping the cartel. We were slowly taking it apart.”

Agent Kavert nods, thinking it over. “The deal Jackeline made with us was pretty simple. She’d tell us all the inside secrets that she knew and in exchange, no charges against her and none so serious for you.”

Your shoulders slump and you shoot him a blank stare. “Was it really that simple? Like, I could have just used her as my one free call?”

“Joke all you want. You should have called us when Shield fell. The double agent thing was risky and everyone needs help taking down a giant like that.”

“I did have help. Involving more people was never planned.”

“He was just as much our mission as he was yours.”

Agent Kavert, as sorry as he looks, still doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s fine, you think. Not everyone can. And you’re not in the mood to argue anymore. “No… he wasn’t.”

He seems to read your mind because he simply accepts your answer. “I really am sorry for accusing you. And for the government arresting you alone and letting the white man go free.”

A tiny snort tickles your nostrils. Agent Kavert is white, and it’s even more amusing considering he’s being serious. “Thanks… I guess.”

He turns to leave, seemingly normal, until he spins on his heel and claps his hands. “Oh! And by the way — don’t leave the country. The charges of conspiracy and murder have all been dropped. But there’s evidence of drug smuggling. So, you’re on house arrest.”

Your eyes widen and you reply with a sarcastic yell. “Thanks!” He turns to leave again. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Could not have let you just get away with it. Some of that smuggling was under no order from Shield at all.”

“You know I can easily disable that ugly ass ankle bracelet you’re about to give me?”

He chuckles low, and finally waves goodbye. “Goodbye, Agent Y/LN.”

You stand dumbfounded, slightly annoyed, but you figure it’s better than actual jail time. Peter rises from his hiding spot and walks over to you, blowing air from his mouth. “Friend of yours?”

You whip around to point a finger, scream and laugh mixing into one. “No friend!”

Peter finally hears that accent Steve can’t stop talking about.

It’s a tiny portrait, sealed in a tiny frame and hidden in a tiny room. The frame is black with professional wooden carvings that make the sides look like perfectly detailed tree trunks. It’s in between the portrait of Tony and Natasha’s bracelet. Tony wears the same AC/DC shirt Steve has somehow stolen and claimed as his own. He’s got this sarcastic grin, some type of wrench in one hand while his other rests on his hip. He stands in his lab, glasses pushed up onto his head and black soot smudged on his cheek. You think Peter snapped the photo back in 2017.

But the middle portrait is your favorite. It’s the only photo he ever allowed to be taken of him. Brushing your index finger against the glass, you trace the small outlines of Loki’s jawline, to his thin pink lips, to the bulb of his nose, to the waves of his hair. He sits caught off guard, book in his hand and in regular human clothing. He shoots a rather annoyed but joyful look over his shoulder as the camera was shoved in his face. You know for sure Wanda took that photo.

“You’re not dead,” you say as you study the blue of his frozen eyes. A God doesn’t die, you remember him saying. Loki was wrong about a lot of things, but you pray he wasn’t wrong about this. There’s a small part of you that wants to speak the same words to Tony and Natasha, but there’s only so many times the world’s axis can shift for a miracle. You tap the glass, sighing a breath of acceptance, and finally let go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Smiling up at the ceiling, you think you’re right about this one.

It’s quiet. The only sounds are the mild ripping of wrapping paper and small ‘thank you’s’ from the team. Everyone got each other something — granted, everyone got something small for everyone. No matter how much Tony joked about still splurging on Christmas shopping, his promises weren’t exactly kept. He’s gotten everyone things they actually need or wanted. Steve, a new drawing pad; Natasha, a bright pink knit sweater; Rhodey, a new watch; Bruce, a pair of sunglasses; Nebula, a dark blue knitted sweater that she immediately presses against her cheek, eyes focused on the ground as she savors the soft brush; you, the full collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. And he finally presents the baby’s crib to Pepper, constructed three weeks after she originally asked him to.

“I know how much you like to reenact A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your room,” Tony grins at you. Biting your bottom lip, you throw yourself at him and hug him tight. He returns the hug with just as much strength, if not more.

As the night goes on and midnight rings, your small group exchanges tight-lipped merry Christmas’s and happy holidays. Natasha retires to her room, a distant look in her eyes as she says goodnight. No one knows where Clint is.

Steve nudges your elbow with his once the room empties. He holds out a box with festive wrapping — snowmen with carrots for noses and a variety of pebbled smiles. “From me and Okoye.”

“You got me a gift?”

Steve’s brow furrows as he nods like it’s obvious. “Of course. You’re my friend.”

“Well, now I feel inadequate,” you laugh. It comes out wet and it’s then that you realize you’re tearing up. “I promise to reenact Midsummer for you, okay?”

Steve chuckles, “You got it.”

You unwrap it slowly, half wondering why Steve and Okoye teamed up to get you a present. You. Your stomach churns an innocent whirl.

It’s a long sleeved vest… or sweater. You can’t really tell until you pull it from the box. It’s intricately designed and it takes a moment for you to finally see it, to finally understand, and the moment you do you exhale a wracked breath.

It’s not Wakandan fashion. It’s threaded with the colors and swirls of a place you haven’t called home in years. It has red flowers down the vest portion and multicolored rows down the sleeves and back. It’s made from a thick fabric that’s rarely used this century. Vintage — home.

“Steve…”

Steve clears his throat, “Now, I only did the flower parts. Okoye found it unfinished in… um…”

And there, where tags from brands would usually be, is a small threaded engraving.

‘From Bucky, To our muñeca.’

“He didn’t get to finish it so I thought I would — you know, help? — so it’s really from Buck. Probably an apology for not letting you visit him in Wakanda.”

Steve tries to push out a laugh at his poor joke, but you can see how he’s faltering. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down so his knees bend, and pour as much nonverbal thank you’s into the hug. He hesitates at first, arms floating awkwardly, until he swallows his fear and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you to him tightly and breathes in the sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, but Steve regards the delivery as powerful.

You wear it once, that Christmas night, enveloped in its warmth as you slept. In the morning, you hang it in the back of your closet.

A knock on your bedroom door sounds through your headphones. Bucky peeks his head in, “Is now a bad time?”

Sitting up, you pull the headphones from your ears. “Nope. Just thinking about how I’ve lived several years in the span of one week.”

Bucky lugs in a sports bag in one hand and a manila file in the other. He places them at the edge of your bed and proceeds to bounce in the available space near you. “Yeah, that can be annoying.”

You attempt to shove him away as he tries to steal your blanket. “Did you need anything?”

“Yeah.” He lets you take it, and simply turns on his side to face you. “What’s gonna happen between you and Steve?”

It’s an innocent question, but you know Bucky well enough to notice when he’s stressed. Steve probably told him to mind his business. “We’re good.”

He inspects your face with squinted eyes, “I know what you’re thinking so cut that shit out. This isn’t one of those missions where the feelings will just go away.”

“Funny thing is, I believe you,” you admit, watching as his face does something unexpected. His smile drops suddenly, like he didn’t expect you to agree with him, and then it’s immediately back full force.

“Peggy and Steve - right person, wrong time. You and Loki - right person, wrong time. You and Steve, all those years ago — right person, wrong time.” A weird thing happens: you agree with him again. “But now, after everything — right person, right time.”

“It’s just weird feeling like it’ll actually work.”

“That makes us seem like we’re all broken, doll. We’re not.”

You turn so you’re facing him; two mismatched parentheses. “We’re just tired.”

“We’re just tired,” Bucky agrees, smiling. “I’m not saying don’t look over your shoulder whenever you feel like it. Hell, I still look over mine.”

Snorting, you roll closer to hug him. He pulls you into his chest. “You give amazing pep talks.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they gave that trophy to Steve.” Bucky shares the intimate moment for as long as it takes before the blanket starts overheating. He groans as he sits up to retrieve the things he brought with him. “By the way, our mutual friend sends one last warm regards.”

Bucky throws the sports bag onto your lap. “What’s this?”

“Your shit.”

You don’t even want to ask him how he packed your things without your knowledge. “Kicking me out, Barnes?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, pads, the quilt I just finished knitting thank you very much,” Bucky lists and hands you the file. “Maribel found him.”

“Ramirez?”

“Your dad.”

You snap your head up to look at him. Bucky expects to see anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. He was prepared for it. But you just look confused, lost for words, maybe even scared. “Goes by Richard these days. Lives with his wife in Wisconsin, no kids, keeps to himself.”

You flip through the files, holding your breath. The file is small, Richard’s information only covering the first page, the rest just drabble. He seems relatively normal, looks normal even; normal job, normal credit score, normal upbringing. It doesn’t even seem real. You close the file and set it aside. “So you are sending me away?”

Bucky smirks, “It’s a suggestion. But I took the liberty of doing the hard part for you.”

“Yeah, because packing my lady products is the climax of this story.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Bucky called Richard your ‘dad’. Everyone either referred to Ernesto as ‘your father’ or by his name. Steve had said ‘dad’ a few times before he met him, then he never said it again. Hell, even you did sometimes.

It’s a sweet distinction and you’re certain Bucky said it on purpose. Bucky takes your hands in his, “It’s been a long time coming. But at least we can both say that the people who hurt us can’t hurt us any longer.”

You can. You really can.

Bucky’s already packed Steve’s shit as well. Steve’s just shoving extra socks into his bag when someone knocks on the door. He expects Bucky or Sam, final words of encouragement, but it’s Scott. And he’s standing there grinning like a mad man.

“So, what’s the verdict, Rogers? You going after her or not?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Think you already know the answer to that, Lang.”

Scott closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets, “Not that it should matter, shut me up if I cross any line, but everyone supports this.”

“Weirdly, I think it does matter. We’ve had you guys picking sides for two years. Selfishly. Like we were having a fucking civil war after everything.”

“Yeah, well.”

Steve huffs a laugh. It’s always going to surprise him just how comfortable Scott is around him now. Not afraid to tease him or call him out on something he doesn’t agree with. It’s refreshing.

“I’m not giving up on her, Scott. Not again.”

Scott nods. Perhaps breaking the mission ethic code wasn’t a bad thing after all, Scott thinks. He gives Steve a proud smile, genuine. “Then I hereby declare our hanging conversation officially closed.”

Steve wanders from his bedroom, to the conference room, to the main living room without an end destination in mind, seeming to just follow his quick feet as they lead him around the halls of the compound. He’s proud of himself, really, because he truly believes he’s learned to swallow his pride, has opened himself up to the possibility of being happy, and accepted that the world has changed and will continue to alter whether he likes it or not. He was, is, and will always be a man out of time — he’ll never fit but goddamn does he feel settled. He hasn’t felt this sane since before the war — which one? — so he relishes in the feeling for a few calm seconds.

He feels tears well-up on his water line and feels the pressure in his temples. He’s at a crossroads — both proud of himself for finally choosing the path he wants and relieved that this week, this mission he has dreaded for almost ten years, is over. He doesn’t know if he should sleep for a month or occupy his time with other things awaiting repair. A build up of five years, grief and loss and happiness all weirdly mixed into one pot, and Steve simply hasn’t noticed the improper portions of each ingredient.

It’s too much.

He thinks about his mental health. Shot to Hell, he jokes with himself. He’s already got the virtual therapy appointments scheduled. He figures he’ll get better with time and if Steve knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’s got a whole lot of that.

He thinks about Sam and Bucky and Scott — his three best friends that have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for him, and who would proudly do it all over again. He thinks about their kind words, their gentle touch, their devotion that Steve still sometimes feels he doesn’t deserve.

And he thinks about you. To anyone else, this was written in the damn stars. No, there wasn’t anything extremely obvious in the first few years. You were friends. Friends that grew to consider each other teammates. Teammates that drew a drop of blood while fighting on opposite sides. Teammates that recognized the true endgame, teammates that helped each other escape, teammates that went silent for two years. Two years of no contact, no signal of survival. Then again, teammates who stood by as their world crumbled around them. Teammates who grew to be friends again, leaning on free shoulders and seeking help through happy conversations and long nights. Friends that brought the world together again, only to rip each other from their own. Friends into the most bizarre of enemies. And enemies back to teammates.

Steve wipes a hand down his face as he fixes the strap over his shoulder. The common room is empty — he likes it this way. That means everyone is either napping, getting food, visiting friends or family, simply living life. The silence is therapeutic.

His eyes fall on a crooked picture frame near the television. He tries to ignore it, almost to the door and ready for another road trip, but he steps back. Then forward, then back again. He groans in frustration of himself and moves to turn the frame back in place, holding it for a few seconds until it stays. But as he lets go, it tilts once more. He tries again — it tilts back.

He pulls the frame from the hook and turns it over. He rightly freezes, the presence of a small pink paper airplane taped near the edge knocking the wind from his constricting lungs. He pulls it off, careful to not tear the delicate post-it.

He never found it. Natasha probably placed it behind this very picture frame in the other compound for him to find. Surely the explosion should have destroyed it — but it didn’t. It’s right here, perfectly intact, just a smudge of dirt on one of its wings. The frame hadn’t been damaged either. It’s real.

He holds the thin piece of paper like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Steve turns it over between his fingers a few more times, before he carefully folds it back in half and puts it in his wallet. “You’ve got some nerve, Nat. But I hear ya.”

Steve decides to write you back. He hides the letter in that sweater he knows you don’t wear anymore, in the far back of your closet, and marvels at the intricate stitching while he can. He poured his heart out, even if it’s not guaranteed you’ll ever see it.

‘Yes, I found your letter. I found it when I was looking for perfume in your suitcase. The tape was loose and I violated your privacy. I’m truly sorry for that.

But I felt compelled to write you back, in case the reverse happened and I died instead of you. I didn’t write it then, when you were drying your hair in front of that impossibly small mirror you so weirdly called ‘a stupid little bitch’. And you looked so beautiful. But I’m writing it now and maybe I’ll share it with you in person when we’re both ready.

When the world turned to dust, I held on to you. I know exactly why. Natasha bugged me about it also, teasing me whenever I would glance at you too long, or give you the last remaining Oreos I was planning on eating, or whenever I would leave your room in the mornings after a nightmare. She knew nothing was happening between us, but she had this smile whenever she caught me. Like she was happy I was comforting you, and in turn seeking comfort for myself.

You remember how her smile would tilt up more on the left side?

There isn’t a proper way to truly apologize for hurting you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. You at least deserve that.

I returned a different man. And I think that was for the better.

Yes, I wanted the quiet life. I still think I do. And I think you know this — you have always seen right through me.

I now know what Natasha saw. You irritate me, you damn near make me want to choke myself out, but I care for you. We hold each other up, and I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

You’re my best friend — I hope I’m one of yours.

Steve.’

There’s no one currently in the compound who really knows how to change the battery in your car. Bucky tries, does a rather good job too, but he claims he’s winging it and that you should call a mechanic just in case. He leaves you there with two random batteries on the ground, hood of your car open, and without any idea of what to do next. So you chill and wait for the mechanic you hope isn’t going to jack up the price just because he knows who you are.

But he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all — or at the fact he just had to drive through countless checkpoints and security checks just to get on Avengers property. He changes the battery and changes the oil, hooking you up with as many upgrades he can. He even offers to wash it until you thank him repeatedly and that Really, really, you don’t have to do that. Thank you so much!

“Quite a garage you got here.”

There are unfinished projects and random wires falling from the ceiling and enough tools to supply five garages. It’s messy, but it was Tony’s. You accept the compliment and see him out.

“Eh, make sure those windshield wipers work. I hear it’s gonna rain tomorrow.”

You thank him again. The clouds to the west are gray, getting darker as the expanse stretches, but from where you’re standing everything’s blue. You figure the mechanic was right: it’s gonna rain, and it’s gonna rain hard.

The mechanic did good, all things considered. You never thought your old, beat-up Honda could look a few years younger. You flick one of the wipers lightly, testing its strength. It holds, as does the other, but when you go to lift it up it stops halfway. Without wanting to break it, you don’t force it. There’s something blocking the switch.

You grab it before it can accidentally fall into a deep slot; the figurehead of a man, curly hair and beard that matches Steve’s, who also has a prominent and strong nose. You turn the coin over a few times before looking around the garage, down the street, at the remote area where the mechanic has just left. Standing there, mouth agape, you wonder just how in the world you missed the mechanic placing it there.

You were lacking in the spy department nowadays. Oops.

You know you’re not going to find Ramirez. But him giving this back to you? It was his way of saying he’s alright and that he owes you many thanks.

You pocket the coin and accept the fact you just got bested.

It should take a few hours before you hit the first motel. Wisconsin isn’t that far, but you do have to pass through about hundred “middle of nowhere’s”. You pull out of the garage and check your mirrors — completely unaware of the super soldier running full speed to the passenger door. Steve carefully throws it open, somewhat aware of his strength, and lands into the seat beside you.

You hit the brakes hard. “Oh my! Rogers!”

Steve sucks in a few heavy breaths, like he literally ran across the compound to make it. “What? I startle you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on house arrest?”

You squint at him, “Touche.” Putting the car in park, you turn your whole body to face him. “Answer my question.”

“Thought you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Steve asks, expression much more teasing than serious.

“I’ll be gone for three days tops,” you say, waving your hand in the air. Steve smiles at you, seemingly waiting for you to speak again. You roll your eyes, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Steve lifts up the small duffel bag you hadn’t seen when he first got into the car. He throws it into the backseat and smiles lovingly at you. “I’ve been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

“Rhodey said that the ankle bracelet they gave me wasn’t a trusted model. Easy to break off, like they did it on purpose.” You lean toward him, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand. “Should be able to drive free for a few weeks before they suspect anything.”

“Already booked us a cabin for Thanksgiving.”

“What makes you think that I even want you to accompany me on this road trip? Did you like the first one?”

Steve clears his throat and mimes like he’s writing on paper. The next words out of his mouth make your legs turn cold. “No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.”

You blink multiple times, as if that would fix your ears. “...You. Fucking. Didn’t.” Steve reaches over to try and hug you. “No, don’t.” He squeezes harder, smooshing your face in his chest. “Steeeeve!”

“It fell out of your suitcase during the mission and I just… looked,” Steve reasons. He allows you to escape his grip.

“You just looked?”

Steve sighs. He really does look guilty. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers tickle your skin. “I’m sorry I read it. I’ll get out of this car for real if you want me to.”

You arch an eyebrow, “You’re a little shit, but I’m not mad. No one understands privacy these days.”

Steve smiles wide enough for his dimples to pop and his eyes to crinkle. “I’d follow you anywhere, doll.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

Humming low, you lean forward. He follows your direction like you’re a lighthouse beaming with light, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. He hooks a large hand behind your head to press you to him harder. You smell like that vanilla scented shampoo he loves so much and feels his heart constrict with a pleasant pulse.

You pull back for air and smile against Steve’s soft lips.

“Well, I’m headed for the middle of buttfuck Wisconsin—”

“Just drive!”

Bursts of laughter fill the car until you’re past the checkpoints and well onto the long roads. The clouds continue to turn darker but they’re inviting, alluring, and it’s not insane that both of you desire thunderstorms because they remind you of family.

Steve watches you from the passenger seat, memorizing the contours and edges of your profile. The roots in his heart begin spreading again; the meat of his heart filling with a soothing promise that his time on earth is no longer rootless. He’s dug his feet in, he’s watered all he’s needed to water, and he feels it spreading within him like newly blossomed flowers in the spring. He has a sudden urge to take out his drawing pad to immortalize the way your mouth tilts higher up on the right side when you smile, to record it forever.

But he’ll remember it. He’ll remember well into this timeline, several years down the road, and even when he’s resting in his grave. So he leans his head back against the seat and chooses to watch the curves of every expression you grace him with. He immortalizes the sound of your voice, the taps of your fingers against the steering wheel, and the accented way you say his name.

There’s a long drive ahead, but he’s excited for it. He’s excited for you. Steve promises himself that he’ll ask you a million questions, and give you a million answers, and share a million more stories.

Right now, he just needs to sleep.

THE END.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-3 @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#captainsimagines #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfic #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #chapter ten #to topple a giant #to topple a giant finale #avengers mob fanfic #by Moni

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oz-the-sorcerer · 3 years

Text

Create For Thra Day 6: "There are many paths laid before us, some good, most bad."

@createforthra

Here's a thing I have written months ago, which happens to be a perfect fit for today's topic!

Excuse my writing skills and enjoy!... Or cry.

🌟

Open Your Eyes

🌟

Kira tried to wipe away some of the blush from her freckled cheeks. She loved her reflection on the dressing mirror, but she thought her mom could do her make up a little bit less.

She heard her mom laugh.

"And here I was wondering how long would it take you to remove some of it."

"But it feels heavy, you know I like how I look."

"Yes honey, but this is a special occasion... Spare me this once?"

Kira rolled her eyes playfully as Brea braided her silver hair with beads. Kira's hair fell from her shoulders, she especially wanted side braids like her gorgeous mother, but had thin side braids instead of thick ones. She made them herself, then Brea offered help attaching the beads. Brea made two braids, connecting into one thick braid at the center.

"Looking good as ever." Came a silent voice. Kira turned to her aunt, whose body, spider body, was sitting on top of the counter. She couldn't help but blush, looking down.

"Don't move your head, sweetheart." Brea said, posing her head straight again.

"Sorry. I am just... Excited." She was terrifyingly aware of her heartbeat, tried to take a deep breath.

"I can sense your fear." Tavra walked with her thin legs and stopped between Kira and the mirror. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I can't help it." Kira explained. " I wish I could know what the future holds for me, like Mother Aughra. Maybe then I wouldn't be this vulnerable."

"You are not vulnerable." She felt her mother tug on her finished braid as a warning. She didn't like it when Kira dragged herself down this way. "Do you think I didn't feel afraid? I thought I was going to faint."

"Ah yes, glad that you only puked and didn't faint."

"Tavra!"

Kira started to laugh. Well, this story was new.

"You puked?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't want my daughter to know this ridiculous fact, thank you very much."

"She was so excited, so she ate whatever she could find from the kitchen and made herself sick." Tavra spoke mischievously.

"I had to keep myself busy!" Brea argued with her big sister. Kira loved their bickering. They were almost never serious with it, that's why Kira even started some of them on purpose.

While they were stating opinions on how to cope with these kinds of excitement, Kira looked at the mirror once more, and decided her fear was a good thing. She would always have her loved ones by her side, possibly talking nonsense like this and she realized, there was nothing to be afraid of. Her future, their future was filled with hope and laughter, she just knew it.

Another deep breath. And a big smile.

"Alright, all done here." Her mother said. For final touch, Tavra brought her golden coronet, which Brea placed on Kira's brow.

A knock on the door which made Kira's heart flip. Only Onica's wild red hair could be seen since she opened the door ajar while talking with someone outside the dressing room. Tavra's tiny body bounced with joy. When Onica came in, they also saw Tae outside, waving at them.

"We are all set. You can come out whenever you want." said the Far-Dreamer.

"Thra's Mighty Hooyim King, you look amazing, Kira!" Tae cheered.

Kira thanked her while she got up from her chair. Her white gown with gold and silver rands fell smoothly behind her. Embroidered with both Vapra and Spriton symbols, she was very proud of this dress she made herself.

One last glance at her reflection, one last deep breathe.

Brea reached to fix her bangs while Onica put out her hand for Tavra to climb on. Tavra wished her a good luck with: "Go get him!" while moving her legs exaggeratively, causing a big laughter in the room.

Then they got out, it was only her and her mother now. Brea's eyes were shining, her little fizzgig was now all grown up, taking another big step in her life.

"Mother, I will be okay."

"I know, baby."

"So, don't cry."

Brea abruptly wiped her tears on her long sleeve, trying not to smear her make up. Then she held Kira's hand and squuezed. Supposedly, they promised each other just this morning as a family that they weren't going to cry.

But all those hardships back in the trines, almost getting killed by a Garthim several times... Brea still couldn't believe it was all over. Skeksis no more.

Another knock on the door, and this time both of their eyes sparkled, as the legendary songteller stepped in to the dressing room with a blinding smile.

Kylan stopped in his tracks and stared at his daughter in awe. Kira laughed and went to hug him.

"Please don't start crying like mother did just now."

Kylan chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and spinned once. Then he sent a playful smirk on Brea's way and said: "It seems you lost our bet, love."

Brea pretended to be angry with a pout, but when she glanced at her little family, she smiled until her cheeks hurt.

"I want a hug too!" she said as she took big steps towards her husband. Kylan opened one arm for her and immidiately in she was. Kira leaned on her father's shoulder, which always felt like home. After some minutes, Brea sniffled once more, and Kira reached and hugged her as well. This is nice, she thought. It had been a while since they could be like this because of the fussy preparations.

When they let go, Kylan placed both hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Kira could see his eyes becoming misty with emotion as well. She smiled widely with the same eyes she has as her father.

Brea took his arm and started to lead him toward the door.

"Aww, I don't want to give her to Jen yet!"

Brea raised a laugh. "You are not giving her to anyone, honey. Let's give her a moment and take our places at the balcony."

Then she flashed Kira a proud look, and they were gone.

Kira felt aware of her heart again. She couldn't stop this fuzzy feeling inside her stomach and bounced around happily. Calm yourself before you sweat inside the dress, she thought to herself. She let go of the fists she made without noticing, and reached for the door.

Citadel's hallways were empty. As she passed each one, she heard the Gelf folk outside, crowded and excited, just like her. The noise grew louder and louder, then she made a left turn, reaching the last corridor before the Citadel's balcony.

She already could see her parents, on the left side. Brea was already looking at her direction and when she saw Kira coming, she gently elbowed Kylan's arm, causing him to look at her too. And the smile he gave her was everything. Before she teared up, she took a right glance, and saw Rian and Deet, also waiting for her to arrive.

With all the rustling her parents caused, Jen turned around where he was standing at the center and their eyes met.

The flutter inside her chest made her think that she was really about to let go of the lunch she had at noon.

Even if he tried to, Jen couldn't stop looking at her until she was at his side. He awkwardly reached his hand out for her. She took it eagerly.

They both stood straight before her Aunt Seladon, who was going to perform their marriage ceremony. She smiled down at them lovingly, which, Kira didn't experience often much before.

Kira glanced down at all the Gelfling who attended their wedding. Besides the whole citizens of Ha'rar, she could see many faces from every clan. Well, if there is any left, at this point.

Her Uncle Gurjin and Auntie Naia were cheering loudly, as well as her Uncle Amri. As her closest family friends, they had every right to scream.

She couldn't even begin to count everyone she knew when her eyes locked with a figure, at the very back of the crowd. Her eyes widened as the old creature's crane's shard shined with light.

"Mother Aughra..." she let out before she could manage. Jen smiled knowingly.

"I also thought she wouldn't be here today."

Kira, not being sure if Aughra could see it, bowed her head slowly at her direction. Jen followed right after her, thanking Mother Thra for everything she's done for the Gelfling.

When they finally started the ceremony, Aughra snickered loudly.

"These kids..." she said to herself. She ignored the looks of some Gelfling who heard her loud and sudden snicker, and glanced at the endless sky.

"You spoil these children, old friend." She talked to Thra, jokingly mentioning the great weather today. Her tired eyes scanned her every children, happy and bonded with the song of Thra.

They deserved this, she thought.

Their future is brighter than the stars above, she thought.

Then she closed her eyes, listening to her children's voices.

She didn't want to open them. She truly didn't. However, she had no other choice. She counted every star she visited while she was sleeping, just to kill time. But, they also came to an end.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a Gelfling. Laying and unmoving, already returned to Thra. After every slow step she took, she saw another. And another.

She recognized one, two, three... Maybe all. Or maybe she didn't. She didn't know.

She wondered, why Thra showed her this vision now. Which didn't mean anything. She huffed, then coughed, trying to silence her pain.

She knew where she was. In which reality, in which possible future she was in. She had this reality as a vision trines ago, and there they were. Her children, poor children...

And she knew what she was supposed to do. Her feet took her to the right direction as if moving without her consent. But that was she. That was Thra. Already decided fate. Too late to return.

One tear dropped from her eye to the bloody soil as she stood beside the corpse of a certain songteller, his eyes are half open as he clutched into his magical firca, like a last hope.

She leaned down and grabbed it. With delicate care, she fully closed his eyes, careful of her crooked nail.

Without looking back, she made her way toward the already decided route again. She wished all of her children, for them to return to Thra safely, as that was all she could do.

Grunting while she walked, scolding Thra for showing her a vision this heartbreaking, for making her cry, off to the UrRu valley she went. With the firca around her neck.

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ibelongtowrath · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas @marianaredwixi!!!

I may be a writer, but there aren’t enough words in any language that could accurately convey just how grateful I am for you.

You are a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your light shines so brightly. From our chats, to ranting, to our fun RPs, and everything in between, you make me smile every single day.

Your Christmas gift might be stuck in the mail, but I wanted to give you another gift that will hopefully make you smile as much as you make me do. I love you dearly, and I wish I could give you the world because you deserve it, but sadly I cannot. What I can provide, though, are lovely Lucifer stories for you to enjoy ;)

Dedicated to you, my amazing friend! I hope you love it.

You Are My Light - Lucifer x Reader

Everything is ready, Lucifer thinks to himself, making his way quietly back into the bedroom. That is, everything but the most important part.

He had risen before dawn that morning, Christmas morning, in preparation. It was a day he had never really enjoyed celebrating that much - nor did he really care for the symbolism behind it, but he knew it was important to you, his love, and he wanted to pull out all the stops.

Lucifer turns the knob on the door, stepping in to close it softly behind him. It clicks, and he winces, turning towards your sleeping form sprawled out on his massive bed - you remain visibly undisturbed, cradling your head against the soft down pillows, snoring softly. He relaxes, letting out a deep exhale. Good, I didn’t disturb her.

Stepping out of his shoes to pad quietly over to the bed, he perches himself on the edge. His face softens as he studies yours - blissful, deep in the sweet embrace of slumber. He can feel his heart swelling in his chest, leaning over to stroke your hair with the lightest of touches, ghosting his finger over a cheek. It never got old, waking up to you like this. So beautifully sweet, relaxed in his arms, safe, home. Lucifer looks up to the ceiling and chuckles softly, shaking his head. Father, he thinks, you have done so much that I despise you for - but I cannot hate you for giving her to me. For creating her soul to fit so perfectly with mine. No, I think that, on this day, I should be thankful. So... I will say it. Thank you, Father.

Closing his eyes to reflect a few moments longer on his gratitude, Lucifer shakes his head; a deep sigh escapes him - not one of sorrow or annoyance, but in contentment. He turns back to you, still at rest, and he smiles. Gently, so to not shift the mattress, he leans over your still-sleeping form to press a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger against your warm skin before he pulls back, tracing a thumb over your bottom lip.

Reaching into his pocket, he places a small note on the nightstand next to your charging D.D.D. as he rises to standing, letting himself take one last longing glance at you as he turns back to step into his shoes, leaving the room as quietly as he had entered.

I await you, my love.

--------

“Mmmm...”

With a large yawn, your arms stretch above your head as you turn to the side to greet your demon lover.

“Hey, Lu-”

You pause, noticing the empty space in the bed next to you. Hm, maybe he texted me? He probably had to go somewhere, you think to yourself with another yawn, turning your body over to grab your D.D.D. A small, folded-up note rest atop the phone, your name written in carefully-etched black ink, perfect strokes that belong to only one demon - yours. Your curious fingers reach for the paper, sitting up in the bed as you swing your legs to the side.

Merry Christmas, my love. Follow the path of the ribbon, and I shall await you at the end with many a merry surprise. I love you, my light.

- Lucifer

“Ribbon? Wha-”

Confused, you stand from the bed and slip on a pair of comfortable slippers in front of the nightstand. Your gaze falls upon a crimson silk ribbon laid out on the floor, soft and shiny despite the dim candlelit room, leading to the door of Lucifer’s bedroom. A grin stretches across your face, broad and genuine, and you excitedly skip to the doorway, pausing briefly to smooth down your hair, still simultaneously wild on one side and flat on the other from where your head was pressed into the pillow.

Stepping out into the hallway, you raise an eyebrow at the seemingly endless ribbon, the likes of which even makes a turn at the end of the corridor. The door clicks shut behind you as you begin to make your way, following the path of the silk, the same color as Lucifer’s crimson gaze. Curiosity only deepens as you realize the ribbon is leading you to the library, confusion passing over your features when you see it pass under the large wooden doors before the realization dawns on you. With another grin, you push through the doors and saunter up to the special bookshelf situated in the back of the grand room.

As though sensing your presence, the shelf yields, opening to reveal the path into Lucifer’s sequestered study room. The silken path ends there, and you slowly begin to make your way in, gasping in surprise as your hand claps over your mouth. Suddenly overwhelmed, your eyes well up with grateful tears.

The room is swathed in warmth that comes not only from the roaring fireplace, but with the joy, and pride, that fills the room. Christmas music, a joyful and upbeat tune, plays from the old-fashioned record player situated on the desk, coupled with the gentle crackling of fire licking at wood. A large pine tree, adorned with the same silk ribbon that led you here and soft, twinkling lights sits in the middle of the room. Red ornaments hang from the branches, the dancing fire reflected in the shiny orbs that glitter in the light add to the magical atmosphere. Endless abundances of gift boxes surround the bottom of the tree, overflowing to rest against cabinets with their shelves filled with bottles and bottles of Lucifer’s alcohol of choice.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

A sexy, low voice calls out to you amongst your grateful delight, drawing your attention to the fireplace. The sight before you causes your hand to drop from your mouth and down to your side, lips parting in both awe and desire, stunting your ability to speak.

Lucifer stands, completely bare, save for a deep red collar emblazoned with a black buckle wrapped snugly around his throat, and a smug grin upon his handsome face. Letting his demon form emerge, raven-black wings flare out to full wingspan. He raises an arm, turning a hand over to curl a finger, beckoning you over to him. In his other hand rests a swath of that gorgeous silken ribbon. Slowly, you begin to step towards him - your eyes never leave his, intense vermilion pools that shine beautifully, daring you to become lost in that jewel-toned gaze.

Wrapping you tightly in his embrace as you reach him, his lips find yours - kissing softly at first, letting himself feel you; until he cups your cheek with a hand, thumb caressing your skin as he presses his lips harder to yours. Your eyelids flutter, his wings doing the same - overwhelmed with love, and the tiny embers of lust that begin flaring to life as Lucifer breaks the kiss to slip your shirt over your head, and you shiver, though not from cold.

“I love you, my darling,” Lucifer whispers into your skin, pressing soft kisses into the curve of your neck.

“I love you too, Lucifer,” you breathe in response, closing your eyes and letting your hands roam the broad, muscled expanse of his smooth back, fingers resting just above where his wings meet the skin.

“When I gaze upon your face, all the unrest in this realm, and the others, falls away. Your eyes reflect my soul, and yours, the other half of mine. It shines so brightly, like the light of a thousand suns, despite the eternal darkness. You chase out the wickedness I hold within, the sorrow that becomes my very being, and replace it with a light that can never be snuffed out so long as I hold you in my arms. That is exactly what you are - my light in the dark, my home, my everything.”

Lucifer crashes his lips against yours once more, cradling you tightly in his arms, pouring every ounce of his devotion into the kiss. Your mouth opens, ever so slightly, inviting his to as well; a series of open-mouthed kisses, drawing out small breathy moans that escape into him. A few moments later, he pulls away, pressing the diamond in his forehead to yours, gently.

“Before you open all your presents, love, there’s one I’d like to give you first,” Lucifer purrs.

The demon steps back before sinking to his knees slowly before you, pressing wet kisses that trail along your torso, stopping just before he reaches your hips. He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, tugging at it a few times to tease, delighting in the goosebumps that prick across your skin as you shiver in anticipation before pulling them off your body, placing more kisses between your hips - moving his lips to find purchase on the soft flesh of your inner thighs, nibbling gently at the sensitive skin.

Low moans escape from your parted lips, squeezing your thighs together, the warmth from the fire behind you rivaling the temperature of your now-feverish skin. Lucifer rises to stand before you with a smirk, his own desire flaring to life within as he licks his lips.

“Turn around, sweet pet,” he instructs, humming as you comply. “Good girl.”

Lucifer lets the silken ribbon in his hand unfurl, using his free hand to bring your wrists together behind your back. Wrapping them in the ribbon, your arms bound together, he steps back to admire his work, growing hard between his legs as the wetness begins to drip down between yours.

“Beautiful,” Lucifer breathes, sweeping his gaze over your nude form, slightly shadowed by the firelight. “Oh, darling, perhaps this is just as much a present to you as it is to me... but I don’t think I can wait any longer to open my pretty gift.”

Pulling you in for a searing kiss, he gently lowers both your bodies to the soft plush carpeted floor, laying you down gently on your back. He places his hands on your knees, spreading your legs apart, his now-hard length twitching at the sight of your wet heat shining in the light of the fire.

“So perfect, so wet and ready for me,” he breathes.

Sliding into you, his head tips back as he lets out a groan, reveling in the sensation. He rolls his hips, softly yet firmly, leaning forward to graze his lips against yours - eliciting small, gasping and breathy moans as you writhe beneath him in pleasure. Lifting your legs to allow him to get deeper, he rests them on his shoulders as he continues to make love to you, your bodies warm, bare chest flush to bare chest against the warm flames.

“I love you, my light. Merry Christmas.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #i hope you like it!

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