#but that fierce determination and loyalty to see this through
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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )
18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 3
Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.
welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤
Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.
The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.
It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.
“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”
Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.
They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.
While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.
He receives none.
Not that he would accept them if he did.
Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.
He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.
“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”
Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”
Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.
Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.
You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.
He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.
“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.
Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.
Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.
He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.
The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.
He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.
You’ll come.
Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
No sign of you.
He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.
Then you’ll come.
He waits.
Lunch long since over.
He waits.
The day is winding down.
He’s fucking tired of waiting.
Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.
It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”
“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”
She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.
Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.
He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.
Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.
There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.
He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.
“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.
You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”
“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.
You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.
He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.
The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–
You kiss him.
Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.
In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.
“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.
“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.
His brows pinch. “But… That night–”
“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”
“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.
Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.
“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”
A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.
“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.
“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”
“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”
“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.
“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.
“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.
“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.
A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk.
“So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.
He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.
Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.
He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.
“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”
“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.
Fuck yes.
Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.
He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.
That won’t do.
He wants to hear you.
He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.
Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.
“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.
The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.
Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.
Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.
Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.
Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.
You belong to him. He needs only to take you.
One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.
“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.
Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.
You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.
Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.
Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.
I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.
To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”
Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.
Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.
“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.
He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.
“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.
Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.
“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.
His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.
“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.
You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.
His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.
Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.
Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.
He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.
“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.
You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.
“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”
“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.
Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.
“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”
You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.
He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”
“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.
“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.
“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”
He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”
“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.
Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.
“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”
He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”
Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”
The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.
“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”
My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”
You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”
He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”
“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.
“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.
All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.
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If I were greedy…
I spend a disproportionate amount of time appreciating the addition of these four simple words to the "I really wanted to develop these myself…" line in the manga side scene with how much insight they provide the audience into Ray's mindset during this arc.
Greedy people don't pull off successful escapes. Greedy people risk getting their friends killed. Greedy people end up losing everything.
(Chapter 181.1 | Chapter 4)
It's a layered message to Isabella as well.
You've known what I've wanted for a long time now. None of those three things have changed. You don't have to worry about me betraying you.
The way he looks at her when he says it, too; tries to make himself both nonthreatening to not invoke her ire or suspicion, yet aware enough to convey he can still competently complete his side of their agreement (along with a bit of pettiness, wanting to believe he has more control of the situation and not wanting to let it seem like she can pull a fast one on him. Knowing what's to come in less than 48 hours is heartbreaking), all while having the most subtle sad and tired tinge to his eyes and subdued grin to mask it.
(Because what if things were different for the two of them. For all of them.)
He already believes he's asking for so much, and yet…
(Chapter 181.1 | Chapter 93)
They're worth it.
#The Promised Neverland#Yakusoku no Neverland#TPN#FSS Chatter#TPN S1#TPN S1e07#TPN Ray#Ray#Isabella#Norrayemma#Noremray#Full Score Trio#Emma#Norman#Isabella and Ray's Incredibly Fraught and Complicated Relationship Tag#TPN 181.1#TPN 004#TPN 093#Pre-Canon#Introduction Arc#Escape Arc#Goldy Pond Battle Arc#just scrolling through all my drafts here waiting for food to cook like#god i might be tempted to make a REN moodboard edit with him and that caption in the center surrounded by Emma and Norman panels#just need one of him where you can't see his eyes but he's got a tiny smile on or smth#child thinking he's greedy for loving his friends and wanting them to survive a dystopic hell world m'boy's got all the issues 🖤🖤#but that fierce determination and loyalty to see this through#is what makes him being able to grow and see beyond said mindset all the more rewarding and endearing
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HAPPY - E.EDWARDS
paring: Ethan Edwards x fem! reader
word count: 2k
requested? yes - “I want you to be happy,” “I’m happy with you,”with Ethan Edwards! :)
warnings: use of y/n.
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The crisp Michigan air bit at my cheeks as I made my way to the hockey rink. Memories flooded back as I approached the familiar arena, memories of a love lost and a heartache I couldn't forget. It had been months since Ethan and I broke up, but the wounds were still fresh, still raw.
Ethan Edwards. The name alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine. He was the star hockey player for UMich, with a swagger that could make anyone weak in the knees. But behind that cocky smile was a heart that had once belonged to me. A heart I had walked away from.
As I entered the rink, the sound of skates cutting through the ice filled the air. My heart raced as I spotted Ethan on the ice, his every move fluid and graceful. Despite the anger and hurt that still lingered, I couldn't deny the undeniable attraction I still felt for him.
The game began, and the energy in the arena was electrifying. The opposing team was aggressive, and tensions ran high on the ice. Ethan was in the thick of it all, battling fiercely for control of the puck and defending his teammates with unwavering determination.
Midway through the second period, a scuffle broke out between Ethan and an opposing player. Tempers flared, and before I knew it, fists were flying. The crowd held its breath as Ethan traded blows with his opponent, both players refusing to back down.
The fight was intense, a raw display of passion and aggression. But as the referees intervened and broke up the altercation, it was clear that Ethan had come out on top, defending his honor and proving his loyalty to his team.
The game resumed, and Ethan's performance was nothing short of spectacular. Despite the physicality of the match, he continued to showcase his talent, weaving effortlessly through the opposing team and scoring goal after goal.
As the final buzzer sounded, signaling UMich's hard-fought victory, the crowd erupted into cheers. Ethan's teammates surrounded him, celebrating their win and his standout performance.
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I waited for my friend Luca outside the locker room, lost in my thoughts and the memories that the hockey rink evoked. As I scanned the crowd, I felt a presence beside me and turned to find Ethan standing there, his eyes searching mine.
"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Ethan asked, his voice tinged with surprise and uncertainty.
"I wanted to see you play," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.
His eyes searched mine for a moment, filled with a mixture of surprise, longing, and pain. "I've missed you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking. "More than you'll ever know."
Tears welled up in my eyes as I took a shaky breath. "I've missed you too, Ethan," I whispered, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
He reached out, gently grasping my hand. "Please, Y/N," he pleaded, his eyes filled with longing. "Don't go."
"I want you to be happy," I said softly, my voice trembling with emotion as I looked into Ethan's eyes.
Ethan's grip tightened on my hand, his expression filled with a mixture of love and sadness. "I am happy when I'm with you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I've realized that without you, something has always been missing."
"You don't mean that. I was never that person for you," I countered, tears blurring my vision as I pulled my hand away, aching from the vulnerability in Ethan's eyes.
Ethan looked stunned, his gaze never leaving mine. "Y/N, you've always been the one for me," he insisted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I thought I could move on, but no one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do."
"I want to explain, Y/N," Ethan began, his voice gentle yet determined. "When I'm on the ice, playing the game I love, I'm in my element. But it's not the same without you. I find myself looking into the stands, hoping to see your face, hoping to share those moments with you. It's not just about the game; it's about sharing my happiness, my successes, and my life with you."
His words touched my heart, breaking down the walls I had built around myself.
"I miss our late-night conversations, the way you laugh at my silly jokes, and the comfort of having you by my side," Ethan continued, his eyes pleading with me to understand. "You make me happy, Y/N, in ways that no one else ever has or ever will." Ethan confessed, his voice soft and filled with raw emotion. "It's not just the big moments or the exciting times. It's the small things, like the way you laugh at my silly jokes, the comfort of your presence, and the simple joy of sharing my life with you. You complete me in a way I never thought possible."
I was overcome with emotion, the weight of his words sinking deep into my heart. A mixture of love, regret, and hope swirled within me.
"Ethan," I began, my voice shaking as tears filled my eyes, "I've been trying to move on, to find happiness without you. But no matter where I go or what I do, I always end up thinking about you. You've always been a part of me, Ethan, and I can't deny that. But I've also realized that I need to find my own happiness, my own path, before I can truly be with you again."
Ethan looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and pain. "I understand, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want you to be happy, even if that means finding it without me."
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I took a shaky breath, the weight of our shared history and the painful reality of our situation pressing down on me. "Ethan, it's not that I don't want to be with you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "It's just that I need to figure out who I am and what I want, separate from our relationship."
Ethan nodded, his eyes filled with sadness but also a deep understanding. "I respect that, Y/N," he replied, his voice choked with emotion. "Take the time you need. And if, or when, you're ready, I'll be here, waiting for you."
The weight of Ethan's words and the sincerity in his eyes were almost too much to bear. I took a deep breath, gathering my strength and trying to find the right words to convey my feelings without causing more pain.
"Ethan," I began, wiping away my tears, "I can't thank you enough for understanding. It means everything to me."
He gave me a small, sad smile, "Y/N, I'll always want what's best for you. Even if it's not with me right now, I hope that someday it will be."
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The summer had been a whirlwind of emotions for Y/N. After her heart-to-heart with Ethan at the end of the last school year, she found herself unable to stop thinking about him. Every song on the radio, every sunset, and even the simplest things reminded her of him.
She spent her days working, hanging out with friends, and trying to distract herself from the lingering thoughts of Ethan. But no matter how hard she tried, he was always there, in the back of her mind.
One evening, as she sat on her balcony watching the sunset, Y/N found herself lost in thought. The colors of the sky painted a beautiful picture, but all she could think about was Ethan.
She remembered their late-night conversations, the way he made her laugh, and the warmth of his embrace. She thought about the love they shared and the mistakes they had made. She wondered if they could ever find their way back to each other and make things right.
A soft breeze blew, bringing with it the scent of summer flowers. Y/N closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her, feeling a mixture of sadness and hope.
She knew that she needed to talk to Ethan, to share her feelings and find out if there was still a chance for them. The thought of facing him again was both terrifying and exciting, but she knew it was the only way to move forward.
Taking a deep breath, Y/N made a decision. She would go to Ethan's room and tell him how she felt, no matter the outcome. She couldn't continue to live with the regret of not trying to make things right.
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The leaves had started to change, and there was a crispness in the air that signaled the beginning of a new school year at UMich. Y/N found herself standing in front of Ethan's dormitory building, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart before walking up the steps and knocking on his door.
The door opened, revealing Ethan's surprised yet welcoming face. "Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Can I come in?" Y/N asked, biting her lip nervously.
"Of course," Ethan replied, stepping aside to let her in.
Y/N walked into Ethan's room, taking a moment to glance around at the familiar surroundings. Memories of their time together flooded back, making her heart ache with longing and love.
Ethan closed the door behind her, his eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "Is everything okay, Y/N?"
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turned to face Ethan, her eyes filled with determination. "Ethan, I've been doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching over the past year. And I've come to realize something very important."
Ethan looked at her intently, sensing the seriousness of her words. "What is it, Y/N?"
"I love you, Ethan," Y/N declared, her voice trembling with emotion. "I've tried to deny it, to push it away, but I can't escape the truth. I love you, and I want to be with you."
Ethan's eyes widened in shock, his heart racing as he processed Y/N's confession. A flood of emotions washed over him - surprise, joy, relief, and overwhelming love.
"Y/N," Ethan whispered, stepping closer to her, "I've loved you since the moment I met you, and hearing you say that now means everything to me."
Y/N's eyes filled with tears of happiness as Ethan pulled her into his arms, holding her close. The weight of their past mistakes and the uncertainty of the future seemed to melt away, replaced by the love and connection that had always been there.
They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, knowing that they had finally found their way back to each other. The next school year was sure to be filled with new challenges and adventures, but one thing was certain: Ethan and Y/N were meant to be together, and their love story was far from over.
Pulling back slightly, Ethan looked into Y/N's eyes with a soft smile. "I've missed you so much, Y/N. I've dreamt of this moment every day."
Y/N's heart swelled with love and happiness as she brushed a tear from Ethan's cheek. "I've missed you too, Ethan. And I promise, this time, we'll make it work."
Ethan nodded, his eyes shining with love and hope. "I know we will, Y/N. Because no matter what, we have each other. And that's all that matters."
Feeling a surge of joy and contentment, Y/N leaned in and pressed her lips to Ethan's, sealing their love and commitment to each other once more. The kiss was soft, sweet, and full of promise for the future.
As they pulled apart, Ethan wrapped his arms around Y/N, holding her close and resting his chin on her head. They stood there in comfortable silence, savoring the warmth and love of their reunion.
Took a different take to this idea!
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Hi Mer pretty! Its Camii
Congratulations on the 200f ♡♡♡
Can I request 6 with Crocodile? I just love my Crocoboy uwu
fem or gn reader is fine to me, however you feel more comfortable! And nsfw. THANKS ♡
Cami, lovely!! So happy to see you pop in and request this! I love Crocoboy too, so I was super excited to write this for you! I hope you like it 💜💜
A guarded heart
CW: NSFW!!! MDNI!! fem!reader, angsty, vaginal penetration, mutual masturbation
Having worked alongside Crocodile for those few years, you were able to consider yourself one of the lucky few to be granted access to his inner circle. Your loyalty, determination, and honesty were all qualities he valued in you. He hadn't necessarily favored the 'wearing your heart on your sleeve' quality before, yet you were the exception―as you were with many things.
Through the hurdles thrown at you to further test your commitment to him, you always came out on top, earning you the most subtle hint at praise. With the countless displays of your devotion to him, he grew fond of you: you had proven to be dependable, fierce, but also tender and kind towards him. Seeing such a side to you uncovered a deep want in him, one that'd been burried underneath years of pain―to be loved.
Although you could easily predict how trying a romantic aspect to your relationship would be, you'd be lying to yourself if you said he didn't have a tight hold on your heart. You'd been admiring him for quite awhile, and such admiration formed into longing. Taking such a risk with Crocodile would be your most significant test of your devotion to him. If you were able to outlast his frigid behavior and break down his walls, you'd earn the greatest prize you'd ever know and this was the immense source of your motivation.
As time passed, your relationship with Crocodile was proving to be difficult: his icy demeanor, the spiked heart he kept under lock and key, his line of work. In spite of all these demotivations, there were glimmers of hope that you were getting through to him, making the struggles worth while: his appreciative look, the soft caress of your cheek and jaw.
Such tender moments made you melt, yet they were abruptly snatched from you as you could feel your progress regress just as you were under the impression you were getting somewhere. You were getting too close to him, your words were far too sweet and caring, which blared the alarms. Fear and doubt crept in―you could see it in his eyes―you would eventually betray him. Being pushed away was undoubtedly tearing down your will to push forth.
Not being able to deny yourself to experience the heartache shaking your core, your silent cries rang throughout the room. You now had his undivided attention. Going over to you was done on an impulse, and as he brought up his hand in an attempt to soothe your woes, he hesitated. What could he do or even say?
His hand found itself on your shoulder, offering you a slight reassurance in his touch. It wasn't as if he wanted to be guarded with you, yet these shackles from his past continued to hold back any possibility of forming a meaningful future with you. Oh, how he yearned to feel your warmth on him. Granting him the luxury of getting lost in your light seemed just out of reach. Letting the cold-blooded reptile in deprivation of basking in the rays of his heart-warming lover, was something he was reluctant to indulge in.
The faint rub from his thumb when paired with his concerned gaze, made you want to assure him that you understood he still needed time to come around. "I can accept that breaking down your walls will take time, but I can't deny the heartache I feel when you push me away time and time again."
As honesty coupled your sorrowful words, he admitted, "I'm trying, I'm actually really trying..." There was a muffled twinge of pain he shared with how he was treating you.
You took a step forward when the window to his soul was just beginning to open, drawing you closer to help comfort the inner termoil he must be fighting against just to stay afloat. Despite his tough exterior, his eyes indicated that he was in dire need of your warm touch.
"I see that you're trying, but you don't have to keep your struggles to yourself anymore," running your hand down his chest, you could feel his heartbeat quicken.
Letting this moment slip between his fingers was not in the cards. Swiftly, he leaned down to capture those lips he'd been craving for far too long.
Your hunger for physical affection matched his own, leaving the both of you subject to the wild fires of passion raging within. Feeling you gripping at the fabric collected above his belt sent him into a frenzy―his worsening starvation could only be satiated by the intimacy from his dearly beloved.
Forcing your skirt up, he tugged at your tights and panties, causing a sharp gasp to leave your reddened lips. Having such a blissful noise fall on his ears only enticed him to satisfy his growing need for you.
Swooping you up in his arms, he carried you over to the couch, never letting his eyes leave yours so as not to let the electrifying connection falter.
Plopping you down, you couldn't help but let a groan pass through you. Seeing you in such a flustered state awoke the beast within him which had been dormant. Leaning over you, his want was backed by a searing kiss. With the sudden thrill of the events unfolding more quickly by the moment, you pawed at his belt in an attempt to unbuckle it, though your concentration was being tugged in mutliple directions.
With one swift motion, he finished undressing your lower half, leaving your breasts peeking out from under your untucked blouse. Eyeing your twitching slit, he promptly shoved two fingers in not even considering how much he'd stretch you past your capabilities.
Yelping at the sudden assault, you clawed your fingers into his thighs, earning yourself a rumbling moan from your eager lover. This time being able to firmly grasp his belt buckle, you yanked it off and impatiently wrapped your fingers around his aching length, which already had precum beading from the overpowering thrill.
As he rammed his fingers inside you, you had his cock settled against the back of your thigh, helping you stimmulate the intimidating girth yearning to break you in half.
With making the other pant from the increasing build up, neither of you could further resist temptation; watching him line up with your sopping wet folds, you clentched at the cushions. Feeling him ease into you sent shockwaves prickling throughout each fiber of your being.
Pumping in and out of you was becoming increasingly more difficult for the two of you―such gratification of finally relishing in the other's touch was testing his self-restraint more than yours. The hitched breaths, the lows moans, the sounds of skin slapping: they were attacking each sense of his.
Despite him having held on for as long as he had, the constrictions of your spasming walls took him by utter surprise―just barely escaping releasing in you, he hurridly finished on your weakened form. Being doused in his hot streams of arousal made your chest heave from remnants of euphoria nipping at you.
Easing yourselves down from your high, he cupped your face and placed a tender kiss upon your forehead. Offering him a gentle smile, he didn't return it, although his gaze lead you to believe he was far less guarded now.
#follower event#one piece#x reader#one piece x reader#one piece imagine#one piece x you#op#one piece smut#one piece sir crocodile#one piece crocodile#crocodile#crocodile one piece#sir crocodile#crocodile x reader#crocodile x you#sir crocodile x reader#crocodile smut#sir crocodile smut
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Demo: TBA
Guinevere is a text-based interactive fiction that draws inspiration from the rich tapestry of Arthurian Legends.
You will play as Guinevere and witness the journey toward gaining power and the struggles to keep your reign secure in a kingdom filled with political intrigue and external threats.
In the future, I plan to make Guinevere gender-selectable, and also make Arthur the opposite gender of the MC. However, for the time being, I would like to keep the story as it is until I can better determine the direction in which the narrative is heading.
For many years, people believed that dragons were untamable creatures until one man proved them all wrong. Armed with a mighty sword and a formidable dragon by his side, Arthur set out with his army to conquer all of Britain and bring it under his rule. Unfortunately, your kingdom has found itself standing in the way of Arthur's quest for a united Britain.
Choose Guinevere's gender (Soon!)
Customize your MC’s physical appearance.
Make tough and important decisions that affect you and everyone around you.
Four romances that the story heavily focuses on.
Have a dragon by your side and fight Arthur in the skies!
Form a family.
The fate of the realm rests on a knife's edge - it can either flourish under your leadership or crumble to its ultimate demise.
"To achieve the greater good, one must first attain the power to make it a reality."
Arthur Pendragon: King of Camelot and the founder of the Round Table Order.
He is a man of few words, with a cold and aloof demeanor that can make him seem unapproachable. He prefers to keep to himself and often retreats into his own world. Despite his reserved nature, he is a strong leader who inspires loyalty and devotion in those around him.
His golden blonde hair and piercing grey eyes add to his air of regal authority and make him a striking figure. Though he may seem distant at times, he has a deep sense of honor and duty, and will stop at nothing to protect his people and his kingdom.
Will you be able to crack his armor and discover what hides beneath?
"Your ignorance is truly awe-inspiring. I can only hope to one day reach your level of blissful unawareness."
Morgana Le Fay: She is a mysterious and intriguing woman, known for her use of sarcasm to keep others at bay. Her sharp wit and biting comments often serve as a shield, protecting her from anyone getting too close.
Despite her sarcastic demeanor, Morgana is an intelligent and perceptive individual. She has a keen sense of observation and is quick to pick up on the nuances of the people around her. Her green eyes are piercing and seem to see right through anyone who tries to deceive her.
Morgana's inky black hair is often styled in loose waves that frame her pale skin. She has an ethereal beauty that can be both captivating and intimidating. Her presence commands attention, and it's clear that she is not someone to be trifled with.
She's been hurt in the past and is hesitant to let anyone get too close to her. But for those who are willing to take the time to get to know her, Morgana can be a true and loyal friend or even something more.
"When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I don't know what that means, but I, Sir Lancelot du Lac, never back down from a challenge."
Sir Lancelot du Lac: A knight is known for his charm, boldness, and impulsive nature. He has a reputation for being a ladies' man, with many admirers who swoon at his feet. Standing tall with a strong build and chiseled jaw, he is a man who commands attention wherever he goes. His dark brown hair and deep blue eyes add to his allure, making him a true heartthrob among the ladies.
Sir Lancelot is a skilled and dedicated knight who takes his duties seriously. He is fiercely loyal to his king and the Round Table and will stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about. His impulsive nature can sometimes get him into trouble, but his quick thinking and bravery always manage to save the day. His bravery and courage have earned him respect among many.
Before meeting you, he never found duty to be burdensome. Now he feels it weight more pressing every day.
"I hate you with every fiber of my being, but I can't seem to shake the strange pull you have on me."
Hey, just so you know, you could totally have a poly thing with both her and Arthur. Just throwing it out there. 🙈
Argante: Merlin's daughter and Arthur's childhood friend.
Argante is a complex and intriguing woman, born of the union between a fae and a half-human, she possesses unique abilities that she often uses to aid Arthur on his various journeys and battles. Her loyalty to Arthur is unwavering, and she is always ready to lend her formidable powers to his cause.
Despite her fierce loyalty, Argante can be possessive and quick to anger. Her emotions often run high, and she is not one to back down from a challenge. The complete opposite of her father, Merlin.
Argante's appearance is just as striking as her personality. Her snowy white hair and purple eyes create an otherworldly picture, the very air shimmering around her presence adding to the mirage. It's no wonder that many are drawn to her, be it out of fear or admiration.
Argante despises you with a fiery passion that burns deep through her every time she catches a glimpse of your face. In her eyes, you are the thief who stole the man of her dreams - the one she had loved for years.
And yet… there is another side to her that sometimes emerges whenever she catches glimpses of you. This side of her seems to yearn for your attention and affection, creating a peculiar dichotomy that is difficult to comprehend.
If you could somehow break through the wall of anger and resentment that Argante has built, and show her that you are not the enemy, there might be a chance to win her over. You might even be able to establish a relationship with both her and Arthur.
#guinevere#interactive fiction#interactive novel#choice of games#choicescript#dashingdon#hosted games#if: intro#if game#cyoa#masterpost#hg#cog
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(Left to right) your future spouse’s favorite things about you
Pile 1
I see that one of their favorite things about you is how comfortable and relaxed they are around you, they love how talking to you gives them clarity or you’re very good at advice. I see that they will love how you’re sweet and inviting but at the same time you don’t let people get too close, they love how you’re someone who avoids conflict but you won’t back down from it. They’ll love how determined and motivated you are, they’ll love how much you inspire them and push them to be greater. One of their favorite things about you is that your energy makes them let down their guard. Signs- Scorpio/Taurus. Initials- D, M, E
Pile 2
I see that they’ll love how feisty you are and how defensive you are or how you intimidate them, they’ll love how adaptable you are and how comfortable you are with change. I see that you may have a transformation or you may change a lot while you’re with them, I see that theyll love how resilient you are and how you don’t give up or how you don’t succumb to your setbacks. I see that they’ll love how you seem “prickly” on the outside but on the inside you’re very kind and welcoming, one of their favorite things about you is how many layers you have. Signs- libra/Taurus. Initials- B, U, S, T, Z, C
Pile 3
I see that one of their favorite things about you is your intuition and how knowledgeable you are, they love how diverse you are and adaptable. They love how grounded you are and abundant, one of their favorite things about you is that you’re a great gift giver or the way you show love. They love your style and your voice, they love how strong your presence is and how fierce you are. They love how strong your boundaries are and how passionate you are about the people you love, they’ll love how easy it is for you to make connections or how friendly/outgoing you are. One of their favorite things about you is how good you take care of them or how stable you are, they’ll love how it takes a lot for you to get in a bad mood or you’re very optimistic. Signs- Aquarius/Gemini, initials- L, E, W, X
Pile 4
I see that one of their favorite things about you will be your loyalty/faithfulness and how at peace you make them feel, they’ll love how harmonious the connection is. They’ll love how you guys barely argue or how you guys can work through things and always come back together, one of their favorite things about you is how you’ll be very alluring and magnetic but you’ll still play hard to get. They’ll love how kind or caring you are. Signs- Gemini/Aquarius, initials- G, A, T
Please watch my pick a card reading on YouTube, personal readings always available
youtube
#taurus#capricorn#gemini#leo#earth signs#intuitive#tarot#tarotcommunity#oracle#intuitive readings#oracle reading#tarot reading#cartomancy#spirituality#pac#tarot readers of tumblr#tarotblr#tarot cards#oraclereader#intuitive reader#intuitive reading#card divination#divination#tarot pac#oracle reader#viral#tarot pick a pile#future spouse#love pick a card#prediction
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i hate that i love you
pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader
tags/warnings: sexual content, established friendship, cheating, hatefucking, fingerfucking, service top!shane, power bottom!reader (mdni, 18+)
a/n: this is my angst attempt. as per usual, i have to add smut to it. still rubbing my brain cells together for some fluffy ideas. enjoy :)
"I can't fucking believe you, Shane."
Who were you kidding? You knew her; this was inevitable.
Monogamy was uncharted territory for Shane. There was a reason she was so hesitant to commit to any romantic relationship when the opportunity presented itself. When things got stagnant, she got fidgety. Her eyes wandered and before she even knew it, she was leaving a trail of broken hearts and crushed egos in her wake.
As one of her closest friends, you understood how Shane operated. You've come to accept everything that came with her. Each night there was a new woman in Shane's bed and each night you were kept awake by the constant reminder that what you wanted would always be out of reach.
From the beginning, the lothario's charms never worked on you. According to Alice, you were impervious to the Shane test since they met you. Whether it be your strong will or grounded sense of self-worth, you refused to be wooed by the shaggy-haired ladykiller you now shared a house with.
But as your friendship deepened, pesky feelings began to brew in the pit of your stomach. Unlike the women she slept with, your friendship allowed you to see Shane in a three-dimensional light. Her fierce loyalty to her friends, immense love for those close to her, and unwavering determination to meet her goals dragged you further and further down a rabbit hole you weren't prepared to venture through.
You despised the way your heart would hammer in your ribcage anytime she flashed a genuine grin your way. You hated how meaningless touches made your stomach flip and your breath hitch. And you loathed sitting through any conversation that included Shane fucking a woman that wasn't you. But no matter how frequently you recognized your feelings, you could not pursue them.
You heard those women when they left your house. A switch flickered on for most of them but the ones who didn't realize soon enough were left devastated. There would be no next time. There were no feelings to talk about. It was just about the sex.
Shane needed to stay your friend.
So you did what you did best; you swallowed your feelings and shoved them down deep into your gut. This was an act of self-preservation.
It didn't take long for you to find someone else. She was sweet, compassionate, and most importantly, could commit to a relationship. It was what you needed and what you couldn't get from Shane. You've been dating steadily for a month now. A blissful, healthy month may you add. You had even introduced her to your friends who were thrilled by the new addition.
Except Shane.
Any time you brought your girlfriend along or even mentioned her to Shane, her mood did a one-eighty. She was uncharacteristically colder, more aloof, and found any excuse to leave you sooner than necessary. Saying it hurt would be putting it lightly. You expected Shane—as one of your closest friends—to support you the same way she did for Alice, Bette, and the rest of the ladies. Was your happiness less important to her than everyone else's?
Apparently so.
Tonight, you were coming home from Tina and Bette's house. They had asked you if you could watch Angie and naturally, you agreed. As you made your way up to your front door, it opened on its own, revealing your girlfriend. She was in a wrinkled dress, had unkempt hair, and smudged makeup across her face. The two of you locked eyes and she visibly paled. Like a deer in headlights, she froze, lower lip trembling. Without a word, she ducked away from your sight and hurried away. Looking into your house you saw Shane sitting at the kitchen table, hurriedly closing the clasp of her belt.
This instigated the current screaming match you and Shane were currently participating in.
"She didn't tell me she was seeing anyone!" Shane yelled, elbows digging into the hardwood table as she cupped her head in her hands. You paced around restlessly, gritting your teeth before snapping your attention back at her.
"I've brought her over here before, Shane—you met her numerous times already! Were you too busy shoving your tongue in her cunt to notice?"
Shane's lips mashed shut at your response, eyes trained on the floor. She had no response and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you threw your hands up.
"You don't even fucking care," you breathed, pulling the chair across from her out so you could sit down. "Why do you not fucking care?"
"I'm sorry," she starts, and no, no she is not sorry. If she was sorry, she wouldn't have done this to begin with. Shane wouldn't have fucked your now ex-girlfriend—she finally decided to try calling you by the way, not like you were going to pick up now—in your own house.
"Bullshit."
Your anger churned in your gut and seared up to your throat like bile. The rage triggered your buried feelings for Shane, melding them together into something that made you physically sick. Right now, you hated yourself more than Shane. This was a grave offense and here you were, wanting nothing more than to crush her face between your legs. You wanted to yank her by her hair, part her lips, and shove yourself down until she was gasping for air. Digging half moons into your palms, you stared daggers into her head.
"Why did you do it?"
Shane is silent, but you can almost feel the gears turning in her head. She wants to say something, but she refuses.
"Shane."
Nothing.
"Shane, look at me."
She obeys instantaneously, jerking her head up to meet your gaze.
"Why did you do it?" You ask again, each word staccato as you wring your hands into fists.
"She wasn't good for you." she finally replies and you laugh in disbelief.
"So what is good for me, Shane? Is being cheated on good for me? Is my friend taking part in that good for me too?"
"No—"
"Then why did you do it?" Your voice slides an octave higher, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You can feel your throat begin to close as a stray tear rolls down your face. Quickly, you brush it away.
"Because I love you."
That does it.
The dam in your chest breaks and you finally cry. Shane is stunned, plastered to her seat as she watches you rack into sobs. Gently, her hand slides forward on the table, finding your hand. You recoil as if she slapped you and she retreats back to her side of the table.
"No, fuck you; you don't get to say that to me." Not when you spent all this time getting over how you felt about Shane. You couldn't go backward.
But a sick, nasty part of you reveled in the proclamation. It was warped validation that everything you've felt for her was reciprocated. It satisfied you in a primal way and your stomach twisted itself into knots over it. Not even bothering to filter out your rampant thoughts, you ask her the question burning on your tongue.
"How did you fuck her?"
The silence after you spoke was deafening. Shane's eyes are wider than saucers.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
She looked at you like a cornered animal.
"I—" you get out of your chair, stalking around the table before standing in front of her. Glaring down at her, your hands find themselves on the arms of her chair. You lean in slowly—predatorily—before speaking again.
"Show me, Shane. Since you love me so much." Your voice cracks from crying, but the venom drips from every word.
Shane's throat bobs as she swallows. Her hands are on your hips, dragging you forward. You're already working on the button of your pants, unzipping swiftly before shoving them down your knees. Your underwear comes off soon after and both garments are abandoned on the floor.
Cautiously, she beckons you forward. You comply, lowering yourself into her lap. Your cunt brushes against the rough denim of her jeans and you refrain from groaning. An arm hooks low around your hips while her dominant hand worms itself between your legs. Her digits find the wet slick of your pussy and she glances up at you.
You nod.
She plunges two fingers inside of you. Your walls immediately adjust to the intrusion, stretching deliciously. The moan escapes your lips and you teeter in Shane's lap. Your lips meet the junction of Shane's neck and you bite down roughly. Smoothing the newly forming bruise with your tongue, you sneer at the way Shane hisses.
"Faster."
She adjusts her wrist and immediately hastens her pace. Her fingers are like a piston, thrusting in and out. They curl against the spongy wall of your pussy and you throw your head back, breath shaky. Your hips swivel in rhythm with her thrusts, taking every ounce of pleasure Shane willingly gave.
The edges of your vision begin to darken as you feel the heel of Shane's hand rub against your clit. You gasp, rutting aggressively into her touch as she continues fingerfucking you. Your hands thread themselves in her hair, pulling down to expose the curve of her neck. Moaning, you leave a trail of hickeys down her throat, smirking at the way her face contorts in painful pleasure. She curls her fingers inside of you at just the right angle and you finally cum with a shout.
Your body goes rigid as your knees buckle into her sides. Bobbing on Shane's fingers, you don't stop until the high of your orgasm subsides and reality comes crashing down around you. Swiftly, you pull yourself off of Shane's lap before disappearing into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You return a few minutes later, sliding your underwear and pants back on.
Shane is still glued to her chair. Her fingers are still coated in your slick and she has not made the effort to wipe them off yet. She stares at you numbly and you begin to walk towards the front door.
"I'll be gone by the end of the week, Shane. Then you can fuck whomever else you want in here."
There will be no next time. There are no more feelings to talk about. It was just about the sex.
Shane could no longer be your friend.
#shane mccutcheon#shane mccutcheon x reader#shane mccutcheon imagine#the l word#the l word imagine#tlw fandom#tlw#smut#fanfic#fanfiction#wlw#lesbian#wlw nsft#lesbian nsft#lgbtq#lgbt nsft
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Hey guys! I'm back to talk about something that I've been thinking about for a solid week and I'm ready to info dump.
So, I've been thinking about just how much Percy and Luke are the same character. They are so much the same and it's really amazing just how much detail and thought Rick put into making it where Luke and Percy go through so many of the same things and life experiences.
Like, It's something that I had noticed from the beginning, but it wasn't until just recently when I reread some parts from The lightning thief, and the from The diary of Luke short story, that I realized just how similar Luke and Percy are.
Let's start with just the way both of their characters are written. They both have the same underlying anger towards their fathers for leaving their mother's alone to deal with terrible things. In Sally's case, that is Gabe. In May's case it's the curse of Delphi that has driven her insane.
Both Luke and Percy have the same feelings of self doubt. The way they treat and talk to their friends or people they consider important, are very much the same. They act the same towards people who they don't know and don't trust. They have that same underlying snarky humor. It was scary how when I was reading TDoL, that I thought I was just reading something from Percy's pov.
And that's far from all of it! Another thing that I realized that they have in common is that there is a character that represents the promises that they couldn't keep or fullfil. Let me explain.
With Luke, that character is Annabeth. In TDoL, Luke promises Annabeth that Thalia and he would be her family. Did he know how to even be a family given that he had never had one? No. But he was going to try for Annabeth. However, he wasn't able to keep that promise, especially with Kronos brain washing and manipulating him. Breaking that promise is something that he feels guilty for all the way to his death. It was a constant reminder that he had failed those he held dear.
With Percy, that character is Nico. In The Titans Curse, Nico makes Percy promise that he would protect Bianca and make sure that nothing happens to her. Percy says that he's not sure if he could do that. He had no idea he would even be able to protect himself, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't try to keep his promise to Nico. Unfortunately, he's not able to and Bianca dies. He wasn't able to keep his promise and that guilt follows him. And Nico himself was a reminder for sometime of the promise that Percy wasn't able to keep.
So in short, Nico is to Percy what Annabeth was to Luke. A physical manifestation of their inadequacy and failure.
Both Percy's and Luke's stories have so many parallels to them and it's quite clear to see. Which is why I find it a bit funny when others say that, "Percy would've never done what Luke did!" To which I have to say, "are you sure?"
Because really, there would've only needed to be one major change and Percy could've easily ended up in Luke's position. If Sally wouldn't have been a strong pillar for Percy. If she would've ended up like May, it would've been quite easy to get Percy to change sides. Because it's quite evident that Percy loves Sally and would do anything if it meant making her happy and keeping her protected. If Kronos would've went to Percy instead and promised to help Sally and keep her protected, Percy would've joined him. Because let's not forget that Percy's fatal flaw being loyalty gets him into some rough situations if he thinks that he'll be able to help or save a loved one. It would've been easy for Kronos to manipulate him like that.
The only main difference with Percy and Luke, is that if Percy would've been the one that Kronos was able to manipulate into being his vessel? He would've won. With Percy's amazing power and strength combined with the power of Kronos, the gods would've never stood a chance. Not to say that Luke didn't have his strengths. He was cunning and charming. He had a fierce determination to see change. He was able to rally others to his cause.
However, Percy also shows those same attributes in his own journey. There is a reason why everyone else at Camp Half Blood so willingly rallied behind him and trusted him as leader, and it wasn't just because of the amount of times he had saved the world at that point. There was a reason why so many people were drawn to Percy, and not all of it was just Aphrodite playing with his love life.
Long story short, Luke and Percy are basically the same character with just how much they have in common, and I think it's time that we talk about it more 😌💜
(Ps. Sorry I wasn't on here for a good bit. I'm ok, life has just been... Rough. But I'm back to my usual delusional ramblings again 😌👌)
#but seriously#i could write a whole essay on this#because there are just that many parallels that it insane#luke castellan#percy jackon and the olympians#pjoverse#percy jackson#nico di angelo#riordanverse#nico pjo#hoo fandom#annabeth chase
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Fix the broken
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Abstract: In a tale of love, resilience, and redemption, Y/N, an Avenger battling an eating disorder, finds strength in the unwavering support of her partner, Natasha Romanoff. Together, they navigate the turbulent waters of recovery, facing setbacks and moments of despair, but always rising to the challenge as a team. Through love, understanding, and determination, they discover that healing is possible, and their bond emerges even stronger.
TW: !!ED!! ED!!
I'm struggling with this ATM and I'm trying not to go back to old ways so this is a way of comfort. Hopefully it will help someone else.
Y/N Y/L/N had always been a formidable avenger. Her strength, determination, and unwavering loyalty were qualities that had drawn Natasha Romanoff to her in the first place. Yet, beneath the fierce exterior, there were battles she fought in silence, battles that waged inside her own mind.
It all began with a careless comment from a teammate, a thoughtless remark about her appearance. Y/N had been in recovery from a long and painful struggle with eating disorders, a battle that she thought she had conquered. But that single comment had set off a chain reaction in her mind, reopening old wounds and reviving the demons she thought were vanquished.
She knew, deep down, that the comment was unjust and cruel. She knew that she looked great, that her strength was her most powerful asset. But her own brain had turned against her, poisoning her thoughts and making her own body the enemy.
Y/N decided to keep her turmoil hidden. She couldn't let anyone see her weakness, not even Natasha, the person she loved most in the world. So, she resolved to subtly regain control over her thoughts, to satisfy the cruel voices in her mind.
For two weeks, she meticulously crafted a facade of normalcy. Y/N started by skipping breakfast whenever she could, convincing herself that it was a small sacrifice for the sake of control. Lunch became a meager affair, barely enough to sustain her energy. Dinner was reduced to a token portion, and she often found solace in a small bowl of ice cream, the only indulgence she allowed herself.
In the beginning, Natasha didn't notice. Y/N was a master of disguise, concealing her inner turmoil behind a mask of determination. But as the days turned into weeks, the subtle changes couldn't be ignored.
Natasha Romanoff had noticed the subtle changes in Y/N Y/L/N over the past two weeks. The sparkle in her eyes had dimmed, her energy levels plummeted, and she had become like a ghost, haunting the Avengers' compound with a hollow look. Natasha's concern grew with each passing day, but she couldn't pinpoint the cause of Y/N's distress.
One day, Natasha decided to follow Y/N discreetly. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. As she shadowed Y/N throughout the day, she witnessed a heartbreaking transformation.
She watched as Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes filled with self-doubt and frustration. Y/N's sigh was heavy, a silent cry for help that Natasha could barely bear. She watched as Y/N approached her meals with reluctance, as if eating had become a dreaded chore rather than a source of sustenance.
By the end of that long day of observation, Natasha's heart was heavy with dread. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, and she realized the depth of Y/N's struggle. She knew she had to intervene, to offer the support and love that Y/N needed.
That evening, Natasha confronted Y/N gently. She spoke with warmth and empathy, assuring Y/N that she was loved and cherished just the way she was. She promised to stand by her side in this battle, to help her conquer the demons that had resurfaced.
Natasha observed Y/N's attempt to put on a brave front, but she could see through the facade. Y/N's fake smile didn't fool her for a moment.
"Y/N," Natasha began gently, "how about we go to dinner, dorogoy?"
Y/N's smile faltered as she quickly replied, "Oh, I can't, my stomach is feeling weird, so I'm not really hungry."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, concern etched across her face. "But you just said you were okay a minute ago."
Y/N's smile faltered even more as she tried to come up with another lie, but she ended up stuttering and failing with a sigh. Natasha reached out, holding Y/N's hand gently.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" Natasha asked softly.
Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she mumbled, "I think it's back."
Natasha sighed but remained calm. "I know, dorogoy. I noticed how you are lately. I just...why didn't you come to me?"
Y/N shrugged, her voice trembling. "I didn't want to worry you. Also, like any addiction, my sick brain didn't want me to tell you, so you don't stop me from spiraling into the mess my brain is."
Natasha's eyes welled up with tears, but she held them back, knowing she needed to be strong for Y/N. She asked gently, "What made you spiral in the first place?"
Y/N hesitated before saying, "I can't tell you."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her concern deepening. "Did I do something? If I did, I'm so sorry..."
Y/N cut her off, saying, "No, not you, love. It was somebody else, but I can't tell you because you'll kill them."
Natasha's jaw tightened, but she managed a forced smile. "I won't, but just tell me... okay, maybe I will have a little talk with them, but I won't punch them... at least not too hard."
Y/N chuckled at her girlfriend's attempt to hide her anger. She explained, "My teammate made a comment that I gained some weight, and that's what made me spiral."
Natasha's tone softened, and she held Y/N even tighter. "Love, you look incredible, and you're perfect. Don't listen to that idiot."
Y/N finally broke down, tears streaming down her face. "Natasha, what am I doing wrong? No matter how hard I try, it's like the people around me, who are bigger than me, are all ignored for their weight. No matter how much they don't care about actually keeping their weight in check, meanwhile, I gain like a kilo or two, and everybody notices and complains about it. Natasha, I don't know what to do. Everyone only loves me when I'm skinny, and I can't keep up with this cycle anymore."
Natasha pulled Y/N onto her lap, holding her tightly and rubbing her back soothingly. "I know it's hard, and people can be assholes. But I need you to understand that you look amazing, and there's no need to jump back into the hole you tried so desperately to get out of. You're too strong for that now."
Natasha could see the storm of emotions raging within Y/N, but she couldn't back down. She couldn't stand by and watch the person she loved suffer like this. Determination filled her eyes as she went to the kitchen made food and then offered the plate of food to Y/N.
"Please, Y/N," she implored, her voice soft but unwavering, "You have to eat. I can't bear to see you like this."
Y/N's resolve began to waver as Natasha's words reached her. She knew Natasha was right, but the grip of her eating disorder was a relentless beast. Her body and mind rebelled against the idea of taking in more calories, of surrendering to the food that had become her tormentor.
Natasha, not willing to give up, sat on Y/N's hips, straddling her as she held her down gently. Y/N's heart raced as she felt Natasha's weight upon her, a physical reminder of her love's unwavering commitment to her well-being.
With steady hands, Natasha scooped up a spoonful of the meal and brought it to Y/N's lips. Y/N's mouth remained shut, her lips sealed tight against the intrusion. But Natasha persisted, her determination unshaken. She gently coaxed Y/N to open her mouth, her eyes locked onto Y/N's with a mix of love and desperation.
Y/N fought back tears, feeling a swirl of emotions inside her. She resented Natasha for making her face this fear head-on, but she also knew deep down that Natasha was doing it out of love, out of fear for her well-being. She took the first reluctant bite, the taste of the food unfamiliar and heavy on her tongue.
As Natasha continued to feed her, spoonful by spoonful, Y/N's resistance slowly crumbled. She felt a strange mix of anger, frustration, and relief. Angry at herself for falling back into this dark place, frustrated that Natasha had to resort to this, and relieved that she wasn't alone in this battle.
The meal seemed to stretch on forever, each bite a reminder of the ongoing war inside Y/N's mind. Natasha's hands remained steady, her presence unwavering. She whispered words of encouragement and love between each bite, assuring Y/N that she was there for her, that they would get through this together.
When the last morsel was consumed, Y/N's stomach felt heavy and bloated, a painful reminder of the meal. Natasha continued to hold her in place for half an hour, ensuring that there was no attempt to purge. Y/N's frustration and anger had given way to exhaustion and resignation.
Finally, Natasha released her, her eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry I had to do that," she repeated, her voice laced with sorrow.
Y/N remained silent, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She felt defeated, trapped, and utterly exhausted by the battle that raged within her. She turned away from Natasha, unable to meet her gaze, and left her alone in the room, struggling to come to terms with the love and concern that surrounded her.
Natasha watched Y/N go, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. She knew that this was just one battle in a long and challenging war, but she was willing to fight alongside Y/N, no matter how tough it got.
..
The following day, Natasha noticed a glimmer of hope. As she entered the kitchen, she saw Y/N eating a small lunch, a faint smile playing on her lips. Natasha couldn't help but smile herself as she leaned in to kiss Y/N's cheek.
"How's your day so far, babygirl?" Natasha inquired, her voice filled with warmth.
Y/N shrugged, still smiling. "It's alright. How about you?"
They continued their pleasant conversation, savoring the moments of normalcy. Natasha cherished these moments, relishing in the simple joy of seeing Y/N eat and smile.
However, their moment of tranquility was interrupted when Y/N's phone rang. She excused herself and walked out of the room to take the call. Natasha felt a pang of anxiety as a few minutes passed without Y/N's return.
Her gut churned with a gnawing feeling that something was wrong. She couldn't ignore her instincts any longer. Natasha walked to the nearby bathroom, her steps growing heavier with each approaching moment. It was there that she heard the unmistakable sounds of someone throwing up.
Without hesitation, Natasha burst into the bathroom and pulled Y/N back from the toilet. Her voice was a mixture of concern and frustration as she demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"
Y/N wiped her mouth, her eyes avoiding Natasha's gaze. "I got sick."
Natasha groaned, her patience wearing thin. "Stop lying, Y/N. I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself."
Y/N pushed herself away from Natasha, her voice trembling with frustration. "Just let me go."
She left the room, leaving Natasha standing there, torn between her desire to help and the realization that Y/N was struggling to accept that help.
Later that day, Natasha searched for Y/N all around the compound, growing increasingly worried when she couldn't find her. Eventually, she turned to Jarvis for assistance, asking him where Y/N was.
Jarvis responded, "Y/N is in Wanda's room."
Natasha hurried to Wanda's room, and when she entered, she saw Y/N asleep on Wanda, her cheeks stained with tears. Wanda was gently playing with Y/N's hair, a look of concern on her face.
Natasha approached quietly, her voice soft as she asked, "Is she okay?"
Wanda sighed and shook her head. "No, she's really upset. She feels like you're mad at her."
Natasha's heart ached as she realized the impact her earlier outburst had on Y/N. "I just want to help her," she whispered.
Wanda nodded in understanding. "I know, Nat, trust me. But she's just overwhelmed right now. We'll help her through this."
Together, they watched over Y/N, knowing that this battle would be long and challenging, but with their support, Y/N wouldn't have to face it alone.
...
As Y/N slowly stirred awake, she found herself in Wanda's room, cradled safely in Wanda's arms. Her eyes drifted to the chair next to the bed, where Natasha slept, her face etched with worry even in slumber. Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions—gratitude, guilt, and a deep longing for things to be better.
When Y/N shifted slightly, Natasha stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she heard the movement. Their eyes met briefly, but Y/N quickly averted her gaze, nuzzling her face against Wanda's neck. Wanda, still asleep, tightened her hold on Y/N in response.
Sensing Y/N's discomfort, Natasha gently climbed to her feet and approached her. She whispered softly, "Come with me, Y/N."
Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded, carefully slipping out of bed so as not to disturb Wanda. She held onto Natasha for support, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her.
Natasha frowned with concern as she helped Y/N out of the room and into her own. Once Y/N was seated on the bed, Natasha squatted in front of her, their eyes locking. She spoke with sincerity, "I'm sorry I had an outburst earlier. I'm just worried. I never meant to make you think I'm angry at you. I'm not. I'm just frustrated because I don't know how to help."
Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she admitted, "Maybe I'm just broken beyond repair."
Natasha shook her head, cupping Y/N's cheeks gently. "Everything can be fixed, but to fix something that is broken, you have to want to fix it."
Y/N nodded slowly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "I guess you could be with me for every meal and just keep me occupied until the time passes where I won't throw up."
Natasha's voice was filled with reassurance as she replied, "Whatever you need, baby girl."
A small, grateful smile crossed Y/N's lips as she said, "Thank you, and I'm sorry for pushing you away when you only tried to help."
Natasha leaned in and tenderly pressed her lips against Y/N's, conveying forgiveness and understanding. "It's okay. You weren't in the right headspace. I understand."
Their love, though tested by the trials of Y/N's struggle, remained strong, and together, they would face the challenges ahead, one step at a time.
In the days and weeks that followed, Natasha stood by Y/N's side as she worked to regain control over her life and overcome her eating disorder. It was a journey filled with ups and downs, but they faced each challenge together, their love and determination serving as a beacon of hope.
Y/N attended therapy sessions to address the underlying issues that had contributed to her struggle. Natasha never missed an appointment, always there to offer support, encouragement, and a comforting presence.
Natasha made good on her promise to be there for every meal. They laughed, they talked, and they savored the simple pleasure of sharing a meal together. It was during these moments that Y/N began to rediscover the joy in eating, slowly mending the broken relationship with food that had haunted her for so long.
As the days turned into weeks, Y/N's strength and confidence grew. With Natasha's unwavering support, she found the courage to confide in her fellow Avengers about her battle with the eating disorder. To her surprise, they offered their support and understanding, dispelling her fear of judgment.
The love and compassion of those around her, coupled with her own determination, allowed Y/N to slowly rebuild her life. She realized that her worth wasn't determined by her appearance, but by the love and kindness she shared with others.
Though the journey was far from over, Y/N was no longer facing it alone. She had Natasha by her side, as well as the support of her friends and fellow Avengers. They were a team in every sense of the word, fighting battles together and emerging stronger as a result.
And so, their love story continued, marked not only by the challenges they had faced but also by the resilience and strength that had carried them through. Together, they embraced each day, cherishing the precious moments they shared and looking forward to a brighter future, filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities.
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Hey, I saw your post and just realised you're new here🖤.
I saw that you take requests so I was wondering if you would mind to write some headcanons about the fellowship members and how they would react to a female fighter from our world. (Maybe refuses to wear dresses and is very emancipated) Hope that's understandable & thank you 🖤
Re.: Thank you for your request! Never thought I'd actually get an answer xD. I tried my best and hopefully its what U wanted.
Headcanon Request - Lord of the Rings
incl.: independent female fighter, fellowship
(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)
Aragorn:
Respectful: Aragorn recognizes her capabilities and respects her as a fighter, acknowledging her contributions.
Gravitas: He conveys his seriousness through his tone and demeanor, showing her that he considers her an important member of the group.
Empowerment: Aragorn empowers her by entrusting her with important tasks and responsibilities, boosting her confidence.
Guidance: He provides guidance by sharing his extensive knowledge of the world and offering advice on surviving in challenging situations. He's secretly protective (just as he'd be with Arwen)
Comradeship: Aragorn actively involves her in decision-making and treats her as an equal, fostering a sense of unity and camaraderie.
"Your strength and determination are truly remarkable, my friend. In this fellowship, we stand together as equals, comrades bound by a common purpose, and I hold your skills and character in the highest respect."
Legolas:
Curiosity: Legolas' curiosity leads him to engage her in conversations about her world, learning from her experiences and perspectives. (based on reciprocity)
Admiration: He frequently compliments her combat skills and courage, demonstrating his deep respect for her abilities, especially since she's a human
Grace: Legolas appreciates her fluid movements and agility in battle, often complimenting her grace under pressure. (however he always keeps an eye on her, although he knows it's not neccesary
Friendship: Through small gestures like sharing stories (and defending her in battle - if ever needed), he builds a strong and trusting friendship, sometimes showing her how she can do better
Teamwork: Legolas actively collaborates with her during fights, highlighting her importance in their team dynamics.
(same "who can kill more?" competition as with Gimli)
"Your grace in battle is as awe-inspiring as the dance of the leaves in the forest, my friend."
Gimli:
Skepticism: Gimli's skepticism is rooted in his initial doubts about whether she can keep up with the group, which he gradually overcomes. (get's actually impressed by her)
Curiosity: His curiosity about her world leads to lengthy discussions, and they bond over shared interests and differences. (He'd often talk about his folk, and would rave about dwarves)
Loyalty: As she proves herself, Gimli becomes fiercely loyal, actively supporting her decisions. If a man ever appears who doubts her or doesn't take her seriously, he is immediately at her side
Surprising Friendship: Over time, his skepticism turns into a deep and surprising friendship, marked by trust and camaraderie.
Mutual Respect: They both earn each other's respect through their actions, setting aside prejudices and working together effectively.
"Aye, lass, ye've a fire in yer heart that matches the forges of Erebor. I doubted at first, but now I see - ye're a true warrior, fierce and capable, and I'm honored to fight beside ye."
Gandalf:
Wise Mentor: Gandalf recognizes her potential and takes her under his wing, teaching her about the world they traverse and imparting his wisdom.
Guidance: He guides her in decision-making, fostering her growth and helping her adapt to the challenges they face. (However he keeps an watchful eye on her, unsure about her intentions)
Empowerment: Gandalf instills confidence in her abilities, believing that she can contribute significantly to their quest. (Thinking that she might have another point of view/ sees things and details that the others don't notice or think are seemingly unimportant)
Trust: He trusts her judgment, showing it by relying on her insights and respecting her choices.
Strategic Ally: Together, they strategize and plan, viewing each other as indispensable allies in the pursuit of their goals.
"In you, my dear, I see a spark of inner fire, a potential yet untapped. Embrace your strength and let it blaze like a beacon in our dark journey, for you have the power to change the course of this quest."
Boromir:
Initial Skepticism: Boromir is initially skeptical of her abilities and her commitment to their quest, as he worries about her impact on the Fellowship's safety. (Believing they'd have to protect her)
Gradual Trust: Over time, her actions and determination gradually earn Boromir's trust and respect, and he slowly starts to see her as a valuable member of the group.
Protectiveness: Boromir develops a protective attitude towards her, ensuring her safety during dangerous situations (offering to train with her to improve her combat skills, however shes the one to beat him in a battle)
Mutual Respect: As they share the trials of their journey, Boromir and her come to respect each other's strengths, skills, and dedication to their common cause. He'd open up to her (when alone) and talk about Gondor and his fears
"Your strength is undeniable, but in this perilous journey, remember to heed wisdom as well, my friend."
Frodo:
Protective: Frodo feels responsible for her safety and wishes he could protect her in dangerous situations, although it is absolutely not neccesary. He might feel guilty to, however she is quick to sense that and makes sure to tell him, that he should not worry about her
Trust: He trusts her unconditionally, evident in his reliance on her during crucial moments and his openness about his concerns and fears. (He only trusts Gandalf and Sam more, however Aragorn might share the same level of trust with her)
Friendship: Their deepening friendship is built on shared experiences, mutual trust, and unwavering support for each other.
Empathy: Frodo's understanding of her struggles (as a woman) fosters a strong sense of empathy, and they confide in each other about their personal challenges. (him as a hobbit/ her as a woman)
Courage: Both exhibit courage in their own ways, inspiring each other to persevere and face adversity head-on.
"Your courage reminds me that even in the darkest of times, the light of friendship and determination can guide us through."
Sam:
Respectful: Sam respects her independence and appreciates her combat skills, addressing her with deference and showing admiration for her capabilities.
Trusting: He trusts her judgment and decisions, often turning to her for guidance in challenging situations.
Friendship: Their friendship flourishes as they share personal stories, trust each other implicitly, and develop a profound bond during their journey. (it's also a bit like a mentor - protégé relationship)
Loyalty: Sam's loyalty to her is unwavering, always putting her safety and well-being above all else. (He'd instantly worry if she would not eat something and insist, even if it was just a bite)
Kindred Spirits: They connect on a deep level, understanding each other's motivations and providing emotional support when needed.
"Ye've got a heart as brave as Frodo's, and I've seen it in action more times than I can count."
Merry:
Curious: Merry's curiosity about her world leads to inquisitive conversations where they exchange stories and knowledge.
Supportive: He is supportive of her choices and actions, often backing her up in debates and ensuring she feels included.
Friendship: Their camaraderie transforms into a genuine friendship marked by laughter
Encouragement: Merry frequently offers words of encouragement and praise, boosting her confidence and morale unknowingly
Wit: Their friendship is sprinkled with witty exchanges and playful banter, creating a lighthearted atmosphere (that she actually treasures)
"Blimey! You've got a spirit as fiery as a dragon's breath, lass! I reckon you'll give even the bravest of us a run for their money on this quest!"
Pippin:
Playfulness: Pippin's playful nature adds a touch of levity to their journey, lightening the mood when things get tough.
Friendship: Their friendship deepens as they share adventures and form lasting memories together. (He'd occasionaly offer her his pipe, but she'd politely decline)
Loyalty: Pippin's loyalty is unwavering, standing by her side through thick and thin. (She's often the one to watch out for him and safe him from dangerous situations)
Admiration: He admires her determination and independence, often expressing admiration for her spirit.
Growth: Their experiences together lead to personal growth, making them more resilient and capable adventurers. Pippin learns a lot from her, might get a bit more serious
"Y'know, I've never met anyone quite like you, lass. Your spirit's as fierce as the fire of the Shire's finest pipeweed! And I reckon that's saying something, coming from a Took like me!"
#lord of the rings#lord of the rings imagine#lord of the rings headcanons#lotr#lotr headcanons#lotr imagine#lotr x reader#legolas#aragorn#gandalf#gimli#boromir#merry and pippin#frodo baggins#samwise gamgee#lotr oc#lotr x you#the hobbit#the hobbit headcanons#the hobbit imagine#the fellowship of the ring#merry brandybuck#pippin took#lotr fanart#lotr fanfic#lord of the rings fanfiction
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i’ll ruin us all my dear
Written for @dsmp-eras. March 9-12 marking L'Manburg for the event, and I chose to write about c!Tommy and c!Dream's duel but in the perspective of c!Wilbur
Watching as Tommy loses his second life because of his actions, Wilbur can't help but wonder if he's destined to ruin everything he cares for.
ao3 link
---
If there’s one thing Wilbur regrets never teaching Tommy, it was how to aim.
The younger boy was a good soldier, determined and fierce. Sometimes, as Wilbur watched Tommy train the other soldiers, he wondered if Techno would like him. If he would admire Tommy’s fire and skills, impressive for being self taught. Techno has always admired loyalty, and Tommy’s has always been unmatched.
But Tommy was young and impulsive. Reckless, Techno would scold if he was here. Techno always believed emotions were a weakness, they cloud judgment and can be the reason you die in battle. But Wilbur, still naive and cocky, always argued otherwise. He wanted to believe in the good of others, that conflict can be resolved not through violence, but through compassion—words .
And look where it got L’Manburg: betrayed, weakened, a failed ideal. Wilbur was an idiot to ever think he could be different from his family, that he could change the order of how life operated. He failed everyone, and everyone knows this now, except for Tommy.
Sweet, brave, idiotic Tommy. Tommy who challenged Dream to a duel, all because he can’t admit defeat, all because he wants to make Wilbur proud.
Now, Wilbur watches as red and green walk away from each other with every count that comes out of his mouth. He hopes Tommy wins, for L’Manburg—one last “fuck you” to Dream—but also because if he dies, Wilbur won’t be able to live past the guilt. All two lives taken because of Wilbur, because he can’t be a good leader. He created L’Manburg to protect everyone, and it backfired tremendously.
But Wilbur knows Tommy, knows his strengths and weaknesses. He knows Tommy has never learned how to use a bow, at least not properly. In terms of combat, archery has always been Tommy’s weakest technique. It doesn’t help that Dream has been known for cheating, and Wilbur wasn’t sure who to watch. Dream or Tommy, his eyes kept flickering between the two; the former for any suspicious movement, the latter in fear of the worst happening. Dream was taunting Tommy, and Wilbur felt his anxiety spike as Tommy’s temper rose. He was becoming too emotional, not attentive— he’s not going to be ready.
—
Wilbur sees the moment Tommy realizes his arrow is going to miss its target. Dream shot his early, but not that it mattered because Tommy has always been quick on his feet and was already in the process of jumping in the water, the arrow ripping a piece of blue fabric. But that didn’t matter, because Tommy missed his shot, and just put himself at a disadvantage.
Tommy lost, Wilbur knows this the moment his body hits the water. He blinks, and Dream is drawing his bow again, another blink, and the water is transforming into red. Wilbur screams, Dream’s laughter muffled as he doesn’t hesitate to jump in the water. He reaches blindly until he snags onto heavy material, and struggles to kick as Tommy continues to bleed out into the water that once provided the younger boy comfort, onto the same bridge he and Tubbo were once playing on earlier that day.
It’s tainted now, is Wilbur’s only thought as he’s powerless to save Tommy. He’s numb as Tommy’s chest stops moving, blood marring his own clothing and hands. Someone has to drag him away, even after Tommy’s body has already respawned.
This is Wilbur’s fault. If only he was better; a better leader, a better fighter, a better strategist. He’s tainted, everything he touches is bound to come to ruins, and he was an idiot to think L’Manburg would be different.
#dsmperas#dream smp#dsmp#c!crimeboys#crimeboys#crime boys#c!wilbur#dsmp wilbur#dsmp fic#dsmp fanfic#dsmp fanfiction#dsmp writing#cryingtulips.writes
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hi i hope you’re doing well!! i was wondering if you would write hcs of the demon brothers with their s/o who’s apart of a popular idol group in the human world? 🤭 thank you ♡
I’m doing so amazing thank you for asking! I hope you're having a wonderful day today! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡
Oh my goodness, an idol group sounds so cool!! I got you, babe!
It also gave me another idea to write about how the brothers would react to MC on TV.
I can just imagine their proud faces.... ♪～(￣、￣ )
Artwork credit: @mys_s3
Scenario: The brothers reactions to MC getting stopped by paparazzi
Lucifer's initial reaction is a mix of concern and annoyance as he sees the overwhelming swarm of paparazzi surrounding you. He swiftly steps forward, his authoritative presence commanding attention. With a stern expression, he shields you from the cameras, positioning himself as a barrier between you and the intruding paparazzi.
"Back off. Can't you see she needs some space?" Lucifer's voice cuts through the chaos, his tone firm and authoritative. He ensures your safety, using his commanding presence to create a path for you to escape from the paparazzi's prying eyes. He worries about your well-being and despises the invasion of your privacy.
Mammon's protective instincts kick in the moment he sees the paparazzi swarming around you. He rushes to your side, his brows furrowed with concern. Though he may not be able to shield you from the cameras like Lucifer, he's determined to offer his support in any way he can.
"Oi, you vultures! Back off and give her some space!" Mammon's voice resonates with authority, despite the anxiety bubbling within him. He takes your hand in his, holding it tightly, and guides you through the chaos with a mix of determination and loyalty. He may not be the most composed in such situations, but he's fiercely protective of you.
Leviathan freezes in shock as he sees the paparazzi closing in on you. His initial instinct is to retreat, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention. However, as he sees the distress on your face, he quickly gathers his courage and steps up to shield you from the prying cameras.
"Leave her alone! Can't you see she's had enough?" Leviathan's voice trembles with a mixture of anxiety and determination. He tries to create a protective barrier, blocking the paparazzi's view and giving you a chance to escape. Despite his insecurities, his love and concern for you outweigh his own discomfort.
Satan's composed demeanor remains intact as he assesses the situation. He swiftly analyzes the best course of action, recognizing the need to protect you from the intrusive paparazzi. With a calm yet assertive presence, he steps forward, commanding attention and respect.
"I suggest you all back off before you face the consequences," Satan's voice carries a sense of authority, and his piercing gaze sends a clear message. He creates a safe passage for you, ensuring your privacy and well-being.
Asmodeus thrives in the spotlight, but even he recognizes the limits when it comes to invading your personal space. When he sees the paparazzi closing in on you, his expression shifts from delight to concern. With a graceful yet commanding presence, he maneuvers through the crowd, making a glamorous distraction.
"Darlings, the real show is over there! Follow me for an exclusive interview!" Asmodeus' voice oozes charm and charisma as he leads the paparazzi away from you. He ensures your safety and privacy, all the while maintaining his glamorous persona. Underneath it all, he genuinely cares about your well-being and wants to shield you from unnecessary scrutiny.
Beelzebub's protective instincts kick in as he sees the paparazzi crowding around you. His expression hardens, and his eyes narrow with determination. With his towering presence and strength, he moves swiftly, creating a path for you to escape.
"Step aside, or you'll regret it," Beelzebub's voice rumbles with an underlying intensity as he uses his physical presence to intimidate the paparazzi. He wraps a protective arm around you, guiding you through the crowd with a sense of security and strength.
Belphegor's initial reaction to the paparazzi swarming around you is one of irritation and annoyance. However, as he sees the distress on your face, a protective instinct takes over. With a nonchalant yet effective approach, he swiftly steps forward, creating a diversion to allow you to escape.
"Oi, you pests! Get lost before I decide to take matters into my own hands," Belphegor's voice carries a lazy yet threatening tone. He creates a distraction, drawing the attention away from you and providing an opportunity for your escape.
～𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪
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A new thought that occurs to me: Visenya’s egg. Do you think it could have hatched for Luke if he hadn’t offered it to the Cannibal?
It actually would have done!
It’s important to note that Luke is really not a reliable narrator when he returns to Dragonstone. He’s struggling with grief, survivor’s guilt, and a pre-existing sense of inadequacy that gets dramatically worsened by what he sees as him getting Arrax killed. If he had been thinking more clearly, he might have made some different, healthier choices in that chapter, rather than offering up the last remaining tie to his little sister and the life he could have lived with it in sacrifice.
Had Luke chosen differently…
The egg would have eventually hatched for him into a little blue dragon. She’s a mischievous, sweet-natured creature, although Geradys remarks that her shape is quite akin to Queen Rhaenys’ lost Meraxes.
This is not terribly helpful in terms of firepower, but does provide a boost for the Blacks that Rhaenyra is clearly rightful queen, given the ease with which her sons hatch dragons.
Emboldened by this, Rhaenyra isn’t nearly as hesitant in sending her sons out into the field, with quite interesting implications for when pleas come later down the line for reinforcements against Green attacks. It also boosts Luke’s self-esteem (also, his massive, massive denial over Shipwrecker’s Bay) and helps convince him to accept Corlys’ offer to serve on the fleets as part of the war effort. However, the delay caused by the egg hatching means that Luke is still around when Arryk arrives, and because the Cannibal actually had no influence on Luke’s documented reaction when someone threatens his family…
Once onboard the ship, Luke is very aware of how dimly he’s regarded by many amongst Corlys’ men, particularly those who served alongside Ser Vaemond (though the Arryk situation does earn him some respect too). Desperate to prove himself, he throws himself into learning the ropes, helped by Alyn of Hull, whom Corlys mysteriously trusts above all others to guide his heir without undermining him. This helps forge a friendship that lasts throughout the rigours of the war, and also means Luke is very ready to vouch for Alyn and his brother in the highly unlikely event that they should ever have their loyalty doubted.
Surprisingly enough, Luke actually flourishes quite well in that environment (although his seasickness is lessened after his near-drowning, a lot of it is down to him powering through as IRL sailors like Admiral Nelson managed). His dragon becomes a familiar sight, looping through the skies above the Velaryon fleet or coiled around Luke’s shoulders as he and Alyn work upon the decks (despite her small size, her issuing billowing clouds of smoke whenever Luke is vexed proves oddly intimidating!) Luke’s crew take a particular pride in “their” dragon, and joke she’ll one day be the greatest terror of the Green’s forces.
(“Princess Rhaenys had Baratheon blood, you know. Not surprising, really, the lad having hair like that, and there’s no denying his grandfather’s blood after he saw his men through that storm. Fine sailor, Ser Vaemond, but you’ve got to wonder, him being so quick to grasp at High Tide before Lord Velaryon even breathed his last-“)
Queen Alicent is driven to despair when her “my son is NOT a kinslayer, just FYI” campaign runs into the difficulty of Aemond being determined to remedy that - at least, that’s the only reason most can fathom for why he seems to keep haring off from his military campaign in the Riverlands whenever Prince Lucerys’ location becomes known.
As it so happens, the various battles the fleet engage in across the course of the Dance do provide ample opportunity for Luke to prove as fierce as any dragon, including the sinking of most of the Redwyne fleet (which also ends with the capture of some prominent Hightower hostages). During a clash with the Triarchy, an enemy captain also finds out the hard way that a baby dragon’s flame is still deadly at close range.
Luke starts having visions courtesy of his brush with the Drowned God. Unfortunately, these come in the form of fever dreams that aren’t particularly easy to interpret (Luke really should have got brought back by R’hllor instead) and that he’s not even always aware are of the future as such. He mainly tries to ignore them, but the rumour does leak out among the fleets that Luke has a touch of the strange about him - a rumour either fiercely denied or proudly boasted of by Luke’s men, whose doubts about their teenage commander seem to have gradually transmuted into a steadfast loyalty.
(“Mayhaps he used them dark arts to see off Prince Aemond, when he went alone to confront the traitor alone on the beach for a few hours. They say the prince looked awfully shocked when he landed back in Harrenhal empty-handed, and he even demanded a septon cleanse him, for his soul was gripped by a strange madness that seeing his nephew face to face had only worsened-“)
There’s a brief encounter with Dalton Greyjoy. The rumours that he suggested that Prince Lucerys could easily be the prettiest of his salt wives are probably untrue, as are the whispers that Prince Aemond’s rage when he heard them were what prompted Vhagar to torch half of the Greyjoy fleet. It’s undeniable at least that Lord Greyjoy sports both a small burn and a newfound respect for Targaryen authority afterwards.
None of the above changes Corlys’ feelings as a grandfather, naturally. Truly he loves them all equally, from Lucerys, his precious heir, pride of the Driftmark fleet and future Lord of Tides…to, you know, the rest of them.
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Forgive me but I’m rather new to the Star Wars world and I’m just starting to really fall in love with it, especially the prequels era. I am almost finished reading the novelization of ROTS and I am weak over it.
First of all, it’s beautifully written. 12/10
Secondly, oh. my. gosh. The team, the team!! Kenobi & Skywalker, the Jedi council’s most powerful duo: more than friends, more than brothers. Best friends on and off the battlefield, two halves of the same whole. One is passion & fury while the other is wisdom & solid as stone. They complement each other so well that it makes the betrayal in the end that much worse. It’s absolutely earth shatteringly heartbreaking. Their friendship in the book is so well described and much more fleshed out than in the movie. Not to even mention TCW (which I love so much) and all that we saw between them and what they went through. Obi-Wan & Anakin. Kenobi & Skywalker. Chefs kiss, I love them both.
Thirdly, Anakin & Padmé, the most beautifully heartbreaking and tragic love story that ever was. Anakin & Padmé are e v e r y t h i n g. Their love is so abiding and true, so full of hope and determination against all of the odds stacked against them. Anakin’s fierce loyalty and obsession to protect her from anything is what dream men are made of. He adores her so much to his own detriment and she adores him to hers. It’s so sad, so beautiful, and so unfinished. They never get their happy ending, or at least not in the living world. I hope we get to see Anakin & Padmé reunited in the force somehow, someway, someday.
Finally, PALPATINE, THAT MFER. Isolating Anakin, making him doubt those he holds most dear in the name of saving them. Making him think Padmé is betraying him with Obi-Wan by her side and vice versa. Palpatine making Anakin believe that the council doesn’t trust him more than they most likely do. (Don’t worry, I have my qualms with the Jedi Council, too. I will never forgive them for doing Ahsoka so dirty.) Palpatine getting exactly what he wants in the end and ruining everything good about the galaxy, about Anakin, about Padmé, and about Obi-Wan. Absolutely despicable, i hate him so much.
This novel is pulling at my heart strings y’all and I don’t think I’ll ever recover.
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