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alien-magnolia · 15 days

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I Need Someone Older

Fic description: Dean finds you on a hunt and takes you along to get you safely out of danger, fun ensues :) as the two of you feel an inevitable pull of attraction towards each other.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tw: AGE GAP! Hyper-feminine reader in early 20’s, Dean in late 40’s, daddy issues <3, dom-coded dean, sub-coded reader, bj, breeding kink!, extremely subby-coded reader, helplessness, praise!!!

Word count: 3.1k

Don’t like, don’t read!!

May 5, 2007

7:40 pm

Your white knee high socks were getting a little dusty from the dirt on the woodsy soil. You came out here to write your poetry, desiring a place for peaceful solitude, and perhaps some creative inspiration. You dusted off your skirt as you sat down on the moist bed of grass. The waning moon was a bit yellow tonight, yet you thought nothing off it. You began to write a few words in your floral notebook, with some neat handwriting and a gel pen.

All of a sudden, you hear a wail in the distance. The wind is cold. A few leaves rustle out a few feet away from you, causing you to stare into the dark pathway on your left, in which many trees loitered. You felt as if you were being watched. You continue with your writing, until again you hear a rustle, this time, a bit closer than before. A chill goes down your spine, and you slowly turn to see a pair of yellow eyes, a figure with long, sharp, claws, and a tall, curved, spiny, skinny, body, with a tail. It snarls, coming closer to you. You drop your notebook, and crawl backwards, the dirt making indents on your palms. You hear a few male voices, and see boots running to attack the creature.

You see a flame, the creature is light ablaze, and you pass out from fear. The last thing you remember is strong arms lifting you up, the smell of beer and cherry pie clouds your nostrils.

You wake up in the wood again, this time, the brighr and warm morning light shines down on your skin, littered with cuts and bruises. You seemed to have lost your favorite lipgloss in the process.

“Where am I? My head…,” you whine, seeing a handsome man next to you, bandaging your cuts and cleaning them. That cheered you up a bit. You wince as his calloused hands rub alcohol on your wound, and you meet his eyes. He had green eyes, dark hair, wore a flannel and jeans and had the most amazing body <3 he looked just, so big, compared to you!

You ask him his name and what happened. “The name’s Dean, sweetheart. My brother and I were in these woods looking for a wendigo. We sure as hell did find one.” You nod, still reeling from the attack last night. “Did that… person, thing, do that to me?,” you ask, eyes wide, a bit nervous. “It’s no person, honey,” he chuckles darkly. “Hate to break it to you, but monsters are real. The whole gang. Vampires, werewolves, spirits, demons, all other things that go bump in the night. All are real.” You sit in shock as he continues to fix your wounds. You notice how good his calloused (gunpowder covered) fingers feel on your calves. You wince as he brushes over a wound, jerking your leg back.

“Too rough?,” he asks, a large hand resting on your thigh. You nod. “S’alright. I’ll be more gentle, yeah?,” he asks, and you nod, feeling satisfied as the older man returns your smile.

“Hey. Might’ve caught trail of another wendigo up ahead. We should get going,” another man dressed in similar fashion walks up ahead, talking to Dean, taking a glance at you. “What's the hold up, Dean?,” he asks.

“Shut it, Sammy. Can’t you see I’m doing something here? Found her at the site where the thing was. Had to fix her up.” Sam nods, as Dean tells him your name. The two then agree to further go hunt for the second wendigo. “What about her? We’re deep in the woods now, sure as hell she ain’t going to go back on her own, Sammy.” “Fine. Take her with you, as long as she doesn’t cause a problem.”

So it was. You were now going to hunt for the wendigo with the Winchester brothers. The dirt and thick jagged branches sometimes were too much for your legs to handle, so you held onto Dean for some of the walk. He didnt seem to mind, and only smirked as you accidentally leaned too much into him, your soft chest grazing his wide and big arms.

“Stay here, stay put. Don’t go anywhere,” Dean commands you, and you do as said, wait as the boys go into the dark cave. An hour later — there was fire, shrieking, and the boys come out unscathed. The last wendigo has been killed, and the three of you make your way back to “baby,” which you later learned was Dean’s nickname for his ‘67 Impala.

Dean drove with Sam in the front, you in the back seat. You dozed in and out of consciousness as the engine lulled you toward the heavy tug of sleep, you overheard the two men speaking about you.

“Well, Dean she has no ID on her so it’s better off that we take her to the local sheriff’s station. We know Jody, she might be able to help,” Sam inquired. “Yeah, well Sammy, you know what, Jody’s probably just going to tell her to go back to the woods or some shit. Maybe she’s far from home. Maybe she was hiding. Who the hell knows? Bet she’d tell us first before talking to law enforcement,” Dean countered.

“Why is it always you and women, Dean? She’s so young too. Maybe a little too young for you?”

“Shut it, Sammy. Respect her. She probably has her reasons. She’s real pretty and I’ll get what I want, eventually,” Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

You drifted back into sleep but squeezed your thighs together at the thought of the older man using you and getting what “he wants.”

You were more than happy to give it to him.

You were in a dingy 1970’s era hotel room, with dark brown shag carpet, rickety beds with neon orange polyester sheets, and a single lamp in the corner, flickering on occasion. No tv, but a rotary phone and radio. Sam was on a chunky laptop that whined and whistled due to all the power his research into Wendigos was taking up. You believed he was on a library forum of some sort. You sat on the bed, dwindling with the phone cord. The low buzz of the fan was heard from the corner.

Dean comes up to you. “Heya, kid. I’m gonna go get some grub. Wanna come with?,” he asks, offering you a hand to help you up from the bed. You nod, smiling, and taking his hand. Dean opted to go to a local bar to get some takeout. He ordered a large burger, large pilsner beer, and a cherry pie. You got some chicken and French fries, sharing some pie with him. You tell him that you were in the woods to write poetry, you got lost and then time seemed to go. Your cell was dead too. He told you about his ‘job’ with his brother Sam, choosing to follow his dad John Winchester’s legacy of hunting down things that go bump in the night. He made you laugh, asking you about your writing, your college education, a life that someone like him never had.

“We’re so different, you and I, know that? Seriously. I mean, college? In my dreams. Wondering what that’s like,” he said to you, while taking a sip of his beer.

“What can I say. I want a decent life for myself, sometimes. I have a pull towards the arts. Literature, actually. Sometimes though, I just want to be on my own. Without the pressures of society, on the road, like you two. Bet you don’t have any deadlines to meet,” you jokingly admit to Dean.

He chuckles, but then nods, a more serious expression growing on his face now, taking another sip of his beer. “Life sucks, kid. Sucks for me and Sammy, we’re out on the road, might die the next day. Never know what the fuck’s chasing after us,” he has a bit of a solemn expression, taking another sip of his beer.

You nodded, understanding him, seeing through the “tough guy” facade that he’s put up. He was scared. He needed someone to comfort him, to support him. His brother was his partner, yet that wasn’t the partner he was looking for.

You reach over to put your dainty hand on his large one. “Thanks for dinner, really. We should save some for Sam, though, I think,” you giggle, watching a grown man blush over your gentle touch. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Anytime…,” he trails off, his blush seemed to get stronger and he was avoiding eye contact a bit.

“You okay?,” you ask, meeting his eyes, feeling something start to heat up between the two of you, the air suddenly was heavy. “You’re just, well, pretty, kid. Seriously. Real fuckin’ nice, sweets,” he chuckles, his large fingers coming to intertwine with yours. You almost faint under the pressure of his hand on yours, your eyes drift to his muscular and wide frame, his tattered Jean jacket, his necklace on a black piece of string, his chiseled jawline. As funny as he was, you knew that you had an undeniable attraction towards him.

He saved you from the wendigo, but you let him. You let him take you back to the motel with Sam. You let him have you stay with them. Now. You’d let him have your body. All of it.

“Maybe we can go into those woods again? I can show you some poems?,” you reel, watching the older man’s eyes light up with a burning flame. “Sure, thing, kid. I’ll take you up there in ‘baby.’

With a few stares and leers from the other inhabitants of the shady bar, Dean leads you by the waist out the door, and into his impala, opening the door for you, of course.

“Ladies first,” he bows down a bit as he holds the shabby car door open for you. You take his helping hand and slide into the shotgun (front) seat. He quickly runs over to the driver’s side, a toothpick in his mouth as he climbs in, adjusting the jagged rearview mirror. You struggled to buckle up in the old model of a car, so Dean helped out, buckling it for you. You liked the many things he seemed to do for you. His care. His help.

He pulls out of the diner driveway, one of his ringed hands on the wheel, another tracing gentle patterns all over your thigh. You adjust your socks as his patterns make you heat up — inside and out. “I know a place. You down? If not I’m fine with it, sweet thing. No pressure, s’all,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if speaking to a child. You blush. “It’s alright, Dean. I’ll show you my poems. I’ll show you something else too, I think you’ll like it,” you cover your smile as you let out a few small giggles. He smirks back at you.

“Oh I’ll like it, alright. God damn,” he stifles, his strong, calloused fingers gripping a bit harder on your soft thigh. The rest of the drive was tense, just how you liked it. Soft rock — ‘Blue Oyster Cult’s’ “Don’t Fear The Reaper” played in the background, and it would usually lull you to sleep. Not tonight. Your heart raced, stealing glances at the man next to you. The man about to take your virginity, what concept you or society made of it. You hoped he didn’t mind.

The impala pulled into a motel parking lot: the same one where you left from. “Dean. Your brother..won’t he..?, you ask, and he quickly interrupts. “Well just be in a different room, is all. Sammy wouldn’t care anyway, as much as I’d like him to. He takes your hand again, leading you to Room 22, on the second floor. Your fingers trace the grimy balcony railing as you head up there.

The door shuts. You smile at him, then look down at your feet. “Can I, um. Kiss you, Dean?,” you ask, shy and sweet, a delicious pie on the shelf, a cherry blossom that smells and tastes so sweet, intoxicating the older man closer and closer to you. “F’course. You’ve never done this before, have you?” You nod. “Let me take the lead, yeah, sweet thing. I’ll be gentle. Scout’s honor,” he smiles, holding up two fingers. You nod, wrapping your small arms around his broad chest. Your soft chest pressed against his, you feel the cool metal of his pentagram necklace press against your warm, beating heart.

His large arms trail down to squeeze your waist a bit, and then rub circles down below, your waist and hips. He gave them a tight squeeze, you gasped at his strength. His fingers continued ministrations on your waist, hips, thighs, and the two of your lips danced in a slow and sensual rhythm. You could taste the beer and cherry pie on him, and you ran your fingers through his coarse hair.

His thumb rubs your cheek a bit, and he picks you up in his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down under him. His face above you, his brown eyes in awe taking in your sweet skin, putting him in a trance. His calloused hands run down your arms, your belly, gentle, soft, and slow. He grabs your chin, pulling your face towards his, and meets you for a chaste kiss, slow, you felt the stubble on his cheek and smiled into his lips.

His hand runs through your hair, over your cheek, this thumb caressing your face a bit. You keep the kiss going, you feel him getting rougher, hungrier for you. Your hands touch his broad chest, trailing on the hem of his shirt, which you take off. His chest was bare, just with a tiny bit of hair, and a very prominent happy trail <3 of which you run your fingers through.

His hands lead your hips up against the wall, tracing patterns on your back. Your lips are hungry for each others, you push your chest into his. “Fuck, sweet thing. Gonna drive me up the wall here, Jesus,” his voice now an octave deeper, raspier, breathless. His cherry pink swollen lips meet yours again, you feel his aftershave on your face. Your thighs rub against his growing bulge, positioning your legs so his thickening tent on his jeans was pressed up snug, right into your growing wetness in between your legs.

“Dean…want it,” you moan out, your delicate, manicured fingers tracing the toughness of his stubble. “Want what, huh? Gotta ask nicely, don’t keep me guessing, honey,” he smirks, a condescending expression appearing on his handsome face.

“I-uh, your, uh, oh, fuck,” you breathlessly whimper out, as his rough, calloused fingers gently slide down between your legs, rubbing your soft, warm folds, through your pretty and pink lace.

“Let me see what you got down there, hmm?,” he smirks, knowing that he has you completely wrapped around his finger. You nod, his hand cups your cheek for another kiss. He slides off your skirt, your knee highs, your Lacey top. You work on his jeans, until he stops you, with a look — meaning that he can take care of it.

All clothes gone — your legs intertwine, he presses his leaking bulge into your folds, you could practically feel how you clenched around nothing!!

“Dean…,” you beg again. “What’s wrong, huh? What’re you beggin’ for, seeet thing. Gotta give me words,” he says, all the while his thick fingers continue to work you open — get you ready for him.

A soft smile is on his face as his fingers become ever so gentle, continuing a circular pattern, pausing to tightly cup and squeeze your pulsing mound.

“Want. Want your, ha — your cock, Dean. Please. Please!,” you squeal out, just as he cups and massages your mound once more. “Why didn’t you say so, at first, sweet thing? Here I was thinkin’ you only wanted my fingers,” he chuckles, smile full of adoration — seeing you in a close to ruined state. His fingers pull out with a squelch.

You whine at the loss, your cunt throbbing, pulsing, desperate to be filled!! He smiles, hands on your hips. “Bend over f’me, baby.” You do as said, his smile and yours widen as his two hands cup your ass, giving it a hard smack.

His hands trace up and down your back, your waist, until you feel his soft tip press at your entrance. You turn around to view what you’ve been waiting for. He’s big. Short, yet thick. Oh so thick. You weren’t sure if he’d fit. A large vein ran down his left side. Fuck — how you wanted that in your mouth.

His hand gently guides your face back down into the table which you were bent over. “Down, baby. You’ll get a chance later, yeah?,” he soothes you. You nod. You feel his throbbing tip at your mound, as he slides in — you feel the stretch, just for a bit, and then he starts to push in, you felt so full !!

“Fuck— ah, Dean, too much, too much,” you squeal out, as he slides in, and starts to move, thrust, slow, gentle at first, and then deep, fast, his thick balls slapping against your mound. You saw stars, felt pressure as he kept going, faster, rutting into you, his hairy chest pressing into your back. The man had put you in a mating press. You wouldn’t mind. With how it’s going with him — you’d take his seed. Anything for the man that saved you from the Wendigo.

Your eyes roll back into your head, his grip on your hips was like a vice. The two of you finish with screams. He groans. “Fuck, sweet thing. You take it like a champ, yeah?” You nod giddily, anything for his praise and approval. “How’s about we stay in this room tonight? I’ll getchu’ a beer.” You nod. “That’s my good girl. Stay put.” With that, your mound is even more wet, you’re left clenching, covered in his cum as he leaves to get you snacks.

He comes back, presses a nice kiss to your forehead, and makes the two of you some dinner. You wondered what this will lead to.

Author’s note: pls support your creators <3 if you love this fic pls comment or reblog! Greatly appreciated <3 xoxo - Liz

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤#supernatural smut #Dean Winchester smut #dean x reader #dean winchester hot #winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dom!dean winchester #hyperfeminine!reader

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whoishotteranimepolls · 2 months

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Fandom observation nicknames and funny tags: Part One Piece

Okay, one piece fandom it's your turn and I'm going to highlight your creativity. Again this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me. So expand post at your own risk. This one is unhinged

*updated as of May 4th with more tags and new characters

I have mentioned this before, but for some reason that is beyond me. One Piece fandom you guys refer to your characters as daddy and mommy (And it's in a kinky way) way more than any fandom. I think I should just start with the list of characters that have been labeled as such before I go into the creative names for individual characters. Because trust me who makes the list and who doesn't is actually funny.

One piece Daddy's: Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy, Sir Crocodile, Benn Beckman, Killer, Sanji, Rayleigh, Roger, Doflamingo, Rosinante/Corazon, Katakuri, Ivankov, Arlong, Yamato, Marco, Izou, Smoker, Garp, Sengoku, Zeff, Kuzan/Aokiji, Kizaru, Fujitora, Akainu, Blackbeard

When it comes to the One piece Mommy's: Nico Robin, Boa Hancock, Charlotte Smoothie, Charlotte Galette, Charlotte Amande, Vice admiral doll, Catarina Devon, Ivankov & Crocodile

Now due to popular demand the new category the One Piece Babygirls: Ace, Buggy, Sanji, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro, Ussop, Marco, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Kid, Law, Bepo, Killer, Mihawk, Shanks, Perona, Yamato, Kuzan/Aokiji, Kizaru, Fujitora, Rosinante/Corazon, Katakuri, Smoker, Robin, Nami, Vivi, Jinbe, Hatchan, Roger, Zeff

Now when it comes to individual characters there have been some interesting standouts but I'm just going to do some highlights because you guys have so many characters

Ace: "Depressed sunshine orphan boy with daddy issues", "ace has that grungy line cook riz you know he lays legendary pipe", " he got goofy older brother swag", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", "Ace my greasy fire narcoleptic king", "The narcoleptic babygirl", the greasy crusty desert rat. "He would be worth the burn risk", "my favorite fire donut", "something about greasy alabasta ace hits so different", "with his riz he's probably a walking STD risk but it would be worth it. Just look at him probably also probably got a couple bastard kids running around the grand line", it's ok he's still greasy in my heart worlds most feral baby boy he looks like he eats dirt I could fix him (force him to bathe regularly)

Arlong: "Y'all are too afraid to recognize the truth too afraid of his drip, his swagger, his saw nose, to admit that he's hot also live action arlong?!?!the only sexy fishmen," "arlong looks like a toxic florida frat bro," "I legitimately think there's something wrong with me sometimes due to how bad I want arlong the rancid personality enhances the appeal", "yall are p****" arlong is sexy put some respect on his name look at those lips the laugh the hair!"

Akainu: "The world's next top authoritarian," magma Daddy, "He makes donuts and I still love him"

Bartolomeo: "the man hasn't showered in probably a week he's obsessed with the strawhats he'll pee anywhere and he's an absolute dweeb he's like a stray mutt that followed me home look at his fit it's AWFUL AND FABULOUS he's gross and dumb and if something bad happens to this silly barrier- creating puppy i'll LOSE IT"

Belo Betty: "True story: Belo Betty made me, an Aroace woman have a sexuality crisis."

Ben Beckman: Dilf, "retirement blorbo", "Benn Beckman is a religious experience", "to me? beckman is the character with the most sex appeal ever. raw sex appeal. I would [redacted] if I met this man. just sayin", "He can ruin my life any day of the week", "Also lest we forget pre TS Beck a++ quality right there I just want someone smart who will also hit a guy with a gun is that so much to ask for", "This p**** wants what she wants and its always going to be Benn “back breaker" Beckman", husband material, "men are like wine in order to get a good vintage you want the one that's aged", he had that sexy blind and reckless loyalty about him", "Beckman is a fine aged vintage of wine as men should be", "DEAR GOD the things I WOULD DO to that man LIKE [redacted] and [redacted] because [redacted] and [redacted]", "idk how to explain it but he's so wife", "benn beckman? more like benn breastman ok sorry yeah anyways. said it before and ill say it again beckman exudes raw sex appeal like jesus christ. why would you not want to fuck this man ive had lesbian friends who said he would be an exception to them which is so real his tits are big he loves his captain he STUBBED HIS CIGARETTE IN A MAN'S EYE UNDER THE GUISE OF DEFENDING HIS CAPTAIN so fucking sexy mwah mwah beckman my wife you are so hot SO HOT. in conclusion benn breastman you will forever be a top sexyguy in my head oh also forgot to add. he canonically gets bitches which is so real. he could get me any day", "Oh dear I just realised I have a thing for older men with grey hair and have substance abuse issues I choose to believe lung cancer does not exist in opu", "

Buggy: Assigned clown at birth, walking disaster, "my pathetic sniveling wet clown", my Beloved, "he has blue hair and pronouns", Failboy, "the skrunkly clown", "my clown wife", "he has that fail boy cringe", "buggy has the stronger levels of foolishness and fumbling his way to success", "the cringefail clown extraordinaire buggy", "he is silly and pathetic like a bisexual divorced dad",

Catarina Devon: "my problematic lesbian sugar mommy”,

Cracker: "if Cracker just let his hair down he'd be unstoppable i fear", "get wrecked cracker", "I am so curious about the people voting for cracker let me study you please", "cracker getting murdered as expected", "you can't do my biscuit husband like that", "i find cracker really hot"

Crocodile: desert daddy, Babygirl, "He's like if tony soprano was trans", crocodaddy, crocomommy, Big titty mob boss, He's 8ft tall and I would let he ruin me,"Mr. Sandman", "the human sandcastle," "literally has sand in his britches", "son of a beach", "World's Most Expensive Sand Sculpture", "he's got 99 problems and his hook is one of them", "casino blorbo", "I would subject myself to sandburn any day for THE SIR FUCKING CROCODILE Anakin Skywalker don't go here because I WOULD love sand if it was like 8 feet tall and had a voice like that absolutely rabid he could stick his sand in so many places and I'd thank him crocodile is one of those guys i wanted to hate so bad and then went actually no i want this guy carnally Crocodile has some weird rizz goin on and i need to climb that sandcastle", "I'm so sorry but I need to eat crocodile's pussy", "With Sir Crocodile you can have Sex on the Beach. Literally. Plus he owns a casino so you could probably sip on the cocktail version too...while getting some cocktail.", "mafia vibes and style", "crocodile's got style. class. you will be wined and dined in the most exquisite way you can imagine", "He's got DADDY vibes", " One handsome mafia boss", "I love crocodile but also i wanna punch him and i feel like hes got the sandiest pussy/dick that shit will give me a rash", "my evilest baby boy", "Crocodile invented evil trans swag just saying", "im sorry az but crocodile was my dilf awakening", "in Crocodilf we trust",

Dragon: "the revolutionary scrungle dragon",

Doflamingo: "Dofy's got some wierd (potentially fun) energy but he would NOT treat you well he'd be awful", "The psychopathic pimp on a shoestring budget. Seriously dude, San Diego Zoo called and they want their flamingos back. That coat is so last season.", "fashion travesty", "Doflamingo dresses like an eye test and will probably steal your credit card by the end of the night not because he needs the money. because he finds it hilarious", "Mingo is just a spoiled frat fuckboy who's too full of himself to be interested in anyone/anything else", "a balding white man", "evil florida man my beloved they dont understand you", "Budget Pimp who robbed San Diego of their world famous Flamingo flock"

Eustass Kid: Pirate punk, "He's a sopping wet loser", "a man wearing eyeliner and nailpolish is by definition hotter", "my scrungy little fuck", he would also probably give me an STD and it would still be worth it

Franky: " Three words light up nipples"

Fujitora: "fujitora yes plz that like calm collected way he fights makes me KNOW hed take care of his partner real good", "have you seen how he slurps his noodles? I just know he could eat me out in ways I could never imagine"

Gol D. Roger: "the "Tom Selleck" of Pirates. He mustache'd the gold somewhere. You think these puns are bad wait until you hit my NSFW tags. Can't believe no one pointed those out yet, his name is a literal gold mine of innuendo. king of pirates? nah he's the king of rogering roger this roger that roger anyone he damn well pleases he has the D", "why does no one thirst after Gol like i do? youre all weak! cowards", "sorry but i am all about his dads mustache", " I can't be the only one that wants to ride that mustache"

Jinbe: "I wanna suck on the webbing between his fingers", does anyone else contemplate how soft Jinbe's tits are to lie on or is that just me?

Kaido: "beefcake beast of a man",

Katakuri: "I'm a monsterfucker at heart", "Katakuri is literally so good man he's a family man #he's badass he's got a great sense of honour you know I had to go for the mochi man", "donut king", "KATAKURI MY MOCHI MONSTER TEETH KING CHAMPION HUSBAND THAT I WOULD CLIMB LIKE A MOUNTAIN #I'M ALWAYS ON MY CLIMBING AGENDA WITH MY ONE PIECE KINGS!", "i just know this man would treat me right we love kata", "Kata definitely ticks that hot box"

King: "King is literally the most beautiful OP character you can't change my mind", "Gotta chose the melanin yknow", "king is so ajdhjdjdjchjd bark bark bark bark", "I saw King and decided he is my blorbo", "king of my [REDACTED]", " I know he's like 20 ft tall and I'm probably the size of his d*** but it would be worth it. I would gladly choose death by snu snu for one night with him"

Killer: "big tiddy murder boyfriend",

Marco: Bird daddy "Mr. Dr. Emotionally-Stable Scrungles", "surfer hippy electric blue glasses wing flapper", "DR. MMMMM", Fineapple

Luffy: "l am in the minority here I need luffy's gomu gomu no [REDACTED]"

Mihawk: The Vampire Pirate, Goth Dad, the sword father, Pirate Dracula, the big titty goth husband, "I think mihawk would treat you right. i want mihawk to treat me right", "I love his gay wine uncle energy", "I appreciate that he dresses Like That everywhere extra ass bitch", "hot vampire cowboy pirate", Morticia Addams, "Mihawk oozes 'step on me' energy",

Robin: "she has irresistible weird girl rizz", "big tiddy archaeologist gf"

Rosinante: "my insane clumsy tall dilf", "wife material", "he has cringefail dad swag", "rosi is everything to me actually. I would climb that tall clumsy king like a tree", "the klutzy mime", "he has that pathetic depressed clown vibe thats irresistible", "He's the epiome of strong but silent, he's the asshole with a heart of gold, he has everything", rosinante is hot tho and his clumsiness somehow enhances it", "I've said it before and I'll say it again I WOULD climb that clumsy king like a tall tree want to kiss him until his silly jester makeup is all over me too", "I am loyal to the guy who actively sets himself on fire",

Sabo: "bc he said killing woth lead pipes and then he just kept doing it its the crazy for me"

Sanji: fail wife, Cooking Daddy, "I NEED sanji to f*** me to tuesday and make me dinner before and breakfast after", "The man will feed you the best meal you've ever had and genuinely compliment something about you", "His fighting style is 'kick the problem until it goes away' and he chugs Love Women Juice", "he can cook and fight and he's damn fine while doing both"

Shanks: Margaritaville Himbo, "Dilflicious", "the deadbeat malewife wifi user", "I am a whole lesbian but if there were a butch girl version of these men I would let shanks ruin my life", "favorite guy in the local frat" He's probably a walking STD risk but he's hot and I'm a slut that has a thing for red heads, "the unwashed bitch", "LOOK AT THAT SCRUFF ON SHANKS the three scars on his face that smile", "my Scrungle drunk bastard", I would volunteer to be his next baby mama you know shanks got a few a dozen red haired children all over the grand line tell me I'm wrong"

Smoothie: "ah...smoothie....or as i call her... one piece tsunade Imaoo", "ultimately my desire to be crushed by Smoothie's thighs won out", "SMOOTHIE. THANK YOU mommy long legs... gauhggfghgh......i want her to juice me pleeeeaaaseeeeeeeeeee /silly",

Silvers Rayleigh: "Silver Fox Rayleigh", "he's old but he can get it", "Rayleigh has that 'your daughter calls me daddy too' energy", "he's a gilf who married a literal queen", "rayleigh has spent his entire life SERVING CUNT", "Raiyleigh has that gilf energy despite having no kids", I need him in so many different ways I cannot list", "he has my heart around his little finger", "Rayleigh makes me howl like a dog I swear", "I mean come on look at his HAIR his GLASSES that incredible STARE even his wrinkles are hot", "Rayleigh got the 50 year anniversary in the bag idk why you would go for anything else", "helloooo????? Rayleigh is the hottest old guy in one piece please", "I would let rayleigh ruin me and I would thank him", "Rayleigh to me is more like a really smooth mead", "genuinely may be the hottest man of onep just like. objectively", "rayleigh you will always be famous for being the most fuckable old man ever. there may be dilfs galore out there but ur the only gilf in my heart", "that scene where Rayleigh gets out of the ocean shirtless After swimming to the island of women I actually said Daddy out loud",

Smoker: "Smokedaddy", "Smokestack. 'Ole Smokey. Smokin' Hot Smoker", "smokers allergy to keeping his Tits covered compels me", "i do love smoked sausage i'm sorry i'll see myself out", "smoker he's just so beefy like fuckkk and he's like almost 40 i just wanna be smokers lil housewife", "smoker is a beautiful lesbian to me", "smoked sausage I just *know* he's got more to work with than a cocktail weenie", "SMOKEYBEAR PAPA SMOKE MY KING i would smoke him like a chimney if you're pickin up what I'm putting down wink wink nudge nudge he really would kill my lungs but it'd be a fun time", "SMOKER PAPUCHO RICO I NEED HIM", "smoker is solid (despite being made of smoke)", "smoker. smo-yan. ultimate "guy who is allergic to wearing shirts" and honestly? he's so right for that. he needs to show off his tits! in a one piece man boob ranking he's coming number 2 (after crocodile) i said this in dms earlier today but it needs to be released to the world "fat d*ck fat tits fat ass he has it all" smoker is PACKINNNNN in every way he's genuinely so attractive, even just considering him physically and look at his sexy facial scar also (beck also has one. very good) and his slicked back short hair.....not to mention the things that are very endearing about him personality wise - he does masculinity like NOBODY ELSE. genuinely NO ONE does it like him like. he's gruff but he has a very strong personal moral code and he really *does* care..... the man's a tsundere and he's never been cruel to those undeserving like in his introduction - kids bumps into him, spills ice cream on his pants YOU KNOW WHAT SMOKER SAYS? YK WHAT HE SAYS? "my pants ate your ice cream." KILL ME NOWWWWWW HES SO FUCKING HOT IM EATING MY OWN HANDS and then he GIVES THE KID MONEY TO BUY MORE ICE CREAM. jesus christ smoker big d*ick big tits big heart i fucking love him good god", "something something vague moaning sounds I would call him smokey just to provoke him", "

Trafalgar Law: "DR. Slut", "He has them tattoos which makes me go fucking feral", "A stoner greasy boyfailure", "the edgy emo orphan boy with daddy issues", 'My tried stressed bitch", "law is hot because hes pathetic has tattoos and is the narrative's favorite punching", "i am DERANGED over a depressed formerly-suicidal surgeon",

Yamato: "I need my trans man big naturals...... I know nothing about one piece but yamato lives rent free in my brain and my heart at all times the only anime figure i have is of him and i don't even watch the fucking show", "he's new + he's trans + he's over 8 feet tall + he's a wolf god what more could you want?!", "he is filled to the brim with TRANSMASC SWAG", "it's transmasc dog boy swag for me he's my best boy", "Yamato's boobs call to me I need to motorboat yamato titties. whoa who said that", "yamato could crush me and i would thank him yes indeed", "I just found out Yamato is Literally a whole entire meter taller than me & that's all the convincing I need", "my canon transmasc king", "cant compete with is the fact that on top of beautiful yamato is just. fucking huge like i can not will not get over it every time i remember he's 8'7 in canon I'm like aaaAaaAaAAaAAAAaa kiss me on the mouth big boy", "as an aroace person. if yamato stepped on me id thank him. thank you for your time", "hes literally the whole reason i started watching/reading one piece

Zoro: "The President of the strawhat's local big titty committee", "The king of boobs", "Beautiful butch dyke wife", I would probably get an STD but it would be worth it, "his stupidity and gay attire make him very appealing", canonically the biggest tits in one piece, He got them big naturals, "Big honkabadonkaroo hoinkybadinkirs massive man tiddies Zoro", "Zoro oozes 'I won't let anyone hurt you' energy", "zoro is hot because of his big naturals

Zeff: "He will wine and dine me before leaving me lovingly bedridden the day after. And he actually takes care of his kid", "Zeff is honorable and can cook and clean and bathes and almost dies for a kid that's not his and then adopts him" He's got line cook energy. If you know you know

I definitely know I'm going to have to add to this since there's so many more characters and you all are definitely going to get more creative after seeing the list.

And a few observations. Why did Sanji make the daddy list and not Zoro? Characters that I thought would be short cliff notes turned into some of the longest sections And characters I thought would have some of the longest sections turned into some of the shortest ones. And I still think this was worse theyn JJK I just forget how unhinged this fandom can be because your unhinged craziness is dispersed amongst so many characters. And I haven't decided which fandom's next.

I now have my answer on why Sanji made the list and not Zoro. Overall the fandom is just thirsty so very thirsty. Hence the many updates to this list

Commentary added as of May 4th.

Characters that I never thought I would ever add to this post are on here and I am so confused. When I started this blog, I was warned that the JJK fandom was unhinged horny and thirsty AF. But in my opinion, the one piece fandom is much worse. Just look at this post for proof. One Piece you guys are definitely the thirstiest fandom by far I mean Catherine Devon has a section. You guys just hide it better than the JJK Fandom. Plus I do regret challenging a few of you to come up with tags as a joke because you definitely delivered

#poll analysis #fandom trends #fandom #fandom culture #not a poll #one piece #nicknames and funny tags #whoishotteranimepolls

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months

Note

Ruin requests??? Anything w/ ruined Roxy x reader please I need to clean her up and make her feel better my wife is so sad :(((

NAH FR I'm devastated for her </33

[RUIN SPOILERS AHEAD]

.......

You don't know how you did it.

You don't know how you managed to reach Cassie and Roxanne deep within the bowels of the Mega Pizzaplex and destroy...whatever mechanical abomination was lying there.

But none of that mattered right now, as there's only one important thing sitting in front of you at this very moment:

The heavily damaged wolf animatronic, currently in a deactivated state as she was recharging power.

You did your best to clean off whatever grease, charcoal, or dirt you can find on the remnants of her suit. However given her lack of any exterior shelling, you focused mainly on her endoskeleton.

A dozen rags and special cleaners later...she was already looking better than before.

You took extra care when cleaning her hair--the part of herself she valued the most aside from her eyes. The last thing you wanted was for her to go into a frenzy in your own garage.

At first you were afraid for Cassie's safety, thinking Roxy was going to attack her like Monty, Chica, and some older Freddy model. But instead the young girl actually led you to her, begging you to save her as she was too scared to lose her "only friend".

That was surprising to hear, though you trusted her and took them both hope, escaping through a tunnel leading to the outside world.

You drove Cassie to the hospital, where she would be staying for a few nights, while you went back home to repair Roxy to the best of your abilities.

Being a former technician had its perks, but even so...you couldn't 100% restore her to her original state. You had no idea how she was even capable of functioning at all, even apparently fighting an animatronic that mimicked Cassie's friend.

Still, you had to try.

For both of their sakes.

Once Roxy was charged fully, you smiled and got up, going to your monitor to complete the process and reactivate her.

--WARNING: ANIMATRONIC SAFETY PROTCOLS REMAIN CRITICALLY DAMAGED. CONTINUE? [Yes/No]--

You huffed in annoyance, going ahead and selecting "yes". There was nothing you could do about those right now. But you hoped she would recognize you before she made any sudden movements.

As soon as you made your choice, the wolf jerked to life, already fighting against the restraints of her chair as she growled and shouted.

"Where am I?! Cassie?! CASSIE?!!" She cried out desperately. "Let me go-!!"

"Roxy! It's me." You spoke up, trying to calm her down as you cautiously approached. "Do you remember me?"

Closing her endo jaws, she fell silent for a moment, trying to recognize your voice. "[Y/n]? My...personal repair technician..? Where are we? Is Cassie okay?"

"You're at my house, far away from the Pizzaplex. Cassie's staying at the hospital for a few nights. She's safe." Relieved, you smiled when her gaze met yours, and you could see her relax in the chair. "I can't believe it...you were down there all this time. I thought you guys were goners. What happened..?"

"It's..all a blur." She muttered, tensing as she felt a cable being removed from the back of her head. "What are you..??"

"It's okay. I had to recharge you and run some diagnostics, so I'm taking the cables out. Keep talking to me, Roxy."

"Did Cassie book her party?"

"...come again?"

"Her birthday.." She looked up at you, ears twitching and rotating. "She didn't have the best time, I tried cheering her up...did you know she's my number one fan?"

"Yes." You nodded as you detached the final cable. Then you helped her stand up and regain her footing. "You've only told me about her a dozen times while I was repairing you."

"I did...? Huh...can we go back to the Pizzaplex when she recovers? We'll throw her the best birthday party ever!" Her tone sounded so hopeful, yet your silence made her frown. "[Y/n]?"

"I'm sorry, Roxy. But the whole mall's condemned. It's not safe anymore" You regrettably reminded her. "I don't know what the hell happened there in the time I was gone, but...it's in ruins. Even if it was somehow magically restored..I don't think Cassie would want to go back there."

Of course, you knew that's not what she wanted to hear, but it was the reality. And you could see her growing more and more distraught.

"..right, I..remember now..but that's it? No more parties or...o-or races to win..? No more sharing carrot cake? No one to tell me I'm beautiful..?" Her voice wavered, but you couldn't tell if it was due to the glitches or genuine emotion.

The robotic sniffle you heard confirmed the latter, and you stepped forward to take her hands into yours. "You're still beautiful, and..I promise when she gets out, we'll go buy all the carrot cake she wants. We'll throw her a party here. One she deserves." You could feel tears pricking your eyes, despite your attempts to smile.

Although you wish it didn't take a tragedy of this scale to change Roxy's personality, you were glad to see this softer side coming out. Her sassiness to other kids and staff members was always there--even towards you--but Cassie is the only one she ever looked out for.

Maybe..they had more in common than they realized.

'She's the reason Roxy didn't go rogue like all the others...she's been fighting tooth and nail to protect this girl..'

"Y-You mean that?"

"Every word." Nodding, you embraced her as she began to cry, oil leaking from her sockets. Her arms eventually found their way around you, and while constricting...you didn't dare to let her go.

Not anytime soon.

Now it's gonna be your turn to protect her.

#clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #fnaf sb x reader #fnaf ruin x reader #fnaf security breach x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #roxanne wolf #roxanne wolf x reader #platonic #ruined roxy #ruin roxy #hurt/comfort #fnaf ruin spoilers #ruin spoilers

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sotwk · 6 months

Text

The Best Gift (Legolas x f!Reader)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir)

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window.

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window.

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.”

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen.

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused.

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.”

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.”

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.”

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless. But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him.

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet. “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck, you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself.

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm.

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path.

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning.

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground.

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home.

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall.

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”.

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

For more SotWK Fanfiction: Fanfiction Masterlist

Other useful links:

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#sotwk fanfiction #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas thranduilion #fanfic request #legolas #gelir thranduilion #sotwk oc #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #lotr #the hobbit #lotr fanfic

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naughtyneganjdm · 9 months

Text

Jealousy

Summary: Jealousy was not something you were used to feeling, but with your older sister Tess with Joel Miller that's all you seem to feel. One day when you're alone on watch with Joel, you tell him how you feel and Joel's curiosity leads to a night of pleasure between you.

Characters: Joel Miller, & the reader (OC, second person).

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49656460

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, oral (both m + f receiving), cheating, spanking, etc.

Notes: I just wanted to write something short and quick for a Joel one shot. Hope you like it. I'm not used to doing second person as of late, so I hope it's okay.

Jealousy was not a feeling you were used to, especially when it came to your older sister Tess. You loved the hell out of her. But anytime you saw Tess with Joel Miller you felt incredible amounts of jealousy. When your group hooked up with Tommy and Joel, you were the first to meet Joel and immediately you were attracted to him. Both him and his brother had protected you from a group of raiders. When you first laid eyes on Joel, he was brutal. Killing men without question with blood covering his face, but when he spoke to you after he saved you, he was soft spoken and kind. There was something about his southern drawl and his chocolate brown eyes that appealed to you.

But rather quickly him and Tess started to connect and there was nothing that you could do about it. On your journey to the next stop your group was planning you watched Joel and Tess get closer and you felt so jealous of it. You wondered what drew him to Tess and not you. What was it about her that made Joel latch onto her? What were you missing that she wasn’t?

Right now you should have been listening because the group was talking about their next plan to get more supplies. The group was settled in the middle of the woods right now and they always assigned two people to watch over the supplies while the rest of the group went on a run.

Joel and Tess took on the role of the leaders and while they stood before the group all you could do was stare out at Joel as he stood before everyone. His arms were folded out in front of his chest and you felt your throat going dry staring out at him. The veins were prominent in his strong arms and it made your throat go dry while you ogled him. Lowering your stare, your eyes fell to the center of Joel’s pants and the bulge made you lick your lips. You could only imagine what Joel had going on down there. Some nights you heard Joel and Tess together from your tent which made things so complicated for you. With the noises that Tess made, it sounded like Joel was a beast in the sack, but that wasn’t something you should have been thinking when it was the man that was dating your sister. Well, at least that’s what it seemed like. Joel never put a label on things, but with them hooking up that’s what it seemed.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Tess called out your name snapping her fingers at you, pulling your attention back to your sister who seemed frustrated that you weren’t paying attention. “You heard me say that you and Joel are going to be the ones stationed here to protect our supplies?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nodded your head. That was a lie. You didn’t hear any of that, but you weren’t sure how that made you feel. Being alone with Joel for who knows how long was going to be awkward. Especially with how you felt toward him.

“I still think I’m more useful on the road than I am here,” Joel grumbled under his breath and it made you roll your eyes knowing that he likely didn’t want to be stuck here with you. Tess turned him away from the group and you stood up from the ground, kicking at the dirt when you moved near the stream that was by the camp.

You stayed there until people started moving out and after a while you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat as they approached you standing by the water, “You don’t like me all that much, do you?”

“What?” you snickered hearing the familiarity in Joel’s voice and you chuckled at the idea of you being the one that didn’t like him. “I was pretty sure it was you that didn’t like me all that much.”

“What in God’s name would make you think that?” Joel headed over toward the big rock that was in the distance beside the water to take a seat on top of it. “You’re the one that runs off in the other direction anytime I’m around you.”

“It’s complicated,” you noted feeling the heat of the sun over you and you let out a tense breath. Gazing back, you saw that everyone was gone and you shrugged your shoulders. “Plus, you’re not much of a talker Joel.”

“Touché,” Joel stared out at the water hooking his arms around his knees. “What’s your problem with me then?”

“I don’t like you with my sister,” you answered honestly not bothering to look at him when you spoke.

“I’m not with your sister,” Joel corrected shifting uncomfortably on the rock that he was sitting on.

“Then what is it that you would call that you have going on between the two of you?” you inquired, your eyebrow raising in curiosity and Joel huffed.

“I don’t know,” Joel shrugged his shoulders, his face twisting with an emotion you couldn’t read. “It’s complicated.”

“Fair enough,” you breathed out, reaching down to pick up one of the smaller stones that were at your feet. Tossing it out toward the water, you didn’t know what to say to that. On the one hand, you should have been angry that Joel was weird about his relationship with your sister for Tess, but you were just mad about it for yourself. You wanted Joel’s attention.

“Why does it bother you that I’m close to your sister?” Joel wondered, his eyes squinting and his hand raising up to try to block the sun that was shining in his eyes so he could see you by the water.

“Just forget it,” you replied with a frown hating that you brought it up in the first place because he would probably bring it up to Tess later. Which would start a fight between the two of you.

Grabbing another stone, you tossed it out into the water again and heard Joel jumping down from where he was, “You’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m doing what wrong?” you snapped when Joel moved in beside you, kneeling down to search for a certain kind of stone. Once he stood back up, he reached for your hand and you pulled away from him like his touch was fire. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you something,” Joel frowned moving in behind you to place the stone in your hand. Turning your body had his hand settling in over your hip causing your eyes to slam shut tightly. The warmth of his breath lingered at the back of your neck as he adjusted you once more. “You need a flatter stone like this one. And you have to throw it like this…”

Joel used your body to instruct you on how to throw one of the stones to get it to skip across the water. It skipped three times before stopping and Joel grumbled. Releasing you left your heart hammering inside of your chest. That was the first time that Joel had you in his arms and you were effected by it more than you should have been.

“If you weren’t so tense it should have been more like this,” Joel grabbed a stone for himself to show you what it was like when he skipped a stone across the water. It went on for a bit before finally coming to a stop. “I’m not going to hurt you when I touch you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know,” you simply stated reaching for one of the kind of stones he had instructed you to grab. Doing what he had taught you, you watched it skip across the water a few times and Joel clapped his hands together.

“See, keep practicing and you will get better,” Joel grumbled, dropping down to the ground to sit near the edge of the water with you standing beside him. “Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to listen to me y’know? I might actually know what I’m talking about.”

“Could you stop acting like I have a problem with you? Because I don’t,” you declared lowering down on the ground beside him and his curious brown eyes were on you. “In fact, I like you. I like you a lot.”

“I’m confused,” Joel stammered, his eyebrows furrowing when he glanced between you and the water. God, men were so blind to things at times.

“That’s the problem Joel. I like you too much,” you confessed finally looking to him feeling a heat flooding into your cheeks. “From the first moment I saw you I was crushing on you. I thought I made it pretty obvious and at first, I thought you liked me back, but then you started hooking up with my sister and I realized pretty quickly that it was just you being nice because you liked my sister.”

“What?” Joel snickered, his dimples becoming clear when he found amusement in what you said.

“You know what? Never mind,” you felt embarrassed that you admitted your biggest secret to him and he laughed at you about it. Before you could stand up, you felt Joel’s thick fingers curling around your wrist urging you to sit back down. “It’s not funny. I’m serious.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Joel wondered, his nose wrinkling and you shrugged your shoulders. There was a silence that filled the air around you and you frowned. “I reckon that makes sense now why you run off all the time. What about Tommy?”

“What about Tommy?” you repeated, irritated at the mention of Joel’s younger brother. “We barely talk as it is.”

“Well he’s closer to your age,” Joel pointed out tossing his hand up in the air trying to persuade you to like his brother and you laughed. “You’re younger than Tommy. It would make more sense with you hooking up with someone like him than it would you hooking up with someone like me.”

“So I’m too young for you?” you confirmed hearing Joel let out a loud exhale and his eyes shifted as if he was trying to think of something to say. “What do you mean someone like you?”

“I mean, I’m older,” Joel waved his hand about and you rolled your eyes. Acting like there was a huge age gap between the two of you was ridiculous. “I’m quiet. A lone wolf. You’re more like Tommy. Talkative. Innocent.”

“Am I not attractive to you?” you felt like he was just making excuses at this point.

“You’re very attractive,” Joel blurt out, holding his hand up to silence you from speaking. “I’m flattered that you like me. I am. But I’m with your sister, I’m not sure what you expect me to do about it.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything about it, but I’m sure Tess will hear all about it and I will get lectured for having a crush on you,” you suggested with a frown, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose damning yourself for even telling Joel in the first place. “Please, just forget that I told you.”

“I’m not going to run to your sister and tell her,” Joel assured you with a grunt, adjusting his positioning on the ground beside you. “I just…even if I wanted to do something with you, I can’t just stop what I have with your sister. It would be awkward and we’ve connected. Your sister would kill me.”

“What made you pick her to begin with?” you were curious, but you knew you would probably hate the answer.

“Your sister is a badass. She’s strong, a natural leader, beautiful,” Joel began waving his hand about and you lowered your head knowing that Tess was always the one that stood out even at home with your family. Tess was always your family’s favorite between the two of you. “And she made the first move.”

“So if I would have made the first move, you would have picked me?” you tossed out the idea and Joel shrugged his shoulders, the face he made was incredibly dramatic.

“We’ll never know because you didn’t make your move,” Joel suggested with a growl, his dark eyes narrowing. “You have nothing but yourself to blame. Speak up next time you want something.”

“Wow, fuck you,” you let out an annoyed breath going to push up from where you were seated. Moving swiftly, Joel’s rough fingers led you toward him claiming your lips in a faint kiss. After a moment like that, you should have reacted better but when Joel pulled back to stare up at you with his dark eyes you found yourself frozen. You knew you could have smacked him for being a dick right before, but you were confused with the kiss. What the hell was that? Joel’s thumb stroked over your chin before he stood up before you, his other hand cupping your face. His palm was rough and it tickled at your flesh causing a shuddering exhale to fall from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t always have to question everything, y’know that right?” Joel wondered, leaning forward to tease his lips over yours. The warmth of his breath lingering had your eyes fluttering to a close and you tipped your head back. Just barely his lips touched yours, skimming over them and it made a chill run down your spine. “Just relax sometimes.”

After that, he brought your lips together in a stronger kiss. This time it was prominent and it made your lips part allowing Joel’s tongue to brush up against yours and you purred. Maybe being alone with Joel wasn’t so bad after all. Amusement flooded his features when he pulled back just enough to look down at you. Placing your hand over the center of Joel’s chest, you tipped up on your toes in attempts to kiss him further, but he pulled away.

“Now I have to go be on watch,” Joel informed you with an entertained smirk, pointing back toward the front. Having him stepping back and away from you just left you confused. “We do have a job to do after all.”

“Joel,” you called out to him when he started to walk away and you felt your heartbeat racing. What the hell was that? Why would he tease you like that? Was he really so cruel that he would be playing with your emotions after you told him how you felt about him.

Throughout the rest of the day, you hardly ever interacted with Joel. He had the front of the camp. You had the back. That’s how things went. And when the group came back, Joel barely even acknowledged you. When you were sitting around by the fire talking before bed, his eyes connected with yours and he smiled but that was it. It was like all of that was nothing but a dream. Why did he even bother to kiss you like that in the first place?

Once you were in your own tent, you found yourself touching your lips. Your thoughts lingered on the way that his lips felt against yours and the way he tasted. Attempting to get comfortable, you heard the sound of the zipper on your tent opening and you pushed yourself up ready to attack whoever was entering your tent.

“At ease soldier,” Joel’s deep voice rumbled causing you to give him an odd expression. Kneeling at the front of your tent, he had one of his hands raised and he was laughing. That was a rare thing from Joel. You weren’t used to that kind of thing from him. Also, Joel never came to your tent at night. Crawling into your tent, Joel zipped it up behind him and stared out at you through the small amount of light that was left from the solar lantern that you had yet to turn off. “You really like me?”

“I do,” you responded, your mouth going dry confused why he was in your tent with you.

“I can’t drop what I have with your sister,” Joel explained reaching for the back of his shirt to pull it from his body causing you to let out a surprised sound. Immediately your eyes were focusing on his shirtless abdomen. Joel’s biceps were strong and so were his shoulders. His stomach was a little soft, but you liked it. Yanking the blanket that you had over you off, he reached for your pants and started to tug at them. You didn’t fight him when he got them down your legs and tossed them aside with your shirt. “But I’m okay having something with you too if that’s what you want. It just can’t be…public.”

“Where’s Tess?” you inquired and Joel gave a half smirk.

“She’s out cold. It was a rough day and I came over here,” he whispered hooking his arms underneath your hips to pull you out closer to him getting you on your back. Hooking his fingers into your panties had you tremoring beneath him and he smiled. “You’re so much more innocent than your sister, aren’t you? See, your sister, she’s the dominating one. But you, you just want to be dominated, don’t you?”

“Joel,” you gasped out watching him lowering down onto his stomach, resting himself between your thighs. Faint kisses were being pressed over the insides of your thighs and you dropped your head back. You should have been telling him no, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do that. Once his lips found their way to your core, you had to silence yourself knowing that any sound could awaken someone in the camp and that was the last thing you wanted. Lifting your head up, you saw that Joel’s eyes were focused on you while he lapped his tongue at the length of your sex. Circling his tongue around your clitoris had your thighs tensing up and you bit firmly down onto your bottom lip to silence yourself. “Fuck.”

“I know it’s hard sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to stay quiet. If you can’t, we’ll never be able to pull something off like this,” Joel pulled his mouth away with a wet sound outstretching his hand to turn the lantern down to the minimum amount of lighting. You hated that because you would have liked to have seen him clearer, but you understood why he did it. Getting comfortable again, he traced his fingers up the length of your body and hummed when your hips arched up toward him. “Good girl.”

Forcing yourself to stay quiet while Joel pleasured you was incredibly hard. Joel knew exactly what he was doing to you with his tongue and mouth. And he was good at it too. Clasping tightly to the blankets, you bit down on your bottom lip muting yourself while he feasted on you. Every flick of his tongue was strong and powerful before he suckled at your clit causing you to arch up toward him. Tossing your head back, you closed your eyes tightly rocking yourself against Joel’s face while he ate you out. Even the sounds he was making had your body tremoring.

You wanted to scream out his name. You wanted to say something, but all you could do when you felt him inserting one of his thick fingers into you was reach down and hook tightly to his hair. There was no going slow with this. Joel pumped his finger into you at the same tempo of his tongue and soon he had you a shaking mess beneath him when your body gave way to him allowing an orgasm to hit you hard.

Barely giving you any time to come down from your high, you felt Joel crawling in over you and behind hooded eyes you watched him eagerly pulling apart the belt in his pants. Once it was separated, he was pulling at his jeans and opened them. Pushing them down, he urged the front of his boxer briefs down with them and allowed his cock to spring free from behind the material.

“Jesus,” you licked your lips at the sight of him before you amongst the small amount of light. Seeing his cock hard and throbbing before you made your mouth water. Now you got it. The sounds your sister made at night, it was because Joel was big.

“Come here,” Joel’s fingers wrapped around his length, stroking his fingers over his distended flesh had your eyes focused on his movements. Getting up on your hands, you felt Joel’s other hand reaching out to curl around the back of your neck. Leading you toward his erection, Joel teased the tip of his cock over your wet lips. “You have the prettiest lips, y’know that?”

Humming out, you pressed wet kisses against the tip hearing him silently groan while you took your time. After a few teasing kisses, you felt him pushing his cock harder over your lips. Parting them, you allowed him to sink his length into your mouth and he might have been a little too eager because it made you gag at first. Joel was big, it wasn’t like you were going to be able to take him all at once.

Grasping a tight hold of his bare hips, you dug your fingers into his flesh while Joel’s fingers sank into your hair helping you to lead your mouth over his length. Twirling your tongue around the tip allowed you to collect the taste of him over your tongue and you purred. It would have been nice to have a little bit more control, but you understood that with your sister Joel likely never had much of that. So you allowed him to control the movements your mouth made over his thick member.

Wet sounds filled the small tent and when you pulled your mouth back, it made a slurping sound fall from your lips when you licked over them. Looking up at Joel with an innocent stare had him moaning out and his cock twitched before you.

“Please,” you begged causing Joel to swallow down hard enough for you to hear. Grabbing a hold of your shirt, Joel pulled it up and over your arms tossing it to the ground. Helping him get your bra unhooked, you huffed when you felt Joel flipping you over onto your stomach. “Can I look at you first? Please? We can do that soon, but I just…I want to look at you.”

Huffing out, Joel allowed you to turn onto your back and he lowered down in over you. A nervous breath fell from your lips when Joel reached for his rigid cock, tapping the swollen tip against your clitoris. Truthfully? You were nervous. Joel was big and you assumed this was going to hurt.

“Joel,” you whispered out when he got comfortable between your thighs. Tracing your fingers over the side of his face had his brown eyes gazing into yours. Teasing through the facial hair over his jawline, you lifted up to bring your lips together to kiss him tenderly. “Could you be gentle at first? I hear what you’re like with Tess and you’re just big…you can get rougher, but just let me get used to you, please?”

“I’ll do my best,” he breathed out, balancing his weight on his left hand while his right led it toward your entrance. Having the tip at your opening made you want to pull your hips away, but you allowed him to push his hips forward letting him enter you. It was uncomfortable, but in a way, you were willing to continue. Dropping his other hand down, Joel moved in over you and watched your expressions. “More?”

“Go ahead,” you instructed, biting down on your bottom lip when he rolled his hips just slightly watching your hot canal take more of him inside of you. Your left hand was curled around the back of his neck, your right tracing down to his lower abdomen where it was soft to pause his movements. Lifting your head up, you knew you couldn’t cry out. Joel was stretching you. Unlike any man ever had before and it was uncomfortable, but your body craved having him further inside of you. Rocking your hips at his length, trying to open yourself up to what you already had inside of you had Joel’s eyes coming to a tight close. “Just do it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel spoke finally rolling his hips forward, his left hand sliding up to cover your lips when he knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back the cry that escaped your lips. Joel lowered down close to you, bottoming out and it made your back arch. Fuck, you thought you were ready for that. Starting to press kisses over the side of your neck, Joel took his time in pulling his hips back before pressing forward. Your legs hooked around his waist, your heels digging into the area just below his bottom allowing you to feel the muscle flex beneath them with every thrust he made. “You’re so damn tight. Goddamn it.”

Whimpering, you felt Joel’s fingers getting tighter around your lips to keep you silent. With every thrust he made, your body started getting use to the feeling of him filling you, stretching you in ways you never had. Joel was used to being quiet, you could tell that. There was no question he had trained himself to be that way. Any source of pleasure was coming from his facial features. And he seemed to like being buried deep inside of you.

Once you seemed to not be as tense, Joel’s thrusts grew strong. His head was buried against the side of your neck while your fingers dug into his shoulder. You knew that you couldn’t leave a mark on him. It was something that Tess would question, so you didn’t hurt him. But hell, the way he was with you, you knew that he would be leaving marks. Attempting to lift your head, you watched his cock filling you again and again, your hips rocking up toward his and you were starting to feel hot all over. Each thrust sounded wetter and you threw your head back. Joel never let go of your mouth and with the orgasm that hit you with his balls smacking up against you it was probably smart. Whining against his hand, you felt him pulling out of you and it made you wince. God, it ached with him in you, but it hurt worse without him.

Forcefully, Joel turned you over onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your knees. Pushing at the center of your back, he still kept your face pressed into the pillows. No doubt in attempts to keep you quiet. Joel’s left hand was at the back of your neck, while his right grasped a hold of your hips. With a powerful thrust forward, Joel was inside of you again pounding away. Each thrust was hard with flesh smacking up against flesh.

Curling your fingers around the blanket, you knew that you would have rather been watching Joel over you, but he was making you his in the way he wanted. And you were certainly going to be feeling it after tonight. Pulling his hand from your neck, Joel’s hands squeezed at your bottom testing the flesh in his grasp. Over and over again he filled you and it felt like he was testing you to see if you would make some kind of sound. If it meant getting to be with him again, you were going to be as quiet as you possibly could.

Wincing, you closed your eyes when you felt Joel spanking firmly over your bottom. It made you bounce forward, but his hands were quick to pull you back to him so he could continue his strong thrusts. Another spank made you bounce your hips forward, your eyes slamming shut when he caressed over your stinging flesh. Smack. There was another and you purred out when the pain started to ease. It was like you were being punished in the most delicious way possible.

“Good girl,” Joel praised you, spanking you once more finding amusement in the way your hips started to bounce back toward his thrusts. “We’ll have your tight little pussy perfect and ready for me whenever we can manage to sneak these visits in.”

In that moment, your body tensed up and he moaned. God, that was rare, but hearing that moan was the most intoxicating thing you had ever heard. It led a chill down your spine and you felt like you were on fire. You wanted to hear more of it and you repeated what you had done before.

“You’re being bad,” Joel moaned out his chest flexing and his balls tightening up. Pushing into your lower back had you laying flat out against your stomach. Crawling in over you, Joel braced himself on his arms when he lowered down, his lips kissing in over your jawline. Urging you to close your legs up left you extremely tight while he thrust into you vigorously. “If you can continue to be a good girl, we can keep this whole thing up. You feel so good, I have no problem doing this again.”

Outstretching his hands, Joel reached for your fingers hooking them with his. Repeatedly he filled you, his cock starting to throb inside of you. Crying out into the pillow, your eyes slammed shut when Joel bit at your jawline. With a groan, Joel pulled his hips back releasing your right hand when he started to pump his fingers around his cock. Warm sprays of his cum over your bottom were felt and the warmth of his breath lingered over your ear. Pressing kisses against your flesh, Joel continued to stroke over his body until the last strand of his cum covered your lower back.

“You did so good,” Joel slurred, nipping at your earlobe. Tapping his cock against your bottom a few times, Joel sighed and started to pull his pants back up over his hips. Pushing his softening cock back into his pants and boxer briefs Joel fell back onto your blankets beside you and panted. You didn’t have the energy to move. Joel wore you out and he did a good job of it. “I reckon that’s everything you wanted.”

“And more,” you whispered, your eyelids heavy hearing him chuckle. Reaching into his pocket, Joel pulled out a tissue and you felt him cleaning up the mess that he made over your ass and back. With an amused sound, Joel reached for his t-shirt and pulled it back over his body. Curling his finger in underneath your chin, he pulled your head up enough for him to place a few kisses over your lips. “Are you leaving?”

“I have to,” Joel replied nodding toward the area you knew the tent that he shared with Tess was. “She can wake up at any time. But this was nice. I liked this. We should do it again sometime soon. Next time you will be more ready for me with that tight little pussy of yours.”

“Joel,” you called out when he went to head for the zipper to get out. “One more kiss.”

With a smirk, Joel pushed forward onto his hands to claim your lips in a kiss. It lingered on with his fingers stroking over the side of your face and a smile followed when he looked you over once you parted.

“Get some sleep,” Joel instructed, nipping your bottom lip. Once he started to undo the zipper of your tent, he sighed. “You’re going to need some rest. Your body needs it.”

And with that, Joel left your tent leaving you alone after your incredible sex with him. Your body was still shaking, your heart hammering inside of your chest and you sighed. What you had just done with the person your sister was close to was so wrong, but you didn’t care. You wanted Joel for so long and if this was the only way you were going to get him, you were going to take it. Because Joel was just too damn good to give up.

#Joel Miller #The Last of Us #Joel Miller fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller X You #Joel Miller smut #TLOU fanfiction

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

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Nico cannot get out of the stupid van fast enough, practically throwing himself out of the sliding door.

“You should kiss the ground, next,” comments Will drily, stepping out of the van like a normal person. (Easy for him. He got shotgun.) “Since you’re being so dramatic already.” He nudges Nico with his toe, who is sprawled out in the beautiful, beautiful grass, basking in the SoCal sun. “It was not that bad.”

“Easy for you to say!” Nico cracks open one eye to glare, which is hard to do when Will smiles so fondly at him. But he’s a professional. “You had legroom! I was cramped in the back with Cecil!”

“I have long legs,” Will says haughtily, at the same time Cecil calls out, “Hey!”

Nico plucks a handful of grass — dirt and roots and all — and chucks it at him. He relishes in the screeching.

“You let one loose in the back of the already rank-ass van with broken windows. You’re lucky you’re still alive, you fucking asshole.”

Cecil really is lucky to be alive, and he knows it, so he doesn’t say anything. Nico had truly almost killed him. It was Lou Ellen, on Cecil’s other side, who had begun absolutely wailing on the son of Hermes with her book that had satisfied Nico enough to refrain from gutting him.

“I still think Nico should have killed you,” Lou Ellen mutters, from her own sprawl of relief on the ground. “I also think I am never road tripping with you people ever, ever again.”

“Except for the drive back in three days,” Will points out, and the whole lot of them groan.

In truth, it wasn’t that bad. Sure, the camp van is pretty much older than Nico, and sure, they all should have considered the implications of Will claiming he had the music handled before committing themselves to getting stuck on the I-80 with it. Sure, Austin is a horrible driver (he freaking zig-zags through traffic like he’s allergic to sticking to one lane), and Leo’s constantly bouncing leg makes the whole van shake, and Piper snores when she sleeps (and she slept at least half the drive), and Kayla gets chip crumbs everywhere, and Lou Ellen — well, actually Lou Ellen is great. No issues. It’s everyone else who is a menace.

But, well.

Nico had fun. Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“Next time, we’re shadow travelling,” he grumbles, accepting Will’s hand up. Will squeezes twice and says, without missing a beat, “Not a chance, sunshine.”

“Well, then, we’re getting fucking plane tickets. Zeus can kiss my ass.”

Will’s laughter echoes all the way across the Little Tiber, louder than even the roar of warning thunder.

— — —

part two

#part one of five i think!!!!!#a new rome visit :D #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo & will solance #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #nico/will #cecil markowitz #lou ellen blackstone #just a whole crew of em #my writing #fic #longpost

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nerdraging4point0 · 3 months

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Underdog//Motionless one shot

The work below consists of fictionalized ideas and stories. It is an alternate universe story with only names and likenesses used in creation of a character. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Please review the content warning before proceeding.

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent. This does not mean that the behavior is ethical or acceptable in reality-does it happen, yes. Is that something I am going to go into? No. I am not an attorney. Per ChampionWomen Sexual contacts or “romantic” relationships between an athlete and a person who has a position of power over the athlete are prohibited. Person of power includes but is not limited to coaches, administrators, judges, referees, employers, staff, medical personnel, and even volunteers or older athletes and teammates.] the following one shot includes unprotected sex, P/V sex, fingering.

A.N: @mysticdoodlez and @ladyveronikawrites I present to you and owe you for this fucking piece of art.

Exhibition

Coach Cerulli stood off to the side in the coach's box, not saying a word, his legs shoulder-width apart as he swayed back and forth on his feet. He wears his disgustingly dark ensemble of worn high-top Converse and straight-leg jeans. Already obnoxiously tall, the dress style made him look even more intimidating. Glancing over him once, you notice an apparent sweat triangle starting at the collar of the black cotton tee he wore under his polyester team jersey. An electric green sea turtle was stitched on the right side of his chest, and Cerulli was stitched on the back. Trying to focus on your drill partner, Rachel, you steal quick glances after each ball toss. Under the black bill of his ball cap, Coach Cerulli's jaw clenched as he chewed the pale green gum between his teeth.

Rachel rolled the neon yellow ball across the rust-colored dirt toward you; spreading your legs apart, bending at the waist, glove in hand, you dip to the ground, catching the ball on its roll, securing it with your other hand, you take a step, and toss the ball to her again.

As a team, you'd been at this for an hour now; the humidity from the earlier rain made beads of sweat start at the back of your neck and under your cap. The gray storm clouds rolled over the Florida coast, looking angry; another storm was approaching.

Balmy tropical air and classic South Florida smell were something you'd missed when you were on break. Some of the girls decided to pack up and hit the slopes of Colorado for a week; you were more than eager to go. It had been a celebratory and bittersweet season last year, and you were all due for a nice getaway. Coach Adams announced last season that she'd be retiring sooner than expected. Her youngest had just graduated High School, and she struggled to adjust.

Enter Coach Cerulli.

He was overbearing and a perfectionist; he drilled and worked the team till he felt you were perfect. It worked, or maybe it was because you wanted to impress Coach Adams for her final season. Leaving the season last year, you were nearly undefeated. And it was no surprise now that he demanded the same perfection.

"You're looking soft, ladies. Let's pick it up. I wanna see some sweat, some determination, act like you fucking want it." He crossed his arms, kicking up some of the dirt from the field before he dropped down, squatting on one knee as he stretched the other to its entire length.

Several players on the team turned to look at the coach; it was no secret most of the team found him hot. He was older. Way older. But that added to the heat of the idea. You were aware of Coach Cerulli's attractiveness, his dark hair and eyes; the only part of his skin not covered in tattoos was his achingly beautiful face. Once you'd gotten close enough to see his three little scars on his bottom lip, it only added to the mystery of what had been his past. Fantasy is what it was; it was all fantasy. There was no room for error when your college life was riding on a full sports scholarship.

The team continued to drill, the breeze from the water bringing a salty taste to the air. Soon, the sun started to get lost behind the gray cover, thinking it might rain you guys out; the team slowed on drills, looking to coach and back at the sky. Coach stands up to his full height, his powerful form casting a shadow over the field. Deep and commanding, his voice brought the team's eyes and attention to him.

"I've high expectations for my team; this isn't just any season. I have my sights set on the championship title, and we won't settle for anything less." Clapping his hands, you can hear the friction of him rubbing the skin together, his tattooed fingers lacing and curling over each other in a frenzy. A low rumble of thunder sounded from the sky; Coach Cerulli pursed his lips and looked at the foreboding weather.

"One scrimmage, and we'll call it a night."

The team scrambled to their gear as he called out names and positions. You adjusted your cap, pulling loose strands of hair around your ears and reaching for your glove when the coach's voice called out your name.

"y/l/n. You're batting." There was no nonsense in his voice, and when you turned to protest, he smacked his gum between his teeth, heading to stand behind home plate.

You never bat, at least not first; the pressure is too much. You were a fielder on the team with the best reflexes and speed. Others were better at this than you. Grabbing the bat, you lower your cap and head to the base. Coach is droning on about how he demands perfection from all players.

"We won't be putting people in places of their strength. I want you uncomfortable; it's the only way you grow." He turns to look at you and nods his head. Stepping up to the plate, you take your spot, raising your bat, eyes locked on Sammi, who is pitching. She gives you a look of pity, and you know she'll take it easy on you, at least.

"Bat up." Coach growls.

"It is up," you snap back.

"If 'up' means hanging off your shoulder. It needs to be up higher. Fix your grip."

You tighten your hands on the bat's base, nails nearly touching your palms as your hands turn white.

"Too tight, you're not strangling it."

You huff out the air in your lungs, rolling your eyes. Just let me hit the ball, goddamnit.

Sammi pitches the ball. It's a simple pitch, and you swing, barely ticking the ball; it doesn't even get air, hardly leaving the home base as it rolls back to her. Just great, I look like a peewee player in front of the coach.

"Jenson, if you're gonna pitch. Pitch." he snaps.

You watch as her face turns apologetic; great, no easy out this time.

"Fix your stance." a smack of his gum between his teeth follows his command. You can hear the wet smacking sounds, throwing you off concentration. He continues to throw useless advice your way each time you miss the ball.

"You're off center."

Your patience is running thin, and you can see the players on the field becoming bored from the lack of action, just standing in the field and talking back and forth.

"Ladies, look alive!" Coach booms, and they jump into their stance.

Sammi nods at you, winding up to pitch; you lose all of the coach's advice, squaring up how you want. The swing is powerful, but the ball still whooshes by your bat and hits the fence behind the coach.

You let the air out of your lungs, turning around to see Coach Cerulli looking right at you, arms crossed over his torso. You can see his brown eyes sparkling under his ball cap.

"Nice hit," he says sarcastically.

Tossing the bat, you walk off the field, tears stinging the back of your eyes and starting to burn your throat. You've had enough for one night.

You can hear him bark orders to the team as the practice continues without you. Walking from the field, you walked around campus once, then twice; on your second lap, you realized you were halfway to your dorm and didn't have any of your gear. Your hands drag down your face in frustration, pushing your cap off your head. Your hair is sticky as you put the cap between your teeth and readjust the ponytail. Throwing the cap back on your head, you turn on your heel and head back to the field.

Making your way back, you pass several teammates; keeping your cap down, you avoid their eye contact, but the sudden silence as you pass and the sad voices that follow behind your back don't go unnoticed.

Rachel caught sight of you, jogging up to meet you halfway walking backward as you continued your walk of shame to the field.

"What's up? You walked off?" She has such sadness in her voice. She knows that you are sometimes too hard on yourself. You only have a little social life between studies and sports; your trip out of state lets you loosen up and gives you a good one-night stand. But it made you realize how much you hated having unsatisfactory sex with some drunk frat boy.

"Rough time, that's all," you confess.

"I know you hate batting. I'm sorry." you only shrug your shoulders in response.

Coach Cerulli is tossing bags of extra bats and gloves next to the storage shed; the way he lifts the gear bag, throwing it over his shoulder, you catch his shirt ride up just a bit to reveal his tattooed torso.

"Need me to wait?" Rachel asks, offering a soft touch on your shoulder.

"No. I got this." She jogs back to the campus as you enter the field. Turning at the dugout, not meeting the coach's eyes as he looks your way.

You are gathering your gear in your bag, trying not to make eye contact with the coach. The thunder is rumbling overhead again, closer than before; you can smell the rain coming. A heavy set of footsteps, and suddenly, he's clearing his throat behind you, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Sorry, coach." You keep your voice low and sincere. Feeling the pain in your throat again. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"What's up with you out there?" The way he sounds less demanding, and the friendly tone in his words makes a lump form in your throat.

"I just get choked up."

"Why, you're here on a scholarship. Adams said you were the most dedicated player."

"And I am." You don't bother turning around. Tossing your glove and a few extra things into your bag.

"Didn't look like it today."

"People aren't perfect; not everyone can play every position you know." You turn around to face him; he's leaning against the dugout rail, ankles crossed, hands resting on the dark blue rail.

"So, what is it that holds you back?"

"I just…. It's the crowd, the ump, and the pressure. The crowd is watching me, the team is watching me, and you're watching me." He adjusts his cap, turning his head to spit his gum out in the grass.

"Grab your bat."

"What?" He kicks off the rail, stopping till he is only a foot in front of you.

"You heard me. Grab your bat."

You scrambled for the bat as he walked back onto the field. You follow close behind, with no other teammates around the field that looks like it goes on for miles. Taking up your space next to home, you get ready to bat.

You are barely set before he criticizes you.

"Okay, first, your grip is too much." He stepped forward, putting his hands over yours, pulling your fingers loose from the neck, his large hands encasing your own as he helped re-grip the bat properly.

"Loosen up, spread your hands out a bit. There," the last word comes out as a soft whisper.

His brown eyes softened as he looked into your face, calloused hands brushing your skin; they were surprisingly well taken care of, the tattoos accenting every knuckle. The sweet smell of wintergreen off his breath, the fragrance winding up your insides.

"Your feet," he circled around till he was standing behind you, twisting your body around till you could see him again; he tsked, circling the air with his finger for you to return to where you were.

"You're always on your toes,” he complained.

His words were almost lost to the electricity in your brain; he squatted down behind you, one arm sliding between your legs to wrap around your thigh, a hand bracing on your knee, as his other massaged down my calf to have your heel flatten on the ground.

"Now, for your hips." Coach's words sound scratchy; you can hear him swallow hard behind you. His hands ghost over your hips, carefully not to actually touch you. "You must bend at the waist and practically fold yourself in half."

"Arch my back?" you offer. He clears his throat the way it sounded like he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah, sounds about right."

You adjust your hips arching your back, with your feet firmly planted against the ground, your cleats into the dirt, pushing your ass back. You feel yourself brush against his body, and he hisses.

"Easy there, tiger."

"S-s-sorry." you stammer as you try to step back. His hands grab your hips and place you back in your stance. His body is so close you can feel the heat building on your skin; suddenly, you aren't distracted by nerves but by something else.

"We aren't done; just watch it," he whispers. "You want to keep yourself firm in this spot until you're ready to swing."

A drop of warm water hits your arm, then another, and another. The rain starts to pour down in a gentle storm.

"Shit." Coach releases your hips as you both jog back to the dugout. Safe under the awning, you lose footing on the last step, stumbling into the coach. He catches you, arms around your waist, as he stumbles back.

"Sorry," your voice barely audible over the rain tapping on the metal awning; you place your hands on his chest, feeling the stiff muscles underneath. Trying to push off to create distance between the two of you. Coach Cerulli's hands don't move as he looks down at you, those dark eyes glistening under the shadow of his cap. This close to him, your senses are overwhelmed with the smell of him-palo santo and amber, a rich blend like a robust coffee in one of those expensive coffee shops.

His hands slid up your back, gently caressing over the upper part of your arms, stopping at your wrists and taking them in a grip before pulling your hands off his chest.

"Let's work on your hips some more. It looks like we've got the time." The way he says the words suggests he doesn’t mean anything about batting anymore.

He spun you around so seamlessly, releasing your wrists to take your hips in the vice grip of his tattooed fingers. Pulling your body toward him, you could feel yourself make contact with his chest; he was so tall, the feeling of what was unmistakably his own arousal resting at your lower back.

Flames licked into your lower belly as his hands tightened, then loosened on your hips. He started to move you, sliding your hips from left to right in slow motions. "Keep your feet planted on the floor." The harsh whisper in your ear made every part of your skin tremble with anticipation.

You tried to steady your breathing as he moved you in slow motion against his body. Was this all a dream? Were you asleep in physics and about to be highly embarrassed when you woke up?

Your hands rested on his, trying to prove to yourself that all that was happening was real. Leaning back into his chest, he groaned as he pulled you in closer.

"This is so wrong." your voice trembles as you speak.

"Very," he growled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

Fuck, please don't.

It wasn't a good idea to continue, but the feeling, the expert way his hands held you without touching anything intimate, made you melt.

Leaning your head back into his chest, your face turned to him, desperate for his kiss. Sensing your desperation, Coach took the bill of his hat between two fingers, spinning the cap on his head so it faced backward. Closing in on your face, his full lips consuming your own, two fingers brushing your cheek, tapping twice, asking you to open.

The second your jaw relaxed into the kiss, his tongue was assaulting your own. He tasted so good, that gum he'd been chewing and something nutty at the end filling your taste buds.

You let your arm snake behind his head, cupping the back of his neck to bring him closer. One of his hands takes your breast and squeezes the flesh through your clothes, your nipples sensitive to the touch even through all the layers. His other hand slides over the front of your shorts, pushing between your thighs; your hips start to grind into his hand, desperate for friction, earning a sound of approval from the coach.

Pulling apart from each other, lips wet, red, and swollen, you were panting to catch all the air you'd lost in the kiss.

"Brace yourself, tiger," he warned.

Pushing hard against you, he shoved you forward till you folded over against the railing, his body pressed tightly against yours. Forcing your hands to grip the rail.

"Remember your grip." he teased, releasing his hold. His hands slid slowly down your sides, thumbs hooking into the band of your shorts to tug them and your panties down to your ankles. You gasped being exposed like this, the adrenaline of being caught coursing through your blood, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

He kicked your feet apart, having your legs spread till you could feel the resistance of your shorts tight around your ankles. He took your hips in his hands, bringing your ass against him again, "Remember your stance." the words going straight to your center as he nipped at your ear.

His hands disappeared, and you let out a whine from losing his touch. He shuffled behind you, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to place soft kisses on your pulse point. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and feeling the muscles quiver under his fingers, you paused to consider what you were doing, your mind telling you that this was wrong. You'd get caught, and you'd be a disappointment to your parents. The thoughts of calling it off stopped when two fingers slid inside your warmth. His fingers scissored open and closed, swirling around before opening and closing again, stretching your walls with expert skills.

"So tight." He continued to whisper dark and dirty words as his fingers buried into you to the knuckle. The rough pressure pushes you forward and off your heels. Feeling your release boiling just under the surface, you start to grind down on his fingers as they thrust up into you, whimpering for more. You have started to lean over the rail, seeing the field's dirt and glancing down more to see both your feet and his. His pants at his ankles like yours, and the thought that his cock was out and ready for you, made you moan.

He wraps his hand around your hair, still pulled into a ponytail under your cap; rolling the strands around his hand, tugging you back so his chest is pressed tight to your back, fingers still buried deep inside you.

"Say the word, and I'll stop."

Past the point of no return, you moan, rolling your hips into his hands, still chasing your release. He presses his face into your cheek, nose running through the hairline above your ear as he inhales your scent; it's feral, it's animalistic, it's so fucking hot. His lips press into your ear, and you feel his hot breath against her skin. "You gonna come for me, tiger?"

You barely managed to nod your head before he curled his fingers, pressing on that soft spot inside you, making your walls clench around his fingers. He lets out a strangled sound of approval and surprise, taking the slick of your orgasm to rub on his erection. His left hand cupped your ass before delivering a harsh slap to the skin, making you rock up onto your toes.

He slides his length between your thighs, coating the head in everything left of your orgasm. Muscles in his chest are tight with anticipation and what you hope is desire. "Listen carefully, tiger," his voice breathless as he pants in your ear. "This is the only time I want you on your toes for me. Got it."

"Yes, coach." you gasp as his length slides into your warm center. He pumps slowly as you stretch around him, the hiss from your lips echoing across the field through the rain. "F-f-fuck." you moan.

Bottoming out with hard thrusts, Coach's hands rested on the railing on top of yours, his fingers lacing between yours as he held you and the rail in a vice grip. Your bodies molded into each other so well you felt the hem of his jersey wrap around your thighs; god, if only you could take it home with you as a trophy for this.

"I should stop," he was panting, his voice strained. "I'm gonna get fired."

"Please," you begged, turning your head to see his beautiful flushed face, mouth agape, tufts of his black hair sticking out from under his cap. "I won't say anything, just please don't stop."

"Fuck." he groaned, continuing to thrust into you, the force pushing you practically over the rail still on your toes, the muscles in your calves straining. Your thighs shook, the rain coming to an end as another tight coil wrapped itself in your belly, ready to snap.

"One more, give me one more, tiger," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. The scream as you clenched around him echoed off the field, causing him to clasp a hand over your mouth. "That's it. Scream for me."

Your noises were muffled by his hand on your mouth, and the hot breath as he panted on your cheek brought another orgasm on the wave of the first. One final snap of his hips and warm ropes filled your body, and all the tension of his muscles was released in one minute.

The magic of whatever you two did was gone when he pulled his softened cock from you, reaching down to pull up your shorts and letting you get them back on the rest of the way; you barely turned around, seeing him taking a little bounce to get back into his jeans.

"Head out, tiger. I'll see you at tomorrow's practice."

You nod briefly, grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and bat in the other hand. Just as you are about to leave the field, you turn around to see Coach sitting on the bench in the dugout, hands running through his sweaty black hair.

"Coach?" you let the rasp fall off your tongue, and he turns to look your way. "Extra practice tomorrow night?" giving a wink to let him know what you mean. He doesn't skip a beat, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It'll be a late practice. You game?"

"Anything for you, coach." you leave the comment in the air as you walk back to your dorm.

Crashing into your dorm with shaky legs, you throw down your gear.

"Whoa." Rachel commented, "You look brutal!"

"Thanks," you meekly respond, flopping onto the bed before curling up under the blanket.

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?" you mumbled, feeling your eyelids start to get heavy.

"Coach. You look like he had you do suicides for leaving the field?"

"Nothing gets past you, Rach." you smiled as your body drifted to sleep.

Several months later, and one game win thanks to you and a home run hit, Coach Cerulli announced his retirement. Disappointed but not surprised you accepted the new coach with open arms. She was sweet and spicy, a good coach, making your focus back on the game. The rumors were Coach moved states, you’d had his number but the digits disconnected a few weeks after his departure.

Just as well, you thought.

It was almost winter break, and a final due in Psychology had kept you up most nights, your body riddled with tension from the stress. 10 p.m., and you hadn't even bothered to try and sleep yet, your phone buzzed with a new text. Opening it up, it was a number you didn't recognize, but the message was clear.

How you been, tiger?

#miw band #miw #chris motionless #chris motionless imagines #chris motionless smut #chris cerulli #motionless au

138 notes · View notes

hyperfixated-fan · 12 days

Text

I have some semi-coherent thoughts now. I want to specifically analyze that final scene and why that in particular had me bursting into tears. (I still can’t watch it without tearing up.) I use the term “analyze” loosely and really mean stick around and listen to me emotionally ramble.

FIRST of all, they hit us with grown up Omega, which automatically hits you in the feels because this is the naive, bright-eyed child we’ve watched be amazed by dirt now getting ready to head off and fight in the Rebellion.

Then, they hit us with her exchange with old man Hunter. We got that bittersweet ending in the best way possible.

This is the payoff. The Bad Batch has raised her well. She has grown up into the type of person who sees the injustices in the galaxy and wants to do something about it. It’s time for her to take up a cause and fight.

Hunter’s response. “And we want to keep you safe.”

Omega: “You have. But I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Hunter: “You’re our kid, Omega. You always will be.”

Admittedly, this exchange here hit me deep on a personal level as someone who’s going to be moving out very soon. It’s time to grow up and I want to do this to step into who I am meant to be. But I also know in my parent’s eyes, I’ll always be there little child. And that both warms and breaks my heart just as it does theirs.

My personal life aside, from a storyline perspective, it is adorable how Omega reassures Hunter that they have kept her safe. I mean, just look at her! Look at the bright young person you’ve managed to raise, Hunter. The father genes are strong in this one.

Omega tells him: “Hunter, you’ve all fought enough.”

This in it of itself is heartbreaking. The clones have all fought enough for a Republic that ultimately failed and discarded them. Clone Force 99 was fortunate to end up fighting for something worthwhile. For them, they fought for family and they ultimately won. And now, it is Hunter’s turn to lay down his arms to let the next generation take up the fight. And that stings because while he managed to eventually raise Omega in peace, he cannot fully shield her from having to bear the burden of war.

Honestly, I often think of Thrawn’s lines when talking to Hera and I think it’s applicable to Omega as well. “War is in your blood… You were forged by it.”

Here is Omega telling Hunter that it’s her fight. As a clone, it’s in her blood, in her genes, to fight. As a child raised on the tail end of the Clone Wars, it is her fight because she inherited it. As a person, it is her fight because she’s not one to stand aside while others are oppressed. Once again, a sign of how well-raised she is.

Hunter acknowledges Omega’s readiness, “I know you are… but I’m not.”

Oof. His admittance is a double edged sword. He knows she’s ready, he helped train her himself after all. It’s obvious he is so proud of her, but he doesn’t feel ready to let her go. Listening to his perspective really makes me tear up because it really gives insight on how my parents are handling my move. They don’t necessarily want to say goodbye but they are willing because they know I can accomplish what I set out to do.

THE HUG.

Yeah, I’m drowning in a sea of tears. This is so wholesome!

Before Omega boards her ship, Hunter is sure to tell her, “If you ever need us,

Omega need only say the word and you best believe her brothers are crossing the entire galaxy more than five times to be at her side.

And yeah, that makes me cry all the harder because I know my family will do the same.

And the goggles scene was such another bittersweet punch in the gut.

She’s definitely older than Tech was when he died, but the life she got to live on Pabu and what she’s going to do in the future is exactly why he sacrificed himself. She can live and live well. She’s forever going to be carrying a piece of him with her and carry on his legacy by utilizing the knowledge that he bestowed upon her. I’m definitely sobbing even harder. Tech girlies, I think denial is no longer an option.

Omega takes off in her ship and her theme swells in the background and it a scene of pure art and emotion. Batcher whines as she departs and I am so sad that Omega didn’t get to take Batcher with her because it parallels how I have to leave my fur babies behind!

The Bad Batch has showed us how change greatly affected everyone’s lives and how they learned to adapt to such changes. Yet, there was the constant that no matter what happened, family is still family and you can find a way to carry on to a brighter future.

Hunter’s final lines really get me, “It’s all right, girl. She’ll be fine.”

To me, I can almost take it as a message for myself. As the Bad Batch draws to a close and Omega steps into a new chapter, so must I. It’s rather daunting, but you know what, I’m gonna be fine and I’m gonna make it.

Whatever you are going through, just know you’re going to be fine as well.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #tbb hunter #clone trooper hunter #tbb omega #tbb tech #clone trooper tech

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animentality · 1 month

Note

Thoughts on this post?:

https://www.tumblr.com/animentality/64152073250/abc-newsman-proves-danger-of-allowing-transgender?source=share

thanks for reminding me to delete that post I made in literally 2013 when I was 15 because it doesn't reflect who I am as a person anymore.

is this supposed to be a gotcha?

are people supposed to be born woke?

I am amazed you managed to even find this post with like 6 notes, where I legitimately asked people for their opinion on the subject because I was unsure about it and I had certain taught biases that I hadn't learned to abandon yet.

it might amaze you to know that I once told a guy he'd make a great wife when he mentioned he liked cooking.

this was in 2012.

how cisheteronormative of me, right?

but you were all so woke in 2012, weren't you?

you never said anything that was not PC as a teenager.

you never told edgy jokes or said stupid offensive things.

you were born perfect, I'm sure.

it's not like I'm proud of the dumb stuff I said.

but I didn't start identifying as nonbinary until I was 18, and I didn't start identifying as trans until I was 21.

I was raised by an older mother, not a gen x er or a millennial, but a baby boomer, whose inherent biases still sometimes surface in me when I least expect it.

I was raised Catholic.

I had JUST STARTED PUBLIC SCHOOL, after spending literally 6 years in a fucking Catholic school.

I DIDNT UNDERSTAND transgender issues, nor did most people in 20 fucking 13.

how the fuck could I

my mom to this day doesn't know what the fuck nonbinary or trans are, and I identify as both.

how was I supposed to know?

I'd never even met anyone in the LGBT community at that point, nor had I realized I belonged there either.

I literally didn't even know I was pan at that point, or that I was nb/trans myself, or how I felt about most political topics.

that's why I ASKED.

and I said the wrong things. yeah, I did.

but no one had taught me the right words.

and in that post, no one bothered to explain it to me either.

I had to learn that over time.

and guess what?

I'm still not perfect now. I'm still going to make mistakes because times change, as they always do.

and all we can do is try and forgive people who are trying and doing their best, and remaining open minded to things they don't understand right from fucking birth.

but by all means, do search my history to your hearts content.

honestly, I kinda wanna see what dirt you find because this was an interesting look at the kinds of things I thought in 2013.

I can look back at myself and see how far I've come.

this post was interesting to read for me because it was wildly off mark, it misgendered trans women, and it lacked political, historical, and social understanding...

and so?

yeah?

it's offensive. it's bad.

and I didn't know any better.

but lol.

people learn things. people change their opinions.

if you people spend all your time digging up dirt and trying to cancel people for who they were, rather than who they are, or who they're trying to be... I have news for you.

your existence is pointless and your efforts are meaningless.

but I am flattered you did such a deep dive, anon.

please do find more and send them to me.

I'd like to know what other gotchas you can yank out of my ass.

I used to be on Facebook in 2011 before I deleted it in like 2013.

see if you can find anything there.

I used to write cringy poetry. it might be funny to read now.

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Text

The Dhampirs of the Sword Coast - Chapter 2

Part 2 of Astarion's daughter adventures and consequences of releasing 7000 vampires into the Underdark.

Alethaine and Theris are rescuing Tara and returning her to Gale. Both dhampirs aren't that smart as they think they are.

Read on AO3

Link for Part 1

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

The List of Chapters

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine Ancunin looks around the corner and sees the gang of smugglers playing cards. The whole room reeks of vomit, dirt, and cheap rum. The scent makes the young dhampir nauseous - cursed be her sharpened elven-vampiric senses!

“Aren’t you afraid someone will steal our possessions?” Theris whispers.

As they decided to look for the kidnapped cat, the dhampirs had to hide their traveling bags in a safe place. The tiefling didn’t have much stuff, meanwhile Alethaine felt almost naked, leaving her prized things behind.

“My sack is conjured with necrotic magic. If anyone dares touch my stuff, their pathetic hands will fall off!”

Theris gives Alethaine an accusing glance. “You could have warned me!”

Alethaine grabs their right horn.

“Did you touch anything, Theris? My books? My scrolls? The cleric’s ring I stole from the self-righteous bastard?!”

“You told me you hadn’t stolen from him! That you just insulted the poor man and were convicted for four months!”

“Yes! And after I’d been released, I got inside his place and stole the ring as compensation for my sufferings!” Alethaine lets Theris go. “Did you touch my things, devil?”

“Hey! Is someone there?” a bearded smuggler stands up from the table, spilling his bottle of rum.

“Fuck”, Theris drags Alethaine into the corner. “There are too many of them!”

“Eight. I counted.”

“Eight? It’s four times more than us!”

“Congratulations, Theris, you know the basics of math!”

Alethaines sits down behind the huge wooden crates and then checks if Theris’ horns aren’t visible to the smugglers. The room is lit with dim light but thanks to their darkvision, both the elf and the tiefling can see perfectly well.

“It’s a bad idea, Alethaine,” Theris grows serious. “The cat doesn’t cost that much! Well, unless it is a misfortunate friend who was permanently polymorphed. Or this cat owes this Gale guy money. Anyway, no one is paying a fortune for a pet! Besides, I don’t trust wizards.”

“Theris, my parents knew him in the past… He is an honest man!” Alethaine trails off. “Well, at least I was told so!”

“I am sorry, Alethaine, but WHEN did your parents know him?”

Alethaine counts the years, doing mental math. When was the Year of Three Ships Sailing? She has heard about that adventure numerous times. When her mother and father were kidnapped by mind flayers, got parasites in their brains, had to fight against the cultists, monsters, illithids and even a powerful vampire lord, her father’s master. Mother, Tiriel the Barbarian, could talk about those months for hours - recalling every small detail, every person she met back then, including her companions. As for Alethaine’s father, Astarion barely could tell anything coherent as if his mind hadn’t regained the ability to hold memories. The older Alethaine grew, the more often she noticed the dreamy look in her father's eyes when he talked about his first weeks of freedom.

Later she realized Astarion, probably, barely remembers the exact events happening to him because he was too busy falling for Tiriel. And even all those decades later her parents behave like love-struck adolescents. Alethaine used to take it for granted when she was younger but now she thinks her parents are very lucky to have each other. Be it a destiny or just a weird turn of events - doesn’t matter.

Tiriel the Barbarian and Astarion Ancunin are a perfect couple.

“Forty-five years ago”, Alethaine finally replies.

Theris curses.

“Uvuaz”

“For your information, I can speak Infernal.”

“Oh, really? Then I shouldn’t limit myself anymore. Alethaine, fourty-five years may be nothing for a fairy but it’s a hell of an amount of life for a human! I am sure the archwizard doesn’t remember knowing your parents! This cat isn’t worth the effort. I am out!”

A loud thump attracts the dhampirs’ attention.

“I swear! There is someone behind the crates!

“Shit”, Theris curses again.

A drunk bard wobbles to them, hugging his viola as if it was his dearest friend.

It probably is.

“Oh look!” Before the drunk manages to say anything else Alethaine raises her hand and whispers.

“Sleep”

The bard falls down, snoring loudly. The other smugglers pay little to no attention, too busy with drinking and playing cards.

“What are you doing?!”

Theris kneels in front of the smuggler and starts loosing the straps around his body.

“Theris, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“A-ha!” Theris releases the viola. “What a beauty, hope this awful drunk man treated you well” He caresses the instrument, then looks at Alethaine. “And what did you think I was doing?”

Alethaine spares Theris the details of her thinking process.

“Forget it.”

“Oh, so you do have a dirty mind, after all!”

“Who said I didn’t? Can you play it?”

Instead of answering, Theris kisses the viola. “Oh, we are going to sing the lewdest and the most scandalous songs together.”

Alethaine takes his response for the yes and looks at the smugglers. Three women, two men, three people who could be both or something else.

And then Alethaine sees the cat.

The brown pet has been locked in a parrot cage in the opposite corner of the room. The cat is fast asleep on her back and for a moment Alethaine thinks the animal is dead but then she hears its heartbeat.

Alethaine doesn’t have any desire to fight the smugglers. She just needs to take the cat - and then run from this wretched hole of a place.

“Theris, I need you to be the bard.”

“Oh, my cousin, I thought you would never ask.”

“Just … distract them! Do your worst! I'll take the cat and we’ll flee back to the city.”

“Alethaine, let’s be clear. You want me to play something merry or, you know, be the bard?” Theris takes out the viola bow and brushes along their inner thigh.

Alethaine suppresses the urge to shove the bow up to their ass.

“Just distract them! Women, men, I don’t care! Whoever you prefer.”

Theris raises the bow as if it were a sword and settles the viola on his shoulder.

“Aletaine, I am pansexual. Everyone is in danger!” With these words, Theris jumps over the crates and leaps onto the smugglers’ table, making a little dance.

The smugglers stare at him in shock, like being splashed by a bucket of water. They reach out for their weapons but before they manage to attack Theris starts playing.

It’s something cheerful like a pirate song - a strong melody that attracts the attention of all the smugglers. Theris plays the viola with their eyes closed, completely taken away by the act.

Alethaine is struck with the realization that Theris is truly talented.

Theris’ lips are moving in time with the music. The tiefling taps his feet and his tail violently wags.

And then the dhampir sings.

Their voice is deep and strong, and he masterfully combines couplets in Common with Iluskani rhymes, weaving the song like a spell. He sings of peasants fighting with guardians, of fair maidens casting spells on men. Of the Trackless Sea and its cruel wonders, of blazing Hells and devils, of Feys and Feywild.

Alethaine has to concentrate to distract herself from the music. She is sneaking in the dim light, carefully measuring her every step, approaching the cat locked in the cage.

And the creature is anything but a cat. It opens its eyes feeling Alethaine’s presence, unfolds its bird wings and yawns demonstrating sharp fangs.

“You are a Tressym!” Alethaine gasps.

“I am very well aware of what I am,” the Tressym says. “My name is Tara. And who might you be, etriel?”

“A-Alethaine”

“Hm… An unusual name for Tel’Quessira but I can see that you are an elf to the same measure I am a cat. An understatement, am I right, etriel?”

“Your owner… sent us… sort of”

“Owner? Etriel, Gale is not my owner. Tressyms know no masters,” the Tara turns her head. “And I suppose the performer is a companion of yours? He has a talent, I must admit, etriel. But I’d suggest we don’t lose any more time. Do you have something to pick the lock?”

Alethaine takes out her Burglar's Pack from the hidden pocket of her jacket. The first lockpick breaks immediately.

And the second. And the third.

“Hurry up, etriel, I think the power of art is sobering them up.”

“Why do you keep calling me like that? I am not an elven nobility.”

“I am not aware of your social status and preferences,” Tara says.”But I assumed it would be correct to call a woman of your kind etriel.”

“Fuck, I am out of lockpicks!” Alethaine curses. “Damn”

“What is that girl doing there!” a smuggler bellows.

“I am sorry, Tara” Alethaine uses all her dhampir strength to pull the parrot cage. Both the chain and the hook break immediately. The dhampir grabs the small door and breaks it down.

Tara crawls out and settles herself in Alethaine’s arms. The Tressym is so fluffy the dhampir wants to squeeze her.

“We need to go!” Theris yells, snatching a dagger. “Thank you for listening, my dear audience! I take cash, thank you!”

“Did you fucking see it? She broke the cell like it was made of paper!”

“She probably used some potions”

“Etriel”, Tara asks. “Any chance you know the FLY spell?:”

“Nope”

“Pity. I am afraid I won’t be able to enjoy freedom for very long.”

Alethaine looks up. The wooden ceiling is pretty high, probably ten feet above the ground. Unless there is a troll or a giant on their side…

“Theris, climb up!” Alethaine yells on top of her lungs and steps on the wall, quickly rising up to the ceiling.

The world turns upside down. Her hair brushes along her body as if having its own gravity.

“It’s a vampire! Fuck!” the smugglers scream. Theris pushes one of them aside, jumps up and Alethaine grabs his right hand, pulling the tiefling to her.

“Oh, etriel, you are a dhampir. That’s very convenient.”

The smugglers snatch their daggers and swords.

“Catch her!”

“Bring the fire!”

Alethaine sprints. She hears loud voices and steps behind her but she doesn’t pay much attention to them.

“Oh, that’s the cat!” Theris points at Tara.

“It’s a Tressym!”

An arrow switches right in front of Alethaine’s face. Then another one scratches Theris’ tail.

The elf jumps on the floor and pushes the crates to block the passage. Theris almost bumps into them, failing to predict Alethaine’s action.

The narrow hallway leads outside - Theris breaks out of the old shabby door with his leg, landing on an unfortunate sentry who has been standing right there.

“We need to part!” Alethaine yells, pushing the tiefling sideway.

“Yes, children, I shall meet you in the tower! Worry not, you are very welcome there”, Tara unfolds her bird wings and soars up.

It’s much more difficult to run along the street - the paving stones hurt their feet, she keeps bumping into the crowd, almost steps on a gnome, and has a bruise after an encounter with a half-ork’s elbow.

Cursed be her short height.

As Alethaine gets closer to the center of the city people in the crowd get more civilized and fewer in number. The elf slows down, hoping to play “a maiden in distress” in case the smuggler hasn’t lost her track.

But no one is following.

Alethaine leans on a wall. Her strength quickly recovers and she feels capable enough to run another sprint through the city, but her legs hurt and her head is dizzy.

She needs to find the archwizard. Instead of any coherent address, it simply says “The wizard’s tower” as if that was enough.

Well, the wizard towers must reek with magic.

“Detect magic” is a simple skill, even non-mages can do it. But it requires concentration which has never been Alethaine’s strong side.

And besides, Waterdeep has many magical places.

Alethaine wanders around a bit, trying to sense the presence of magic. Once or twice she catches the trail like a cat looking for food but she quickly loses it.

A strong tap on a shoulder startles her so much she snatches the dagger out of her boot, ready to gouge out an eye of whoever is behind her.

“Fuck!” Theris takes Alethaine by her wrist. “I have only two eyes, you know? And I value them both!”

“Nine hells! Theris, I have weak nerves, but I'm good with daggers! Next time, you'll be left with either no tail or no eye.Or both!”

“And what about asking ‘who is there’? What if it’s your favorite cousin!”

“It’s much safer to slice a throat than ask what they want.”

“You are a dangerous woman.”

“I am!”

Theris contemplates a bit and then asks. “So… What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am flattered you waited for me but I was sure you would go get your reward”

“I haven’t found the tower”

Theris looks at her dead serious and then bursts out laughing.

“What? I’ve never been to Waterdeep before!”

“Which part of the freaking-highest-wizard-tower-in-the-whole-city part you didn’t understand?” Theris finally blurts out.

Alethaine turns her head where Theris points.

The wizard’s tower is on the other side of the street.

“You are going to die without me, Alethaine,” Theris says.

“I’ve been doing fine. Relatively.”

They cross the road. The wizard’s tower doesn’t look particularly intimidating - just a tower. It could belong to a local guild or a lower nobility.

The Tressym is nowhere to be seen.

“Is it dumb to get there empty-handed? Of course, it is,” Theris contemplates the closed door. He knocks a few times but even their dhampiric hearing doesn’t catch any sound. “I suppose no one is home. We needed to tie that cat up. Now we won’t be able to prove we’ve saved her in the first place!”

Alethaine looks around, hoping no one sees her and steps on the wall using her Spider Climb.

“What are you doing? There are so many protective runes that we could be turned into dust! Feydust, I hope, but still.”

“Come on! I see the open window!”

“Alethaine! I am not feeling comfortable breaking into the wizard’s tower!”

“Good! More money left for me!” Alethaine sits down at the windowsill.

She looks inside and see a huge hall with the floor somewhere far beneath

A library.

She can see thousands of colorful volumes. They stand in neat rows begging to be taken and read.

And there is so much magic in them Alethaine doesn’t need to concentrate to feel it.

The young dhampir has never seen so many books in one place. Moreover, she has never seen so many enchanted folios.

Something inside her stirs. Knowledge. Wisdom.

Alethaine has never truly learned using skills. She was born like this with skills for necromancy and just a bit of fey magic thanks to her ancestry. It all comes to her naturally without needing much thought.

But as with any magic, her potential craves to develop, to grow.

It’s a literal hunger.

Alethaine steps on the walls and goes up to the ceiling. The library is empty but she senses a few protective spells mostly on shelves. Pity. Whatever a person Gale Dekarios is, he will hardly allow her to touch any of his priceless books.

With loud panting, Theris gets inside the library.

“Oh great. The magic library. Every book must be cursed. If this blasted cat doesn’t show up, I am out!”

"It's a Tressym."

"I don't fucking care! I don't want to be turned into a sheep!"

A soft cough from beneath attracts their attention.

An old man in a violet robe goes inside the library with the sleeping tresuum in his hands. The wizard has a short white beard and shoulder length hair. He has neither a wizard hat nor a staff to turn the intruders into sheep.

"Young people, I would terribly appreciate it if you climbed down from my ceiling so we could talk like civilized people. My name is Gale Dekarios” he waves. “And whom do I have the honor of meeting?"

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #dadstarion #aletha #alethaine ancunin #dhampir #waterdeep #dhampirs of the sword's coast #meet the dhampirs #baldur's gate post game #dungeons and dragons #forgotten realms #necromancy #dhampirs of the swords coast

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mistiell · 2 years

Text

Strange Love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Healer! Reader

Summary: You run a secret clinic out of your home in the woods that surround Duva, meant mostly for Grisha fleeing Ravka. Your house has become a sort of safe house, one that very few know the location of. You’ve helped dozens of families flee the country over the years, but when the Black General find out what you’re up to, you find yourself in a very... unusual situation.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, brief mention of blood, Darkling might be a tiny bit ooc but idrk, sort of one sided enemies to lovers

A/N: I’m planning to make this a series, but I can’t promise regular updates bc I am shit at committing to literally anything lmao. It also depends on how y’all like this concept, so feedback would be very much appreciated!

Word Count: 2.7k

Current > Part 2

You’ve always tried to be an empathetic person.

Your mother, a healer like yourself, had taught you from an early age that every living thing deserves kindness, even when it might not seem that way. She ran a clinic out of your home, though for some odd reason, she forbid you from telling anyone about it. It confused you when you were young — wouldn’t telling people about it help her business grow? — but as you got older, you grew to understand what it was she really did.

It wasn’t a business at all. She had turned your home into a safe place for those who were fleeing the war. It was mostly families with grisha in the family that were either too young, too old, or too sick to fight. She was always so kind, so willing to help. When she passed, you vowed to do the same.

You converted the attic into a spare bedroom, a decent double bed against one wall and a couple of spare cots tucked against the other. You even added a small bookshelf with a handful of titles to make it seem a little more homey. You started offering the families that came to you later in the evening a safe place to rest before continuing on their journey towards the Fold. You aren’t sure how many actually make it through, but you don’t like to dwell on it much.

You’re restocking the pantry when there’s an urgent knock on your door, something you’ve grown used to over the years. You quickly make your way to the door and when you open it, you’re met with three worn looking faces.

“Are you Y/n?” The man asks, sounding just as tired as he looks. He’s got a cut on his forehead and dirt smeared over the right side of his face.

“Who sent you?” You ask calmly. You have a friend at the inn in town who keeps a look out for people who may need your help. You always ask to make sure it was her who sent them.

“Klara.” He replies. You smile and step out of the way to let them inside.

You come to find the man’s name is Rolan, the two travelling with him are his wife and daughter, Nika and Zarya.

“Where are you three headed?” You ask, gently wiping away the dirt around Rolan’s wound.

“Kerch, hopefully.” Nika states, watching you work carefully, “We aren’t keen on staying in Ravka.”

“Nika.” Her husband’s tone is one of warning, one that says ‘change the subject or stop talking’.

“It’s alright.” You assure, setting the now dirtied cloth in the bowl and turn to them with a smile that puts them at ease, “Whatever you say here stays within these walls.”

“I’m grisha.” Zarya blurts, voice small and shaky. The girl can’t be more than thirteen. You see the tears welling up in her eyes and your heart breaks a little for her. Based on how guilty she looks, you deduce that her parents aren’t.

“What kind?” You ask carefully.

“A healer.” She states, trying to wipe away her tears discreetly while her mother pulls her into a side hug.

“That’s one of the best to be.” You smile at her, setting about using your small science to heal her father’s head wound. Your answer would have been the same no matter what she said, but her being a healer makes consoling her a bit easier, “You have the power to help people. Just like this,” You glance over at her to see her watching you with fascination, “See? Not so scary.”

She smiles at you and you smile back.

Once you’re sure they’re all healed, you offer them something to eat and drink. Just as they finish, someone bangs on the door. It startles you all. You’re quick to reassure them that everything’s alright, but you really aren’t sure yourself. You make your way out of the small dining room and towards the front door. Standing behind it and listening through the wood, you pick up four heartbeats.

“Open up! We know you’re in there!” Your blood runs cold as the person pounds on the door again.

You rush back to the dining room, startling the family when you appear in the doorway, “You need to leave. Grab your things.”

“What? I don’t understa—.”

“There’s no time! Grab your bags!” You whisper yell and they scramble up from the table. You help them collect their belongings in record timing before ushering them towards the back door, “Listen to me carefully. When you leave, you cannot come back here. There’s a trail about a mile west of here that will take you back to the village. Go straight to the inn and tell Klara I sent you. She’ll let you stay for the night but you need to be gone as soon as possible, alright?”

“Alright.” Rolan nods, turning to leave with his family before adding, “Thank you. Truly.”

You nod and rush back to the front door once they’ve left. You pull it open, trying to look as casual as possible, though when you spot two heartrenders amongst the four people you’d heard earlier, you realize it won’t matter. They’ll be able to hear your racing heart just as well as you can hear theirs.

“Are you Y/n L/n?” Your attention turns to the squaller in front of you.

“Depends. Who’s asking?” You chance a glance behind her to see who you’d be up against if you fought back. Two heartrenders, one inferni, and one squaller.

You’re fucked.

“General Kirigan.” Your heart drops to your stomach. Saints, you’re really fucked.

“What does he want with me?” You ask, voice steady.

“We’ve had reports of someone assisting in smuggling Grisha across the Fold.” She states cooly, gaze cold and unwavering, “We have reason to believe that our culprit is you.”

You try to think of a way out of this situation. You definitely can’t run passed her. You could try to flee through the back door but really, where would that get you? You can’t take your usual escape route seeing as you had sent that family down it. You’ll be damned if you get them caught. You could flee through the woods, but do you really want to chance getting lost?

Well, you suppose getting lost is better than facing the wrath of the Black General.

Before you have a chance to overthink it, you grab the woman by the front of her kefta and punch her in the nose as hard as physically possible. You shove her backwards, sending her sprawling against the dirt, and take off towards the back of your home, hearing her shout at the others to follow you.

You make it out the back door and start sprinting through the woods, the wind lashing at your cheeks and biting at your forearms where your sleeves are still rolled up. You can hear them getting closer, shouting at you and one another. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, beating fast and hard.

Until it slows drastically. So drastically that it has you gasping and tripping over your own feet, scraping your face and palms against the ground. The world spins and spots dance across your vision. You try to fight against it, pressing your hands together and trying to raise your heart rate again. You manage to make it back onto your feet, stumbling and using the trees around you to keep yourself upright. You turn and lock eyes with one of the heartrenders, the one that’s currently trying to put you to sleep. He looks surprised and a little horrified by the fact that you’re still standing and you smirk at him, mimicking the position of his hands. You focus on a specific part of his brain, making it release a chemical you know will make him tired while lowering his heart rate and slowing his breathing all at once. He falls to the ground in seconds.

You breathe in a breath of relief as his hold on your body is broken, though it’s short lived. The other heartrender takes his place, knocking the wind out of your lungs and forcing you to the ground. You blink your eyes slowly, gasping as you watch a pair of boots enter your line of sight. The person rolls you over and you find yourself looking up at the squaller. There’s a fair amount of blood trickling from her nose and you note that she looks royally pissed off.

“Fuck you.” It’s slurred and really doesn’t help you, but it feels good watching her face screw up into a scowl.

“Finish the job, Ivan.” The heartrender that’s still standing steps forward and before you can even begin to protest, consciousness slips from your grasp.

—

You aren't sure how much time has passed when you wake, but your head is pounding and your mouth is dry. With a groan, you roll onto your back and press a hand to your head, startling when your other smacks you in the forehead. You peel your eyes open and when your hands finally come into focus, you realize you're in shackles, a metal bar separating your hands to prevent you from using your small science. It's then that your memory returns to you and the panic starts to set in.

You sit up with a gasp, scooting back—despite how much your palms sting—to lean against the wall as you take in your surroundings. The cell you're in is cold, the stone walls and dirt floor doing absolutely nothing to insulate the room. There's a long corridor beyond the bars with more cells on either wall, though they're all empty. There's a large wooden door at the other end of the hall, you assume that's the only way in or out.

You shiver, pulling your knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You attempt to touch your hands together so you can at least warm yourself up, but to no avail. After failing for the fifth time, you huff, wiping away the tears of frustration that have gathered on your waterline.

The heavy door you had noted earlier swings open with a bang, startling you beyond belief. Your eyes blow wide at the sight of the man practically stalking towards you. From the solid black shade of his kefta, you know that this is the infamous General Kirigan. You can’t read his expression, but you’re sure he can’t be happy. One of the heartrenders that had captured you—Ivan, you think his name is—accompanies him. It isn’t long before he reaches your cell, looming over you from your place on the floor.

“So, you’re the woman that’s been smuggling Grisha out of Ravka.” His voice is smooth and confident as he watches you glare at him.

“I have done no such thing.” You state firmly, watching him quirk a brow at you, “I run a clinic. I treat patients and let them stay when needed. What they do after they leave my home is none of my business.”

He’s silent for a moment. He seems to be analyzing you and you wish you knew what was going on in his head.

“I heard you put up quite the fight,” He starts and you wonder where he’s going with this, “You broke Zoya’s nose.”

“So that’s her name.” You smile passive aggressively, “I would apologize, but I’m not one to lie.”

He stares at you curiously. You squirm a bit under the intensity of his gaze, but you don’t seem scared, “You also managed to overpower one of my Oprichnik. The heartrender. Do you remember?”

“The one that tried to sedate me? Yes, I remember.” You huff, glancing away from him, “Listen, if you’re going to kill me, you might as well get it over with.” He huffs a small laugh at your words. It feels a little condescending, even more so when he looks at you with mild amusement.

“I’m not going to kill you, miss L/n. You,” he looks you up and down, “Intrigue me.”

“You’re keeping me alive because I’m interesting?” You scoff and stare at him incredulously, word saturated with sarcasm, “Oh, you really are so generous, General Kirigan.” You shake your head with a wry laugh, “If you aren’t going to kill me, what are you going to do with me?”

He looks to Ivan and jerks his head toward the door to your cell. You watch as the heartrender unlocks and opens it.

“I plan to make you an Oprichnik.”

“You what?” You gawk at him as Ivan pulls you up from the floor. This has to be some kind of fever dream. He must be lying. Maybe he’s planning to make an example of you. Maybe he’s misleading you so you’ll go with him willingly, “Why?”

“I don’t believe I owe you an explanation.” Like hell he doesn’t, “All you need to know right now is that you’ll be staying here awhile.”

“Where exactly is here?” You ask as Ivan takes your arm and begins leading you down the hall, the General falling into line a few paces ahead of you.

“The Little Palace.” Your eyes damn near fall out of your skull. You must have been asleep for days if they transported you all the way from Duva to Os Alta.

They lead you up a spiral staircase and down several hallways. You can’t help but admire the interior design of the place as you go. You’ve heard stories of the Little Palace but you realize now that they’re either grossly exaggerated or don’t do it justice. Whoever designed it has impeccable taste

As you pass people in the halls, they whisper amongst themselves. You make a point of glowering at them until they look away. You don’t intend to be here for long, but you find a bit of amusement watching them squirm under your gaze. You can only imagine the rumours that have formed in the time you’ve been unconscious.

Eventually, you come to a large set of doors with flowers and vines carved into the wood, a theme that seems to be common throughout the whole place. When the General pushes them open, you find yourself walking down yet another hallway, though this one has doors lining either side. He stops you at the fifth door to the right, unlocking the door with a small key and pushing it open. Ivan practically shoves you through the doorway and you shoot him a deadly look, though he seems unfazed. You turn your attention back to the room and find it is nothing like you were expecting.

It’s a fair size, a single bed pressed up against the far wall. There’s a small dresser that doubles as a bedside table against the wall to your left and a bare desk to your right. Just byond the desk, there's a door that leads to what you can only assume is a bathroom. One that you pray has a shower considering the dirt and grime that cakes your arms and face.

“This will be your dormitory.” You startle, and when you turn to look at him you realize Ivan is no longer next to him. You stare at him like he’s gone mad. This has to be some kind of cruel joke, “You’ll find your kefta in the top drawer of your dresser. You’ll be expected in the anatomy room at eight bells tomorrow morning. Until then, you’re free to explore the palace.”

“You’re fucking with me.” You blurt, immediately regretting the words the second they leave your mouth.

He laughs, and for a moment he feels human, “I assure you, miss L/n. I am not ‘fucking with you’, as you so eloquently put it.”

He reaches out to give you the key and you glance between him and the object nervously before taking it from him. You push aside the fact that he just swore in favour of asking, “Then why are you being so… nice?”

“Despite what you may have heard, I am not a monster.” A large part of you doesn’t believe him, sensing he has some ulterior motive for keeping you alive, “I know you don’t believe me, which is fair considering the circumstances.” Saints, can he read minds now? “But I assure you, as long as you do as you’re told, no harm will come to you. Understood?”

In other words, he’ll keep you alive as long as you don’t become a problem. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you nod, “Yes, General.”

“Good.” He nods back, “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything from me, find Ivan or Fedyor. They’ll know where to find me.”

You have no idea who Fedyor is, but you nod nonetheless before he closes your door, leaving you alone in a deafening silence. Dropping the key into a little ceramic dish on top of your dresser, you flop down onto the bed, the mattress firmer than the one you have at home. You sigh, rolling over onto your back with an arm thrown over your eyes.

How the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?

#aleksander kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling fanfic #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #the darkling x reader #the darkling

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archetypal-archivist · 4 months

Note

hey man, i've been following u for a while but i saw your comment and dude.. bringing up the age of consent means jackshit man. it isnt a cultural difference, if brazilians ( the ones who were literally the first people who brought it up ! and translated everything ! ) say its weird and wrong, then it's weird. you don't have to defend forever, put your morals before your entertainment.

Okay first: I don't agree with pedophilia and regardless of age of consent, going out with younger people when certain age gaps and power dynamics are at play is a scummy thing to do. I'll agree with you on this and I'll ask that you read the entirety of this post explaining why else I commented before you start metaphorically stabbing me.

Second: My reason for bringing up age of consent is not to excuse what he's done, not in the least. The reason I am is because there's a nonzero chance that there's cultural shit at play and as a white person from the USA, I don't know enough about the situation to say anything for sure. For example, in Japan it's very common for women to be sexually assaulted in trains- some statistics put that number higher than 20%. It's not excused there, people there hate it as much as people here. However, when numbers are that high, one does have to wonder what percentage of the population assumes that it is okay. What percentage assumes that yes it's scummy, but it's also to be expected. In Japan, while there are laws against sexual assault, the chances of anything being done about it are... not always promising.

Obviously sexual assault is not okay. Obviously the people who do it are in the wrong. I am not excusing this behavior, nor should it be normalized. However, the fact remains that there are cultural norms that may be at play here and those norms may dictate to some people that it is okay. Even if it's not. (Think about how many entitled dude bros are in the US who think commenting on a woman's bust size is okay, or think it's normal for a husband to physically punish his wife.)

The fact here is that whether or not Forever went out with an underage fan, so long as the fan was over the age of 14, it was not technically illegal. And as such, there may be cultural norms in some locations that make a young 20-something think going out with a 14 or 15 year old is okay. Is it a good thing to do from a moral standpoint? Absolutely not. But until I know what percentage of 14-15 year olds in Brazil date/get hit on by older men or someone from Brazil can fill me in, I don't have enough information to know if Forever's going out with this person was to do so with scummy intentions. It's a scummy action sure, and people are welcome to dislike it. But I want to know the degree of scummy before I make a personal decision, you know?

There's a difference between peer pressure + not knowing better and going out with intent. One of which will make me distance myself from the situation until he makes an apology, the other makes me start deleting old work with him in it. Regardless, until there is more work from Forever in making up and apologizing for his past actions, I will not be supporting him.

Third reason: The person who's dragged up all those old tweets is apparently an anti and has spent a lot of their time trying to dig up dirt on the Brazilians. There's a logical fallacy regarding disbelieving a source simply because you don't like them, but there's also something to be said about believing someone on the internet wholeheartedly regarding context and what they think was going on when you don't know the person and they have reason to be biased. Again, I want to know. And I want other people to fill me in and for other people to have information so they too can be filled in. I'll be doing my own research too of course, but again, I'm not from Brazil nor do I speak Portuguese.

As such, I'll close this post with this: If you are from Brazil, can you weigh in with your takes on the situation and the cultural norms regarding the age of consent in Brazil? Also, if you are not from Brazil and/or you also think you may be missing something about this whole situation, feel free to sit in the corner with me while we watch this shitshow and hope for more info. Just- don't go attacking people. Please.

I'd rather not get an outpouring of hate in my inbox.

#qsmp #forever player #forever discourse #discourse #forever situation

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larissa-the-scribe · 7 months

Text

Terrarium Lights

Part 1 of 3 for @inklings-challenge

An older lady befriends and adopts a ghost she found in her garden

Next part >>here

Michael Goffrey bid his wife farewell as he left for his next shipping job, and Gail Goffrey was once again faced with the fact that her house was cavernously empty.

She had expected the house to feel empty after her children grew up and moved on with their lives; that was the sort of thing one always heard about from the mothers and wives left behind. However, everyone seemed to stress the loneliness—not the rather more intense boredom.

Gail had always preferred quiet and alone time, so she did not take issue with the solitude. However, though she still had to cook and mend and clean and tidy and all the other tasks, it was one thing to do so for six people and quite another, shorter thing to do so for two. It was even less of a thing to do so for one, since Michael had been promoted to first mate and now had to accompany the airships personally, no longer simply loading and unloading at the cloudends as he once did.

Empty and meaningless. That’s what it felt like. With her family, she had people to help and care for. With just herself, she felt as though she were wasting time walking in circles for no other purpose than to exist.

She made it to the second day without any significant issue.

She was out tending to the herb garden when it happened—a bug wandered in front of her. That shouldn’t have been a problem. Bugs were some of her favorite creatures. But after the first smile, it hit her that she hadn't seen a new kind of one in months—this one already had three sketches in her notebook.

She’d run out of garden bugs to document.

Bugs, of all things. Bugs were everywhere, bugs had never-ending variations, bugs were constant. And she’d run out of them.

Stabbing the trowel into the earth perilously close to the offending bug, she sat back on her heels and looked up at the sky.

"Well, Lord, I reckon you put me on your good Earth for a reason. And I don't think it was just to sketch bugs." She smoothed her apron out, flicking bits of dirt off of it. "I also doubt I'm done with what I'm supposed to do down here, otherwise I wouldn't be here. But if you don't mind me saying, I'm awfully bored of where I am, though I do love my house and my husband and my town quite fierce. But I have all the time in the world, and I'd like to do good with it, if I could. So if you could show me what to do where I can—give me eyes to see as who I can do good towards—then I would appreciate it mightily."

Gail had prayed similar prayers before, with varying regularity. She knew the good Lord had heard her, as he always did. And if he answered with more solitude and time and boredom, then she supposed that was where she was meant to be for the moment. But she dearly hoped there might be something new this time.

So, really, she shouldn't have been surprised to see someone under the loquat tree. But then again, it had been raining since before dawn, so no one in their right mind would have been outdoors. She should know, since she herself had been out gathering moss for terrariums and hadn't heard a breath from anyone all day, even near the city.

Her first impression was that the lad was quite young. Younger than her youngest, in fact, who had not too long ago started her career as a professor at the nearby university. Looked perhaps like he could be one of her students. Very slight of build, as though he needed to eat more, and small looking as he sat hunched in the rain and letting the wet drip down his messy hair, full of loose ends that had gotten free from his ponytail.

Gail stood at the edge of her garden for a moment, resting her pail of moss against the stone border as she observed him.

He didn't move, just sat there with his face turned towards the soil, and didn't seem to see her. Part of his shoulder seemed stained, perhaps with mud. With the house not a few feet to the left, she wondered if he'd tried to knock and not gotten an answer, what with her out and about.

Well, unexpected or not, there was really only one thing to do.

Gripping her pail handle resolutely, Gail marched her way through the garden paths and stood in front of him. He shifted at the sound of her approach, turning his face up towards her—his eyes were pale, as if someone had sketched them on and not bothered with paint. What's more, up closer, the brownish stain on his shoulder looked rather like dried blood.

He tilted his head, as if trying to tell where the sound had come from.

"Well then," she said after a long moment of trying to figure out what to say, "who might you be?"

"Oh." He looked more directly at her, and somehow the eyes looked a bit more colored in, like they remembered they could be brown. "Dreadfully sorry, ma'am. I seem to have gotten lost in the rain. I hope you don't mind me taking a few moments here under your tree?"

He hadn't answered the question, but he seemed more surprised than shifty. "Not at all. Unpleasant weather to be lost in, for sure. If you'd like, you can wait it out under a roof."

"Oh," he said again, and looked to his left; this time it seemed like he understood what he was seeing. "I suppose that would be nicer."

"Well, you're welcome to my roof, if you’d like," she said. She wondered how long he would take her up on that.

He awkwardly stumbled to his feet before she could offer her hand. "That's very kind of you, ma'am."

"Would you like anything to eat?" She went ahead and led the way to the kitchen door.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Thank you ma’am, but I don't think I'm hungry."

She didn't think he would be, but, well, it wasn't like she had experience with this. Which concerned her—she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. At least he didn't seem to be wicked. She supposed he must need a helping hand and, while she needed to figure out what that help was, he was still just a boy; she would do him the courtesy of treating him accordingly.

The porch and floors, old and creaky since long before she and her husband and infant son had moved in decades ago, greeted them with typical fanfare as they trudged over the threshold. She dripped her way over to the stove, where she put the kettle on; it was unlikely that her visitor would want any, but she most certainly did. Setting her pail of moss by the stove to deal with later, she glanced back to see the lad standing in the middle of the space, staring up at the roof.

Gail wondered if he noticed that he wasn't wet.

"Say," she said, carefully pulling teacups out of the cupboard, "what did you say your name was?"

He looked at her sharply. "I… I don't think I did."

"Hmmmm. Well, how should I call you, then?"

He stared at her.

In the background, the rain continued on.

"Should I just call you ma'am, then?" He said, smiling faintly.

Gail squinted at him. "Now then, young man, are you dodging the question deliberately, or do you just not have an answer?"

"Oh." He glanced around the kitchen, then back to her, and blanked. "Sorry, what was the question?"

Gail rested back against the counter. She picked up her glasses from where she'd left them this morning, and stuck them on, pushing the temples through her sodden mess of hair. "I was just asking what your name was."

His eyes widened. "I… don't… Didn't I answer that?"

"Not as I can recall."

"That… that was rude of me, then, wasn't it?" His eyes were still wide, and the brown was fading.

Maybe it was rude of her to keep pressing the matter. He seemed not to know. Gail pressed her glasses firmer on her nose, trying to reach some kind of decision—but whatever was going on with her guest had been set in motion.

"What is my name?" He asked, his voice rising. "I can't remember my name."

"That's alright, dear," she said, trying to distract him, calm him down. "Do you remember where you were before my garden?"

It had the opposite effect.

He stepped back, towards the door, and glanced around with eyes that no longer understood where he was. "No… I-I can't remember… where am I? Do you know my name?"

"I'm afraid I—"

The kettle shrieked into the space between them with a rush of steam.

The lad cast a wild glance in its direction, stepped backwards. Gail, startled into motion, scrambled to shut the thing off.

When she turned back, the space where he had stood was dry and empty. She and the rain and her pail of terrarium moss had been left alone again.

#inklingschallenge #inklings 2023 #team lewis #genre: portal fantasy #theme: burial #theme: visiting the sick #story: finished #the santa juliana files #terrarium lights #original fiction #scribe does inklings #first draft

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