#it's been a journey (a wild and long and hard journey) but some of you have made me into someone for yourselves and that thought is not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovifie · 1 month

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Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

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W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

If you liked it please drop a comment or a reblog, it really helps me to want to write more 🩷

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bu-blegh-ost · 9 months

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The time has finally come, @girlsonlytreehouse !!!

Today I shall share with you the fruits of my work. But first, allow me to take you on a journey I myself have been through while counting all of this shit down.

First things first, I decided to count the rolls in the context of the characters rather than the people playing them, simply because the luck of the actual people could not be measured accurately if I only take Riptide into consideration (and also I thought it would be more fun). The guys have several different campaigns, some that I do not have access to, so I've decided to seperate all their Riptide rolls into characters they play instead, cause then we can clearly see which character is the luckiest. But ofc if you want this to be attributed differently, the data remains unchanged, so that way you all can interpret the results however you wanted and still have all the info you need on hand.

Another issue were the advantage/disadvantage rolls. When a character rolls at advantage, they roll twice and the only roll that counts is the one that was higher, while the other is discarded and the opposite goes for disadvantage. So for example if you roll at Disadvantage and you roll a nat 20 and a 2, that nat 20 technically doesn't matter. Despite that I decided to count each adv/disadv roll anyway, because despite the fact that it does not count, it was still physically ROLLED, which means it contributes to the character's overall pool of luck. I tried to separate them at first so you guys can make your own decision whether to add them or not, but in the end I decided against it cause it was insanely hard to keep up with. There were just too many and too often, which led me to believe that it was fair enough to count everything as long as they actually rolled a dice.

Which brings me to the last complication, which is of course Gillion's Prophetic Screwup. At the beginning of the campaign Gillion was able to exchange anything that he actually rolled into a nat 20, and in return the DM can change any roll he does afterwards into a nat 1. That way there was supposed to be an equal number of wild unrolled nat 20's and nat 1's to balance Gillion out back to 0, but it didn't turn out this way. In more cases than not, Grizzly would either forget or fail to find a good place to screw Gillion over, so the ability bacame much too unbalanced. So they changed it somwhere in the middle of Edison Kingdom Arc. From then on, if Gill rolled anything from 1-10 it would automatically become a nat 1, and if he rolled from 11-20, that'd be a nat 20 instead. Either way these rolls had nothing to do with luck, as he wasn't actually rolling anything, thus I decided not to count these 'artificial' nat 20's/1's. However I did keep track of them nonetheless and I'll still give you the number of those, just separately, and from then on you guys can make your own decision on whether or not you wish to count it.

OOOFFF ALRIGHT.

Without further ado, here are the nat 20's results (up to ep106):

Gillion: 52

Chip: 58

Jay: 55

Goobleck: 8

Surprised? Yeah I was as well. First things first I never expected this to be this close. And never in my right mind could I possibly predict that it would he CHIP of all people to have the highest score here. But I've seen it with my own eyes. And tell you what. Jay had this in the bag for most of the damn series. She would consistently roll good and always when you need a good roll the most. There were times when she would have such a massive lead it was unthinkable she could loose it. But then she would just kinda...stop rolling good for a bit and allow the other two to catch up. It just wasn't as visble if you don't pay much attention, but I thought it to be cute. It's as she was waiting for them <3 But she was still mostly leading. It was only the current arc that made Chip surpass her. After his terrible luck in Feywilde, he bounced back so strongly right after, that he managed to jump in front of the luck queen herself.

And now I bet you're curious about the other side of the coin. Give it up for natural 1's!:

Gillion: 55

Chip: 53

Jay: 52

Goobleck: 1

You see, I kind of expected it to be Gill, but I need you guys to know that this wasn't the case at all times. Jay? Yes. If there is one thing that's consistent is that she had the lowest amount of natural 1s at all times almost, but the person that was suffering from nat 1 curse for a long while was Chip. In the Feywilde Arc he would be so far ahead of everyone, that I was genuinely sure that there is no way anyone catches up to him. But then he popped off in the next arc with nat 20's and Gillion? Oh my gosh, Gillion didn't disappoint. I've never seen a man fail this much let me tell you XD He ended up with the least nat 20's as well, but I thought the difference would be much higher until he didn't roll 4 fucking nat 20s in ep 100 and then this double nat 20 attack roll in the Black Sea whduihdius AND HE CAUGHT UP AS WELL, more or less.

Idunno, maybe this is just how luck works, but it truly seems that the trio shares their successes and burdens almost equally. They support each other and in return fate has their backs as well. Honestly I couldn't have hoped for better results. Also can we give shout out to Goobleck, the true MVP? He's been on the show only for a while but look at this nat1 - nat20 ratio!!! Go goop man goo!!!

So now for the additional stuff that I also counted just for fun:

*Prophethic screwup nats:

Before the rules changed Gillion replaced 8 of his rolls into natural 20s, and in return Grizzly replaced 3 of his rolls into natural 1s.

After the rules changed he only got high enough number for 4 nat 20s, and a low enough number for 7 nat 1s.

So that together makes additional 12 nat 20s and 10 nat 1s from the prophetic screwup alone. I don't think they should be added, but the numbers are there so feel free to do whatever you want with them :)

Downs and death saves:

Throughout the campaign Gillion went down 14 times and rolled 8 death saves.

Chip went down 6 times and rolled 4 death saves.

Jay went down 4 times and rolled 3 death saves.

No shocker here, Gillion dies a lot XD

Knights:

In their journey Gillion knighted 4 people: Julien Booker, Clorton, Garrieth and Duke.

Corruption score:

Thus far each character has the following amount of corruption points (Black Sea):

Gillion: 0

Chip: 2

Jay: 3

Queen: 1

Gryffon: 2 (i think, unsure abt that one, may edit later XD)

Earl: 1

That is all I have for now. I may be clinically insane :)

Good day to everyone and I hope you found this data interesting. Take care <3

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #gillion jrwi #chip jrwi #jay jrwi #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi goobleck #math????#i guess #insane autistic person talks about statistics for a looong time #if anyone wants something else counted i' m right here fam #GIVE ME A REASON TO REWATCH ALL OF RIPTIDE FOR THE FOURTH TIME I DARE YOU

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awfcspencer · 26 days

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Long Live || leah williamson x reader

prompt: The journey of the Euros, Leah's ACL, and then returning.

warnings: mentions of injury, some instances of angst

“I said remember this moment. In the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in the stands went wild.”

All summer you had watched Leah and her England national teammates endlessly work for this opportunity, a chance to play in a Euro final and hopefully win the Euros on home soil. The tournament had begun swimmingly, solid wins against Austria, Norway, and Northern Ireland, ending the group perfect, with zero goals conceded. It was the perfect triumph heading into quarterfinals with Spain, a worthy competitor that brought a different style of play into the tournament. This would be the first time the England side would be thoroughly tested and you could only hope for the vital win.

The Spain match was certainly the most stressful thus far, it had you pacing back and forth praying to some sort of God to allow a miracle to happen and England to move forward. A goal slotted in the back of the net by Ester González sent you into a full-blown panic, but luckily Ella equalized near the end of regulation time to take the game to extra-time. A danger of a strike from Georgia sealed the 2-1 win for England to send them into the semifinals with Sweden.

Throughout the tournament, you were allotted minimal time with your girlfriend, between training and media duties, you had to rely on text messages and late-night facetime calls for communication. You even kept those to a minimum so that Leah’s main focus could be on leading England to a Euros final, especially because she was captaining the team. You vividly remember the night she had called you to let you know the news and your heart beamed for your lover every time she stepped on the pitch with the armband. The inability to not actually spend nearly enough time with Leah had been unfortunate for you, but you knew what this meant to her and you would do it every day over again if it meant that she could play to her very best. Later on you would find out that Leah had kept a very detailed journal of her days on camp, sharing every single memory and thought with you after the come down of the tournament when she returned home.

You could also tell just how the sport of women’s football was growing at each game, thousands of fans attended the matches, breaking records at each stadium. You even spotted several little girls and boys wearing your girlfriend’s kit, imaging one day your own kids wearing their mother’s number on their back. You swelled with pride at every match, seeing Leah’s passion for the game and her ability to lead her team, she and her team were finally getting the recognition they had worked so hard for and starting a new wave of young women playing football.

The next opponent, Sweden, brought one of the most historic goals with Alessia finding the back of the net with her backheel. A 4-0 win that sent England into the finals to face a powerful Germany team. You were overjoyed with happiness while you spent half the summer supporting your girlfriend at various stadiums across England and her dreams were so close you could taste it. At every single game, Leah would look up at her section and you would meet her with flashing eyes and a dimpled smile, you were always there and Leah loved every minute of it.

“I’m so proud of you baby! Onto the finals!” You congratulated her as she made long strides towards the section where you sat, hugging you desperately close. You mostly kept the interaction brief and short to allow her to visit with the several family members that had continuously showed up to support Leah.

She kept you close though, basking in your presence with an arm laced around your waist as she conversed with the people around you. You also spent some time congratulating different members of the England squad who you had come to know through Leah, ushering them well wishes and good luck’s as they passed by.

The Germany game brought you endless nervousness and stress, you desperately wanted your girlfriend to win, you saw all the hard work her and all her teammates had poured in and you wanted nothing more than them to be rewarding with a historic win. The first half ended goalless as you held close to Amanda, she had been by your side all tournament long and you both knew how desperately bad England and Leah wanted this win. Ella came on as a substitute and gave England the lead 1-0, but not long after, Germany unfortunately equalized, sending the match into extra time tied 1-1.

You hadn’t been able to sit the whole match, anxiously swaying back and forth as you watched. The next goal felt like it happened in slow motion, a corner kick by Lauren that bounced off of Lucy and luckily entered the patch of Chloe who nearly sealed the Euros win with an incredible goal. An all-around effort of time wasting and the final whistle blew, ‘England are European champions’ rang throughout a nearly sold-out Wembley stadium as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You jumped up and down while embracing several of Leah’s various family members into hugs, cheering amongst yourselves as you celebrated. England had done it and you were ecstatic for your girlfriend. Once finished with mandatory media duties and celebrating with her teammates, she made her way towards you.

“You’ve earned this love, Leah Williamson European champion!” You exclaimed with tears in your eyes as the confetti fell. “I am so, so proud of you. I’m speechless right now, just so happy baby. You did it!”

“I couldn’t have done it without your support.” She happily expressed, lifting you up while swinging you around as your fingers threaded through her hair, a wide smile cemented on your faces. You met her lips with a bruising kiss, thinking back to all the lonely nights in bed without your lover, remembering all the sacrifices she had made to make it to this moment made this moment all the more sweeter. Your childhood neighbor turned best friend and then eventually lover from Milton Keynes had led her country to a European championship and you couldn’t be happier.

To this day, watching her raise the trophy with her team had been one of your favorite memories, also the copious amount of partying and celebrating that ensued after the finals into the early hours of the next morning.

“You held your head like a hero.”

April 19th will always be a date forever engrained into your mind. A matchup between Manchester United and Arsenal at Leighs Sports Village where Arsenal looked to avenge a 2-3 loss to the Manchester side at the Emirates in the beginning half of the season, fighting to stay in the top of the WSL standings.

You’d woken up early this matchday, looking at the alarm clock that read a few minutes after 8 A.M. in red numbers. Stretching out your limbs and rolling over to your lover who lied in a deep sleep, her chest rising and falling slowly. She looked peaceful and you decided you would let her rest a little longer, knowing that waking a sleeping Leah too early resulted in a grumpy Leah, and you undeniably knew that Leah would snooze her alarm a few times before actually getting up anyways.

You took the time to properly make Leah a sufficient breakfast that included necessary carbs and protein to fuel the athlete, knowing the defender’s usual ham sandwich pregame meal would not be efficient enough for her to play to her best potential no matter how many times you had told her. You’d checked her kit bag twice to make sure she had everything she needed and even added a little post-it note that told her how much you loved her and wished her a good game, placing it in her left boot so she could find it right before the match.

“Good morning super star, ready for today?” You asked the blonde when she came shuffling into the kitchen a half an hour later, rubbing her tired eyes and still dressed in her pajamas. Meeting her upon her entrance in a warm embrace before you ushered her towards the kitchen table to eat her meal while you finished up making yourself a coffee. Manchester United always gave a valent effort, especially when they played against the Arsenal red, but you had little to no doubt that Leah and her squad could pull out an important win.

“Ready as ever, I feel good,” she told you in between bites. “You’ll be there right? I need my good luck charm in attendance.”

“Of course I will baby, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You told her as you joined her at the table, a large grin plastered across the defender’s face. “But you really need to hurry, you have to leave in 20 minutes.”

“20 minutes?” the blonde questioned, glancing down at her watch to check the time which indicated she indeed need to put a pep in her step. “Where has the time gone? Thank you for breakfast baby.” Leah said placing her dishes in the sink and meeting you back at the table to pepper soft kisses on the side of your cheek.

“Leah, you hit the snooze button 4 times this morning and have the audacity to be shocked you’re running late? Honestly woman you surprise me every day.” You teased towards her as she ran to get dressed and do in her hair in the bedroom while you finished your breakfast at the table, mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

Several minutes later she waltzed out in the Arsenal sweatsuit combo with her sudoku book in hand and her iPad in the other. She met you at the door where you held her fully packed kit bag up for her as she sent you a thankful smile when you placed the bag on her shoulder. You carefully tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her ponytail, secretly chuckling to yourself at the endless hours you told Leah how much she would regret getting a fringe after the photoshoot was over.

“Love you baby, play well today. Score a goal for me, yeah?” You whispered in her ear, throwing your arms around her neck, hugging her close before pulling her in for a passionate kiss, only forcing yourself to separate when you remembered Leah needed to be leaving or she would miss the bus.

Leah opened the door before turning back towards you, “Just one more hug before I leave? Please?” your girlfriend begged and who were you to deny her, pulling her in for another warm, tight embrace.

“Now go Williamson or you’re going to be late.” You told her, practically having to shove the blonde out the door and closing it quickly behind you to avoid her forming some sort of wild excuse for another hug or kiss. You quickly finished up cleaning the last reminiscent of breakfast before getting ready for the match yourself, throwing on your ‘Williamson 6’ kit and getting into your car to drive to the stadium.

------

The stadium was rambunctious, fans filling nearly every inch, excited to watch the next 90 minutes of football between two talented sides. You watched during warmups as Leah carefully scanned the crowd for her section of family and friends, sending her a wave and a smile when your eyes finally met hers as she returned the actions. Soon enough, warmups had ended, and the match was set to begin and you were on the edge of your seat, knees bobbing up and down until the whistle blew. Leah had already sent you a text that she found your little not, accompanying the message with a smile selfie holding the post-it.

Watching Leah play the sport she loved was something you would never take for granted, especially after this game.

It all happened so fast, one second Leah was on her feet and the next, she wasn’t. It was normal for Leah to play aggressively, using her body in ways to excel her game, not wanting to potentially give up anything to the opposition. It was a move she had done countless of times in training and on the pitch, so you expected her to bounce back up quickly and continue on. But she didn’t get up.

Looking down as your girlfriend lay face down on the pitch pounding her hand on the pitch in pain broke your heart in indescribable ways. Each second that passed that Leah did not get up sent a dagger farther and farther into your chest, wanting nothing more than to run onto the pitch and console your girlfriend. You were sure you hadn’t let out a single breath since she went down and it felt like every Arsenal fan, player, and coach also held their breath, they’d seen the injury with Beth, and then with Viv, and now they might have just witnessed another, the dreaded three letter word. The stadium fell eerily silent, everyone unsure of what to say or do next while the medics attended to your wincing lover, and it cut directly right through you.

You found yourself murmuring, “Get up Leah. Please, just get up baby. Please be okay,” as you watched from your seat, heartbroken with shaking legs and red rimmed eyes.

The images of your tear-stained girlfriend limping off the pitch haunted your eyes every time you closed them as you tried to regain your composure throughout the rest of the first half. You wanted to run back towards the changing rooms and demand someone to tell you what was going on, but it would do no good, Leah was with exactly who she needed to be with in this moment but that didn’t necessarily make you feel any better. Sat in the stands you thought about the next leg of the Champion League that she could possibly miss, or the World Cup that was set to happen in the summer, but you forced those thoughts out of your mind, reframing your brain into thinking that Leah would be okay, and it was a minor injury, nothing to worry or fret over. She would be okay, she had to be okay.

An Arsenal staff member had come and found you not long after the halftime whistle blew, he didn’t say much, just a request to follow him. He led you through the underbelly of the stadium and into the physio room where you saw the most gut-wrenching sight. Your girlfriend lied on the cushioned physio table as various trainers examined her knee, her baby blue no longer shed tears and her agonizing demeanor that she showed on the pitch was gone. Instead she lied in a catatonic state while everything happened around her, until she saw you enter.

You step forward towards her, meeting her at her side at the table, still unsure of what the diagnosis was. Your hands interlaced with hers immediately, brushing your thumb back and forth over your lover’s knuckles. She tilted her face to you and uttered the most gut-wrenching letters.

“ACL.” She said monotoned with a tightened jaw and thin lips. You knew she would still need a scan to properly confirm the diagnosis but the instant flash of pain that quickly subsided and the pop of the knee that she described to you after undoubtedly pointed to the tore muscle.

“Oh baby.” Your heart raced wildly. “I’m so sorry.” Releasing a shaky breath that you weren’t aware you were holding in. You don’t really know what to do, you open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

“Oh love, I wish I could take away all the pain from you.” You told her in a whispered hush just loud enough for her to hear. They were the only words that felt right in the situation as the trainers around the two of you talked among themselves on how to proceed next.

Leah wanted to leave as soon as the physios allowed her to, you assisted in getting her to your car that you had driven to the stadium while the Arsenal staff collected her belongings and brought them to you. You sent them a quick thanks and drove home as quickly as you could. This was all new uncharted territory, Leah had never been injured for a potential prolonged time like an ACL injury would have her sidelined and not being an athlete yourself, you couldn’t exactly understand what was going on in your lover’s mind.

The days before her scan were hard, Leah still didn’t say much, keeping to herself in your shared bed a majority of the time, but each night when she believed you were asleep, she would cry with sobs that wracked through her body and sent overwhelming pain and hurt through yours.

A doctor’s appointment and an MRI scan that you accompanied Leah to confirmed the dreaded injury. The medical team discussed the next steps to Leah and yourself about surgery and rehab treatments and after what left like hours, you were finally able to take Leah home.

In bed later that night, Leah worked tirelessly trying to type up a statement to say to her social media to let her fans know what was going on, but with each sentence she typed, she would quickly delete it, leaving her with a blank note once again. The two of you hadn’t really talked about the extent of the injury and what it means for the two of you just yet, again, it was all uncharted territory, and you didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make her more upset than she already was. She’d finally come up with the right words she was looking for and sent out the message, promptly closing her phone and setting it on the bedside table after.

You set down the book that you had been reading right before bed and turned to your girlfriend’s sad eyes.

“Oh my sweet, sweet Leah.” You cooed, pulling her into your arms, gently tilting her chin to look into her eyes before saying, “You know you don’t have to do this alone, because I care about you, okay? And I will be here every step of the way.”

“Please, just hold me.” She cried, and that is what you did, clutching onto her body with a strong hold, rubbing circles into her back as she sobbed into your arms until she eventually tired herself out and fell asleep.

“Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines. Wishing for right now.”

Driving Leah to the hospital on the day of her operation was when the injury really felt real, up to this point the whole situation had felt like a bad dream, hoping to wake up and Leah would be perfectly fine, but that never happened. You tried your best to keep spirits high in the operation room and distract Leah the best you could by remembering to grab her sudoku book before leaving the house and making Leah pose in her oversized hospital gown for a picture. You told her every positive affirmation you could possibly think of as they wheeled her out of the room, clutching her hand until the last very second she wasn’t in reach, and then you waited, waited for what felt like years.

You’d already taken the time to text Beth and Viv separately to discuss in what ways you could best aid Leah during this journey, talking about what worked and what didn’t work. Several of the Arsenal girls had sent their well wishes to you for Leah, knowing by now she was already in surgery, you sent them a quick thank you message and promised to text as soon as she was out. You also already had the house set up to assist in rehab, purchasing the ice machine that Beth had raved about and miscellaneous things that you had bought online after reading about the best rehab techniques for ACL injuries.

Leah’s rehab was filled with the highest highs and the lowest of lows, but nonetheless, you were right by her side through every step, even when she didn’t want you to be. The first few weeks right after surgery were probably the worst part of her rehab and you could tell the toll it was taking on the defender as she would lash out at you over the simplest of things, quickly apologizing after she realized her negative outburst.

Leah had to physically relearn how to walk and relearn how to use the weak muscle and she felt herself doubting her body’s ability to measure up to what she was before the injury. She spent long days at the Arsenal facility, focusing on her rehab to the point where it was all she thought about, every move she made was to increase her ability to get back on the pitch.

You tried to coax Leah into confiding in you for how she was feeling but most nights it turned into an argument where Leah claimed she didn’t want to talk about it and that she was fine. You knew how badly she wanted to just play football, especially when she had to resort to watching the Champions league matches from the couch with her knee propped up with a few pillows.

“You don’t have to be so stoic all the time Leah, crying isn’t a sign of weakness, you know. You can’t just keep it all bottled up. You have to let it all out of you, otherwise you’ll just explode.” You told her as you watched the match, watching as Leah’s lip trembled a bit as she watched what was supposed to be her on the pitch.

“I’ll never be that me again, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I don’t know who I am anymore without football.” She said, her eyes never left the television but you could tell the tears threatened to fall.

“You’re still you Leah, the same Leah who leads Arsenal’s defense, the same Leah who led England to a European championship, you just have a new ACL love.” Leah curled more into you, placing her head in your lap while you ran your fingers through her blonde hair.

“I am so very in love with you, thank you for everything, I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend recently but you are my everything.”

“Oh Leah, my sweet, sweet Leah, you are nothing but perfect, sure the journey has not been ideal but I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you and an ACL injury doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. I just need you to let me in, talk to me about what is going on in that pretty little head of yours, okay?” You bent your head down to place a soft kiss on her cheek, and you felt Leah give a small nod in your lap.

Watching the World Cup from your shared home also felt like a punch to heart, knowing that if this injury hadn’t occurred, Leah would be there and you would too. The Australian times meant waking up early, most days you were up before the sun, but Leah woke up every match day and watched as her team continued to win throughout the major tournament. When England made the finals, you knew Leah needed to be there and she knew too, next thing you knew you were on the long flight over. The loss in the finals was hard but there was so much to be proud of and you knew the England girls found comfort in having Leah in attendance.

The second half of Leah’s rehab was much better, especially after the conversation you had as Leah now let you in, told you how she was feeling through every high and low of recovery. Once Leah was able to get back into the gym and very light football trainings, her spirits were lifted dramatically, she was closing in on her return to the pitch.

Throughout recovery, Leah did several media outings, finally getting the time to attend the events and let herself really enjoy having a break from football, trying to look at the positives in the situation. You accompanied her to nearly all the events and took the time to thoroughly enjoy just being a couple, relinquishing in the time allotted allowed to just be with Leah.

“Hold on to spinning around. Confetti falls to the ground. May these memories break our fall.”

With every month that passed since Leah’s injury, you knew she was getting closer and closer to stepping back on the pitch. She had now joined in on full training and was looking very solid. You thought back to all the tribulations Leah had overcame to get to this very moment, all the nights she sobbed in your arms and wished everything had gone down differently, all the days she spent cooped up inside doing her various stretches and rewatching her previous matches.

All of the members of the Arsenal physio staff had worked diligently to get Leah ready to return, they had done well in their efforts when Beth and Viv returned and you were sure they knew when Leah was ready, on account that Leah herself was ready to return.

You sat on the couch after returning home from work, searching through the television channels to find something on that was worthwhile that wasn’t some trashy reality show. A click of your front door and your girlfriend practically ran into the living room, jumping on top of you on the couch, screaming words you couldn’t exactly catch because she was speaking so quickly.

“Lee slow down. What happened?” You asked, pushing the heavy blonde off of you and throwing her to the side of the couch, chucking a small pillow at her as she made a loud huff when you forced her off you.

“It’s happening baby. They said I can come on during the Reading game, most likely in the second half” the blonde exclaimed from the top of her lungs, standing nearly bouncing off the couch with energy.

“This is everything you’ve been working towards baby, all your hard work has paid off. I’m so proud of you baby. You’ve earned this moment.”

You couldn’t help but jump up and down at the news, you were really the only person who was able to see every up and down of Leah’s rehab journey and you had stuck by her side every step of the way.

The League Cup against Reading couldn’t have been better, the Arsenal were up 4-0 when Leah came off the bench in the final half hour to replace Jen. The crowd roared like never before when Leah began warming up and erupted when she was finally subbed on.

To make the moment even sweeter, Leah went on to provide an assist to Beth near the 80th minute to make it 5-0. You held your breath each time she moved on the pitch, the images of her injury replayed in your mind over and over, but each time Leah moved and dribbled around, she proved that she was fit to come back and be an even better player than before. The game ended with a win and you couldn’t help but run towards the pitch as soon as the final whistle blew and Leah found you immediately.

You give in to the magnetic pull between the two of you, wrapping your arms around the back of her waist and pulling her against you, your lips crashing into hers. Your heads twist and tilt and readjust clumsily. You breath hard against her sweaty, salty skin as she drags her fingers down your jaw and off the end of your chin over and over, trying to pull you impossibly closer.

“Oh my Leah, you’ve really outdone yourself. I am so deeply proud of you.” You told her once the two of you separated, wiping the small tears that feel from her eyes.

It was nearly almost an exact year from the date the Leah tore her ACL that she made her return to Wembley for the England squad and you couldn’t be pleased with your lover.

“If you have children someday. When they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name.”

Several years down the road, you were sat with your wife and two daughters at the kitchen table looking over various scrapbooks and photo collections just reminiscing.

“When did mama get hurt?” Your eldest daughter, Emily, asked, pointing to a photo that you had taken of Leah in her oversized hospital gown right before her ACL surgery.

“I hurt my knee in a match and I had to get surgery to fix it.” Your wife told her.

“Was it scary?”

“It was a little bit scary, but I had mommy by my side and all your aunts at Arsenal to help me through it.” She explained, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you closer to her chair and giving you a small kiss on the cheek.

“This is the picture when mommy was able to play again. She was out for nearly 9 months.” You told her, shifting the photobook to the next page that had all the pictures you’d taken during the Reading match.

“9 months? That is like a million years.” Your youngest daughter piped in.

“It sort of felt like a million years some days.” Leah said looking down at her watch, “Okay girls, bedtime, remember we have to wake up early for Emily’s match.”

You gave each of your daughters a tight hug and kiss while wishing them a good night’s sleep and making sure to tell Leah no funny business, she had a habit of letting the girl’s convince her into reading more than one bedtime story.

While Leah put the girls to bed, you made sure to pack Emily’s kit bag, packing tiny ham sandwiches cut into triangles into the bag, a habit that your wife instilled in your daughter before each match. When Leah returned to the kitchen, she pulled the post-it notes from the junk drawer and began writing a note to Emily, wishing her good luck and telling her how much the two of you loved her, a habit you had done with Leah before her games.

-----

Kinda hate how this turned out but it is finished nonetheless

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso #woso community #woso soccer

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whimsyfinny · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 1566

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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Please Read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 2

The journey to the bunker was pretty uneventful, with Sam and Charlie chatting amongst themselves in the front of the car whilst both myself and Dean sat miserably next to each other in the back like a couple of criminals who’d been arrested. The chains on my handcuffs jangled as I rubbed my sore knuckles; the skin raw, bruised and red from either my own blood or - most likely - Deans. As I did, I could feel a red hot glare burning into the side of my face from the older Winchester, as though he was in disbelief that I even had the audacity to feel any pain or discomfort right now as dark red scabs formed on his nose and cheek. We pulled up next to the bunker, and I didn’t get much chance to look at the surrounding scenery as the moment we were parked, the golden retriever duo up front hopped out, slammed their doors shut and threw ours open, Sam gently yet firmly grasping my elbow and pulling me to my feet whilst Charlie did the same for Dean. We were marched into the building and we soon arrived in what I assumed to be the kitchen. Sam pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to take a seat at the table to which I obliged with Dean following suit and taking a seat opposite me. We stared each other down from across the table for a few moments, the atmosphere growing thicker by the second as his brilliant green eyes pierced mine.

“Enough the pair of you!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Look, I’ve got some things to say before we release you both back into the wild. It won’t take long,” she sighed and rubbed her temples. “I wanted to introduce you guys to (Y/n) because I thought you would get along! With your shared interest in hunting, bootcut jeans, rock music and most importantly - pie.”

Dean and I shot each other a quick glance before looking away again. Charlie continued.

“You’ve had one disagreement, and even though I was impressed by the performance it definitely didn’t warrant the carnage. You’re both adults, so act like it and stop bickering like children. You’re going to be living and working together now so you’re both just going to have to suck it up and move on.”

Sam stepped forward; “I agree with Charlie. (Y/n) you have no idea how much of a help you being here is going to be. We’ve been going around in circles for months and we really need a fresh pair of eyes. Plus you get free food and board, if that helps,” he grinned slightly trying to lighten the mood. I humoured him and softened my eyes, raising my eyebrows in acknowledgment to the pros of staying here.

“Right,” he clapped his hands together, “we’re going to remove the tape and you’re both going to be civilised. You promise?”

I gave Dean one final long, hard stare before nodding.

”Good,” Sams soft cool fingers grazed my cheek as he pulled up the corner of the tape, gently peeling it back until it was removed and I could finally take a deep breath. Meanwhile, Charlie approached Dean and in one swift movement ripped the tape from his mouth in under a second.

“FUCK!” He cried out as he tenderly touched his now extra sore swollen lips. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Right, I’m going to go and get (Y/n)s belongings from the motel room she’s staying in and check her out then I’ll be right back with all her stuff. I’ll see you guys later!” And before I could even protest for her to take me with her, she’d turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the bunker, leaving Sam to undo our cuffs and set us free.

“That bitch,” I sighed, huffing a strand of hair out of my face. Sam knelt before me, that kind look in his eye ever twinkling.

“(Y/n) I promise you that you're safe here. It’s warded to the teeth and full of everything we need to survive. We’ve got you,” he patted my knee before taking my hands in his, using a small key to finally undo the cuffs right before they clattered to the floor. I leant down to pick them up, and by the time I’d sat back up to place them on the kitchen table, he was already beside Dean doing the same for him. His own cuffs removed and rubbing his wrists, he stood, looking from me to Sam a few times before speaking.

“Well I’ve already suffered enough today so I’m going to spend time coming up with a better excuse as to why I look like this,” he gestured to his beaten face and turned to leave, mumbling a quick ‘see ya later’ to Sam before leaving the kitchen. Sam stood awkwardly for a second, before declaring that he was going to get some lunch for everyone and also scurried away, leaving me completely alone in alien territory. I was still sat at the table as I began to look around.

This place was a dump.

How did these grown ass men live in conditions like this? The dirty dishes were piled so high that it was a surprise they hadn’t toppled over yet. Empty beer bottles cluttered the table and countertops, the bin was overflowing with bulging bin bags dumped right next to it without being taken outside and the smell was starting to make me feel a little nauseous. How does Sam expect us all to eat and live together in conditions like this? It was like living with a couple of wild animals. After a few silent moments to myself I released a breath I’d been holding whilst I pondered. I ran my hands through my hair and laughed at myself in disbelief. I’m gonna have to clean the fucking kitchen. Without giving it a second thought and running the risk that I’d change my mind, I scooped my hair into a high ponytail using the bobble on my wrist and pushed up my sleeves, finding a pair of rubber gloves under the sink. Let’s clean this bitch.

In the space of about an hour and a half (a gruelling hour and a half), I’d washed and dried the dishes, putting them away in their respective places, taken out all the trash and lined the bin with a fresh bag, scrubbed and disinfected every surface and had even mopped the floors. The smell of rotting trash was dissipating and the urge to claw off my own skin had gone. I’d propped the mop against the wall and stepped back to admire my hard labour when I heard a door open and close, the entering footsteps heading my way. Sam emerged into the kitchen, a stunned look on his face as he walked to the table slowly, placing about 6 bags of ‘groceries’ on its surface. His mouth opened and closed a few times like he was searching for the right things to say.

“You’re welcome,” I cut in, hoping to help him find his words.

“Yeah, thank you! I’m sorry, I didn't know what to say - you really didn’t have to do this. It’s embarrassing that you were even put in a situation where you felt you had to,” he grimaced a little, only now realising what a horror show it was that they were living in. “But seriously thank you, I really appreciate it,” he smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. Sam was sweet and easy to like - unlike his Neanderthal brother. I felt like I could trust him.

I peeled my gloves off, threw them in the bin and approached the kitchen table where Sam was pulling out a case of beer.

“Here, you deserve one of these,” he said, handing me one. The bottle was nice and cool on my hot fingertips, my warm skin instantly relishing the coldness.

“Thank you,” I smiled before popping the cap and taking a long, well deserved drink. I savoured the moment, genuinely appreciating Sam’s gesture. Although all nice moments comes to an end, and soon Dean was striding into the room bold as brass, seating himself at the table and helping himself to a beer without so much as a hello. It wasn’t until he’d drained half the bottle in one gulp that he realised the kitchen was clean. He grinned and looked at his brother.

“Hey, nice job Sammy! It looks great in here, I owe you one,” he raised his bottle as if making a small toast whilst Sam’s eyes flicked to mine.

“Uh, Dean… this wasn’t me. You need to thank (Y/n) for that,” Deans grin faulted slightly as he looked between the two of us before it returned. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows in suspicion. His forest green eyes pierced into mine as he almost purred his next sentence.

“Well, Sammy, it looks like we’ve bagged ourselves a maid. Does she cook too?”

I slammed my bottle on the table, much like I did earlier. Only Sam flinched.

“I’m not your fucking maid,” I snarled, resenting that shit-eating grin on the older Winchesters lips. He chuckled, the sound coming deep from within his chest as he rose to his feet.

“Sure thing sweetheart.”

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Taglist: @creative-writing92 @suckitands33

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Up Next:

Chapter 3

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female!reader #enemies to lovers #Dean Winchester enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn

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txttletale · 4 months

Note

Your discussions on AI art have been really interesting and changed my mind on it quite a bit, so thank you for that! I don’t think I’m interested in using it, but I feel much less threatened by it in the same way. That being said, I was wondering, how you felt about AI generated creative writing: not, like AI writing in the context of garbage listicles or academic essays, but like, people who generate short stories and then submit them to contests. Do you think it’s the same sort of situation as AI art? Do you think there’s a difference in ChatGPT vs mid journey? Legitimate curiosity here! I don’t quite have an opinion on this in the same way, and I’ve seen v little from folks about creative writing in particular vs generated academic essays/articles

i think that ai generated writing is also indisputably writing but it is mostly really really fucking awful writing for the same reason that most ai art is not good art -- that the large training sets and low 'temperature' of commercially available/mass market models mean that anything produced will be the most generic version of itself. i also think that narrative writing is very very poorly suited to LLM generation because it generally requires very basic internal logic which LLMs are famously bad at (i imagine you'd have similar problems trying to create something visual like a comic that requires consistent character or location design rather than the singular images that AI art is mostly used for). i think it's going to be a very long time before we see anything good long-form from an LLM, especially because it's just not a priority for the people making them.

ultimately though i think you could absolutely do some really cool stuff with AI generated text if you had a tighter training set and let it get a bit wild with it. i've really enjoyed a lot of AI writing for being funny, especially when it was being done with tools like botnik that involve more human curation but still have the ability to completely blindside you with choices -- i unironically think the botnik collegehumour sketch is funnier than anything human-written on the channel. & i think that means it could reliably be used, with similar levels of curation, to make some stuff that feels alien, or unsettling, or etheral, or horrifying, because those are somewhat adjacent to the surreal humour i think it excels at. i could absolutely see it being used in workflows -- one of my friends told me recently, essentially, "if i'm stuck with writer's block, i ask chatgpt what should happen next, it gives me a horrible idea, and i immediately think 'that's shit, and i can do much better' and start writing again" -- which is both very funny but i think presents a great use case as a 'rubber duck'.

but yea i think that if there's anything good to be found in AI-written fiction or poetry it's not going to come from chatGPT specifically, it's going to come from some locally hosted GPT model trained on a curated set of influences -- and will have to either be kind of incoherent or heavily curated into coherence.

that said the submission of AI-written stories to short story mags & such fucking blows -- not because it's "not writing" but because it's just bad writing that's very very easy to produce (as in, 'just tell chatGPT 'write a short story'-easy) -- which ofc isn't bad in and of itself but means that the already existing phenomenon of people cynically submitting awful garbage to literary mags that doesn't even meet the submission guidelines has been magnified immensely and editors are finding it hard to keep up. i think part of believing that generative writing and art are legitimate mediums is also believing they are and should be treated as though they are separate mediums -- i don't think that there's no skill in these disciplines (like, if someone managed to make writing with chatGPT that wasnt unreadably bad, i would be very fucking impressed!) but they're deeply different skills to the traditional artforms and so imo should be in general judged, presented, published etc. separately.

#ask #ai art

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bloodywickedvamp · 1 year

Text

Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six?

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: Reader is dating Michael Emerson and they're fed up with his uncharacteristic behavior towards his family and them since moving to Santa Carla. They decided to finally confront Michael on the boardwalk with an audience of 4 in attendance.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: angst, heated argument (?) more so the reader just yelling, maybe a little gaslighting if you look hard, cursing

Hi! This is my first fic so any notes or critiques on how I can improve my writing or any notes at all are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy! This may or may not turn into a multi-part fic. I have a bigger idea for it but we'll see if i have it in me to do it lol. Also, let me know if I missed any warnings and i'll be sure to add them.

Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics

Michael Fucking Emerson...

The man I love more than anything has become someone I don't even want to know.

After moving to Santa Carla from Phoenix he changed so drastically I still can't seem to wrap my head around it. We've been together for a few years now and I became so close to his mom and brother that it felt natural to accept when he offered for me to come with them and stay for the summer once the time came for the move.

After his first few nights on the boardwalk is when I noticed the shift. He went off on his own as I was hanging with Sam or Lucy and wouldn't come home till the very early hours of the morning. He was rude and snippy to the questioning from his mom. Harsh and mean to Sam, more so than the typical sibling bickering and teasing that they engaged in. He'd keep his distance from me, like he could barely stand to be around me at all and completely blow me off any time I tried to talk or spend time together. It's only gotten worse and I'm at my wits end with it.

After having a tearful heart to heart with Lucy about his 180 in behavior I decided to take matters into my own hands whether he likes it or not.

I start my journey to the place that I've begun to despise, associating it with the 'new Michael'.

Finally, I spot my elusive brunette exactly where I thought he'd be, on the boardwalk but to my surprise he's also surrounded by a group of intimidating looking bikers. Two rowdy blondes, one with an impressively long curly haired mullet and an eye catching custom patchwork jacket adorned his somewhat smaller, muscular stature. The other untamed boy, with wild hair to match and a dark fishnet top that leaves almost nothing to the imagination, is nearly bouncing around the others with glee at whatever they're discussing. Next I notice a tall, dark, and handsome brunette to their right who takes the cake at revealing outfits with the lack of shirt and wide open leather jacket. With the slightest of smiles he's leaning against presumably his own motorcycle observing the rest of his group and the crowd at large. Lastly, to the right of the brunette and the left of Michael, there's a bleach blonde mullet you couldn't miss for miles a top the most intimidating looking one, wearing a too-stuffy seeming trench coat for this Santa Carla summer heat.

In a normal circumstance I would have slight hesitation to approach the group alone so boldly, as I find myself doing now, but I couldn't care less who's around. At this moment the only person to be feared on the boardwalk is me. I'm on mission for some answers and god help the poor soul who fucks with me right now.

As I take my final few strides towards my boyfriend they all notice me. The four unknown boys go quiet as they take me in curiously, a determined walk, pissed off expression, heavy breathing, and clenched fists.

"Michael fucking Emerson!" I erupted, jabbing my finger in his chest, coming face to face with the wide eyed boy.

"Hey baby-" He tried cautiously.

"Oh good you actually do remember you have a partner"

"Look I know you're upset and rightfully so but-"

I hold my hand up to silence whatever bullshit was about to spill from his mouth. "No no no, I'm still talking and you're listening." He nods his head slowly, afraid to set me off even more, if that's possible. I hear rather than see snickers to my right from the others.

"I don't know what's been going on with you and why you've been treating everyone in your life like shit but I'm sick and tired of it and I want answers. Now." The words spill heatedly from my lips as my anger intensifies from the inevitable release pent up over the past few weeks. Michaels mouth opens whether in shock or to interject, I don't know but I cut him off before I can find out.

"It's one thing the way you've been treating me - and trust me we'll get to that" I accentuate with a pointed finger in the air and back down after. "but it's a whole other thing with Lucy and Sam. You barely talk to or see Sam anymore and he's devastated, you're his best friend and he misses you. Your mother does absolutely everything she can for you and Sam. She upended her entire life in Phoenix to give you both a fresh start - since the move you've done nothing but push her away every time she tries to talk. That woman is the sweetest person on this planet and I'll be damned if you think I'm going to let you walk all over her anymore." Huffing at the end of my tirade.

If Michael's eyes got any wider they would've popped out of his head. Maybe the middle of the boardwalk wasn't the best place to do this but I couldn't contain it anymore. The nice approach hasn't worked and he needed a good telling off.

"You're right, everything you're saying is right but maybe we could do this more privately" Michael offered while trying to gently grab my upper arm to pull me somewhere else. With a worried look in his eyes he glanced at the boys then back at me pleadingly.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you in front of your new friends? Who I've never met or heard anything about by the way." I argued back while also taking the time to look them over, up close now.

They all seem to be enjoying themselves watching Michael's berating. Smirks and giggles passing amongst the group as they share knowing glances between them and at me, like they're having a secret conversation only the leather clad bikers can understand.

Piercing blue eyes land on me as bleach-boy flirted "You're a fiery little thing aren't you? I can't believe it's taking this long for us to meet, Michael, how come you didn't introduce us sooner?" He jabbed, finally tearing his eyes away from mine towards the conflicted brunette in front of me.

"You know why David." Michael states matter of factly. His grip on my arm tightening ever so slightly, voice husky with something primal I've never heard from him before.

"Can't imagine why you'd want to hide a babe like this away, it just doesn't seem fair." The tallest blonde beamed at me starry eyed and grinning cheerfully. He moved closer to reach out and stroke my hair quicker than I could register, taking in a small almost imperceptible inhale from me if I wasn't paying close attention. Releasing a contented sigh before I was pulled back towards Michael.

"Don't touch them, don't even think about it." he sneered.

"Come on Mike, we aren't going to hurt 'em. Right Paul?"

"Right on Marko." Paul jested as Marko playfully elbowed him.

What the fuck is happening and who the hell are these guys? Jumping into the one-sided argument between me and my boyfriend to start flirting? Are they his friends? Last time I checked friends don't hit on their friends' significant others, especially right in front of them so shamelessly.

"You never mentioned you were dating someone." The other brunette tacked on to the conversation speaking for the first time. Giving me a once over with those alluring brown eyes, hungrily.

I stared daggers back at the boy holding me in a tight grip, ripping my arm away to mock "Wow, why am I not surprised." I desperately try to steal my emotions to keep the hurt and betrayal from coming to the forefront.

"You don't understand and I don't even know how to explain but you have to believe me it's for your own good." Michael again pleads for my compassion. It's too late for that.

"Of course I don't understand you don't tell me anything anymore! You blow me off, ignore me, and I assume these four are the reason for your revamp in personality." I fumed, gesturing to the group. Chuckles are heard again, at the end of my outburst.

"Are you cheating?" I suddenly asked

"What no-" Michael sputtered in surprise.

"Did you meet someone else?"

"No of course no-"

"Did you do something that could hurt Sam, Lucy, or I?"

"NO babe-"

"Then I don't see what could be so bad that you feel the need to push us all away and act like this. The only reason I'm still standing here putting up with this is because I deserve an explanation and I promised Lucy I'd get answers out of you. So start talking." I sassed.

With a defeated sigh he raised his hands in surrender "Okay Okay, walk with me to the beach and i'll explain everything to you, alone." Emphasizing his final word with a sneer towards David. David only found that amusing as he quirked an eyebrow and took out the cigarette resting behind his ear placing it between his lips and lighting it. He inhaled and blew out a cloud of smoke stating "You sure about that Michael? You're already on edge, we wouldn't want you to lose control and hurt our doll now would we?"

Our? I barely had time to register or retort back at the presumptuous claim before Michael grabbed my hand and stormed off to the beach, steam basically pouring out of his ears.

To be continued...

I feel alright about this so far. Again it's my first ever fic post so you know...it is what it is. :)

🖤 Taglist 🖤

@britany1997

#bloodywickedvamp #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #michael emerson #michael emerson x reader #poly lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #lost boys x gn reader #david tlb #paul tlb #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #michael tlb #michael emerson x gn reader #x gn reader #the lost boys x gn reader

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grilledbroccolli · 4 months

Text

Vampire!reader is craving Dan Heng

Description: Fem!Reader who is secretly a vampire but refuse to feed on human. Dan Heng to the rescue.

Warning: vampire, blood, reader forgetting about taking of herself

You have been starving yourself. Fresh blood is scarce on a train in the middle of space. Since joining the nameless in their travels, you have not told anyone about your thirst for blood nor did you plan to feast on your new friends. After arriving on a new planet, you always excuse yourself to be alone to search for live animals. Blood of animals are the only blood you dare feast on. Being a half blood, you always felt bad for hurting innocent humans. You would go out and hunt for wild animals for their blood. Once you're full, you would store the rest in blood bags for later consumption. But right now, you underestimated how long the journey would be to this new planet, you have already consumed all the contents in the blood bags you have prepared before boarding the train. Even though you can still eat human food, but it won't fill you up.

The crave for blood is getting stronger by day. All you ever did these days is stay cooped up in your room to prevent yourself from hurting others. You only leave your room for the bathroom or to eat human food with your crewmates to prevent them from worrying about you. You know rumours of your kind is terrifying. It's true that many vampires do kill and feast on humans. You worry that once they find out about your secret, they would identify you as a threat to the whole Astral Express. You would feel guilty from time to time when you know you're a threat to your crewmates but still crave the family-like atmosphere they offer and also the smell of a crewmate. From the moment you met Dan Heng, he never left your mind. His face, his voice and his delicious scent is so addictive. The last time you crave human blood was the last time you were blood hungry which was when you were just a child. But craving on a specific human's blood is a first. His being made you agree to joining the nameless. To you, he smell like lotus flowers somehow. You avoided him the most during your hungers to prevent yourself from jumping on him like hungry lion. You believe that if you can keep your cravings on the down low, consume blood cautiously, you can keep your identity safe from the rest of the crew and from him.

Your crewmates starts to smell like a feast. Your nose were getting more sensitive these days. Then, the worse happened. Dan Heng cut his finger on a page of a book. The distinct metallic smell swarm into your nose when he just so coincidently decided to ask about what's wrong with you these days.

Knock knock, "Y/n? Are you in there?" Dan Heng ask in his usual cold tone. He thinks you're acting fishy these few day when you keep avoiding socializing and eat your meals in a hurry.

"Y- Yes! What's up?" You answer in hurried tone. The smell of an open wound is getting to your head.

"Are you ok these days? You've been acting weird."

"I- I'm fine! I'm a little busy now, can't talk." You answered while rushing to the furthest corner from the door to control yourself.

"Is it ok if I come in?"

"N- No! No! Please don't! I, uh, my room! Is a mess! Ya, a mess. I- I will..." The scent is starting to consume your mind. Drools start forming in the corner of your mouth. You tried so hard to breath in as less as possible. "I'm not feeling well. It's contagious. Please don't come in. I will tell you when I recover." You don't even realize your sentence is all over the place.

"Uh ok? Can I get you anything? Maybe some medicine?" Dan Heng starts to get worried for your wellbeing.

"No need for that. I have the meds. Thanks for worrying."

"Then, I'm gonna get going. Do text us if you need anything."

"Ya ya, sure sure." You pray for him to just leave.

Luckily he left after that. But of course, he did not forget to informed the crew about your wellbeing.

From time to time, March and Stella would knock on your door to ask how you're feeling. They haven't seen you out of your room since ever since Dan Heng came by your room that day. The whole crew is getting worried. Now that you have smelt raw, fresh human blood right from the vessels, you fear you will pounce on anyone that you see. They would leave your serving of the food at the door to make sure you are eating well even though you have long lost the appetite for it. Once you bring the food into your room, the lingering smell of your friends on the tray is the only thing that allows your stomach welcome the food into the system. But they will not last long in there. Your system would absorb the nutrients needed for your human side and then reject the rest. You would eat your meal when everyone's asleep so that you can leave your room to use the bathroom without encountering anyone. You pray everyday that the train will arrive on the new planet quicker so that you can quench your thirst.

Today, you lock yourself in your room, a blanket over your head, facing the corner furthest from the door. Thoughts of Dan Heng and how he would taste on your tongue is consuming your mind. You haven't slept last night and haven't showered in days. You just took the tray of food that Stella put on your doorstep a few hours ago into your room. You took a bite of the cold rice. Blegh! You gagged. You run to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open and sprint to the bathroom while sealing your mouth shut with a palm to prevent vomit spilling on the floor. You kneel down against the toilet bowl and start vomiting.

(Blegh-gh ugh)

You haven't eaten the whole day, making it more painful to vomit.

Suddenly, a pair of hands were pulling your hair back. Preventing them from getting into your face. Shit! The smell of vomit and the burn of the stomach acid at the back of the throat has distracted you from noticing someone approaching. You quickly stand up from the kneeling position to wash and gargle your mouth at the sink. You did not fail to pick up the scent of Dan Heng.

(Shit, shit, shit!) You thought. You hurriedly turn off the sink and fingers immediately pinch your nose shut. You face him who was behind you, handing you some tissue paper to wipe your face dry. You were slightly embarrassed to have him see you in a state like this. Cracked, pale lips, messy and clumped up hair, just vomited.

"...h-... hey, Hey!" Exhaustion and hunger is seeping into your system. "Hey! Are you alright?" Dan Heng ask with a face full of worry. He started to grab your shoulder, hoping to get your attention.

"Y- a! Yes I'm alright. Thanks for helping me." You started to panicked. (Too close! His scent, omg.) "You need to go. " You tried to shake off his grip on your shoulder but it did not budged.

"Y/n, what is wrong with you?! You just vomited. You are not alright at all." He is starting to get frustrated with you. He haven't seen you in days, neither did the other crewmates. And now that you just vomited in the middle of the night. He really couldn't help but get worried for you. These last few days, his mind is full of you. The last time he heard your voice, you sounded like you don't want him near you at all. He does not care for whatever others think of him, but you, you got him curious. Something about you is just so alluring and he couldn't put a finger onto why. Now that you rejected his help twice, he needed to know what is wrong with you, he need you to accept is help.

"Go! Please go." You go on your own. You ran away. He immediately grip your wrist and pull you back into the bathroom and slam the door shut. He grip both your wrist in one hand and lock it in place above your head.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what is wrong with you." His patient is running thin. He glare at your weak and sickly figure. Your faces just inches apart. You look away as you panic to how close he is to you. You are a shaking and a blushing mess under him.

"Be a good girl and look at me." Dan Heng demanded. You comply. He realized that your face is all red and sweats dripping down your forehead. You are panting, hard, and drool leaking from your mouth. He suddenly see your fangs that he failed to notice in the past, or at least they weren't this sharp before.

"A- are you a... vampire?"

(It's over. He found out.) You thought.

"I uh... uhm..."

"Is this what you want?" Dan Heng raise his right wrist to your mouth. No, this is bad, so bad. His smell is taking over your brain. You could no longer control yourself. You open your jaws larger as he move his wrist right where your fangs are. You puncture his wrist with them and close your lips around it.

"Ngh" Dan Heng sigh in pain as you drink his blood. He slowly release your wrists from his grip and pat your head, encouraging you to drink more. With your free hands, you grip his arm tighter and closer to your mouth like a beggar who haven't eaten in days.

"Slow, slow now. I'm all yours."

This is my first ever fanfic. I got so carried away writing this. I'm sorry for any error.

Part 2 out

#dan heng x reader #vampire #dan heng #hsr #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x you #hsr x reader #star rail #honkai star rail

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awellboiledicicle · 1 year

Text

I feel like Arven would try his hand at growing the herba mystica in his dorm, have a problem, and refuse to ask for help until Protag and Co find him haunting the horticulture section of the library for the fifth straight day without sleep.

At which point Protag shrugs and suggests asking their mom, since she’s got a really big garden that’s growing super well.

Cut to Arven awkwardly having tea and thanking everything holy that he paid attention in Languages enough to understand when she jumps into Galarian on a word she doesn’t know in Paldaen. Protag is telling their mom about the herbs and their journey to find them, and even excitedly telling her about what the herbs did for Mabosstiff. Arven tries not to feel weird about the feelings that well up when she gives him a genuinely sympathetic look and apologizes that he had to go through that alone for so long. After he chokes out the ‘thank you’ in response, Protag rounds back to growing the herbs-- they could help people AND pokemon. And they should, which is why Arven is wary of, like, asking a commercial source for help. He’s not stupid, he knows the herbs would be skwovet’d away for who knows how long until they’re fully studied. And yeah, they should be studied, but he feels... like he should be involved. Some part of him wonders if its his parent’s influence in him, wanting a stake in finding out the why of it. Some part of it is his desire to make food that’s good for everyone. Right now, though, there’s not enough of the herbs to do much with anyway. Thus why they’re there.

Protag’s mom suggests a climate controlled greenhouse-- partially to simulate the environment each herb was found in, and partially to keep out wild pokemon to keep more titans from growing. Unfortunately, the greenhouse at the academy is full and it’s not like Arven has a place outside there where he can be to keep an eye on things. So she suggests they build it in the back garden of their house and Arven will “just have to visit to keep up with things”. Protag offers to split their room with him while they set up, so they don’t have to flying taxi back and forth every day--though they still can when normal classes are in progress.

First day there, though, Arven sleeps on the couch. Under a cozy blanket that smells like lavender, with a stomach full of home cooked food. Mabosstiff is curled up against the couch with his head on his paws, snoozing away. First break he spends there, he has his own bed and Protag’s mom knows what kind of foods he likes. The herbs are growing well, but somehow he’s more focused on the house, rather than the greenhouse. Mabosstiff has claimed the skwovet plush as his own, though he does begrudgingly share with Protag’s starter on occasion. By the time the herbs are ready to be harvested and studied, he’s a regular fixture. Spends holidays and weekends there, when not catching up on studies. His half of the room has his signature yellow aesthetic. There are bookcases of old notebooks Protag brought him from his parent’s lab--nothing about the crater per se, but things that had been moved down there and left behind. Copies of personal pokemon observations. Formula books with notes in the margins, an old journal that mentions getting a maschiff that bonded with baby Arven. Journals about him. He keeps them at the house so he can focus on school-- and so, if he reads them and gets worked up, he’ll know someone will hear him cry and snap him out of it.

There’s a point where a ‘family’ picture is being taken. He’s pulled in by Protag and their mom, insisting he and his pokemon count as family-- why wouldn’t he be in the photo? I think he’d probably be trying very hard not to cry, at least until the picture was taken.

I just feel like he could use being adopted.

#mok thoughts #pokemon #pokemon arven #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarlet and violet

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esamastation · 6 months

Text

Part forty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty

"... So there's Natural Materia that grows and evolves and eventually spawns an offspring of exactly identical Materia that can then make the exact same journey - and then there's Artificial Materia that… doesn't?"

"You're really asking the wrong person - Genesis is the expert," Angeal sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "But yeah, that's basically it? Artificial Materia can still level up a bit, but it doesn't evolve or make a copy of itself."

Sephiroth nods, fascinated. "So Natural Materia basically does mitosis?"

"I… don't know what that is?" Angeal says, sounding lost.

They're walking through the forest, in between random encounters - following a wide old footpath towards the charcoal burner's house. The path has the signs of wheeled traffic where the dirt has really been compacted, but it was a while ago, and grasses have started taking real estate on the path. Still, it makes for easier walking than the wild, untamed forest.

"It's when something - a cell - splits into two identical copies," Sephiroth explains.

"Ah, then no, that's not exactly it - the offspring Materia is unleveled and undeveloped. It has to be matured anew," Angeal clarifies.

"Still. Eventually the offspring Materia becomes identical to the parent. It's asexual reproduction, at least," Sephiroth muses, fascinated by how organic it all sounds. Like Materia is actually a breed of organism doing what all living things do - eat and reproduce. And artificial versions are basically infertile! "I bet Artificial Materia still needs to be somehow seeded by the natural sort."

Angeal shrugs, helpless. "You'd really have better luck asking Genesis. Maybe you should send him a message, asking about it."

"Maybe I will," Sephiroth says, determined, and then looks up. "Heads up - bugs."

One random encounter later, they're back to walking.

"You know, you could actually just try using your Materia," Angeal comments. "Might give you some insight on how it works. Or do you not remember how?"

Sephiroth waves a hand. "You just push energy through the thing, it's not that hard."

"Then why not do it?"

Because MP is Qi, kinda, and using Materia basically burns it away. Or, well, transforms it. Part of it goes into the Materia being used, aiding its maturation, and the rest of it is transformed into whatever spell the Materia is for. It's very easy to use and very powerful and incredibly energy inefficient. And since Sephiroth still isn't sure whether he wants to take in ambient energy in the way of the locals, he isn't sure his MP actually replenishes? And sure, he could take an Ether, a potion that replenishes MP - but that's basically like drinking raw Qi, and the very idea is a bit alarming.

There's just a scary level of energy transference going on in this place, and his core is unstable enough!

Also Sephiroth would rather figure out how to consume the Materia itself, like you'd consume spirit stones - except he really doesn't need any extra Qi at this point.

"Maybe later," Sephiroth says and looks ahead for a distraction. "Oh, hey, is that the house?"

Angeal gives him a look, amused, but lets it go and looks ahead too.

The charcoal burner's house is built near to the side of a mountain wall, with three enormous charcoal kilns half carved into the stone of the mountain. The house is more of a homestead, with a large area cleared and fenced, with the house itself in the middle, a couple of storage huts, a stall, and a big shelter for wood.

It's a bit rundown, though. One of the storage houses has its rooftop caved in, and there's long grass growing everywhere. The charcoal kilns look not just cold, but like something had been nesting in one of them.

"That's strange," Angeal murmurs warily, looking around. "It… doesn't look like anyone's been living here for a good long while."

"Hmm," Sephiroth hums, crouching down to examine a footprint in the dirt. It's fresh. "Someone has been here very recently, though." Someone in modern footwear - with treaded soles. Not that he knows what kind of footwear the people of Wutai favour, but, still…

Angeal looks at the footprint and hums. "Be on your guard. There's something weird going on in here."

Cautious, they examine the place and find no signs of any monster attacks. What they do find is more footprints, all by the same set of shoes, going strong in the place and by all appearances checking out the buildings.

"Looking for something, maybe?" Angeal murmurs as they consider the footprints.

"Hmm. I don't see any signs of monsters," Sephiroth comments. "Didn't the mission files say the place was already attacked? Maybe we're in the wrong place."

"Maybe…"

While Angeal checks their mission files and coordinates to confirm they're actually in the right house, Sephiroth tries to figure out why it was abandoned in the first place. It wasn't sudden, that he can tell - whoever lived here had the time to pack up. Everything that's left was put away very neatly, too.

"Well, this is the right place," Angeal says, following him inside. "Either they got the coordinates wrong - or the intelligence."

"I guess it could be a trap," Sephiroth muses, poking around the charcoal burner's old office in search of any paperwork. "If this is really where an informant once lived, maybe that informant turned into a double agent and set a trap."

"You really think so?" Angeal asks, sounding more interested than alarmed.

"Not really," Sephiroth shrugs and picks up a crumpled piece of paper, someone's attempt at a letter that had gotten ruined by an ink smear. Gently he spreads it out on the office table to read. "Or else it's a terrible trap…"

The letter is addressed to someone's uncle, informing them of the charcoal burner's good fortune. Apparently their family had been invited by the emperor to live and work in the capital. Lucky guy.

"Maybe we should prepare for an ambush, just in case," Angeal comments thoughtfully, adjusting his gloves. "What do you think?"

"I think they would've revealed themselves already, if it was the case," Sephiroth says. "And this is a terrible place for an ambush anyway. It's far too open."

"Well, good thing it's not an ambush!" a voice calls from the outside before Angeal can answer.

"... Sounds like something an ambusher would say," Angeal mutters, clearly recognizing the voice, and Sephiroth chuckles.

Reno waits for them outside, lazily scratching at a bug bite on his arm. "Congratulations, you have been summarily recruited for a secret Turk mission," he says and motions around them. "Your station."

"Turk mission?" Angeal repeats. "It was you who sent out that mission file?"

"Yep," Reno agrees, shrugging unrepentantly.

Sephiroth watches him warily. He'd not interacted with Reno or Rude much, Angeal had kinda covered for him there. He'd not entirely sure why the Turks followed them to Wutai. Maybe this is it.

Maybe this is as far as he gets, before having to commit, one way or the other.

Sephiroth braces himself. "What's the mission?"

Reno grins and points a finger at him. "Your mission, starting right now, is to stay here," he says, "And get your shit together."

Man I've missed ff7 world so much. The whole magic system from Lifestream to Materia to summoning world ending Meteors from the sky is just 😗👌

I'm playing og ff7 while writing and none of the sequelsprequelsremakes come even close to comparing with how delicious Materia in the original game is.

#Fanfiction #Ff7 #ffvii #svsss #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #angeal hewley #reno of the turks #shen yuan

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joannasteez · 9 months

Text

lavender based

pairing: roman reigns x black reader summary/warning: you've catered to his bruises long enough he thinks, wanting desperately to have you in his arms. | smut. hints of fluff. minors do not interact. explicit descriptions, 18+ word count: 2k music inspo: comfortable by h.e.r

it was a massage. sure tender hands running into his skin with a deep enough pressure to lull him into the fondest sense of security. a sweet burning incense curling up free and lavender oil smooth over reddened tawny welts and some day old scars. and if he could, he'd reach up, flex his core easy and push his lips up to yours to kiss the pout of them away. but you're determination proceeds any of the more amorous wants plaguing him. a feverish rush simmering through the run of his blood. its a fast sure course through his fingers to the steady hardness between his legs. and you can feel him there, stirring excited, more impatient by the second. it was a massage, but you weren't sure how long he would last.

he's smooth and clever, stains his fingers with the memory of your skin, palm coaxing a throbbing in your spine as it takes the journey to your nape. roman rests on the strength of an elbow. whisper's "c'mere", and revels in the leisure burning brown haze of your eyes.

he moans, your tongue licking at the seam of his lips till they pass to push against his own. and it's funny, he thinks he has you, as you take to a sloppy kiss. something light and pitchy singing from your throat when he bites. tenses his teeth to tease your bottom lip. he thinks he has you good, stowed away in the hard set of his arms, your breath hurried and impatient when he breaks from you just to rush in again. but its all game and tactic. the slowest dance.

your nails run a little with pain at their tips, trailing his neck till his own spine throbs in their wake. but nothing feels better than the wrap of them about his throat. barely pressured but your hand there all the same, feeling his pulse, as the other cradles his head.

a short tug at the root and he's a mess of groans. clawing further into your waist till you're grinding into his lap.

your lips break but stay just close enough to share breaths.

you tsk. "this was supposed to be relaxing. your body is still healing"

he hums. falls, bringing you with him into a nest of pillows. palms slipping slow over exposed supple skin, meticulous, till something flares in the brown of his eyes, and then he's clawing in till you're roughed into him further. "you touch me the way you do and expect me to behave".

your thumb reaches to soothe slow over tempting lips. a sweet caress as the lavender coaxes you to settle further into his embrace. "i just wanna see you better. hate it when you get hurt like this".

"i'm alright", and you think he's never been so sure of anything. kisses against your fingers, your palm, and then back to your mouth. simple and sweet as he rolls over to continue. tongue and lips working in tandem till you're moaning and melting into the fluff of the sheets. " 'm alright enough to touch you", his tongue curling before it runs flat to lick your at nipple. “taste you”. lips catching to suck gentle. and the feeling is good to him, the bud rolling over easy. more so even when you pull his head in gentle for more, as if you'd ever have to ask. you'd never have to plead even, unless you wanted to. and just after he breaks, he pulls at the bud, teasing with his teeth. "alright enough to hold you". and he finds himself just at the other side, his tongue soothing over wet and more persistent than before. bordering closer and closer to that fine line of feral-ness.

he hadn't seen you in sometime. constantly on the go, in cars, on planes, from city to city, till he was done, and then after that he was out of country and that distance only made the ache for him worse. and the ache for you just as unbearable.

so you understand the burden, that wild edge to his touch. pushing and prying at your hot skin, hands ripping at the dainty sodden fabric of your panties. and you smell good, his nose breathing in, followed by the run of his tongue just at that plain of skin where your inner thigh folds. and something like possession corrals in him, forces his mouth to water and his tongue to taste. ardent and masterful, measured, like he's remembering you. a firm wet slip up till he's catching the nub of your clit. and then he remembers, why he aches so much, in hotel rooms across the country and the sea, flits his eyes up to see what a sweet mess he's made of you so far and remembers everything.

"baby girl, you're beautiful y'know that?"

he breathes warm over you, and it has you clenching about nothing, his words slipping a silly grin into your lips. "if i didn't, i know now".

"need you to know it everyday".

wet kisses at the underside of your thighs, thumbs holding at the bend of your knees till he's back where you need him most.

and fuck is it perfect. an untainted bliss. his tongue a firm caress as his mouth closes in to suckle. raven hair like a veil as it falls around him. groans harsh. desperate and chest deep, resonating till it rides the course just under your skin. beard rubbing your flesh raw, and your spine throbs again, so much so till an arch fights its way there and you cry. whispered chants, fuck fuck fuck, your nails finding their way to the hair at his nape, tugging but pushing, overwhelmed but needing more.

your hips roll into his mouth. a slow grind that catches his steady rhythm.

you sob just slightly, releasing the tightness in your chest, but it seems inefficient when he pushes your legs further apart. breaks only to lay his fat tongue at your slit. the tip curling artful, pushing into a rhythm of gentle strokes against slick walls. a soft savoring as he traps your clit between his thumb and fore finger to remedy the pulsing ache.

the drive of him is more methodical than not but forever underscored by a ready to burst primal urge. him, the rhythm, it's something dynamic and it shakes you down till you're quivering hard.

and theres the beginnings of a soreness in your throat. a raspy moan that forces his hips to rut against the sheets. searching for some mild form of relief.

"mhmm, please rome", a mewl, and it's featherweight, disjointed. surges into his nerves this restless need to see you undone.

you tremble, a harsh bursting that treks over nerve and skin. a white heat that falls, a rushing in and a pulling away fast. release beating hard and unforgiving into your blood. but still his tongue swipes, along your slit till it flicks its way to the fat of your clit. a slow sweeping roll before he's pulling up and away to kiss wet at your mouth. less measured and lazy. his hair wild, your fingers pulling away fallen strands as you lap at his tongue to have a taste. it makes him rut again, clothed but hard still. painfully so as you continue to lap and suck at his tongue. teeth tensing the seam of his lips the way he does as often as he can.

he grows sloppy in the kiss, seemingly more needy, less attentive to the natural ways he controls the pace. your legs take to wrapping around his waist just as you break from his lips, a thin silky string of spit the only thing connecting raw, kiss swollen mouths. he licks out to take it in, that fine wet connecting string , till its riding the seam of your mouth again, waiting for access.

and he's huge, strength more fierce than you remember it being, but he's sure to remind you as he pulls up to sit his knees into the bed. a relaxed kneeling position as you wrap secure about him, waiting for more of whatever he has to give you. and he steels his breathing, pushes at the constraints of his underwear till he's free and stiffening more against the cooler air. a single arm holding you up high along his chest and the other pulling hard strokes at his cock. a groaning "fuck", flowing between the both of you as he teases the dripping head at your clit.

"missed this", you give him. words falling into the freckles at his cheek as he teases the slick mess of your slit, hands nailing into the fat of your ass, a hard grip, as he grinds your pussy against him. marveling wild at the slipping sensation, a mess and a half of moans, till he's too ravaged to take more teasing done by his own hand. but your at his ear still, whispering. "missed you fucking me".

" 'm here now", he roughs out. widens the part of his knees. for more stability, more room to take you.

"mhmm", uncontrolled and sweet from your throat. realizing just what he's doing as he grips his hands tighter before bringing you down for a vicious stroke.

and the easy slip of you makes his chest huff deep, skin taking a sticky wet mold to his as he digs in and stretches you to take to the hilt, a milder form of a roughing as he feeds hard into you. teetering still on that line where patience ends and primal urges begin, as you cling to him. wet and warm, and so good for him. each down swing he moves your hips into birthing the sweetest lewd smacking at his skin. the hard front of his waist and lap soaked, pelvis hitting just right at the open spread of your slit enough to catch a dragging at your clit.

and it goes like this for some time, both you stewing in the heat of the day as he lays claim to you once again, after so much time and distance, and you to him, biting at the tough skin of his shoulder for some sort of reprieve from the building tension.

your clit flutters. ready for another release. a small cry, the well of a single tear, and hes nudging firm, catching sweet at the spot that leaves you moaning and breathless. an unshakeable stir in your core, nails tempted to indent the wide set of his back, but your settle for a lazy swing of arms around his neck. not wanting to injure him more than he is already.

"ahhaa fuck". breath catching with another release.

a tight drooling spasm against his cock. his hips rutting desperate for more, a firm clench against him again that nearly drives him to swoon. " that pussy gets so messy when you come", he growls.

and you hum, long and weak, flexing against him again. taut enough to stir the coiling in his core. lips taking his into some slow disjointed kiss. molding together till it's broken apart for breath, leaving you to suck and tease at him.

the sheets grow sodden, more as he ruts his hips and drags deep. digging into you hard, fire in the heat of his hands. fingers pulling, tugging and spreading, slipping lower to cup against the undersides of your thighs to pry your pussy open and over him. a mean growl toughing up out his chest as he fights to keep that steady downward stroke of your hips.

"you're good for me baby girl", words falling along your skin. "so good".

he stirs, roughs you into a grind as he comes undone. mumbling and groaning incoherently. curses and praise s that flow natural into a breathy silence.

he works to still the raging in his chest. breathing into your neck and falling into the smoothening your touch gives the wild shuddering that takes to his nerves.

you fall with him, a gentle bounce as you lay atop him along the sheets. dripping in you still with a growing softness. skin sticky and hot to the touch but sated. air breezy and cool as it curls in, pushing past the sway of curtains.

he can smell the lavender still on your skin, at the tips of your fingers as he kisses them. folds his fingers into yours, soothing over the patch of skin there.

it was a massage. something better now.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader #sorry if it suck #LMAOOOOO #haven’t written smut in a while #roman reigns smut #joannasteez

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yourlocaltreesimp · 7 months

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*insert And Another One meme*

Can I. Request a yandere chain with a reader who gifts them flowers just because they can? Or like, them just subtly courting the chain for a change? (minus wind, who they just flat out spoils because he's babey even though he's a gremlin)

And when I say court, I mean like in ways that they're probably not familiar with? Like, the reader makes up a bs excuse about needing their help to see if they can still sing because then rusty, and then singing love songs to them but it's in a language they can't recognize?

Or like, doing tasks for them? Basically acts of service, since that's an old way of courting from my country that can be easily mistaken for them being helpful, but they're just generally more careful and going above and beyond what's asked for them?

- altumsomnum (forgot to add it in the other asks lmao)

Ofc, ofc I think I miss understood the prompt, but take this in case!

TW:ok well there’s some obsession and yandere as expected, blood mentione

Oh how the mighty fall

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’d recently found yourself in quite the predicament. Not necessarily a bad one… Just, odd. Long letters of prose and poetry sealed with royal blue wax from Warriors carefully dancing around his plans to stab the others and run off with you. Quiet afternoons curled up as Sky plays you music keeping you safe and distracted as the others slit the throat of the merchant that insulted you. Ranting to Four about whatever interest snagged your mind, he’d listen for hours at your every beck and call, no matter if the sentiment wasn’t returned. Strolling around villages with Time, knowing you’re safest at his side though you didn’t know how deep their feelings went, they’d do anything at your order. Twilight teaching you how to ride a horse, sharing what knowledge he knew you’d benefit from but also so you wouldn’t be near the fight. Fresh hot meals and deserts from Wild, with some added ingredients to let you sleep so they deal with business. Reading with Hyrule in a calm clearing, uninterrupted by the others but he knows the more time you spend together, the easier it’ll be when he steals you away. Sparring with Legend, finally free to move and fight as the others do as he gauges your strength to see how hard you can fight back.

You supposed the real question was why? You didn’t do anything odd or particularly of note. In comparison to the other options they had (there were none, as if anyone could pretend they held light to your sheer divinity) you felt dim by comparison. Sure, you wanted their affection (you already had them, so much blood has been spilled in your name, their reason for living is found within your company) but between yourself and the incarnation of a goddess fool to think she’s worthy of comparison you didn’t know what prompted their behaviour. It was only until you caught a passing conversation from a village girl to her friend that you realised your fatal mistake. This wasn’t Earth. Looking back on your behaviours you felt embarrassed. You’d spent hours reading and writing poetry with Warriors when you found his passion in it. You didn’t question the blush on his cheeks when you read his poetry on love- you knew he loved the romance novels. You asked Sky to play his harp when you were doing chores and even got in the habit of singing softly when you found yourself willing. You turned a blind eye to the look of sheer endearment and adoration when you looked up from whatever you busied yourself with. You’d listened to Four go on and on about the Minish after he found their numbers dwindled in the future. He’d cried, you held him, he went on and on about each and every tiny detail of his journey, pouring his heart out in a way that he was only ever used to doing when split. You welcomed him with open arms the next time he asked if you could talk. You ran whatever errands with Time that he asked, knowing his aversion to such large crowds with no company. You thought the silent agreement to stick with one another in busy cities was forged in the mistrust of the environment you found yourself surrounded with, not out of any further attraction. You entertained the idea of learning to ride a horse to get closer with the group, bridge the gap the lay between you. You didn’t catch Twilight as he noted how quickly you caught on, how easily you’d adapt to Ordon, especially with your compassion. You helped Wild with the cooking mainly because you wanted to be useful, but from what you’ve seen, he always managed to make simple tasks entertaining. He, meanwhile, was falling over himself at the fact that someone is willing to help him, let alone out of the goodness of their heart, let alone you who he’d lay down lives for. Reading with Rulie so you could learn a little more about their lives and culture as he saw you preparing to live out the rest of your days in the Hyrules. Asking Leg for help fighting because you knew he’d be the only one who wouldn’t hold back, while he enjoyed being closer with you, having the excuse to finally be near you without any glares. Looking back, you see why they acted as they did.

BONUS:

In long and short, the chain did a lot for you, for your affections. And it really began to bother you that they never accepted anything in return. They never took thanks, for it is what was ‘expected’ of courting, and yet you felt as if there was more to be done. And so, you decided on a plan. You’d simply have to be stubborn. It was rewarding to see blushes tinting their cheeks as they read the letters you’d written for them in turn. Watching their eyes light up as you goth them all jewellery, tokens that they treasured more than anything Hylia had given them. Finding excuses to take them all on dates and seeing their hearts squeeze.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #yandere linked universe #link x reader #link x you #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #x reader #yandere link x reader #firreplies #fir’s library

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itsabouttimex2 · 7 days

Note

Plot twist: the moment d!reader is set free from both of the circles at the end of the journey, they dissapear into the night, never to be seen again...or not.

I'm sorry i just, as much as i love yanderes, i want to see them suffer. At least a bit.

Ps. You're an amazing writer and i really enjoy your fics. Also, you really helped in getting my friend into yandere, so thank you for that🙂

Taken Aboard:

Running Away

(I’m super glad that you enjoy my fics! And I’m glad your friends enjoys them, too! Yandere is a really fun trope to play with!)

So, in the case that you do pull a runner at the end of this long and arduous journey, Y/N… your biggest enemy is now yourself.

Because, as hard as you might have tried to fight it, you have been civilized. You have grown accustomed to society. You have started to care. This journey has changed and bettered you, as it has all your companions.

You are no longer a mere demon tending to monsters great and mighty, no more a child planting seeds and spreading spores.

You can’t ever go back to being the wild little creature you once were.

If you’ve ever read Gilgamesh, I’d say Enkidu is a good comparison for your development. After he’s been ‘civilized’ by Shamhat, Enkidu can no longer return to the home he knows and loves, the animals who once accepted him now fleeing on sight.

Now, if you leave before the journey’s end…

You run, devastated and distraught that so much of yourself is gone and lost, never to be reclaimed. The forest may not be the home you know, but some part of it is still familiar.

You purge the hunters and loggers who have taken up residence within the Emerald Grove, violently spilling their nourishing blood across the hungry soil, pitch their flesh into the mouths of ravenous beasts.

It doesn’t make you feel better- you know that at least some of these men and women were trying to feed themselves, their children.

But at least the forest is newly quiet, contented by a fresh meal, leaving you in peace to mourn.

As for hoping to ‘never being seen again’…

Sun Wukong’s Golden Vision has a little something to say about that.

Within hours he’s stalking back to the Emerald Grove in a huff, hauling his way up the tallest tree he can find and unhappily making his way over to you.

The Great Sage snatches you off the bark and tosses you over his shoulder, clambering down the tree as you kick and scream. You demand to be released and removed from the group, biting and pounding your fists agains his invulnerable back.

“Being naughty today, bud? Here I was, thinking you had finally gotten past this ‘running back home’ phase.”

“I am not a baby,” you scream, digging your teeth into the base of his spine with all your demonic might. “PUT ME DOWN!”

You manage to draw just a few drops of blood, not that it phases the simian. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re making things harder for all of us, you know that? And you keep setting us back with all the running away nonsense. But I had Master call a certain someone up to maybe settle this for us all, bud.”

Against your angry protests and endless assault does the Great Sage drag you back to camp, switching to hold you in his arms instead of over his back.

Immediately do your screams of anger turn to pained wails, the sound of a holy sutra hitting your eyes. The blessed bands around your wrists tighten, scraping the skin they compress to rawness.

And before you stands not only the holy monk who tricked you into wearing these golden hoops, but the goddess who gave them to him.

“Sun Wukong, please place the child down,” she lightly instructs, her tone even and polite. “Might I speak to them for a moment?”

The Handsome Monkey King obeys, nudging your towards the goddess after he releases his grip on you.

Guanyin comes to you slowly, kneeling to take your face into her soft and gentle hands.

And you bite her.

“You- you call yourself a goddess,” you scream, fangs wet with her divine ichor. “Of mercy and compassion! But all you do is hand out tools of torture and punishment! I wanted to stay in my forest! I wanted to stay with my friends! A hard shove, nearly knocking her over. “And you helped Sanzang take me away! You gave him these awful bands and he pretended they were gifts to get me to put them on! But they weren’t! And you let him! And now he uses them to hurt me! I hate you! I hate him! I hate all of you!”

Finally you collapse, sobbing openly into your hands.

Tang Sanzang watches in horror as heavenly blood feeds the ground, causing new and gorgeous growth to break from the soil, flowers blooming in massive clusters.

Wukong seethes that you could be so disrespectful to the one and only god he actually cares for, the only one he finds to be tolerable and kind.

Everyone else just recoils in both fear and hurt, your last words ringing painfully in the ears.

But Guanyin approaches once more, kneeling to level herself with you. There is no retribution or anger in her touch, placing a light kiss onto your forehead.

“You’re right, aren’t you? This journey has not been easy, nor has it been kind- and for you especially, perhaps it has been cruel. And I too, have been unkind to dabble in your affairs. Will you allow me to ease the burdens of your travel?”

From a silk pouch does she procure a mirror, pushing it into your shaking hands.

“My child, I give to you this heavenly mirror, which has been forged from blessed steel and holy sand melted to glass by dragonfire. To look upon it will show you your beloved forest, and all those you have left behind.”

———————————————————————-

Now, this is super important- Y/N’s involvement in the journey is incredibly unfair. The others come because they seek personal growth or redemption, but Y/N?

They had to come. They were tricked into thinking those golden tightening bands were gifts and eagerly asked Sanzang to help put them on, jumping up and down in excitement at receiving something so pretty. The only reason they agreed to wear these ‘generously’ gifted bands was because they thought it was an honest gift.

So there’s already a sense of betrayal about the whole thing, that their first gift from anyone was actually just a trap to pull them along on a lengthy and dangerous journey.

Then, where the others were either entirely willing (Sanzang) or had to redeem themselves for crimes or mistakes (Wukong), Y/N was forced to come along with their worst crimes being: fighting off invaders and killing poachers. And all for that, they are ripped from home and forced to leave behind everything they’ve ever known and loved.

And Guanyin does three things here:

1. Acknowledges your anger/sorrow.

2. Validates your feelings without hesitation.

3. Actively works to soothe them.

With the mirror in hand, you can look upon the Emerald Grove and see your old animal friends, know that they’re safe even without you, and put your fears to rest.

It’s not perfect.

But it’s a good start to get you to actually care about these pilgrims, given that you don’t spend every night in flurry of nightmares, thinking fitfully of your beloved forest.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Tang Sanzang #Yandere Sun Wukong #Guanyin #Taken Aboard #Journeyfam

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