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riaki · 6 months

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moneyload | satoru gojo x reader (implied fem)

this is for @satoruoo + everyone who’s tired of my angst | 1k wc

satoru likes spoiling you.

no— like would be the world's greatest understatement. satoru feels about spoiling you the way he feels about you— he doesn’t just like you, he‘s utterly enamored with you. if you asked, he'd move mountains for you. or give up a portion of his candy; both are equitable in his bright eyes. he loves you so much that he'd skip a basketball session with suguru or leave in the middle of the fight to throw the leftover scraps of a cursed spirit to whoever was unlucky enough to be there at the time; you're more important. you've always been.

yeah, that’s gotta be it. a perfect way to paint his feelings for you on a pure canvas brightened by your smile, light as a feather and lively as the sun. and you're completely deserving, he thinks— you, who's always been so patient and kind with him.

as such, he thinks it’s a crime to waste such a beautiful figure on things less than lavish dress and delicate jewelry; but to be honest, he thinks you could don a potato sack and still make it look exquisite. nevertheless, each time you protest when he drapes another dainty necklace glittering with gems cut from a million-dollar wallet and 58 facets (all the reasons he loves you— that's what he calls them.), he shushes you promptly with a swift, sweet kiss; you get a noseful of his expensive cologne every time he sidles up to you and gets comfortable. which, for the record, is quite often.

out of everything he gets you; bouquets of beautiful speckled flowers that look as if a painter dumped their entire palette of pastels and pretties onto the petals, sweet chocolates dark with the tiniest amount of cherry liquor in the center ("i don't need them— i already get drunk off of you, sweetheart!"), fragrant perfume or the latest comfortable clothing that catches his eye (this one's less common. he likes it better when you're only in his clothes.), jewelry is the one he always finds his way back to the most often.

why? well, if you ask him— there's nothing better than being sprawled on your couch with his head in your lap, nuzzling into your warm hand as he catches a whiff of the perfume he gifted you last week paired with the reddest rose he could find on your wrist. your hands card through his hair, and he uses the opportunity to catch your arm before you can move any further, giving you a smug grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

(it's a little embarrassing the amount of times you've thought he was going to propose from that alone.)

you'll open it, and it'll be a pretty silver necklace that matches the one around his neck, or a gold ring with ornate details that he slips onto your fingers after taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile and a laugh. sometimes it's a bracelet adorned with rich jewels the color of your eyes; maybe something rose quartz to represent the flush on his cheeks you always seem to elicit or a marigold yellow to show the pure joy he gets from being around you. if you ask him about it, he'll just say, "i wasn't kidding when i said i get drunk off of you, baby." with a boyish giggle that's far too charming to not have been used in his younger years to get his way and a sweet little wink of an afterthought that has your heart racing.

on the occasions when the gift is far less... appropriate, you'll always sigh and chastise him with a shake of your head because you both know the fabric will be torn to shreds in a matter of a few minutes. he does it anyway, though. he's always been a little bit of a brat in that sense.

whatever it ends up as, satoru absolutely adores seeing your reactions; the cute flush on your cheeks when you accept it with a little thanks and a kiss to his cheek, leaning forward on the tips of your toes because he's too tall for his own good. maybe even to hook a finger around the bridge of his sunglasses for lips to lips, if he's lucky. of course, he knows he doesn't have to buy your affection— you've made that abundantly clear in moments he doesn't like to think about as anything more than vulnerability when he's worn out, but there's just something about you that makes him want to pile it on. he's always had more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.

and maybe, just maybe— one day he'll dare to hope for a future past school hallways, flattering dresses and skirts or sneaky kisses when he's a little sweaty and his jacket is in your arms and you're on the bleachers, hijacking shoko's pack of cigarettes while the squeak of shoes on the gym floor and the sound of a basketball rattling in the hoop fills your ears. past nights when you're curled up in his arms and he can comfortably rest his head in the crook of your neck, tucked away where it always should be (and always will be).

he'll hope for days when he gets to wake up to you by his side, a silver band with so much more meaning than the fifth one he's given you that week on your ring finger and a matching one on his own, because satoru loves you so much that he'd empty out the vaults of a bank just to make you smile at him. not in the hollow way his father always had at home, or in the obligatory resolute smiles of the servants on his estate, but in a genuine way; a way no one else (except his mom) had ever come close to because if he sold everything he ever had for you, his world would still be right in front of him, holding his hands and kissing his face in spontaneous bursts of love, like shooting stars dancing across his cheeks as a way of thanks.

...so, maybe satoru likes spoiling you so much because you always seem to return tenfold.

if u looked at my search history you'd see 'how many cuts does a diamond have' and 'what are the chocolates with alcohol in them called' my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

#i caved (again!!!!)#this has been sitting in my notes app for like a month oopsies #breathe the fresh air. be blinded by the sun and smell the grass (me @ this drabble)#have more gojo fluff!!!! i have plenty to give #now i scuttle away to work on my christmas special #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #billet-doux #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk scenarios #i tbink this is the most i’ve edited for a banner yet oops #- rs !

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luveline · 7 months

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I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?

thanks lovely💗

Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid.

He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden.

"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?"

"I'm good."

"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?"

The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you.

"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?"

You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping."

"They look perfect to me," Spencer says.

You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?"

Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it."

"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag."

Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch.

He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at.

"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?"

"You can tell?" he asks.

"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?"

"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff."

"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?"

Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous.

Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters.

"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?"

You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it."

Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible."

Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there.

You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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erwinsvow · 2 months

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“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”

“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”

“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”

“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”

“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.

“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”

“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it?

there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.

“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.

“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.

“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.

“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.

“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.

“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”

“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.

“serious. i’d never lie to you.”

you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf.

“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.

you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince.

rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.

your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday.

you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it.

later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill.

“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.

you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.

you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.

“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.

“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too.

“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”

“i know. y’should stop that.”

“or you can stop first.”

“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”

“okay. i will.”

“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.

#rafe being soft with shy reader..... nothing better in this world #hints of pogue reader toooo dipping my toes in #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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libraryofgage · 8 months

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Pirate/Mermaid Steddie One

There is way more mermaid culture world-building than I intended, but that's the fun part lmao

This part discusses injuries, has a mention of mutilation in passing, and involves stitching up a large wound. Nothing is graphic, but there are some descriptions of pain

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

----

There were a few things Eddie expected from this raid. Gold, of course. Supplies like food, obviously. Some new weapons, surely.

A fucking mermaid? Nowhere near that list of expected things.

And yet, here he stands in the doorway of the raided ship captain's cabin, caught in a staring contest with a merman that's definitely seen better days.

He's stuck in a tiny wooden tub, his tail forced against his chest as the rest of it flops over the edge and trails the floor. His blue-and-green with inexplicable hints of orange scales are dull, too dull, and Eddie is trying really hard to control the sheer rage he feels at the jagged cut that drags down the middle of the tail and through the fin at the bottom. The edges of the wound have crusted over, but it still looks painful, and Eddie knows it was meant to keep the merman from using his tail to escape.

Eddie takes a step into the cabin, ready to just scoop the merman up and take him back to his ship. But he stops when the merman tenses, his entire body somehow becoming more rigid. His hands on the edge of the tub tighten, his sharp nails digging into the slowly rotting wood. He's staring at Eddie like he's some new threat, which seriously is not gonna help with the whole "take the gorgeous merman with incredible hair and alluring brown eyes back to his ship and nurse him back to health" thing.

Eddie freezes and holds his hands up. "Sorry," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The merman doesn't relax much, but his nails are no longer digging into the wood. Eddie figures that's a tiny win.

"I'm Captain Eddie of the Corroded Coffin. We didn't expect to find you here, sweetheart."

The nickname just slips out, an unthinking attempt to butter the merman up and an admission of his own thoughts. The merman's eyes narrow, slowly looking Eddie over as though sizing him up.

Eddie lets him, perfectly content with standing still if it means the merman will give him even one iota more of his trust. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he says, nodding to the tub. "Would you like some help?"

The merman relaxes a little more, and Eddie has no clue what he did to cause that. Before he can think too much about it, the merman points to a dresser on the other side of the room, looking at Eddie expectantly.

"You want something from there?"

The merman nods, which tells Eddie he at least understands human language. That doesn't give him any idea if the merman can speak it, though.

He walks over to the dresser and looks at the merman, pointing to each drawer in turn until the merman nods. The fourth drawer is, apparently, the correct one. When Eddie opens it, he finds a small treasure trove. It must be a collection of trophies from the ship captain's previous raids.

A quick glance reveals a gold crown with rubies, several diamond rings, a few silver bracelets with various gemstones along the bands, and a pearl and seashell necklace thrown on top. Eddie knows the merman probably wants that necklace most, but he can't help thinking of a rumor that mermaids like shiny things.

The drawer is full of shiny things.

He hesitates for less than a second before pulling out the entire drawer itself and turning around. "I'm not sure what you want from here," he lies, smiling apologetically at the merman. "Can I come close enough to show you?"

The merman stares at him before slowly nodding once, suspicion practically radiating off of him. Eddie flashes a more genuine smile and slowly approaches, giving the merman enough time to reject his presence. When he's a few steps away, Eddie crouches and tilts the drawer so the merman can see what's inside.

Immediately, the merman reaches out and snatches the pearl and seashell necklace. The gills on the side of his neck flutter slightly as he puts it on, and Eddie wonders if that's a sign of relief. "Was that everything you wanted?" he asks.

The merman glances at him, one hand still lingering on the necklace. He glances down at the drawer again, seeming to argue with himself before reaching out and removing the crown and every bracelet. He carefully slips the bracelets on and clutches the crown in his hands.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks, his tone indulgent. It must be reassuring, though, because the merman looks at him with curiosity more than anything else. It's like he's trying to figure out what he can get away with.

A few seconds pass before the merman glances down at the drawer. His gaze lingers at the edges, and Eddie starts to wonder what could possibly be there when the merman points at one of his rings.

Eddie blinks, following the merman's finger to a chunky ring. It's shaped like a bat with emeralds for eyes and diamonds for teeth. It's one of Eddie's favorites; he found it on his first raid, took it right off the captain's hand himself. Nobody has ever dared ask to touch it, let alone have it.

Without a second thought, Eddie puts the drawer down, slips the ring off his finger, and offers it to the merman. It sits in the palm of his hand, meaning they'd have to touch if the merman really wants it that badly.

Slowly, the merman reaches for the ring, his nails tickling against Eddie's palm as he takes it. From the light brush against Eddie's fingers, the merman's skin is cool, exactly like jumping into the ocean on a hot day.

----

Steve is a firm believer in the power of small comforts, especially as it relates to the growth of his guppies. Dustin has long outgrown his baby tail belt, but he still wraps it around his wrist every morning. El and Will no longer need the seaweed and coral dolls Steve made for them when they were barely able to swim a straight line, but they still tuck them in every night.

So, when the human (Eddie, Steve reminds himself) offers up a drawer filled with shiny jewelry, Steve doesn't hold himself back. The bracelets make him feel grounded, the crown gives him something to clutch without the risk of breaking it, and the ring...

Well, the ring was more to see if Eddie's actions would match his tone. And because Steve thought it was fascinatingly grotesque. What kind of creature would have wings without feathers? Sure, the gulls he sometimes sees near the surface are confusing, but the ring depicts something even further beyond his imagination. What's up with the sharp teeth? Why must the eyes be green? Does it know it's a freak of nature?

Anyway, the jewelry helps. Steve uses it to distract himself from the sheer agony screaming from his tail when Eddie lifts him out of the cramped tub. He thinks about which bracelet he'll give to which guppy (Robin will get the crown) when the edges of his tailfin graze against Eddie's legs as he confidently walks across a plank connecting the two ships. He closely studies the featherless wings on the ring to avoid thinking about what's to come when Eddie sets him down on a large, surprisingly comfortable bed in another private cabin and starts gathering a needle and thread.

There's not much left to distract him when Eddie kneels next to the bed and looks up at him, his eyes reminding Steve of his guppies when they've done something bad and need him to clean up the mess.

"This is gonna hurt," Eddie tells him, his voice soft and gentle and full of regret as he grabs a bottle from the table next to the bed.

The liquid inside is clear, and Steve would think it was water if his nose hadn't been hit with such an astringent scent when Eddie opened it. Before he can fully process the smell, Eddie tips the bottle and pours the liquid onto Steve's tail.

An involuntary screech rips out of his throat, a burning sensation clawing along the cut and making his scales buzz. Without thinking, Steve grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks it away, his lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals sharp teeth. Despite the physical pain, Steve thinks the worst part is that he let himself get distracted by small comforts and warm brown eyes and Eddie's soft voice.

He should know better.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, quickly dropping the now-empty bottle to the floor. It cracks but doesn't break, and he looks up at Steve. "I should've explained that better. Holy fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I had to clean it. If I sewed it up without doing so, it might get infected."

Steve narrows his eyes, his grip tightening briefly as he studies Eddie's face. He seems genuinely apologetic, and Steve understands his intentions once he's processed Eddie's words. Steve had to do something similar when Mike and Lucas bothered a shark too much. Their wounds weren't nearly as bad as Steve's, but they'd still cried and shouted when Steve and Robin had to pull teeth and bits of coral out of their wounds before wrapping them in seaweed.

"I'm done with that part, though," Eddie says, his voice practically desperate for Steve to understand. "You can squeeze my shoulder or something while I sew it up."

A few seconds pass before Steve nods once, slowly letting go of Eddie's wrist. As Eddie starts threading the needle, Steve places his hand on his shoulder, bracing himself for the upcoming pain by squeezing the crown in his other hand.

Eddie takes a deep breath as he glances up at Steve. He licks his lips, looking back at the top of the cut. "Okay, I'm starting now," he says, waiting long enough to see Steve nod before starting the first stitch.

The alcohol hurt. The stitching is a fucking bitch. But, honestly, none of it is as bad as when that first disgusting human dragged a dagger through Steve's tail. He still hisses, gripping Eddie's shoulder tighter and unable to stop his nails from digging into his skin. Despite how it must hurt, Eddie doesn't flinch, and Steve feels a little better.

"You know," Eddie says, mostly focused on keeping his hand steady and his stitches even, "I wish I knew your name. I can't keep calling you sweetheart."

He could. Steve wouldn't mind it. But he also knows it isn't entirely fair that Eddie doesn't know he can speak. They'll need to be able to talk, Steve thinks, if they're going to be around each other for a while longer.

And Eddie has been kind enough that Steve wouldn't mind being around him for however long it takes his tail to heal.

"Steve," he says.

To his credit, Eddie doesn't drop the needle. He does tense for a moment, his hand pausing as he looks up. "What?" he asks.

"My name. It's Steve."

"You can talk."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Eddie hums, looking back at the cut as he starts stitching again. "You didn't say anything before," Eddie says.

"The last human who saw me mutilated my tail," Steve replies.

"Fair. Is, uh, is your name really Steve?"

"That's the closest translation to your language."

"What's your name in your language?"

Steve hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. He feels his gills flutter, trying to create the bubble pattern that accompanies his name as he lets out a rhythmic series of squeaks and clicks with a short hiss at the end.

A few seconds pass after he's done. And then Eddie nods once and says, "Steve it is. How'd you get caught, Stevie?"

Ignoring the slight urge to point out that Eddie said his name wrong, Steve frowns slightly. "One of my guppies got caught in that ship's net. I got them out but was caught myself."

"One of your...guppies?"

"Yes. You would call them...children, I think?"

Eddie has nearly reached the middle of Steve's tail by now, and his hand falters once more. "Children? Aren't you...a little young?"

Steve bristles, glaring at Eddie. He's heard that same question plenty of times from members of other pods before, and he's tired of it. "What does it matter if they are happy and healthy?" he asks.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers, glancing up at Steve. There's something he can't quite read in Eddie's eyes. "Do you raise them alone?"

"What? No, of course not. My partner, Robin, raises them with me. We have seven guppies, with an eighth on the way."

"An eighth?!" Eddie asks, sounding strained as he pauses his stitching once more to look up at Steve. "Shit, man, shouldn't you give Robin a break?"

Steve blinks, tilting his head slightly. "Why would she need a break?" he asks.

"She's already popped out seven!"

Suddenly, Steve realizes what the disconnect is. He blinks once more and dissolves into laughter. "Oh!" he says, the exclamation broken by a giggle as he tries to calm himself down. "No, no, she is my partner, not my mate. Besides, she doesn't even like mermen."

Eddie seems to relax at Steve's explanation, his shoulders dropping and his voice significantly lighter as he starts stitching again and says, "Oh, I see. Then whose kids are they?"

"Technically, they belong to the pod," Steve explains, gritting his teeth as Eddie reaches the tailfin. He feels warm all over, his nerves jumping and his scales feeling half-ready to just fall off. "Each pod has at least two caretakers. Mates have a guppy and let caretakers raise them while they focus on their own roles within the pod."

"Do you like being a caretaker?"

"Yeah," Steve says, managing a shaky smile despite the tugging on his tailfin and Eddie's fingers pressing against his scales. "They're my guppies. I'd drain the oceans for them."

"And, uh, what about your mate? Do they mind you being so...devoted to the guppies?"

It's not at all subtle, but Steve finds it oddly endearing nonetheless. He slowly exhales, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Eddie's shoulder. "I don't have one."

Just like before, Eddie seems to relax some at the answer. He also finishes stitching, tying off the thread with a secure knot before carefully cutting away the excess. "Well, uh, we'll get you healed up and back to your guppies as soon as possible," he says, looking up at Steve.

"It needs to be wrapped in kelp. And, uh, I'll need a tub. You know, with seawater."

Eddie nods along, flashing a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Stevie, I'll get you anything you want," he promises.

"Anything?" Steve asks, leaning forward some as he tilts his head.

"I already gave you my favorite ring, sweetheart."

Steve glances down at said ring, wondering what about it could possibly make it Eddie's favorite. He can't immediately figure it out, but that doesn't change the sweet warmth and anticipation for the time he'll spend with Eddie that he suddenly feels.

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #that's gonna be the fic tag for this series btw #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fluff #my writing

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mollysunder · 9 months

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Lunari Heritage in Zaun

This is gonna be a reach, but from the little we've seen of Vi and Jinx's mom and younger Silco, I'd guess they were both from the same ethnic group.

In a place like Zaun, where the people are left with scraps, any piece of jewelry sticks out. Vi's mom and Silco are both wearing similar pieces of jewelry. Silco's bracelet could likely be fitted as a necklace since it twice wraps over his wrist. Neither are wearing anything of high quality, but the necklace and bracelet in their respective pictures seem decently maintained if not worn. That's when I thought, these are probably heirlooms.

In fact they looked pretty similar too, but in smaller scale of the princess's own pendants. I wouldn't bring this up if it weren't for the fact that Piltovans prioritize elaborate art-deco aesthetics, the more elaborately geometric the better (Councilor Shoola). So you would assume even the simplest jewelry would be a square pendant or a straight line. But no, big plain circles, and then I remembered we saw that before, on the princess Ambessa killed. Big bronze circles.

And when we look at young Vi , you notice that she's wearing jewelry too. A simple necklace with a green (it looks green) gem. And I realized that the princess's necklace was also adorned green gems.

I'm pulling from scraps, but it's interesting that small things these Zaunites have to adorn themselves (though not for long with the time skips) are similar versions if not simpler version's of the princess's.

At first I thought this meant that many of the cast were actually of Ionian descent. But then in the Princess's scene a thought kept coming back to me, "Why is Mel wearing purple?". Mel, a skilled diplomat from a young age, typically wears the main colors of the nations she hosts and is hosted by. White for Piltover, Black for Noxus (Ambessa), and always with her signature accents of gold. So if Mel followed her mother to Ionia ,where green is a culturally significant color, why purple? It's because Mel and Ambessa weren't in Ionia, they were in Targon fighting the Lunari.

The Lunari are Rakkor tribal people in the Targonian region who worship the moon, and are persecuted for it by the Solari, the religious order that worships the sun. While technically Mt. Targon is influenced by Mt. Olympus and Greek mythology aesthetic, that's more the case for the Solari. Overtime the Lunari aesthetic has been mixed it's originally nomadic culture with East Asian influences. The prominent colors of the Lunari happen to be turquoise, silver, black and purple. It was such a little thing to remember but it made me see connections I hadn't thought about.

Suddenly everything starts to connect. The bronze coins represent the 3 moons that exist in Arcane's Runeterra. How do we know there are 3 moons, because the Valdiani piece Jinx stole was depicting their planet. In the Valdiani there are 3 orbits circling the Earth, meaning 3 moons (or satelites). Now the engraving on the gold of the princess's necklace makes sense, because it's supposed to resemble the gates at the peak of Mt. Targon. The pendant itself is shaped like the mountain with the gates fitted at the top.

Frankly, it works for the Princess to have been Lunari and waves of descendants of the Lunari to arrive in Piltover and end up in Zaun. In Arcane, Piltover was created as a safe haven to escape the Rune Wars 200 years from the start of the show. Even after the Rune Wars ended the shipping port has likely seen waves of migrant labor and refugees from the ongoing crisis that occur in Runeterra (*cough*Noxus*cough*). It's likely that many of the current generation of Zaunites are of mixed heritage of the various fleeing people's.

It creates a whole new dynamic of the ways in which Piltover's laws, their Ethos, strips the people of Zaun from their identity and reducing them to tools for the mines. Magic is inherently a part of religious ceremonies and religion in general in Runeterra, especially for the Lunari. How do you practice your religion in a place that has banned the means by which it's conducted? There must have been more people like the Lunari who didn't have a problem with their magic, their problem was that they were being persecuted.

The remnants of family keepsakes brought over as communities fled were clung to as best as possible especially as they had to let go of part their spiritual identity. But even that doesn't seem to have lasted either. Vi doesn't keep her necklace, her mother is dead, so lost is her necklace, and we never see Silco wear his bracelet. They could have been stolen, or at best, hidden for safe keeping, maybe Enforcers get suspicious at the hint of mysticism and suddenly they want to talk.

Finally, maybe a little less related, it is interesting how prominent Piltovans and Zaunites take on day and night aspects. The sun shines over Piltover at their best, begins to set at times of uncertainty. While in the cover of night with moon above, the strongest Zaunites strike hardest. One more thing, it is interesting how Arcane's Jinx has taken on darker tones of purple rather than stick with neon pink. I always have to go back and look at a reference to remember that her pants are purple-er than I recall.

Update: I wanted to include that the large doodle Jinx made on her cup actually looks similar to the Lunari's sigil. And the sigil remains on the cup into the timeskip, also the center moon is made smaller within the crescent like in the necklace. I also noticed Jinx's cup later has more violent bomb imagery around it.

#arcane #lunari #zaun #silco #vi arcane #jinx arcane #mel medarda #there's a lot to think about #for everyone including mel #piltover #arcane theory #arcane meta #arcane speculation

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starreadssstuff · 7 months

Text

Finally - Choso kamo

Warnings- fluff, kissing and possibly insinuating other stuff, mutual pining

authors notes- YOU KNOW I HAD TO WRITE MY MANNNN. I love him HES SO SILLY!!!, anyway, his brothers are alive and the reader is a rambler.

Choso didn’t like to talk, words were hard for him, and he really was the most awkward person you had met. He just couldn’t express his feelings so he’d rather just be quiet. The only people he usually talks to are his brothers, other than them, he stays quiet opting to speak only when need be. That was until he met you. At first, he had planned to do the same he did to everyone, speak when necessary. However, that was very difficult seeing as you loved to talk. You always talked to anyone you could, if they seemed available, you’d start up a conversation as quickly as possible. No matter how many slip-ups he would make with his stuttering you would just sit there, allowing him to gather his thoughts and to talk freely. He felt like you understood him better than anyone else, even his brothers.

He had grown on you, just like you had on him. He really started to like you, you could sense it too, but neither of you had ever said anything. Choso had to do something, even though he wasn’t good with words, everyone says that actions speak louder. So he did something about it. After gathering so much information about you from your mini rambles you thought he didn’t care about, he made a plan. He had planned to buy you a book you had mentioned and… and what? Write a note? Maybe this was more difficult than he had thought. Does he just give it to you? Yes, he’ll just give it to you and you’ll move on, right? Wrong. When he handed you the book you were ecstatic! You squealed, drawing everyone’s attention, and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. While he was surprised, he wasn’t mad, he wanted you to like him, to hug him, to kiss him, and he got what he wanted. “Thank you so much Choso-san!” he just gave you a smile, not liking the attention you’ve brought to you two, but still wanting to be kind.

Later that day when he is finally ready for bed he gets a knock at his bedroom door. “Hi Choso-san! Sorry to bother you, Eso let me in, but I just wanted to say thank you for earlier today. That was really sweet!” you rambled, “yeah, of course, you said you wanted it so..” he trailed on. “Well to thank you, I wanted to give you this,” you hand him a beautiful silver chain bracelet, not too small but not too big, it was a casual accessory he could wear anywhere. As he grabs the bracelet and puts it on, you see his eyes brighten. When he lifts his head to look at you, you’re already looking at him, not expecting any words, but expressions of happiness or gratitude. That’s when suddenly he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. While very unexpected, it was so relieving that he felt the same way. Choso was so happy you didn’t pull away from the kiss, he couldn’t believe that you hadn’t if he was being honest, he might have died from embarrassment. Suddenly you hear a whispered “Finally” from Eso who was walking by. Choso quickly pulled the two of you into his room and locked the door kissing you again.

#i love this man #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #i love jjk #jujutsu kaisen fic #kamo choso #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso fluff #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso jjk

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 19 days

Text

Seventeen & matching/couple items

💕Who; seventeen (individually) x gender-neutral reader 💕What; soft thoughts about the couple items they'd have with their significant other 💕Wordcount; around 1.5k altogether 💕Warnings; none! I didn't even swear in this, go me

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this wasn't supposed to be a whole thing which is why there's no capitalisation, plus it's almost 2 am so I am not about to go through and change the style now

seungcheol; definitely rings. i imagine something simple and in silver with both of your initials on the inside so it's more subtle but he can still look down at it when he needs the strength you give him but he's also always giving you his hoodies/jackets/hats and will buy another of any you refuse to give back so you wind up matching that way too but only intentionally in private. cheol likes to show you off but only to those he trusts and loves because he only wants you to feel the love you deserve

jeonghan; jackets, like matching bomber-style jackets with cute embroidery and maybe your names embroidered on them somewhere. but he often steals yours so you have to wear his just so that he can see his name on you he'll definitely come up to you one day like "babe, let's get matching tattoos" only to show you a packet of temporary tattoos he got for some change in a machine. the designs are all clearly aimed at children but you both wind up with arms dotted in these cute little matching images

joshua; something sweet and handmade because it means more. yes, im talking about his handmade bracelets, or beaded keychains you made for each other one lazy afternoon full of giggles as you make each other the most atrocious keychains in a competition to make the worst just for the fun of it. yet you both still adore the keychain gifted to you because the other made it and wear it proudly on your favourite/daily bags omg mugs, every morning(if you live together) he gets up earlier than you on purpose just so that he can make sure that he can make you both your morning beverages(regardless of if you drink hot drinks or not) in the matching mugs. he smiles sleepy and content at you every time without fail as he watches you sip at your mug with the sweet phrase on that matches his own

junhui; i don't know why but i suddenly imagined matching plushies and that feels right. maybe you happened to both win the same one during an arcade date in a claw machine but now you both sleep with that same one on your bed even if it's for an anime neither of you has watched i don't imagine jun purposely getting matching items because it wouldn't really occur to him as he's never felt the need to boast, he's happy with you and he hopes you're the same though when you're out together wandering around stores and see little decor you both like, he'll rush to buy you one each so your living spaces matches. (he's really just slyly making your homes similar enough that it won't seem like such a difference when he asks you to move in)

soonyoung; i actually think he'd be quite subtle with it tbh. he'd give you a tiger plushie keychain to attach to your bag and he'd have a matching one of your favourite animal on his own and will always fiddle with it mindlessly and think of you. so it actually wears out quite often and he has to geta new one. though he keeps the damaged ones in a secret box under his bed because it'd feel like throwing a piece of you out, he really does link the cute little plushie to you so much he might also like something like bucket hats/beanies that match but in simple designs/colours so although you two know they're purposely matching, others will just see you both in plain black bucket hats and think nothing of it other than an easy to happen coincidence

wonwoo; wonwoo would definitely want something just for you two that isn't necessarily an obvious couple item. maybe a cute little enamel badge on his favourite jacket and you have the same on your daily bag also matching gaming headphones because how can i not mention that? even if you don't really game, he'll buy a set he's had his eyes on for ages aimed at couples, with the matching stands and keeps both on his desk so he can look over at your one even if you're not there. always makes him smile to himself and perk up even if he's about to rage quit a game

jihoon; another simple subtle kind of guy. i'm imagining something like braided leather-look bracelets with silver beads with a heart etching which he only takes off to shower/swim and will glare at any stylist who tries to convince him to remove it another one with matching headphones but in this case it's more that jihoon bought you a pair specifically for his studio so that you can listen to what he's working on with him without any outside noises disturbing your peace like can happen with the speakers. sometimes he subtley removes his own when he plays songs you already know just to hear you singing along softly while you do work on your laptop without realising he's listening to you utterly enamoured

seokmin; necklaces, probably multiple of them but his favourite is one of those where you shine a light through the gem and it projects a chosen photo onto the wall or something. the amount of times the others have found seokmin tucked up in a dark corner somewhere awkwardly trying to use the light on his phone to shine through the necklace without removing it is unreal. cute boy just wants to see the first photo you two ever took together for comfort <3 but i also imagine that one upon a time you two were in a store and he saw novelty hats and he didn't manage to slyly buy them for you both because he kept giggling so you found out before he made it to pay but you let him buy them because he looked to happy. so now you both have a novelty hat hanging proudly in your homes, you don't wear them but it makes you both smile to look at

mingyu; everything. he'll want every possible matching couple item. hoodies, bags, hats, rings, bracelets(im emotionally attached to the one he gives reader in this fic i wrote), necklaces, phone cases. omg phone cases, that's his favourite and you can bet there's multiple of them and he matches them to his outfit so every morning you get a selfie of his outfit, but not the case because he likes to make a game out of seeing if you'll guess the correct case to put on your phone that day to match (you always do)

minghao; i feel like he'd like matching necklaces or bracelets, something delicate and simple but full of meaning for you both. he'd especially love a necklace long enough that he can hold the pendant over his heart as he thinks of you when you're apart and hopes you're thinking of him too but he'd also like to make something, maybe one of you buys an embroidery kit one day for you two to try something new together and you personalise matching premade little zip bags(coin purse/toiletry bag idk what you'd call them) to gift each other. obviously as it's your first attempt at embroidery, they don't turn out that great but minghao proudly carries him around all the time with whatever little items he may need during the day and doesn't want to lose in his bag

seokmin; i have no idea why but my brain said shoes and now honestly that seems so random but i can't let it go now so you have matching shoes, a variety to match a range of outfits. They may not be exactly the same(though some are) but they're similar enough to work. seungkwan always smiles dopily to himself then plays it off and side eyes you when you tease him for it, though he's realyl fighting hard not to smile because he really loves the unique way to match with you also matching scarf/gloves/hat sets for the cold weather because he loves bundling you up so you're all cosy snug. the matching aspect is just a happy bonus and definitely always leads to loads of selfies with your matching pink cheeks and noses barely in view under the thick scarves

vernon; t-shirts, band tees, graphic tees, plain ones. just t-shirts. it started because you always stole his and he didn't realise it was because they're his so he bought you the same ones and took his back, only for you to swap them out next time. but he knows now and buys two of pretty much every t-shirt he buys though makes sure to wear one a handful of times before giving that one to you because he knows you like things he's worn he's also the type i think to like carrying a photo of you two in his wallet/tucked hidden into his phone case, like a photobooth one and obviously you have the other half of the strip in your own

chan; honestly, i think chan would just be happy to do whatever you want with matching. he thinks it's cute as hell to match with his partner but he won't really be the one to actively bring it up, just hint "oh look, babe, that couple have matching jackets, isn't that cute?" until you get the hint and ask him to get something matching with you, though he still has you lead it just anything at all would be his favourite regardless of if it was just a cheap prize keyring from the arcade or expensive brand new phones just to match, he won't care so long as he gets to show off that you two belong to each other

A/N- if you liked this, don't forget to let me know so that I know to try and do more things like this & also reblog so others can enjoy it too!

And if you have ideas/suggestions for seventeen content, feel free to send me an ask to help inspire me to write! (or just scream at me about the ideas if you want and I'll likely scream back with a continuation with your own thoughts tbh)

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prettyboykatsuki · 10 months

Text

based on this post. i flipped a coin and it landed on dan heng. it was going to be dragon!dh but i thought this was better. top + gn!reader. major spoilers for the hsr main storyline. implicit nsfw 18+

wc ; 1.8k

There is no place for you in the Xianzhou Luofu.

You are a prisoner of war. A long life species. Once, long ago, you'd been taken in by Imbibitor Lunae for your unwavering strength. From a planet long destroyed, with no family nor honor - you'd pressed your forehead to the floor and begged for your life.

Your Master had laughed at the time. Head tilted and smiling, shining and brilliant. You can recall the image so well even now, so many years later.

In the prisons of the Xianzhou, a new lifeform was birthed. The splitting image of your master, but no more than their ghost. The reanimated being Imbibitor Lunae took the punishment of your Master - banished from the Xianzhou. And you, a soul with no ties, took it upon yourself to follow.

For starters, Dan Heng does not like when you call him with any honorifics like he is above you. Dan Heng prefers his name. If you are to speak to him at all, it must be with his name. He likes names, it seems. He gave you yours when you'd followed him far enough and realized you didn't have one.

Next, Dan Heng does not seem to like you very much. You don't think it's personal. As far as ghosts go, you are little more than a poltergeist of his past. The people on the Express regard you fondly, but Dan Heng always looks like he is in pain when his gaze touches you too long.

And last, Dan Heng is beautiful even when he is not in his other forms. Even when he is the Dan Heng of the Astral Express. Dan Heng without name or origin. When he is a little more like you, somehow - you think he is beautiful.

And despite the similarities, Dan Heng is nothing like your master. There are many ghosts in the Xianzhou, but the ghost of Dan Feng does not linger in Dan Heng. Dan Heng is colder. Smoother. At times gentler, too. You know little of reincarnation, but of this much you can be sure. And though your Master saved your life, by now you've spent more time with Dan Heng than you ever did with them.

You do not know much of love. There was someone once. Long, long ago.

And yet, this much you know - you think your heart flutters whenever you think of Dan Heng.

Often, you are forced to reconcile with the differences between your master and Dan Heng. Their tastes, from food to clothing, always stand out to you. It is their taste in adornments that you usually pay most attention to. It's not that Dan Feng was particular.

But Dan Heng often wears jewelry so thin you can hardly see it. It's hard to describe how much it effects you, other than saying that it does. Other than saying you're always the first to notice the changes. He wears the connected tassel and ribbon only when he's leaving the ship. If someone is to gift him jewelry for any reason, he will always wear at least once.

You are forced to recognize the little details of Dan Heng when you notice these adornments. Forced to picture them in your fantasies in which you are able to put him to bed. Often on the floor of the archives, you wonder about the thin swishes of silver.

He wears a necklace underneath the high collar of his shirt. It's a gift from March 7th. A blue moon on a thin silver chain that sits perfectly in the middle of his sternum, trapped against his chest. Sometimes, when he puts on the clothes he has for sleep - you catch a glimpse of it. The starlight pouring through the windows make it shine.

His neck is thin, you think. Something about it is fragile. What would happen to such a material if you were to reach out and touch it.

(What would happen to Dan Heng if your hand tightened around it. Would his skin finally feel flush? Warm to your fingers, contrasting to the cool tones? )

There are bracelets too. Several. Some less formal, more gifts from March. One from Mr. Yang - this time it is gold. Gold, a braided chain - but delicate all the same. This one he takes off often. Only for special events. The curve of his wrist bewitches you. You think the bend of it must be pretty as a picture.

(You think of the indentation it might leave on your spine, had he let you have his way with him, The sound of his voice in your ear, pitchy and high - enough that the pain of being imprinted wouldn't faze you at all.

How good he would feel with his arms around your shoulders and your hands on his hips, bracing for dear life.)

Dan Heng says he doesn't wear rings often.

"They'll tear the pages in the archives if I'm not careful."

But he does own them. He buys them for himself usually, at the market. They're all of the same type. Bands of fine metals that are practical. Silver with aquamarine and amethyst. Gold with quartz and opal. He's not the type to spend so heavily on excess - so there are few. Accumulated after years and years, but untouched by time.

You wonder, if there's any particular reason he keeps them. You aren't sure there is. But he likes them, all the same. Rings are important in your culture. Different ones for different occasion. You think it is too much of a pipedream to hope he thinks of you as he buys them.

(You think of him wearing rings more often than not. It fills you with homesickness. The slender of his fingers with the jewels you've given him. A tradition from your homeland. Something about Dan Heng incites the desire to spoil, adoration bloomed from something much more potent than subservience.

He's beautiful always, but how beautiful would he be underneath you? Black hair and thin features. Delicate and ethereal, otherworldly. His hands covering his expression, painted in pink. Pink cheeks and hot pink mouth, bitten and swollen to hell.

The shine of the things you've given him, all over. You are dying to know lately, if it's possible to make a perfect thing more beautiful)

Last, there is your favorite thing to gift him. Anklets. From the beginning, you're unsure of where the compulsion came from. Even before you ended up in this state - you thought it would suit him. A chain around the ankle, with trinkets. Something more playful than elegant, but suited to Dan Heng all the same.

Recently, Dan Heng parades around the express in his dragon form often enough. The secret is out, so it's pointless in more ways than one to always maintain it. Though he prefers his other form, it is less energy to maintain this one. So he does.

Imbibitor Lunae is seated on the edge of your bed wearing your anklet, and you think the part of you that tries not to get too close might die soon.

You blink once, then again to assure you've not got mad.

"You're wearing it,"

Dan Heng gives you a momentary blank stare before flushing down to his neck.

"You noticed." Comes his reply, curt and deflective. Normally, you'd meet him tit for tat. Match his sarcasm to yours, but the words die as you inch closer to the edge of the bed. He doesn't back away.

"You're...wearing it. Why?"

He doesn't say anything to this. Just flushes and sighs like he's somehow above answering. You think it's endearing. You stand, sit on the edge of the bed and stare. You feel something in you start to crack.

Yes, lately - it is harder and harder to pretend that you do not look at Dan Heng and long.

"Dan Heng," You say, slowly and clearly "I want to touch you."

This makes him look like he'll keel over. There's some words forming in his mouth, something meant to scold you. When your eyes meet the words seem to die. Maybe he can tell you're serious. They're blue and wide and ethereal, stunned into shocked silence.

Your hand rests on his ankle. He doesn't move as you turn to look at it, pressing it against your thumb. You think a single hand around the bend of it, from thumb to ring finger could fit it. A being so powerful not much thicker than grass blades. Pale like milk pouring over honey.

"Since when?" Is his next question. He looks troubled.

"Since as long as we've been aboard the express."

You move towards the end of the bed and Dan Heng makes room for where you sit. You place your hand against clothed calf, planing up until his knee and resting there. He frowns.

"Did you not long for your Master?"

"No," You say firm, getting on your knees and leaning up. Dan Heng stumbles back against the pillows that hold him up. He falls to them as you hover over them and suddenly you're so close. "Only you,"

You take a piece of his hair, long and silky, kissing it as tenderly as you can. From this angle he flushes. Adorned and beautiful, with the same necklace and dainty hooped earrings. The little details that make up all of his idiosyncrasies.

"Only me." He repeats, soft and low and cute. Yes, there is only Dan Heng. You're sure your master could never make a face like this. He looks up at you a little stunned, into quiet silence that doesn't reach you.

"Why did you wear it?" You lean in his. His breath is warm with mint.

"I'm sure you're clever enough to figure that out."

You put your hands on his waist, inching up against the fabric. Your noses touch.

"I want to hear you say it," You reply to him, a little closer - brushing against his lips. He makes a face at you "Or else it will feel too much like a dream."

Your knee presses against the place between his legs but Dan Heng makes no moves to stop you.

"I wore it for you to notice. I didn't think you really would."

You laugh softly.

"I always notice. I'm always looking at you. Just you. It has been that way for a long time now."

He closes his eyes and laughs with you.

"I suppose it has."

You kiss him like this. Slow and tender and gentle, a soft sensation that builds itself to one of lust. You try not to devour Dan Heng, but it grows impossible. How could you turn away from him like this? Ripe like something waiting to be plucked, eaten whole even when taken apart slowly. You dip your tongue into Dan Hengs mouth, licking the fangs but never cutting yourself on their sharp edges.

Something stirs in you, something hard pressed against your stomach. You laugh a little.

"Dan Heng," You say again, teeth scrapping his jaw "I want to look at you a little closer."

He breathes you in. His hand reaches for yours, feeling for your ring finger.

"Nothing is stopping you."

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #writing tag #i dont rlly wanna tag this smut cause nothing Happens #but ill add it anyway #dan heng smut

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straykeedz · 7 months

Note

Thinking bout skz chains dangling in your face while they fuck you backstage after a concert all sweaty and riled up-

OMG OMG OMG THEYD GET SO COCKY TOO ARE YOU KIDDING???

thoughts are being thought 🤭

okay so MTL to get turned on by this and then i’m going to discuss this

most

jeongin

bang chan

lee know

han

changbin

seungmin

hyunjin

felix

least

jeongin - i stated this multiple times: he’s a freak. and i feel like he’d love to have you on top of a desk in the dressing room and he’d be between your legs, fucking your as hard as he can. he’s still got sooo much adrenaline from the show and would love to take it out on you. he’d love to make his chain dangle as much as possible bc it means he’s fucking you soooo hard until you’re a babbling mess and he’d be so cocky about it lmao, saying something like “am i fucking you so good you can’t speak? aw, jagi”;

bang chan - would love it (and i’m not just saying that cause he’s the loml), seriously. i’m convinced that the man would go absolutely feral if he saw you put the chain in your mouth as he fucks you, biting it with your teeth as he pounds into you ( i’m convinced he has a corruption kink and it’d drive him absolutely crazy to see his sweet, shy girlfriend turn a bit slutty because of him, but how could you not?). i think it’d happen in the dressing room, perhaps on the couch. he’d be between your legs as soon as he gets off the stage ngl!!!;

lee know - okay hear me out *clears throat* i have a feeling he likes it rough. so. rough sex + backstage + chains? you’re gonna be soooo sore lmao. that’s all i have to say;

hanji - would fuck you so hard the only thing you’d hear would be the sound of his chains zbahxheuwibduwgqyzgqywndjgahsq would snatch your hand away if you tried to put it on his chest to stop the chains from dangling lol;

changbin - i feel like he’d be slightly embarrassed to go at it backstage yk BUT if he’s hyped up enough he’d definitely be down for it. binnie with chains AND a tank top (black, perhaps? 😇)??? all sweaty too??? where do i sign??? you’d ask him to take it off though, just to see those chains on those beautiful pecs 🤤 (GOING FERAL 👹). omg would absolutely cum on the spot if you licked the sweat off his pecs and sucked on his tits avzhbahwvwgcqcwvs 👹👹👹;

seungmin - i kinda get the feeling that he’d be pretty neutral about it, he’d fuck you rough and hard regardless of the chains chavagvzhabwb especially after the show omg wouldn’t even get you naked, he’d just lift your skirt or dress or pull your jeans down your thighs and fuck you right there. i’m gonna have to be honest right now and confess that the seungmin that popped up in my mind is the one wearing a suit and sunglasses, yk? i know he wasn’t wearing a chain but just imagine - him with the shirt slightly unbottoned allowing a thick, silver chain to be half-seen?? would probably chuckle and call you his “desperate slut” when you rip his shirt open whzhsvwvqgvsvs 👹👹👹;

hyunjin - i feel like he’s be pretty annoyed by the sounds don’t ask me why 🥹 but maaaaaaybe it could work if you fidgeted with the chains as he fucks you, yk?;

felix - i HAD to put him last, i mean, have you seen the lv commercial? how the sound of the charms of the bracelets annoyed him? let’s be real, it’d drive him crazy and he’d probably take the chains off asap lol BUT still dick you down like you deserve nonetheless;

chaotic as per usual, bare with me babes ♡

-> my inbox is always open for requests and hard thoughts (or just thoughts, yk), just tap on the “💌” emoji and type away! [also, anon list is open!!!] ♡

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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

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"She is not a bird" - Hvitserk x Reader

SUMMARY: In Eddas, every great warrior falls in love with a Valkyrie - a winged goddess equally beautiful and imposing. Hvitserk finds his after a battle as she's stitching wounds and bringing comfort to those who will not see another dawn.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

In a colourful dress, she busses around, Time and time she turns her head, gives a smile, You could swear you saw her wings yesterday, How she hid them under the dress, But she’s not a bird, Can’t you see? She is not a bird.

Hvitserk has no interest in medicine or healing. Despite that, he has found himself watching one of the healers as she’s running back and forth between beds. She’s been at it for hours now and Hvitserk begins to wonder how come she’s not tired yet. Her feet and hands are equally quick as they had been when they arrived at the camp after the battle. The mesmerising glint in her eyes, something between curiosity and adoration, is still just as bright. Whenever one of the wounded warriors wants to talk to her, she sits at the edge of their bed. Her head nods gently before her lips curl into a reassuring smile and she says something in return. Maybe she’ll even chuckle at something. From where he’s standing, Hvitserk can’t make out her words but he can quite clearly see the faces of the people she’s talking to and it makes his curiosity consume him entirely to know what words turn agony into peace.

Lost in his own thoughts, the young Viking doesn’t notice jarl Friedgeir approaching him.

“Enchanting, isn’t she?” he asks with a smirk. He’s seen this scenario one too many times to have any doubts about what Hvitserk is thinking about. Friedgeir himself has been in that very same position before.

Friedgeir Esrason is nimble for his age. White and silver hair circles his tired face like a halo. Sun-damaged skin makes him appear even older, although fuller of life. It’s a testimony of long days spent on adventures, seeing what the world has to offer. Despite nearing grandfather’s age, his torso is broad and his arms are about the size of a shieldmaiden’s thigh. Brass bracelets clink every time he moves his hands. The purple material of his tunic is clearly worn out, tearing in places of the most friction.

“She is,” Hvitserk admits.

Jarl puts his heavy hand on Hvitserk’s shoulder. For a moment, the young warrior wonders if Friedgeir could actually crush his bones should he squeeze his fingers a little tighter.

“Can I entrust a secret to you, son of Ragnar?” Friedgeir asks in a low tone. His grey eyes look around the two of them as though expecting to find a prying set of ears. Everyone besides them appeared too preoccupied with their own duties and worries to care about the gossip shared between the Jarl and the famous Lothbrok boy.

Hvitserk looks at the older man with a frown.

“My brothers and I have risked our lives for your cause, Jarl Friedgeir,” he reminds the ruler. “I have no interest in breaking your trust. You know that already.”

“Good.” Friedgeir pats Hvitserk’s shoulder. He must be unaware of his strength as the gentle slaps are actually quite forceful, making Hvitserk answer his own question about crushing bones. Friedgeir can definitely turn someone’s skeleton into dust with a squeeze. “My wife mustn’t ever hear what I’m about to tell you. That girl…” he makes a pause and points his finger at the healer, “I think she might be a bird.”

Taken aback, Hvitserk looks up and down the Jarl.

“Did the Swedes hit you on the head?” he asks half-heartedly.

“I wish it was that. But no.” Friedgeir laughs bitterly and shakes his head. A shadow of melancholy flies past his sun-damaged face only to reside inside his silver eyes as a teary glint. “I always knew there was something strange about her but I came to understanding only after seeing the great viziers of the East and their pets locked in golden cages.”

Hvitserk glances towards the healer. His eyes follow her like hawk in hopes of some enlightenment that would make Friedgeir’s words clearer to him. Alas, she appears as she did before - enticing and human.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t understand.”

The Jarl lets out a sigh.

“Just look, dear Hvitserk. See the colourful dress like a parrot’s feathers.” Hvitserk has never heard of something called a parrot, so he is left to assume that they must look nothing like the birds in Norway. “And look at men’s faces when she talks to them. Pain and suffering change into hope and peace. The only time I’ve seen that was when one of the viziers asked his angry guests to listen to his oriole singing. After an hour, no one remembered what they were fighting about.”

Time as if slows down as Hvitserk is watching the healer sit on the edge of a cot belonging to a dying man. She holds his hand tightly and tirelessly wipes cold sweat from his forehead. The warrior is stuttering, fever and pain making his wants incomprehensible. The woman sitting beside him only nods her head, offering a warm smile and a short response. Soon, the man falls limp. His eyes turn blank as his head rolls lifelessly to the side. The healer squeezes the corpse’s hand and only then gets up to continue her work. A pair of healthy warriors wrap up the body in blankets only to carry it away, to the place where a great pyre will burn after nightfall.

Hvitserk is more intelligent than the jarl. More perceptive. He’s seen geese flying southwards when winter was coming, only to come back after snow thaws. But not her - she stayed until the warriors’ skin turned cold and grey. Let go of dead hands only after the heart stopped, never earlier.

“She’s not a bird,” the young Lothbrok speaks up. Friedgeir looks at him curiously. “Can’t you see?” he asks with a chuckle on his tongue. “She must be a Valkyrie, leading fallen warriors to the gates of Odin's hall.”

The Jarl only nods slowly, pondering Hvitserk’s words.

“If she is, perhaps death isn’t a too high price to be by her side.”

But he’s too young to be this patient and Hvitserk has to find a reason to be beside her now.

You’re taken aback when someone suddenly takes the wooden crate from your hands. The unexpected helper reveals himself to be none other but Hvitserk with a playful grin on his face. Despite giving all he could in the battle, just hours prior, he appears to still be vigorous as though the fight was a mere warm-up.

The man puts the heavy crate on his shoulder, securing it with one arm. What has given you backpain and cold sweat, seems like no chore to him. The Ragnarsons really are a different strain.

“Where do you want this?” he asks casually.

“At the pyre.” You point in the vague direction of where the bodies will be burned. “Illness thrives within the old, used dressings.”

Hvitserk begins wandering to the place you have pointed out and, not sure why, you begin to follow him. His strides are long and sure, his breathing calm and steady. He hardly fits the image of a man who had to fight like a rabid dog to survive just earlier that day.

“Are you not tired afer the battle?” you ask him. Confusion slips past your words.

“I am.” Hvitserk glances at you. It’s a quick look but you manage to notice him staring you up and down. “But I thought you might need help. You’ve been tending to the wounded for hours.”

A melodic, light chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?”

His playful half-grin turns into a genuine smile. Staring at the road ahead, he almost looks bashful.

“I have a habit of admiring enticing things,” Hvitserks admits.

You feel your cheeks burning at the nonchalant compliment but you don’t let him notice that. Neither do you let his sweet words distract you.

“Then you must lead a busy, beautiful life.”

The man’s voice seems faraway and absent as he answers, as though his mind is suddenly occupied with vivid daydreams:

“Not yet.”

The noise of the camp is inaudible now. Only pine trees and wild berries accompany Hvitserk and you. A murder of crows suddenly takes flight as you pass by. Their cawing echoes through the empty forest.

You can’t quite put a finger on this sensation but something about Hvitserk makes you feel warm and calm inside. It’s the same feeling one experiences when sitting in front of a warm hearth after spending long hours in the cold. When the blood begins flowing again and the relief of not freezing to death is forgotten, the warmth and safety make one sleepy and giddy. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?

Hvitserk sets the crate down with a low thud. The sound shakes you awake from your thoughts. A strong, putrid smell of blood, fresh wood and animal fat fills your nostrils. Even after all those years, it never gets easier to prepare people for their final journey.

“Thank you,” you begin awkwardly. Some more anxious part of you is suddenly terrified that he will somehow learn of your thoughts about him. “I don’t know if I could have carried it by myself all the way here.”

His lips curve into a sly grin and you can tell he’s about to weave a string of charming words but something about him distracts you instantly. Hvitserk’s shirt, once greyish-beige, is now brown and crimson. Not thinking much, you suddenly grab his arm. He doesn’t even get a chance to protest when you roll up his sleeve to reveal a, re-opened wound.

“Your hand is bleeding,” you state.

Hvitserk is unsure whether your stern gaze scares him or excites.

“It’s nothing.”

He tries to roll his sleeve back down but you swat his arm away. Pushing down on his shoulder, you force him to sit down on the ground with you.

“Well, it’s definitely going to scar,” you say quietly as you inspect the deep cut in his skin. “But the good news is, some women like men with scars. I know I do.”

You take out a sewing needle made from animal bone. For practicality, you’re used to wearing it pinned somewhere in your clothing. After all, one can never know when they might need it like when a handsome, charming Viking suddenly needs his wound stitched. Gods work in mysterious ways, truly…

A drop of blood drips from the wound each time you push the needle through the pale skin. Hvitserk is impressively collected - he only grunts a few times and clenches his teeth.

“All done,” you whisper more to yourself than him. In a quick, mechanical manner you wipe the skin of his arm again and roll down the sleeve of his shirt.

You’re standing up when Hvitserk decides he’s not quite done being the apple of your eye:

“How hurt does a man have to be for you to stay around longer?”

As though he didn’t just get stabbed eigh times in his cut and bruised arm, he’s staring at you with than same insufferable mischieviousness that you’ve grown to love so much. Sometimes you wonder whether this is exactly the reason he’s never had trouble charming women.

“A broken rib would do it,” you say with a shrug. “Or you could just ask.”

Suddenly, Hvitserk jumps to his feet. A newfound fire is burning inside him - a flame known only to those, whose affections are returned.

“Please?”

Jokingly, you frown at him.

“I didn’t know the Lothbroks knew such words,” you say in a surprised tone.

You feel his fingers dragging up your arm until his palm gently brushes against your cheek. The skin of his hand is dry and calloused, standing in a stark opposition to its owner.

“We hold it for special occasions.” Hvitserk’s voice is low, almost raspy.

“And me standing here is somehow special?”

“You don’t even know,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your cheeks. But how can a man make you feel the same as a fireplace on a cold night?

“Then tell me.”

At that moment, he knows he will have his entire life to remind you just how special you are to him; he will have his whole saga to love a Valkyrie.

#vikings #vikings tv series #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk fanfic #vikings x you

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anarcoqueer1994 · 2 years

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Was working on one head canon idea and another one hit me that I need to force on you.

Steve Harrington wasn't one for a mess, keeping his space relativly clean, with very little excess stuff. So when he and Eddie were moving into a little efficiency apartment of their own, not too far from the trailer park, Eddie wasn't expecting a lot things. Not like him, who held onto everything, loving the chaos of clutter.

Most of Steve's boxes were clothing, with one large box being dedicated to hair products. Steve was putting together thier bedframe in the other room, leaving Eddie to unpack some stuff in the living room. He was surprised when mixed among his boxes full of D&D stuff, mugs, guitar strings, random knick-knacks he thought were cool, was a lone box with the words "Important" on the front written in Steve’s neat handwriting.

Eddie can't help himself, kneeling down next to the box, pulling it open. Inside were various trinkets that he was sure Steve got rid of by now.

Three swim medals, wrapped in a varsity jacket, two silver and one gold.

A guitar pic Eddie threw off stage from the first time he saw Correded Coffin. He had Eddie sign it.

A beat up copy of the Lord of the Rings that Dustin had insisted he read.

A friendship bracelet Robin made for him the first time she came back to visit Hawkins after leaving for college with Nancy. It had pink, orange, and white beads on one side, blue, purple, and pink on the other with R+S in the middle. Eddie remembers he and Nancy having to watch those two be attached at the hip the entire visit. If she weren't his platonic soul mate, Eddie might even admit he was jealous.

A drawing Will had made for him of The Party, signing his name at the bottom.

Some old notecards with Nancy’s pretty handwriting covering the front and back.

A letter from Mike with "Top Secret" on the front. Eddie respects it but inside the letter, Mike said he was panicking because he likes Will how he used to like El, and though he hated to admit it, but Steve was the only person he knew he could ask.

A program from Billy’s funeral. Eddie knew Billy would always be an important part of Steve’s past, and that's okay.

The shiny pebbles that Eddie would find and have to give them to Steve. All 20 of them. He had no idea Steve kept them.

A clumsily crocheted hat that was far too big to wear but El had been teaching herself and Steve happily accepted it.

A ticket to Lucas' championship basketball game.

The visitor's pass from the many days and nights he spent with Max in the hospital, and the sappy little note she gave to him after. He never told her he was there when she was in a coma, but she knew.

A few pictures from various years; A group picture of all them, a way to commenerate everything they have been through together. Him and Dustin in Claudia's kitchen decorating Christmas cookies. (He is still grateful for the Henderson's opening up their home for his boyfriend after his parents disowned him) A picture of Eddie up on the stage. Steve and Robin at the video store on her last day, and finally a picture taken by Jonathan of Eddie and Steve on the Munson's couch, Eddie pulling Steve in for a surprised kiss.

So no, Steve was not one for clutter, but apparently Steve was one for his friends. Eddie can't help but fall in love with Steve a little more.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve is sentimental #ficlet #the party #steddie #ronance

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graveyard-stray · 4 months

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Since you returned || Thomas Shelby x F!Reader

Includes: Angst, PTSD, mentions of war, violence, and death, mentions of NSFW topics (briefly), swearing and yelling, rejection if you squint, fluff at the end <3

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I literally JUST started Peaky Blinders and had to write this so if any details are wrong please forgive me!!

NOT PROOFREAD

You and Thomas Shelby had some- history to say the least.

You were practically apart of the Shelby family. Ever since you could walk you were best friends with Arthur, John, Finn, Ada, and of course- Tommy. You were the same age as Ada and grew up next door to the family so you spent lots of time with her, and in turn also her brothers.

You could almost always be found running around the street with the Shelby children, playing stupid games or causing a bit of trouble. The brothers never seemed to really care that you and Ada were girls. I mean sure they would be protective over you with danger or boys, but they didn’t exclude you or limit the activities just cause of your gender- and for this time period, that meant a lot.

Tommy in particular, you had always taken an interest in. He was quieter than the other brothers, and a bit smarter too. He was calm and calculated but also fun and sweet. You knew you could always go to him if you needed something and he had no problem getting into fights to protect you and Ada.

It was a very prominent memory in your mind, the day you realized your crush on Tommy. It was your 13th birthday and he was the first Shelby to arrive at your home to wish you a happy birthday. Even before Ada, who you could only assume was running around with her little boyfriend. Of course you didn’t mind though.

But it was your birthday and you were home alone as your mother was away at work and your father had been dead for years, and you heard a knock on your door. You got up from the table where you sat eating some breakfast and strode towards the door, upon opening it you see a 16 year old Tommy standing infront of you. He smiled down at you. “I believe I owe you, a Happy Birthday” He said rather smug and sarcastically but in a fun and playful manner.

You couldn’t help the smile that emerged from your face as he pulled you into a quick hug, once he drew away from you, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box wrapped with some ribbon, “And a little gift for you, of course.” he held the box out towards you. Your face tinted a bit pink as you looked down “oh Tommy you really didn’t have to get me anything.” You insisted. “Oh but of course I did, your 13 years old today, practically an old woman now!” He joked, causing you to giggle sweetly.

You grabbed the box from his hands and unwrapped the ribbon carefully. Your smile grew wide as you opened the box to see a silver bracelet inside. You weren’t sure if it was real but you’d didn’t care of course. What meant a lot to you was the fact it was silver. Everyone usually gave you things colored gold, but you really didn’t like gold. You were just too nice to say anything. Except once- mentioning it offhandedly. You didn’t think any one heard but…he did. He always heard you when you spoke.

“It’s silver, since I know you don’t like gold all that much.” Tommy mentioned as he observed your reaction to the gift. You smiled widely up at him and quickly wrapped your arms around him in another hug. He smiled and hugged you back.

After he left you realized his kindness. He was always kind to you, he listened when you spoke and sometimes you felt like he knew more about you than Ada. And then you can’t forget he is quite handsome.

From that day on your ever waking thought was consumed by Tommy Shelby.

13 YEARS LATER; 1919

Ever since he had returned from the war, Tommy wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Tommy anymore. Tommy Shelby was long gone. This was Mr. Shelby. The leader of the Peaky Blinders and the toughest man in Birmingham.

The day he came back from France you ran to him, you went to give him a hug and to welcome him home but he stepped away, avoiding your embrace. You were confused and a bit concerned at this reaction, taking note of his glare and the almost blank expression that painted his face. The light behind his eyes you knew so well was gone.

His refusal of your hug was exceptionally odd because- before he left you were quite close more so then usually. You were both in your 20s and it was unspoken but there was definitely a bit of tension there. You weren’t sure if he felt the same about you, but you were undeniably in love with him, more than just a grade school crush.

Now though, he was a completely different man. If you were told he was a different person entirely- not even named Thomas Shelby, just with the same face…you might actually believe it.

The fun gaze he possessed before was replaced by a hard glare. The smile you were so familiar with replaced by a constant blank expression or scowl. You could’ve swore you saw him smoking a cigarette 24/7 (although that wasn’t TOO strange for him) His face was thinner, his eyes baggier, and all around you could see that this was a broken man.

You walked into the Shelby family meeting and took a seat next to Aunt Polly. Arthur looked at you and furrowed his brows, “Uh no, this is a family meeting, You are not a Shelby. Your a (l/n).” He scolded you. But you didn’t move or even seem to acknowledge his words.

“(y/n)!” He snapped, attempting to get you to reply. You turned to him slowly, staying in your seat and taking a long drag from your cigarette. “As far as your concerned I am a Shelby. I helped your sister and aunt run this place while you were off in France, and now here I am getting disrespected and have no say? What happened?” You defended yourself, your tone quite unbothered.

Before Arthur could speak Tommy chimed in, “we came back.” He said, answering your question. Your eyes moved to him, “did you though?” You asked rhetorically. He was going to reply but Polly cut him off and began the meeting.

After the meeting ended you were the last to leave, or at least you thought you were. There you sat, in your chair looking out the window, cigarette between your fingers as you got lost in thought.

You were pulled out of your mind by a rough voice behind you, “What the hell do you think your doing?” Tommy asked angrily. “Smoking.” You replied matter a factly.

He scoffed, “you know damn well that ain’t what I mean. Showing up to family meetings and acting like you are one of us, like your a peaky blinder.” He scolded you.

You got up angrily and faced him. “I am a peaky blinder Thomas. While you were away fighting in that damn war I was here! I was here with Polly and Ada, and we ran this place. We did a bloody good job at it too! I am just as capable as you are!” You defended.

He looked down at you, “it isn’t safe, the people out there are bloody viscous. Your gonna get ripped to shreds!” He said, the scowl on his face never faltering.

“You don’t get to tell me what is and isn’t safe for me, who do you think you are? My keeper? Not in a million years Thomas!” She spat at him, the words seeping into him like venom. He hadn’t heard you call him by his full first name, ever- not that he really thought about it.

He got angry now, although deep down it wasn’t anger, it was sadness. Of course it didn’t come out that way… “ACTUALLY, I CAN TELL YOU WHAT IS AND ISN’T SAFE BECAUSE I AM IN CHARGE AROUND HERE. IF YOU WANT TO BE A PEAKY BLINDER YOUR GONNA LEARN TO FOLLOW ORDERS LIKE A DAMN OBEDIENT WOMAN.” He yelled in your face. You didn’t flinch, just frowned angrily and shook your head.

“Where is Tommy. I want him back.” You said softly? Mostly to yourself. “The hell do you mean? I’m standing right fuckin’ infront of you!” He said, still angry and now a bit confused.

You looked him in the eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that used to hold the world and now, were empty and cold. “The boy who used to care for me, for others. The boy who was kind…who knew my favorite color and cared to say goodmorning and goodnight and wish me a happy birthday every year. The boy who laughed and joked and had fun and had a life! The man who would NEVER speak to me, or any other woman for that matter, like I was some common whore!” You retorted.

He scoffed, “What? You expected me to come back and be the EXACT same man? You have no idea what happened over there! you could think about it realistically- But no! your just a little girl who doesn’t understand how the god damn world works. I mean seriously, PEOPLE DIED. I WATCHED PEOPLE DIE. That changes man! And besides, what’s it matter to you anyway?!” He yelled.

You took his face in your hands roughly, putting on hand on each cheek and forcing him to look you in your eyes as you said this, said the thing you always had wanted to tell him but were always to scared to say. “IT MATTERS BECAUSE I LOVED TOMMY SHELBY. I LOVED HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING AND NOW ALL I GET IS A MAN WHO IS ANGRY AND COLD AND JUST BLOODY MEAN!” You screamed, trying to suppress the tears that threatened your eyes. Not wanting to seem weak.

He pulled away from your grasp on his face and rolled his eyes “oh, so your upset because I didn’t take you home and sleep with you as soon as I got back? FUCK, you really are a cheap fucking whore!” He yelled, slamming a drawer closed.

“THAT ISN'T THE POINT AT ALL!” You yelled and looked up to blink, so the tears wouldn’t fall. “THE POINT IS THAT I LOVED YOU….” Your tone began to soften and the tears finally fell. “I loved you and, god- Thomas I know your struggling and I know that everything over there was horrible. But you won’t even let me help you. You won’t let anyone! All you do is get angry and mean and bitter and…I know my worth and I don’t deserve this.” You responded finally. Before turning and leaving the room.

As you left Tommy watched you go, the anger in his face now melting away and revealing the sadness. He realized he had made a mistake.

3 days later; 1919

You hadn’t spoken to Tommy in days. You had been entirely avoiding him. Mostly out of anger at how he spoke to you, and partially out of embarrassment and guilt. You knew he was struggling and ended up just screaming at him instead of trying to talk to him- but in your defense he was being rude first. And then you told him you were in love with him which you never even considering doing. It was not the greatest memory right now.

Tommy seemed quite alright, some rough business with other gangs but nothing too out of the ordinary, you knew how business was.

It was around midnight you assumed, you had just gotten out of bed to make some tea since you were unable to sleep. As you waited for the water to heat you heard a knock at the door. You looked suspiciously at it.

You grabbed your gun off the table near the door and held it tight as you looked through the peephole.

A soft sigh left your lips as you saw who it was, Thomas Shelby. You rolled your eyes before putting your gun down and opening the door to see what he could possibly want.

You hadn’t noticed through the peephole but he looked pretty messy. In just his pajamas and a jacket, his hair a mess and his face covered in sweat. You looked concerned, and any annoyance you had at his arrival soon washed away.

“I uh. I had a nightmare.” Tommy started, as he stood nervously in your doorway. “I’ve been having them every night really.” He continued softly. Your gaze softened. “Oh Tommy. Come in.” You moved out the way and let him walk in, he took a seat on your sofa as you closed the door and took the water off the stove- then moved to join him on the couch.

“I’m sorry (y/n). For the other day and showing up here now. All those things I said I- I didnt mean it. Your not a whore. Or a stupid little girl, you’re smart and beautiful and you’ve always been a deal too good for me…and tonight I woke up from my nightmare and I just. I don’t know…You said you wanted to help me, and I was scared of letting anyone help me. But I..love you.” He confessed, the look in his eyes tired and sad, but also that warm familiar look you knew well.

You put your hands on his cheeks softly, a striking 180 from how you held his face the other day, and placed your forhead against his. You could feel his shaky breaths on your face as you just sat there for a moment. “I will help you get through this, all of it. Because I love you too, Tommy.” You said as you sat there, once again getting to feel and smell him there with you, you missed this proximity to him.

Tommy smiled a soft smile as you called him his nickname. He put his hands atop yours, which were still on his face, and leaned in to connect his lips with yours in a quick kiss. It was quick but it was also soft and loving. You both had clearly waited for this for so long and it was worth it. “I missed hearing you call me that.” Tommy admitted. “I always thought my name sounded best coming out of your mouth” he said a bit suggestively. You chucked.

“Why don’t we head upstairs to my room? You can stay here, incase you have another nightmare.” You suggested, smiling softly at him as you pulled away from the closeness to look at him fully. He nodded softly before getting up.

As you got back to your room and crawled into bed and layed on your side facing the wall. He climbed in a moment after you, you could feel the dip in the mattress as he got in and under the covers. After he adjusted for a moment you felt his arm wrap around your waist and his body press against yours, his face burying in your hair. “I hope this is alright, love.” He asks softly.

You smile and grab hold of his hand which is resting on your stomach. “Definitely.” You reply as you both snuggle close and drift off to sleep.

Tommy Shelby didn’t have another nightmare that entire night he spent cuddled up with you in your bed, and sure he had a long way to go but he knew with your help it would be okay.

#peaky blinders #cillian murphy #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy x reader #x reader #angst #hurt comfort #fluff

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myfanfic-urfantrash · 2 months

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I have the sudden epiphany for moar Friendship thoughts and like, the Boys™ (yes, March 7th is now part of the Boys™) having that spontaneous friend who just likes to burst in at least once a day while yelling (because they're very very excited) to show their bestie something or because they got their bestie something that reminded Friendo of them and they just had to get it for 'em.

A normal day for the Boys™ must always have at least one moment of Friendo just making one (1) loud entry (they got used to Friendo's weirdness and loudness) or else they just sense something is off about their day.

(Bonus food that the thing Friendo brought was friendship bracelets that they made for them. Because truly, I cannot imagine a world where friendship exists without friendship bracelets.)

You shall be named The Boys™ Anon :D

Since this wasn't hinted at as A/B/O I'm writing this without that in mind. I also left out Sampo cause I couldn't figure out what to write for him.

-------

Blade

Has pointed his sword at his friends loud entrances before because he was on edge so anything set him off. His friend never gets harmed though once he realizes who it is and they've gotten good at dodging any strike that comes their way so it's all good. He gets used to their nonsense so at this point he just does it to mess with them.

Kafka and Silver Wolf tease him regularly about how his friend is loud and friendly while he's quiet and brooding. He ignores them but he does worry sometimes because he knows he's not good company. But with their next loud entrance and having them hang off of him with some new trinket they thought reminded them of him his worries are put to rest, they aren't the type to lie to him anyways. If at any point his friend doesn't pop into his life like they usually do he's already on his way to find them no hesitation.

When they present him with a friendship bracelet he's actually touched and wants to make one himself for them but his hand gives him trouble halfway through the process. Once his friend figures out his desires they convert whatever he was able to make into a neat charm to carry with them where ever they go.

Jing Yuan

His friend is always bursting through the doors of his workplace just to tell him the latest news of their day. Before they used to be dragged or kicked out when he was just a cloud knight but now they can come and go as they please much to the annoyance of Fu Xuan. Yanqing thinks they're rather loud but kind so he doesn't fuss too much as they know when and where it's appropriate to be their bubbly self.

Jing Yuan honestly welcomes their loudness in his life it's comforting to hear them alive and well...loud. They at least know not to disturb him while he naps so he gets plenty of good sleep if they're around especially if they guard the door to let him nap. If his friend doesn't show up he won't immediately freak out but he will feel like something is missing so he texts them to check if they're alright before going to search for them himself.

If his friend gave him a friendship bracelet he'll do his best to make one in return. What better way to celebrate ones bond than with match accessories right?

Welt

He doesn't mind that his friend is weird or loud, though he does ask them to tone down the loudness before he develops a headache. He's also grateful he can ramble about animation and robots with them, he feels so young whenever he's with them. Is always intrigued by what new item they'll bring that reminded them of him and loses it when it's some rare mecha figurine for him to put together.

Does get worried if his friend doesn't come bug him like usual and will text or call them to ask if they're alright. If they don't respond he'll ask the other Astral Express crew members if they know where they are since it's likely they're a Nameless too.

When he's given a friendship bracelet he doesn't know what to do but he's grateful for it he's just never gotten one before. If his friend is willing he'll ask them to teach him how to make one for them too.

Luocha

Teases his friend by asking if they've missed him so much or if they're stalking him if he meets them on a foreign planet. He doesn't mind his friends loudness or weirdness, he's seen plenty of odd things on his travels across the universe so he's not exactly surprised. Does get a bit startled if his friend just bursts in whatever space he's in to share something they've seen with him, he's partially convinced they are stalking him how else would they have found him?

Appreciates whatever items they bring for him that remind them of him. It's sweet to be thought of so much and he finds himself doing the same thing while he's out and about. If for any reason he doesn't see his friend at least once per day he might brush it off as them being busy or because he simply didn't tell them where he was going but eventually he settles to text them to ask if they're alright. If he doesn't receive an answer he's calling and if he doesn't receive one he's heading their way if possible.

If he's given a friendship bracelet he gifts them something in return. It could be a friendship bracelet or a brooche he found on his travels, just something to remind them that he's there for them.

Dr. Ratio

Definitely throws chalk at his friend if they're being too loud while he's doing something important. They've burst into his class room a couple of times and though they've learned not to just burst in it doesn't stop them from visiting him to show him some cool new object they've found. He does like the stimulation of observing new objects but he does wish his friend would stop interrupting his lessons, the students appreciate however as it gives them time to write notes.

If his friend doesn't visit him he's curious but ultimately grateful for the peaceful moment. He does check up on them however if they don't show up to interrupt him as usual, he's got their exact moments they'll interrupt him down to the second. Will text and call his friend but if he gets no response he's tracking them down to get an explanation and it better be good for wasting his time.

Accepts the friendship bracelet with little issue and passes them something small he's crochet in exchange. The bracelet is a little clumsy but at least it matches his aesthetic and favorite colors.

Dan Heng

He's so tired he already has to deal with March and the Traiblazers nonsense on the daily how did he attract someone who's both weird and loud? He loves his friend of course he just misses having peace a quiet. But if his friend were to never show up one day he'd freak out texting, calling until they show themselves.

He's either touched or just plain confused by whatever items they bring him that remind them of him. Did this piece of sea glass really remind them of him? How nice. At least it's not some weird looking dragon plush, which he kept by the way.

He's touched to receive a friendship bracelets. He's read all about them and sort of unconsciously wanted one so he's really happy to receive one from his friend. Does some studies on how to make them on his own in order to make one for them.

Caelus

Doesn't mind his loud and weird friend bursting through the doors to come see him at all, in fact he might burst through doors to come see them as well. He loves seeing what little items they find to show him it's tons of fun for him and helps build his massive collection of items he has.

If his friend doesn't visit him like they normally do he'll be a little worried but wouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly but if they don't respond to his texts he's going to head there way ASAP. He just wants to make sure they're ok.

For him? Truly? He wants to cry and he might do so. He's never really had a friend of his own before until he met the other Nameless but to have one that think he's they're worthy of a friendship bracelet? He asks them to teach him how to make one for them right away.

March 7th

The loud friend so she has a rival in them. Takes at least one photo a day with her friend and the weird items they find to show her. Doesn't get how half the stuff reminds them of her but she keeps whatever they give her on a special shelf in her room. Her favorites are of course the stuff animals.

If she doesn't see her friend for a bit she's already texting them. Doesn't get too worried but with how crazy her life can get her mind might wander a bit before she's calling them to make sure they're alright. Asks everyone she knows if they've seen her friend before searching for them herself.

Made her friend a friendship phone strap but adores the friendship bracelet. The two spend an afternoon making matching phone straps and bracelets for each other.

Edited: 03/30/2024

#honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #welt x reader #luocha x reader #dr. ratio x reader #dan heng x reader #caelus x reader #march 7th x reader #edit: not my ass forgetting to finish Luocha's

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desswright29 · 3 months

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Brick District (Prolouge)

Synopsis: To say life was rough for young Shuri would be an understatement. An only child to a Mother suffering from leukemia she had to figure out a way to survive very young. A job at the vibranium mines led her to you. Her Amanzi (water), from that moment on the two of you were attached at the hip. You did everything, and were even excepted into the most prestigious college in Wakanda together. That is until Shuri lands herself into some serious trouble, causing a series of unfortunate events. Will you be down for the ride?

A/n: Random idea. I hope you guys enjoy and let me know if you guys want more of Shuri and her Amanzi! ☺️

Hand on my heart I swear I made peace with the rain Peace with the rain Now I dance with the pain

Stepping inside the cold concrete room, the clanking of metal followed by a thundering slam followed behind you. Your heart beat rapidly against your sternum, fear weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“Box 3!” The officer directed you sternly. Your eyes instantly scan the room for the number painted thick upon the concrete walls, until you spotted it approximately twelve steps ahead of you.

One, two, three. Breathe, just breathe y/n. Six, seven, eight. You’re safe, the officers are here for your protection. Eleven, tweleeeve…thirteen. Damnit just one off.

Anxiously, you sat in the chair infront of you, staring at the empty seat on the other side of the glass. Putting up a front of calm, your rhythmically bouncing leg, the traitor to your true feelings. Anxiety. A loud buzzing and a click snapped you out of your thoughts, your body literally jolting slightly out of your seat.

Damnit girl get a grip.

Two officers walk into the room, one holding the door as the other led out a line of inmates. Instinctively, your eyes trained on your hands, fiddling with your fingers, as the dragging of feet, and rattle of chains continued to pass you by. Until, it came to a stop. Beautifully veined hands with bruised knuckles, placed together by silver bracelets on each delicate wrist, entered your line of sight. Your gaze continue to trail up her body until they settled on her face.

A soft gasp left your mouth. Contusions littered her beautiful face. But, the long cut right underneath the apple of her left cheek garnered the majority of your attention, her fuzzy braids were second on the list. She was always very well put together. Your heart ached seeing her this way. The officer removed the cuffs from her wrist, as she tried to stifle the look of agony on her face m, while she slowly attempted to sit. A lump formed in your throat as you blinked back tears. Reaching forward, she grabbed the phone and you followed her lead. Leaning forward onto the table in front of her, she placed her cut bottom lip into her mouth. Wetting it before looking up at you through hooded lids.

“I thought I told you not to come here?” Words escaped you as you continued to stare, trying to find a way to speak without breaking. You had to be strong for her.

“Don’t look at me like that, bhabha.” You nervously avert your gaze, clearing your throat before speaking.

“You knew I was coming to see you regardless. I’ve always been a bit hard headed…..W-wha-“

“It’s prison y/n. Shit happens.” Irritation coated her words as she cleared her throat, slouching back into her chair. “You shouldn’t be here. You have shit to do.”

“I had to lay eyes on you… make sure you’re alright. My bags are packed, I’m ready!” The corners of your mouth peeked upwards yet your eyes remained sad, as you attempt to bring some sort of light to the conversation. “Can’t find a box big enough to fit all my shoes though.” Chuckling nervously you search Shuri’s eyes. Looking for some of the light that she’d had outside of these walls, you were met simply with a darkness that ran to her core. Your friend was hurting, and there was nothing you could do.

“Hmph.” Her attempt at a laugh fell flat as her gaze lingered on the floor in front of her. “Have to have those shoes.” It looked as though it pained her to speak. Her hand rubbed absentmindedly at her side. Had she unzipped her jumpsuit and lifted her wife beater, you would’ve been met with a large black and purple bruise. “I’ll still take care of that while you’re in university. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

“Hey, you already know!’ And I’ll be fine. You just worry about being safe in here…please.” The elephant in the room began to stomp on your chest as you prepared to ask your next question, “how long?”

“That’s how it’s been since we met mama. It won’t change because I’m in this shithole.” Shuri finally makes direct eye contact with you, and your stomach flips. Your gazes linger on eachother before Shuri speaks up again. “I took a plea. Minimum of four years since I don’t have any priors. I could probably cut some time with good behavior.

“F-four years!” Your thoughts began a vicious attack on your nervous system, gnawing its way through your quivering lips. Four years without Shuri? What did that look like for you?

“But you’ve never been in any trouble! You’re only eighteen for bast sake. Four!”

“Calm yourself. It’s light for everything they found on me when they got me.” For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. Twiddling your thumbs, not knowing what else to say.

“Bast, I-I’m going to miss you.” You finally broke the thick wall of tention building. “I’ll make sure to visit all the time, and-and I’ll write letters! Lots of them! And when you call…I’ll tell you everythi-“

"Hhayi. Do not come back here y/n. Im serious. You're on your way to the most prestigious University in our country. We worked hard for this. Write me. I'll call. But don't come back." She stared into your eyes intent with getting her point across.

“Fine, Aja.” You accompany your attitude with a swift eye roll. “…We were just… supposed to do this together, you know? I can’t imagine doing this with out you. Shit. I don’t even know if I’m capable.” You instantly regretted admitting what’s been bothering you about going to school. You two talked about this for years only for it to be snatched away just like that. You can’t even remember what life was like without Shuri, and you didn’t want to.

Shuri’s tongue rolls over her bruised bottom lip, her brows furrowed reading you like a book as always. “Yo, what’s up? What did you really come here to say.” All the beating around the bush finally caught up to you.

“I mean… I can always just start basics at the community college down the way.” The fiddling with your fingers begins yet again in an attempt to avoid Shuri’s dagger-like glare. “A-at least until you’re out of here, then we can figure out away to do this together.”

“Fuck no! I’m not trying to hear that. You think Bishops Diocesan is going to ever allow me to step foot onto their campus after this!? We worked too hard for you to give it up? Why!? So you can sit her and babysit me!?”

“Shuri! WE!! WE worked so hard, I-“ *holds in a sob* “…I can’t go, not without you. I’m not supposed to do this by myself.”

“Hey!” Shuri spoke up, sitting up straight in her seat. Demanding your undivided attention. “Yiyeke (stop it), I taught you better than that mtwana. I fucked up. I got caught up and ruined my own future. MINE Y/N! Im not allowing you to ruin yours just so you can visit me in prison every other weekend. Life moves on and you need to flow with it. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. I’m not giving you a choice. You’ve got to do this. Live out our dream. For me.”

You could no longer control your tears. “This isn’t fair Shuri. Life’s never fair to you! We almost made it. We were almost out of the Mines, out of Brick district, and this bullshit happens! You deserve this more than me. You’re a fucking genius! We were so fucking close.”

“Stop that! No more tears. Yooou made it baby. That’s enough for me. Don’t wait up for me. Live your life.”

“Wrap it up! 5 minutes!” The guards yelled signaling that your time with the girl that you loved much more than either of you had ever had the chance to say, was coming to a close for the next four years. Now was the time.

“Shuri- I um…” You started timidly. She shook her head.

“Yea..I know. Not now though. I can’t handle that now. Tell me when we’re face to face again..” You nod tearfully.

“Times up people!” For the first time during your visit Shuri gave you a half smile.

“Go to school. Send pictures.” She placed the phone back on the hook not giving you time enough to reply. She gave you a wink, and mouthed “My rider,” with a fist to her chest. Before she stood to her feet, once again holding back a grimace as an officer stepped up to place her back into her cuffs.

You sat with the phone still pressed against your ear as they took her away. Back behind the indestructible vibranium doors.

“Ndiyakuthanda Shuri wam. Forever I’ll ride.”

As Shuri was walked backed to her cell the mixture of compliments and insults sailed her way. “Baby bird” was her least favorite. It spoke to not only her stature, but to her inability to protect herself here. She was in more trouble than she’d let on to you.

She was caught with copious amounts of a strain of Wakandan Cocain laced with vibranium from the mine she’d worked for. It was of her own making. She’d sold the idea to her boss N’jadaka, but everyone called him Killmonger. The product was swiped when they took her in and the money had been spent for her mothers treatments. She was not only taking heat from the police. But, from Killmongers goons. She had a debt to pay.

Her cuffs were removed, and she was roughly placed in her cell. She looked around the six by six room, no longer able to hold on to the tears. She laid onto her steal bunk rolling over onto her side. She placed her pillow to her mouth as she got into fetal position and bawled into her pillow. There was not one inch of her body that wasn’t in pain. They’d taken all of her commissary. And someone had even swiped her bedding.

A pained groan left her lips. As she sighed. Sitting up she stared at the door to her cell. Her new life, her full ride scholarship, and future career as a scientist were flushed down the toilet at the snap of a finger. This was her life now. In order to survive she would have to put you and who she could’ve been in the past. No more weakness. It was time to woman up and make peace with the RAIN!

@udakuwilliams

#Spotify #shuri fanfiction #shuri angst #shuri fic #shuri imagine #shuri smut #shuri udaku #shuri black panther #shuri x you #shuri x reader #shuri #princess shuri #lesbian

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welcomingdisaster · 2 months

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(ao3) There are no harbors in which a star may dock. There is no place in Middle-Earth that might tolerate the brilliant blinding light of the gem nor the white fire of the ship upon landing. No intermediaries, even, who may bear mail down from the sky, except perhaps birds.

Elrond is almost sure it is birds, though he has never seen them.

It happens once every few decades, usually, always on nights when a thick blanket of clouds obscures the sky. Usually he will be woken by the breeze; will find his window open, when he is sure he left it shut. And they will be there, tucked between his correspondence, or into the pockets of his robes, or laid out on his desk.

(Once, only once, when he’d lived briefly on the outskirts of what would become Lindon, taking a year of solitude to pursue his studies, Elrond had awakened to the door unlocked and wet footprints on his floor, a puddle pooling by the bed where someone had stood and looked down at him, the tracks still so fresh it could not been more than an hour since his guest’s departure. He prefers not to think of it.)

The gifts themselves vary, as do the accompanying feelings.

A horrible gnawing grief strikes Elrond at the little ship carved out of a white wood he does not recognize, the craftsmanship precise on the front part, the tiny faces of each individual sailor so clear he can read their expressions, imagine the words they are forming with their lips. But the back is coarsely cut, as though the carver had hurried to finish it in time, the details lost. Elrond stares at two figures on the bow of ship, small and indistinct, and imagines them twins.

He cannot help a childish, guilty resentment at the shimmering green blue tunic, a size too large for him. It is beautiful, woven of a material that is both light and warm, and seems to reflect water and light both. There is a note with it, as there are with so few of the presents; I thought of your favorite hue. But it is not, of course. It had been when he was four and endlessly enamored with the sea; when he was four and his father meant to take him sailing when he grew old enough for it; when he was four and his father had picked him up, kissed him atop the head, and promised to return soon; when he was four and the shore of Sirion was blue and green and peaceful, when children were snatched away only in storybooks and always returned by the end.

Love and longing war for space in his chest at the comb, curved silver and set with pearl, exactly as his mother had worn though perhaps a little nicer; many overlapping layers of metal as waves, each bubble of sea-foam rendered carefully, tiny pearls scattered as stars fallen into the water. There is a single dark hair caught on a tooth, thick and gleaming in the light of his candle. He will not wear it, but tucks it against his heart, and carries it for years in that innermost pocket.

Sometimes he tries to to leave his own gifts on his desk or in the messenger-bag. A poem, a bracelet made with red gemstones and wood in the Numenorian way, a white king carved in ivory. But he can never time it right, can never predict which rainy night will bring such correspondence, and they sit untouched for months before he puts them away again.

#elrond #earendil #my fic

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