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hxney-lemcn · 28 days

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Prince and the Frog — Housewardens x gn! reader

summary: you find yourself cursed and you go to your prince to lift it.

tw: none that I can think of.

a/n: I saw something about the princess and the frog and got inspo. This is so fun, goofy, and lovely, I hope y'all enjoy <3

wc: 1.9k (~300 each character)

Master List

You weren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve this, but even you felt it wasn’t enough. I mean a frog? Really? And the cure was a true love's kiss? Seriously? Can it get any more cliche? You might as well search for a princess and turn her into a frog as well and then set off into a journey of personal growth…you suppose a prince will have to do. You went to the first person you thought could help, time to see if they really would still love you if you were a worm, err…frog.

Riddle Rosehearts

Okay, so maybe Riddle wasn’t technically a prince, but a queen is a step above that, no? You were a little scared of his reaction, but you couldn’t stay a frog forever. Not to mention that someone else had cursed you, it’s not like you turned yourself into a frog. So when you managed to find him he freaked out, mouth agape as you explained your situation. Thank the sevens you could still talk. Riddle’s face soured, lips twisted into a scowl. At first you thought he was going to find a way to collar you in your current slippery state, but he ended up ranting about the person who cursed you, asking for any details that you could provide. The thought of kissing you to break the curse hadn’t even crossed his mind, instead skipping straight to punishing the fool who’d curse the Queen’s rose and making them reverse it. It was then that you learned just how quickly Riddle could sniff someone out if he wanted to, because the effects had been reversed by the end of the same day. (If that doesn’t show you how much he loves you then I don’t know what can).

Leona Kingscholar

…are you sure about this? I mean…yeah he’s a prince and all but he might just toss you mistaking you for a random frog who dared to encroach on his space. The type to argue he wouldn’t have to love you if you were a worm cause how ridiculous is that? Well…not so ridiculous now, huh? Thankfully, you had found Ruggie first, explaining your situation and asking for him to bring you to Leona. Not so thankfully, Ruggie found the entire thing hilarious and had to take a moment to calm himself down. He kept snickering to himself the entire way to Leona, making you want to die, or just stay a frog and live a happy life in a nice little pond and start a little froggy family. When Ruggie managed to tell Leona what was going on in between laughter Leona just stared at you like you were the stupidest motherfucker. Hey! It wasn’t like you were asking to be cursed! Has an internal conflict on what to do. On one hand he wants to prove he’s your true love, and kissing you seems to be the quickest way to get this over with…on the other you are a literal frog. Shooing Ruggie away, Leona bemoaningly gave you the quickest peck ever, making a face of disgust as he pulled away. The transformation back took a few seconds, but the look of disgust quickly turned to a smug smirk, feeling proud that you were truly his.

Azul Ashengrotto

Okay, so again, not an actual prince…but he excelled at potions, so it only made sense…except he’ll probably make you sign your life away. So maybe not a good choice once again. I pray for you because one if not both of the Leech twins are gonna find you first and they’re gonna have a field day. ‘My, you’d look perfect in one of my terrariums’ Jade would note. Floyd would probably accidentally kill you because this entire situation is oh so hilarious and he forgot he’s supposed to be holding you gently. After the two have their fun (Jade plays with you and his terrarium like you're a doll in a dollhouse), they finally bring you to Azul, laughing their asses off in their own ways. Azul stares at you blankly as the two eel brothers leave, trying his hardest to not laugh. His face is red from concealing his humor, looking to the side to collect himself. He’ll offer you the cure, but for a price. Kiss you? He has a reputation to upkeep you know. He can’t be seen kissing frogs, imagine what that’ll do to his image! No, no, just sign the contract, and to sweeten the deal he’ll have the twins deal with the pest who thought it was a good idea to curse his angelfish. If you really persist, he’ll give in eventually. To be fair, he is also curious to see if you're his true love, but on the other hand he’s terrified if you're not. He doesn’t want to lose you. And to both your delight, you transform back after he gives you a small kiss on your little froggy head…he’s also running laps in his mind at how happy he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s a prince and won’t think twice! He loves you truly, so it has to work! Too bad Jamil stumbled upon you first. Adamantly tries to hide you from Kalim and he feels his headache growing ten times worse. Why did you stupidly get yourself cursed? He asks like you did it on purpose. You didn’t know why the guy cursed you either! Jamil keeps you tucked in his hoodie until he can find time to bring you to Professor Crewel. You tried to fight him at first as you’d rather stay a frog than get detention for something you had no control over, but Jamil knew how to keep a tight leash on the unruly…it was his job after all. Unfortunately for him, Kalim walked into the kitchens right as you hopped out of his pocket. At first he was confused, and then even more confused, and then ecstatic. You hopped over to him, asking for him to protect you from Jamil (who was giving you a major side eye). Then you explained your predicament, and Jamil butted in about bringing you to Crewel. Innocently, Kalim offered to kiss you. No need to bother Crewel if the cure was so simple! Jamil couldn’t stop him in time, as Kalim kissed you the second he finished the sentence. Even Jamil couldn’t hide his disgust for a second at the action. Thankfully, Kalim was your true love as you had transformed back, and he hugged you gleefully. Unfortunately for Kalim, you refused any of his kisses until he rinsed his mouth (lmao).

Vil Schoenheit

Another queen. Best person to go to. He can whip up any cure just as fast as he can whip up any potion/poison. Rook, saw the whole encounter with the other student, and brought you to Vil without a second thought. He already knew everything about the idiot who cursed you so no need to stick around. Vil’s gaze turned into a disapproving stare as he looked at you. Even though Rook tried to stick up for you, dramatizing the whole event as stating how brave you were to face such a curse head on, Vil only shook his head. He motioned for Rook to follow him, not wanting to pick you up. He loves you, really he does, he just can’t afford to get his clothes dirty or stained. He picks the ingredients effortlessly, starting to brew the cure without a second thought. Both you and Rook seemed to want to get on his nerves as you both prattle on about true love and how he should kiss you. He didn’t expect you to be a cheesy sap (he’s lying), besides, don’t you know how many curses list true love’s kiss as the cure? The meaning is pointless. Besides, he doesn’t need some curse to prove his love for you, hasn’t he shown you how much you mean to him already? Or was he lacking, because he didn’t think you’d doubt him. Either way, you’re drinking the cure, he couldn’t risk that your slimy frog skin might make him break out. But don’t worry, if you really have room to doubt his love, he’ll make sure you can’t within the week.

Idia Shroud

Hahaha. Again, are you sure? He’s always holed up in his room, the only chance you're brought to him is if Ortho finds you (or vice versa). At first Ortho found you adorable, cooing at you as he floated to Idia’s room. He thought this was the perfect opportunity to show both you and Idia just how much you care for the other. How could either of you doubt the other if it's sealed with a true love's kiss? It was a brilliant opportunity! (Orthos a little too into this). He barely let his brother welcome them in before barging in and shoving a frog (you) into Idia’s face. At first Idia screeched, falling out of his gamer chair and scrambling away from the amphibian. Was Ortho pranking him? That’s totally uncool, he wasn’t some normie. But then Ortho happily blabbed about you and the curse and then it clicked…YOU WERE A FROG? Now he’s rolling on the floor laughing at you. You’d smack him if you WEREN’T A FROG. After he’s done laughing it up, he then freezes. Ortho wants him to kiss you? B-but that's gross! Who knows what diseases he’ll get if he kisses you. k. Wait, don't go to someone else! Fine, he’ll do it, but he won’t like it. Inside, he’s absolutely terrified. His mind is running a mile a minute. He doesn’t think you’ll actually turn back, someone like him doesn’t deserve true love…so imagine the face he makes when you do. Face a bright red, his hair a bright pink. Oh no, he feels faint. Give him a peck on the lips to finish him off.

Malleus Draconia

Uh oh. Queue the thunder and lightning. Whoever cursed you is the stupidest motherfucker. Malleus is the one to stumble upon you this time, to the disdain of his family. Lilia on one hand wanted to laugh about the situation, on the other, he knew he’d have to protect the stupid human from being smite for cursing Malleus’ love. Silver and Sebek are sweating as Malleus holds you gently in his hands. If he thought you were gentle as a human, he’s being ten times more careful with you in your froggy state. On the outside, he’s silent and brooding, on the inside he’s lamenting on finding you an enclosure where you can be happiest. What type of tank, soil, plants, water…someone please tell him this is reversible. Lilia chimes in before the rain outside can get worse, mentioning true love's kiss is able to reverse the effects. Malleus’ green slitted eyes never move from your tiny form, he finds you absolutely breathtaking even as a frog (this man is down so bad), but he’s nothing but relieved when he hears the news. Human lifespans are already small as is, he would’ve been completely gut wrenching if that time was cut even shorter. Another one who doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. This man would love you if you were a worm. He strokes your moist skin gently as he leaves a small kiss to your adorable head. His entire being, soul, mind and body all belong to you, and if that isn’t true love then I don’t know what is. His eyes shine brightly as you transform back, holding you gently as he promises to protect you from any miscreant that dares even look at you wrong…yeah so the guy who cursed you is still fucked and now you have a protective dragon at your heel 24/7.

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luvlyhyunjin · 2 months

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Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Thirty-Five - Flickers Of The Past I.

TW: mentions of disordered eating, diets, mental health issues and suicide.

wc: 8.3

playlist: dollhouse - melanie martinez / cardigan - taylor swift / until i found you - Stephen Sanchez

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The first time you ever saw Hyunjin you were seven years old. It was amid a hot June summer; the scorching hot weather and unforgiving sun were unrelenting. Swearing to make the process of you and your family moving into a new neighborhood absolute hell. Not for you though, the only thing that was causing you discomfort is your long hair. Adding unnecessary layer to provide heat on your neck and causing beads of sweat to roll down it.

Your mom had muttered countless excuses to you. Something about how this time your dad is finally gonna make it. His business is gonna flourish and soon enough you’ll be rich. You didn’t really understand what does having money make any difference? You only wanted three things right now, your mom, dad and one of the cookies that your mom had placed on a plate on the table in front of you. A rumbling in your tummy only confirms your hunger.

“Stay still Y/N.” she warns, pulling slightly on your hair as you had inched forward without noticing. You nodded earning a tsk in return. You stilled, shoulders slumped and trying not squirm in discomfort. The thigh highs your mom forced you to wear cling to your thighs in sweat. Your mom continued brushing your hair, tying your hair in pigtail to start working on the left section of your hair.

“Can I have a cookie mommy?” you ask with a hiss when she finally tied the remaining hair in a pigtail, like the right one. Your mom stood up; her brown hair falls beautifully over her shoulders, resembles silk. She sighs, a line of annoyance between her brows “it’s not time for your snacks yet Y/N.”

“But mommy I’m hungry” your small palm clutched the end of her red dress, a pout that would be described as adorable to anyone else but to your mom it was an eyesore. It was what she always said.

“Don’t be an eyesore Y/N. I don’t care if you’re hungry you need to wait.” She scolded with a stern voice and a glare you were too used to in her eyes. And just like that your small heart crumbles, breaking into pieces right at her feet. She turned away with a huff, her black heels stepping all over your broken heart. Breaking it into smaller pieces just to make sure that you won’t be able to pick it up.

You didn’t cry, despite the lingering heaviness in your heart. You told yourself it didn’t matter; your mom was probably just stressed. She always is whenever you guys moved and with this being the third time already in a year. She was probably overwhelmed. You adjusted the overall strap of your dress that had fallen to lie beside your elbow. An ache in your knees as you stood up. Your big eyes had stayed on the narrow corridor leading to your parent’s room.

You counted to ten and when there was no sign of your mom coming out, your small hand reached for one of the cookies in a hurry. Panic has your heart picking up its pace, a fear clinging to the tips of your fingers. Your other hand clutching the ear of your stuffed bunny, your small feet scrambling in hurry towards the door leaving a trail of cookie crumbs on the floor. The sound of the front door closing echoes in your empty house. Reminding your little mind that this isn’t home it’s nothing but another stop sign along the way.

Once you’re outside, you sit down on the steps of the front porch. Your stuffed bunny sitting by your leg as you chew away on your chocolate chip cookie. Humming in delight with a smile as you turn to watch the two boys playing soccer on your one of neighbor’s lawn. It wasn’t fun to watch simply because you did not understand a thing, did not understand if they were good or bad. Why was the girl cheering, on the ground with catlike eyes and a big smile. Was she cheering them both or one of them?

As if on instinct one of the boys had noticed you, leaving their game unattended to look at you. Locking eyes with you had you frozen in place, the cookie half way into your mouth. For an odd reason an uncomfortable feeling had travelled its way through your body, like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have perhaps that’s why when the boy with midnight black hair, a mole under his right eye, waved at you with overflowing excitement, your face burned, and you turned away. Walking back to your house in hurrying manner. A strange feeling in your chest. You blamed it on the boy’s smile, it was as bright as the sun.

Three weeks exactly after that you saw him again. You were waiting at the bus stop, short legs swinging back and forth as you sat comfortably on the wooden bench. Your dark hair is tied into a high ponytail and away from your face. Your pink skirt and matching thigh highs were added cuteness to your already chubby cheeks or at least that’s what the lady next door had said to you. It had earned you two small cartons of strawberry milk. One that is between your hands and its straw in your mouth while the other is protected in your pink bunny backpack.

The sound of sniffles had your ears perked up; attention stole. Looking to where they were coming from you saw a small boy, almost the same size as you, curled up on the sidewalk. Head in his hands. You eyed him curiously, a bit surprised by the number of adults passing by and not sparing him a glance. You weren’t really a brave kid, always more on the shy side, refusing to talk to strangers and clinging to your mother’s leg during social events. So, what you did next was definitely out of character for you.

Jumping down the bench, you threw your now empty carton of milk into a nearby trashcan. A hop in your step, the sun warming the coldness in your palms as you settled right beside him. Shoulders brushing and with your presence he looked up, eyes red and tear streaks over his pretty mole. You were surprised, didn’t expect it to be the boy from your neighborhood.

“Why are you crying?” you had asked, head tilting in spirit of inquiry. The boy eyes sharpen, a childish glint in them as he crossed his arms over his chest “I’m not crying!” he defended weakly, bottom lip trembling “mom said big boys like me never cry!” as if mocking him a tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another just to break down the act he worked so hard on putting on.

Your chest had tightened painfully in sympathy, an emotion you still didn’t know what to call.

“But it’s okay to cry when you’re sad doesn’t matter if you’re big or small.” The words came to your small brain like common sense, colored in innocence. He shook his head stubbornly, despite the sniffles escaping his mouth. Your own lips have formed into a pout, searching your brain for a way to make his sadness disappear.

“What happened?” you finally asked after a while, a black cat taking its place next to your leg. You scratched behind its ear with a smile and Hyunjin watched you with tear clouded vision.

“I-I think my dad is sick.” He muttered between sniffles; you furrowed your brows “tell him to take some medicine. Mommy always gives me that when I’m sick. It tastes awful but it makes me feel better.”

“I told my mom that too.” Hyunjin replies, his own hand reaching over your lap to scratch at the cat’s ears. It starts purring, eyes closed in bliss “but she says he’s sick in here.” He explains by pointing to his head with his index finger and a pout on his pink lips. You grow even more confused haven’t heard of people being sick in the head, but you keep quiet. Nodding in faux understanding as you tell yourself you should read about it later. A short silence settles between you two when the cat jumps into Hyunjin’s lap and curls on itself.

Hyunjin chuckles, the only evidence of his sadness is the lines of tears drying on his cheeks “she likes me!” Hyunjin mumbles cheerfully as he turns to you with a big smile, the same one you saw three weeks ago and that was as warm as the sun. You smile back at him “yeah.”

At the end of the street, you notice your familiar school bus making its way towards the stop “I have to go now.” You announce standing up and adjusting the straps of your backpack. Hyunjin pays you no mind, nodding slightly as he is too immersed in his excitement about petting the cat on his lap. You loiter, staring at the boy before unzipping your pink backpack and taking out the strawberry milk you were planning on drinking later.

“Take this.” You said, outstretching your hand to him with the carton. Hyunjin looked up, eyes widening slightly in surprise “I don’t like strawberry milk.”

“But why? It tastes good and it helps me when I’m feeling down.”

“Really?”

“Yes! I was feeling down this morning but now I’m so much better!” you boosted, an enthusiasm in your voice that had him growing slightly excited as well. He took it, a pink coloring his cheeks as this has been the first time he had ever taken anything from a girl aside from Yeji “Okay!”

“Later sad boy!” you waved with a big smile, his own words of protest left unsaid when you turned around and ran towards the bus stop.

After that day you never saw Hyunjin, not around the bus stop and nowhere around the neighborhood. You heard your mom and the women next door talk about how the Hwang’s moved away because her husband has passed away. It didn’t make much sense to you back then, but you only remember realizing that you never asked for his name, and he never asked for yours.

You don’t see Hyunjin again until you’re sixteen. It’s another wheel of destiny that spins you around just to throw you in the same spot as him, for you guys to clash into one another. But back then, you hadn’t realized it yet. It was a similar cycle, an old record that had played repeatedly till you memorized all the tracks. You had just moved to a new neighborhood, a house bigger than your last one, a more modern version than the last one with marble floors and big glass windows, a slick black aesthetically pleasing kitchen. It all meant nothing to your mom though, not good enough because even though your dad was making a lot more money than last year. He wasn’t rich enough for his name to mean something. It’s evident in the way your mom grumbles all afternoon, brows knitted and a scowl permanent on her face. You ignore her, lazing around on the couch in the living room and counting the number of black dots decorating the ceiling.

The faint sound of music coming from the turned on tv aids you in keeping your mind off your reality.

“Y/N! come on it’s time for your meal!” she calls for you from the kitchen, voice sounding a bit far just to remind you of the bigger space of this house. You sigh, rolling off the couch and onto your feet, passing by the unopened boxes and through foyer the only seems to grow longer with every house. You make it to the kitchen to be greeted with the plate your mom had made specifically for you, a bunch of steamed vegetables. Broccoli, carrots, and peas.

A sour taste settles in your throat, the emptiness of your stomach nudges to ask for more and you contemplate it, fingers drumming on the kitchen island.

“Can I at least have protein?” you finally ask, voice weak and unsure and your body wavers in similar weakness when your mom turns to face you with a hateful glare. As if she’s offended “You had protein for breakfast that’s enough.” She spits with disgust dousing her tone, and you don’t need her to say more to know exactly what she’s thinking, it’s the way her eyes trail over your body with a wrinkled nose. As if she hates to look at you.

“But I’m hungry.” You try to argue, ignoring the goosebumps raising on your body due to her harsh eyes.

“Being a little hungry won’t kill you Y/N. Now eat your food and shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” She rubs her hand over his face and then through her hair, an act of stress and your anxiety renders you mute. But your mother never stops and that’s always been her downfall. A greed that’s never full and it’s the same way with her mouth, always spilling venom and leaving it behind for you to clean up.

“Just look at your body, always talking about how hungry you are no wonder none of the diets are working.” She’s talking to herself, you realize that. And it’s not something you haven’t heard before, so you don’t know why it triggered you that day. Maybe it was another card destiny had thrown on your unfortunate table.

“I don’t fucking care about my body” the words have divulged from your mouth without warning, spilling like vomit. It was the first time you cursed in front of your mom, the first time you argued this long for a while, but you don’t get to dwell on the thought, don’t get to reflect long enough when her palms come in contact with your right cheek in a burning slap.

It’s not the first time she has hit you, it happened a few times before, so you wonder why does is it more agonizing each time? Why do your eyes still fill with tears and why does betrayal seep into your eyes, into your shocked look at her. As if she was anything different than a snake who sank her teeth into you. But she looks at you as if you’re a criminal who had stabbed her right in the heart, feed on it and threw the rest to dogs.

“Go to your room no food for you today.” It was a punishment you knew was waiting for you down the line the longer you had talked. And the best way to deal with all this was to take it but instead you run away. An ocean of tears had clouded your vision and you had somehow ended up on the beach. Sniffling as you hugged your legs to your body.

Now that you think about it you know fate had played you, placed you in another position where you would have no choice but to run into him, you had no choice but to be cursed by him but that’s not how you felt when his ball hit you, it’s not what you felt when even more tears had streamed down your face because what else could go wrong?

Frustration had bubbled in your blood, blending itself with your sadness to form a puddle of overwhelmingly painful emotions that you had no choice but to lay in. It gets worse when Hyunjin had jogged your worry, his apology dies on his tongue when you make eye contact with him. Teary yet fiery eyes pierce his soul, and he was never the type to be left speechless. It comes to him like a flame blown out from a candle and the heat burns him.

At his name being called, he picks his ball and turns away. The face of the crying girl on the beach leaves him awake an hour longer at night.

The second time you see Hyunjin it’s in the halls of your school. It was early in the morning, the halls bustling with students rushing to their first class. You were by your locker, getting your biology book out and once you closed it shut the last thing you expected to see that morning is the face of none other than Hyunjin. Leaning on the locker next to you with a tight smile on his face

“Hi.” He says and somehow his voice is nothing like you expected, it ends up being on the sweeter side, pleasant to hear.

“Hey?” you reply with an edge of confusion in your tone, clear enough that it makes him nervous. Pushing a hand through his already pushed back black hair “I’m Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin.” You nod signaling for him to continue, by now you already knew who Hyunjin was. It was impossible not to know him when his name was on everyone’s tongue. The talk about the endless impressive acts of his are a record you had to endure daily from every student you come across. From his outstanding dance skills at the dance club to his impressive plays on the field during soccer games. Getting the captain title was a piece of cake for him, a piece he hadn’t even planned on eating, but it ended up right on his plate by its own.

His silence stretches a minute or two too long as if he’s waiting for you to say something back, when you don’t, he clears his throat in attempt to regain his missing confidence “Uh- I hit you with my ball last week. At the beach? Remember?”

“I do,”

“Great! Uh I’m sorry about that.”

“it’s okay.” You assure with a smile in hope it will dissipate the awkwardness “how is your head by the way?” he trails bunglingly, fingers pointing to your head.

“I still have my memories so I’m probably fine” You reply with a soft smile. Amusement swims in your eyes at the way he acts, the way he won’t meet your eyes for longer than a second before they travel elsewhere. Randomly staring at a few lockers away.

Hyunjin’s blush colored lips twitch upwards in mimicking smile, a breath of a chuckle escapes him “that’s a relief.” He says, bouncing on the heels of his feet with his hands buried in the front pockets of his school uniform.

Another awkward silence settles between you two, he looks as if he has something more to say but the words won’t come out, you try not to rush him, try to wait for him to just spit out but when it stretches. You clear your throat to capture his wandering eyes, they lock with yours, widening as a nervous pink blush takes its place on his pale cheeks “Well I better head to class.”

“Yeah of course.” He nods. Taking a step to the side to move out of the way and with another faint smile of yours you go on your own way. Once you pass by him the smell of peaches and cream coats the inside of your nose and stays there far longer than you anticipated.

If you count the time, you’re sure it’s exactly sixty seconds and if you’re a little bit off then it won’t be more than eighty seconds before you feel his hand circle your wrist, halting your movement with a rushed out “wait!”

His palm is warm, yet his rings are cold as ice, and they leave you more buzzled when you turn to look at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Your name,” he sounds breathless, and you wonder why “you didn’t tell me your name.” the halls had started to empty, reminding you that you’re late to your first period already. The dying noise brings attention to the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and something else in the distance. If you focus hard enough you swear you could hear the chirping of birds as if they’re signaling the beginning of something you aren’t aware of yet.

If your life was a book this will be the chapter where everything changes and flips upside down, the chapter where you begin to see how large the real world is compared to this small bubble you thought was the world. And all what it’d take is a singular look at Hyunjin’s dark eyes. And if this was somehow a movie it would be the beginning of a fairytale like arc and a soft tune with overflowing lovestruck words would be playing right now. Swirling around and tempting you into a spell that tastes like nothing but pure gold and affection.

But this wasn’t a book nor a movie.

“Y/N” you say “Song Y/N.”

This was a game fate had started and choose you as the main player. The only problem was the rules were never explained and your purpose has yet to be found. Years later when you look back at your meeting you remember how Hyunjin never asked you about the fact that you were crying or the glaringly obvious red mark on your cheek.

You’re thankful.

The next time you see Hyunjin it’s in detention. Given his reputation you shouldn’t be surprised but given your reputation he is more than surprised when he notices you there. His bored and cold stare had transformed into a wide eyed one, eagerness filling his limbs into jumbled tapping of his foot on the floor. Grinding on his teeth as he chewed slowly on his mint flavored gum. Eyes pasted at you, you who was sitting a few seats way from him, you who was too immersed in whatever you were doing on your notebook to spare a glance in his way. Your dark hair falling over the side of your face like a barrier depriving him of stealing glances at your face. It left him withering away in disappointment he didn’t quite understand.

Truth, is you didn’t deserve to be here, well at least partly. Last night you stayed late, working on a brand-new idea you had for a jacket design. You were so focused on it and hadn’t realized the number of hours that had passed by. Once your neck had started aching from your position, fingers sore, you had finally looked at the clock placed next you, you were shocked to see it’s already 3 am. So, when you ended up dozing off the next day and falling asleep in chem class. You did not expect the punishment to be detention. You had argued with your teacher. It was a bad idea because it only resulted in a week worth of detention.

However, now that you’re here you realize it is not that bad. It was quiet, the other students dozing off along with the teacher that was assigned to watch you. It was an opportunity for you to finish your designs. Away from your mother’s nagging and your father’s freezing stare.

You feel it then, something hitting your shoulder to steal your attention from your drawing. You look down at the crumpled piece of paper by your shoes.

Hyunjin gauges your reaction, watches as you elegantly tuck your hair behind your ear. Brows furrowing in confusion as you bend down and pick up the paper. Pulling your pretty lips into an even prettier pout as you open the paper only to find it empty. Only to discern it was an attempt to capture an ounce of your attention. You’re surrounded in softness that has him drowning in jealousy, wishing he was a piece of paper just to be held by you.

He watches as your eyes scan the room, looking for a culprit to blame and then they’re landing on him. Bullseye.

Hyunjin plays his role way too well, leans in his chair with his soccer varsity jacket on. A spread in his legs. Undeterred by the speeding beats of his heart, palms watering in nervous sweat the longer your darling eyes are on him. His own hand raises in a wave, a wink colored in confidence he lacked last time is thrown your way. You feel a wave of shyness wash over you at his unexpected forwardness. Your lips curl into a sheepish smile, a shake of your head as you look away and back down at your notebook.

As if you have given him the green light. Energy surges through his body, overshadowing his nerves and he moves as if your smile has been a magic spell you so willingly put on him. And the empty seat in front of you is taken by him. You smell him before you see him, a whirlwind of emotions swim through you when he’s face to face with you, his back to the sleeping teacher.

“Song Y/N.” he greets with a grin, charm clings to his features and your eyes linger on his mole. Sending familiarity to your mind. Raking through it but finding nowhere to place it.

“Hwang Hyunjin.” You greet back, leaning back in your seat, arms stretching in front of you to cover your notebook.

His eyes flicker to it momentarily before going back to your face. A fresh glint is in there, a pleasant one like he’s happy you remember his name.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” There’s a pleasant breathy edge to his voice.

“I don’t fit in here?” you ask playfully, tilting your head and he’s almost suffocating on your beauty. Didn’t think it’s possible for someone like you to exist.

“Good girls don’t belong in detention.”

“How do you know I’m a good girl? I might have a wild side to me.” You challenge with a raised brow. With his heart beating wildly in his chest when he reaches forward, his fingers drum on the wood of your table almost brushing against your hand “I’d love to see that.”

You hum, his hand radiating heat that spreads through your body despite the fact that he isn’t touching you “well I expected seeing you here, so I guess that helps with your bad boy image.” You comment.

“Bad boy image?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that why you walk around with a cigarette tucked behind your ear?”

“Oh.” His other hand reaches for the poisonous stick he forgot he placed there “that’s why everyone was glaring at me earlier.”

There’s a short silence that fills the small spaces between your bodies, melting on your skin and in your throat begging you to speak the longer his eyes watch you “what are you here for?” you ask after a while, Hyunjin blinks as if he had forgotten the moment he was in, as if he was lost in you, aa if you were anything deserving to get lost in.

“I got caught smoking in the bathroom.” He says stonily “and you?”

“I got caught sleeping in class,” you reply with a shrug, and he chuckles, amused at how different you two are in the best possible way. It ignites something in him, waters a field he didn’t know was abandoned in his heart.

“What are you writing?” he asks, pointing with his eyes at the notebook you’re still hiding. You hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip before tentatively removing your hands, allowing him to look. And he does, ever so eager as his eyes study the sketch of your design.

“You did this?” he asks with wide shinning eyes, and you wordlessly nod “Y/N it’s amazing!”

“You really think so?” you ask and Hyunjin’s grin widens in response “yes! You’re so talented holy fuck!” he exclaims in strives to convince you. His tone raising in volume before he slaps his hand to his mouth, eyes wide and he turns around to check if he disturbed the sleep of the teacher. He still snores peacefully.

You break into a fit of giggles, a sound he did not expect to hear and when he turns back to you. Your small hand is covering your mouth. The sight has butterflies roaming through his stomach, violently as if fighting for a way to come out. His own lips stretching into a smile until your laughter dies down, settling into an awkward silence as you avoid his eyes.

“You’re cute, Song Y/N.” he says absentmindedly, as if he didn’t mean for them to run away from his mind to his tongue but he doesn’t flatter, doesn’t take it away and you bask in the way it makes you feel. In the way your face burns as you grip your pencil and resumed the swirls of your hand, running away from his words only for them to hunt you down again.

The rest of detention had passed in a tranquil silence, despite the windows being closed you had felt incredibly warm. It courses through your heart, bumping life into the dull ache that has settled there. The warmth of Hyunjin’s gaze had lingered, it seared on your being even after weeks of not seeing him again.

You don’t see Hyunjin for a long while after that, not until the end of the semester. A week before summer break and during preparation for your school’s summer festival. A yearly event that they held. In the midst of your group making a sign with unmatching colors for your class you had ran out of color, grumbling and complaining they argued on who should go get more “I’ll go get it.” You volunteered, killing their argument successfully and earning thank yous in return.

You strolled along the running track on your way to the main building taking your time as you had grown tired from working all day. It felt like a nice break. Your hand swings back and forth capping and uncapping the sharpie pen you didn’t realize you picked up when you got up. Your eyes linger to your left, watching the soccer practice that is taking place. It wasn’t hard to notice him, the star of the team. The hushed whispers of nearby students remind you that you’re all enamored by the same person.

It is these specific moments that have you grasping the reality of how different you and Hyunjin are. It dawns on you like a cold bucket of water, you didn’t think about it much, didn’t think about him much but it’s like when you see him you can’t stop. Every time you see him you know he will haunt your mind for a few nights after. Perhaps that’s why your steps had come to a stop. Hyunjin had once again managed to filch attention you weren’t willing to give but that was just the kind of person he was. He easily captured the attention of everyone around him, admiring him. That’s the thing with Hyunjin, it was so easy to admire him. And maybe that’s why you had made it a challenge with yourself to be different. To not be a person who waits around the corner just to steal a look at him.

When Hyunjin notices you, eyes widen in gleam and a beam on his face. You don’t think about how fast you fail. And when he waves at you from a distance. A scene so strikingly familiar it has you confused. Your challenge collapses as fast as it comes, lying pathetically by your feet as you wait, just like every other admirer you wait as Hyunjin says something to his teammates. Two of them you recognize because they’re always around him, Lee Felix and Kim Seungmin. You had smiled at them, in attempts to be friendly and kind. It was part of your building reputation after all.

Back then, you were once again proven to be naïve. Constantly pushed into the shadow as destiny liked to fuck with you. You didn’t know it back then, that soon enough Kim Seungmin, the Seungmin you smiled so willingly at would be the same person who’s aiming a blade at you, you didn’t know the amount of pain he’d inflict on you.

Hyunjin is jogging towards you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he isn’t fast enough, his soccer uniform is a tad too big on him. His lithe body leaves space.

“Song Y/N.” he’s out of breath when he’s next to you, sweat rolling down his exposed forehead as he grins at you.

“Hwang Hyunjin.” You greet back as usual.

“I didn’t know you were watching me.” His hand starts wiping away at his sweat, brushing through his hair multiple times as if he’s suddenly feeling self-conscious about his disheveled appearance. It has smile tugging at the corner of your lips “I was just passing by,” you explain lightly, a palpable tension oozes around you the longer he keeps his eyes on you. His stare burns as hot as the sun above.

“Nice ears by the way,” he comments, eyes flickering to the top of your head, and you subconsciously reach for it, your hand touches the fake fur of your cat ears that you had completely forgot you put on. Your face burns in embarrassment while his eyes light up as if witnessing a rare scene.

“My class is doing a cat slash zodiac café thing.” You fumble with your words to explain, your nerves show in the way you go back to capping and uncapping the lid of your pen “sounds like a lot, Y/N.”

“It is.” You answer shortly and he hums into the momentary silence “what’s your zodiac sign?” he suddenly asks and you’re thankful for the change of subject, you show him your wrist, the symbol of your sign your group had drawn for you.

“What’s yours?” you ask, tone curious and gentle. Feels like feathers against his skin as he swallows back nothing “not sure, I was born on the 20th of march.”

“Ah, you’re a Pisces.”

“What does that mean?” he wonders, eyebrows furrowing in thought.

“That you’re a sensitive baby.” You let a playful smile climb to the corners of your lips, lifting over the wall of slight awkwardness that stays around you two. He pauses at the glimpse of it, his own lips quirking upwards, and he rolls his eyes “are we at least compatible?”

“I think we might be the worst match out there.” You reply, giggling faintly. Hyunjin watches you, a garden of flowers blossom in his throat, taking every word he could say back to you. Your softness is prodigious, delicate in ways he wasn’t aware of.

“I have to go.” You say after a while and Hyunjin blinks rapidly, realizes he had done nothing but stare at you like a fool.

“Wait,” his voice is hoarse, his hand that stop you only touch you for a mere minute before he retracts it, it leaves you burning for more “Can I uh-“ he nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hand, eyes lolling everywhere “Can I have your Instagram or something?”

“I don’t really use Instagram.”

“oh.” Hyunjin’s eyes drop in disappointment, so glaringly obvious and you feel like a criminal who had stolen his light. Maybe you felt sorry and maybe that’s why you decided to light a match for him.

“I can give you my number instead.”

Was it then? That your heart had decided to surrender? Or was it when he messaged you for the first time that night with a link to an article, talking about how your signs are in fact compatible.

When was it exactly that you had become a willing victim of his?

On the last night of your summer break you saw Hyunjin again, passing by a skate park in your off white vintage two-piece your mother had picked out for you, your heels leaves a dull ache in your body leaving a trail of disappointment behind you with every step you take, evidence of another failed blind date your mother had set you up on.

“Hwang Hyunjin.” You had spoken first that night and he froze, a cigarette mid-way to his lips as he stared at you in complete awe. As if he couldn’t believe you were real, as if you were a mirage and you were gonna be gone if he blinks. You looked so beautiful to him, you always did. You were the only person capable of making his breath hitch.

“Song Y/N.” he says breathlessly “Wow! You look amazing,” his eyes rake over you appreciatively, you were incredulously pretty. A goddess that threats to steal his remaining sanity.

“Thank you,” you mumble, something akin to relief had spread through your body at the sight of him, you hadn’t realize how rigid you were until your eyes met, melting the tension in the folds of your feature with a single glance of his.

Have you already surrendered?

“Back from a date?” he asks clearing his throat after noticing how hard he was staring at you, he twirls the white stick of poison between his fingers. How lucky, you can’t help but think.

“A blind date,” you specify “it was horrible.” You trail off, eyes fliting to his group of friends behind him before they’re back on him.

You’re not sure of what kind of expression you had on, not sure if Hyunjin had maybe pitied you. If maybe he felt nicer than he’d like and that’s why you ended up sitting next to each other on the beach. He lent you his dark flannel and you used it to cover your bare legs. Your shoulders bump as he splits his sandwich in half and hands you the bigger piece. Your heart was beating wildly, the warmth of his shoulder somehow spreads through your entire being leaving you wondering how could a single person radiate this much warmth?

“It’s kinda spicy,” he says through a bite, acting so naturally and it’s unfair the way he leaves you caught between his dark eyes and his nice gestures.

“I like spicy food,” you retorted taking a bite from your own half, he hums, watches as you chew and doesn’t look away until you’re nodding in satisfaction.

“So, how bad was your date?”

“It had me questioning if I’m even attracted to men. That bad.” Hyunjin chuckles but doesn’t say anything, he looks captivated by you. Watches the way your fingers wipe off the corner of your mouth despite it being clean, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. The way you hum in delight as you take another bite of your sandwich, the sullen expression you had earlier is nowhere in sight. Was it normal to be this interested in such small mannerism? He felt peculiar.

“Do you think soulmates exist?” You ask after a while of silence, tone soft and content and your food is long gone.

“My answer is a little complicated.”

“Tell me, “You say, turning to look at him as you lay your head on your bent knees. He sees the moon in the flickers of light in your eyes. How exceptional you are, stealing the attention of the great moon. How could he ever not be defeated by you?

“I do think soulmates exist, but I don’t everyone is lucky to meet their own.”

“How come?”

“I just don’t think it’s not realistic for everyone to meet their soulmate. Not everyone can be lucky and happy that’s not how the world works.” He replies with a shrug, mirroring you as he leans his head on his knees. The sound of the waves fills the empty spaces between your words “What about you? Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I don’t,”

“Why?”

“I don’t know I just don’t think they exist. I don’t believe in forever and all that other stuff.”

“You don’t think someone is gonna love you forever someday?” he asks, tone soft and faint. And somehow it feels like there’s no room in your heart anymore for oxygen. It’s all taken by him. And you’re suddenly consumed by him without realizing it. His delicacy waters your heart, it’s in the flannel on your legs, in the scent that had now stuck to your body and it’s in the food you shared. His tenderness was unwonted for you.

Is that why you craved for more? Is that why you wondered if you could just fall?

“The idea of loving someone forever sounds ridiculous.” Hyunjin never said anything back to that, a tranquil hush had fallen over you two. Both of you quietly gaze at each other, entranced by one another. And a foolish little sparkle had formed in the middle of your heart, spreading its light through your being and birthing even more sparkles into your soul.

Was this another a test by destiny you failed or was it possible for him to fall too

Hyunjin had lingered by your doorstep that night, swaying on his feet. The night breeze is cooling as it brushes against you. And his flannel is now around you. His scent mixes with yours, leaving you feeling intoxicated.

“What?” you asked with a hint of a smile. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes vulnerable as they stare you down. “I’m just feeling somewhat sad.” he makes no attempt to conceal it.

“Why?” your voice sounded as frail as your swaying feelings.

“I don’t know. I guess I regret spending the entire summer chickening out when everyday could have been like today.”

Back then you had found his sadness to be indiscreetly foolish . It’s not like you were gonna dissolve into thin air. You had next summer and the one after. You had the upcoming winter and the one after. You had so much time coming or at least that’s what you thought. You wonder if Hyunjin felt it, if he felt your time running out already and just like you, he had desperately tried to clutch onto it. To squeeze himself into every passing second where you coexisted in the same space.

You didn’t know it then, that your own words would return to you tenth fold. You didn’t know that the words you spoke ever so causally were gonna be your dreading reality. You didn’t know you’d break down to the point where you’d hold on to a sliver line of hope wishing for it to someday bleed into the forever you once said you didn’t believe in.

You were constantly at the edge of your seat, every time Hyunjin had turned his back to you it left you drowning even more and wondering if tomorrow he’s gonna be there. You had prepared yourself all this time and yet when Hyunjin turned his back to you for the last time. It broke you.

The sliver of hope had ended up killing you.

Looking back at it now you think that your sixteenth summer might have been the last moments of your sincerity, the last few moments before change had barged in, breaking your door down and taking place in you to turn you into something you weren’t able to escape. a snake that you pretended to like being in the skin of.

On the morning of your 17th birthday the planets had shifted and just like always you were a pawn in this game fate liked to play. your fairytale like arc had ended. To commingle into something new, an agony that had spreads its roots into your life. Vow to not never leave unless it made a mark on you, unless it sucked the life out of and diluted you to nothing but an immense penumbra.

You were taking a stroll outside on your bicycle, the wind dancing its way in your hair. A cool breeze that draws a smile on your face settling into a peaceful warmth in the center of your chest. You hadn’t anticipated the break of it all. The dull darkness that had replaced every sense of and shape of light you had ever known. It all came in sudden waves, seeing your dad’s car parked three streets away was a surprise that had soon melted into curiosity as you inched closer to look. You didn’t think of why, didn’t think about the consequences. You were naive and that became your downfall when you peeked inside the car and saw your dad with another woman, your dad kissing another woman, your dad’s hand in another woman’s hair.

That morning you had experienced your first heartbreak, and it was caused by no one other than your own father.

“Make a wish Y/N.” your mother said, placing the sugar free vanilla cake she had purchased two days ago, and you ended up seeing in fridge in front of you. You didn’t feel happy, not an excited bone in your body. Instead, all you felt was betrayal and rage, melting into liquid to run through your veins. It transmitted through your eyes, sharp as they glared at your father who sat across of you. Sipping on his coffee.

“Go on.” Your mom urged you with a push to your shoulder. You stared at the candle, your heart catching on fire alongside it. You close your eyes, you draw in a deep, shuddering breath. And you blow on it. Your mother doesn’t clap and neither does your father. He’s scrolling through his phone and your mother takes the cake from in front of you.

“I’ll give you a piece after dinner.” She says and you wordlessly nod. Fresh pain swims in you the longer you look at him, the longer you notice how indifferent he looked. Was a guilty man supposed to be this relaxed? Did he even care? Just for how long he has been doing this? The questions overwhelm you, leaving you feeling choked.

Your phone’s screen lights up and your eyes flicker to the coming message.

Hyunjin: Meet you at our spot in 5? I have something I wanna give you.

“I’m going out for a bit,” you announce, standing up from your seat with one last glare sent your father’s way.

“What? Dinner’s almost ready. Where are you going?” your mother scolded, followed you as you were putting on your shoes “I’m seeing Hyunjin for a bit.” You explained frigidly, not letting her huff of annoyance affect you.

“Again? All you do is spend time with that Hwang kid! I told you a million times he isn’t good-“you close the door shut with a slam.

Once you see Hyunjin standing on the beach, his back to you as he stared at the sea immersed in the crashing waves, you felt the same waves crash against the walls of your heart. Washing it into a tempest of blues that you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling. It wraps around your ankles and drags you down, threatening to make you one with the sand. Taking wobbly steps to him, you wish it would happen.

“Hyunjin.” You call once you’re close, once you’re in an appropriate distance for your heart not to jump and attack his. He turns around and your heart is weaker than you hope for. Jumping out of your grasp and into him.

Please give it back.

“Y/N!” his voice is airy, light enough to blend in with your blood, light enough to have you wishing he was running through your veins.

“Hey.” You breath in faux cheerfulness, a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes but he doesn’t get to dwell on it because with three quick steps he’s in your presence, destroying your safe distance as he pulls you into him with a hug, arms around your waist. His scent invades your space and your fingers desperately clutch the fabric of his white shirt, tears brimming in your waterline.

When he pulls back, his cold hands are cupping your cheeks. It has goosebumps and tingles littering along your spine. “what’s wrong?” he asks gently, his concerned eyes search your own. Letting loose, your tears fall like a waterfall that can’t be stopped “I’m just overwhelmed.” You chuckle, humorlessly.

“About what?”

“I’m getting old,” you sniffle and Hyunjin is smiling, a comfort he doesn’t know he can provide “you’re an idiot Y/N.” he shakes his head at you, and you agree.

“Well hopefully this will cheer you up.” He tells you, eyes glinting with happiness you wish to never leave him, you wish for him to always shine this brightly and maybe that’s why you didn’t tell him back then, the burden you carried felt too heavy for his softening gaze. You watch as he reaches in his pocket, he gauges your reactions as he pulls out a silver chain, a bracelet. Eyes dancing with overflowing emotions as he clasps it around your wrist.

You look at it only to realize that the letter ‘H’ dangles at the end of it, he raises his own wrist to show you a matching chain around his, your initial dangles from it “We’re matching.” He tells you with a grin and just like that Hyunjin had once again managed to pick the broken pieces of your heart and glue it together with emotions you shouldn’t feel.

You bury your face in your hands, overwhelmed and stolen away again by his charm. He had pulled you from the sinking sand under your feet and into his embrace instead. Wrapping you into the delicacy you run away from only to end up drowned in.

The day you turned seventeen your serial mendacious had began with two lies, the first was a witless venture to protect your family. You thought if you kept quiet then you could save them maybe someday, you’ll be able to mend them back together. It was an idiotic idea.

The second lie didn’t matter because you were certain Hyunjin would never feel the same way about you. It was an idiotic idea to explore as well. How could the sun possibly be attached to a dying speck of light?

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ostrichmonkey-games · 10 months

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OC Incubators: TTRPG Design for Making Cool Little Guys

I've been thinking a lot about why some people like to play Certain Games and how that intersects with action figure style play and the desire to make your own little blorbos.

What is it about Certain Games (which will not be named so I don't go down a rabbit-hole of breaking apart that game's design lmao) that really gets people's sitting down and just making a whole bunch of cool OCs? You know, your zany wizards, sexy demony bards, and all of that.

So, I've talked a lot about this with some people (shoutout to @temporalhiccup), and I'm not the only person to be thinking on similar wavelengths (check out this fun read by @sprintingowl), and in those discussions and in that reading, I've put together a few what I think are Key Ingredients for making ttrpg that is also an OC incubator. At least, in the sense of how I would want to do it.

So first, what is an OC Incubator? My definition is basically any sort of semi-sandbox/open ended game where you make your own cool character and then go do cool things. Along the way of doing those cool things, you come up with cool stories and have your OC evolve in even more cool ways. Cool, yeah?

Here are the key ingredients I've identified for the incubator stew (store bought is fine);

Character Options

Character Potential

An Inviting Sandbox

So let's break these down a bit more below;

Character Options

Character options is the most straightforward of the points. You need interesting and fun options - building blocks - for the players to craft their little guys from. Options that are exciting and easily communicate their core identity quickly.

A lot of this is walking a fine balance of providing enough options that making a choice is exciting, but not too many so as to be overwhelming.

But ultimately, these options are there to hit the dollmaker, picrew, character customization screen, itch. It should be fun to make all those decisions.

Aside: I gotta do more stuff with lifepath systems.

Of all the main ingredients to our incubator, character options are probably the easiest to come up.

Character Potential

This is where things start to get a little more complicated. Potential is all about aspiration. It's less about being able to get to that point, but more about "oh wow, look at all these extra things my cool OC could do".

These options are something to look forward to, something to think about. Neat cool extra doodads for making your cool little oc even cooler and expand on your cool little oc's story like milestones and growth.

In a lot of ways, these sorts of options are just an iteration of the initial character options you use when making your character. These are probably going to expand on core elements of the character options (class or playbook abilities, etc).

Again, the key point is potential and aspiration. To make you think about the future of the character.

I think, ideally, a game is intrinsically rewarding to play. You play it because its fun, not to get some sort of external reward. Play to play. But it also can be fun to put some carrots on the stick.\

As a treat.

Inviting Sandbox

The setting and premise of the game needs to invite players in. It's the big fancy dollhouse for all your cool toys. There needs to be space to play in it, but also there needs to be something to still play in! Some games are operating at an advantage: with well established settings that have been around for years and/or using a setting that utilizes tropes and ideas that also have been established for years. You know. Elves and stuff.

But! You absolutely do not need a well established setting or play with well established tropes to make an inviting sandbox! The main criteria is that it is inviting. Whatever that means to you, go for it. For me, an inviting setting, one that would make me want to play around in, needs;

Enough foundation to guide the play. What are the major players and assumptions of the settings? Give me the overview and broad strokes first!

Enough space for the table to add to while they play in. If every thing is set in stone, then what are we playing in this sandbox for? You need some sand to sculpt! Put some sand in your sandbox!

I could spend a lot more time talking about settings, sandboxes, and how it all circles back to anti-canon, but that's a story for another post.

Mixing It All Together

So, with those ingredients identified, how do you go about layering them all together? How should they interact with each other? And the easy answer is "I don't know, figure it out."

But also, I don't entirely know. You gotta figure that out for yourself. That's part of the design process. I don't think there's one singular way to "design" around getting people to have fun whipping together some cool OCs and then playing around with them together. In many senses, you can do that in practically any game. But for some of my current projects, I want to try keeping the three ingredients in mind as I write the games (particularly Furry Crime Game), and see what happens. Maybe it'll end up hitting the notes I want it to - crafting a game that makes the players constantly rotate their cool little guys in their mind - maybe it'll end up being something else. I dunno, real Ms. Frizzle hours: Get messy, make mistakes.

Also, as I'm writing this out now, I think a potential fourth ingredient to try mixing into the stew is Player Investment. Time, creativity, emotional. It all feeds into the character and different games expect different levels of investment. Something to probably keep in mind while you hone your game.

I don't know how else to end this, except to say that I'm excited to experiment in this space. Maybe you are too?

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #ttrpg design #could probably spend more time on this #but done is better than perpetually a draft

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homeofthelonelywriter · 2 months

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I got you | Pt. 3

(A/N) Had a long break from Tumblr, sorry about that but Uni kicked my ass. Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: lots of angst, death of a loved one, PTSD, civil war, flashbacks, injuries, description of death

Synopsis: You are back in Libya and realize that someone you thought you'd never see again is your enemy.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“We’ll be landing in five minutes, get ready.”

The voice is covered in static as it reaches your ears through the headset all of you are wearing. Your eyes quickly find Ghost’s, pure anxiety clear on your face. He nods reassuringly and you take a deep breath as the helicopter slowly starts to descent.

You close your eyes and try to focus on the people around you. Your team. Your best friends. Your family. They are all here with you, you are safe. With another exhale, you open your eyes and notice that Ghost is still looking at you. He opens his mouth to say something but is stopped as the voice of the pilot rings out in your headset again.

“Landing in thirty seconds. Hold on, guys.”

Everyone in the cabin instinctually grabs onto something as the helicopter starts to shake before it comes to a stop on the ground. Sand and dust are whirled around while the blades keep spinning above your heads as you jump out and follow your captain toward the base. Another soldier is already waiting and shakes Price’s hand before walking alongside him. You can’t make out what they’re talking about, but you see their lips moving. Probably just more details and updates about the mission.

You suddenly feel a strong wind against your back and turn around just to watch the helicopter lift back up and leave. Now there is no going back.

A lump forms in your throat as you watch your last source of escape leave. Suddenly your feet feel heavy and you can’t move. You can only stand there and watch. Stand and watch.

“C’mon love.”

Ghost places a warm hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you towards the tents, where the rest of your team is already waiting. You nod and turn to look at him.

“Thanks for waiting for me.”

You can’t see his face, but you get the sense he’s smiling at you.

“Always.”

Together, the two of you walk to the table, where the rest of your team is already being briefed. You tune it out to the best of your abilities, Ghost would fill you in on it in the car, but when a certain name falls, your head shoots up, eyes wide.

“What?”

Everyone stares at you. Well, not everyone. Ghost is actually looking at the soldier who had greeted Price earlier, the soldier who had been talking until you interrupted him. Wait, no. Ghost isn’t looking at him. He is glaring at him. Yet no one is answering you.

“That name…say it again.”

Now everyone in your team is glaring at the soldier. He quickly looks at Price, who just nods with a sigh. And then he says that name again. The same name that you had called out with a giggle whenever that man would come to visit, always with an ‘uncle’ before the actual name. The same name that your father had cursed after an argument. The same name that your mother had pleaded with to spare your family. The same name you never wanted to hear again.

You stumble back from the table as all these memories come rushing back to you. Ghost immediately reaches out and pulls you to his chest. Price says something and after a moment, only Ghost and you are left there. One of his arms is tightly wrapped around your waist, keeping you close and upright, while the other slowly strokes your head.

Images keep coming and you don’t know how to stop them. Your happy childhood. Evenings spent together as one big family. Your fourth birthday when your uncle got you the dollhouse you’ve been wanting for weeks now. The first argument between your father and his brother and how it slowly escalated from there. The evening when everything changed and your uncle led a small group of armed men to your house. The moment he shot your father and brother.

You keep spiraling until you hear your name and your head snaps up. There is Ghost, his brown eyes looking at you, filled with concern.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, lowering your gaze again, focusing on a loose thread on Ghost’s uniform. Without thinking, you reach up and start playing with it. A deep chuckle rings through Ghost’s chest as he watches you.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your fingers stop in their movement and you hesitate before you look up at Ghost.

“He was…is my uncle.”

Ghost nods. He already knows that.

“He killed my father and brother. Maybe even my mother and sister.”

He nods again. More information he is already aware of.

“I’m going to kill him.”

That gets his attention. But where you thought you’d find shock or maybe even disgust, you only find adoration and respect.

“We’ll make sure you do, don’t worry.”

You look at him confused and he quickly explains that the briefing contained an update. Your uncle, who was supposed to arrive within the next few days would arrive about 20 minutes before you would.

“Your chance for revenge.”

A smile starts to play on your lips as you gaze up at Ghost, the crinkling around his eyes, betraying his own, small smile.

“Let’s go find the others.”

You nod as Ghost lets you go, before taking your hand and leading you towards the big tent.

By the time the two of you reach the tent, the team has finished the briefing and all of you started to prepare to leave. Everyone starts going through their gear, making sure that everything is in order and they have enough ammunition for the mission. By the time you were done, it was time to go.

You all file into the truck, yourself squeezed in between Ghost and Gaz. Thankfully the journey wouldn’t take too long and before you knew it, it was time to walk.

You leave the truck hidden behind a large rock and begin the track to the base. While walking, you grow more anxious. Anxious about seeing the man who is responsible for all of your trauma. But also anxious to finally see him dead.

Suddenly, Price raises his hand, making all of you stop in your tracks. You reached the outskirts of the base. With well-practiced hand signs, he tells Ghost and you to head west and start clearing from that direction. Soap, Gaz, and Price would do the same on the other side.

With practiced stealth, Ghost and you manage to infiltrate the base, killing anyone who’s in your way. Once inside, Ghost lets the other three know before you continue toward the office where the document should be located.

The base itself is surprisingly deserted, not a guard in sight as you slowly stalk through the hallways. The sinking feeling in your stomach starts to grow as you stop Ghost.

“Something’s not right.”

He nods, agreeing with you. But still, you have your mission and you have to complete it.

You continue on your way until you catch the sound of voices coming from an office in front of you. You signal to Ghost and he nods in acknowledgment, quickly moving to one side of the door. You press against the wall on the other side and carefully peek inside. And there he is.

He is fatter than he was all those years ago, and he definitely lost a lot of hair, but you would recognize his face everywhere. Ghost catches your attention with a gesture, implying that he will start the countdown for a breach. You nod, watching his fingers with your gun in your hand. As soon as the last finger lowered, you pushed open the door and stormed inside, yelling for everyone to get to the ground.

And then…a shot rings out.

@pagesfalling

Next Part

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#ghost #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #cod #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #fanfiction

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 1 month

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The ask about reader asking their yandere if he’d love them if they were a worm is hilarious. Especially Acheron, since he literally gives the correct answer!

So that made me start thinking about his and reader’s story again…It’d be interesting to see a continuation of the story with reader changing over time

Initially tries to run away from Acheron, and takes advantage of the new “body hopping” skill since she’s now a parasite. Eventually she starts to embrace her new ability of body hopping, and likes to “play pretend” with Acheron taking over peoples’ lives. (It’s basically playing dress-up to her, by choosing a “new character,” new lifestyle, etc.)

It’d definitely be fun to see Acheron’s reactions to reader. After all, they’re in love, together forever!

And one more thought I had given the potential children issue/solution between Acheron and reader…Acheron easily extracts, freezes, and preserves reader’s original eggs. Overtime, Acheron finds a distant relative whose looks and intelligence are strikingly similar to his original body. A near exact copy. You know the drill…Acheron inhabits the distant relative’s body, and is then able to IVF reader’s eggs with his new body’s sperm. Reader goes through pregnancy, and now the children are successfully genetically reader’s and Acheron’s. Not children belonging genetically to the original owners of the random bodies they inhabit. Perhaps I’m overthinking this, but I think this’d ensure to Acheron and reader that their children will inherit their traits, and be more receptive to the whole parasite transformation thing once the children reach adulthood

It’s also so cute to think of Acheron nursing back reader in her parasite form if any accidents occur. Instead of just putting her in a jar, he has a little luxurious dollhouse for her to relax in. I don’t know how I can spin this body horror story into a fluffy cute thing. Something must be wrong with my brain. And sorry for this long post!

Thanks!!! 💝

Oh he will definitely have fun chasing you around. Hopping bodies one after another, always finding you as some sort of weird hivemind connection to him, the prime parasite. But, if you were willing and is actually just enjoying body hopping, he would also take part in the role plays both of you will get on to.

But of course, it was short lived. Both of you can't let the cops in on your case now. That would be a tragedy.

About the pregnancy. He will be opposed to the notion of hunting down a family member. Sure, it's YOUR eggs, but it's not his sperm. It's still another guy's sperm fertilizing yours and all hell will break loose if that will happen. Weirdly enough, he will be okay fathering a kid not born out of your original egg and sperm, but not your original, and his descendant's spunk. Definitely not.

A solution for this, is probably, in his first, original life, he stashed some of his dna, and that included his sperm. When he burnt his house down, he grabbed his original DNA samples also and ran off. Maybe for some experiment in the future? It would be a coincidence though that he met you, want to have a kid with you, remembering he still have his sperm, reinvigorated it to life, and birthed your child.

And the doll house is cute. He will find it childish for sure, but if you like it that way, who is he to judge?

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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voraciousvore · 23 days

Text

Giganterra (Chapter 15)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (14) | Next (16)

Content Warning: soft, safe, unwilling vore; sexual themes; vulgar language

Word Count: 2.5k

------ Chapter 15: Ambivalence ------

Gio opened his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. He shifted in bed, only to be graced with pain rocketing up his arm. He groaned as the memories came flooding back: the betrayal of his master, being used like a sex toy by an evil giantess, his arm breaking. He felt like crying as he laid listlessly in bed, staring up at the ceiling—a facsimile ceiling, the artificial imitation of a dollhouse. A fake house, a fake life, made for a dehumanized doll, not a man.

A loud thump on the wall startled him, jerking him out of his thoughts. He looked over only to find two enormous hazel irises staring back with glee. They roved over him, intruding on his privacy, until the excitement drained out as the giantess observed his splint.

“Oh no, you really did break your arm, didn’t you?” she said. Her voice was loud and full as it vibrated off the walls of the dollhouse. Gio cringed. Her eyebrows knitted together, and the huge eyes rotated down. “S-sorry... I gave it some thought last night. I should probably fix you.”

She straightened into a standing position, so Gio was no longer at eye level and found himself looking at her torso instead, as big as the side of a barn. His heart exploded with panic as the roof opened above, and the beautiful giantess loomed over him in all her terrifying glory.

“Get away from me!” he screeched as her gigantic hand approached him, eclipsing the rest of the room. To his surprise, the hand stopped, the fingers curving around him but not yet touching him. The huge appendage retreated to rest on the top of the wall, the fingers draping down halfway to the floor.

“I’m just trying to help,” the princess explained, tapping the wall with her fingertips in a thunderous gallop. Her tone sounded genuinely apologetic, laced with regret. As frightened as Gio was, her demeanor filled him with a white-hot fury. The stress of the situation, along with his pent-up frustration and misery, drowned out his usual caution.

“Help!? Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted. “Like hell you’re going to help! You USED me and BROKE my arm!”

Bianca bit her lip. “I-I didn’t mean to...”

His own outburst shocked him, but he was so angry he couldn’t stop. “And where do you get off, acting all sorry and like you care now? You certainly didn’t give a shit last night! You didn’t hesitate to snatch us all up and molest us! So don’t pretend like you have any sympathy or respect, you cunt!”

He heaved with wrath, virtually foaming at the mouth. He glanced over at Graham and Cesar, huddled in an interior doorway and gaping at him in shock. Graham was dreadfully pale, and even Cesar looked nervous. As much as Cesar was attracted to Bianca, his service to the human king had trained him on how to speak to royalty, so he knew Gio’s insolence was punishable by death even without the size discrepancy. Gio turned his attention skyward to the giantess princess, who seemed just as stunned. His momentary burst of indignance vaporized in a flash as he realized what he’d done. He’d offended the princess, no doubt. She’d retaliate, probably squash him into a pulp in her hand. He crumbled with terror, his usual timid nature returning to his body, as the princess recovered from the effect of his words.

“Nobody’s ever spoken to me like that before,” she uttered in disbelief. “Least of all a lowly little human.” She stared at him, scrutinizing him with intensity. Gio’s lips quivered as he waited for the inevitable, the moment drawing out like a knife. However, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Bianca, my girl! Daddy’s here!” King Richard proclaimed, sauntering into the room. “How’s your morning going? Did you sleep well?”

Bianca’s plump lips curled into a smirk as she looked down her nose at her living playthings. “I slept fabulously,” she answered, flipping her long hair haughtily over her shoulder. “Thank you so much for my new toys, Daddy!”

The king peered into the human habitat with a devious sneer. “Oh, look at that! He’s got a little splint! That’s hilarious!” He chuckled as Graham glared up at him. Gio had lost all his fire; he trembled, lowering his head. He knew he was in serious peril when the princess laughed along with her father, her expression hardening with a cruel edge. When the giant king glanced over at Graham, the small man swiftly averted his gaze to his toes. Cesar stayed quiet as he watched the whole scene play out in front of him, as if he weren’t a part of it.

“By the way, I brought you a present,” Hardon announced, presenting the human carrier necklace to Bianca. Her gift, crafted especially for her by an expert metallurgist, was designed to be more feminine, consisting of a fine gold chain encrusted with small, sparkling jewels. He fished Candy out of his shirt to demonstrate its utility. Bianca’s eyes gleamed as she greedily snatched up the gift.

“Wow, this is so cool! Thanks, Daddy!” She gave him a big hug, making Candy gasp for breath as she was smothered by giant breasts. The king smiled, giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek before leaving. Bianca’s maid hid from the lecherous king on his way out, not wanting to be groped or smacked on the butt in passing—or worse. As soon as he was gone, she came into the room holding a tray of hot breakfast, similar to the one prepared for Ronny, with Chester in tow to check for poison.

Once the food was deemed safe, Princess Bianca settled down to eat her breakfast. First, though, she needed to remind Gio of his place. She couldn’t allow anyone to disrespect her like that, least of all an insignificant rat. She reached back into the little house and roughly seized him in her fist. This time, he didn’t yell at her, merely crying out in fear instead. She ripped off his splint, eliciting a sharp shriek of pain.

“D-don’t hurt me!” he begged. “I-I take back what I said, I’m sorry, I was just scared and venting my feelings, I meant no disrespect Your Highness-” He continued to blubber as she wrapped his tiny body in a crêpe, smothering him in whipped cream and powdered sugar. His eyes widened and he struggled violently when he realized what was going on.

“No! You can’t eat me! I don’t want to die!” He was sobbing now, with his arms pinned to his sides while he floundered in custard filling. Bianca regarded him coldly as a savage grin spread across her lips, exposing her teeth. She couldn’t deny the thrill she felt, having such control and power over the small man. She didn’t bother to inform him that the potion she used on him yesterday would last for days, so he wouldn’t perish in her stomach. She preferred to savor his fear. She watched him wriggle his shoulders desperately and stir the filling with his wimpy movements. His delicate features, stricken with abject fear, were dusted with white powder, and his cheeks and hair were splotched with cream. He looked delicious, and her stomach clamored for his dainty flesh to fill it.

He deserved his fate, after all, for running his mouth to royalty when he was a mere commoner, and such a pathetic little creature on top of that. She pushed down the inconvenient itch of sympathy and guilt scratching at her skull. She shouldn’t allow herself to feel those irrational emotions for a human, her natural inferior. If her father knew she felt that way, he would disapprove. She couldn’t disappoint him.

Gio felt how small and powerless he was as the strength of her huge hand squeezed him in the crêpe, squirting out the filling around him. Her enormous maw, like the interior of a cathedral, gaped open, ready to engulf him. Gio screamed as the massive open jaws approached, the tunnel of the gullet twitching with hunger. The walls of teeth closed around him, biting down on the soft dough and burying him in humid darkness. The floor beneath him, the squishy wet mass of the tongue, came to life and curled around him. The huge tongue stripped the blanket of crêpe from his body, licked off the whipped cream and filling, and slapped his face and skin. He pushed against the tongue with his palms, but the heavy slab was too strong for him to wrestle off. The giantess hummed with delight, her voice reverberating from her throat into the hollow chamber, as his flavor permeated her mouth. She shifted him from one side of her mouth to the other, with Gio wailing in pain the entire time as his broken arm was jostled and compressed.

Gio had no time to mentally prepare himself as he abruptly slid headfirst into the wide gullet. His vision was scarred with the sight of the fleshy chute of the throat, descending into a forbidding blackness, before the muscles crushed around him and dragged him down. His arm throbbed with acute pain as it was smashed against his midsection. He blacked out as he was shuttled down, until he collapsed into the giantess’s stomach. When he regained his wits, he was horrified to find himself churning in acid, stirred by wrinkled walls of flexing meat. Loud grumbles echoed through the hollow cavity like an earthquake, and mashed-up food slopped down from the constricted opening above as the princess ate the rest of her breakfast. He held out his shaking hands to examine the soft glow radiating from his skin. The acid didn’t burn, but he was still hysterical with panic, not yet comprehending that he wouldn’t be digested.

Although giants were large enough for Graham to make out their facial features at a reasonable distance, he still couldn’t see much without his glasses. Nevertheless, he could hear Gio’s pleas and screams clear as day as he was eaten alive. He glanced over at Cesar standing next to him, who was watching the display attentively. He could hardly ignore Cesar’s raging boner, naked as they all were. He turned away with the upmost revulsion.

“You disgust me,” he spat at the other man.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” Cesar admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Goddamn, she’s so hot. I want her to eat me too...”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you care about Gio? Or have any self-respect or sense of self-preservation at all? Or shame, for that matter?”

Cesar grinned sheepishly. “Nope.” He sighed. “Don’t misunderstand, I feel bad for Gio, I really do. But I don’t think she intends to kill him. Besides, he shouldn’t have spoken to her that way. She’s royalty. He should’ve known better.” He shrugged.

Graham, at a loss for words, huffed and shook his head. He walked away from the glass and sat down on one of the beds, holding his face in his hands and muttering vulgar invectives under his breath. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation, and stuck with a sex-crazed idiot, no less. He flinched as the threatening shadow of the giantess enveloped the miniature house. He looked up with trepidation to behold Bianca smiling and rubbing her full belly as she gazed down rapaciously at the two remaining men like she wanted to devour them alive.

“Now, which one of you should I take with me today?” she teased, fingering her new jewelry, the human carrier that adorned her neck.

Cesar gazed up at her with awe, saluting her proudly with his exposed member. “Ooh, me! Pick me!” he called out, raising his hands, imagining the embrace of her warm skin on his with dreamy bliss.

Bianca grazed him over with her eyes, considering her options. A mischievous smirk spread over her face. “Nah.” She reached in and plucked up Graham instead, who squealed in protest. She snapped him into her necklace and dropped it to her chest. The tiny man’s cries were muffled when he fell neatly into her cleavage and was swallowed up by her full breasts, which bobbed slightly with his frantic motions. He tried to climb out of the soft valley, straining his arms, but Bianca stuffed him back in.

“Aw, c’mon...” Cesar moaned as Bianca shut the roof and abandoned him. She was shunning him on purpose to torment him; he just knew it. He watched her leave with longing, dick in hand as her shapely backside swayed temptingly. He sighed as he was left alone, insanely jealous of the other men. He felt empty and unwanted. Did she not like him for some reason? Was he not good enough for her?

Bianca didn’t give Cesar a second thought while she strolled through the castle. As she felt Gio thrashing weakly in her gut, and Graham fighting against her bouncing jugs, a twinge of regret began to worm its way into her heart. She knew it wasn’t right for her to feel empathy for humans, yet she couldn’t get the image of Gio, sallow and shriveled with his broken arm, out of her head. She normally didn’t experience compassion for her inferiors, but something about his tiny size, with how scared and helpless he was, struck a chord with her.

She really didn’t intend to injure him. His emotional blowup had rocked her to her core. To think that such a vulnerable creature, wounded and frail, would have the audacity to confront and berate her filled her with amazement, perhaps even admiration. It wouldn’t be easy to stand up to a giantess hundreds of times his size, after all. Even full-sized giant men were afraid to speak to her in that manner, with the power she wielded.

She realized the extreme duress he was under prompted his heated, impulsive response, and the fact that he could feel so strongly disturbed her. She was accustomed to seeing fear in humans, especially when they were on her dinner plate, but anger? Sadness? Even joy, with that bizarre horny one who actually seemed happy to see her? It was strange and alien to her. To think they had a range of complex feelings, like real people and not just primitive animals, bothered her. Her interactions with humans had been limited up to this point, restricted mostly to eating them, and she was learning a lot more than she expected about them.

She decided to get a healing salve for Gio’s arm. Why not? She was his owner, his caretaker. She ought to keep her toys in pristine condition. For peak performance—certainly not out of compassion or guilt. Normally, she’d send a servant to do her bidding, but she felt oddly embarrassed about the whole thing. She didn’t want anyone else to know about her conflicting thoughts and feelings. She didn’t want to admit that she would spare this human, this inferior creature, after he disrespected her so rudely. She didn’t want to acknowledge or confront her own ambivalence regarding these human men, who seemed to have depth and dimensions that she hadn’t anticipated.

Chapter 16

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ace-of-zaun · 11 months

Text

Intertwined (1/3):

young!silco x f!reader - 2.3k words - SFW

cw: fluff, best friends to lovers, soft silco, dancing with silco (my beloved), falling in love, brief mentions of oppression and poverty

summary: After a mission Topside, you and Silco accidentally stumble upon a grand ballroom where you quickly become enamoured with the elegant dancers. So, naturally, you force your life-long best friend to waltz with you and beneath his over-the-top grumbles, you find a boy who seems to adore you just as much as you adore him…

a/n: el writing yet another silco!dancing-with-reader fic in a desperate attempt to fill the void that is her lonely heart?? I don't know her

i / ii / iii

As you lie flat out on a Topside roof clutching your backpack to your chest, Silco one foot to your left lying in the exact same position, you desperately try to quieten your heaving breaths.

The break-in had gone perfectly.

Partly because of Silco's mastery at picking locks and keeping a sharp lookout, and partly due to your own innate ability to sneak through properties and palm valuable items as if you were a shadow. And after exiting the building with the goods, as per your usual protocol, you'd both legged it across the city, jumping from roof to roof until you were nowhere near the original site.

Now, as the blood rushing through your ears slowly begins to ebb away, your heart rate returning to a more reasonable pace, you can finally make out the sounds of the City of Progress.

The rolling chirps of the curious evening birds. The pleasant chatter of a couple as they cross the street below you, arm in arm.

The lilt of a floral waltz carried along the warm breeze of the summer air.

You pause, propping yourself up on your elbows as you strain to get a better listen of the unfamiliar music.

Peering over your shoulder reveals a spattering of lights that are enough to will your adrenaline-ached body to push up into a crouch. Beside you, Silco whispers a confused, “what are you doing?” but you tune him out, focusing instead on locating the source of the enchanting music.

You carefully start to make your way to the edge of the roof, staying low down until you can peer over the lip.

And you spot it almost instantly. The glass-topped building, right in the middle of a perfectly maintained garden, lined with green hedges, marble fountains, and cosy loveseats.

The garden alone is bigger than the entire site of The Last Drop.

A quiet hiss of your name comes from behind you and it’s a battle not to roll your eyes at him. As if any Topsiders would think to look up.

Not wanting to tear your eyes from the sight for even just a second, you blindly chuck your backpack towards him and pay no attention to the gruff little “Oof,” that follows it.

In mere seconds, you’re standing up at the edge of the roof, peering across at the twinkling lights that illuminate the most beautiful spectacle you’ve ever seen. Inside the building, people are gathered in small groups around the edge of the main room, sipping their drinks as they chatter and laugh with bright, carefree smiles.

It’s as if you’re viewing a dollhouse from afar, watching a scene unfold that you’d only read about in books or heard in passing from those lucky enough to have witnessed it themselves.

You can’t help yourself. Your jaw becomes slack at the sight of it all.

The opulence. The unthinkable ease of life.

A warm presence appears at your side and you barely even have to turn your head to recognise how disgusted he is by it all. A frivolity and flaunting of wealth that the two of you will probably never be privileged enough to truly experience.

You can tell by the beginnings of a sneer on his scarred lips that he’s about to delve into a long, impassioned rant, so you decide to distract him before he can even begin.

"How do you think they do that?"

Silco pauses, a surprised look briefly crossing his face. He then pivots his head to look at you as a puzzled frown begins to etch over his features.

"Do what?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

You nod towards the dancing couples in the centre of the ballroom, all paired up like perfectly matched dolls on the immaculately polished floor. Watching their synchronised movements is almost hypnotic, you quickly decide. Definitely capable of pulling you into a trance if you were to stare for too long.

"All those complicated steps,” you reply. “How do they know which order to do them in?"

"I don't know, they probably have hours of pointless lessons while we're breaking our backs just trying to survive," Silco scoffs, no doubt pairing it with his signature eye roll.

You ignore his comment and try to focus a little bit more closely on the movement of the dancers.

It’s difficult to tell with long dresses masking their feet, but you manage to pick up that they’re travelling in three distinct steps in time to the music. And they somehow manage to turn with each other, joined together by a delicate, yet precise hold with their arms.

But no matter how hard you squint and tilt your head, you can’t quite figure out how the couples are moving together in perfect tandem, so after a quick glance to your side, you grab onto the top of Silco’s arms, spinning him round to face you.

The look of pure bewilderment on his face is incredibly entertaining as you tug him towards you and attempt to place one of his hands on the small of your back.

"What the fuck are-”

"Oh hush," you scold him playfully. "I just want to see how they do this without tripping each other up."

He opens his mouth (probably to interrogate you further or perhaps to groan at you and call you ridiculous), but promptly snaps it shut again when both of your hands land firmly on his waist.

You’re just about to place one hand on his bicep, almost certain that you have the arm positions right at this point, when he snatches both of your hands in his and holds you still.

Now it’s your turn to open your mouth, ready to demonstrate your indignation at his stubborn nature, when Silco pointedly turns his head and looks down at the ballroom dancers. And then your words get completely caught in your throat as he gently places your left hand on his shoulder, moulding your body to his like an astute sculptor.

The simple action sends your heart into a curious little flutter that you’re really not sure how to feel about.

After readjusting both of your stances so that one of his hands is snaked around your back, Silco carefully takes your right hand in his left and holds it up so that both of your arms are held up and out to the side.

“There,” he looks at you with a nod, appearing irritatingly pleased with himself.

“Yeah, well, that was the easy bit,” you grumble at him. “Now we have to figure out what to do with our legs.”

And thus begins the process of trying to copy the flawless movements of the clearly well-practised dancers, all the while clinging to one another to make sure you don’t accidentally send each other careening off the roof with your clumsy steps.

Part of you is incredibly relieved that you’re too high up for anyone to hear your shared and rather emphatic exclamations of no, you’re meant to step backwards when I step forwards and owww, you're not supposed to stand on my toes, you cretin!

Funnily enough, it reminds you of when you were first taught to fight as a kid, by none other than the boy currently trying to teach you how to dance. Except this time, you’re not the only one who is a complete beginner.

But thankfully after a little while of repeating the same steps, you both begin to get into the rhythm of the choreography, relying on each other to move together as one.

Back, side, close. Forward, side, close.

In fact, after a few repetitions, you realise that you’re barely even looking down to copy the real dancers anymore.

"Hey! I think we're actually doing it!" you exclaim, grinning up at Silco with a beaming smile.

He smiles back immediately, except his is more of an amused little smirk.

Then, his gravelly voice rumbles across the short distance between your chests, drawing your attention to just how close the two of you are. It sends a flush up your neck that you hope he can’t see.

"Somehow I don't think our ability to copy their frilly dances will suddenly convince them that we're no longer gutter rats."

"Speak for yourself, rat boy, I'm more than ready to move into my mansion," you sniff haughtily, raising your nose in the air like a Piltie aristocrat.

He rolls his eyes and tugs you a little bit closer to him.

"I bet you are.”

It feels like barely any time has passed at all when the music draws to a gentle close, meaning the unfortunate end to your little impromptu dance. Granted, you hadn’t completely mastered the flow of the routine, and neither of you could turn with the steps, or include any fancy spins or dips.

But within the space of one song, you’d learned how to waltz together.

When the final notes of the melody fade out and are replaced by a spattering of polite applause, you glance back over at the dancers in the glass-topped building, wondering what would be the proper way to end such a refined dance.

Expecting to witness a series of curtseys and bows, you’re utterly startled to see that most of the couples end the dance with a simple, chaste kiss. And despite the fact that it’s nothing more than a quick peck on the lips, your heart suddenly feels like it’s jumped up in your chest.

Your eyes snap back to Silco who is watching the dancers below with an expression that is probably very similar to your own. By now, you’ve both stopped moving, but you’re still holding onto each other, neither of you seemingly wanting to let go just yet.

Slowly, his head turns back to you and immediately upon meeting your gaze, an adorable flush of pink dusts his cheeks.

"Uh…should we…" he stumbles over his words, seafoam eyes darting from your lips, to your eyes, to his feet. "I mean-"

You’ve never known Silco to trip over his words and it causes your heart to race. Suddenly your whole body feels too hot and you’re extremely aware of where his hands are keeping a hold of you.

Honestly, you can’t remember a time not liking Silco, and sure, you’ve definitely thought about kissing him before. But right now, as he looks at you all wide-eyed and nervous, you feel like it actually could happen, and you’re not sure what it would mean to either one of you if you did.

Would it mean as much to him as it would to you?

It almost feels surreal how one little moment is forcing you to finally confront all your built-up feelings for him.

You and Silco have been best friends since you were children and you’d always just assumed that being with him would never happen… But could it?

It all feels too much at once, everything building up in your chest until you start to feel a bit dizzy, so you make a snap decision before you do something that might accidentally ruin your best friendship.

"We should get back home before Vander thinks we've fucked up the job and sends out a search party," you tell him decisively, despite the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him breathless.

Silco quickly nods his head a few times, but you don’t miss the way his seafoam eyes flicker down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze once more. By now, his pupils are so dilated, you can barely see that enchanting green that you’ve come to love so much.

"Good shout," he says, nodding again, but this time much more stoically and with his lips pulled into a thin line, as if he’s holding back from saying more.

He begins to step back from you (almost reluctantly if you were to really think about it), but before he can pull away completely, you keep a hold of his hand and force him to stop still.

Silco’s eyes widen even further as he looks at you questioningly but instead of explaining yourself, you look him dead in the eyes and perform an entirely exaggerated and horrendously shaky curtsey.

"I thank you for this dance, good sir. It was indeed a most enjoyable experience," you tell him in the poshest, most ridiculous accent you can muster.

"Oh, piss off," Silco responds, playfully shoving you away and finally letting go of your hand.

You immediately miss the warmth of it.

A carefree laugh bubbles from you as Silco strides across the roof to fetch both of your backpacks, but you manage to catch the smirk that he tries to hide as he bends down.

He throws your backpack at you a little too forcefully and it causes you to squeal in surprise.

“Oi!” you call out, fully intending to chastise him and accuse the boy of trying to make you fall off the roof, when you notice the pink lining his cheeks has deepened to a red.

It’s enough to make you hold your tongue, allowing him to pass by you and begin to climb back down the side of the building.

And as you follow him, you can’t stop thinking about what it could mean. Did you say something that embarrassed him? Was he just hot from the physical movement of the dance?

Or is it something more?

You descend the building within minutes, your mind working overtime all the way down, desperately hoping you haven’t made things weird between the two of you. But just as you’re about to make the final hop down to the ground, Silco turns and offers his hand to you, an incredibly soft look swimming in his eyes.

You stare at his hand for a few seconds before accepting, feeling your own cheeks flush as you’re suddenly unable to hide the grin that takes over your lips.

With Silco holding you steady, you jump down and make sure your bag is securely strapped to your back before winding through the streets of Piltover, heading for the bridge that will take you back to Zaun.

And to your quiet delight, Silco holds your hand for the entire journey home.

part 2

A/N: Hello, my fellow silco lovers, long time no see, I hope you are all doing okay!

Instead of giving you a list of all the rubbish reasons why I haven’t been writing recently, please take my apologies for such rusty writing, and a humble offering of telling you that this little fic will have 3 parts to it and will be incredibly soft because we all deserve some soft silco. (Part 2 is my personal fave!)

I’ll also mention that Pas de Deux and The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time are not abandoned, neither is Yes or No?, or any other multi-chapter I’ve started, but I should probably make a proper post about all of that… (why is posting so scary??)

Anyhow, love ya’s, hope you’re all safe and well, please consider telling me your favourite joke in the comments or my inbox <3 -el x

#silco x reader #silco #silco x you #silco x f!reader #silco fic

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nicascurls · 18 hours

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Breaking the Dollhouse/Final Family AU

Something I’ve kinda thought about for a while but decided to now speak out on it is Andy possibly trying to end himself during his year trapped with Chucky.

Like he started to attempt at some point but was stopped by Chucky and Mixter, leaving him with only a scar on his neck since they stopped the bleeding and stitched him back up.

Andy doesn’t tell anyone though and even when Nica first notices the scar after he first shaved his beard, he lies and tells her that it was just one of the scars Chucky gave him.

But the way he refuses to look at Nica when he tells her makes her realize that that wasn’t true, and it breaks her heart.

It's so sad, but you're so right! 😭

He would probably have also tried to irritate his wound to make them bleed more in hopes that he would bleed out.

Nica doesn't let on that she figured out the actual reason for the scar but immediately comforts him and asks him if it still hurts at all.

#chucky #chucky 2021 #child's play #chucky syfy #andy barclay #nica pierce #BarclayPierce #breaking the dollhouse #final family #eloise's random chucky thoughts

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fairchilds-glasses · 28 days

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Breaking the Dollhouse/Final Family AU

Real footage of Rachel and Andy. XD

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe92NHsd/

Oh absolutely, Nica or Kyle have to be there to supervise them at all times because they’ll probably end up trying to kill each other XD

#chucky #miss fairchild #rachel fairchild #andy barclay #nica pierce #kyle simpson #breaking the dollhouse au #final family

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thedreemer-artrequestsopen · 13 days

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about to binge read all the Breaking The Dollhouse au posts and probably make fanart wish me luck soldiers

#chucky #nica pierce #breaking the dollhouse #final family au

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months

Text

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part five - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: Bullying

Michael has a lot of stuff. A lot of heavy stuff. Despite him assuring her that he can move it all in on his own, she still wants to help.

It would be kind of a dick move if she didn’t assist with all of this. An hour in, and the apartment is already transformed from bland and empty into a hoard of pastel rainbow decor and soft white staple pieces.

She takes a break to admire the painting of a fluffy white angel cat over watercolor Van Gogh scenery. Michael comes through the door, panting, with his white, vintage microwave in tow.

“Who painted this?” She asks him.

He smiles, blushes, puts the microwave down and then his hand on his hips. “I did.”

Her eyes grow wide. “This is amazing.”

He chuckles. “Thank you.”

She likes Michael a lot already, but she’s also very jealous of him and his many talents and cool possessions. He makes her want to decorate and be creative, both skills she’s never been able to possess correctly.

She hasn’t gotten the key made yet, so she goes out and does that while he starts unpacking his things. By the time she’s done, her apartment looks astonishing. Fairy lights twinkle over gauze white curtains and a big speaker plays soft hiphop music in one corner of the living room. Her couch is full of comfy white and grey fluffy throw pillows. An incense burner releases gourmand, smoky aroma into the air.

Michael is stretched out on the couch, taking a break, watching Legally Blonde on DVD. Her small TV is now in her room and his bigger flatscreen dwarfs the stand that it was on.

She sits down beside him with two glasses of water. Before she can set hers down on the coffee table, he stops her. “Wait! Coasters!”

He digs through two boxes of stuff before he finds white marble coasters for them to set their drinks on.

She laughs at him and he grins back. “I know, I know,” he tells her, “typical trust fund kid BS.”

“You’re fine,” she tells him. “I was laughing at the coasters because the table is already a mess.”

“Listen,” he says, “this table just needs some tee ell cee . A sander and some paint would do her wonders.” He pats the wooden top.

“Can I help?” She asks, excited to take on a project with a new friend.

“Of course you can,” he assures.

She remembers him telling her that his mother is an artist. “Did your mom teach you to paint?”

He nods. “She also taught me how to make miniatures. You know, like dollhouses but for adults?”

“That’s amazing. Do you trade art with her?”

“I do,” he says, “we send things back and forth in the mail. Although my dad says it ‘ clogs up their post office box ’.”

“He’s not a fan of art?”

Michael snorts. “He hates everything except golf. Sometimes I think he hates me.”

She shakes her head. “Does he really hate you? You’re the perfect son.”

Michael sighs. “No, but he hates gay people, so it’s close enough. When I first came out to him, if my mother wouldn’t have been there, he would’ve probably shot me. He’s a real man’s man if you know what I mean..”

She nods, smiling ruefully. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.”

Michael thinks for a moment. “We should get a dog.”

“I would love that, but it’s no pets here.” She frowns.

He raises his eyebrows and sips at his water. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

They decide it has to be a quiet dog, one from the local shelter who’s comfortable being alone at night. They look online for local pounds to read up on some potential candidates.

“Rocky. Pitbull mix. Potty trained, good with kids and other pets, sweet and loves everyone.” She shows Michael a picture of a medium sized black, stout dog with shiny grey eyes.

Michael shows her his own selection, a retired service beagle named Winnie. “Short for Winnifred,” he reads, “loves people and other pets, very polite, and hardly ever barks.”

“I love them both,” she groans, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“Same,” Michael sighs. “It’s one in the afternoon. Do you work tonight?”

“Yup.” She presses an arm over her face, blocking out the ceiling light.

“Don’t you have to sleep?” He asks.

She’s not tired at all because she slept through the night, but she agrees because Michael sounds like he needs some alone time. Plus, her DVDs and TV are in her room now, and if she can’t sleep she can watch an old horror movie again.

The problem isn’t getting to sleep, it’s staying there - waking up sweating, gasping, whining John’s name. She slaps her mouth shut, presses her face into her pillow, and prays to any deity listening that her voice wasn’t loud enough for Michael to hear. First day in the new place and his roommate has a wet dream. It would make any sane person want to revoke their rental agreement immediately.

She should be embarrassed and anxious that Michael potentially heard her, but instead she’s grinding against her sheets and thinking of tall men handcuffed to beds.

This won’t work. This isn’t working. She’s so pent up that it’s borderline painful. It’s taking over her mind. She sticks her hand into her sleep pants, past her underwear, and into a sloppy mess, tries to think about anything but John while she rubs her clit, but in doing so her brain latches onto the thought of him and pretty soon he’s the only thing on her mind. It’s like her body thinks John and pleasure are one and the same.

She tries to paint a decent fantasy of what she would like sex with him to be, but really she doesn’t give a shit as long as it’s him. And that’s what scares her. He could be absolutely celibate and she’d still crave him, and this is the worst time for her to realize that because her alarm is going off for work.

She orgasms at the cost of being ten minutes late.

The locker room lights are off when she goes to put her things away, which is unusual. Since she started, they’ve been lit around the clock. In fact, she’s not even sure where the light switch is in here because she’s never had to use it. Fumbling around in the pitch black is making her even tardier. Finally, she finds the switch and flips it. The room illuminates, and standing under the migraine-inducing glow is someone who makes headaches seem like a dream come true.

Benny grins from his seat on the bench, which he quickly abandons in favor of looming over her. Once again, the sweaty, edematous mass of him blocks her exit.

She’s too busy contemplating if anyone would hear her scream to see him hold his open palm out expectantly.

“Give it to me,” he says.

“What?” She asks, imagining in another universe she sounds angry and oppositional instead of whiny and terrified. In another universe, she can also kick his ass. Not in this one, though. In this universe, she does as Benny demands and hands him her phone so she doesn’t have to suffer through the touch of his greasy skin a second time.

He holds her phone in one hand while the other holds his own. She doesn’t bother trying to see what he’s doing because she can’t get her feet to move let alone stand on tiptoes and look over his shoulder.

This goes on for a while in which her only thought consists of asking herself if she could run to the door and make it into the populated infirmary before he can catch her. Again, this is a solution mainly dependent on her stubborn feet.

She’s not really worried about what he sees on her phone. It’s what he’s getting from it that sets her pulse careening.

He reaches out and tries to shove it into her jacket pocket, but luckily that’s when her feet decide to save her and step away from his hands. He scowls at her like she just insulted his mother.

“Fine.” Benny opens his hand and drops her phone on the stone floor. She winces when she hears the shatter, then looks back up at his pleased expression.

“Remember our trip.” He pushes past her, not enough to hurt but to make her yelp and stumble, and slams the door shut on his way out.

Her phone isn’t broken. The screen has a tiny crack in one corner but other than that it’s still perfect. She doesn’t understand why she heard it shatter, but chalks it up to losing her mind from repeated stress and unregulated sleep.

She grabs her bag from her locker and brings it with her to the nurse’s station, labeling the locker room as an unsafe and off limits space, which are becoming more bountiful by the day.

John is not her patient tonight. On her day off they must have had an influx of admissions because she’s responsible for 10 of them and the infirmary is unusually and appropriately staffed.

Her hopes of his nurse trading him are slim to none because he’s a wonderful patient and over time everyone has seemed to agree that they want him on their assignment sheet.

The other nurse’s that take and give her report always talk about what a cool, easy going guy he is and how they’re surprised that he needs that many guards with him.

“What do you think he did?” Stan, one of the day shift nurses, asks her.

“My bet’s on released a circus full of wild animals and let them trample a small town, but I could be wrong.” She taps her pen against her report sheet and laughs at her own joke.

Stan snorts. “He probably killed some rich guys.”

The other nurses like him so much that most of their theories on why John is in four point restraints with four men guarding him at all times is because he’s done something valiant that pissed someone powerful off.

That’s probably the other reason his wound looks better; not just because of her, but because if you like a patient or connect with them you’re more than likely going to give them the best care you can provide.

If she’s honest, it kind of makes her feel sick. Not because everyone has grown to like John, but because that means she’ll have less chance of being his nurse from here on out. Also, she knows it’s five-year-old mentality, but she liked him and treated him well first while the other ones had to get to know him beforehand.

Her case load is heavy. A couple IV’s, wound changes, someone with a tracheostomy. She sits down to chart, finally, at 3 AM.

One of the other nurses, Bill, calls for her across the hall.

She fights the urge to groan while standing on sore feet and walking over to his medication cart.

Bill grins at her, looking like he’s really enjoying himself. “My patient in 9 wants to see you.”

“Me?” She asks.

Bill shrugs, still looking very amused. “He says he needs to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Bill tells her. “Seems that he likes your company, though.” He gives an eyebrow raise at the awkward expression crawling onto her face.

She reminds herself that this her workplace for the 80th time and that Bill’s suggestive expressions are just him messing around. Joking. That’s all. He’s joking.

John is watching the door, waiting for her. When she pops in like a mouse and scurries to his bed, He feels the urge to pet her on the head for showing up, which is strange but not unwarranted. She does act like a cute little pet. That’s not the most respectable way to think of her, but he likes it so it sticks.

His smile is wide and genuine. “How’s the roommate search?”

“Uh, I got one.” She smiles timidly, hoping he doesn’t think she’s erratic and air-headed for finding someone so fast

His eyes widen just the smallest bit. “That’s good, are they nice?”

She nods too eagerly. “He’s great. And he has great decorations.”

The key word here - at least the one his ears attune to - is he. Not because a woman and a man living together automatically entails romance or connection, but because John knows men - John is a man - and most of them turn out to be less than good.

He tries not to look mean, to keep his smile, to focus on her being here with him in the present and alive and well; If he doesn’t, rage will start talking, nefarious, whispering sin in his ear, assuring him that it wouldn’t be hard to break out of these handcuffs and make sure her roommate becomes her loyal dog for the rest of the time he spends living with her.

“If you wouldn’t have suggested it, I’d probably be homeless by next week.” She tries to sway the conversation toward optimism because she sees something in his expression that reads like he’s a little upset. He probably does think she’s a moron at this point.

Maybe it’s just good that she’s happy. He tries to shift focus onto that. The roommate can’t be that bad if she’s so upbeat.

It’s been very easy to talk to John most times, but then there are moments like this when something awkward and unsaid hangs between them and more often than not she doesn’t know what it is. Maybe he doesn’t either.

“Just be careful,” is what he decides to say.

She chuckles. “I will, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t understand what’s funny.

One of the security guards stands, stretches, yawns. He says he’s going to take a break. The other guards are asleep, so once he leaves they’ll be, essentially, alone.

“I’m gonna go to vending, John you want anything?” He asks.

John shakes his head no. “Thanks.”

The security guard nods at both her and John and walks out.

“I’m sorry if I bothered you while you were busy,” he says, apologizing with his eyes, too. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She purses her lips, which he thinks means she’s trying not to leak an expression that will probably be embarrassing. Really, she’s trying to tame her lion heart back into its cage before it sinks its teeth into him and refuses to let go.

“I’m okay, John.” She attempts smiling. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

He shrugs like his stab wound and near death are just a hiccup.

She talks again. “And I’m glad you called me in. I like talking to you.”

His face is all smile now. “Likewise.”

He tells her to pull up a chair if she wants, and she steals one of the metal ones that the breaking guard left behind. She sits by his bedside and they have a conversation about the weather that turns into a discussion on harsh winters in Belarus.

“Did you grow up there?” She asks him.

He nods. “I traveled a lot.”

“So, you’re Russian?” She puts her chin in her palm and stares at him like he is the most interesting person in the world. She’s adorable like this.

“Yes. American, now.”

“Do you speak Russian?” Her eyebrows raise.

“da, ya krasivaya.” His tone automatically slides into a deep baritone when he says this.

He needs to be nerfed. Outlawed. He should not be handsome, nice, like-able, and be able to speak a different language in his perfect voice. It’s really not fair at all.

She’s too busy trying to tame her rogue thoughts to ask him what he even said. The desire to climb into his lap and straddle him crosses her mind twenty times in different ways. She blinks heavy. “You’re the coolest person I know.”

He murmurs a laugh.

They talk until the guard comes back from his break, mainly about Belarus and what it was like there and where else he has traveled. She’s not sure if she’s always had the desire to travel, but if she didn’t before she does now.

Although she has a ton of charting to catch up on, she doesn’t want to leave him. The taste of human connection is on her tongue after a couple years of abstinence and she’s becoming addicted.

When she leaves his room, it’s with inner reluctance and impressive self control.

She tells him to sleep. He promises he’ll try.

It would be easier to do her job if she wasn’t catching Benny sneering at her whenever they’re in the same space, but she gets through it, reasoning that John has it worse than her because he has to suffer through six hours with the asshole guard in his room.

#john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick x plus size reader #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction

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