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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

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Hi!! I love your Clarisse fan fics so much <3! I was wondering if you could right one with very very sweet reader being in a straight toxic/abusive relationship and she just takes it but never tells anyone. Her and Clarisse where enemy’s but secretly loved each other. Than one day reader was walking around with a bruise on her face horribly covered in concealer but if you were looking for something you could still see and Clarisse did, but not at first, she was coming up to you to bully you but than she saw the bruise and she got all upset and reader was confused because Clarisse always bullied her. Reader just brushed it aside and walked away but left her dagger at the table, so when Clarisse returned it she saw your boyfriend through the window smacking you in the face and she lost it. She didn’t even knock on the door she just bursted in and she didn’t want to make you upset so she grabbed you boyfriends arm and dragged him out to the forest and beat the living shit out of him. She ran back to see reader and comforted her and it ended up with both of them confessing their love for each other and maybe some fluff or smut towards the end, you choose! 💕💕

Thank you!!

Not talking bout boys

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Aphrodite! Fem! Reader

An - yes reader has a bf them being a lesbian in the fic is important side note I have a smutty Abby fic and a cute fic for clarisse coming out on Valentine’s Day so look out for those two

CW - abusive relationships, dyke is used, religous trauma

Everyone knew who you were. You were a beautiful charming daughter of Aphrodite as well as the vice councilor for the Aphrodite cabin.

You were a sweet heart, always being the first to show the new kids around camp, ready to help settle disagreements and you were well known for being someone anybody could come to for relationship advice.

Ironic.

People would often tell you how much they wished they had a relationship like yours. Your boyfriend Logan a son of Athena. Brains and beauty that’s what everyone said about you.

Funny thing about people is that they never saw what happened behind closed doors. You tried not to blame him but it was hard not to.

Laying on the floor of the empty Aphrodite cabin your held yourself up with your hands, your tears dropping on the floor after he hit you, why? It could be for anything today however it was because you wore a too revealing top that attracted attention, attention that Logan didn’t like.

“Really?! How many times do I have to tell you to get it through your dumb fucking head huh?” Logan yelled at you, kneeling down he forced your head up. He glared at you for a moment before letting you go, grabbing you softly and hugging you. “I’m sorry baby” he kissed your shoulder.

“I’m sorry baby you know I don’t like hitting you but sometimes it’s the only thing I can do to get messages across” he frowned gently holding your face, his personality doing a complete 360 from before.

“I know” you whispered. Leaning into his touch you couldn’t help it. Something felt off however, his touch made you feel dirty and guilty, the furthest thing from love yet… yet you still forgave him and felt as though you needed him.

——

Days normally blured together, with mornings going normally with you slowly doing your makeup mainly because you wanted to look your best but also because you needed the extra time to cover the bruises — dozing off you hadn’t realized you used to little yellow concealer to hide the purple of the deep mark.

After about an hour you walked out of your cabin, walking towards the dining pavilion for breakfast. Being shoved to the side you watched as Clarisse softly laughed with her siblings clearly mocking you. “It’s impolite to not say excuse me” you softly spoke fixing yourself shirt.

Turning around she looked you up and down. You felt her gaze linger for a moment before turning more serious. “Go get your share I’ll catch up” she ordered at her siblings. Once they started to leave she harshly grabbed your chin turning it so your cheek was In direct sunlight. “The hell is this” she carefully examined the mark

“Nothing” confused you looked over at her slightly offended by the circumstances. “Besides why would you even care”

“Because I can— How the fuck did you get that bruise on your cheek? Someone deck you or something” she sarcastically laughed. Immediately you shook your head denying it. “No no I uh, I fell”

Clarisse looked down at you for a moment, taking her thumb she caressed the sensitive bruise. “Whatever… just be more careful” she let you go before leaving you alone, irritated and.. flustered?

——

You laid in bed looking up at the ceiling not able to think.

Reaching up to your chest you softly took the cross necklace, something your father had given you before you arrived at camp.

Thinking about your dad always brought bad memories, how he forced you into the church. The snobby kids and the religion forced down your throat. Not allowed to ask questions or question anything. But the thing that stuck with you the most was the treatment of gay people.

You personally had no problem with them, the gods themselves seem to be fine with homosexual relationships but… why did it always feel so weird to you. You knew things were different about you but this time you didn’t mean being a demigod.

The way you viewed your boyfriend vrs well.. clarisse of all people made you confused. When you were with Logan you didn’t feel the same butterflys as silena would constantly brag about getting with Charlie. When you kissed it felt forced, how his hands touched you it make you want to rip your skin out.

But..

How clarisse had grabbed your chin today… you rolled over and silently groaned into your pillow.

Clarisse the same girl that would shove you. The same girl that made fun of your archery skills and called you weak for being kind. The same girl that would gently run a hand around your waist when you were in line for food… clarisse the same girl, who looked at you differently from everyone.

Why did you feel like this, why did she out of everyone make you feel like an idiot, a love sick idiot at that.

You groaned once more into your pillow, not realize how loud you were until one of your sisters threw a throw pillow at your head telling you to sleep.

Laying back down on your back You Just looked back up at the soft pink ceiling. Sure you had always thought women were pretty, and while it was true you found yourself thinking about them how you should think about Logan— there was no way you were gay.. you had a boyfriend you were straight.

A straight girl

A… straight girl

——

A few days had passed.

You had been sitting inside the armory looking around as you waited for your daggers sheath to be repaired. Walking back you bumped into someone.

Before you could fall you felt a strong hand grab your waist, looking up you saw the curly haired girl who haunted your dreams.

“Watch where your going” she pushed you up helping you regain your balance.

You felt your cheeks turn red, “uh thank you” tucked some hair behind your ear embarrassed. Clarisse nodded taking note of your outfit of a camp shirt and shorts. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah whatever”

Charlie had decided to walk over finally “hey, sorry look were a little backed up but I can Promise your sheath will be fixed tonight alright?” He asked, You nodded before you could speak however clarisse scoffed “That’s bullshit, fix her sheath now”

“I just said i couldn’t”

“Whatever we both know it’ll take you five minutes—“

“It’s Fine Clarisse i don’t mind waiting” You looked up at her placing a hand on her forearm.

You smiled at Charlie as you walked out the armory. You left embarrassed by how clarisse had stood up for you, but also how you had touched her and how she allowed it.

Once you were gone Clarisse looked over noticing your dagger laying on the table. She swore you would loose your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck. “Fix her sheath now”

“Cl—“

“Did I stutter?”

——

You found yourself inside the Athena cabin with Logan while everyone else was at the bondfire, his siblings making teasing remarks as they left. He just shook his head before looking back at you. “Hey there sexy” he grinned, you stood between his legs with his hand on your thigh.

You cringed slightly but smiled. “Hey” playing with one of his blonde curls you felt his hand travel towards your ass. You grabbed his hand pulling it away “not today.. please I just really am not in the mood for it”

Logan rolled his eyes dramatically taking his hands off you and turning to face the books on his desk. “Of course” he complained.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked confused crossing your arms. “You know what it means— every-time we’re alone you don’t want to do shit I’m fucking over it, what’s the point of having a girlfriend if she doesn’t even want to make out with you”

“I’m just not that good of a kisser I—“

“Your a daughter of Aphrodite your good at everything love related, know what can you just stop with this bullshit” he stood up aggressively making you flinch back some. “Stop what” you looked down to afraid to meet his eyes.

Logan grabbed your chin harshly forcing you to look at him, it made you think back to clarisse how when she grabbed you it was almost gentle. You looked to the side and for a moment it was quiet, thinking he was done you heard Logan let out a scoff like laugh.

He pushed your head away. “Fuck you”

“What?”

“You know what you fucking slut.” He stepped towards you. “Can’t believe i didn’t realize it sooner” Logan continued to shake his head in disbelief. You tried to stand up for yourself but all you felt was a harsh slap met your cheek not even a moment later.

“Your disgusting, I see how you look at the other girls at camp— clarisse fucking la rue to be specific, I notice how you let your eyes wander on her, I bet you wish she was with you now huh?! I bet you wish she was the one who was kissing you huh?!” Logan tightly grabbed your face once again, tears brimming around your eyes. Trying to shake your head he just continued. “You disgust me- what would your dad think huh? To know his previous daughter was a fucking dyke

Logan jerked your head up forcing you to look at him before he hatefully kissed you.

It felt like forever, until you were suddenly dragged out the cabin. Looking up you saw clarisse having a tight hold on you.

It came back to you slowly, clarisse kicking open the door, shoving Logan into his bunk making him hit his head and now here where she started to take you across the camp

Her firm hold on your hand made you blush. It hurt how much you liked her and how much you knew you shouldn’t.

You watched as she yelled for everyone out of the ares cabin, letting out a string of offensives if anyone had something to say. Once they were gone it was quiet.

Clarisse led you to her bed setting you down gently before taking your face in her hands while examining the condition of you. “How Long” she mumbled.

“2 months after we got together” you quietly replied looking down. Clarisse pulled you into a hug, keeping a loving hold around you.

“I’m going to kill him” she tightened her grasp slightly, pulling away you shook your head “no, please I don’t want anyone knowing”

“Knowing how he treated you like shit”

“Knowing that I’m a fucking hypocrite clarisse!”You yelled, Clarisse kept quiet as this was the first time she’s heard you cuss. “Don’t you get it! How am I supposed to act if people find out that my entire relationship was toxic when im the one person most all people go to for love advice huh?! I’m a daughter of Aphrodite I’m supposed to be the person people admire! Imagine how embarrassing it’ll be to have people know I let my boyfriend hit me! And how the hell am I supposed to face anyone even my own father if they know im..” You choked on your tears leaning Into clarisse crying. She held you close not wanting to let go.

At this point you didn’t want to be anywhere else but in clarisses arms, where you didn’t feel forced or threatened you just simply felt loved.

——

You silently laid beside clarisse, just looking quietly into each-others eyes. Calmed down from your breakdown, You watched as she reached out fixing a piece of hair from your face. “..can I ask a question” she whispered. You nodded leaning some into her touch. “Are you.. are you gay”

After sone silence you nodded once again. “Yeah.. im not sure what I would be but.. I know for a fact I don’t like men” you admitted, a sense of anxiety washed over you. Clarisse continued to hold your face with an unreadable expression. “So a lesbian?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I guess so, I don’t really know much about queer identities anyways..”

“If You don’t like men Why did you bother to date Logan?” Her tone was sweet but confused. You couldn’t help but smile at the well known angry girl was now holding you with such care it made you feel butterflys. “I’m ashamed to be like this.. I’m not supposed to be a lesbian but I… am”

Before you noticed it, clarisse had leaned in kissing you. It was a quick kiss with her pulling away after a second. She muttered an apology while trying to leave, you however grabbed her before you could think bringing clarisse into another kiss, however this time it was longer and loving.

Sitting on your knees with your he daughter of ares fit in an awkward position you still continued to kiss her. Everything from before left your mind, how disgusting it felt up even kiss your boyfriend or now ex boyfriend, all you could think was how much you loved this girl.

Pulling away you kept your face close to clafisse. “I don’t understand.. I thought you hated me”

“Hated you.. really?!” She pushed back fixing her pose to be more comfortable. “I’ve been flirting with you this entire time”

“You Call shoving me around and calling me names flirting?”

“Yeah I—.. Look i don’t know shit about flirting but i thought it clear i liked you”

“No clafisse not at all” You laughed before moving to sit on the girls lap to kiss her. “Whatever it still worked Didnt it! Your here in my bed kissing me”

You lightly hit her with a smile. “I hate you”

“No you don’t” she laughed back kissing your cheek before looking at you, almost like she was trying to prove how much she loved you through just her eyes alone.

———

The following morning you had learned that Logan was currently in the infirmary with a long list of injuries you couldn’t even Name and your new girlfriend clarisse who was now being punished by Chiron. Aswell as the Ares cabin having a new found protective stance on the Aphrodite cabin

——

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #pjo show #percy jackson

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circledotdestroy · 11 months

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MY Girlfriend (Tamaki Amajiki x F!Reader)

Whenever you were called away for your work-study, both you and Tamaki had to accept that you could be gone for a couple of days or a couple of weeks. Every time you were away, Tamaki kept his phone in his hand whenever he could help it. He didn’t know when you were busy, if he were to text you while you were busy doing work then you could get distracted and something could fall on your head, or a villain can find you, or shoot you, or a bomb could go off, or your mentor might yell at you for having your phone on. This is why he rather be the one to check his messages around the clock, just in case he missed a vibration.

He would rather be the one to wait until you text him at the end of your work period to talk about your days, even if it was when he’d barely put down his suitcase in his dorm in the earliest hours of morning. No matter how many white hairs he gets, it will always be worth it when he gets those clusters of messages saying when you were coming back to him. Every time he reread those messages, the knots in his body became looser.

Within the next twenty-four hours, you were all his.

Whenever he could, Tamaki checked his phone, giving it a light squeeze whenever he saw an update on your whereabouts. He couldn’t contain his smile when he read the text saying you were on the second-to-last train on your way back while he walked from the lockers to class. Nejire had no problem loudly asking questions about the messages, which put unwanted attention on him from people wanting to know when you would be back from your two-week mission. He was proud to say that he didn’t go out of his way to hide his face with the wall, instead he simply used the cellphone to shield his eyes.

You were going to be on campus before the last class ended. When school is over, Tamaki is going to run to the P.E. Grounds and you two will spend the rest of the day together.

That’s all Tamaki hoped for. You two could take a stroll around the quiet parts of campus; or catch up on your tv show; or put a movie on while catching up; honestly anything you wanted to do with your time back, even if it was just taking a nap, Tamaki would be on board with. As long as you were here with him, he’s good.

When he went around the bricked corner of the gym building and saw the small crowd of people circling around what was supposed to be your reunion spot, his hopes were dashed. It seems that word spread around about your arrival, and the first and second years had beat him to it. He could hardly see you from where he was standing, but he was able to hear the constant questions from the younger students. Tamaki’s heart raced just looking at the tight-knit crowd, he didn’t want to imagine how suffocating your spot was right now. You probably couldn’t see him with how tall the other students are. He hid behind the wall, thinking in a minute the press-conference would be over.

However, as time passed, they did not let up on their questioning. Tamaki peaked past the corner, wishing the, now gapping, crowd was gone, and in those gaps he could see you. You weren’t in either uniform and your hair was a bit sloppier than normal, after all there were only so many things you can pack for a two week mission before it was too bulky to keep around. You had a few gauze pads and bandages on your head and your arms from the stories that you told him about, but when he looked downward his eyes widened.

You still had your suitcase with you.

You didn’t have the chance to put your stuff down and you’ve been getting hounded for the past, who knows how long?

Tamaki swallowed the lump in his throat and went around the crowd to the gap on your right side. He kept his gaze down as he grabbed the handle of your suitcase, he couldn’t freeze up now. Tamaki placed his left hand on your furthest shoulder and felt it tense–

“Tamaki!” He didn’t look up, but the delight in your voice gave him a butterfly or two in his stomach. Tamaki started to guide you away from the students.

“Wait, come back!”

“Where are you taking her?”

“Amajiki, where are you going?”

“You didn’t finish the story!”

Tamaki kept his head down, but found the courage to pause and glance up at the students. “I’m sorry, but she just came home and hasn’t had the time to put her things down. She worked for two weeks and is probably exhausted.” Tamaki turned to you. There was a smile on your face. It was small, proud, and made him feel like he could accomplish anything. He turned back to the younger students, “she might be your upperclassmen, but she’s MY girlfriend.”

The crowd tensed up, and Tamaki put his attention back down to your suitcase. The group then started saying how they were sorry for being inconsiderate of your time. Tamaki took that as his cue to finally take you away to rest.

“Amajiki!” Tamaki paused, hearing Kirishima’s voice. “What you did just now was really manly!”

His face was getting hotter under the gold sky. He gave your shoulder a light squeeze, wondering why he had to say that last part out loud.

“I’m taking my girlfriend home!”

~~~~~

When you were away from the admiring hero course students, you told Tamaki that you really just wanted to lie down in your own bed, after two weeks of work. Tamaki had no problem setting up your room with food and entertainment for the rest of the afternoon, while you took a shower and got comfortable.

Now here you are lying down, catching up with your sweetheart of a boyfriend, while the tv plays in the background. You paused from playing with Tamaki’s hand, smiling at what happened only a couple of hours before.

“You know, it was really hot– the way you were all intimidating and protective of me…”

Tamaki ran his free hand up to cover his eyes and his flushed skin. “It was… fine– what do you mean intimidating?”

“You scared them with your intense gaze, I’m pretty sure they’re going to have nightmares, but you did a good job- saving me,” you continued with a playful tone.

Tamaki took a deep breath and moved the hand from his pink face. His eyes met yours briefly, traveled around the room, then went back to your face. “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x female reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #mha tamaki x reader #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x fem reader #fluff

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yostresswritinggirl · 1 year

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Kintsugi (11)

: "to repair with gold"

Scaramouche / Wanderer x First Puppet! Reader

After his third betrayal, he stumbles upon the one thing that would never deceive him. Not a god, not a human; a broken puppet, discarded just like him. Part 1. Extras.

"This land has no place for us, thus we will find it somewhere else."

You've found yourself behind Kunikuzushi once again with his arm extended as a barrier between you and the world he so desperately wants to protect you from.

It was an unconscious habit, second nature by now to him. Something that once conflicted you now became your normal.

Your light touch on the hand that hovers over his blade eased the rising tension in his shoulders, opting to instead wrap his digits around yours with a reassuring squeeze. Too reckless; that and you'd always been more patient when it comes to humans.

After refusing the coat, Kuni would slightly turn to you and adjust the veil to cover you better despite claiming just now that the cold doesn't affect you both.

"I know of a place that would be beneficial to you, the same place where this boat is heading," the stranger that helped you both turns his head to you. "But this one here..."

Despite the mask, there is an undeniable look of scrutiny underneath it that unconsciously forced you to hide your exposed limbs beneath the veil.

You almost missed the way he tilts his head slightly in deeper contemplation when Kunikuzushi suddenly pulled you close to his chest, an arm circling your back to grip at your forearm.

There was an emphasized growl when he speaks your name towards the Harbinger. He was correcting this all-powerful man, all so he addresses you by your new name instead of some object. "They're with me. You take both of us or none at all."

"Interesting." He seems preoccupied with something else. That doesn't seem to be in response to Kuni's words.

A shock like shiver courses through your body as your eyes narrowed at him.

"Very intriguing." You cannot trust this doctor.

Turns out you DO need a coat.

Here in the land furthest north the cool wind bites at those who are fragile, and out of the two of you, the frost bites through your cracks and restrains you stronger than the vines back in your homeland. Over your haori lies Scaramouche's harbinger coat.

Yet despite its thickness, trips outside to barren lands of snow is still risky. You sigh, at least mimic the action, who would have thought you'd miss sitting outside under the shade of sakura trees.

You also miss Kunikuzushi, who was now busy with tending to his work as a Fatui Harbinger.

Like how Snezhnaya hides away the sun, Kunikuzushi was only spoken behind closed doors.

Lord Harbinger or Lord Scaramouche is what he goes by now, titled by the gracious Cryo archon herself in welcome of you two. The benevolent Tsaritsa that accepted your presence as much as Kunikuzushi.

Before you spiral into madness at the thoughts of her soft gaze of recognition, huge and heavy steps easily took your notice.

Your fingers wraps protectively around the sakura bloom by instinct, harder to do so than before, before you turned your head to see Sandrone already looking at you.

"Waiting for someone?" Her smile is as demure as usual, but the tilt of her head betrays her true intrigue.

Sandrone and Dottore, you were quick to find out their interests in you and Kunikuzushi for the simple fact that you are living puppets. You've heard various warnings from Kuni to not be deceived by their invitations and coaxing, and to only engage when he's with you.

She at least made repairs and gave useful pointers when your body started acting up. Albeit, under the orders of the Tsaritsa.

The robot holding the Marionette suddenly shifts to retrieve something from its pocket, and soon the both of them make their way to stand in front of you. "I'm positive of the inconvenience that petal in your hand brings." Without fear, you also narrow your eyes at this Harbinger. "How curious, but I am only here to offer a simple solution."

From a silent command, the huge gauntlet of the robot unfurls to reveal a small empty vial attached to a necklace chain.

The gaze on you was searing and hawk-like as the Harbinger watched your ministrations, your stiff hands gently nudging the petal inside the vial before donning the necklace. It hangs just over your chest. Yet Sandrone, the Marionette, still can't seem to look away.

Out of all the Fatui Harbingers, it was Dottore, Sandrone, and occasionally Tartaglia that actually paid attention to you.

And it's that fact that Kunikuzushi explicitly warned you to stay away, or at least not be alone in their presence. More for the crazed ones who are mostly interested in your anatomy and mechanisms than anything else.

The only time you were even physically close to them were when you had to be fixed upon your first malfunction in the cold, and that was due to the benevolence of the Tsaritsa, any harm on you would have broken more than just your joints.

It was only when you covered the petal with your haori did Sandrone finally look away, still that gentle yet seemingly malicious smile on her face.

"Say, how long have you had that sakura bloom?"

A cough and a call of your name had you eagerly turn to Kuni - Scaramouche, his eyes wide before redirecting a glare towards his fellow Harbinger. "Let's go, we have places to be." And with a protective hand on your shoulder, you left the Palace.

The Balladeer consists of two lords.

This was a fact that only those that worked under Scaramouche knows and something that other Fatuus would look at them weirdly for. Was this some kind of gaslighting beaten into them after all the trauma they deal with daily for unfortunately working for the Balladeer?

But they are none the wiser, after all, Lord Scaramouche had always been so careful and secretive when it comes to you.

When you came to Snezhnaya, you never had a title for yourself other than your name and aged folklore that died with your departure. Your affiliation with the Fatui is also superficial, as your ties are only with Scaramouche. Your loyalty lies with Kunikuzushi, and Kunikuzushi's loyalty lies with your safety.

Arrangements followed suit and you had your own subordinates to mobilize even if you had no need for them.

The Balladeer's other lord is a blessing - a vacation. When the underlings rotate to switch from serving Scaramouche to being under your command, it was always a massive relief for them. After all, Lord Scaramouche is ruthless and you were low maintenance.

They felt more like retainers and bodyguards, looking out for you and fetching whatever you may need. The only time it felt like a job was when Scaramouche was visiting, or you wanted to be outside for a walk. You always loved to look around and the awe of the frozen wasteland had always been baffling for the locals who had long grown tired of the weather and wither.

The job only ends up badly when you turn up 'sick' after a walk outside in the cold. Despite their warnings, it would be them that gets punished by Scaramouche.

You may be patient, a blessing in the Fatui, but you are no means inherently good. After all, you value fairness above all. "Please, my lord, don't send us back to Lord Scaramouche." One of the new recruits practically begged by your feet.

Everyone else were too late to prevent him, not when you stopped writing in your journal to look down at the kneeling recruit. "But we've always had this rotation set up ever since?" The softness of your voice, devoid of edge, must have urged the confidence of the soldier.

"You must understand, Lord Scaramouche had always been ruthless! I would rather serve you forever, you have my utmost loyalty, Lord -"

"Don't." The fatui soldier shuddered at your harsh gaze looking down at him, shakily forcing him to remove his hold on the end of your veil. "You wish to receive a different treatment? What about the poor soul who's supposed to switch with you? Are you fine with them staying in Kuni's command permanently so you could stay here?"

Turning back to your table, you refused to continue your writing as you gripped at your kimono, expression only visible to the masked-desperate soldier.

The coldness in the room bites with the addition of electricity. "Selfish... Selfish humans..." And you closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge anything else.

Never had any soldier sighed in relief at the arrival of the Balladeer, but just this once, when he finally visited your quarters did the unnerved subordinates finally had a semblance of sanity after being subjected to silence so damning. No one had told them what to do when you went into this state after all - sitting stock still, unmoving, without a breath or a single word out of you no matter what they do.

The feeling of Kunikuzushi's hand adjusting your slipping veil finally roused you from your stasis, turning your head to look back at his thinly veiled worried gaze. "Kuni."

"I'm here." His eyes flickered to look at the fatui soldiers standing by. "Your henchmen reported you acting... Differently, are you feeling okay? Do you need check up again?"

This would go down in history as one of the events that the Fatui soldiers would never believe. Even as witness, the sight still felt like a fever dream from the harsh cold of the region.

The rarest sight of them all. Of their very own Lord Scaramouche speaking in such softness and gentleness only a mother to their child could mimic, matched with a worried gaze that looked so foreign and unwelcomed to his usually glared eyes. And that foreign name not even the most trusted soldier under his command is privy to.

So easy to fall behind just for you.

"Then let's walk, I have time." Urging you to stand, the harbinger himself took your (his) coat from the chair to drape over your shoulders. A second of silence passed before he suddenly pulled his hat down to hide your faces from the soldiers.

Incoherent whispers that had everyone intrigued, but when he leaned away, a smile on your face was revealed.

The walk was pleasant for everyone.

Scaramouche could see it in the slight purse of your lips and the furrow of your brows, that even your vow to silence, he knows you still do not have it in you to be as disconnected as him.

No matter the betrayals, their discrimination, their capability to harm - you still find it in you to sympathize with humans. You only stayed silent as it was an order.

But he couldn't leave you there, vulnerable in the presence of other Harbingers, and so you find yourself stepping foot on the very soil you've left behind years ago. It was a different experience in comparison to your trip to Mondstadt when he was investment the meteor shower.

Scaramouche had to take care of the delivery of the delusions first, and with the small freedom you had before you explore the current Inazuma once he was done, your feet carried you to a familiar sight. The calming sight of pink rain and the soothing scent of said blooms.

You miss the freedom you had wandering the lands of Inazuma, before the Tsaritsa swept him away. Despite still seeing each other almost daily, his duty had kept him from the same routine, the same freedom. And for what? To take the gnosis from the Raiden Shogun to match her power?

You had every right to be skeptical the moment he became clear of his intentions simply because you knew him. Better than anyone. Perhaps better than himself.

The puppet you knew, of Kunikuzushi, never once strived for power. From the stories of the humans he met, even if vile, not once did it cross your mind that he would turn out to be this way.

He's lonely, hurt, betrayed.

You feel the same way, but how would the electro gnosis fix that? The idea of godhood only brought him pain, would this really be the right course of action for him?

And what about you... What's your purpose in this world?

Ambitions... Your hand reaches out towards the Sacred Sakura as if it felt natural, one of its petals whisked away from the tree to slowly descend in front of you. Would keeping it safe be enough to be called an ambition? Is... Staying by his side enough of a purpose?

"To think that there would be more than one of you. More so, stepping foot in my shrine."

The feeling of an object lightly tapping on the back of your head had you distracted, the petal falling past your awaiting hand.

"I suppose I sha'nt make the same mistakes. Close your eyes now, little one."

A beautiful flash of purple and violets shrouded your vision.

Scaramouche is in a good mood - was in a good mood - before he arrived back in the Fatui hideout to look for you. He had gotten what he wanted, and with all his goals achieved, there was no reason to stay with this wretched organization that only sought to test his patience.

Yet he was greeted not by his companion but of tight-lipped subordinates who cannot speak even if he beats it out of their system.

It was only when a soldier he vaguely remembers to be under your command rushed in did he finally get his answer.

"My lord, we are in dire need of your assistance." The sourness of his expression becomes apparent, but the soldier persists in desperation. "It has happened again - an accident occurred with the other lord."

The sky overhead was as gloomy as the day he was discarded.

Yet despite the carnage of blood and bodies laying around, Kunikuzushi was fearless on approaching the familiar form with your back turned towards him. Not even the thunder and lightning would keep him away from you.

"(Y/N)." The discarded veil in his hand is frayed and scorched on the edges. "I'm here."

Without a word, the turbulent weather ceased its anger, leaving behind a deafening silence. Even as you slowly turned it was soundless.

Only when he dropped to his knees did the illusion of peace shattered.

"What..." Kunikuzushi's hands shook on its way to cradle your cheeks. "What have they done to you?"

He does not realize his tears, not when his thumb gingerly stroked at the lightning marks that burned your skin. It was still warm. It was warm anywhere he touched.

Yet this warmth brought him no comfort whatsoever.

Nothing is more insulting than to be this fragile, to be this desperate, to stoop so low, to back down on his very words to enlist the help of a human.

But he was his only hope, even if he so desperately wants to destroy him right here right now with just his glare. The effort would not be worth it - this isn't the real one, after all.

Dottore is at least a wise man to not say a word about this predicament. In his head, he scolds himself for not seeing this approach sooner.

No matter, he is getting what he wants either way.

Scaramouche falling into his hand with a simple promise was already a guaranteed success. But for the arrogant puppet to offer his most prized possession so easily? He has guaranteed at least one win on this trip.

"It seems you have been preoccupied during your absence, and this is what I see of you after escaping surveillance." Nevermind, he simply could not hold his tongue.

After making sure you're sat properly on the operating table, Dottore's segment took a step to the side to escape a bolt meant to strike him, instead hitting a Fatui Skirmisher. It would be no surprised if he was dead on the spot.

"I agreed to collaborate with you -" even if he was to benefit from it all, Dottore rolled his eyes in his mind. "And I can easily revoke my decision if you dare overstep, mortal."

"I am merely stating a fact, but know that this opportunity is indeed too great to be lost. I will take good care of them."

Scaramouche does not hide the way he rolled his eyes before turning to you, eyes immediately softening to provide assurance. So long as he lives, you would be safe, he assured you.

Removing the veil and folding the fan finally gave the doctor the full detail of the damage he's agreed to fix.

He can see now why the ever so prideful harbinger would come to him for help. The second had only ever admired you from afar due to the obvious hostility of the lord harbinger, but even now in your most vulnerable, there is still an eerie ethereal aura around you.

Lichtenberg figures - the scar runs along your face and reaches deeper, continuing under your robes and layers. It was akin to burned branches decorating your already deteriorating skin, flaking from time and damages.

Like a porcelain filled with cracks, ready to fall apart.

Sandrone would kill him for having this opportunity first.

As Scaramouche carefully lays you down to rest, you can't help but keep your eyes on his. When had he last been so unguarded with his emotions that you can easily see through them? The guilt, the anxiety, the despair - all laid bare for you to see.

In your fatigue you managed to take his hand, hand in crumbling hand, he lands a kiss on the back of your hand. Like a silent promise.

"I will be here when you wake up," Scaramouche gently caressed your flaking hand. "In a perfect form you've always deserved."

On your way to sleep, you cannot help but let the endearing thought occupy your thoughts: he seemed more hesitant to let go of your hand than you to his.

Your dreams were pleasant because of it.

"They have fallen into a deep sleep." The soon-to-be god gently settled your hand on the table. "I will uphold my end of our arrangement, so long as you do yours."

"Tch." Taking out the electro gnosis from under his kimono, he wasted no time placing it on the doctor's awaiting palm. "Here."

"And the second agreement."

And in here he hesitates, sending one last look on your form and one last glare to Dottore. "If I find out you've done something, I will end you myself." He spits with venom combined from eons of mistrust, before slamming the metal door on his way out.

Alone in this section of the factory, Dottore can't help but indulge in a triumphant laugh for a second as he rolls the chess piece in between his gloved fingers. It crackles to life as he walks closer to where the other puppet rests.

"Finally, I have found my answers." Holding it at its crown, Dottore slowly places the gnosis down next to your head. "Aren't you so fascinating? You've disproven all my theories, and yet I am not at all disappointed."

To think that a prototype had long overshadowed your light...

Waking up felt like leaving a warm embrace under the bittersweet accompaniment of a shedding cherry blossom tree, fallen leaves each rousing you to the path of consciousness with the softest of touches.

You leave your dream with the image of a smile, and wake up to one as you finally focused your vision.

"I'm here." Scaramouche stepped back when you quickly slid off the table, following closely as you made your way to the large mirror on the other side of the room. "It seems the operation was a success."

Success? "But - this is - " You touched the lines on your face. What modifications were you expecting beforehand? A new body? A new skin? You didn't expect it to be -

"Kintsugi." Scaramouche's hands slowly coaxed your hands off your face to show the golden lines clearly. You soon realize that your skin had been renewed to remove the flaking state, and the joints that were damaged were fixed. But there were no other changes, significant changes.

"I don't understand, the perfect form -"

His hand traced the branches of gold so lovingly, tenderly, with eyes of serenity you had never seen before. "You are already in your perfect form since the day I met you." The veil, trimmed to remove the damage from before, once again lays on your head. "There is no need to change you."

Watching yourself pull the veil close to your face, you can't help but admire how well the gold matches with the transparent purple.

To be looked at with such adoration from a beautiful doll like him.

"And once I become a god, I will create a perfect world for you too, one that you deserve and deserves you."

You close your eyes as he cradled your cheeks of beautiful scars.

"With this as my proof, I will walk this new life in my own terms." The Traveler does not miss the melancholic smile the Wanderer dons as he cradles the vision by his chest, even when he desperately tries to hide it under the shade of his hat. "For the both of us."

"Both of us?"

"Yes, I -" Locking eyes with the Traveler, his hopeful gaze from earlier dissipates to that of indifference. "Have you seen (Y/N)?"

"Huh? We've never heard of that name before." Paimon interjects, prying for clues on the image of this mystery person. "Paimon doesn't think we've seen anyone like that, even back in the port when we were with Dehya."

"Buer." Turning to the God of Wisdom, there was a sadness in her eyes that had only manifested now.

"I have the answers you seek, but... it may not be the answers you want." When his gaze doesn't waver, the dendro archon continues. "After negotiating with the doctor after the Traveler passed out..."

"While it is unfortunate that I was unable to see the results of this experiment, it at least gave way to another, more promising one." Lesser Lord Kusanali watched in apprehension and curiosity as the harbinger emerged from behind a pillar in the sanctuary, an unmoving form in his arms.

At that time, the dendro archon had no knowledge in her disposal to understand the direness in the situation, or the implications underlying it. All that she knew is that this was non-negotiable.

Even if she had the strength to fight, there was a possessiveness to the doctor that screams to her. This one, this puppet in his hands, is something he would not let go with simple bargains.

"Not only have you provided me with the gnoses, but you have removed the greatest obstacle to my newest magnum opus."

"This, is the only thing that was left behind." Placing the object she had cradled in her tiny hands on the Wanderer's palm, a familiar vial greets the puppet. "I'm sorry."

A necklace with a glass pendant. Inside lies a wilted petal that once shone a beautiful shade of pink.

Strong gale swirls around them as the Wanderer laughs, the glass exploding into shattered remains in his palm as he does so. "So this was your plan all along, Dottore? First, you take away my gnosis. And then..."

The edge on his voice makes the Traveler step back. But speechless when he raised his head to glare at the sky, his hat uncovering the hateful tears streaming down his cheeks. "You take away the only one that ever mattered to me. That vile, filthy -"

You must be so scared.

Clutching his vision close to his chest, the faint hum in the rhythm of a gentle heartbeat does not console him anymore.

Thank you for reading Kintsugi! This is the ending, folks! However I will be publishing another piece for this of all the different scenarios that got scrapped as well as in-depth explanation of the elements of this story. There were a lot of things changed and removed here in comparison to the original concept, and I will share them next time, but I hope you still enjoyed this one!

@deepdinosaurwizard @local-mr-frog @angryhope @rowielol @shoujishu @notyuki @asteriacos @willburzone @crystalcosplays @hxqlou @rolo-at-midnight @ireallylikehamsters @crxwned-mxnarch @reveltica @seddiepilled

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #the wanderer #exile.flower #sumeru arc #gender neutral #genshin impact #kintsugi #Genshin impact angst

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q1ngqve · 3 months

Note

Your aventio fic got me in a chokehold and now I'm frothing??? I'm being tormented by the same principal but with Jing Yuan and Dan Heng. Reader being the anxious babe that they are avoiding them at ALL costs outside nessasary things since they don't think that their pursuit is genuine (or that they're pretty or smart enough to be with them) Anti-stalking x 100. Like "hello??? The GENERAL and IMBIBITOR LUNE, interested in me??? Sounds fake af" but their also secretly down bad as well, and having bracelets corresponding to them at all times? A subtle marking of their claim over you by your own volition would probably stir something within them.

I'd think the general would enjoy the hunt while Dan Heng tries to not but can't help but be lured in by readers sweetness. A hidden archive dedicated to you is kept by Dan Heng and updated regularly, Jing Yuan sends his retainer to check up on you from time to time. And if they discover what the other is doing??? Would they team up? Mayhaps, and If so, good luck since you have a LION and a DRAGON, pursuing you. Isn't that perfect? But good luck, once your in their grasp you are not leaving untill the only thing you can remember is their names.

I'd find it even funnier if they got access to their fanfic reading list. For me that's sacred but for them it'd be a GOLD MINE, especially when it comes to readers kinks (praise kinks, marking??? Oral??? Oh~ breeding? Now thats jnteresting) WHAT ABOUT THE FANFICS WRITTEN BY XIANZHOU NATIVES??? BRUH READER HAVING SO MANY FEATURING THEM SAVED AND HAVE WRITTEN SOME THEMSELVES CONFIRMS THE FEELING ARE MUTUAL.

Waiting untill the perfect time, they pounce. Conveniently bumping into Dan Heng during the Lunar Festival celebrations and making small talk before the General bumps into the two before suggesting getting food to celebrate the new year's. Timidly excepting the rimvife dinner goes normally untill it doesn't. The restaurant is small yet not busy despite the festivities. (they call reader nicknames (darling) that were used in readers fanfic that make reader flush) (giving genuine praise and watching them flush. Eventually Dan Heng suggest staying at the attached inn due to how crowded it is Outside " oh no! There's only one room remaining! I guess wr have to share a room. How unfortunate." 🤔 and thus all three end up getting one conveniently large private suite.

Once the door is closed they Sandwich reader between the two as Jing Yuan and Dan Heng confess their feelings, trapping reader so they dont run away. When reader objects, Flustered and in disbelif Jing Yuan cant help but tease about their "little findings" while Dan Heng eyes the bracelets on their arms. Posessiebess blooming at the epiphany of the btacelets meanings as their vidyahara traits peak out. If the insecurities come out to? Then they'll have to make sure that reader (and their body) remembers their love by devouring them whole.

( Even better if those findings are used against reader. Awe is their darling shy? And theyre tryjng to muffle their moans and hide their face? Don't worry, those two make sure reader drowns in so such pleasure that it'll be the furthest thing from their prettty little mind)

If reader ends up cover in marks almost impossible to hide and unable to walk for days after and having to be carried out of the suite the next day? Then that's none of our business.

(Sorry if this is long, I'm frothing at the mouth and losing my mind. That aventio fic has rewired my brain in the best way possible and I need to get this out of my mind ajdbdhdindkdn)

✒️

hello anon…? you are so big brained and for what 🤭ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི i had a good time gobbling this shit up

#this is a whole fic on its own 🤭#✒️ anon!!!!!#hsr #honkai star rail #jing yuan #dan heng #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader

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majimatime · 1 year

Text

Do What You Want (Roman Roy x Reader)

A/N: I had the idea for this at like 2am right after the newest episode came out, and I finally put it into writing!! This is my first ever Succession fanfiction and of course it had to be about Roman, I adore him this season. (Also, a warning for weird business/power dynamics.)

You sit at a small desk in a poorly lit office in Waystar’s LA office building. There’s an email displayed on your laptop from Joy Palmer, an executive at Waystar’s film production company, and you’ve read it about fifty times now. One more scan won’t hurt.

‘Your CEO terminated my employment over lunch this afternoon. You will be hearing from my legal team shortly.’

As the head of entertainment coverage at ATN, you’ve worked pretty closely with Joy Palmer over the past couple years. Your department reviews all the films that flow through her production company, and you cover (and sometimes attend) the premieres of all their atrocious superhero movies. It’s a fruitful business relationship—that’s just been totally shattered.

You ball your hands into fists and rest your head against them, squeezing your eyes shut. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told you that Roman was meeting with her? Why hadn’t Roman told you? This is just…dumb. It’s so, so dumb.

It’s not like Roman hasn’t come to you about business stuff before—you’re actually pretty close. When you were promoted to the head of entertainment coverage, you were sort of initiated into the inner circle—with the old guard, Tom, the kids, and Logan Roy himself. You were completely and utterly out of your element, attending board meetings, cross-country business deliberations, and all the other fancy shit that comes with the territory. Roman almost instantly latched himself onto you when you entered his sphere, making weird jokes at your expense and then watching attentively for your reaction with those big, expressive eyes. You found all his stupid comments pretty funny, and you liked the way he lit up when you laughed at them, and so a bond was created. Right now, though… He’s taken the stupid thing a bit too far.

Just as you’re about to look back up at your laptop and start drafting an extremely apologetic response, there’s a knock at the door. “Yeah?” you call.

“It’s your boss—open up,” comes a reply from one Roman Roy.

You exhale heavily as an exasperated, slightly amused grin stretches across your face. What exactly is he looking for, coming to you after he royally fucked your job? “Yeah, come in.”

Roman opens the door and steps inside, and Christ, does he look upset. You’re a little taken aback by this; you sort of expected him to be in good spirits, high off the power trip of firing a crucial member of the Waystar machine. In true Roman fashion, he forgoes the chair in front of your desk and sits on the small table across the room, swinging his legs lightly back and forth. “Ken told me where you were holed up,” he explains. His tone is casual enough, but he looks nauseous. “What the hell are you doing in this weird little shitty office anyways?”

You laugh a little, shutting your laptop and folding your hands across the desk. “It’s a pretty normal office, Roman,” you reply, “and it’s one of the furthest points in the building from where your brother’s set up shop. I was working near him for like an hour, but all I could hear was blocking and dialogue planning and set designing…” Roman rolls his eyes, and you grin. “It was like sitting backstage at a community theater rehearsal.”

Roman laughs shortly at that. “Ew. That sounds horrific.”

“Yeah, it was.” Your voice trails off, and the two of you fall into silence. Your eyes are fixed on Roman, but his are bouncing all over the place—from you, to the corner of the room, to his hands that he’s been wringing nonstop since he walked through the door. He’s obviously thinking about the monumental fucking mistake he made earlier, and you certainly are too. “…So. Joy Palmer, huh?”

His demeanor changes instantly, and he snaps his head back like he’s been poised to move this whole time, just waiting for you to bring her up. “Yeah, that was—it’s sad,” he says loudly, uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not cool. But really, it was necessary. She’s not a good fit with what Kendall and I—what we’re trying to do.”

“Huh.” You lean forward a little, ducking your head so he can’t see the scowl that flashes across your face. “…Not a good fit. Okay.” She has everything, really: experience, connections, a willingness to produce shitty movies just to make Waystar more money. Sure, she had been a little shaky recently about Waystar’s politics, but that issue could’ve easily been resolved with a bit more money offered in the right way. But that’s all thrown out the window now, and you hope Roman realizes how bad that is.

You’re not sure he does, so you emphasize it. “I mean, I’ve been kind of working her for the past few months,” you offer, looking up to meet Roman’s gaze. “I know her big issue is dealing with the political side of ATN, which I mean—sure, no one wants to work with the Jeryd Mencken Fan Club. But…in the last week I was actually making some progress with her. There was potential there—“

”There was potential?” You freeze when Roman interrupts you; his voice is low but his tone is venomous. “Okay…” He sucks in air sharply through his gritted teeth, and he glues his gaze to the floor. “I guess—I guess I’m just wondering, what fucking good is potential when she’s sitting there complaining to me across the table about this thing that you’ve apparently worked out already?”

You bite your bottom lip hard and breathe deeply through your nose. “…I don’t know, Roman. So you fire her? That’s the move? You fire her so that we have to get someone else who has less connections, less experience, who is fucking lesser in every way—just because you got mad?”

“Oh my God,” he breathes, jerkily running a hand through his hair, “fuck off. Why are you doing this?” You frown; did he think you were just going to let him off the hook? Congratulate him on his first big independent move as CEO? But then his head sinks into his open palms, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and you realize suddenly that that is exactly what he’d expected. Or hoped for. He’s still for just long enough that you get nervous; when you’re about to ask him if he’s alright, though, he raises his head and locks eyes with you.

Your phone dings, and you break eye contact to quickly check the notification. It’s one of your writers; she’s sent you a text about the Joy news, and by the tone of her message, she’s extremely freaked out. When you look back to Roman, he’s still staring at you with that same angry disappointment—disappointment that you won’t just lay down and tell him he did the right thing. “Listen, Roman,” you begin, holding his gaze, “it’s my job too. I mean you’re the new CEO, you’re fuckin’ stretching your legs—good for you. But if we lose the movie side of our operation for a while because of this… That’s abysmal for me.”

His eyes widen a little, and you’re shocked to see, for just a second, an apology forming at his lips—but before he can finish mouthing “sorry” he stops, pressing his mouth into a hard line. He stares down with furrowed eyebrows at his hands, lightly clasped together in his lap, and he’s silent for a long time. As you watch him, he takes a deep, labored breath. “Well, in that case…” He’s barely audible. “Why don’t I just fire you too? Since you failed to convince a chief executive to stick with the company and tanked your department.”

The shocked grin that pops onto your face is completely involuntary, and you breathe an exasperated, “Oh my God.” You turn away and shake your head, taking a steady breath. What the fuck’s gotten into him? You’ve already seen that he’s not afraid to make horrific business decisions; firing you would come as easily to him as breathing right now. But you’re not going to beg Roman Roy, your only friend in this morally bankrupt circus, for your job. You refuse to. So, you fold your hands across your desk, and you reply as evenly as you can. “Technically, Roman, you don’t fire me. Tom Wambsgans does.”

He raises his eyebrows, and you can practically hear the “um, actually” before he even opens his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” you continue, smiling ruefully, “you can just fire Tom, and fucking—eat him alive and become him, and then… You can do whatever you want with me, right?” This has almost become amusing; you feel a weird compulsion to laugh.

That feeling vanishes when you see the look on Roman’s face. It’s like you flipped a switch; his gaze instantly disconnects from yours and he looks straight down like he’s trying to stare a hole through his shoe. You frown a little as you peer over at him, trying to figure out what the hell he’s thinking, when you fully realize what you just said. It’s an invitation, a statement more intimate than anything you’ve ever said to each other before, and he knows it. Roman slowly stands up from his seat and you watch him, look closely at the expression on his face—and the darkness in his eyes confirms your thoughts. It’s not like you’ve never thought about him in that way; frankly, he’s the only human connection you’ve made since you started at Waystar. You’ve often wondered (or perhaps hoped) if he was ever going to make a move on you, and a long time ago, you decided that if he ever did, you’d reciprocate it. You’re going to do just that. He wants a win, and you want him—everyone gets what they need.

He takes a few measured steps towards you and you feel yourself lean just a bit closer to him; just as you’re about to stand, he bends down, snakes his arms around your waist, and practically yanks you up to meet him. With a forcefulness that you’ve never, ever seen him display, he kisses you, disregarding gentleness and letting everything run on pure, unfiltered instinct. Your hands quickly find him, and you place one firmly against his cheek while the other slides through his hair. He holds on for a bit longer, trying to put as much as possible into that first, fantastic kiss, and then he has to pull away.

As you part, both reeling, he whispers, “Say that again.” When you don’t respond—you’re still catching your breath—he mumbles, “Please. Please say it.”

You’re more than happy to oblige him, and you stare right into his dark eyes as you speak. “You can do whatever you want with me, Roman.” Your words coax a full body shudder from him, and his lips are right back on yours, hands running over every part of your body they can access. His fingers skirt under the hem of your shirt and there’s a loud fucking knock at the door—and you both freeze exactly where you are.

It’s Kendall. Great. “Hey Rome, I saw you come in here, buddy. Uh—we’re, uh, crunching some big ass numbers out here, and I would love to have your eyes on these maximizations to the user-facing stock plane.”

“What the fuck does that mean…?” you breathe, and a short, high-pitched laugh escapes Roman.

As you both try to suppress your laughter beneath wide grins, Kendall calls, “What was that, bro?”

Roman quickly clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec, Ken.”

“Cool. Fantastic.” And you and Roman both stand there, listening to his footsteps as they grow fainter and more distant.

The rush of the moment has faded severely, and even though you acknowledge how fucking amazing that felt and would like nothing more than to continue, you know it’s not the most practical thing to do. “…You should probably head out there, right? Make sure he doesn’t just start making up figures?”

Roman snorts as he untangles himself from you. “Yeah, he would do that, wouldn’t he?” He stands before you, looking wonderfully disheveled, and you reach out to fix his collar and smooth his hair.

He practically melts under your touch as you comb through his hair with your fingers. You half expect him to kiss you again, but it seems the tension was sucked out of the room by Kendall and his corporate bullshit speak. You wish he would kiss you again. After one last sweep of his hair, you propel yourself forward and kiss him gently, sweetly; he kisses back, but he makes no attempt to move closer to you, so you take a step forward and close the gap.

“…I’m fucking this up,” he mutters, quiet and dejected, after you part. “I’m doing it all wrong and I’m being stupid.”

He’s not necessarily wrong; you try to ignore that thought as he turns and walks to the door. “Just take care of your brother,” you say with a little smile, and he gives a muted grin and a thumbs up back.

He’s so bad at this and he’s so sad. You sit back down and crack open your laptop, and within seconds about thirty emails flood into your inbox—it’s Joy’s legal team, just like she promised. You groan, and lean back, and try to get your mind off the feeling of Roman’s lips on yours so you can draft a decent apology.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy imagines #roman roy imagine #succession x reader #succession imagine #my writing

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novthewolf · 2 months

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Hey! so i'm new to this, but I wanted to ask if I could request an Alice Cullen x Fem! reader? One where Alice has been friends with reader since the Cullens moved to Forks and reader finds out the Cullens are vampires on accident which leads to a confession and a small, cute kiss! :)

For sure couldn't foresee that !

Pairing : Alice Cullen x Fem!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : fluff, dead animal, blood, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +2,6k

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Let the sunshine... let the sunshine in...

This was the song that was blasting in your ears almost every day in your little rainy town. You lived there all your life, and you were almost sure you could bet how many sunny days would occur during the whole year. 'Cause your life here in Forks was this predictable.

The same roads, the same weather, the same days, the same people... Never anything you knew, no sign of new blood in sight. And in a quite ironic way, you were right about that.

A shy ray of sun is trying to shine through the clouds to reach you, in particular at the hospital. What would normally be an uneventful checkup turned out to be much more interesting.

Your mother was complaining about the waiting time, as usual, since Forks's medical staff was always vacant. You sat on top of the table, bored, when a doctor finally came in.

"Sorry for the wait, but don't worry, there's someone coming soon to help us!" She explained that she was obviously ecstatic and needed to share that information with every patient.

That's got your attention. "Someone ?" You inquired as she pressed the stethoscope to your chest, your cold-sensitive skin shivering.

"Oh yes, a very talented doctor is moving to Forks with his family." She smiled brightly, and you mirrored her smile, excited by the news. "We are extremely lucky."

You spent all the time waiting for those 'Cullens'; you kept wishing the doctor's kids wouldn't be toddlers but high schoolers like you. You were in your senior year, and you were so thrilled that you would finally get the chance to experience something new before going off to college.

Obviously, the whole town was bubbling with excitement, except for the reservation's kids, who, for some reason, you spotted less and less. Finally, the Cullens had arrived in Forks, and thankfully, they were indeed high schoolers. However, they were younger than you since they were only in the ninth grade.

Which you instantly thought was the dumbest lie ever. None of them looked like they were fifteen; they were far from that. They were so tall—well, most of them—and their features were so defined that there was not a speck of childhood left on their faces.

It wasn't the only thing that intrigued you. Yes, you weren't repealed, just fascinated. They were all so pale, but again, so were you from the lack of sun. And the way they moved, how they acted... One especially caught all your attention.

You noticed her a week after she arrived. Alice was her name. You and your friends were making your way through the cafeteria when you felt... observed. As you rubbed the back of your neck, you turned around to watch the furthest table, near the windows.

Two big, seemingly golden eyes were staring right at you. Her hair was deep black, cut short, and messily pointing in every direction. She was incredibly thin, her beautiful white hands proving your thoughts as her chin rested gracefully on them. You blushed when you realized how sweet her smile was. It actually widened once you finally paid attention to her, her eyes sparkling.

She was so petite too—4'10 tops. You didn't even consider yourself a tall person, but compared to her, you almost felt too big. And so gawky, too. Alice was the definition of grace, like a fantasic little fairy. Self-conscious, you quickly averted your gaze and focused instead on the display of food.

With a deep breath, you reached to pick up a tangerine when you suddenly felt a presence right next to you.

"Hello !" A cheerful voice greeted you, earning you a loud gasp and dropping the fruit in the meantime. But Alice caught it mid-air and chuckled. "A pixie tangerine ?"

She handed it to you, and you meekly took it. "It's rich in vitamins." You murmured, not meeting her eyes. Your blush darkened when she laughed again.

"I guess you do need a good substitute for the sun, huh ?" She smiled at you reassuringly. You chuckled nervously, though tension was slowly leaving your body.

"Yeah, that's for sure." You chuckked and observed her some more and felt her energy, which was so refreshing. She was like a ray of the sun herself.

From that day on, you two spent all your time together.

Alice took you shopping at incredibly expensive boutiques, and though you kept insisting on going to thrift shops, she never listened to you. Sometimes she even offered to pay for you, and every time it nearly gave you a heart attack. Alice was dragged to insane parties, ones you could only dream of intending, and you always wondered how someone so young could already have such an active life.

You have so many memories with her, finding joy in what always felt so mondane. The times she stood in between your legs to do your makeup, so close but always using the excuse of bad eye sight when you knew she could spot a sparrow hidden in its tree. But you weren't one to complain, especially when you had the opportunity to stare at her face without looking creepy.

You noticed how much she loved to sing, despite singing way more than was necessary. So, you drove her into town, and you two spent nights singing your hearts out. God, was she physical too ! Always hugging you, interlacing her arm with yours, caressing your hair and cheeks, and holding your hand. And despite how many times it happens, you always end up a blushing mess.

Her siblings didn't seem that enthusiastic about it all. But over time, you slowly made your way through their minds and gained their affection. Especially Edward's, and it saddened you to see him so lonely, even if you couldn't grasp the whole truth.

Your friends—no, actually, your whole class—were extremely curious about the Cullens, so you were their only source of information. But you cherished your relationship with her too much to share what you had with everyone.

Of course, you were catching feelings for her. How could you not? She was so lively, caring, interesting, and beautiful. And, in a way that made your chest swell with hope, you two never put a label on your relationship. Every time Alice introduced you to anyone, mostly her family, she never called you a 'friend'. No, something that made your heart miss a beat...

"Carlisle ! Here she is, the girl I've been telling you so much about !" Alice chirped and skipped toward her father while holding your hand. She dragged you in front of her, holding your shoulders. "My Y/N !" She smiled proudly.

You were so baffled by the very idea of meeting her parents, and your dear friend was really not helping. But the doctor didn't seem to mind and grinned.

"Hello, Y/N, it's nice to finally meet you and get your real name." He jocked, and you shot him a questioning look. "I just assumed 'angel' or 'little cutie wasn't your real name." He smirked but kept a caring expression.

You gasped loudly and turned absolutely crimson toward the black-haired. "No way, Alice!" You yelled and hid your face in your hands.

"Whaaat ? It's true!" She crooned at you lightheartedly, already walking away. You rushed after her and grabbed onto her worringly cold arm.

"That's not the problem, and you know it!" You mewled, embarrassed out of your mind.

You were so fond of that memory, hence why you were smiling like a moron. Catching feelings ? Yeah, right. You fell in love with her head first, which is what you did. But in spite of your heart, a feeling kept pulling at your gut, murmuring to you that something was off.

And it's true, you did notice some odd behaviors coming from her. Not too freaky, but still queer enough to catch your attention. Some days, where it was supposed to be a simple cloudy sky, Alice would be bringing you a large umbrella. So thanks to her, you were one of the few who stayed dry that day. Plus, she would tell you exactly what subject to study with uncanny precision. And how every time you had your period, she knew it before, even before yourself, and she was ready right away to pamper you into oblivion.

What about her impressive speed, her cold skin, her ever-changing eyes? But again, you were not used to a lot of things, so maybe it was just something she did.

You trusted her so much; surely if anything was truly wrong, you would have seen it coming, right ?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

One faithful day, well, one dumb day, you decided to follow Alice in her monthly walk through the forest. She never forbade you from coming; she just never mentioned it to you. How did you hear about it then? Well, you overheard your common teacher saying that even if the Cullens sometimes didn't come to school, they were still the best in the class.

You noticed it, of course, but hearing from someone else activated your curiosity, and you were dead set on finding out what the hell she was doing. Even if it sounded creepy, you wouldn't hide the fact that you had followed her a couple of times to the forest. But each and every damn time, you lost track of her! Always disappearing rapidly when you try your best to be as steathly as possible.

But you decided that today was going to be the day! And after agonizingly long hours of searching for her, holding your compass for dear life, you finally found her. But you sure didn't expect to find out that too...

The dense forest was illuminated by the soft glow of the spring sun. The rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl filled the air as you cautiously made your way through the trees, calling out for Alice. As you ventured deeper into the woods, you noticed a faint flicker of movement ahead. You approached slowly, your heart pounding with anticipation and concern. What you saw next froze you in your tracks.

In a small clearing bathed in moonlight, Alice kneeled beside a fallen deer, her lips stained crimson as she lean over its neck. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched the short-haired girl drink deeply from the wound. You stood there, frozen in the middle of the forest, staring at your friend covered in blood.

You whispered, eyes wide with shock. "Alice..?"

Alice's head snapped up, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light as she turned to face you. You gulped and took an instinctive step back. Blood drips from her chin as she rises to her feet, a mixture of hunger and guilt swirling in her gaze.

"Y/N... I... I can explain." Just wait a minute." She pleaded before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

You staggered backward when you understood she was trying to control herself. Your mind was reeling with disbelief and fear, and you had to force yourself to stay still. The scene unfolding before you was too much for you to comprehend. Too reel, too sudden, and so, so gruesome. Yet it felt so incredibly ridiculous and surreal.

"Are you..." You gulped loudly, trying to control your stammer. "You're... you're a vampire ?" Brows furrowed in disbelief at your own words. There was no way...

But, ultimately, Alice nodded slowly, her expression filled with anguish. She never saw you discovering a secret this way. But once again, you showed her how unpredictable you were. She had a general view of your future: meeting her, falling in love with her, and discovering her secret. But any details were robbed, and though it freaked her out, she still saw that in you, finding delight in the way you brought her something new. I like you, in a sense.

A broken cry passed your lips in utter dread, all colors leaving your face while your heart was ready to give. Your friend took a tentative step toward you, her hands outstretched in a gesture of supplication. You whimpered and moved slightly away, your eyes fixed on the blood coloring her lips.

Alice quickly noticed and pleaded once again, wiping the blood away with her sport cloth. "Please Y/N... I didn't want you to find out like this. I never wanted to hurt you."

You felt your fear begin to give way to a surge of conflicting emotions—disbelief, betrayal, and still that flicker of lingering affection. You took another step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you struggled to make sense of it all.

"But.... how long... what ?" You were babbling nonsense while your eyes were frantically looking anywhere but her. "Why didn't you tell me...?"

Alice lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her confession. She takes a deep breath, searching for your gaze once more, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I wanted to, but... well, I wasn't allowed to. I couldn't." She slowly got closer to you. "I was afraid of losing you... of scaring you away." Her puppy eyes felt different now, even if the red was softly fading away.

Silence hangs heavy between the two of you. You were grappling with the revelation, your mind racing with questions and doubts. Was that the reason she could never hang with you on those rare sunny days ? Why have you spent hours holding her hands in your own hands, trying to warm them up, to no avail? What about the most important thing ?

"Do you... well, do you plan to..." You couldn't finish your sentence; instead, you gestured loosely around your throat.

Alice was now a few feet away and shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "No, no, never." She brushed the hair out of your face. "Though, you do smell very good."

You didn't know if you were supposed to blush or laugh your heart out, so you did both. The tension was softly fading away, the shivers shaking your body with them, despite the coldness of Alice's skin.

"How old are you then...?" You wondered in a whisper.

She grinned and rocked back and forth on her toes. "How old do you give me ?"

You chuckled and shook your head. "That's unfair.." Alice's hand rested gently on your cheek, and you couldn't lean into it. "Not fifteen, that's for sure."

Her lighthearted laugh filled the forest. "Indeed not." You couldn't help but observe her sparkly eyes and adorable cheekbones. And Alice gave back your loving gaze, which was stronger with time. "Let's just say I've been nineteen for a long time."

Self-conscience came gnawing at you once again, and you looked down. "I must have seen quite a lot of amazing people along the way."

This time, she craddled your face in her hands, tilting your head back up. "Yeah, but the one I was looking forward to meeting the most was you." Though you couldn't understand how true it was, to reduce the red on your cheeks.

The sun was coming out from behind the clouds and through the branches, delicately caressing Alice's pale skin. A soft gasp escaped your lips when you saw her skin glimmering like thousands of diamonds. Amused and softened by your reaction, she leaned and whispered only a few inches from your lips.

"And you are adorable." She didn't give you enough time to dismiss her statement, as she swiftly leaned in and placed a little peck on your lips. Your brain shorted out so much that it didn't even register the slight taste of iron.

"We can take it as slow as you want... After all, who knows what the future holds ?" She jested in a hused tone, her eyes squinting and a tender smile curling along the sides of her lips.

You chuckled and nuzzled at her hands. "As long as you don’t eat, I think it'll be okay." She laughed once again and kissed the tip of your nose.

With your little sunshine by your side, whatever the future had in stock, you were sure it would be bright.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

#twilight #alice cullen x reader #alice cullen #reader insert #twilight saga #twilight x reader #twilight alice

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n0-eyedtaissa · 10 months

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thinking about how taissa’s best friend is clearly shauna, who’s best friend is jackie. it’s one of the subtle, more relatable cruelties shown on yellowjackets: the thin line between competition and alienation that comes with three-girl friendships. in every three-girl friendship, there are the two girls who walk side by side on the sidewalk, then there's the girl who's a few steps behind them. one’s always the leader, one’s the follower, one’s always the scapegoat. “jackie’s not gonna like it…” “well then we probably shouldn't tell her". shauna goes along with the plan, yet condems taissa as soon as the Allie Thing goes awry.

girl #3 defends #2 from the 'best friend' that overshadows her, but now that she's not the furthest in the shadows, girl #2 finally has someone to be cruel to. “i admire your resilience, tai. cant be easy knowing you fucking crippled someone today” when the traits that made jackie powerful at home aid in her resistance to the wilderness, shauna leans into the qualities that taissa has that are useful now but previously lead to the general understanding that she’s (to quote akilah here) “not THAT much of a bitch”: her directness, her decisiveness, the way she snaps to action and can take control.

girl #3 relishes in the power because she knows it’s slipping from girl #1. “thanks for having my back during the vote” “i didn’t have you back it was just what i thought…” taissa knows this. its what shauna thought herself, not what she mindlessly agreed to because of jackie’s influence. girl #2 and girl #3 bond over #1’s shortcomings. taissa and shauna get upset with jackie for not pitching in, for attempting to raid Dead Cabin Guy’s pantry for food and for how she recoils at shauna’s attempts to teach her how to butcher the deer.

when the girls have their seance, jackie wants to deny that they had any responsibility in conjuring the darkness: she called for it and shauna was the conduit, so she feels that guilt for the both of them and chooses to appease the darkness by not letting taissa be alone in the attic that night.

that moment jumpstarts the brewing rift between jackie and shauna, because it shows how shauna can and will choose somebody else over jackie. “what’re you doing?” “i was just gonna keep you company, if that’s okay…” it’s here when taissa revealed that she knew shauna was pregnant (because girl #3 is never in the spotlight so she pays extra close attention to those around her). when taissa finds out that not only is shauna pregnant, but she’s pregnant with her best friend’s boyfriend’s baby, she reserves her judgment because she knows that for shauna, that same fear of judgment is why she would rather die in the wilderness than tell jackie how and why she slept with her boyfriend.

when taissa figures out that shauna is trying to terminate her pregnancy (because katie lindstrom did it with the underwire of her bra last year), taissa tears through the woods trying to find her so that shauna wouldn't have to do something so risky by herself. “you’re not gonna do this alone, okay? i’m gonna help you, if you let me”. she realizes that she’s Not Jackie, she's not girl #1 with her power and her influence. she’s not who shauna would normally turn to...and that's the whole point.

girl #1 always panics when her second-in-command starts attracting more attention to herself: jackie can feel the space between herself and shauna growing larger and she knows that tai has been filling that space... the Best Friend space. but despite what shauna seems to think, jackie knows her too and can recognize the lies that even shauna herself believes. jackie knows that things aren't normal and nothing about what they're going through is remotely okay.

"i see you sneaking around and whispering with taissa, not to mention you acting all distant and weird for weeks." jackie isnt concerned with the fact that they survive a plane crash, or that she and her team are starving, all she's worried about is shauna. when jackie asks "when did you stop wanting me to be your best friend?", it seems like what she really means is 'when did you start wanting taissa as your best friend instead of me?'.

shauna may have started confiding in taissa more because she had a secret to keep from jackie and she needed anyone to be there for her...but from the very first episode (at least to ME), it's clear that taissa has been there for shauna before the plane crash, through her pregnancy, eighteen months in the wilderness, and even twenty-five years later. in no way am i insinuating that taissa's friendship with shauna is one-sided, either! shauna exhibits a very different kind of softness and affection with taissa than she ever was shown to do with jackie. it's very innocent, there's no envy, they have nothing to withhold from one another when they're hiding away in Dead Cabin Guy's attic.

shauna and taissa slept side by side up there, away from their team and the expectations that were unfairly placed on each of them and suddenly they both can breathe easier. they shared secrets and their fears and it brings them closer together, though it drives jackie and shauna further apart. with girl #1 further out of the picture, #'s 2 and 3 realize just how nice it feels to be understood. when taissa expresses the immense amount of guilt she feels about being the reason that van went on the ill-fated expedition, shauna reassures her that it's not her fault that van got hurt. that if taissa was too scared to sleep, shauna would stay awake. that she wouldn't let her go anywhere.

despite everything, though, taissa seems to understand that shauna would pick jackie over her any day. and she respects that, defends jackie's resistance to the wilderness and its offerings. when shauna (then mari and the rest of the team) start to gang up on jackie, taissa STILL defends her because she's girl #1...shauna's best friend. "c'mon jackie, don't go outside..." "don't pretend like this isn't what you wanted the entire fucking time." because jackie knows that taissa likes to win and isn't afraid to play dirty in order to get what she wants: the role of being shauna's New Best Friend.

once jackie is exiled from the cabin and shauna is watching her struggle from the window, it's STILL taissa who's saying "just go talk to her" ... just bring her inside, go and make up with her because she;s your best friend and you love her and i'll still be there for you. and taissa always is. in the morning when the find jackie, all alone and frozen in time, taissa's there to hold shauna as she cries and screams and curses the world and realizes her own capacity for cruelty. taissa's there for shauna. she's not letting go and she's not going anywhere.

#taissa turner i SEE you and i understand you!#taissa is for all of the girlies and swirlies who used to walk a few paces behind everyone else #from one girl number 3 to another #taissa turner #shauna shipman #jackie taylor #taissa x shauna #jackieshauna #yellowjackets analysis #yellowjackets #long post tw #i could give a whole tedtalk on the cruelty of three-girl friendships and their media portrayals for REALS (threatening)

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kissingghouls · 2 months

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Couple Skate (Mary Goore x f!Reader)

Summary: Another date with Mary has them trying something for the first and leads the two of you into uncharted territory (aka your bedroom.) (3200 words)

TAGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI, FLUFF, SMUT, slight character injury but nothing serious, he/they Mary.

[This goes along with the other More Goore '24 stories or can be read alone. Choose your own adventure, it's what Mary would want. Or read on AO3.]

“Does that feel good?” you ask, eyes wide as you look up from between Mary’s legs. For a moment all they do is blink at you, but then a sly grin creeps across their face followed by a low chuckle. They cock their head to the side, pulling their lip between their teeth as they adjust in their seat.

“You have no idea, do you darlin’?”

“Wha?” you ask, still staring at him. It was a perfectly normal thing to ask, especially since Mary had never done this before. You still weren’t sure exactly how this whole thing even happened, but it was bound to be an experience for both of you.

It wasn’t until you heard harsh whispers and tsking from several feet away that it dawned on you what he meant.

“The skates you perv!” you huff, giving them a quick slap on the thigh. You’d spent the last few minutes with your knees on a grubby carpet trying to help Mary tighten the laces on a pair of rented ice skates. A couple of uppity moms had covered their kids’ eyes at the sight of the two of you, like you were really planning on sucking his dick in public like that. But you couldn’t care less what those moms thought if it meant Mary wasn’t going to get hurt on your watch. You give the laces another tug before asking again if they felt ok.

“I dunno,” they reply, stretching a skinny leg out past you. They twist their ankle around, flexing their foot against the boot. “Am I supposed to be able to feel my feet?”

“Normally yes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if all your blood rushed somewhere else.”

Mary gives you an easy shrug and leans forward. “Do you really want me to apologize for thinking you’re hot?”

“I want to know if the skates feel ok,” you respond flatly.

“They feel like boots with knives on the bottom, so…metal as fuck?”

“You are so lucky you’re cute, Goore.”

“Pretty sure you’re the cute one, sweetheart.”

You smile softly and climb into the seat next to them. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Darlin.” He places a hand under your chin, angling your face toward his. “We can’t just keep going to the bar.”

“Why not?”

Mary looks down, finding a particularly interesting thread on the ripped knee of his jeans. “I don’t…I don’t want you to get bored with me.”

“Goore, you’re like the furthest thing from boring I could imagine.”

“But like…in a good way, right?” they ask cautiously.

“Would I be hanging out with you if it wasn’t in a good way?”

“Hmm,” he hums pretending to think. “I don’t know. You’ve dated some questionable people in the past.”

“Oh and you haven’t?” you challenge, leaning over to pinch their side.

“What can I say?” they ask with a laugh. “I was a fool until now.”

“I’m gonna leave your ass here,” you grumble.

“No, you won’t. You like me too much.”

“You’re ok, I guess. Pretty good at building a fort.”

“You want me to make you another? A two bedroom, two bath dream house— “

“I want you to do what you want to do.”

“Hey,” he says softly. “I am doing what I want to do. You think I would be in a place like this if I didn’t want to be here with you?”

You look up, taking in the scene around you. Obnoxious, loud pop music blasts overhead—a song neither one of you know—while the happy shouts of children and other couples cut through the sound of blades scraping across the ice. It’s a wholesome swirl of rosy cheeks, colorful fabric, and bright lights; a pleasant little afternoon of family fun with you and Mary looking completely out of place like a couple of ghostly apparitions.

“Honestly? I’m not sure how we ended up here in the first place,” you admit. “But no, I don’t think you make a habit of doing anything you don’t want to.”

“Exactly! Now, help me broaden my horizons or whatever other motivational shit people say. Teach me to skate!”

“I’ll try my best, Goore. What are you going to teach me after this?” you ask as you help them to their feet.

“I’m sure I could think of a couple things,” he replies lowly, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes.

Helping Mary to their feet is one thing but getting them to the ice is far more complicated. They’d never skated in their life and they’d clearly never walked in skates before. You try your best to correct the stiff and rigid movements that made them look about as graceful as Frankenstein’s Monster, but there was only so much you could do until they felt comfortable enough.

It isn’t any easier on the ice, but at least there’s a wall to help keep him upright.

Still, you’re impressed by the fact that Mary is willing trying something new at all, just because it was something you thought was fun. Most of the people you dated weren’t as interested in anything you cared about and they certainly going to try it. But Mary’s different in more ways than you can count, so much so that it keeps you awake some nights. You’ve worried yourself sick thinking about how you might like them too much, but there’s no one else you’d rather be sharing these things with.

He flinches as a tiny kid whizzes past, his hold on your hand tightening even more. He is a giant ball of nerves wrapped in leather and spikes, all sweaty palms and calloused fingers locked in a death grip as you slowly pull him around the rink. You’re sure it’s an entertaining sight to see, something like an eldritch terror helping a zombified baby deer in corpse paint waddle across a frozen pond. But right now, no one else matters. It’s just you and Mary on the ice.

After a couple of laps they start to get the hang of it, remembering to bend their knees to keep their balance. They smile brightly at you as they make a full pass without wobbling.

“Darlin’, look!” Mary shouts excitedly. They start to push off, slowly picking up speed as the blades slide over the ice. The first little stumble fills their face with panic, but they quickly recover and gain enough confidence to skate a little ahead of you. “Look! I did it!”

You trail behind them, watching in wonder as your spooky, metalhead boyfriend continues skating on his own…

…for about 30 seconds before he hits a bad patch in the ice and completely wipes out. He drops like a stone, limbs going everywhere as his body lands hard. The momentum he’d built up keeps him sliding across the ice until he comes to rest with a solid thud against the wall.

“Mary!” you shout and take off. You hate how scared you sound, heart pounding hard as you wonder if he’s hurt or worse. You skate hard, nearly taking out a hoard of laughing children in your rush to reach him. As you approach, Mary lets out a loud groan and rolls onto their back, staring up at you.

“Darlin’, there are much easier ways to get me on my back,” he groans, wincing as he shifts. “Less painful ones too, unless that’s what you’re into.”

You shake your head and kneel next to him, quickly swiping at the tears forming in your eyes. “Mary, are you ok?”

“I think I broke my ass,” he informs you through gritted teeth. “Is it ok if I don’t wanna do this anymore?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” you agree with a nod.

As a single tear slides down your cheek, Mary cracks a cocky smile. He reaches up, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “You worried about me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, idiot!”

“Told you. You like me too much.”

“Yeah, I do. Now, let’s get you off the ice, ok?”

Mary sticks their arms in the air, waving their hands wildly. “Drag me around like a corpse, baby!”

You lean down to kiss him instead, unbothered by the ice now soaking cold, wet splotches into your jeans.

He hums, grinning back at you as you pulled away. “I gotta fall down in front of you more often.”

“Please don’t. Pretty sure my heart stopped.”

Slowly he presses a cold hand to your chest, fingertips searching out the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. His touch only elevates things, your heart now kicking like bpm of Mary’s songs. Your eyes close as he shifts to his knees and brings a hand to your neck to feel your pulse, counting along in his head. He didn’t know fuck all about math or blood pressure, but he knows now that he made your heart race.

It wasn’t not the first time Mary kisses you like that—a soft, slow press of their lips to yours that meant more than either of you were willing to say. But it is the first time either of you had attempted to do so on ice. You shiver—from the cold or Mary’s touch you weren’t sure, but you knew you needed to get out of there fast.

“Mm, Mary?” you ask, lips still brushing his. “My place?”

“Fuck yeah,” they agree with a nod.

-x-

The front door slams into the wall and bounces back as you and Mary spill through. There’s probably a mark you will have to pay for later, but for now the two of you are too busy stumbling over each other’s feet to be concerned. He kicks the door shut and tries to shake off his jacket without moving away from you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You’re so focused on trying to undo at least one of his belts that it doesn’t even phase you when you catch the corner of the coffee table with your leg.

The jacket hits the floor with a soft thump. Mary’s hands move to your face, pulling you closer and closer as he licks into your mouth. A belt follows, free falling from around Mary’s hips because the stupid thing wasn’t functional—it was just in your way. Your jacket is next, worked away from your shoulders by his impatient hands. You find success with the other belt and manage to get his shirt over his head while he pulls at yours. Clothes and boots litter the hallway like breadcrumbs—a trail that leads straight to your dimly lit bedroom.

You land on the bed and pull Mary on top of you, legs tangling as you fight to slot your mouths back together. It’s a frenzied mess of hands and lips and tongues and teeth on skin that feels feverish, so hot you think you might combust. But you don’t want to stop, you can’t stop—not when his chest heaves like that.

“Fuck,” they groan, low and loud as they move to kiss your neck. They know that space below your ear drives you fucking crazy and they waste no time leaving an angry mark on your throat before moving down to mouth along your collarbone.

You draw a finger over the lines and obscure symbols etched into their arms. Up their biceps and across their shoulder where the ink spills onto their chest and disappears into the soft patch of light hair. You imagine Mary in their little bathroom with a shitty box dye and—Satan help you—you only want them more.

His breath hitches as your hands travel down their ribs, fingertips itching to touch the rest of him. He kisses you hard, almost desperate, but his own hands remain at an infuriatingly polite distance. A simple “please, Mary” whispered against his lips is all it takes to get Mary’s hands everywhere, those calloused fingers tracing over your tits. He’s rough in a way that feels perfect, pinching one nipple while biting the other to make you whine for him.

“C’mere,” he hums, urging your leg around his hip. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed tight as you brush against his length. “Fuck, darlin’.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the idea,” you tease and grind against them for emphasis.

“You’re trouble,” Mary quips, shaking their head. He moves to kiss your neck, trailing up to your ear to whisper, “ask me again.”

The words go straight to your center and Mary doesn’t miss the way you tremble against him. “Please, Mary,” you repeat softly. “Please touch me.”

When you see that devilish grin you know you’re probably going to regret giving him that kind of power, but as his hand slips between your legs, you stop caring about anything that isn’t the way Mary feels. His hand dips into your panties, fingers curving up to press against your entrance. Slowly, he pumps them in and out, carefully memorizing whatever actions pull the most sounds from you as he works you open. It’s all you can do to even the score and as you palm him over his boxers, the sound he makes has you feeling victorious already.

He withdraws his fingers and pushes his boxers down to coat his thick length with your slick. You never really had a chance at winning this game against him, but you’re happy to keep playing if it means getting fucked by Mary Goore.

“You’re so fucking good for me, darlin’,” he purrs, stroking his cock as he looks at you. He edges backward, trailing kisses over your stomach and inner thighs as he makes his way down. He moans loudly as he tastes you for the first time. The sound and the feeling has your thighs trying to press together, but Mary holds you in place as he draws his tongue over your swollen clit.

Your hands find his hair and he moans again as you tug roughly at the soft strands. His fingers push into your entrance, working at the same rhythm as his mouth. It’s too much and not enough, but fuck he feels too good. You barely manage the words before your hips raise to meet his touch. All you can do is let it wash over you, crying out his name as the world crashes down in the best way. He watches you shake, giving you just enough time to form a coherent thought before his mouth is on yours, the taste of yourself still on his tongue.

“Fuck, Mary,” you mutter against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice low as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. “You want me to fuck you?”

It’s so hot you want to strangle them, but you’re not about to fuck this up so you bite your lip and nod instead. It’s all the confirmation Mary needs. He captures you in a bruising kiss and swallows your moans as he guides himself to your entrance. His cock is so thick the stretch of him has you keening and clawing at his arms until he’s finally fully seated inside you. He stills himself, letting you get used to the feeling, but you kind of hope you never do. There’s soft kisses and words while they’re checking in with you, making sure you’re ok before they start to slowly pull out. A quick snap of his hips has you begging for more and that cocky smile of his returns. The whole thing is so unbelievably Mary that you really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s as skilled with his cock as he is with his hands or his mouth. But you’re more than happy to find out this way.

You’re just as surprised when Mary pushes your knees apart and hits an angle that nearly sends you over the edge way too quickly. It doesn’t stop him from trying again and again and again with that fucking grin on his face as you try desperately not to wake up everyone in the building. He pins your wrists to the bed and pounds into you a little harder each time you moan for him with your lip between your teeth, trying so hard to stay quiet.

With a few more thrusts of his hips and some filthy words, you’re coming undone beneath him, too fucked out on Mary Goore to know which way is up. It hits you hard, another white-hot wave sparking through your entire body and the only thing you can do is hold onto him as you ride it out. He groans as you tense around him, waiting for you to stop shaking before teasingly asking if you’re ok. Instead of replying you raise your hips, using your leverage to push Mary onto their back. You lock eyes with him as you lower yourself onto his length, mouth falling open as he fills you again. Before they can make some smartass remark, you move your hips, finding a pace that has both of your eyes rolling back. It’s all too much as Mary fucks you harder, his fingers working at your sensitive clit while asking you—begging you—to come for him again. It doesn’t take much, not with the way he asks and the way he thrusts into you like he already knows exactly how to fuck you. The third orgasm hits even harder, tears slipping from your eyes as overstimulation sets in.

“Oh fuck, darlin’, I’m gonna cum,” he warns as his grip tightens, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He tips you onto your back, groaning as he slowly pulls out. He pumps his cock in his fist, eyes locked with yours as he spills across your stomach and marks you once more.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he confesses, blissed-out and breathless as he looks at you covered in sweat, cum, and those little marks he’d sucked into your skin.

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” he says with a grin, biting his lip. “Might even be a little bit obsessed with you, darlin’…but in a like… not totally creepy way.”

“Mary Goore? Not creepy?”

He laughs. “Well…ok I’m not going to try to wear your skin, sweetheart. But I think about you an absolutely unhealthy amount.”

“Your post-orgasm honesty is fucking adorable, Goore,” you admit with a smile.

“Ah, well, I guess we will have to keep talking like this.”

“I guess we will.”

Mary sighs and rest on his side, hair softly falling over his eyes. He gives you a shy smile you don’t often see from him, before burying his face in the pillow.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”

“C’mon Goore. Tell me.”

“I’m just…” They pause to cringe. “I’m just, ugh I dunno…happy?”

You snort out a laugh. “Well, I would hope so.”

“No, like, not… I mean, yes, happy about that but like…this. You and me.”

“Me and you, huh? Is this your way of asking if I want to be an ‘us?’”

“Kinda thought we were?”

“Yes, but now we’ve said it. That’s like…official official.”

“Officially us, then?” Mary asks and reaches over to tap your nose. “Is that cool with you?”

“Very much.”

He grins brightly. “Well, if that’s settled. Think you can walk ok? Or should I carry you to the shower?”

#my fics #my writing #More Goore '24 #mary goore x reader #mary goore smut #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fic #x reader #reader insert #mdni #repugnant fanfiction #mary goore

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shhh-secret-time · 22 days

Note

hello ^^, i saw your secret soulmate au about craig, i don't have the words to explain how much i giggled, twirled my hair and everything XD! well, when you have the time, could you do a craig x clyde x reader smut? of course, if you feel comfortable with it! reader can be female or gn. it's practically normal smut but just craig fucking the reader from behind and clyde from the front, so that's it! tysm for reading, i love your writing too! <33 -✨️ Anon (I'm still new to tumblr so i might get confused on some things sometimes!)

Completely understandable, I too am confused with how tumblr works and I've been on this godless site since fucking Dash Con. I'm glad you liked the way I wrote those dorks! And thank you for fueling my Clyde agenda!

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Sub/Dom dynamics, blow jobs, orgasm denial, threesome

Pairing: Clyde x Fem!Reader x Craig

The sweet air of the votives swirls around the empty church. Empty except for the dim orange and red light that illuminates the book in the man's hand.

A woman at his feet, clothed in fine silks. A mix of reds and whites that twine together. Beautiful patterns of stars flow across the dress.

She dips her head in prayer alongside the man. The father of the church glides his fingers across her cheek as her mouth closes. Reciting scriptures of one's devotion for an unseen God. Everything in that moment was peaceful.

The warmth in the Father's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, the greens darken with a desire that he knows better than to have. It's difficult to hide the growing ache in his pants. More so when the woman's lips curl into a mischief smile, the warm glow of the candles makes them shine with an otherworldly glow. She looks up at him and her eyes fall deep into those pools of lust. Her hands break apart from that folded prayer and onto his black dress pants. They card up further against his thighs where they settle and clutch the material.

"Father, bless me...", a whisper that makes the Father groan.

Temptation never looked so sweet. This woman made his chest pound. Unholy thoughts flood his mind and go straight to his-

You let out a loud groan. Your forehead drops and hits the table beside your keyboard. The forgotten mug with now cold tea rattles.

Writer’s block, the very bane of any author’s existence. It's been haunting you for weeks now, making it impossible to get anything done. You've been stuck on this part of your romance novel the entire time. A part you were so excited to get to!

The buildup was perfect! You had calculated, plotted, and carefully crafted a budding romance between a witch and a holy man. A forbidden romance that took place within the walls of the church, the furthest outside the walls it went were the gardens that surrounded the area. The two fell in love after he saved her from the townsfolk claiming sanctuary.

Inspiration struck you like lightning after you fell in love with your partners. After publishing a sci-fi series, that honestly changed the name of how science fiction would be written forever, you met two fans at a book signing event. You had made a surprise appearance at a local library in some little town called South Park. Coming from the big city yourself, it was a huge surprise that anyone in the little town would actually be a fan of yours.

Apparently, you had quite a few. A man with bright red hair who had a black-haired man following alongside him. Both gushed about how the story inspired some kind of board game they played with their friends. A sweet blond woman who had the cutest southern accent you've ever heard. She gave you a piece of fan mail that had the most adorable sticker on it. Another black-haired man who dressed as Spock for some reason. He went on for a solid thirty minutes about a fanfic he wrote regarding the main character of your book and Star Trek's very own Captain Kirk.

Finally came the oddest duo you had ever met. The two were like day and night, a cat and a dog, fire and ice; the whole nine yards. A bright smile with baby brown eyes on one, and an ice-cold deadpan look with amber eyes to match on the other. At first you thought the brown-haired one was your fan and the man with the blue hat was just along for the ride.

"Haha! No way! I'm not into that..." He paused as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't, "...kinda stuff."

"That kind of stuff?" You repeat back at him, raising a brow.

"He means reading. He doesn't know how." The other spoke putting a hand on top of his head. With a little push he forced the brown-haired man's head down.

You giggled at that. The protests coming from the poor man was comical. You almost felt sorry for him, watching him struggle to move the taller man's hand off.

"Then I take it I'm signing this book out to you?" With a click of your pen, you look up at him.

The NASA jacket on the bright blue sleeves of his jacket should have given it away honestly. There's was a small tinge of a blush on his tan cheeks, almost hidden under the skin tone but you were able to make it out under the light. He looked away for a moment before nodding at you.

"Yeah."

"Name?"

"His name is Craig! He's a huge fan of yours by the way! So, if you could write something sweet for him that'd be awesome!" His friend chirped at you as he broke free from Craig's grip.

Craig's face twisted, those piercing eyes of his narrowed down. Before he could reach and grab him, the brown-haired man slid behind your chair. Putting his hand on your chair, he bent down to your level and tapped the blank white page.

"As you can see my big guy has a baaaaaad case of resting bitch face."

"Clyde..." the warning that slipped out of Craig's mouth made a shiver roll down your spine. It was even directed at you, and you felt threatened.

"So, you gotta imagine my surprise when he came home smiling! I was shocked! He didn't even smile when we started going out!" Clyde ignored him, an attest to his bravery. Or foolishness. Either way he continued, leaning down next to your ear. "Your book made him so happy, so it makes me happy. Think you could do that for me? Because he'll never ask you to do it for him."

You look up at him for a while, not even bothered that he had gotten closer to your face as he spoke. The browns in his eyes flickered with mischief but there were layers of love behind them. Chocolate that seemed to melt into tiny hearts when he spoke about Craig. It was honestly sweet, even if he was trying to tease his partner.

"How can I say no to that? I'd love to." You smiled at him and began writing on the empty page.

Yeah, who would have thought that fate would tie you to those two like that. Falling in love with Craig and Clyde was nothing like what they wrote in books or movies. It was a tornado of events that landed you in the eye of it all.

Despite their polar opposite personalities and looks, the two worked off each other well. Then when you got thrown in the middle, you filled in a little spot they desperately needed.

Clyde was social enough for the three of you. He was the one who reminded you and Craig that you needed to get out of the house. When you lock yourself away in your office, he would drag you out with a fun date idea. Movie nights, football games, arcade dates, and his favorite late-night walks. Doing the same to Craig who always seemed buried in work.

Craig gave off such scary dog privilege that you and Clyde never felt threatened. You could take those late-night walks with Clyde because you knew nothing would touch you with Craig following close behind.

That was nice sure, but under that scary looking shell was a soft teddy bear of a man. While he wasn't vocal with affection like Clyde, he was observant. Craig remembered everything, everything about you and Clyde's interests. If he saw something you mentioned in passing it was yours. Clyde needed new shoelaces because the ones on his favorite pair of red shoes were tearing? There was a new pack waiting for him on the table. You complained about the shift key on your keyboard sticking too much? An adorable keyboard that looked like a typewriter was found on your desk the next morning.

Then there was you. You have no idea how these two survived this long without you. Truth be told they don't either. Craig and Clyde couldn't cook to save their lives. Their diet consisted of diner food and Chinese takeout. While their house was clean enough, laundry was never put away or folded. Clyde was horrible at putting his dirty laundry in the bin and Craig was too tired most nights to even make it to bed. The final straw was when you took a shower, and their only soap was 3 in 1.

Absolutely not.

So, when you moved in things changed. When Craig was at work, you would take Clyde grocery shopping. Slowly you started him on simple dishes, working with him until he was comfortable in the kitchen. What was surprising was that he took to it quickly. He was a natural and before you knew it, he was cooking things you had never heard of. He had gone as far as looking up Peruvian dishes, practicing with spices and techniques that had your mouth watering. When you asked how he learned to do all of this, he gave you the biggest grin and told you it was YouTube.

When Craig came home that night to Chupe de Camarones it was the closest to crying you've ever seen from him.

Clyde really stepped up after that, feeling a sense of pride in taking care of you two. Seeing as you worked just as hard as Craig did. Clyde proclaimed something about being more than happy to be a malewife.

In return Craig started taking better care of himself, actually starting to care about his health. He stopped staying up so late and made use of the giant bed. Clean sheets and blankets that felt good on his skin. Even better that you and Clyde would be in it waiting for him. Clyde long passed out on your chest, a bit of drool sliding down the side of his face and onto your shirt. Not that you seemed to care as you just continued to read next to the little bedside lamp. Only pausing when you felt Craig's presence in the doorway.

Craig's smiles were rare, little treats from the universe to you. Ones like these where he smiles with love in his eyes. Where he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers, crawling into bed next to you. Arms wrapping around Clyde and with a hand settling on your hips. A silent squeeze lets you know it's time to put the book down and join him.

How can you say no to a smile like that?

Of course, not every day was perfect. Your relationship took time to hash out. It was different being with two individuals at the same time, but you made it work. The three of you were committed to one another.

Now if only you could commit to this fucking scene.

Your head’s little meet and greet with the table must have been louder than you thought because whatever Clyde was yelling about in the living room stopped. It was one of the rare weekends where Craig was home and off work. Choosing to spend it watching some show with Clyde, listening to the man ramble on about something.

So wrapped up in your thoughts, you let out a scream when you finally lift your head and Clyde is right there beside you. His body bent over just like the day you met him. With his hand on the back of your chair and his face next to yours. Except instead of using, you as a shield from Craig, he's reading your computer screen.

While he doesn't understand what it takes to be an author, he sees the effect it has on you. Days like this where you take on the posture of a shrimp, forgetting to come out to eat.

His lips start pursed, but as he continues to scan over the screen they break out into a smirk. He covers his mouth in a fake surprise, a gasp with widened eyes.

"Babe! This is...scandalous! Spicy, naughty even! What are you doing writing something like this?" His dramatic act continues, forming some feign surprise.

"What are you doing using words with more than one syllable?" You shoot back with a little smirk.

It takes everything in your power not to laugh at the actual pout on his face. Try as you might, the giggles escape your lips, and it makes him smirk. He leans down and nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me babe! I'm getting smarterer with you around!" You know he said that word wrong on purpose, just to get under your skin.

But he kisses you quiet before you can say anything. Holds your face in his hands so you can't pull away. You can taste the cherry chapstick on his lips, and the growing smile along with it.

"So, what's got you bashing your head into your desk baby? Craig and I heard a thump and got worried." He moves the kisses towards your forehead.

"Was it that loud?"

"Heard it over the tv." Craig's voice almost makes you leap out of your skin.

You bite your lip, looking down at the keyboard with a distant stare. The faded green and blue, spots where your fingers had smudged away the paint from typing so much.

"I'm just having trouble with this scene. I've been stuck on it for weeks now." You exhale softly.

Craig raises a brow and leans down on the other side of you. Both Clyde and Craig bent over to take a look at your screen. You're not sure why the fact both men reading your unfinished work makes you feel nervous, but it does. Or maybe it's the fact this is your first time writing a spicy scene like this.

"It's good. Never would have thought you'd go the Priest kink route." Craig says it so matter of fact, there's never hesitation in his voice. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him flustered, and even then, his tone is flat.

"I-I’m not into it! I just- you guys are only reading a snippet of my book! There's been a romance blossoming between the two the whole time!" You try to defend yourself, but it only makes Clyde's lips tug into a smirk.

The temptation to tease you was too great, it was being handed to him on a silver platter. Clyde leans up and walks next to Craig, leaning into his chest. The man wraps his arms around himself and lets out a dramatic sigh.

"A forbidden love! A tale as old as time! But what I wanna know babe-" Clyde stops and lets the tension build. It makes you glare at him as you turn in your office chair. "-is why the witch's descriptions are reaaaally close to mine."

"That's a woman Clyde! She's got short brown hair because it was cut off when she was running from the townsfolk! Brown eyes are common and beautiful! There's not enough representation for them!"

"Aaaaaand her dimples?" He points to his, the little spots in his cheeks that sink in when he smiles. "Plus, my eyes are totally beautiful."

"It's not you!"

"Oh, and the Father isn't Craig. Tan skin, black hair? You gave the Father green eyes but other than that, it fits Craig to a T." Craig actually nods along with what Clyde is saying. He's got his eyes closed as if this is some kind of philosophical debate.

"Are you serious right now Clyde?! This is why you two aren't allowed in my study!" Your face was burning now, hot and flushed from his teasing.

"What did I do?" Craig breaks the little fight with a simple question.

"Nodding your head along! You know what he's doing and you're encouraging it!"

"So, you took inspiration from your partners in your romance story. It's cute." He responds with a shrug. He looks down at Clyde who's still smugly leaning against his chest.

Your mouth falls open, you go to respond but nothing makes its way out. Your brows furrow. Arms crossed under your chest in a pout.

Had you unintentionally based your characters off your partners? Is that why the romance novel was easy to write up until this point?

Whatever the case may be here, you didn't like being called out. So, you do what you always do when they get like this, you turn in your chair and ignore them.

Usually this works, let's them know that you're not in the mood for their games. That you'd rather be left alone than entertain another minute of their shenanigans. But this time Clyde wasn't going to let you go. He grabs the back of your seat and wheels you back towards him and Craig.

"Baaaaabe don't pout. Look I'm sorry~." No, he's not. "But hey I've got an idea."

You let out a little huff, enough to where he knows you're not actually mad at him. If you were you would have picked your chair up and walked it back to your desk. Instead, you sit there and wait for him to continue.

"You're stuck on that scene, but I think you need a break. Sitting here and bashing your head against the table isn't going to fix that. Soooo..." He trails off, moving to stand in front of you.

His fingers glide across the side of your face, cupping your cheek so gently. Clyde guides your face up to look at him, behind that cocky smile of his he's got such love for you in his eyes. The way his thumb brushes across your cheek, making your heart flutter so slightly.

"What do you say Craig and I help you out a little babe?" Clyde guides your face up towards him. He presses his thumb against your lips just as his voice dips into that playful whisper.

You raise a brow at him in response. It's not until Craig puts his hand on your shoulders, that you piece together this wasn't just his idea. Thumbs pressed into your muscles working out the knots and tension. For such a hard worker, somehow Craig's hands always stay so soft. The worn-out oversized t-shirt you stole does little against his hands. The material is thin from how often it's been washed and worn.

His hands pull a soft moan from you, it feels too good to keep yourself silent. Clyde pushes his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, the digit presses down on your soft pink tongue. He all but purrs when watches you wrap your lips around it.

"See...let's work out some of that tension. We'll make you feel real good and give you a little inspiration." Clyde hums as he pulls his thumb out, smearing the saliva across your lips.

When he doesn't continue, you realize he's waiting for your confirmation. Waiting for you to agree to their little plan. But that doesn't stop Craig from bending down and placing a kiss on your cheek. He trails the kisses down to your jawline, using his nose to nudge your head to the side. Lulling your head to the side, you gave into the feeling. Craig's lips move to capture the exposed skin. You can feel just how eager he is from the way the kisses turn to nips then to full on bites. His teeth sinking into the soft parts of your flesh pulling another sharp gasp from you.

"Come on honey. Let us take care of you." After he's done leaving small love bites on your neck, Craig moves to your ear nipping the shell.

"Y-yeah that sounds...that sounds good." You move your hands up towards Craig, running your fingers through his hair. One of the rare moments he's not sporting his blue hat. "I could use a little break..."

"That's our girl." Clyde's praise goes straight to your core. He lifts you up from your office chair, hands cupping the back of your thighs for support. They give your thighs a little squeeze, digging his fingertips into your flesh.

Craig moves out of his way and goes to push your office chair back towards your desk. Clyde chuckles softly seeing the confused look on your face. Instead of protesting you wrap your arms around the brunette lazily throwing your arms around his neck.

"We're supposed to be relaxing, we're gonna get nice and comfy on the couch." He drops you down on the couch, making you bounce a bit. He laughs when you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You ass." Your grumbles fall on deaf ears. Clyde just runs his fingers through your hair and gives it a harsh tug. It makes you cry out, craning your neck up towards him.

"Sweetheart, that's not very nice. You're being a brat right now." He tuts, feigning disappointment.

"You dropped me on the-" You suck in another cry when he tugs your head to the side, that firm grip on your roots sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hm? You were saying something? I did what?"

Clyde's smug little smirk made your blood boil. But his fingers in your hair felt too good to protest further. Especially when he switched between tugging and massaging his fingertips into your scalp. You watched his eyes flicker from yours to behind you. Before you could turn around to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, Craig's hands slid down your back.

Gently, much more than Clyde, he pushes you down towards Clyde. His other hand comes down to grab your ankle, pulling your leg back towards him. Once your knee is tucked against the couch, he does the same to the other leg.

If your face wasn't burning up before it certainly is now. Just as you go to hold yourself up with your hands, Clyde removes his hand from your hair and takes you by the wrist. Guiding you up towards him, he places them on the hems of his sweatpants. The grey university sweatpants do little to hide his hardening cock, you watch it twitch against the fabric.

"This is about where you left off right? She was about to take the Father's cock out of his pants?" Clyde says watching as you slowly pull his sweatpants down. He lets out a low chuckle that turns into a moan when you slip your fingers around his cock. "That's it, now keep your eyes on me baby."

There's a moment of hesitation as you bring the tip closer to your mouth. The bright red tip glides across your plump lips begging for you to open. His hand returns to your hair, smoothing down your locks from his earlier manhandling.

The gentle touch makes you look up towards him, just like he requested. There really was something so intimate about those chocolate brown eyes of his. Past that smirk and layers of darkened lust, there was devotion. The feeling of your hands on him alone made him weak in the knees. You put that to the test, pressing just a little kiss on the tip. Dabbing your tongue against his leaking member. Just from that alone he's letting out the prettiest moans.

"Sh-shit, c’mon don't tease me." That cocky attitude of his melts. You almost laugh at how easy it is to break him down. He was puddy in your hands.

With a little hum you move your hand up and down his shaft, creating enough friction to make him buck his hips towards you. He nudges his cock further into your mouth, pushing past your lips. The underside of his cock glides down against your tongue, smearing the pre-cum along with it.

So caught up in your little game, you almost forgot about Craig behind you. Almost. It's hard to forget him when he's got his hands all over you. Large palms cupping any exposed skin. Craig takes his time exploring every curve he can get ahold of. His nose nuzzled into the back of your head. His breath tickling the shell of your ear. Just the sight of your mouth around Clyde's member alone is enough to make him growl.

Neither men are patient when it comes to you. Craig shoves whatever is left of your pajamas down and off you, he doesn't bother with your shirt as it'll pull you away from your lover. Instead, he decides it'll make the perfect handle. He bunches it up until it collects at the collar. His hands grip the shirt and tug it backwards, making your hips rock back into him.

Somewhere along the way he stripped away his pants. The barrier between the both of you was the thin material of your underwear and his dark blue boxers. While Craig wasn't as vocal as Clyde was, with his teasing and little whimpers, he could be just as unfair if not more.

Grinding against your cunt slowly, grabbing and groping at your ass the entire time. He digs his nails into your skin, leaving little crescent moons. Craig rewards good behavior not with sweet words, but by giving you what you so desperately want.

He waits until you've got all of Clyde's cock in your mouth before he finally shoves your underwear down. It makes it to your knees before he just decides to leave them there. Too many times he got impatient and just ripped them off, and too many times you scolded him for it.

The hand in your hair pulls you back from his cock. Clyde moves your head back just enough to where only the tip remains, then slowly he brings you back down. Pushing you all the way down his length until your nose hits his stomach. You watch as his muscles flex under his skin like he's trying to resist letting his head lull back. He needs so badly to keep his eyes on yours, loving the attention you're giving him.

"Your mouth feels so good." He whines when he reaches the back of your throat. You gag around him, and it pulls another whimper from him.

Your hand slides down his thighs, using it to hold you up. The other hand is still being held by Clyde's grip. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding it up near his shoulder. Craig waits until Clyde rocks you back again, using the momentum to slip inside your wet folds. A pleased hum rumbles from his chest. You can feel it from how he's pressing his entire body against yours.

Just as slowly as Clyde moves your head, Craig pushes further into your cunt. The two find a slow and steady rhythm with one another. When Craig snaps his hips against you, it pushes Clyde's cock further down your throat. Your moans vibrating around him causing him to moan loudly in return. Clyde's whimpers and whines get louder when you dig your nails into his thighs. In return the grip on your hair is tightened. Creating this delicious cycle of pleasure.

"Baby, please. I wanna fuck your throat. You gonna let me? I need it so bad, please." Clyde's begging spurs something in you. Gives you the feeling of control even if you’re physically stuck between the two. From the beads of sweat that trail down his body and the way his body is shaking, you know he's at his limit.

You're able to pull back just enough, his cock springs up with a little bounce. Craig slows down just enough to let you talk, but you can tell he's not happy about it. The way his grip on your shirt tightens, you're sure he'll rip it soon.

"If I snap my fingers, you stop, okay?" You say giving him the okay. He caresses your face and presses a kiss onto your face, letting you know he understands the boundaries you've set.

At first, he's careful when he pushes his cock back into your mouth. You reward him with a swirl of your tongue, rubbing against the veins that are popping out.

"He's so needy." Craig huffs as he leans back up. The assault on your neck stops, but he's left it covered in bright red and purple marks. No amount of makeup will cover up what he's done.

You don't need to see him to know that he's smirking at it. Taking pride in the fact that he's marked you up. Or the pride making Clyde blush from his comment. Craig's hips snap back into you, the force much sharper than his previous lazy thrusts. They're calculated, each time he pushes deep inside you he hits that spot that has you seeing stars. Clyde's hips take up the same pace, shoving his cock into the back of your throat.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. Moans turn to muffled cries, yet everything feels too good to stop. They're rough paced fucking brings your mind to a haze. All you can focus on is feeling good and making them feel good.

Craig's close, you can tell from the way he starts to lose rhythm. He's having a harder time controlling those grunts and growls. A hard time not leaving bruises on your skin from how rough he's holding onto you. He's long since let your shirt go, instead grabbing onto the back of the couch. But he waits until he feels that familiar clench around his cock. The way your walls clamp down around him as you cum. The only warning being the high-pitched muffled moan that gets swallowed by Clyde.

His hips slam into you one more time before he pulls out. Grabbing the base of his cock, he shoots that hot thick load onto your back. Heavy amounts of cum drip down your spine making you whine and shiver. Clyde can't take his eyes off the way his partner paints your backside. It makes a trail of drool slip down his chin.

The poor man can't do it anymore, he can't stop his eyes from rolling up to the back of his head. Not when your moans vibrate up him and your throat tightens from choking on him. He needs this release.

"I'm gonna cum baby. Please, let me cum. Let me cum in your mouth." Clyde all but cries in between panting. His begging dissolves into your name and the word please over and over again.

His flickering eyes catch yours again. It's when you give him a little wink and a hum, his cock violently twitches and cum spills from his tip. His cum is sweeter than normal, it makes it easier to swallow.

Slowly he pulls out of your mouth with one final whimper. It isn't until Craig swipes his thumb over his cheek that you realize he had tears streaming down them. Clyde presses his cheek into Craig's hand and lets out a pleased sigh. Once he knows Clyde is okay, Craig stands up and goes to get a towel to help clean your back. He does the same to your face, swiping away the left-over tears.

"Feeling better?" Clyde asks as he helps pull your underwear up. "Nice and relaxed?"

You nod and rest your head against his chest. "You've got good ideas sometimes."

"I've got wrinkles on my brain." He smirks to himself, taking your little praise miles.

Craig comes back after tossing the towel in the dirty laundry with a large blanket. He throws it over both of you before climbing in next to you. He lays his head down on Clyde's and grabs the tv remote.

"Kitchen Nightmare or Hell’s Kitchen?"

"Kitchen Nightmares! I need some petty British accents after my orgasm denial!"

You scrunch up your nose at Clyde’s comment. Almost wanting to pull back. "Smooth brain behavior."

"Smooth brain behavior." Craig chimes in.

The three of you relax into the couch, almost ready for the group nap that comes with the afterglow of love making. That is until inspiration strikes you again. Your eyes light up and you go to wiggle out of their hold. But Craig's arms are faster, they keep you firm against his chest. Clyde's hands come down a moment later, cupping your hips.

"Nope. You're staying right here."

"Guys! No! I just figured out how I'm gonna get that chapter finished! You gotta let me go! I gotta do it!" Your pleads are wasted, like they're not even heard.

"No. You're warm and I'm tired."

"That's not my fault or my problem."

"I'm making it your problem. Sit still."

"You know Tucker bear isn't going to let go. You're fighting a losing battle babe." Craig at least has the decency to let Clyde finish before pinching him. You know Clyde's nickname for him makes him grumpy. His little yelp makes you giggle.

"Fine....at least until you fall asleep."

"Look if you think you can get out of his hold, then be my guest. You earned it at that point." Clyde's smirk returns. He throws his leg over yours and tucks it in between Craig's knees.

"Fuck you." Your eyes narrow up at him. He's not as slick as he thinks he is, trying to cage you in with a sleepy Craig.

"Again? So soon. You're insatiable babe. Let us recover first." Clyde presses a kiss into the top of your head, pulling back before you can headbutt him.

His hand guides your head back down onto his chest and he just chuckles. It doesn't take long before Craig is passed out with his head nuzzled into the curve of your waist. Holding you like a teddy bear against his chest. Clyde's smile grows when he sees you trying to fight off sleep. But it eventually takes you and you lose the battle. He turns the tv down just a bit, deciding to join the both of you.

That chapter can wait another day.

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xaeyrnofnbe · 1 year

Text

been thinking reaaally hard about the tritons on mana. i’m making things up as i go but damnit this is fun (yes they’re naked. i didn’t want to bother covering them up with clothes. and i wanted to show off the markings n stuff. but realistically they would wear clothes.)

BASICALLY the idea i have is that a very long time ago tritons were split up into three main groups, the ones who live in the shallows, the ones who live in the open ocean, and the ones that live in the deepest depths available. (details, of which there are many, under the cut. oh and additional versions of the drawing) (do take a look if you can, i wrote a lot)

the shallows variant, living near islands in shallow kelp forests and in coral reefs (sometimes even inland lakes and rivers), were the smallest. a bit shorter than the average human, in fact. they came in bright green-blue colors with a vibrant and diverse array of brightly colored fins, webbing, and gills. they were also the most humanoid.

those in the open ocean lived just about wherever as long as it wasn’t too deep or too near the oversea, and were bigger than humans. averaging well over ten feet in height, and nearly double that if you include the tail. they came in darker blues accented with green, often mirroring the deep blues of their environment. they are most defined, however, by their slightly uncanny features. they lean a bit more towards fishiness than their little cousins.

and in the deepest, furthest reaches of the ocean, where hardly any sunlight reaches at all, are the biggest, and least humanoid breed of triton. they’ve gone by many names, colossals, poseidons, leviathan tritons, you get the idea. coming in dull blues and purples, but with dazzling displays in the form of bioluminescent markings, along with coral-like horns or antlers growing from their heads, suggesting draconic influence in centuries past. they are enormous, so big in fact, that because i’m not great at eyeballing measurements i’m leaving it up to the concept art i’ve done to show off just how big they are. once upon a time, they lived among the leviathans, oceanic gods of their time, truly colossal in nature. but they were just as advanced and intelligent as their relatives. they were also the earliest tritons, from which the rest are descended.

now, the leviathan tritons are gone. whether something killed them or if they simply vanished, it’s impossible to know for certain. but the two surviving variants put aside their differences and became one, and now modern tritons sit comfortably between the appearances of both their ancestors. and as for what remains of the leviathan variant? well, it’s less obvious, but some bloodlines of modern tritons still carry those magnificent flashing spots and stripes, and on occasion, an infant is born with budding, brightly colored horns that grow with them as they develop and age.

these horns are generally thought of as a sign of powerful magic, or of godly influence. it can skip generations, but is passed down nonetheless.

here are the unshaded version, and the sketch, of the drawing seen above (oh and. i completely forgot to give the Big Tritons hair. as an excuse let’s say this is a bald one, but they’d normally also have hair.)

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #dungeons and dragons #dnd triton #dnd worldbuilding #things i said #things i drew

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hepbaestus · 13 days

Text

Coming home to my family afterward makes the work richer, easier and more fun.

Day 1 of the Hideduo Kiss Week Event by LazyCat

Day 1 prompt: Kiss on the cheek

1.6k words|stardew valley au family fluff| no TW's apply|ao3 link

After a long day in the mines, all Fit wants to do is sit at the fire with his husband Pac and their three kids, Richarlyson, Ramón and Rosa. This is him doing exactly that and what comes after.

Fic under the read more

The sun set slowly as Fit was walking back to the farm from the mountains, having gotten up early to go mining for a quest put up by Shane on the questboard at Pierre’s shop. He was tired and he hadn’t seen Pac all day, both of them having important things to do, on and off the farm. Despite his exhaustion, he still felt like walking back to the farm instead of taking the rickety minecart that he had given away bars of copper, iron and gold to the community centre for its repair. He didn’t yet trust that it wouldn’t break down mid journey, so he took the scenic route; past Linus’ tent and the Carpenter’s Shop.

Pac, the night before, had insisted that he’d stay at the farm the next day, wanting to spend time with their sons Ramón and Richarlyson and daughter Rosa, wanting to get the new animals that they’d bought recently from Marnie to get acclimated to the farm. Fit smiled to himself, despite being the primary owner of the farm, it having been his grandfather’s before him, he would not have thought to try to acclimate the farm animals personally. He’d have just let them do their thing until they were comfortable enough for him to shear them or take their eggs. But that was very in nature for Pac, especially when he, while Fit went mining or to Calico Desert for the Skull Caverns, looked after their two boys and the newest addition to their family. Though that’s not to say that Pac didn’t also do those things, they took it in turns to go mining while the other spent time at the farm.

Reaching the northernmost point of the farm, Fit made a pit stop to the water bowl outside the house, refilling it with water from his watering can. It was a task that normally they’d let the kids do but Fit noticed it to be empty. He didn’t like their cat, at first; it being a mangy old thing that Ramón had fallen in love with when it had made its home underneath the covering over their small orchard. He ’d succumbed to the puppy dog look that his three boys pulled when he suggested moving the cat somewhere else. Having filled Katos’ bowl and emptied his items in their assorted chests, he headed into the house.

Their house was laid out in a pretty standard way, Fit thought, with the first room you entered from the front door being the living room with kitchen on the left, in an open plan design. On the furthest wall from the front door was a fireplace that he and Pac had built together, as the house when he first moved in had no central heating. It wasn’t built well, clearly having multiple repairs made to it over their time living on the farm but he loved it. It was a show of their love of their home. Of their life spent together.

Shouts too loud for the time it was could be heard from the armchair in front of the fire, followed by little footsteps that could only belong to his two sons. He crouched down, reaching their height as they bulldozed their way into his arms, feeling the full force of two young children slamming into his body.

“Well isn’t it good to be back home eh? I hope you boys have been behaving yourselves for your Pai,” Fit looks at the two boys in his arms, having stood up with a child in each arm.

They both nod before, in almost unison, rambling about what happened while he was gone, voices getting muddled as they spoke on top of one another. Fit nods as if he’s understanding the two, when in reality, their voices blend into one amalgamation that no one would be able to understand. The young boys don’t notice this however, both too engrossed in informing their dad of the day’s events.

He walks to where Pac was still sitting with their youngest child Rosa leaning on his chest, sleeping soundly. He gently lowers each of the boys back onto the armrests of the chair, ruffling Ramón’s wavy hair, knowing that it wouldn’t have the potential to badly affect the boy’s hair like it would Richarlyson’s tight, curled hair.

“Oi Fitchie. Tudo bem?” Pac talks quietly, aware of the sleeping toddler, eyes quickly taking in any visible injuries on Fit’s person. Fit smiles to himself at the action, feeling Pac’s love through his searching eyes. He had no injuries for Pac to treat but he allowed his husband to look for some anyways.

“Oh you know, the usual. Too many slimes and cave flies,” Fit reaches a hand out to cup Pac’s face before kissing his cheek, “I’ll let you continue the story while I shower and get ready for bed.” He emphasises the end of his sentence, knowing that his boys do not like the preemptive part of going to bed, but adored the actual act of sleeping greatly. Pac, as if their relationship was brand new and not several years old at this point, blushed scarlet at Fit’s action, still not fully used to the initially stoic man showing such affection.

He heads off to shower and as he walks away, he can hear Pac picking up from where he left off, midway through telling a story of an adventure of him as a teen with their Tia Bagi and Tio Cellbit. The trio were known as the ‘troublesome trio’ growing up, having grown up in Pelican Town unlike Fit.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Feeling fresh and mostly rested after his shower, Fit walked back into the living room to see Pac having finished his story with their two boys on the verge of sleep, resting their heads on his shoulders. Picking up Richarlyson softly, so as to not rouse him from his almost slumbering state, he leads Pac holding both Rosa and Ramón in his arms to the children’s bedroom. As the two boys were still young they shared a room while Rosa got the smallest room that connected to Fit and Pac’s room. Once the two grew older, they’d commission Robin to build another room in the house for whichever of the kids to move into.

Fit took off Richarlyson’s prosthetic, knowing the boy would be too drowsy to unhook the little bands and clasps, before tucking him into his bed. He also tucked Richarlyson’s hair into his bonnet, preventing the potential for his hair to frizz as he slept. His side of the room was a lot messier than Ramón’s, with a mural in its beginning stages being painted on one wall and paint supplies and sketches strewn across the floor. As Pac had told him once, if it had happened at the orphanage where he grew up, the culprit would’ve been forced to get rid of it themselves; sanding away the paint and giving the wall a fresh coat of whatever bland off-white they’d decided to paint that specific room.

To Fit’s right, he could see in his peripheral vision that Pac was doing the same with Ramón, tucking him in tightly and leaving a kiss on the top of his head before exiting the room. Fit followed after him, having leaned Ricarlyson’s leg against his bedside table so that it was in arm’s reach for when the child woke up. Ramón’s side of the room was no less messy, more it being an organised mess. He knew where everything was despite the numerous pieces of machinery he’d been tinkering with scattered across any available surface.

They go back to the lounge after having put Rosa in her crib, sitting together on the armchair despite them clearly not being able to fit comfortably. Speaking in quiet voices, they tell each other of their days; who they spoke to, what fofoca Pac managed to get and other such things. As they spoke, the crackles of the fire faded into background noise, the two solely focusing on each other with a slight ear out listening for the potential of Rosa waking up.

It’s late into the night when their conversation dwindles down, the need to sleep finally taking hold of their bodies. Pac kisses his cheek before lightly tapping his ass, signalling him to get up from his lap so that they could go to bed. It’s not a common motion for Pac to do, so it causes Fit to stutter and stumble slightly as he lifts himself from his husband’s lap and walks to their room, glancing briefly at all of the different adventures the family had been memorialised in a gallery wall.

Their room was decorated simply. With framed birth certificates for each of their children and the deed to the farm pinned to one wall. Their bed rested against another wall and was a successful experiment of Robin’s, and was kindly given to the pair as a wedding gift when she had heard Pac jokingly complain about Fit’s old bed. They walked to the bed, each choosing a side, before getting comfortable. They were both quite specific on how they slept; Fit needed flat pillows for he slept on his back, having needed to sleep that way when living in a rundown area of Zuzu City, and Pac needed fluffy pillows for he slept on his side facing away from the wall, needing to be aware of his surroundings at all times because of the hostility in the orphanage he grew up in. They fell into a deep sleep quickly, the events of the day fully catching up to the pair.

With the sound of chickens clucking and their other animals waking up, Fit rouses to a weight on his chest. Expecting it to be Pac, he rests his hand on their hair, only to feel the bonnet that he’d gotten Richarlyson to wear not even twelve hours prior. He lifts his head up slightly, looking to his side to see his position replicated but with Pac and Ramón, his heart warming at the sight.

This was home, Fit thought.

#hideduokisswk #fitpac #fitpac fic #qsmp fic #stardew valley au #hep's writing #hideduo fic #sv!fit #sv!pac #sdv au

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the-last-quest · 10 days

Text

A Nine graffiti fic where Nine makes poor decisions in the name of making art.

(idk I’m bad at summaries)

[2312 words]

Nine rolled over in his bed and glanced at the clock resting on his bedside table.

2:35 AM it read, the red glow of the clock shining down on the young fox.

Normally Nine would curse his poor sleeping habits. Staying up late or waking up at absurd hours in the morning, a byproduct of living in a city where time never seemed to matter. Right now though he was at least a little thankful for it. Even though he couldn’t 100% guarantee that the other two members of the household were asleep, there still was a higher chance he could do what he had planned without getting caught.

Nine tossed off his blanket and hopped out of bed. He flicked on a lamp illuminating the blank wall in his room. During the previous week he had moved around the furniture and posters in his room in order to give himself a blank slate. It's not like he had a lot to move anyways, even though it had been a while since he settled here in Green Hill there wasn’t much of his own decoration in the room. Well that was going to change tonight.

Everything hinged on what was in the bag that was currently sitting in Nine’s closet.

Nine’s attention was first drawn to the bag earlier that week when Tails was giving him a tour of the lab. He didn’t really need the tour, already having snooped around before he and the other fox became at least civil to each other, but having someone who knew all the ins and outs of the lab certainly drew his attention to things that he didn’t notice before, namely a bag full of spray paint.

Which led him to now, pulling said bag out of his closet. He unzipped the bag and dug around in it removing the cans from the folds of clothes that he had shoved in between the cans to quiet them when he smuggled the bag into his room. As much as he wanted to criticize the hedgehog’s poor can packing he couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face when he noticed a distinct lack of a rattle as he unpacked the cans.

He flipped a can over and his suspicions were confirmed as he found what he was looking for, a magnet at the bottom of the can, holding the mixing ball still within the can of paint. Maybe he should give the hedgehog more credit, if only a bit.

Nine didn’t know how important silence was when spray painting here, but back in New Yoke, as loud as the city was, it was still important to be as silent as possible in order to keep an ear out for any stray eggforcers, so he was quite familiar with these magnets. Maybe after this he should ask Sonic about it.

As Nine pondered about that he picked out a black paint can, and removed the magnet from the bottom. He bit his lip as he glanced towards the wall that he and Tails shared. He made his way over to the wall furthest from them and tried to mix the paint as quietly as he could. Thankfully he picked a fuller can so the mixing ball wasn’t too loud. After mixing the paint Nine sprayed a couple of puffs into the air, checking it, before placing the magnet back onto the can.

Now with the paint mixed up and the wall space cleared and ready Nine was hesitant. Did he really want to do this? He bit his inner cheek as he started to question himself more. Sonic did say he could decorate his room however he wanted but he was sure that this isn’t what he meant. If the hedgehog really did care so much about art would he get mad about him using his paints?

Nine shook those thoughts away. Sonic wasn’t like that. He’d probably make some stupid joke about it or something.

He kept repeating thoughts similar to that as he tried to steady his nerves. With a deep breath Nine brought his hand up and started to paint. He’ll deal with what Sonic thinks when he finds out.

It wasn’t anything at first. Just random lines as Nine got used to spray painting again. It had been a while since he last painted. Paint was hard to come by in New Yoke, the fox often having to resort to digging through the garbage for even the slightest chance of finding something useful. Nine had run out of most of his supplies before Sonic appeared, and of course he didn’t have the time to attempt to do any art during the whole shatterverse event.

A smile grew on his face as the motions of painting came back to him. He still didn’t attempt anything too big but as he grew more and more comfortable he started to paint some loose doodles of whatever came to mind.

Once he felt like he was warmed up, Nine stepped back from the wall to admire his work. A small feeling of pride bubbled up as he looked at the doodles. Sure they weren’t the best things he ever did, but chaos did it feel good to get back into the groove again.

Of course that's when reality had to hit him again, the smell of the paint finally registering in his mind.

Nine stifled a cough as he pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose as he made his way towards the window. He was already pushing the noise with the paint, if he broke out into a coughing fit he was sure he would at least cause some concern.

He threw open the window and leaned out as far as he could in order to get as much fresh air that he could into his lungs.

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to spray paint in a room with no ventilation and no face protection but even as Nine suffered through his poor decisions he could already feel himself itching to start painting again. This time though he would be at least a little bit smarter.

Now that the window was open there was a slight breeze that made its way through the room.

‘Good’ Nine thought to himself as he brought himself back inside, he wouldn’t have to turn on a fan to get air circulation in the room.

Back in his room Nine went to his drawers and rummaged around in the for a second before he found what he was looking for, an old bandana, one of the only things he brought from his home back in New Yoke. The bandana, while not being the most effective face covering, was what he would use whenever he would venture out into the city to make art. He could probably do better with the covering, get a covering that would actually protect him from the chemicals inside the paint, but something about the bandana called to him in this moment, one of the only positive memories that he held from the city.

After the fox tied the bandana over his nose and mouth he returned to the cans that he had set out.

Most of them were near empty, not that it was too surprising, Nine wouldn’t expect anything more from the hedgehog. It was a bit disappointing that there wasn’t as much paint as he had expected, but it was not too much of an issue, he had worked with less before.

Nine picked up a different can and returned to painting. He’d return to the window often as he painted, either to get some fresh air, or to mix up the paint outside. There was no plan to what he painted, just going with the flow of whatever he most felt like painting.

Eventually that led him to painting a self portrait of himself, similar to the one that he had back in his base. The design was something that he painted a lot back in the city so the motions came naturally to him. It was like a calling card to him, similar to the animation that he made for his hacking adventures. Something that let him leave his mark on the world, letting him be seen without running the risks of any physical altercations, if he ignored eggforcers of course.

He got lost in the act of painting, his window breaks becoming less and less until he could feel his chest begin to ache from the chemicals he was inhaling. As much as he wanted to continue it was hard to justify it healthwise.

The fox took a step back and admired his work. He was able to fill up about half the wall, leaving plenty of space if he wanted to continue on a later date. Satisfied for now he turned off the lamp before he made his way back to the window.

With a practiced ease Nine lifted himself up and over the windowsill, landing onto the soft grass below. It wasn’t his first time he left through this window, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

He removed the bandana and shoved it in his pocket, letting the fresh air enter easier. As he stood outside, taking deep breaths to clean his lungs, he took a moment to take in the silence. It was one of the reasons he snuck out so much, the silence completely different from all the sounds from the city, but there was still the soft noise of nature, a small but stark difference from the silence of The Grim.

Nine’s plan was to head to the lab and to possibly start working on a new project. It wasn’t like he could return to his room tonight, even though he might be dumb enough to paint in there he wasn’t dumb enough to sleep in there.

As he made his way around the house something caught his eye, a splash of blue on the house, hidden somewhat behind a shrubbery. Nine made his way towards it, intrigued, but he was quickly able to figure out what it was.

His plan changed, only a bit as he turned back to return to his room. Maybe just a little more painting wouldn’t be that bad.

~~~~~~~~

Sonic was up early.

It wasn’t uncommon for the hedgehog to be up as soon as the sun rose, energy buzzing under his skin practically forcing him to go for a run to burn it off. He didn’t mind it though, it was nice to have some time for himself out in nature.

It was when he had returned from his morning run when he noticed something was off.

He returned to the house, approaching it on the side as that was the quickest way. About to make his way to the front door of the house he noticed that Nine’s bedroom window was open. That caused him to pause. He was aware of Nine’s habit of sneaking out at night, but the kid was always back in his room by morning.

Sonic made his way towards the open window. Normally he would give Nine his privacy, but right now he was concerned.

Whatever he was expecting when he peered into the window it wasn’t this.

The first thing that he noticed was the smell, the scent of chemicals hitting his nose right away, causing him to let out a couple of coughs. Well at least he knew where his spray cans went.

He had to admit that Nine had talent. He had seen the art he did in his lab back in New Yoke, but he never had the time to appreciate it. And even now he had other matters to attend to, specifically the location of said fox. Putting aside his concern about his location, he was grateful that Nine wasn’t in his room, if he could smell the chemicals from just the window then it probably wouldn’t be healthy if he had decided to sleep in his room.

Sonic decided to look in the lab first. It was his best place to find Nine, he reasoned, as he didn't see any sign of the fox in the living room when he left the house for his run. As he made his way towards the lab he almost missed the last piece of art Nine had made last night.

Tucked behind a shrub was a tag that Sonic had made on the house ages ago. It was somewhat of a tradition for him to leave his tag somewhere on his and Tails’ multiple locations scattered around the world.

He smiled as he saw a yellow tag right underneath his blue one. The fresh paint was a stark contrast to the faded paint of his old tag. He was going to have to re-do them eventually. Maybe he could have Nine tag along.

Plans of having Nine and him paint together began to form in his mind as he continued his way to the lab. And just as he expected he did indeed find the fox in it.

Nine was at his desk in the lab, the computer open on some random program that Sonic wasn't even going to try to decipher, fast asleep, a yellow spray sitting on the table next to him.

Sonic shook his head fondly at the scene. He grabbed one of the blankets in the side of the lab, ones that were there for this scenario and draped it over the sleeping kid.

While he tucked nine in he noticed the bandana and assumed that that was what he used in place of a respirator. He sighed at the poor excuse of a mask, knowing full well that there were proper ones in this very lab.

When he wakes up they’re gonna have a long talk about proper ventilation.

#sonic prime #artist nine is one of my fav headcanons lol #also his lungs are most definitely fucked up from not only this but from his whole life in the city #boys gonna need an inhaler in is future #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #miles nine prower #nine the fox #nine sonic prime #tails nine #my writing

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loverhymeswith · 7 months

Text

Spellbound

Day Four of the October Dreams 1K Follower Event

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Witch!OFC

Summary: Polly’s meddling has unintended consequences for Tommy

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, language, set around season four but mostly spoiler free

A/N: Dedicated to @a-reader-and-a-writer ❤️

“There’s a woman here to see you, Tom.”

Tommy tears his gaze from the pile of paperwork strewn across the desk to find Lizzie hovering in the doorway. His secretary’s face is a careful mask of indifference as she leans against the wooden frame, but her apparent apathy is belied by the hint of jealousy in her voice.

There’s nothing for her to worry about, Tommy muses to himself, reaching for the half-empty carton of cigarettes resting on the far side of his desk. He doesn’t have any of those appointments booked this evening - or for the foreseeable future. These days, sex is the furthest thing from his mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side with one hand and lighting his cigarette with the other, he inclines his head. “Send her in then, eh?” Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so accommodating towards unexpected visitors, but heaven knows he could do with a distraction.

Lizzie nods brusquely and disappears from the doorway before he can ask her to fetch him another packet of cigarettes.

“He says you can go in,” he hears her mutter in a clipped tone.

Choosing not to acknowledge her possessiveness for the time being - that’s another problem for another day - Tommy reclines in his chair and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He exhales heavily and when the smoke clears, he casts his attention over the woman who has taken Lizzie’s place.

Her appearance is unexpected. Striking, even, to say the least. Dressed from head to toe in black, she’s at least a foot shorter than his secretary but just as slight. A headscarf conceals much of her hair, and she appears to be dressed in a riding cloak and long skirts, a far cry from the ever-changing ladies’ fashion he has grown accustomed to in recent years.

Tommy narrows his gaze, trying to place her. It’s unheard of for his mother’s kin to approach him like this; these days, all communication flows through Esmee or Johnny Dogs. A gut feeling tells him this woman is something else entirely.

Seeming to shrink under the weight of his stare, his visitor is the first to break the silence, taking a tentative step forward as she murmurs, “Mr Shelby?”

There’s a note of nervousness in her soft Birmingham accent, which comes as little surprise. Clearly, she knows exactly who she’s dealing with. What he’s capable of. And why wouldn’t she? After all, the Shelby reputation continues to precede him.

Tommy nods, exhaling another cloud of smoke in her direction. “And who might you be?”

“Your aunt Polly sent me,” she answers, choosing to omit her name as she glances around the dimly lit office. “I’m sorry for turning up unannounced but she said it was for the best.”

A familiar sense of irritation prickles within Tommy’s veins as he recalls the particularly contentious conversation he’d had with Polly not two nights ago. It would seem his aunt has finally made good on her threats.

“Come in and close the door,” he barks, stubbing out his cigarette with more force than necessary.

The woman does as he commands, crossing the room until only the large mahogany desk separates them. With the distance between them now halved, he’s taken aback by how young she is, how her skin is unblemished and her hair - thick and dark - threatens to escape from two untidy braids. Her pale blue eyes, currently filled with the hint of trepidation, are lined with kohl.

“So you’re the witch, eh?” He raises his brow, wishing he’d poured himself a whiskey before agreeing to see this woman.

The feeling only intensifies as her striking gaze lingers on him for a beat longer than is comfortable and her voice takes on a more confident edge.

“We don’t like to use that term these days, Mr Shelby.”

“No?” Tommy considers this, pulling out another cigarette from his dwindling supply and rolling it across his bottom lip. “What would you have me call you then?”

The woman’s shoulders lift slightly, apparently unfazed by his churlish response. “Some call us healers.”

“Healers?” he scoffs around the cigarette, the beginning of a headache starting to form. “You think I’m in need of fixing?”

“What I think is irrelevant, Mr Shelby. But Polly seems to think so.”

Polly. Damn that meddlesome woman. One day she’ll realise that some things - some people - are better left broken. And even if he could undo the events of the last five years, there is simply no coming back from what happened in France. There is no coming back from death.

“Polly doesn’t know anything. And you are wasting your time.” He waves his hand towards the door. He has absolutely no intention of entertaining Polly’s fantasies tonight - or ever. “No amount of magic or potions is going to change a bloody thing. So you can leave now.”

Despite his disparaging tone, the woman doesn’t baulk. “She already paid me twenty shillings to come here tonight.”

“Twenty shillings, eh?” He blinks back his surprise. “That’s quite a profit you must be turning. And you didn’t just take the money and run?”

She frowns at the implied insult, her pink lips pursing. “My grandmother taught me better than that. Besides, Polly is a friend of the family.”

“And who is your family?” he wonders aloud. “You’re not one of the Lees.” No, they assuredly would have taken the money and ran.

She shakes her head, her unwavering gaze still trained in his direction. “I’d prefer it if we kept my family out of it, Mr Shelby. As I said, I’m here at your aunt’s behest.”

Unaccustomed to being on the backfoot, Tommy is careful to hide his unease. This woman seems to know him - or his family, at least - but he has absolutely no idea where she has come from.

“Forgive my curiosity,” he mutters around the cigarette, not an ounce of contrition in his tone. “But I usually seek references when doing business. It’s good practice to know who you’re getting into bed with. Do you know Johnny Dogs?”

Her lips curl into a smile. “He offered me his hand in marriage once. My grandmother saw him off with a shotgun. Threatened to put a curse on him if he ever came back.”

“Smart woman, your grandmother.” Despite his misgivings, Tommy gestures for her to take a seat across from him, unable to deny his growing intrigue. He’d wanted a distraction, had he not? “Cigarette?”

She shakes her head, gracefully lowering herself into the spare armchair. “They’re bad for your health.”

“This is Birmingham, sweetheart. Everything is bad for your health. Including” - he points a finger in her direction - “witches.”

In lieu of a response, she smiles again and suddenly he finds himself wishing she’d remove that headscarf. Her face is still partially cast with shadows in the low light; he’d like to see all of her.

“So humour me.” He settles back in his seat and stubs out his second cigarette, both his headache and the desire for whiskey beginning to fade away. “What exactly has Polly paid you to do?” Tommy would be the first to admit that he has a complex relationship when it comes to his family’s faith in fortunes and curses.

“Besides the magic and potions, you mean?” she teases, her ring-clad fingers clasped in her lap.

Fighting the unexpected and somewhat disconcerting urge to smile back, Tommy nods. “Besides the magic and potions.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mr Shelby, but it’s bad for business to reveal all my secrets.”

There’s no trace of her initial apprehension as she continues to meet his eye. In fact, she seems to have relaxed in his presence. He can’t decide whether she’s brave or just naive.

“Tommy,” he tells her, taking both of them by surprise. “You can call me Tommy.”

She pauses for a moment, her blue gaze suddenly unreadable, before she replies, “Ok, Tommy.”

Another beat of silence passes between the two of them and there’s a noticeable change in the air as it fills with an electric charge - the portent of a gathering storm.

“You won’t tell me about your family, but it seems only fair I should get your name, eh?” Tommy remarks, offering her an expectant look. The truth is, he wants to keep her talking. Magic and potions be damned.

“Evelyn,” she murmurs, her answer taking him by surprise.

“I knew a girl named Evelyn once,” Tommy tells her, clearing his throat. Deep in the back of his mind, a memory is stirring. A truth, demanding to be revealed. “We called her Evie. Always had flowers in her hair. We played together as children on the banks of the canal. Me, her and Arthur.”

The woman, the witch - Evelyn - shifts in her seat. “What happened to her?”

“War happened,” he tells her, bluntly. “Never saw her again.”

That’s not to say he hadn’t thought about the girl often, although admittedly less so over the years. He’d made a point not to seek her out when he’d returned from France. It was safer to treasure her as a memory than trouble her with the demons that had followed him back to Small Heath.

“But you got to say goodbye.”

It’s less a question than a statement, but Tommy finds himself responding anyway, still grappling with that insistent feeling that he’s forgetting something. “I did.”

“You kissed her,” Evelyn continues solemnly. “At Digbeth Lock. After the summer fair.”

Thrown off balance entirely, Tommy stutters. “I- how did you know that?” He frowns, rubbing a hand across his jaw. Is he under the witch's spell right now?

Slowly, wordlessly, the witch begins to unwrap her headscarf. Tommy watches, spellbound, as her beautiful face finally comes into full view, a thin crown of crimson and ochre flowers resting atop her midnight hair. All of the air leaves his lungs in a single breath.

It can’t be.

“It’s you. It’s fucking you.” He shakes his head, eyes rapidly searching her face as he reconciles the woman before him with the memory of his childhood sweetheart. Evie. How could he have been so blind. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Evelyn clutches her discarded scarf tightly, her eyes now shining bright with unshed tears as she offers him a melancholy smile. “I was told the war had changed you, Tommy. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Of course he remembered her. Evie. The girl with the flowers in her hair.

Abruptly, he rises to his feet, torn entirely between pouring himself a whiskey and gathering her into his arms.

The truth is, Tommy Shelby has always believed himself to be irrevocably broken. But maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to fix him.

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy fic #October #follower celebration

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missathlete31 · 9 months

Text

Rumors

Natasha Trace is used to people making assumptions about her. She's a woman in a male-dominated industry. Beyond that she is an elite pilot in a male-dominated industry and judgment is just a part of her life. She's managed it well, all things considering, and learned to surround herself with people who respect her for her talents and intelligence rather than demean her for her sex. Of course Bagman is always good for a disparaging comment or two, but Phoenix has caught him defending her to men who dare to question her abilities when he thinks she is out of earshot, so she knows where his true feelings lie.

Ignoring all the nasty assumptions made about her: sleeping with superiors, hired for optics, among other things, there are some rumors that are just plain funny. Take for example, her personal life. Fighter pilots are notorious for Daddy issues and a lack of settling down (i.e the Roosters and Mavericks of the world). Phoenix herself has never really caught the 'marriage and babies' bug that most other women her age experience, and she's fine with that. Setting down isn't something she particularly avoids, just something that doesn't fit in her life at the moment. It isn't to say it never will though.

There are rumors she is a lesbian, which while are untrue, she doesn't necessary consider insulting. Finding love with a woman, man or any other sexual orientation or preference isn't something that someone should ever be judged for and Phoenix herself would never criticize anyone else's penchants. No, what she finds eye rolling is that a strong woman must be lesbian. That because she flies planes, and wears bulky helmets that mess up her hair, that because she can play football in the sand and not care if she is sweaty or smelly she has to "bat for a certain team." It's silly, archaic and most importantly wrong. Natasha's hobbies or abilities don't dictate her love life and when she finds love, with whomever she does find it with, she looks forward to those rumors finally settling.

But then she will always have her family gossip.

Despite what some might think, Natasha doesn't have any unresolved 'Daddy Issues'. Her father Matthew is a normal dad. Stern in his desire to raise children that worked to do good and be respectful, but also kind in his teachings and loving in his affections. When Nat had shared she wanted to be a pilot, Matthew encouraged it wholeheartedly and he and Phoenix's mother Rosa offered all the support they could to help their daughter reach her dream. Every milestone or commendation, Natasha's parents were and still are always in attendance, both smiling brightly at not just the achievements of their child, but her happiness too.

Rumors say her father is Hispanic (his family was from England actually, where as Nat's mother is Mexican). They say he works on cars or carpentry, or something with his hands. They say he's a man's man, someone who would take a daughter and push her into boy things, but it's the furthest from the truth. Matthew is a quiet man, preferring a book or listening to soft rock music while his wife chatters endlessly in the kitchen. He teaches at a high school in California; English because that was the only opening (though his passion was always history), and he even advises a few of the clubs on campus. He knows nothing about planes, certainly nothing about F-18s or any other fighter jets, and he looked just as confused about Natasha's sudden desire to fly as Nat's mother did. But, like any good parent would, he rolled with. He bought her books about flying when she asked. He parked them close to the airport one day when she talked about watching take offs and landings, and he hugged her the hardest on the day she was accepted into the Naval Academy.

As the years passed, Natasha's father has picked up a few things about his daughter's job. He's learned a few terms, makes sure to always know where she is based out of or what carrier she is on, and he's very particular about knowing the name of the WSO assigned to her. Matthew Trace might not be what the rumors say he is, he can't rebuild a car from scratch or fix a broken pipe (he usually ends up with a concussion from hitting his head against the sink counter too many times) but he is a great father. And though he didn't push her into flying, he and Natasha's mother always made sure their daughter knew that they were with her in the skies; ready to watch her triumphs and catch her just in case she falls.

Beyond the rumors of her father, there is also this belief that Natasha should have an infinite amount of older brothers. She is expected to have been a tom boy growing up, following on little legs after brothers who were taller, faster, and stronger; all of them eventually steering her into sports and planes. The first time Nat and Bob shared their family history, the WSO looked at her funny when she shared about Anna.

"Only one sister?" Bob questioned, a furrow gracing his face.

"Yup" Phoenix nodded, "one older sister, works for an insurance company in Sacramento."

The man turned back to his drink, "huh" he mused.

"What?" Nat couldn't help feeling on the wrong foot. She didn't think Bob was judging her but she couldn't help the sinking feeling that settled in her stomach from his clear perplexity, "what is it?"

"I don't know" he shrugged before meeting her gaze, "I always assumed you had a bunch of older brothers."

He wasn't the only one. The first time Rooster met her family he looked actively surprised when a gaggle of men didn't come bursting from the house. She tried to tell him many times she only had a sister but Bradley still seemed to think she had somehow misled him, expecting Nat to be the influence of someone else. She had been angry for a moment, annoyed at how many people felt she couldn't just love to fly on her own accord and not pushed by outside force.

Soon enough she learned to embrace it, along with all the other stereotypes and conjecture labeled to her.

When she arrives to a fellow pilots wedding in a tight dress and full makeup and hair, stunning the room silent and earning surprised glances from every man and woman, Natasha keeps her head high and walks over to the other Daggers, remembering the hours she spent as a teen watching make-up tutorials because even 'Tom-Boys' like to look pretty.

When she lands a particularly rough tackle in Dogfight football and Yale grumbles about how her older brothers must be so proud; Phoenix laughs as she thinks of the afternoons with Anna, the two of them playing dress up and dolls and having all the fun in the world.

When she changes Halo's tire for her one night and the other woman pouts that she wishes her father taught her this lesson, Nat smiles good-naturally and remembers how her father had waited 2 hours for AAA one time because he attempted to change a tire and lost the lug nuts in the brush on the side of the road.

When she catches Payback reading one of the books in her father's curriculum on the beach one day, she doesn't even hesitate to bring up some of Matthew Trace's discussion points. Reuben chats with her, clearly impressed, and assumes that when she explains how her house is filled with books, it must be from Nat's mother. She doesn't bother correcting him.

And when her family arrives for the Dagger BBQ hosted by Penny and Mav after they all survive the mission, Natasha smirks at the surprised faces of her teammates when they take in her glasses wearing, sweater-covered father, her loud and boisterous mother and her singular female sibling. The rumor mill clearly having never been so wrong.

But that's life isn't it, especially for someone like Natasha Trace. Assumptions are always going to be made and Phoenix is always going to love to prove them wrong.

#top gun maverick #top gun #natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace #rumors #Phoenix is a badass #and defies expectations and assumptions #top gun: maverick #dagger squad #monica barbaro #short fic #possible repost #top gun phoenix

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