#for better or for worse you’re stuck like that bud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 27 days

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How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k

“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart.

“I’m not scared.”

“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.”

“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park.

You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door.

Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door.

“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?”

Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone.

You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby.

You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight.

“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?”

Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.”

You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.”

Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell.

“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?”

Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips.

Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.”

You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.”

“Hi,” Noah says quietly.

Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.”

“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder.

Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask.

“No… buppy.”

“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.”

He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.”

Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk.

“He doesn’t have formula?”

“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.”

“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him).

Steve crouches down. “Can I help?”

Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.”

“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces.

“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist.

He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.)

“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.

“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee.

Steve snorts. “Thank you.”

“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand.

You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is.

You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?”

“What? No? Of course not.”

“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.”

If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.

You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.”

Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh.

“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu.

“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says.

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?”

“I’ll learn.”

You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?”

“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely.

“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it.

“Then he can have some of everything.”

You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any.

“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”

“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!”

“What, babe?”

“My hand!”

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh.

“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own.

Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.”

Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.”

Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning.

“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers.

Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”

“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.”

Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh.

“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?”

“No,” Noah says cheekily.

Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”

“Think so?” you ask.

Steve nods.

You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask.

Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones.

“Like me,” he says, grinning.

“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!”

You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead.

Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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sadesluvr · 3 months

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Kiss It Better

Seven minutes in heaven with Ethan Landry turns out to be the therapy you both needed.

(Ethan Landry x Reader)

A/N: My first (overdue) Ethan fic! Pre ejac with Ethan is one of my guiltiest pleasures…Minors/Ageless blogs DNI

Word count: 1.5K

Tags: SMUT / Fem! Reader / Enemies to lovers / Handjobs / Fingering / Premature ejaculation / Virgin! Ethan + Experienced! Reader / Dirty talk / Dom + Sub elements, if you squint

Ethan didn’t know how he’d gotten here; back pressed against the narrow walls of a shoe cupboard whilst he fought the process of perspiration, which seemed damn near impossible given the stuffiness of the frat house.

His heart pounded in his chest as he squirmed uncomfortably, desperate not to look you in the face. You, the bane of his existence, had become stuck together, counting the seconds as the time passed for the dreaded seven minutes.

It was a Friday night, and expectedly, Chad had dragged him to another party, filled with cheap alcohol and set to the aura of low, coloured lighting. He hadn’t expected you to show up - people usually only showed up to parties for one thing, and you were already dating Bryce, someone who happened to be his classmate.

To put it simply, Bryce was an ass. He was a self entitled econ student, with a Fortune 500 father and a future budding stint in jail for fraud - should he ever be caught - though guys like Bryce never did.

Two things made it worse - One, the fact that he seemed to target Ethan himself, and two, that you, his girlfriend, never seemed to do anything about it…to the point that it was encouraged.

There was never a moment where Bryce hadn’t threatened Ethan for ‘help’ (it was much, much more than that) to the latest assignment, or made a snide comment towards him in the hallways. He hated it, but he’d always been kind of a pushover.

So wasn’t it ironic that you’d ended up rolling him at a game of ‘Spin the Bottle?’

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, clearing his throat. “I know you probably wanted someone like Chad…”

You snorted.

“He definitely wouldn’t have hurt,” you sighed, staring up at the ceiling, likely begging for someone to rescue you. “But I’ve been there, done that….plus, I’ve already got a man,”

Ethan raised his brows at your flippant admission. Chad hadn’t mentioned that before.

“…Does Bryce know you’re here?” he stammered.

“Yup,” you said nonchalantly, popping your tongue. “He didn’t stop me, so I guess our chapter’s closed,”

“Y-You broke up?” Ethan said, throat dry as he choked on his own words. This probably meant that the bastard would be even more of an ass to him, if that were even possible.

You nodded.

Ethan stared at you with wide eyes, about to speak when you raised a finger.

“I don’t need your pity. It’s just a college fling, I’ll move on to the next.”

He raised his brow and puffed his cheeks at that statement. He’d heard the exact opposite, but who was he to speak about someone else’s relationship?

It was silent for a few moments, with you finding a particular interest in your nails before you looked up at Ethan, studying him intently. He was rather big for a nerd; tall, with surprisingly wide shoulders and arms - a direct contrast to his boyish curly hair. He’d always been nothing but shy and polite - something even Bryce had echoed - but you’d never really taken him seriously. At most, he was just some dude from Econ who happened to room with one of your past flings.

Still, whether it was the liquor induced haze from cheap alcohol or the fact that you were moping over your breakup, the little dork seemed rather appealing. After all, what was a better way to get over a failed relationship?

“Look, I’m sorry for how that came out, okay?” You huffed, making eye contact with him. “I’m a little hurt, and I can be a total ass sometimes…Just like Bryce. I’m sorry for how he treated you. Totally not cool.”

You tried not to giggle at the way the boy's eyes widened.

“Y-You don’t have to apologise, it’s not really your fault!” the boy stammered. “Bryce is — He’s Bryce. And I actually liked doing his assignments, they’re kinda fun when you’re really into the topic…! I-I mean not to—“

His rambling was silenced by your lips on his, taking charge as you smeared the taste of your lipgloss across his lips, consuming every one of his stifled gasps. You pulled away, unable to hide a smirk as he ran a hand through his hair; face flushed and panting. He was so animated in his actions that it was hard to believe he was real.

“Y-You kissed me…”

“Sorry,” you hummed. “I won’t do it again,”

“No! No, I liked it…” Ethan said desperately. “A lot…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d be into a guy like me…”

You smirked and shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re pretty cute for a nerd. Besides, it’s pointless to waste our time here, isn’t it?”

“I-I think time should be up soon —“ the boy continued to stammer, but you rolled your eyes and placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” you whispered, draping your arms around his neck before you began to kiss him again, this time running your fingers through his hair, your graceful fingertips sending chills down his spine. He reciprocated, opting not to go too far and settling with his hands on your waist, tracing the curve of your spine as he relaxed into the motions of your lips against his.

Was he dreaming?

His somewhat emboldened move made you smirk, and you pressed your body against his, breasts pushing against his chest and thigh rubbing along his crotch, causing him to gasp.

“Shit…” he mumbled, pulling away as he tried to adjust himself. “I’m sorry, I —“

“Ethan,” you sighed, cupping his cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry, I like it. And as long as you do too, I’m down. Just relax, okay?”

He nodded, mesmerised as you took his hand, and interlocked your fingers, guiding them from the soft mounds of your breasts to past your thighs, eventually slipping them under your skirt. Ethan’s fingertips had pushed your panties to the side with ease, and the boy almost choked as he enveloped his digits in your folds.

You were warm and wet, and so his movements inside you came easy. If the fact that he was touching you weren’t mesmerising enough, it was your unwavering eye contact that made his heart clench. You were taking control, and yet you were still submissive enough to let him explore you - solidified by the entranced look in your eye.

He must’ve been doing something right.

“Feel good?” you hummed, not really listening out for an answer. Ethan’s low, ragged breaths told you everything, and you almost took pity on him for what was to come.

Sliding your hands down his torso, you stopped at his jeans, cupping his bulge and giving it a gentle squeeze. He gasped; involuntarily pulling you towards him as his head draped slightly on your shoulder. He was practically keeling over and you’d barely even touched him.

Smirking, you skilfully unzipped his fly and dug around in his briefs, gripping your hands around his cock before pulling it out. His precum dripped tip grazed your thigh, twitching as you began to stroke the vessel, admiring its girth.

Ethan whimpered, shutting his eyes as he parted his lips, lost in the flurry of sensations. He’d just found your clit, and he revelled in the way you’d moaned as he rubbed it, causing your walls to clench on his fingers…and now here you were, jerking him off.

“Is this your first handjob, Eth?” you purred into his ear. He could barely fathom an answer, instead nodding vehemently, tousling his hair in the process.

“Aw,” you giggled, giving his balls a gentle squeeze as you kissed his reddening neck. “I’m so lucky to be your first…I bet you’ve been dreaming of this for a while, hm?”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, gasps slowly getting louder as he took deeper breaths. He withdrew his face from your shoulder to look at you, a beautiful devil, eyes clouded with lust as they glimmered in the dim lighting of the house around you. In this moment, nothing mattered, and he took the opportunity to kiss you - to which you eagerly returned.

His movements became more frantic as you squealed at his sudden aggression, your mixture of shock and fear somehow turning him on even more. It reminded him of all the screams of fear when he —

“Fuck, Eth,” you whined further, drawing him from his thoughts. “You’re so big, no wonder why Bryce hated you…” you mused before letting out a chuckle. “…You know, I’ve always secretly had a thing for nerds.”

Whether you were being genuine or not, Ethan immediately spilled his load at the statement, moaning loudly in your shoulder as his body convulsed and fingers twitched. His rich cum coated your fingers, and you laughed as he writhed against you, riding out his high. He’d only lasted three minutes, but they were the best three minutes of his life.

He hid his face shyly as he looked back up at you.

“That quick, hm?” you giggled, licking the excess off of your skin. “You continue to flatter me, Landry,”

“Let me make it up to you,” he said boldly, wholly serious as he stared you in the eye. You cocked a brow, expecting him to be apologetic, but you couldn’t help but admire his newfound confidence.

Fixing your clothes, you nodded and curved your lips into a smile.

“I think I will,” you hummed, taking his hand in yours. “Your place or mine?”

#florence writes!!#ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream x reader #ghostface x reader #scream iv x reader #scream iv imagine #scream smut

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theladyofdeath · 1 year

Text

Better or Worse {9}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

“Shit, bud. Calm down.”

Nyx is flailing around recklessly in his booster seat, his seatbelt stuck. As soon as the words leave my mouth, he gasps.

“That’s naughty, uncle Cass,” he says, as I lean over him and rattle the seatbelt for a second, getting it unstuck and breaking him free. He hops out of the truck and I grab his backpack.

“What’s naughty?”

“Bad words.” He leads us into the kitchen from the garage and Greg instantly greets him. Nyx is the only human that Greg truly likes. “Hi, Greggy.”

“They’re only naughty if you say them,” I assure him, dropping his backpack onto the kitchen table.

“Aunt Nesta!” Nyx’s little voice rings through the house.

“She’s not home, buddy,” I say, throwing him over my shoulder and carrying him into the living room.

He repeatedly hits me in the back as he giggles. “Where is she?”

“Yoga,” I say, and Nyx repeats the word with confusion. “Exercising,” I simplify. “Aunt Elain dragged her to a yoga class to help her with her body aches from carrying your new cousin.”

“Does having a baby hurt, uncle Cass?”

“I don’t think it feels too good, bud.”

“How did Aunt Lainy get a baby in her belly?”

I drop Nyx on the couch and cross my arms, trying not to laugh at his curiosity. Answering that question is beyond my pay grade. “Ask your dad.”

“But—”

“Ask your dad.”

He sighs. “Fine. I’m hungry.”

Of course he is. He’s always hungry. “Chicken nuggets or mac and cheese?”

He frowns. “Why can’t I have both?”

Both it is.

I may be a critically acclaimed chef, but even I can’t help but heed the call of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

“Uncle Cass?” Nyx asks, while I’m walking toward the kitchen.

“Hmm?”

“Why is your pillow on the couch?” His question makes me stop to look back at him. Sure enough, he has my pillow on his lap and is beating the shit out of it. “That’s a bed pillow. It goes on your bed.”

It should be on my bed.

For the last few nights, since our date, I’ve debated on going up to bed. Every night, I’m tempted, and every night I think that it’s the night I’m finally going to take that step, but Nesta has never mentioned it and she’s the one that said one of us should be sleeping on the couch once I came back home.

Things have been going so well between us that I’m scared I’m going to do something to ruin it, like climb into bed with her in the middle of the night when she doesn’t want me there.

“I slept on the couch last night,” I say, slowly, “because aunt Nesta was snoring too loud.”

Nyx giggles and starts fake snoring loudly and obnoxiously. “Like that?”

“Exactly. She was keeping me awake.”

As I walk into the kitchen and get a pot out the cupboard, Nyx says, “Is sleeping on the couch comfy? You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”

I snort and the pain in my lower back seems to be agreeing with my nephew. I remember being twenty and able to sleep in whatever position, wherever, and not feeling a damn thing. Now, after sleeping on the narrow as fuck couch, I wake up every morning with aches and pains I didn’t think were possible after an eight hour sleep.

Half an hour later, Nesta walks through the door as me and Nyx are downing chicken nuggets and macaroni, and she barely says hi before Nyx says, “Uncle Cass is too old and big to be sleeping on the couch, Aunt Nesta, so you need to stop snoring.”

Her eyes go wide and she looks from him to me and I hope she can still read my face as well as she used to.

She turns back to our nephew, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and asks, “Is that why he said he was sleeping on the couch?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding animatedly. I’m fairly sure that the last bite he had was more ketchup than it was nugget, based on the amount on his face. “He said it was cause you were snoring like this.”

He then replicates his fake snore from earlier, embellishing his snorts just as well as he had before.

Her eyebrows raise and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Her jaw clenches and I think every bit of progress we’ve made is about to be gone in an instant.

But then her lips twitch.

I exhale, the relieved breath I’ve been holding whooshing out quietly as Nesta hums. “That’s funny, because I recall making him sleep on the couch because he was the one snoring.”

With the most dramatic of gasps, Nyx turns to face me. “You were the one snoring, Uncle Cass?”

My wince is fake, but he can’t tell that. “Only a little bit. Hers were louder.”

Scooping up a bite of macaroni, he says, “Mama snores, but daddy said I’m not allowed to say anything about it.”

I watch in wonderment as Nesta throws her head back and laughs. “Your mama does snore, and your daddy is very smart for keeping that to himself.”

Nyx grins as if he had just said the world’s best joke.

Nesta catches me watching her and her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink.

“How was yoga?”

“Good,” she says, setting her back down next to the island. “I haven’t done it in so long, but I feel amazing.”

I’m about to say good, that I’m glad she had such a nice time, but then she reaches down to my plate and grabs a chicken nugget before popping it into her mouth. I gasp and turn to the toddler stuffing his face beside me. “Did she just steal one of my nuggets?”

Nyx shakes his head and says, “You better get her, Uncle Cass.” He shoves a spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “She needs to go to timeout.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at Nesta, who is smiling as she chews, looking ridiculously gorgeous and humored. “You. Time out. Now. Nose in the corner for five minutes.”

That brow lifts, once more. “Is that a demand?”

Her voice has a sultry quality I haven’t heard in months.

“Hell yeah it is,” I murmur, and Nesta’s eyes brighten. Nyx is too busy stuffing his face to call me out for my curse or notice what’s happening. At least until I say my next words. “Unless you want to take us for ice cream instead.”

Nyx’s spoon clatters onto his plate as he drops it to clap. “Ice cream! Ice cream!”

Nesta pretends to think on it for a minute. “Finish everything on your plate, then I guess we can get ice cream.”

Nyx jumps up in his chair with a celebratory screech before sitting back down to finish his dinner in record time.

True to her word, after going to change out of her yoga clothes, Nesta returns a few minutes later, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan, with her hair pulled back off of her face. She grabs her purse off the counter and asks, “Ready to go?”

Nyx is up and heading for the garage before I can react, but even so, I’m glued in place.

She is so, so beautiful.

Turning for the back door, Nesta notices I haven’t moved. She glances back at me. “What?”

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I approach her, pausing in front of her. “Nothing, just…” I reach out and run my hand down the length of her sleek ponytail, tugging lightly when I reach the end. I don’t let myself notice the slight catch in her breath as I do so. “Appreciating how gorgeous you are.”

Her eyes, so often full of storms, are calm today and they soften, as she looks at me.

“Can I kiss you?” I whisper, still not wanting to push her past her comfort zone yet.

She nods, rising up on her toes and closes the distance between us before I even have the chance.

My hands cup her face, tilting her head just right so I can slant my mouth over hers. Her fingers are clinging to my shirt and I break the kiss before it can become anything our nephew shouldn’t see.

“Come on,” I say, lacing her fingers in mine and heading for the back door. “You promised ice cream and you’re going to have to deliver.”

One of my favorite things about having a nephew is having the ability to load him up on sugar and then give him back to my brother.

By the time we’re pulling into Rhys and Feyre’s driveway, Nyx is bouncing in his carseat, singing the national anthem of Velaris at the top of his lungs for the fifth time. Apparently he’s been practicing it at school, and I’m impressed considering he only messes up about half the words.

Nesta finds it hilarious.

I keep sneaking glances over at her as she laughs in the passenger seat.

Rhys opens the door when I ring the doorbell and Nyx runs past him, into the house, giggling as he continues singing. He doesn’t even move, my brother, as his toddler runs through the house. He just sighs and looks at me. “Ice cream?”

“Blame Nesta.”

I think he’s about to scold me, but then he cocks his head. “You seem happy. Doing good?”

I nod, slowly. “Yeah. I am. We are, I think.”

Even through his exhaustion, he smiles. “Good.” From somewhere in the distance, there’s a crash.

Then, Nyx yelling, “Daddy? Uh… I tried to get juice.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I have to mop up some juice,” Rhys says, clapping me on the shoulder before telling me he’ll call me later.

When I make it back to the truck, Nesta’s watching me. “That’s going to be fun putting to bed.”

“Considering it’s already ten minutes past bedtime? Yeah, Rhys is going to be thanking us.”

She chuckles and gets comfortable as I back out of the driveway. The ride is quiet for a moment, nothing uncomfortable, but as I stop at a redlight I can feel her watching me. I turn to meet her gaze as the truck comes to a stop. “You alright?” She nods, but she’s sucking on her bottom lip. I frown. “Nes, we have to be honest with each other, if you’re not alright—”

“I’m fine,” she says, quietly. The light turns green. “I’ve just been thinking.”

The words leave her slowly and an uneasy feeling creeps into the pit of my stomach. “Okay. About what?”

“You,” she says, quietly. “Sleeping on the couch.”

I shrug, doing my best not get my hopes up. “Not a big deal.”

“I disagree,” she says, turning in her seat to face me.

This is something I’ve noticed her doing for the past few weeks. She’s giving me her full attention, letting me know that I’m her priority right now.

“Nyx won’t say anything to Rhys and Feyre,” I promise her, assuming she’s worried about what her sister will say. “And even if he does, I’m sure they could guess I’ve been sleeping on the couch—”

“I don’t care what Rhys and Feyre think.” She cuts me off and I let her, snapping my mouth shut. “I don’t care what anyone else, save for Gwyn, thinks about what takes place in our marriage. I… I’ve been thinking you should come back to bed.”

“Tonight?” I ask, turning onto our street, glancing over at her. I want to make sure she’s serious, that she’s not just saying this because she thinks it’s what she should do since Nyx found out.

“Tonight,” she agrees, then adds, “and tomorrow night, and the night after that, depending how things go.”

I pull into our driveway and into the garage, parking next to her car, but neither of us make a move to get out. My next question could damn me, but I can’t stop myself from asking. “And how do you want things to go?” Immediately, Nesta’s back goes rigid and I reach out, taking her hand and smoothing my thumb over the back of it. “I’m not asking to have sex, Nes, I just want to know what exactly you’re expecting.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.” Opening her eyes, she gives me a soft smile. “But I miss having you sleeping next to me. I miss falling asleep in your arms and waking up with you curled around me. I even miss your snoring.”

I feign being appalled. “My snoring?”

“Yeah, contrary to what you told our nephew, you’re the only one that snores in this relationship,” she says, laughing quietly.

“What can I say?” I ask, quietly, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between us and kiss her. “I’m not perfect.”

She rolls her eyes and tells me to get out of the truck. We go inside and I grab my pillow off the couch after I lock up and make my way upstairs.

When I enter, Nesta’s standing in her bra, pulling an old t-shirt out of her drawer. It takes me a second to realize I’m staring, then I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry.”

She laughs, quietly. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before, Cass.”

Taking that as permission, I look back up, but she’s pulled the t-shirt on. It’s one of mine, one I haven’t worn in years, one that she had claimed long ago. It’s long enough on her that when she starts shimmying out of her jeans, I don’t see anything, it’s all hidden.

“True,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say. To confess that it’s different now, that everything is different now, probably wouldn’t help the situation. I don’t want to start a fight right when I’m about to climb into my own damn bed for the first time in over a month.

Her smile doesn’t fade as she goes into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. I pull off my shirt and search through my drawers for a clean pair of sweatpants, which I kick off my jeans to pull on.

Greg hops onto the bed, the bell on his collar jingling merrily as he makes himself comfortable on Nesta’s pillow. As much as I love our cat, I’m not interested in having him squeezed between us like the furry toddler he is the first night I’m allowed back in my own bed.

Without a word, I round to her side of the bed, picking Greg up. He gives me an inquisitive trill as I carry him towards the bedroom door, which turns into a noise of outrage as I chuck him out into the hall and pull the door shut as he lands on his feet.

Nesta comes out of the bathroom, chuckling. “What was that?”

I turn around to make a snarky remark about Greg’s sass, but I come up short.

In nothing but that damn old shirt, Nesta’s pulling her hair back into a ponytail. With her arms raised, the hem of the shirt slides up her thighs. I can’t help my eyes as they graze her body, can’t help how slowly they trail from her bare legs, to the curves of her breasts that I can make out through the thin fabric now that her bra has been long forgotten, up to her cleansed face, which I admire in all her natural beauty.

Needing to get under a blanket before she sees just how much the sight of her is affecting me, I round to my side of the bed, my arm brushing hers as I pass her, and get beneath the comforter.

I watch her still as she goes to turn off the light, then she makes her way to her side of the bed and gets in.

There.

We’ve done it.

Hurdle crossed.

Except now I want to throw my body on top of hers and rip off that t-shirt. But I don’t, because she told me she wasn’t ready, and I respect that.

But she did say that she wants to be held.

When I turn to her, she’s already facing me, already watching me.

“This is nice,” she whispers.

“I feel like you’re too far away,” I whisper back.

She huffs a laugh as she comes closer to me, until her forehead is against my chest and her arm is sliding around my waist.

“Better?”

I pull her on top of me, and she melts right into me as she always had, her body knowing exactly where to go to get comfortable. Her cheek is against my shoulder and my arms stay around her, tightly, protectively. Her knee is just above my cock, which is too hard for me to be thinking straight, but I like that her leg is slung over me, so I close my eyes and think of sick puppies and death.

“Better now,” I say, quietly, and her hand, which is lying on my bare chest, starts moving, her fingers moving in lazy circles across my skin, tracing the ink there.

“Better now,” she agrees, and kisses the base of my neck.

The simple touch has my skin feeling like it’s on fire, and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

This feels good.

Right.

Torturous.

But right.

My arm is wrapped around her, tucking her against me, my hand pressed against her lower back. I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin t-shirt and I let my fingers move as indolently as hers do.

I don’t mean to, but before I know it, my fingers are skimming over the bare skin of her back, the thin fabric of the shirt bunched up.

“Sorry,” I mutter into the darkness, trying to smooth her shirt back down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, Cass,” she whispers, breath skating over my skin. “Gwyn said physical touch was good.”

Yeah, she did, but my dick is so hard and I’m wound so tight that if Nesta all but touches it, I’m going to blow.

Dead puppies. Well done steak. Naked grandmothers.

I repeat the mantra in my head until all the blood in my body isn’t being redirected south and I can breathe without feeling like my skin is stretched too tight.

When I glance down at Nesta, I find that she’s already looking at me, a smirk on her beautiful face. “You good?”

That smirk makes me want to roll on top of her, claim that wicked mouth in a kiss that I’d trail down her body until I reached the hem of my old shirt, tugging it up to reveal—

Closing my eyes, I drag my free hand down my face. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Her soft laughter ruffles my hair and she presses another kiss to my skin, just above my collarbone. “Go to sleep.”

With another deep breath, I pull her closer against me and settle into the pillows, listening as her breathing evens out.

When I’m sure she’s well and truly asleep, I press my lips to her forehead, breathing in her honey and lilac scent, and whisper, “Goodnight, Nesta. I love you.”

I swear her body relaxes further in my arms.

#nessian #nessian bow #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #angst #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year

Text

Driving Habits -Ignihyde Edition

Can they drive? If so, what kind of drivers are they? What are their car habits?

Characters; Idia Shroud & Ortho Shroud

Content; mental health mention for Idia

Word Count; 300+

Find the Rest of the Series; Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Diasomnia

Author’s Note; As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Idia Shroud

Why drive when you can make a self-driving car? He doesn’t drive, part of the cause is due to his anxiety and self-doubt. So he has a self-driving car. The closet he’s gotten to driving is games; he still smirks at the image of Azul’s face when he blue-shelled him in Mario Kart.

He usually has ear buds in; you can find him listening to his favourite sound tracks from the games and anime that he’s watched/played lately.

He likes to keep himself busy, so he’s usually muttering to himself and tinkering with future projects. Also takes the time to talk with his online friends.

One time though, he had to take public transit and it was one of the most terrifying things he ever witnessed. There was some strange guy who was playing the saxophone. He’s just thankful he didn’t have to talk to anybody or that he was stuck next to a screaming toddler.

If worse comes to worse, he’ll just ask Ortho if he can fly them places or if he can hot wire a car for them and drive.

Ortho Shroud

He is the car /j. He knows how to drive… and hot wire a car if he can’t find the keys. Don’t ask why he knows, just don’t.

Plays the Mario Kart soundtrack, that is all he plays. Unless you’re Idia, you cannot change his music. Most guests can only survive a few songs before wanting out; rip to anyone stuck in there for hours on end.

He doesn’t have a phone (due to robot-ness) so he answers any and all texts and phone calls while driving; Ortho is the exception to the rule. He will sometimes ignore the first-year group chat though, especially if Ace is pinging for homework answers and Sebek is yelling at him.

Has a bunch of anime figurines and gifts from friends. Probably has a few bumper stickers that he either found funny or genuinely likes; Rainbow cat and the blue arson frog. Also customized the horn to different songs, just in car honking version.

Takes photos and videos of anyone who is driving dangerously. They may or may not find that their car won’t start the next day. Has yet to experience road rage, and it’s better for everyone that he doesn’t.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #idia shroud #twst idia #idia shroud headcanon #ortho shroud #twst ortho #ortho shroud headcanon #*14 hours into the car ride and all my brother has played in the mario kart sound track*#also return of the saxophone guy!!!#ortho gets to commit crimes sometimes as a treat #ignihyde headcanons

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gothamslostboy · 1 year

Note

it’s a me luigi 🧍🏻

the song request i have told you about before i forget it because i will 100% forget it tomorrow morning

the song is

be nice to me by the front bottoms!

this is kinda what i was envisioning

the lost boys x male reader

this is platonic 🫶🫶

and it just basically goes with the lyrics timelinevyknow, because the timeline is going on about a friend who’s a killer and their bestie, and just how all that is going

i think, anyways here’s an example so i hopefully make more sense

so i feel like it would be such a good fic, where the reader realizes that his friends are vamps but he can’t completely hate them. like he realizes and it’s weighing in on him like boulders, he starts to crack because there’s barely nothing of him left yknow. the boys n him have a good friendship there are certain parts that ask a lot of him like only hanging out at night so he lacks some things, but he starts spiraling?

anyways idk if the example helps or not

but no worries if you don’t wanna do this i completely get it it’s a big ask 😭 i’d write it myself but writing is very hard broski 😞

take all the time you’d need for this 🫶🫶

A/N: This song is now stuck in my head and I couldn’t be happier about it. Ugh i love how your brain works this request is so good! The examples helped immensely, they helped me come up with a lot of my own ideas haha. I’ll probably make a part two of this w/ same Reader and Dwayne at some point. thank you feardot:]

Reforging A Family

The Lost Boys x Platonic Male Reader

PAUL MARKO Y/N DAVID

———————

Y/N? Paul takes a deep sigh and leans against the cave wall. Despite his frustration, he restrains himself lashing out at me. You can’t hide there forever. Please just talk to us bud. I curl myself further into the corner of the bed, back pressed tightly onto the headboard & the cool stone wall. I know I can’t, but the only time I’ve left this spot is a couple times during the day to use the restroom, but I don’t plan on getting up again any time soon. I can see his outline through the sheer curtains, just like I can also see another figure, I’m assuming Marko, coming up behind him.

The two whisper with one another, the new figure squeezes Paul’s shoulder before motioning for him to back away. Hey bud, I’ll be back in a second ok? He waits for a second, shoulders slumping in disappointment as he walks away.

Turns out I was right, it is Marko who gently lifts up the curtain, poking his head through with a soft smile

Um, do you mind if I sit on the bed Y/N? You don’t have to speak if you’re not ready, just shake your head no. He waits a second for my reaction, lips curling up a little wider as he sits. Alright, thank you. He clears his throat and moves his gaze to his fingers, tracing the patterns on one of the blankets. This is, uh, this is a lot better than earlier, my cheeks flush in embarrassment, remembering the crunching noise of Dwayne’s foot after I pushed a barrel on it.

We sit in silence for a moment, and I realize just how bad of a shape I’m in. My throat is hoarse from screaming, my stomach hurts for food and water, yet the worst thing is that I can still feel where David had grabbed my shoulder. I’m sure that it’s bruised, maybe even worse. I don’t know what I expected them to do when I tried to run, but I didn’t try it again. I bet that I look just as bad as I feel, it’s almost humorous how there’s very little left of me right now, I feel more like a husk of my former self.

We didn’t expect you to be here when we woke up, so thanks for staying. Marko looks at me again, but I have to look away. His grins no longer appear friendly, even though I know he’s trying to be. After what I saw last night, I doubt it ever will again. I can hear Marko clear his throat, and I almost feel bad for looking away when I hear his strained voice.

I know you think we’re monsters, but can you please look at me? You’re one of my best friends, I’d never hurt you, but it’s like your changing-

My head shoots up. You say I’m changing? Sorry, didn’t know I had to stay the same after watching Dwayne rip a guy’s neck open! I’m practically yelling, but I lost my voice hours ago and all that’s left is a whisper. He’s shocked at my voice, shrinking backwards a bit before opening his mouth again. Can we talk about this later? You voice is driving me, I feel myself becoming panicked again as I rush out the last part of my sentence, driving me insane!

I regret my words almost immediately, and fight the urge to apologize as Marko stands up and leaves, stopping with his back turned to me for only a second. Yeah, I’ll uh, Paul can bring you some food and water, I’ll get Chinese. He rushes off, leaving me alone for the first time since the boys have gotten up. I’m so tired, but is it safe enough to fall asleep? Maybe their just waiting till I’m most vulnerable, but I doubt they’d need the advantage.

No body’s gonna hurt you, get some rest! David’s voice comes from the other side of the cave, much more stern than his brothers voices have been. Can he tell what I’m thinking? Has he always been able to? How mu- Yes I can, don’t over think it right now. Sleep!

A tsunami’s worth of drowsiness washes over me, and I can’t help but listen to David’s orders as I spread out, legs aching from being held up to my chest for so long.

~~~

Do we wake him up? He hasn’t eaten or drank anything in almost 24 hours. I bet he’ll- speak of the devil, I open my eyes to see three of my friends? Do I still consider them that? I’m not sure where Dwayne is, but I can’t say I’d want to see him. I basically fly back against the headboard, letting out a yelp as I feel shooting pain down my back. Damn dude, that sounded like it hurt, Paul leans towards me but is stopped by David. He hurt himself trying to get away from us, now’s not a good time to reach for him man. He nods, standing back in his place between the other two.

Oh.

Alright, it’s time to talk Y/N. You freaked last night: understandable. But you didn’t leave during the day, does that mean you still wanna hang out with us? He raises his eyebrows as he waits for me to answer, rolling his eyes at my widened eyes.

Alright dude, give us something to work with here. He lays across the foot of the bed despite Marko’s hand reaching for him, and looks at me. How many times do we need to tell you Y/N, no one is going to hurt you. We like being your friends.

It’s true bud, he hesitates for a moment before sitting on the head of the bed, giving me as much room as he could. He holds out a water bottle and I take it, pouring half of it down my throat almost instantly. You’re like our brother now. You said it yourself! He smiles, proud that he’s regained the ability to be near me. You said we’re the closest thing to a family you’ve had since moving here, we care about you! He tries to pull me into a side hug, but I shove his arm back.

But you’re a killer! The boys are silent as my cheeks become stained with tears again, giving each other looks I’m too emotional to decipher. I choke out a number of half sobs, the boys waiting quietly before I continue, my voice quieter than before. And I’m your best friend…

Hoping he can feel my wordless apology, I lean on Paul’s shoulder. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me a little tighter. Ya know I think it’s unfair, my eyebrows furrow as I look at david, but Marko is the one to answer. Your situation.

We didn’t want to tell you what we are because we knew it’d scare you. A slightly dry chuckle leaves me. Great job on that dingus! The boys seem to relax, I know Paul did because I felt his shoulder move. Hey, there’s the Y/N we know and love!

So, we’re all good now right? Paul’s face turns in front of mine, and I can’t help but focus on his teeth. I, I mean, my head drops to my knees. I love you guys, but this is- I skim through my brain, trying to find a way to explain my thoughts. We lose ya man?

I look back up and notice that Marko’s now sitting across from Paul, David’s legs draped over him. I’m in my head. It’s like I try to write you poems but the words just don’t make sense. David chuckles, odd way to phrase it but I hear you.

I think he’s really trying to help, his eyes focused on the barrel from last night, still knocked to the side. Dwayne feels horrible, he never wanted you to see him kill, especially that, he moves his head around a bit, trying to think of the right word. Enthusiastically. He’s mortified of scaring you again, so he’s out trying to give you a little bit of space. But that dude deserved to die-

People can suck, but they’re still people. I should hate you guys. Should? That means you don’t right? So let’s just forget about this.

I sit up a little straighter again, a small “thump’ as my head make contact with the wall once again. There are certain things ask of me, like forgetting about the deaths of god knows how many, and there are certain things I lack.

So don’t forget. We all look at Marko. You know we kill to survive, but you can also know we kill bad people, the people who hurt everyone else. That’s not so bad right? We’re basically just the death penalty without the wait.

I genuinely laugh, everyone else joining in. I guess that’s better than killer.

Yeah man, it’s better. So, we can start over, regain some trust? He holds out his hand, I grab it and shake it. We can regain it slowly, I think.

— TAGS —

@britany1997 @g4ywastaken

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rebouks · 2 years

Text

Previous | Next

Transcript:

Ivan: Where you at? Oscar: The Bay. Ivan: Why? T’see Ames? Oscar: No, I just felt like it.

Ivan: Oh… Are y’okay, bud? You’re not gonna disappear off on some bender, right? I don’t wanna find you-… Oscar: Fucking hell, can I not go somewhere for one day? Ivan: Alright, jesus.. I’ll stop givin’ a shit if you prefer. Oscar: [sighs] Sorry… I’m fine, I’ll be back later.

Matilda: Fancy running into you! Hah, get it? Oscar: Ugh, get the hell away from me. You’re all sweaty! Matilda: Why are you sat here wallowing? Oscar: I’m not wallowing.

Matilda: C’mon, I’ve known you for how long? You definitely are. Oscar: [big sigh] Courtney left me. Matilda: Oh, straight into it… I thought you already broke up? Oscar: Kind of, kind of.. not.

Matilda: You were always convinced she was your soulmate, or whatever. You’ll probably work it out. Oscar: She’s done waiting for me to sort my shit out. I’m worse off than where I started a year ago. Matilda: Didn’t you originally want to break it off anyway? Oscar: Only to protect her.

Matilda: So, you got what you wanted. Oscar: I guess. I always told her she’d be better off without a mess like me. Now she can move on n’ be happy with someone else... Matilda: I sense a but. Oscar: Obviously there’s a but.

Matilda: Go on then. If you’re going to vent about it, you may as well do it properly. Oscar: The thought of her moving on and having a family with someone else fucking kills me, Tilda. I want that with her, now.. years ago, whenever. But I fucking screwed everything up like I always do, and now she’s gone, and I feel like I already had my second chance, but she doesn’t understand because I can’t fucking explain, and I’m still just as stuck as I was before so I can’t even do anything, and-…

Matilda: And breathe. Oscar: You asked for it. Matilda: I don’t know what to suggest. You know I’m no good at giving advice. Oscar: You’ve not made it worse yet, so that’s a start.

Matilda: I’m sorry, Oscar. Oscar: It’s not like I expect you to fix it. Matilda: No, for everything… I know you said you were done with me, but-… Oscar: I never really follow through with that though, do I? Matilda: Still, you were right. I took advantage of you when I shouldn’t have.. y’know, last time you split up with her? I suppose it was because I was lonely too. Oscar: We’ve done it before, I made a bigger deal about it than I should have. Matilda: Don’t make excuses for me. Messing about when we were younger doesn’t count, this was different. I still regret it. Oscar: Ergh, me too. Matilda: [laughs] Shut up! Oscar: Well, look at you, owning up to your shit... Ivan told me you apologised to him too. Matilda: I tried to. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t wanna hear it, I needed him to know either way. Oscar: So, you’re not gonna try n’ weasel your way back to him this time? Matilda: No. It wouldn’t have lasted anyway; we don’t want the same things from life. Let’s face it, we just brought out the worst in each other. Oscar: It’s nice to finally see you working on yourself for a change. Matilda: Thanks… So, when’s it your turn? Oscar: [scoffs] Matilda: You’re gonna have to if you ever want to be happy. Oscar: I can’t do everything at once.

Matilda: You shouldn’t put it off for too long. Oscar: Would I even be me if I didn’t? Matilda: Hm… What would our world look like if we weren’t complete fuckups, huh? Oscar: I don’t know, but I’d like to see it one day…

#somnium #sims 4 #storytelling #ts4 story #sims story #simblr #oscar finch #matilda douglas #ivan harper #get ur reading glasses on besticles 👓#sry not sry.. it had to be done lmaoo.. this was the long post i was on about when i was ramblings

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captainnameless · 1 year

Note

Can’t stop imagining Lando calling Daniel to moan about the race and commiserate over how shit McLaren is, Lando eventually getting teary and emotional, Daniel’s heart breaking that he’s not there to comfort him in person… their reunion at Danny’s first race back (Australia?? Surely??) is gonna be an emotional one for sure !!

please, Lando’d be so worried thinking about if he could call Daniel. 🥺 deep down he knows he can, knows Daniel told him to call or text whenever wherever and he wants to, he really wants to. but he feels guilty calling, moaning about a team that didn’t give him a competitive car to the guy who was kicked to the curb by said team last year doesn’t feel very good.

His hand’s hovering above the call button for minutes, he’s going back and forth and the thoughts racing through his mind aren’t helping him think clearly. He’s curled up into the pillow of the hotelroom, the room dark apart from the light that emits from his bright phone screen.

He’s not sure if it’s divine intervention or if maybe he didn’t cancel the call quick enough for it not to go through when he accidentally pressed it, when Daniel’s name suddenly flashed up on his phone. The contactpicture is Daniel pulling a funny face back in Texas, cowboy hat still on his head. It makes his heart ache.

He answers the phone but doesn’t speak, listens to the static for a bit before Daniel’s voice sounds.

“Sup Buddy.”

Lando breathes out a loud sigh, blinking back the tears rapidly filling his eyes as he tries to say hi back. It comes out incomprehensible and probably sounds a bit pathetic. His suspicion is confirmed when Daniel’s voice goes sympathetic with his reply.

“Oh Bub, it’s alright.”

“It’s not!” At least he’s seemed to have found his voice again. Tears are free falling now and Lando scrubs at his face angrily. It’s not fair. It’s not fair he’s stuck driving a tractor for a car when he wants to give his all to this team. It’s not fair Oscar DNF’d. It’s not fair he got stuck running testing programs and pitting 5 times in the first race of the season. It’s not fair Daniel isn’t here. It’s not fair he’s alone in a hotelroom tonight.

“It’s no fair.” When he speaks he realizes Daniel’s been talking. About how there’s still so much development there’s probably still to be found, so much potential to extract and he feels even worse having Daniel try and explain to him why he should feel better about the car he’s driving when he has a seat.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, but Daniel cuts him off before he gets too far down the rabbit hole of self reproach.

“No, nuh-uh. You don’t get to be sorry for expressing your feelings, Bub.”

“But-.”

“No.” Daniel sounds firm even over the phone and Lando sniffs. “You’re allowed to be upset,” Daniel continues. “It was a shitty race for you, for the team.”

Lando manages some sort of noise of agreement, wiping at his nose. “It was.”

It’s silent for a bit, Lando breaks it.

“I miss you.”

There’s more silence before a deep sigh.

“I miss you too, Buddy. Lots.”

Lando feels like crying again, but tries his hardest to blink back the tears. “See you soon tho, right?”

“Straya, baby!” Daniel sounds cheerier, and Lando can hear the grin he must have on his face. It causes his own small smile to appear.

“Just a little wait left, we’ll have a blast, Bud!”

“I wanna hold a Koala.” Lando says. “But not the ones that give you chlamydia.”

Daniel snorts. “We can make that happen.”

#littlef1adventures #lf1a.minific

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the-himawari · 1 year

Text

A3! Minagi Tsuzuru - Translation [SR] Festival of Blooming (1/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Tsuzuru: (Me acting as Masumi… huh…) *Sigh*…

Friend A: What’s with the sigh? Is something bugging you?

Friend B: Are you stuck on a script?

Tsuzuru: Nah, it’s just… well, you aren’t wrong. (Acting as Masumi is going to be a tough task in more ways than one…) (You think of Director when you say Masumi, huh?) (I mean, I can imitate him a little if I try hard enough. But actually acting as him is a high hurdle…) (I’m an actor though. I’ve played roles that are far removed from myself before.) (Let’s imagine for a second…)

*imagination starts*

Tsuzuru: Director… I like you. Marry me. If it’s for you, I can do my best. I love you.

*imagination ends*

Tsuzuru: God, help me~…

Friend A: Hey, you okay there, bud?

-pause-

Chikage: Thank you for waiting.

Tsuzuru: Sorry, I know you’re busy and all.

Chikage: Don’t worry about it. You said you wanted me to teach you magic? Is this for work or something?

Tsuzuru: No… it’s about that assignment we got from Director and Yukio-san. I have to act as Masumi.

Chikage: Oh, yes. The one where we’re supposed to play our roommates?

Tsuzuru: Whenever I think about how I should go about playing Masumi, the way he expresses his feelings straight to Director comes to mind… I think that’s Masumi’s character, for better or for worse. Although… he’s calmed down quite a bit these days.

Chikage: That’s true.

Tsuzuru: So, I thought I’d act as Masumi when he interacts with Director… But it’d be a bit tough acting like that on stage, let alone in front of the guy himself. That being said, I thought if I put some effort in, I could show how Masumi works to hard to show magic tricks to Director…

Chikage: Is that why you asked me for a favour?

Tsuzuru: You’re Masumi’s magic teacher, after all.

Chikage: If that’s how it is, I’ll help you.

Tsuzuru: Thank you very much!

-pause-

Tsuzuru: I-I think I got it…

Chikage: Now all you need is practise. That trick I just showed you was one of the very first ones I taught Masumi.

Tsuzuru: You mean during our Oz play?

Chikage: Before I joined the company, I only knew how Masumi was on stage. It was a little surprising and unexpected when I saw how he was towards Director. I got the strong impression that Masumi was a skillful and cool young man. Of course, I wasn’t mistaken about that Masumi either. Both are different aspects of Masumi.

Tsuzuru: —. I thought I knew that, but when it comes to Masumi, how he keeps confessing to Director isn’t all there is to him…

Chikage: …Why don’t you think it over some more? If it’s you, then I’m sure you know a Masumi that you can play best.

Tsuzuru: I think you’re right. I’ll give it some thought!

Chikage: Since we’re here, I’ll give this sponge to you. You might be able to find some use for it.

Tsuzuru: Thank you.

---

| next

#a3!#a3! translation #minagi tsuzuru #act! addict! actors!#THANK YOU GACHA GODS #I WANTED TO READ THIS STORY SO BAD #also i am continuing to yell from the rooftops about how chikage and masumi are such an underrated duo #they actually understand and respect each other so much #CHIKAGE ACCEPTS AND SUPPORTS MASUMI SO MUCH #/HEAD IN HANDS #MASUMI ACTUALLY RESPECTS CHIKAGE AND GENUINELY LOOKS UP TO HIM AS A MENTOR #AND CHIKAGE HAS ALWAYS SUPPORTED MASUMI AND THINKS HIS LOVE IS A WONDERFUL THING TO BE CHERISHED #IN THIS ESSAY I'LL--

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radamazard · 2 years

Text

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 6 - Entropy

---------------------

Krook House QueerPlatonic Polycule - Modern Human AU

(Okay, so I was super stuck on this for a whileeeee. For the life of me I just couldn't think of anything for entropy… except for the MLP fan song for Discord. Soooo you're getting that. The song’s a bop anyway~

Also, I've decided now that any Modern Human AU I write for this is just a prototype for the biiiig Bells Hells / Crown Keepers Modern Human AU that I wanna write. It's good practice to get used to writing them all human and outta the canon universe~

Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!)

“You tried so hard to make a hero outta me, but there are some rules I don't obey… and I just wanna cause a little chaos and entropy~♪”

Fuck, now it was gonna be stuck in his head for WEEKS. Everyone knew that when you started singing the damn song absentmindedly, that it meant you were bound to have it bore into your brain and hibernate there for the next fortnight and a half at LEAST.

Which was gonna be hellish, but hey, it could have been worse. Anni could have heard hi-

“Fuckin’ knew it was you!”

Speak of the devil. Or in this case one of his ‘beloved’ partners, who right now seemed to be screaming to be thrown out a window. Defenestrated, if they wanted to get fancy and earn a few brownie points from Letters. ‘Learning is always important!’ after all.

“Do we gotta do this shi-”

“dO wE gOtTa DO tHiS sHiT~? Fuck yes we gotta, I heard your ass singing pony shit, and it's my duty and right to tease the ever loving fuck outta ya!” Anni grinned, the edges of it taking on just a hint of malice, yet only a teasing way. As much as the two bickered and bitched about one another, there was a lotta love there, and neither of them actually wished any harm on the other… nor would they wanna cause it.

Teasing and being a casual dick though? That was fair game.

“When a track slaps, it slaps. I don't control the rate at which shit slaps, An,” Ashton argued in turn, and ignored the pointed eye roll he received in turn. Hey, if she wanted to fight them on this then she'd have to do all the heavy lifting.

“Maybe, but you DO have enough of a brain left in there to still have good taste, right?”

“Low blow,”

“No lower than your shit taste in music.”

“Least it ain't as low as your taste bud count. Lemon juice on spaghetti o’s? What the actual fuck?”

“Fuck you! You’ve just got the taste buds of a five year old!”

“Better the taste buds than the IQ.”

“You callin’ me a dumb bitch?”

“Never a bitch! I'm a fuckin’ gentleman, Anni, you think I'd stoop that low? Am calling you dumb though.”

“Get fucked you sparkle horse loving cu-”

“What are you two fighting about this time?”

Both Anni and Ashton froze, already feeling the disapproving gazes of their partners upon them. Getting the look from just one of them was bad enough, but having both Letters and Milo stare at you like that had a certain silencing effect.

Especially when it was mixed with Milo’s rare ‘what the fuck is pulling me from my work’ tone of voice.

“Anni’s calling me a loser for liking pony songs, like the elitist prick musician she is.”

“Get stuffed!”

“With you? Nah. Gross.”

“I'd be offended if that feeling wasn't fully shared. Cause yeah. Gross.”

“... Is there something wrong with liking My Little Pony?”

Never had Anni gone from being a smug ass bitch to horrifically regretful so fast. The woman may have claimed to the world that nothing would ever make her take back anything she said, but one sad look from Letters… Man, the guilt had rarely kicked in so fast.

“Fuck. No… I was just-” Anni cringed, looking between Milo and Ashton for support. The former raised a brow at her from behind their coke bottle glasses, a hand now balanced upon their hip in a way that just screamed ‘You dug your own grave, find a way out.’

The latter brushed past her, coming to kneel beside Fresh Cut Grass’ wheelchair with only a slight wince of pain. He laid a hand over FCG’s own and offered it a reassuringly squeeze.

“Nah. The ponies are fine by me. And hey, Anni likes The Batchelor, so maybe she should shut the fuck up.”

“The Batchelor is a god damned mas- Right, fuck. Apologies.”

Anni had the decency to look guilty at least, kicking her heels as she gnawed at her lip anxiously. Apologies had never been her strong suit. Nor had any kind of intimacy. But for her partners she was willing to try. They deserved at least that.

“... Sorry. I was bein’ an ass. Just wanted to rile Ash up and didn't think shit through. You're free to like whatever the fuck you like. Cringe is dead and Ash and I personally shanked that bitch! It's flne for ya to like the pastel horses. But you ain't ever getting me to watch it, okay? I’d rather choke to death on actual horse cock,”

“Stunning visuals there as always, Anni.” Milo sighed.

“What can I say? I live to displease~”

“... Thanks, Anni. And Ashton,” FCG uttered quietly, smiling a little as they watched Anni’s cheeks burn and cough into her hand awkwardly. “Oh! What was the song you were singing, by the way? Let me guess!! Smile? No… I'm thinking it was a fan song, right? Oh! I know! Is it the one I showed you last night? Entropy?”

“Damn right it was Entropy! The fuckin’ thing is STILL in my head!”

Letters laughed, the sound as brightly infectious as ever. There was a round of chuckles and snickers, and by the time they all wandered off to do their own things each and every one of them was wearing a smile.

Damn was their good mood contagious.

Just like that dang song.

#Dungeons & Drabbles #DrabbleWRIMO #Critical Role #Ashton Greymoore #Anni Aughta #Milo Krook #FCG #queerplatonic #poly relationship #FCG/Ashton/Anni/Milo #Modern Human AU #Krook House #Day 6 - Entropy #Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

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teachablemomentsblog · 1 year

Text

Heart Map: The IHOP Story - An Alexa Addendum (Part Two)

"Just be on standby, man..."

It was already close to dark by the time we made it to the park. Instead of a typical park with a playground and picnic tables, she had navigated me to a cul-de-sac far off the main road with a handful of dark houses and not much else.

“This doesn’t seem like a park…?”

“Oh, it’s right over that hill,” she said and pointed to an empty plot of land. “This is where he always goes to ‘hang out’ with his friends. I know they’re smoking.”

As I put the car into park, she jumped out and hobbled her way to the sidewalk.

“Hey! Do you need your walker?”

“No, I’m fine!” she hissed, clearly annoyed I had talked so loud and possibly given up her element of surprise. I watched her scuttle away into the darkness.

Well, crap. Now what do I do? She told me I just had to drop her off and I could get the hell out of there. But, instead, she left me, stuck, in the dark, in my Sunfire, waiting on a girl I hadn’t seen in months, while her walker sat in my trunk. I had nothing else to do but sit there. And call Bryce.

After I explained my current situation, and his ensuing fits of justifiable laughter, I saw Alexa slowly materialize from the shadows.

“Just be on standby, man.” I told him and hung up.

I hadn’t noticed while I spoke with Bryce that when she appeared, she wasn’t alone. Yay! She brought up her boyfriend Jason! Within two seconds of seeing him, I already knew we wouldn’t get along. And no, not just because he was dating Alexa either. He walked up, covered from head-to-toe in designer clothing. His Hollister pants hung below his butt and clung onto his hips with a large, shiny belt buckle. His haircut looked obviously expensive, but sat meticulously unkempt to look like he didn’t care. Just by looking at him, his whole vibe already exhausted me.

To make matters worse, or better, depending on how you looked at it, Jason and Alexa clung to each other as they walked up the hill. And in his hand...Weed. The thing Alexa hoped to catch him doing. Caught him! There he is! With weed!

“Hey, Gannon, this is Jason. Jason, this is Gannon.”

“Sup.”

“Yeah, hey.”

Clearly impressed by our budding friendship, Alexa chimed in. “So, hey, we were gonna go back down into the park and hang out do you want to come?”

No! No way! I’m out of here! This is ridiculous! What the hell are we even doing here? What am I doing here? Leave me alone and never talk to me again!

“Um, yeah. Okay, sure!”

Ugh.

The three of us walked back down the hill to a dilapidated wooden bench nestled among the trees. On the far bench, directly behind a looming oak, sat Jason’s friend...Chad? I gathered in my surroundings. This wasn’t a park. This was barely a place to sit. Alexa, Jason, and Chad passed the weed back and forth between them.

“Hey man, you want some?”

“Um, yeah, no, that’s okay. Thanks though.”

I couldn’t begin to describe the details of our conversation. I could only think about finding a way out of this situation. Hmm...Bryce! Bingo!

One of the nicer features about having a best friend for such a long time, beyond the obvious positives, is that we have had so many experiences together and know each other so well that, by this point in our friendship, we had developed systems to help each other in dire moments such as this. One of our favorite systems we put in place has saved both of us more than once. We call it, “The Distress Signal”. It’s sad how often it has come in handy.

How it works: One of us sends a text message to the other saying “CALL ME”. Automatically, the other person knows that we must be caught in a socially unbearable situation. One in which we desperately need assistance. Like, for example, when you’re with an ex-girlfriend you haven’t seen in years and her current boyfriend smoking weed on a bench in the middle of the night, even though she apparently has a big issue with him smoking weed. This situation would constitute a need for this. Then, whenever the texted friend actually calls, the socially imprisoned friend makes a big deal about this extremely important call and leaves! It’s that simple!

From: Gannon Rust

To: Bryce Waterson

Text: CALL ME!

Thankfully, I already had Bryce on standby. But, even if I hadn’t, he responds much more efficiently than I do in these situations. (Sorry, man.) He called right away. After I answered, I gave it a few seconds to allow for believable distress.

“Oh, man! I’m sorry. I’ve really got to take this.”

I quickly rushed up the hill towards my car.

“Dude, this has been awful. I have to get the hell out of here.”

I jumped in the driver’s seat, turned the ignition on and almost left when, all of a sudden, it hit me. The walker. It was still wedged in my trunk.

“Dude, what do I do? I can’t just take it with me! But I don’t want to have to see her again. And I sure as hell don’t want to take it back down there. No way.”

“Can they see you?”

“No.”

“Dude, just dump it! She knew what she was doing leaving it in the trunk. Just take it out and leave it on the curb or something.”

I ran through my options. Taking it with me sounded nauseating. Taking it back down the hill to her and her pot-smoking boyfriend also didn’t garner much favor in my mind. That left me with one other option (even though more noble options were probably still available). In my mind, at the time, I had no other choice.

“You’re right. I have to leave it.”

I popped my trunk and found the walker woven with my jumper cables. Great. One of the tennis balls from one of its legs had also fallen off. Even better. I wrestled it out of my car, popped it open, and almost made it to the curb when I heard laughter emanating from over the hill. Oh god, I could not get caught dumping her walker and leaving. So, I did what any mature individual would do. I chucked the walker into the street, hopped into my car, and left! (Here too, there may have been other, more noble choices on how to handle this situation.)

Unfortunately, this story didn’t have quite as dramatic of a finish. I sent her a text letting her know I had an “emergency” and she never responded. We didn’t talk for YEARS and when we did, she had married, had multiple kids and was completely different.

When we talked again after IHOP and the walker incident, I told her what an impression it had made on me. She told me she barely remembered either one of these moments.

“I was always so messed up and on something that I don’t remember much of anything from that time in my life. I went to rehab over it for a long time. I grew up. I had kids, who I love. I got my life together.”

And I’m happy for her. So, even though they make for good stories, I’m glad to know they are left as that, just stories of teenagers being teenagers. My students always ask if I’m still mad about everything that happened. Actually no, not at all. Quite the opposite. I’m glad I have those moments. It helped define who I am today and decide who I wanted to be and what was important in my significant other. So, even though these may have been terrible, seemingly heart-wrenching moments for me at the time, they helped shape me through the conflict of the experience.

My Teachable Moments

The whole experience with Alexa helped me understand how to not hold onto terrible moments. Even though at the time I felt awful, I hold no remorse towards her and actually enjoy having these moments to pass down to my students. Some people let some of these terrible things (not saying they aren’t terrible) shape the rest of their life and how they handle themselves. Just learn from them and move on. No need to hold a grudge.

Don’t piss off your neighbors. Maybe that’s mean. But, seriously, what could she have done to make him run her over with his car twice?! I mean she did some pretty terrible things to me and even I never had the moment where I contemplated, “Hmm...maybe I should just hit her with my car…” So...yeah...stay on your neighbors’ good side!

#education #teaching #students #learning #life lessons #mindset #bad dates #covid 19 #covid pandemic #myspace #cringe #awkward #funny

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imthepunchlord · 2 years

Text

Miracurse: The Nooroo Effect

The waiting was the worst.

After a vague threat from his father, Adrien found himself alone in his room, feeling anxious over the unknown. What was his father going to do? What was his father going to say?

And it wasn’t something Adrien could easily fix.

He had no idea where the book went.

He had no idea what happened to it.

He didn’t even know what he can do with the directed blame. He had no way to fix this outside a verbal apology. He was officially stuck. He was grounded. His father was going to hold this over him and he--

A knock at the door interrupted his inner panic, and he jolted at the sound. “C-come in,” he called, standing up to face his fate.

He wouldn’t look his father in the eye as Gabriel approached him, not daring to meet the heavy stare set upon him.

“Adrien.”

He winced. “Father,” he mumbled.

“I’ve had time to calm down. And to think about this.”

Adrien braced himself.

“I will let this go,” Gabriel said, “but from hence forth, if you are curious or concerned, I’d rather you come to ask me.”

Adrien’s eyes shot open, and he looked up at his father in surprise. His father gazed back down neutrally, not responding to his son's clear shock.

Tentatively, Adrien asked, "So, you're not punishing me?"

"You regret your actions," Gabriel said with a small shrug. "There's no need to push things further."

"So, I'll still be able to go to school?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Father!" Adrien rushed forward to hug his father, feeling him jump in surprise, then realized what he did and quickly withdrew, promising, "I'll try and find your book--"

"That isn't necessary."

Adrien paused, surprised. “R-really?”

“I wasn’t supposed to have that book anyway,” Gabriel said. "It’s for the better to not be here.” Before Adrien could ask more, Gabriel set a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, bidding, “Prepare for school. Your lunch period ended a while ago, didn’t it?”

Adrien jolted. “You’re right! I’ll-I’ll get ready right away! Uh, thank you father! I’ll uh, I’ll see you later?”

Gabriel actually offered him a smile. “Yes. For dinner.”

Adrien’s jaw went slack.

Gabriel turned and headed out, bidding before he left, “Have a good day at school, Adrien.” As the door closed behind him, Adrien was left gaping in awe.

In his stupor, he didn’t notice Plagg zipping out, quick to tail Gabriel in the hallway.

Gabriel didn’t get far as he stopped, greeting to the air, “It’s been a long time, Plagg. I wondered if you were here.”

“So Gabriel DID have you!” Plagg zipped up, looking over the kwami possessed human. “You finally had enough of him to allow this?”

“He was going to hurt his son out of sheer spite,” Gabriel revealed with a grimace, continuing on, motioning Plagg to follow. “What kwami would I be if I just allowed it?”

“Well, you could’ve allowed this to happen sooner,” Plagg said, only to pause when Gabriel gave him a look.

“What?”

“What about you and Adrien?” Gabriel asked, “The boy lacks empathy. And his pride is growing from his own desperation and loneliness. He’s not down a dark path yet, but if it continues--”

“Nothing drastic will happen,” Plagg dismissed. “Especially now that you got his body. I’ll take that brooch--”

“No,” Gabriel said.

“Nooroo.”

“It is dictated that the cursed are given a chance of redemption, but while they are cursed, their body can’t go unattended. Life must go on. I have a duty to live his life until he can properly live it himself.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll let the old man know then.”

“And when you go, let him know about Duusu.”

Plagg jolted. “Duusu IS here?”

“Damaged, but here.”

In Gabriel’s office, the kwami possessed human opened up his safe, picking up the peacock pin. “There is another soul here that is in need of redemption. I intend to use Duusu to nip that bud before she gets worse.”

“Eeeh, he’s not really going to like that,” Plagg warned.

“I’ll deal with it when I get there,” Gabriel assured, closing up the safe. “Return to your boy, he’s about to leave and he will wonder about you missing.”

“Alright,” Plagg withdrew, but paused enough to glance back Gabriel. “I hope you know what you’re doing. That’s a bit of a dangerous game.”

“I am one of the kwamis of chaos,” Gabriel said, “my actions will always be a bit dangerous.”

#Punchie writes #ml fic #miracurse #nooroo #plagg #gabriel agreste #adrien agreste #canon divergence

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dudeandduchess · 3 years

Note

Love your writing! Can we get a history teacher AU? Maybe with some NSFW 👀 fellow teacher y/n always had the hots for Rengoku-sensei but never had the courage to say anything until one day, on his birthday, she finds him alone grading papers and everything just comes out

Hope you’re doing well!

Hey, bby! I’m doing well. Hope you like this one. ❤️‍🔥

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: After School Hours (Smut, Modern AU, NSFW Scenario)

Warnings: Smut, Semi-Public Sex (Library), Clothed Sex, Birthday Sex, Food Play (Body Icing)

Read part 2 here.

***

(Y/n)’s hands were so shaky as she tried her best to get herself from the faculty room, down to the library on the second floor. To say that she was frazzled and nervous would have been an understatement, as she had chosen that day to finally confess her feelings to the enigmatic History teacher— Rengoku Kyōjurō.

She had always harbored feelings for the blond, ever since she had first started at the academy. And even though the other teachers always kept teasing them about being too close to each other— as well as the other women telling her that he liked her— she still held on to the possibility that they were wrong.

After all, it was better to expect the worst; so that she wouldn’t be that disappointed when she received the truth.

The closer that she got to the library, however, the harder that her heart began to pound in her chest. And the more that she began to think that she shouldn’t be so bold.

She had even thought to turn back immediately, only to be plagued by thoughts of her regrets haunting her once she got home. (Y/n) didn’t want all of the ‘what-ifs’ from this one choice to haunt her forever.

After all, the worst that he could do was to thank her and give her a friendly hug.

At that thought, she quickly shook her head— clearing the worst case scenario from her mind— before pushing her legs to walk faster to the empty library.

She only knew that it was empty after having seen Kyōjurō stay there after class on most days. He would grade papers until the school closed down, instead of taking his work home with him.

And after asking him once why he preferred the library, he told her that it was the perfect place to do work; all because the students who did have tiny crushes on him never thought to check for him all the way at the back of the place.

‘Oh gods, I may just be worse than those students,’ (Y/n) thought in a panic, almost dropping the cupcake in her hands. But she managed to right herself at the last second, taking a deep breath in through her nose and exhaling it from her mouth.

“Okay, calm down, (Y/n).” The young woman tried to soothe herself, even going as far as to close her eyes for a brief moment, before stepping inside the library as quietly as she could.

One foot in front of the other— she kept making her legs move, until she was at the end of the aisle that led to the tables at the back of the library.

And right there, in all his handsome glory, was Kyōjurō— pen being twirled between his fingers, and eyes focused solely on the paper in his left hand.

Gingerly, (Y/n) fished the lighter from her skirt’s pocket and lit the tiny candle that she had stuck in the middle of the cupcake; one she’d baked the night before, and decorated with so many intricate designs— all for him.

“Rengoku-sensei,” She called softly, her voice even cracking at his name. Yet it had the blond looking up at her— eyes widening a fraction of an inch, while his lips curled up at the corners.

Kyōjurō felt absolutely flustered.

Especially when (Y/n) walked forward with the cupcake, eyes solely on him to block out the nerves that were trying to consume her.

Thankfully for her, he met her halfway; standing right in front of her, and turning all of his attention towards the woman who made his heart race— in the best way.

“Happy birthday, I baked it just for you,” (Y/n) managed to breathe out softly, before holding it up a little higher for him.

And her heart almost leapt out of her chest when Kyōjurō reached out with his right hand and gently wrapped it around her wrist— holding her shaky hands steady, as he leaned in and blew the candle out.

“Thank you, (Y/n)-sensei. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me,” Kyōjurō stated with a grin, even as his eyes momentarily flickered down to his co-teacher’s plump lips.

He was naught to admit it, but he had racked up so many nights just fantasizing about those lips on him; on any part of his body.

At first it had started as a simple crush for him, but it had evolved into something else; something much deeper than simple attraction. However, what the other male teachers had told him was that she already had someone she liked, so he had held himself back from confessing his own feelings.

Which was a surprise that she even sought him out on his birthday, when he fully expected her to have gone home with everyone else— as he wanted to finish work before celebrating with his family.

“I wanted to…” (Y/n) answered quietly, before swallowing past the lump in her throat and coming out with it. “Because I like you, Rengoku-sensei. I like you so much that I can’t get you out of my mind- and I- just… I want you!”

Mortified couldn’t even begin to describe just how (Y/n) felt at that botched confession. She could even feel her shame washing over her in waves; making her face and ears red, especially when she looked up and saw nothing but surprise on Kyōjurō’s face.

Instead of pushing her away like she had expected, the blond calmly took the cupcake from her hands and set it down on the table. All before closing the space between them, and staring right at her.

If she were to be honest, she would say that he looked a little… excited.

Gone was his exuberant attitude, and in its place came something much more attractive; a million times sexier than his usual persona.

“That’s great, (Y/n)-s… chan. Because I like you too… and I want you just as bad.” Kyōjurō finally admitted, feeling his own pulse racing as he gently cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to press his lips to hers.

When (Y/n) didn’t try to pull away from him, Kyōjurō decided to be a little more liberal with his touches; pulling her flush against his chest, before awkwardly spinning both of them around, so that he could sit her down on the table.

Thankfully, they had missed the cupcake entirely. Because a lightbulb just went on in his head, as he gently wedged himself between her thighs and began to caress her soft skin.

With every pass of his hands up her thighs, he pushed the hem of her skirt up little by little— making no effort to hide what his intentions were.

“I’ve always liked you, (Y/n).” A gentle kiss to her lips, before dragging his lips down to her neck and sucking on it. “And I’m so happy that you have the same feelings.”

If it was any other woman, Kyōjurō never would have touched them. But it was (Y/n), and he had been holding himself back for two years; that alone was torture for him, so he couldn’t keep himself from indulging in her immediately.

Before either of them could comprehend it, (Y/n) was already on her back on the table, with Kyōjurō kissing down her exposed chest and his fingers circling around her clit.

All the while, (Y/n) was in such bliss that she couldn’t even muster up any coherent thoughts. All she could do was moan and mewl as Kyōjurō kissed her all over.

When he pulled away for a bit, however, she was brought back to reality; keen eyes solely on him, as he reached over and swiped a little bit of the cupcake’s icing on his index finger.

Initially, she thought that it was weird for him to stop for a taste of that, until she realized his plan when he dabbed the icing on both of her nipples.

It was a little bit warm, but it was made all the warmer when Kyōjurō wrapped his lips around her right nipple; licking and sucking on the hard bud, while his index finger circled and teased the other one.

“Rengoku-sensei!” The young woman moaned out, one hand delving into his hair and curling into the soft strands. But Kyōjurō didn’t relent; not until her back was arching and her legs were wrapped around his hips.

It was obvious that she was cumming, and it gave Kyōjurō an all-time high at feeling her come apart beneath him. Especially since he wasn’t even inside her yet.

When she was calm and spent beneath him, the blond pulled away from her right nipple— making quick work of licking her left nipple clean— before pecking her lips.

“Do you want more, (Y/n)?” He asked with a grin, feeling his cock throb in his pants at how beautiful she looked post-orgasm.

He expected her to refuse, but was pleasantly surprised when she shook her head. “Please give me more.”

“Good girl.” The praise had just slipped out and made his lips tingle, but he paid it no mind as he quickly undid his belt and pants to pull his cock out.

Then, as gently as he could, he pulled her ass to the end of the table before pushing her skirt up all the way; groaning aloud at the sight of her panties being so soaked with her cum.

What made it better for him, however, was the fact that she was wearing red lace. As if she had worn it just for him.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it though— cock twitching with need, as he fully pushed the crotch of her panties aside and rubbed the tip of his dick up and down her slit.

“Please, sensei, no more teasing,” (Y/n) whined quietly, which only spurred Kyōjurō to give in to her.

So, slowly, he dragged the head of his cock all the way to her entrance and pushed inside her tight cunt. He almost buckled at how heavenly she felt around him, but held firmly to her hips before bottoming out in her.

His pace was gentle at first, getting her used to how thick he was, before beginning to really pound her against the table. He pushed in hard and fast, milking his own pleasure and adding to it by watching her expressions.

Because, it was guaranteed, that his current reality was better than all of his fantasies combined.

And it was made all the better with how he watched (Y/n) lose control— especially when he lifted her legs up onto his shoulders and held on tight to her ankles.

He just hoped that marks wouldn’t show up later, since he still had plans for both of them; mainly taking her home to meet his family.

***

BONUS:

After everything was said and done, with Kyōjurō’s cum slowly trickling out from (Y/n)’s cunt, he pulled her up to his chest— hugging her tight and pressing butterfly kisses to her neck. “You should get dressed, (Y/n). We have to go home with me.”

“But… why?” The young woman was confused, but she was too boneless after getting thoroughly fucked that her question fell flat.

“So that my family can meet my girlfriend, of course.”

“What? We just- I’m- Rengoku-sensei!” That had pulled (Y/n) out of her stupor immediately. Then, she hissed at him, “I’m still full of your cum! I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“I can lick it clean for you.” Kyōjurō was joking, he really was… at least at first. But he thought that eating her out wouldn’t be so bad. So, they stayed just a little bit longer in the library; much to (Y/n)’s chagrin.

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou scenario #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kny imagines #demon slayer

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Little Bones 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control, violence, threats.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Here’s the finale for Thor’s part in our Birch story! Yay! But is it yay? We never known with his BDE (Big Doofus Energy). But anyway, here we go.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 7: Baby, eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones

The morning light was pale as it slipped in between the curtains and sent a shiver through you as an immovable warmth blazed against your back and clung to your body. The night ended as well as it could have, which was poorly. Your drunken outburst settled in your gut in sour alcoholic regret.

You shifted your legs, thighs tender from the last of Thor’s irritation, and carefully sat up so that his arm fell away from you. He grumbled and rolled onto his side as he tickled your spine.

“Where’re you going?” he asked groggily.

“Coffee,” you said curtly as you touched your forehead.

“Mmmm,” he hummed and the bed creaked as he turned flat onto his back and stretched.

You stood and went to your dresser. You pulled out a night shirt and swooped it over your head, your head pulsing with your unthinking excess. You glanced back at Thor, his thick torso naked above the messy blankets as he laid with his eyes shut and arms wide. His blonde hair fanned out around his head as his chest rose and fell steadily.

You left him and went to the kitchen, tiles cool beneath your feet and the air toasty as the radiator sent off waves of stolid heat. You measured the coffee and fed the machine water. You tiptoed into the hallway and took your purse from the shoe rack and searched out your emergency bottle of Advil. You swallowed them dry and went back to stand at the counter and listen to the grind.

You watched the trickle of the dark brew as it began to spit into the pot. You hung your head and leaned on the linoleum top, fingers tapping as the stream continued. You heard his yawn and his footsteps on the hardwood before they met the tile. You didn’t bother to look over and instead opened the cupboard to pull out a mug.

As you set it down, Thor came up behind you and reached to grab one of his own. He held himself flush to your back as the porcelain clinked down beside your own and he pressed against you until your hips were at the counter. You sighed and focused on the trickle of coffee.

He hummed and nuzzled your head as he drew a hand back to feel along your thigh. He brushed his fingertips over your ass and squeezed.

“Please, I’m hungover,” you moaned, “I just want coffee--”

“I’ll be gentle,” he cooed, “besides what better to relieve some tension?”

“Don’t you ever have enough?” you scowled as he lifted your night shirt and gripped your hips, fingers tracing the line of your curves.

“Of you? Never,” he said, “last night… you know I like your teeth, kitten, but there is a time for them to come out. That wasn’t it.”

“What do you want from me?” you gritted your teeth as he continued to feel you up. You realised as his arousal grazed your ass that he was still naked, “why can’t you stop? I never wanted--”

“I’m good to you, kitten,” he intoned, “a man like me, we aren’t nice too many.”

“Nice? Is that what--”

“You goad me,” his voice deepened as he pushed his hand between your legs, “you walk a very thin line, kitten. I’d as soon grab you by the scruff.”

He bent and dragged his lips along your neck as he spread your cunt and flicked his middle finger along your clit. You hissed and gripped the counter. His touch rippled through you and you closed your eyes in futile resistance.

“But I pet you nice,” he coaxed, “don’t I?”

“Thor--”

“Mmm, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” he grazed your skin with his teeth and nipped.

You held your breath as he added another finger and played with you. You still felt the night before but the new sensations dulled the lingering ache. You quivered as he slid further back and teased your entrance, rocking his hips so that his hardness rubbed against you firmly.

You tensed as he poked a finger inside of you then another. He sank down to his knuckles and curled them, his hand against your clit as he squeezed. His hot breath seeped below your shirt as you own hitched. He shoved another finger into you and you gulped as he stretched you.

You heard how wet you were as your walls clenched him hungrily. You hated that your body responded to him so eagerly even as that voice in the back of your head kept whispering back at you to stop.

He urged you back against him and tilted your pelvis, his other hand kneading the flesh along your thigh. He trailed around your ass and stroked himself as he angled his tip along your cheeks and bent his knees to poke against his fingers.

He slid his fingers out of you and kept them on your clit as he pressed his cock along your entrance. He eased into you slowly as he drew circles around your bud. You trembled and bit your lip as you hung your head and he bit into your shoulder as he sank to his limit.

He rocked slowly as the coil twisted around his fingertips and your walls clung to him. You spread your hands flat on the counter as he moved you against it, hips hitting the curled edge of the linoleum.

Your helplessness turned into desperation to get off. You leaned back into him as you stood on your toes, back arching as you welcomed each cloying thrust of his hips. Your voice fluttered from you and echoed in your head. You muffled yourself with your palm and he tore your hand away.

He swirled his fingers faster and you breathed through your nose as you held in the rising glee. You growled as you came, legs shaking and cunt gripping him tightly. He took your orgasm as a cue and sped up, the impact of your hips growing painful against the counter.

You felt another climax about to erupt inside of you but your nerves spiked in another way as an unexpected knock sounded. Thor grunted but never wavered as he kept fucking you. He snaked his thick arm around your neck and forced you against him entirely, nearly taking you off your feet as his other hand stayed between your legs.

The knock came again, louder and impatient. Thor’s bicep pressed to your throat as your head lolled along his shoulder. He growled and his flesh slapped harder against yours as he chased his own release. Tap, tap, tap.

“One second!” he called to the door and choked on his voice.

He rammed into you hard and you felt the sudden flow inside of you. He didn’t slow as he coated your walls, not until he was spent and oversensitive. He shuddered as the knocking became constant and he let you slump against the counter as he slipped out of you. He inhaled sharply as it made him wince and he slapped your ass.

“We have company,” he said as he grabbed the paper towel and wiped himself off.

He turned away and tossed the crumpled rectangle into the bin. You watched him stomp through the living room and curve back around to the door as he snatched up a throw to knit around his waist. You squeezed your thighs together and pulled down your night shirt as he turned the latch. You focused on pouring your coffee as shame bubbled in your chest.

“If it wasn’t snowing, I wouldn’t have waited so long,” Loki complained as Thor opened the door.

“It wasn’t that long,” Thor grumbled, “what is it?”

“You asked me to come here first thing. Do you not remember, brother?” Loki snipped and you sensed him peeking over at you, “though I might understand why your mind wandered.”

“I recall,” Thor swept back into the living room as Loki stepped out of his boots.

“Good morning,” he slithered and you looked over at him.

“Coffee?” you asked as you held up the carafe.

“I prefer tea but thank you,” he continued on after his brother and you huffed quietly.

You put the pot back on the burner and slowly parted your legs. You ripped off some paper towel and wiped away the cum before it grew sticky on your skin. You quivered as you brushed your sensitive cunt and did your best to clean up.

You took your mug and sneaked out of the kitchen and down the hall as you heard the men’s voices. You didn’t so much as look at them as you escaped to your room. You kept the door open a crack as you searched out some clothes and flung them on the bed.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps you wouldn’t have to remain,” Loki ventured, “your organization will need you back as soon as this snow clears.”

“You hate this place,” Thor argued, “so why--”

“I hate your little band of brutes worse,” Loki interrupted, “besides, you’ve done what you needed. You’ve come to agreement with the locals and now you can be off to your usual… affairs.”

“And what about yours?”

“My business has always been cleaning up after you. You will need one here with the acumen to secure the deal and all its complex facets.”

“These men don’t sign contracts,” Thor scoffed.

“That is not what I mean. You know my skills beyond legal tedium,” he replied, “you are far too distracted to see to it all yourself.”

“Hmmm,” Thor hummed and silence rose.

You took a gulp of coffee and clunked the cup down. You grabbed your clothes and hurried across to the bathroom and shut yourself in. You rinsed yourself with tap water before you dressed and listened again as their tones drifted through the small apartment.

“I suppose you make sense,” Thor conceded, “Heimdall hasn’t stopped calling these last days, or at least, I think. The service here… but I should be back.”

“Father, too,” Loki added.

“Father, too,” Thor agreed, “well, let us hope this storm passes soon.”

You emerged from the bathroom and crept down the hall. Loki stood as you looked into the living room and checked his silver watch. “I will leave you to your… recreation,” he smirked at you as he raised his chin, “but I will make arrangements for my prolonged stay as you ready for your departure.”

Thor nodded and waved him away. He leaned on his elbow as he rested his chin on his knuckles and Loki sent you another grin before he strode away. He pulled on his boots and left with a lilted “goodbye” to both of you.

You waited as the conversation replayed in your head. He was leaving. At last. You struggled not to smile and instead neared and took Loki’s former spot in the slouchy chair.

“You heard all that?” he asked the redundant question. You nodded and his blue eyes flicked out the window. “Well, we’ve got some packing to do.”

“We?” you echoed, “I… what?”

“You think I would leave you here?” his mouth curved, “kitten, this little town isn’t our end. It’s our beginning.”

“I can’t just leave. I have a job, I have an apartment, and--”

“And? You can have all those things if you come with me. Better even. We have a national archive, I know one of the curators, and I think you’ll like my place--”

“I’m not going with you,” you interrupted, “you’ve done enough. I won’t leave because of you.”

“Oh? You think it’s your decision? And what will you do otherwise? Will you drive home to your mother? She’s got a job of her own and I don’t think she has any room left in her life for her daughter. Not a daughter old enough to take care of herself. To be in the care of a man rather than her parent, yes?”

“I don’t need you to take--”

“You do need me. You don’t realise it because you’ve not seen what I could do to ruin your life. Truly. I’ve been rather generous and I’ve shown you only some of what I can do. I can give you everything or I can take everything,” he sat up and stretched his arm over the back of the couch, “you don’t want to see what I can take.”

You paused and stared at him. All light was gone from his blue eyes and his expression was void of any of his usual gaiety. You sat back as his words struck you. A sudden realisation chilled your blood.

“How do you know about my mom?”

“I’ve always been rather serious about you, kitten,” he said, “so why wouldn’t I want to know everything about you.”

You thought of Bucky’s girl and Steve’s. You used to pity them and now you were them. You pitied yourself and knew then the true extent of their futility.

As in all things, there was no denying Thor in this. But you wanted to, so much. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hit him, you wanted to run and never stop.

You got to your feet and turned away from him. “Did you want coffee?” you asked in resignation.

He was quiet for a moment. He understood and he knew you did too. That was your white flag.

“Just a touch of milk,” he replied.

You went into the kitchen and filled his mug. Yours was likely cold by then, you thought as you stirred in a cloud of milk. You replaced the carton in the fridge and stared at the machine. Your eyes crawled over every inch of the kitchen in a silent farewell.

You never liked this place; not the apartment, not the library, not the town. You always told yourself you would give anything to leave, to make it anywhere else. You regretted those naïve wishes. It should have been good enough. It was but now you couldn’t hold onto it.

Your fingers closed around the mug and you felt the heat through the porcelain. You furrowed your brow and let go of it. You turned and neared the other end of the counter. Your eyes rested on the knife block and you reached shakily to free a blade from its slot. You gripped it tight and turned it to catch the light.

If you killed him, you wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again. And if he killed you...

What were you thinking? What were you doing? You shook as you eyed the knife but could not bring yourself to put it back. There was only one way away from this man. Any cell would be freedom compared to him.

You tucked it into the back of your jeans and took the cup of coffee. You went into the living room and found Thor on his feet, his jeans low on his hips. You handed him the mug and watched him as he thanked you with a smile. He sipped as his other hand lingered along the top of the denim.

“Enough milk?” you asked, the air thick in your lungs as the handle of the jeans poked your back.

“Just perfect,” he assured you.

You stared at him as the hate roiled inside of you. You hated him. You really did. It didn’t matter if he could get you off, that he could be nice, he wasn’t nice. He was one of those bikers. Hell, you could be certain he was a killer. You weren’t crazy, he was.

You reached behind you as he turned and set down the mug. You pulled out the knife and cocked your arm back. You were knocked back as he spun and kicked you, his own hand flying up from his waistband. You fell onto the floor and the knife clattered away from you.

He knelt with his knee on your chest and pressed the barrel of his gun to your head. He leaned all his weight on you until you couldn’t breathe. You croaked and slapped at his leg as you gasped for air. The metal was hard and unyielding against your skull.

“I see you’ve made your choice,” he said as your eyes crossed in an effort to look at the gun, “the hard way it is.”

You closed your eyes, certain it would all end with a bang. He pulled the gun away and suddenly the weight was off your chest. As you peeked out from under your eyelids, he grabbed you by your neck and thrust you up to your feet. He had you dangling from his grip as he walked you across the room.

He slammed you into the wall so that your head spun. His blue eyes seared as he snarled and leaned in.

“Don’t you worry, kitten, I’ve got a nice little cage waiting for you,” he sneered, “but for now, this will do.”

He wrenched you forward then shoved you back against the wall. Your head bounced off it and left you in a daze. He let go and you fell to your knees. He grabbed the back of your shirt and dragged you into the hall. He tossed you into the bedroom ahead of him and moved swiftly to take his belt from where it was coiled on your dresser.

He got down to straddle you under him as you batted at him weakly. Your were senseless and stupid from his assault. You thought of the knife on the living room floor and wanted to sob. He wound the belt around your neck and pulled it tight.

“You better get used to wearing a collar, kitten,” he snarled as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, “or you’ll choke from it.”

💀💀💀

END

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fangurk · 3 years

Text

She’s Always There (Paul Lahote x Reader)

Key:

Y/n: Your Name

Y/l/n: Your Last Name

Y/n/n: Your Nickname

Y/e/c: Your Eye Color

Y/h/c: Your Hair Color

Prompt Given To Me By @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhh.tumblr.com: hey!! so the reason I'm messaging is because I wanted to request something but can't fit it all into an ask lmao. anyways could i please request a Paul Lahote x reader where the reader has been super close to the whole pack for years and has been Paul's imprint but doesn't know it (bc Sam thought it would be best to keep u away from it all) and they decide to finally tell you about being shapeshifters and being Paul's imprint and you're so mad about them not telling u earlier and there's a huge argument and they and Paul tries to calm you down but you say stuff like 'leave me alone' and things like that and it sounds like you're rejecting him/the bond in ur angry breakdown. anyways Paul is heartbroken and can't get out of bed or eat or anything so the guys finally convince you to come back bc they and Paul need you and it's just the reader cuddling with him and getting him out of bed to take a shower and eat and he realizes that you're not going anywhere and it's just like healing the imprint bond? sorry for this WALL of text, I've just had this idea stuck in my head for a while lol. if you don't want to do it, that's completely fine!! thank you for your time ♡

ok so my guy,, bc this fic has been stuck in my head for a bit, some scenes have developed? so idk i hope this isn't too much, but if u do write it, would u be willing to add like some angst to it, obvi, and maybe a scene/part lol where when the reader tries to get him to shower (bc the misinterpreted rejection made him like super depressed and he just felt low about himself) he won't shower, because he doesn't want to come out and the reader is gone. so either they shower together (not smutty just angst&fluff) or she sits like in the bathroom while he showers LOL. and when he feels a bit better, they go down to eat and he's touching some part of her at all times. if this is too much to like,, include then that's a-okay. i just need to get this OUT of my MIND ugh lmao!/!

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: The Reader has been friends with most of the pack members for her whole life. Which is why, after months of silence and strange changes, she was willing to let them back into her life— until she finds out she’s been told lies that leave her in danger, of course. After a big freak out and two weeks of avoiding them, the boys come begging for her help; it turns out that Paul has some wolf-y claim on her, and whatever she said to him has left him worse for wear...

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Nudity, Angst, and Cursing.

A/n: this is literally like a whole novel I’m so sorry I got carried away. this is kinda based on a lot of fics I read where the imprint has the potential to really hurt people and I named Paul’s dad.

Word Count: 2.9k+

“The legends are real!?”

Y/n Y/l/n hasn’t ever been so disturbed in her entire life.

After weeks of radio silence, Sam Uley’s little ‘gang’, mostly consisting of people she’d known since childhood, had slowly trickled back into her life. What started as a grocery run with Paul or a movie with Jared had turned into big bonfire parties including Jacob Black and his gaggle.

But that was months ago. Months. And now, as she sits by a fire, surrounded on either side by them, they decide to tell her their little secret?

“Y/n.” Sam says as she abruptly stands, eyes stern and hand raised placatingly.

His actions only served to upset her more and her skin bristles with irritation. Sam was acting as if she, a human surrounded by shape shifters, was the unstable one. As if she could do any damage to things built to kill vampires.

“Don’t you dare, Sam.” She clenches her fists, glaring right back at him. “It’s been months- months- and you’re telling me now?”

“It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up.” He reasons, voice a little less demanding. “We all wanted to be sure that you were ready to know.”

“Ready?!” Y/n laughs mirthlessly, y/e/c eyes wide with disbelief, “When was I supposed to be ready Sam? W-when one of you gored me? When a cold one ripped me apart?”

Her hands shake as she puts them on her forehead, blinking back tears. Growing up all she’d ever heard were stories of humans getting dragged into fights between wolf and vampire, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Emily in the eye because it was suddenly apparent that wolves alone could hurt people too.

It was so bad, whatever happened to Emily, that they said a bear mauled her— Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not like that, Y/n/n.” Embry chimes in, reaching out to grab his friend's arm.

She yanks her body out of the way and gathers her belongings quickly.

“What is it like then, Call?” She holds her bag to her heaving chest, “because it seems to me that you all have the ability to turn into giant, slobbery freaks that are built for killing vampires and, after completely dropping me for weeks, you decided to keep it secret from me for months. Did it even occur to you that I would’ve been better off knowing right off the bat?!”

No one says anything. Eight shifters and two of their girlfriends sit there, just staring at her like she was speaking a different language.

“You know,” Y/n has to clear her throat to steady her wavering voice, “had you guys really been souped-up on drugs like everyone says, maybe I could’ve handled the lying. But my life was clearly potentially in danger, and you let me hang around without saying anything. I- God I don’t want to see you people right now.”

She leaves with that, stepping over logs and storming back down the beach with determination. Faintly over the roar of her heartbeat, she can hear someone scrambling to stand behind her.

“Wait!— shit, sorry-” Paul grunts, jogging to catch up with her- “Y/n-“

With an unusual gentleness, his warm hand wrapped around her forearm. For a moment, deep in the back of her mind, a foreign feeling tells her to stop, to listen; but that small voice is quickly smothered by the rational part of her brain, and she wrenches her arm from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps, lowering her voice, “Leave me alone- I need to be alone.”

Paul stands there, dumbstruck, an unreadable look in his eyes as she walks away. And he’d continue to stand there, looking like a kicked puppy long after her retreating form became a blur amongst the darkness of the beach.

“Paul?” Sam is hesitant, hand hovering over the younger boy’s shoulder a minute before he touches him, “You okay?”

Shrugging his leader’s arm off his shoulder, Paul sighs. “No...I...I’m just gonna head home.”

Instead of going in the directions of the cars, the wolf stalks off toward the woods; Emily stands from her seat, wrapping her sweater more around herself as she watches Paul leave. Concern is written all over her features.

“He’ll be fine, Em,” He pulls her in for a hug, “it’ll all work out eventually.”

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Y/n does a good job of avoiding them for a while.

She turns her phone off a few days in and avoids going to First Beach, even when Washington gets a rare, warm summer feel. Books that have sat long forgotten on her shelves get read and TV shows she’s always meant to catch up on get watched; it’s boring and she runs out of options, at one point thinking of dying her hair y/f/c just to spice things up, but it allows her to think. (Or at least it allows this strange little voice in the back of her head to tell her that she needs to go back to them.)

The next time she sees any of the boys is exactly two weeks after the bonfire incident.

She’s curled up on her couch, picking at some of the Clearwaters’ fish fry and barely watching an episode of ANTM, when a fist comes banging down on her door. Turning off the TV, she tiptoes to the window, peeking under the curtain as carefully as she can.

As she expected, Jared Cameron and Embry Call are on her porch, the former standing in front of her door with his hip cocked, the other rooting around in her mother’s plants for something. Cringing, she hopes if she’s quiet enough that they’ll just go away.

Her front door opens within minutes, however, and she realizes her hoping is fruitless.

Should’ve known you can’t hide from wolves, she can’t help but think bitterly.

“Y/n?” Jared calls out through the house, “we know you’re here.”

“Yeah, and you guys should probably move your spare key,” Embry tacks on, flicking the light switch to the living room up, “I've known you forever and it’s still in the same place.”

From her spot by the window, the y/h/c haired girl glares at the two boys, arms crossed over her chest. Embry gives her a lopsided grin and holds the key out to her, his bud plopping down on the couch and pulling her abandoned plate into his lap.

Y/n extends a hand to take the key.

“Has it really been in the same place?” She sounds a little more defeated than she’d like.

“Yeah, it’s always been in your mother’s cornflower pot.”

“That’s...kinda sad.” She wrinkles her nose, pocketing the key with the intention to hide it better later, “but uh, I’ve been ignoring you for two weeks for a reason. Peacefully breaking into my house kinda furthers my need for space.”

Embry scratches the back of his neck.

“Well,” He says, “we need you to come back, man. Paul won’t talk to anyone- Sam doesn’t know if he’s eating, and he won’t even get out of bed for patrol! He needs his imprint-”

“His what?” She cocks her head to the side and Jared snorts from the couch.

“She left before we got there, nimrod,” Jared mocks through a mouthful of food, “she doesn’t know what an imprint is.”

He lets out an indignant “Hey!” as Y/n walks by, snatching her plate back from him on her way to the kitchen. Embry chases after her, a grumpy Jared jumping up from the couch to follow.

“You’re his imprint— you’re basically his soulmate!”

“Really?” She says warily, sealing the fish and putting it back in the fridge.

Both boys nod clumsily.

“You remember a few weeks ago when you saw each other for the first time again and he kinda just stood there like an idiot while you talked?”

“Yeah? Oh!-” She brings her hands up to her mouth, brows furrowed as she recalls.

It was exactly Jared had said. She and Paul had seen one another for the first time in a long time and the minute her y/e/c eyes looked into his, it was like he’d been struck dumb.

Embry gives her an encouraging look, “An imprint is...It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. When you snapped at him last week he thought you were rejecting him….”

A part of her thought about how absurd it was that he knew that whole speech. But the bigger part of her came to a realization that made her stomach churn.

“So he's all depressed… because… of me?” She whispers, leaning back on the counter.

Embry, always a rather sympathetic person, opens his mouth to comfort her, but Jared cuts him off.

“Basically. So are you going to come with us so we can help Paul or are you going to continue being petty?”

In any other circumstance, Y/n probably would’ve thrown something at her for calling her petty. She felt she was completely justified in her actions. A part of her wonders if she can really believe them— they’d spent months lying to her after all. But a larger part thinks about Paul, curled up in his bed, slowly desecrating because he thinks she rejected him.

If it were really all some ploy to get her to listen to them, then she’d at least be the person who chose the well-being of her friend over a petty disagreement.

“I’m coming.” She affirms, pushing herself off the counter, and letting the boys lead her to the car.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Jared and Embry drop her off in front of the Lahote household. They tell her something but she can’t really hear them over her heartbeat, she doesn’t even know they’re gone until it’s too late to turn back.

Getting into the house wasn’t the hard part. Paul’s father, Cyrus, had been leaving as she arrived, and, after he watched her stare at the house with a fearful expression for a few minutes, he happily let her in. The hard part was willing her legs to take her up the stairs to Paul’s room, and then it was opening his bedroom door.

Y/n has known Paul since they were eight, but she was afraid of him until they were eleven. He wasn’t mean, per se, but his anger made him do mean things; she wasn’t entirely happy with puberty and it’s monthly gifts, but whatever it did to make her suddenly un-afraid of him she was grateful for. But now, standing in front of his bedroom door, she had a nagging fear that Paul would revert to that eight year old boy who threw lunch boxes and twisted arms behind backs until people cried.

The door creaks slightly as she struggles to push it open.

His room is almost completely dark except for the light coming from the hallway behind her. Trash and dirty clothes have formed a compact layer on his bedroom floor, foot sized holes leading up to the twin sized bed in the corner. On the bed, amongst the blankets she’s sure he doesn’t need, is Paul— or at least, a Paul sized lump.

As gross as it is, she’s kind of relieved he’s been eating.

“Paul?” She whispers tentatively, stepping toward the bed.

The lump flinches and turns toward her.

“Y/n?”

If the room and the description of his state weren’t heartbreaking enough, his voice definitely was. Hollow, rough, and small, everything it never was, everything Paul wasn’t.

“Is that you?”

“Yeah...it’s me..”

She carefully steps over to the bed, and Paul slowly sits up, pushing his blankets to the side. There’s a beat of silence as she stands between his legs, his reluctant hands coming to rest on her waist after a minute. Y/n let’s him have another to gather his thoughts.

“You really came…” Tears well up in his eyes and loops his arms around her back.

She runs a hand through his hair. “I did, and I’m so sorry, if I had known—”

Paul nuzzles her stomach, “S’fine, you didn’t know, and you’re here now.”

There’s a sort of cute, euphoria lacing his voice and he’s visibly much more relaxed.

“Just don’t ever say that again…”

“I won’t, I promise.”

She’s surprised when he manhandles her into his lap, but she doesn’t really mind. He’s warm and strangely familiar and something about it just— clicks.

“When was the last time you spent, I dunno, a minute or two out of your room?” Y/n asks softly, y/e/c eyes glancing about the room.

The shifter’s only response is a shrug, too busy nosing around her neck with vigor. When he finds a certain spot, it makes her squeak, and this seems to excite him like a puppy finding out its favorite toy makes noise.

“You need to bathe, eat something substantial,” She intertwines their fingers, “and the...pack...they’re really worried about you— are you even listening to me?”

He looks up at her then and flashes her a sheepish smile, answering her question. Pursing her lips, she pulls his arms from around her.

“C’mon, Paul.” She stands up and takes his hand. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

She moves toward the door, urging him forward, only to be jerked to a stop as he stays put. He looks a little distressed when she turns back to him, brows furrowed, almost like he’s in pain.

“Paul?”

He grunts, jaw clenched as the cogs turn in his head. Y/n cocks her head and reaches out for his other hand. It felt like some sort of supernatural intuition, one she’ll blame on the imprint and ask Emily about later.

“Paul, hon, why won’t you come shower?”

“I’m afraid you'll leave,” He says bashfully, “it’s stupid, I know, but part of me is afraid you’ll leave while I’m in the shower.”

Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken at his confession. Paul was part wolf, and part of being part wolf was imprinting— she almost wishes she’d have stayed long enough to listen, or been able to focus as the boys debriefed her on the ride over because only being able to speculate how much she’d actually hurt him was eating her alive. He wouldn’t even shower, something he desperately needed to do, because of what she’d said.

Taking a deep breath, she barely registers the words she’s about to say.

“I’ll wait with you, I’ll sit on the toilet, you’ll see me there.”

And true to her word, Y/n does sit on the toilet while Paul showers, reading the information on soap bottles to distract herself from the fact that he was there next to her, very naked. Occasionally he asks her what she’s doing, and she reads the ingredients out loud to the best of her ability, and he laughs a little— she tries to hide her smile, but she was too happy he was laughing.

She closes her eyes when he gets out, letting him dry himself off and pull on some clean shorts. He throws the wet towel at her when he’s done, eliciting a “Hey!” that makes him laugh again.

Now that he’s clean, the two of them descend into his quiet house. Y/n navigates the kitchen, her wolf attached to her hip and being less than helpful, and makes them both something to eat— he doesn’t do much more than stand behind her, wrapped around her, making her life more difficult.

“I’m so happy you came back.” He says, watching her work.

“I was always going to.” Y/n responds, her voice sure and steady.

They talk as they eat, sitting across from one another at the too big table in the Lahote household. Talk about how this was going to work, admitting feelings that always lingered, and everything in between; she hooks her leg around his, watching him scarf down his meal with a wrinkled nose and fondness glittering in her y/e/c eyes.

He’s...gross...but he’s hers, she’s kind of stuck with him.

A date is planned. An actual date.

Paul promises to take her to the local diner (and to wear a shirt, for once.)

“I’ve been saving up for something like this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and you can get that dessert you like.”

Y/n laughs softly, but heat spreads up her neck and settles in her ears and cheeks. It’d been a long time since that had been her favorite food, but it was the thought that counted...

When Cyrus Lahote returns from work later that night his son and the Y/l/n girl are awkwardly situated on his couch— him on his back, snoring, her lying on top of him, face tucked into his neck, also fast asleep. The older man turns off the TV and tosses a blanket over the pair, ascending up the stairs with a smile on his face.

Y/n Y/l/n was trustworthy. She’s always there when Paul is in a rut too big for him to handle...

#paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolf pack imagine #twilight wolf pack #twilight fanfiction #eclipse #twilight wolf imagines #embry call #jared cameron #sam uley

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