#he frequently stands like this. i study him often trust me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 11 months

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Hi! Could you possibly write for the M6 with an MC who has intrusive thoughts that really bother them?

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC has intrusive thoughts

~ one of the kindest, strongest, wisest people I know (who I would be so proud to be more like) struggles with this too, and I've inherited some of that from them. Here's some comfort, anon, nobody's alone in this :) - brainrot ~

Julian

Nothing bothers him more than seeing you unhappy. He's noticed a few times when you pause, like something in your head is hurting you, and the way you take a deep breath and continue

Clearly, he thinks, you have chronic headaches

Never fear, MC, your neighborhood doctor hero is on the case! He has almost as many remedies for headaches as he has leeches

You're a little confused when the next time a particularly nasty thought shows up, he smears a funky-smelling concoction across your forehead with little to no warning and then smiles proudly

"Better?"

Well, yes, but mostly because your confusion is drowning out the thought that made you wince in the first place

He can tell it wasn't the right solution, and asks you about whatever it is that's going on in your head to cause this kind of pain

He gives you his full attention while you explain, nodding along as it sinks in. Intrusive thoughts, he understands but can't relate to. Feeling guilt or shame for something he didn't do? He knows that

He's always attentive to you when you're around, but now as he gets better at recognizing that bothered look on your face, he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders every time and tell you it's not your fault

Asra

This was something they didn't find out about you until after the two of you started dating properly. Before that, they were often too busy hiding their own pain and taking care of you to notice yours

It startles him when he finds out - he's suggested tapping into your bond while you go shopping, out of curiosity for how you experience the world

The recurring image you always get near a specific location is such a normal part of your routine that you forget to warn them

You feel his full-body flinch as you walk by, and then he's pulling you into a safer alleyway to ask you if you're okay

The amount of guilt they feel when you explain is nearly painful - you've been dealing with this all by yourself, and not only did they fail to help you learn how to face it, they never even noticed

He's going to cuddle all the thoughts away

Or at least, they'll try. It works surprisingly well most of the time, and they've become so tuned in to you that at this point all you need is the touch of their fingers on your palm for things to settle

He also teaches you a little pattern to trace on your hand that helps things calm down for when he's not around

So, so proud of you for how well you already stand up to your thoughts and prove them wrong every day

Nadia

She's quite the insightful person herself, but she's not very familiar with intrusive thoughts. Sudden visions and their accompanying headaches? Certainly, but she sees her mind as her own domain

Which is why she notices the way the shadow of a pained expression will flit across your features every now and then, and assumes it's just your magic doing magic things

She's a little annoyed that you never share the content of your frequent visions with her. She doesn't like being left out

Until she's practicing her own sight around you, and happens to be studying your aura when one shows up. She's both disturbed and impressed with the intensity of the thought and your own quick recovery

"MC ..." she asks thoughtfully, "Is this a frequent occurrence?"

When you say yes, she's hesitant to ask further. She can tell it's a private and emotionally intense matter, but she also doesn't like to see you hurting alone. "Would you be willing to trust me with it?"

You explain slowly, a little worried that she'll trust you less because of them. Instead, she's deeply moved. "You confront these every day, without fail. My darling, you are even stronger than I thought."

Will kiss you in broad daylight to take your mind off of it if it's bad

Muriel

He notices more than he lets on

It becomes obvious to him that there's something hurting you in your thoughts, but knowing from experience how painful flashbacks can be, he leaves it to you to address at your own pace

He waits for a very, very long time

It's several things piling up at once that gets things out in the open. First, it's your increasing feelings of safety and trust around him that get you thinking that it might be okay to share what's going on

Second, it's his mounting concern as he notices the way your eyes tend to linger on potentially dangerous spots and objects

And third, it's his uncanny ability to sense guilt and fear when he's lived so much of his life being plagued by it

He begins to skirt around the issue one evening by the fire, trying to feel out how safe it is for you to talk about it, and that's all the reassurance you need to start talking about what's going on

He listens very attentively, and even invites you to tell him some of the things that pop up most often uninvited

When you say it out loud it sounds both horrifying and ridiculous, but when you look at him all you see is his faith in you

He knows you, he loves you, he trusts you, and he knows that these thoughts are anything but accurate to you

Portia

She has no idea what's going on until you tell her

The only thing she overthinks about is when someone doesn't like her as much as she expects them to, and then it's problem-solving

And as much as she adores you, she doesn't idly pay attention to you. She's a busy woman, when she has time with you she wants to spend it doing things, not sitting around

All she notices is that, several months into sailing around together, you start to go into a slump every time you go out on deck

She doesn't know why or how. She just knows it happens and she wants it to stop happening because she doesn't like the way you seem so bothered

You finally approach her one evening in your cabin. She's got her feet up, reading by the lantern, petting Pepi in her lap

As soon as you ask if you can tell her something, she's snapping her book shut and sitting up. She wants to be here for you, even when what you're describing doesn't makes sense to her at all

But she believes you, because she knows you and she has faith in you. You don't expect how validating it is when she laughs out loud at some of the thoughts you describe having involuntarily

"I'm sorry," she gasps, "That's just the opposite of how I know you think."

Lucio

He doesn't know it, but the time he spent tied to you as a ghost advising you in all sorts of ridiculous directions did not help at all

Funnily enough, he brings up the concept of intrusive thoughts long before you think to tell him about it

Because he's having them and he's scared

On one hand, he knows his own determination to become a better person, and he knows he's succeeding. Being with you is proof

On the other hand, he has decades of well-worn thought patterns that don't disappear overnight. Even if he doesn't want to consider striking another deal with the Devil, it still pops into his head

He's frustrated with his skill or strength level? He misses his old life of luxury? Make a deal, his mind whispers, and it's yours. While he knows he wouldn't, the fact that he thinks of it makes him scared that he might, and sometimes it keeps him up

As you hear him describing it, you start telling him about your thoughts as well. It's reassuring to both of you - you know that you're not alone, and you're proof to him that these kinds of thoughts don't make him a bad person

If you're up for it, it becomes a running joke to casually mention it when one pops into one of your heads so the other of you can laugh at how ridiculous it is

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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cinnamoodles · 9 months

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the language of flowers — part two, irises

warnings: more angst than part one which is great, also reader throwing stuff bc she’s a badass, and in character Anthony which is honestly more of a red flag than ooc Anthony but you love him anyway you nasty :)

word count: 1.4k (wow I impress myself sometimes)

author’s note: we love this part bc reader stands up for herself and Anthony is one major daddy issues boy.

read the other parts! — part one, daises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

ii. 1804, iridaceae versicolor. irises, trust

Anthony paced the length of this study—which wasn’t all too large, but stress relieving nonetheless. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a tempestuous mix of newfound worry and lingering doubts. Today marked one year, one year without his father, one year his mother was cast into a depressive state, one year since he had taken on the mantle of viscount, and become the father figure that his youngest siblings did not have.

It had been far too long since he had last spoken to you—days? Weeks? He had never gone so long without even seeing your face, and that was a stretch. He’d spent his last few months mourning, brooding, and perhaps being a tad overbearing on himself, but he had to, for the sake of his family’s honour, it’s prestige.

There’s a sharp knock on his door, it’s most likely Colin or Daphne, who are frequent in irritating him. He makes no effort to open the door, and with a practiced gesture, he dips his quill into the inkwell, resuming his task of poring over the estate's financial matters. How often had his father sat here, absorbed in these very same calculations? A pang of longing pierces through him at the thought, his heart echoing the emptiness his father's absence had left behind.

Another knock.

It must be Colin, his eyes sparkling, attempting to irritate him once again. “I’ve got a job,” he snaps, “and I suggest you get one as well, one that does not involve vexing me at every given minute.”

The door creaks open, candlelight flickering over the stacks of leather bound tomes and haphazardly organized scrolls, casting lanky shadows over his face, playing upon the strong angles, highlighting the lines of exhaustion that marred his usually composed countenance. His normally impeccable attire was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and his ink-stained fingers spoke of long hours spent in diligent work. He wasn’t in a position to meet anyone, much less usher yet another one of his young siblings out of his room.

“Oh, I vex you? Is that why you've been evading me like the plague?” Your presence was like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through the storm clouds—startling, yet warmly welcomed. The quill slipped from his fingers as his eyes widened in surprise, locking onto your face, a vision that brought back a flood of memories and feelings he had attempted to suppress.

Your stormy eyes burned through his deep brown ones, and you crossed your hands across your chest. Your soft hair was tucked behind your ear, and your eyes were wide, as if staring directly into Anthony’s soul, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to become lost, to dream, and to gaze into them as if he was merely a boy again, holding you in his arms.

“Say something, Anthony! I’ve not seen you in weeks, properly, and you’ve barely held a conversation with anyone other than your butler, and frankly, I—”

Anthony quickly wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your shoulder, your cotton dress soft to the touch. He mumbles. “I missed you.” He can feel you stiffen, but soon gently relax into his arms.

“That is why I came,” you smile, and pull away, holding him at an arm’s distance. “Oh, and my brother is getting married. I wanted to invite you personally to the wedding.” Your oldest brother, twenty eight years of age, was getting married, Anthony recalled. He was, of course, to be the next Duke when your father inevitably passed.

Anthony rubbed his eyes. “My sisters will come, of course, but I may not be able to.” Your invitation was tempting, and the prospect of seeing you again filled Anthony with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed you until this moment, when you walked in the door. But his responsibilities as the viscount weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he feared that leaving the estate at this crucial time might jeopardize his mother’s already precarious emotional situation.

"I wish I could attend, truly," Anthony replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "But with the estate's financial matters in such disarray, I can't afford to be away for long. I must attend to my duties here."

You frowned slightly, concern glazed across your soft, delicate features. "Anthony, you can't carry the burden of the entire estate on your own. There must be someone who can assist you, even for a short time."

"I've considered that," Anthony admitted, his mind aching from the internal struggle. "But finding someone trustworthy, capable, and knowledgeable enough to handle the estate's affairs is not an easy task. I fear leaving things in someone else's hands might cause more harm than good.”

You crossed your arms, frustration evident in your expression. "Anthony, you can't keep shutting yourself off from the world. Your family's honor and prestige won't matter if you run yourself into the ground!"

He takes a step back, feeling defensive under your stern gaze. "I am taking care of things. I'm doing what I need to do to ensure the estate's survival, which is all that matters to me, at this point in time."

"Are you?" you snap, your voice tinged with disappointment that Anthony could see etched in your face. "You've barely spoken to anyone, including me, for weeks. You're burying yourself in work, and for what? To prove some sort of point? That you’re fit to be the man of the house?"

"I don't have a choice," Anthony replied tersely. "As the viscount, it's my duty to oversee everything. And after losing my father, I can't afford to let anything else slip through my fingers."

"You can't live in the past, Anthony," you urged, taking a step closer to him. "Your father's gone, and while it's natural to mourn, you can't let grief consume you. Of course, you have responsibility—"

His jaw clenched, and he shot back, "Responsibility? What would you know of responsibility? You don't understand the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I can't just leave everything behind and go gallivanting off to weddings, like an immature child."

Pain flashed across your face, but Anthony was much too in his head to take a look at his surroundings. He continued, as if possessed by some spirit. “You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You’re spoiled, and the only thing your family has ever thought of doing for you is getting you married.” He spit. “So why don’t you worry about your responsibilities, and I’ll worry about mine.”

A single tear fell from your eye, and in that moment, Anthony wished he could take it all back, swallow the poison he had thrown at you so mercilessly. “I…” you bite your lip, and he wanted to take you in his arms, comfort you, and hold you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m sorry for whatever sin I’ve done to have you treat me like this.” You quickly wipe your tears and rush to the door. Anthony wanted to stop you, to scream about how he didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You quickly turn around, revealing a bouquet of irises, the specific ones Anthony had commented on the last time he visited your estate. He could barely remember when. “By the way, I bought you flowers. I thought they’d cheer you up,” you retort, before throwing the delicately tied bunch of flowers straight to his head, hitting his nose.

The door slammed, and Anthony was once again left alone, only this time, he’d have done anything to bring you back. Slowly, the petals of the irises cascaded down onto the ground, fracturing the flowers, and Anthony noticed a small piece of paper.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: In the quaint world of botany, the charming iris blooms have long been regarded as symbolic emissaries of trust and faithfulness. Like an ancient scroll unraveling before our very eyes, the iris, with its alluring hues and delicate petals, unravels the story of steadfast devotion and allegiance. Just as an honest man's handshake vouches for his sincerity, the iris bestows its trust upon those who approach with an open heart and gentle touch, and a receiving of this gentle bloom from either gender discloses that the gifter trusts you with their whole heart. Its regal demeanor, reminiscent of a gallant knight in armor, instills in us the assurance that this flower is a beacon of loyalty and constancy.

Trust. You had trusted him, and what had he done with that? He’d tossed it away, and your gift had broken. Anthony wasn’t usually one for symbolism, but these broken irises were pretty damn apparent.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #Anthony Bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #Bridgerton x you #Anthony Bridgerton x you #anthony Bridgerton x y/n #anthony Bridgerton x female!reader

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markantonys · 6 months

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I hope you don't mind a random cauthormodean thought but this came to me in a vision yesterday, so, pls picture: it's the early days of Asmodean disguising himself as the Dragon's dearly beloved court bard. Mat doesn't know why Rand's suddenly hanging out with this gleeman so much, he certainly doesn't trust Natael and can't understand why Rand does! He's not jealous, of course, he just thinks there's something off about that man! (...well. he is not wrong.)

cue Mat showing up at Rand's tent one evening with some cards and dice, demanding a game with Rand for old time's sake. if anyone else were interrupting his precious study time, Rand would kick them out without a second thought, but... this is Mat. and apparently he? maybe? doesn't hate Rand any more? so obviously he can't bring himself to turn him away.

but then it keeps happening. Mat just... keeps showing up, and it gets to a point where Rand's nightly routine is becoming a bare half hour of instruction alone with Asmodean, then as soon as Mat turns up, the hours just fritter away into long conversations and the spinning of the dice, with Asmodean relegated to playing his harp in the corner and interjecting an occasional snarky comment.

at least, until the evening when Rand is on the verge of figuring out a tricky weave right as Mat arrives. he just needs to practice a few more times, he's sure of it. so he pretends that he's just practising channelling by himself, with Natael just playing to inspire him, that's the only reason he's here, obviously, but why doesn't Mat dice with Natael for a few minutes to pass the time while Rand figures this tricky weave out?

and somehow it evolves into Mat gambling against Asmodean, often as not, whose channelling may be weak but is certainly still strong enough to cheat justttt enough to best even Mat's luck more frequently than most could dream of. neither of them can figure the other out at all. they cannot stand each other. but now they both feel a burning need to figure out what the other's deal is. et voilà: a homoerotic rivalry for the ages is born...

...and these strange evenings continue until Asmodean, utterly fed up with being the only one in this tent aware that he likes men and desperately wants to fuck both of the others against every single iota of his better judgement, offers Mat a new bet: whoever loses the next game sucks the other's dick. at which point Rand suddenly realises that if he doesn't speak up Immediately, he's about to gain a companion in the highly exclusive club of ta'veren who've unwittingly slept with a Forsaken, and, well, his conscience simply can't allow that!!

(eventually Mat and Rand both join the club of ta'veren who've entirely knowingly slept with a Forsaken. the day Lanfear finds out about this sure is a Day for everyone in a 500-mile radius)

I'M HOWLING this is absolute perfection 10/10 no notes!!!! obsessed with the idea of mat and asmodean eyeing each other like two alleycats whilst rand sweats in the corner hoping nobody will figure out any of the 17 secrets everyone else is keeping. and of course, any scenario that gives us the matmodean homoerotic rivalry we deserve is perfection!

also, 3000-Year-Old Gay just having to stare at the camera like he's on the office every time mat and rand are like "broooooo you're so handsome, i want to kiss you on the lips. no homo though aha" this is the torment that the dark one has hand-selected for him. lanfear did not know what she was doing, putting asmodean in a position to speedrun rand's Bi And In Love With Mat awakening.

#anonymous #answered #wot book spoilers

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mintytealfox · 6 months

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Me: have another sacrifice You Guys: we don't want another sacrifice Me: Have another

intro: here ch 2-4: here

Chapters 5-7 Norton and Alice finally meet aahhh

(a small reminder of the size difference)

Ch 5 Alice

“Frederick Kreiburg…. now where have you been?”

Frederick looks away from the painting he was fixated on and sees the familiar journalist and sighs, “found me already…? It’s barely been 24 hours since I’ve returned.”

Alice smiles as she walks over to stand next to him and admire the painting. “You are a creature of habit. There are only three places you frequent. This one being your favorite.”

“Think you’ve got me pinned already~?” There is a hint of a smile in his words.

“I couldn’t possibly, there is so much I don’t know, like why you go to this gallery more than the central one. What makes this one special?” Eyes studying this piece, taking in the flowing colors of the horizon over the open plains captured here. It is enchanting.

Frederick watches as she gets lost in the work, admiring that and nods, “I like the artist. A human who can properly convey the beauty of this planet. He makes you believe you can see what this world was like before the war.”

The journalist blinks with a look of surprise, “you answered a question~”

“Hm, don’t get used to it” he sends a small smile her way, “but I did find someone who is willing to be interviewed.”

It felt as if time stopped all around her, someone willing to be interviewed on this taboo subject. This sounds too good to be true! “Is that what you were doing? Looking for someone willing so I would get off your back?” a short laugh escapes her.

“Not really, it sort of fell into my lap, but the idea of you getting off my back isn’t lost on me~” he turns to face her, “am I right in assuming you’ll accept this opportunity?”

“Absolutely!” with a voice full of confidence as she pulls out her note taker.

They exchange details: location, date, time and a little advice.

“You’re looking for a Norton Campbell. He will likely prefer to talk about working conditions, he is involved in one of the more dangerous lines of work and will likely have frustrations about it. So don’t expect this to be a comfortable conversation. He refuses to come here, so you will need to travel to the outside. Melly could accompany you if you wished it. I know you visit her often.”

Alice is noting all of this down on the holographic pad. “If he requested an interview with only me, then it should only be me that’s there. I don’t want to break any sort of trust between interviewer and interviewee.”

Frederick grips his cane, “I admire your strong views but don’t lose sight that the outside isn’t as safe as it is here.”

A smile is all she shares with him, “just like you Mr. Kreiburg, I also have many secrets~ I assure you; I will be more than fine.”

A little taken a back, he nods, this is an interesting development. Maybe he is underestimating her, or she is overestimating herself. Suppose time will tell. “Very well then, good luck.” Offering a hand for her to shake.

Alice gladly takes it. “Hope you won’t be opposed to me continuing to ‘bump’ into you every now and then~”

He smiles, “as long as it isn’t for your newspaper articles.”

—-

The trip was long to reach this coal mining colony and it’s nothing like the central human city. As she flies her vehicle taking in the area, it just seems so…, tired here. The colors don’t seem as vibrant, likely from the smog and smoke from explosives being used so frequently. She notes that the machinery that is parked all along the mountain side, rows and rows of them and are all old models and run down. The buildings all look like they’ve survived the worst of conditions and are worked on and mended to keep standing and of course, the two peoples are kept separate.

“It’s like this is the most forgotten place on this planet.” She speaks into a recording device. “I— “

The beeping of the radar interrupts, the living quarter she is looking for is right there to the left. Parking her vehicle, she notices some human coal workers watching from the other side of the wide road. Only a person from the central city would be driving such a vehicle, what could someone like her be doing here in all places and visiting him of all people. The strange quiet one, but the most reliable.

Alice gets out of her vehicle, returning a glance at the gawkers before eyeing the abode. It’s been well mended and kept put together nicely. Whoever this Norton fellow is, she can already tell he knows how to make a lot out of a little.

She gets to the door and presses the button that is clearly for humans to signify their presence, waiting a moment, but not hearing anything.

“Hm…” she rings again….

Nothing…

Foot falls can be felt from nearby and seem to be heading this way. Alice hurries to the side of the home to see and freezes in her tracks at the sight of him.

Worn down ragged work clothing covered in dust from coal and rubble, bags under his eyes, a fascinating facial scar, and…a thousand-yard stare she has never seen in person before.

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

Ch 6 Norton

Norton is just returning from the mines, dropping his last sack of coal to be picked up by the transporters tonight. His eyes catching movement at the corner of his living place, they zero in on her, the journalist, staring at him. That’s irritating….

“You’re early….” He grunts.

“Ah! Yes, I figured better to be early than late!” She is practically yelling to make sure her voice carries up to him well enough.

Norton scrunches his face, and his ears drop a little, “why are you shoutin, I can hear just fine.” He walks around her and opens the door to go inside.

“Oh, apologies, I assumed from all the explosions that— “

“You assumed wrong. Are you comin in or what.” His voice is dry and scratchy but still manages to maintain that comfortable low tone. From the corner of his eye, he sees her quickly hop skip and hurry on in, that was a little cute, but he will be doing his best to remain indifferent, “This place isn’t human friendly so if you don’t want to be on the floor then I’m going to need to lift you onto the table.”

“Well, my name is Alice, and—“ Alice’s eyes widen when she now registers what he said as this large stranger bends over and reaches for her, “wait, wh—“

His coal dust riddled glove grabs onto her to pluck her up and place her up on the table, leaving her clothes covered in coal grime as well. Mid sigh, she blows at her bangs and assesses this new vantage point.

Norton turns so his back is facing her and hides a smile, he knows exactly what he’s doing and just might enjoy messing with her—-His smile drops when he realizes the thought process he was on, he needs to get his act together. Clearing his throat, he walks over to grab a towel, dampens it with water and starts scrubbing his face over the sink.

Alice is seeing this and realizing maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be here early. He likely needed that time to clean himself up. Feeling a little bad, she takes a seat on the table and will be patient. Not like she could really go anywhere being up here anyhow.

Noticing his work clothes and seeing the state they are in he sighs, “I really need to change, can you just hold tight?”

“Do whatever you need and take however long you need, shower even.”

He arches a brow as he turns to look at her, “you sayin I stink?”

Alice slowly places a hand to her mouth, not believing how far her boot needs to be in her mouth, and needing to gently clear her throat, “eh hem….no?”

A grunt comes from him in a manner that can only be assumed was his version of a laugh, “I’m messin with you. I know I’m anything but pleasant to behold. Especially for you, from the center city.”

“Oh, not at all Mr— “

“Meh” waving a nonchalant hand in her direction and leaves to clean up in the back room.

---

He returns all cleaned up and in his cleaner pair of work clothes, saving these for guests and when his main pair needs a deep cleaning. Walking over to where his guest is seated, he notices how she is busily typing away on her note taking device. Pulling out his chair he takes a seat and rests his elbow next to her on the table.

“What are you workin on?”

“I have several stories I have running at the same time, keeps me busy, how I like~” she looks up at him and smiles, “ready to begin?”

He eyes her and nods, “ask your questions.”

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

Ch 7 Alice and Norton

The session didn’t go particularly well….

“…. you haven’t answered a single question with anything more than a grunt.” Disappointment threatening to take over her facial features.

“You tellin me you can’t work with that?”

Alice takes a deep breath, “okay…let’s change direction then. What topic are you willing to talk about?”

-grunts- he is clearly bored and tired and hungry and all the things that lead to him finding this irritating.

“Okay, answer 3 questions fully,” she holds up three fingers at him, “no grunt answers will be accepted, if you do this then I will buy you dinner.” She unconsciously wags a finger at him.

Now this has his attention and lifts his chin from the palm of his hand, elbows remaining planted on the table as he folds his arms, “hm, alright, I’m listenin.”

“First question, what do you think about working here with humans?”

He lets out a long-drawn-out sigh that leads him to have to cough out the rest, “I think it sucks.”

“…….and?”

“And what?”

Wits reaching their limit, “Mr. Campbell, please, pleeeaassee give me something to work with.” She is getting desperate now, this man is impossible!

Norton runs a hand down his face, “fine, fine…. how’s about…conditions are difficult, dangerous, and it’s frustrating seeing those machines out there not being the ones sent to do the more dangerous jobs, instead they send us in, saying we are more reliable to get the job done…makes me wonder what humans are even here for.”

“Is it from one of these jobs that you got that scar then?” She points at her own side of her face, mirroring him.

“?” He leans in uncomfortably close, “does my scar bother you?”

Alice sighs, “Mr. Campbell, please, it’s been hours, just answer the question.”

Norton is slightly impressed by that and nods as he pulls away, “no, it wasn’t, but I’ve got plenty of others from em.”

Noting this all down she moves to the next question, “second question.”

“No, that was the second question, about the scar.”

Alice gets a smidge flushed, a temper she never knew she could have is currently being created. She takes a few deep breaths, “then give me more information about it.”

The table was flipped back to him (uno reversed) and Norton is mentally kicking himself. “Well, what do you want? To see them?”

Pointing at his facial scar, “I want to know about that one.”

He folds his arms and slumps back in his chair, “I don’t know where I got this one.”

“You don’t know where you got a scar on your face? Surely, you’re pulling my leg here…”

“I’m not, I don’t know where I got it…I don’t remember.” His tone has a sense of embarrassment behind it.

She looks up and deep into his eyes and sees genuine frustration and confusion behind them. “Hm, okay…third question.…why did you ask to be interviewed when you clearly didn’t want this?”

Norton takes time to think on this, “I owe a favor…and this is what they asked me to do…”

“?” This confuses her, “if you were asked to do this then why aren’t you answering the questions?”

“Well damn, butter me up a little maybe? I can’t just go on and tell you all my shit when I didn’t want to do this in the first place” he blows at his bangs.

“Butter you up? I could do that, but that would require several visits.”

“??” Maybe this could be good, this would buy him time. “You’d do that? Come out here that many times?”

“Sure, I’ll even bring you things, what would you like?” Finally, it feels like she is getting somewhere.

“Ha” he pats the table a little in thought, “how’s about this, surprise me next time. But right now, you owe me dinner, I’m starved.”

Alice packs her things prepared to go to her vehicle and follow him to wherever. “So, I’ll just meet you there the— “

cut short by Norton grabbing her and dropping her on his shoulder, “I hope you know how to hold on.”

She blinks in surprise, “you’re just going to take me there?”

“What? I wasn’t about to risk you just flying off. You owe me a meal and I better get it.”

Sighing, she gets her bearings, slows her breathing, and getting used to THIS vantage point and nods, “so I just ‘hold on’ then? Are you experienced with this?”

“Mhm….and no” answering as he walks over to open the door and step outside into the night. He can feel her tight grip on his shirt. “you’re good at making things look like accidents, so all I’m asking is for you to do it again.” Norton swallows hard as Orpheus’s words replay in his mind. “Not yet” he thinks to himself, “I could get more out of this. I just need to time it right…” He walks with more care in each step, being far more cautious than he originally wished to be as he makes his way to the nearest inn.

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drafthorsemath · 1 year

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TBB and Clones HCs - What kind of horse would they have?

Thank you to @staycalmandhugaclone for listening to my entire ramble about this and encouraging me to post it.

I don’t actually do a lot of AU HCs but this was fun. I’ve definitely thought about this in depth. Here are my HCs for what kind of horse these clones would have (breed, color, name, and horsenality) and what kind of horse sports they might be into. You’ll see terms like left brain (a horse that is naturally confident), right brain (a horse that is naturally unconfident), introvert (in literal terms, this would rather stand around than move quickly unless they feel danger), and extrovert (the horse not only wants to move their feet, their instinct drives them to frequently).

Wrecker

This big boy needs a draft horse or cross. It's only fair. He gets a black Percheron. And as Wrecker is pretty extroverted, he needs a left brain extroverted horse who can keep up with him. This horse likes chasing cows and going on trail rides. But don't let their size fool you. Like Wrecker, this horse is an absolute locomotive when it comes to getting somewhere fast. When cow working or the trail ride is over though? Wrecker takes the saddle off and makes sure his equine partner gets plenty of time to roll and shake off. Horse's name: Hector.

Echo

This smart boy needs a horse who can be patient at the mounting block so he can get on safely and is comfortable with vocal cues in addition to the usual stuff. Echo prefers riding Western because he can get away with using just one hand on the reins. He definitely rides a left-brain introverted horse. One that will not take off with him for no good reason, but that is steady. Echo also prefers a shorter horse who is easier to get off of due to his cybernetic legs. This horse can walk for miles while Echo enjoys nature with his equine companion, but is also willing to book it when asked. Echo’s horse is a chunky, buckskin Quarter Horse named Blaster.

Hunter

Hunter is a pretty sensitive soul. He likes to take his time and consider things without jumping in too much and he definitely needs a horse who can think without jumping into trouble. Like Echo, he gets a left-brain introvert. Now Hunter is canonically the shortest of the group (except Omega) so he doesn't want to have to climb onto some super tall horse like Wrecker can. Hunter can handle some height, but too much is annoying, especially when he has to get on and off a lot from the ground during trail rides or camping trips. Hunter has a palomino Tennessee Walking Horse which is perfectly suited to his horsemanship goals. While they may often be found in the show ring under stressful circumstances, Hunter prefers their natural gait and refuses to show his horse. That’s not for him. He finds it easy to ride outside for hours at a time. Hunter takes his horse deer hunting, dragging a deer carcass home after a successful morning in the woods. His horse’s name is Zip.

Tech

So Tech might be a chatterbox at times (and legitimately, I could listen to him all day about anything), but he's also a quiet thinker and can spend a lot of time to himself. When he's taking in new information, especially learning about an animal without the assistance of a data pad, he's going to be good at watching his horse and he learns how to read his horse quickly. He is a very quick study when it comes to horsemanship and so he would do well with a right brain introverted horse. This horse needs someone to take their time with them and form a strong bond, so when something scares them, their person will be right there to help them calm down. Tech notices the small things that bother his horse before they become really big things. This kind of horse that needs a minute to think and a person who they can trust. Tech believes in himself and his horse latches on to that and so together they can do just about anything. Of all the batchers, I think Tech would be the most drawn to classical dressage for its elegance and precision. Tech’s horse is a dark bay Dutch Warmblood named Descartes.

Crosshair

I firmly believe Crosshair masks a lot of his emotions with snark, but I think underneath it all, he is very emotional. I think he would also do well with a horse that has emotions brewing underneath it all, so like Tech, I think he would do well with a right-brain introverted horse. This horse doesn't want to go fast and is naturally unconfident, but Crosshair takes the time to quietly reassure his horse that things will be fine. With time, they form a strong bond and Crosshair gets into mounted archery (obviously). This once nervous horse who wanted to stand around scared is now one that can be ridden at speed through a course with Crosshair hitting each target. And in between each target he discretely pets his horse letting them know that they're doing great. Because Crosshair knows what it's like to need some validation, he's not going to let his horse down. Crosshair surprises people and so does his horse. Crosshair’s horse is a Clydesdale named Arrow. They show up at mounted archery competitions and all these people with tiny, fast horses get blown away by this absolute tank of a beast running through the course as they kick everyone's ass.

Omega

Omega got into horse riding like her brothers, but she’s not one to get on some tall horse. Instead, she gets a left-brain extroverted Fjord pony named Beatrice. This draft pony is full of sass. I mean, you could not possibly put more sass into said pony. Omega really wants to work on mounted archery like Crosshair, but initially Beatrice loved jumping the short fences along the path of the course and then just flat out galloped through any field before coming to a screeching halt. Hunter thought getting Omega a pony instead of a big horse would be a good idea, but it was not. However, Omega loves Beatrice and is learning a lot in the process. She has gotten good at warm-up exercises where she asks her pony to speed up and slow down and speed up and slow down. This way she is teaching Beatrice not to run off with her, but also promises Bea that they can still go fast sometimes. Recently, Crosshair started taking Omega to the mounted archery course to practice because they discover that Beatrice does better with another horse around.

Rex

Rex really wanted to try dressage. He really did. He like the elegance and felt like the athleticism required would be perfect for him, but his horse could not handle the mental collection needed for dressage. Rex should have known better with a horse named Chaos. Instead of dressage, Chaos wants to go fast and jump high. Chaos is a right-brained extroverted Friesian / Arab cross. This horse is naturally unconfident and his instincts say “go fast.” At first, this combination resulted in Rex feeling like he was having a heart attack every time he rode, but as time went on, he was able to help Chaos be more confident, and especially be more confident in Rex himself. Once Rex fully sees that his horse is just following his instincts, he’s very understanding. He takes his time during warm-up so by the time they get to the real work, Chaos is much more calm. Rex decides that show jumping would be a better outlet and Chaos excels at it. They get to go fast and jump high as a team of two and while it’s not originally what he planned, Rex loves flying high.

Fives

Oh Fives. Fives is really into cross country. He has a gray, left-brain extroverted Holsteiner horse. This tall leggy horse is incredibly athletic and will take on the cross country course at full speed whether or not Fives is still on his back part way through. Fives loves the adrenaline and manages to stay on each time, but it’s not what one would call a pretty ride. Fives originally named his horse Uno, as in “the one and only,” but Kix started calling him OhNo and it stuck. Despite their absolute insane rides, Fives does actually care about OhNo and puts in the time to be a better rider. He knows that it can’t be fun to have a human flopping around your neck and back while jumping down a hill and into the water, and so he spends a lot of time both in the riding arena and on trails working on his balance.

Kix

Kix has a liver chestnut and white Sugarbush Draft horse. This big, steady horse is a left-brain extrovert. Unlike the more extreme extroverts on this list, Kix’s horse is find just trotting around all day. As long as he’s moving. They love trail riding and while they don’t compete, Kix is trying his hand at the discipline of reining. Kix named his horse Spike, but Fives calls him FreckleButt. When the group all go trail riding together, Kix and Spike bring up the rear, making sure everyone is together and okay. Sometimes for fun, Kix paints the red medic symbol on Spike’s hind end. As a result, the boys got him a saddlepad with the medic symbol embroidered on it.

Cody

Cody has an immaculately trained chestnut Oldenburg that he sometimes doesn’t know what to do with. This left-brained introvert mare was a schooling horse, but at this point in her life, she’s tired of teaching people how to ride. She instead prefers to be fed when she’s not snoring loudly in her sleep. When Cody got her, he was determined to ride her regularly, but instead he has had to take his time to get to know her and win her over with a lot of undemanding time (mostly involving taking her to the best grazing area on the farm). This horse is the epitome of “horses don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” Because of the time he spent with her, she will only put in effort for him now. If anyone else tries to ride her, she refuses to move or will lay down. Cody is mostly working on his freestyle riding, but after each ride he makes sure she gets a good brushing, some friendly scratches on her shoulders, and plenty of snacks. Her favorites are molassas cookies and Cody knows better than to show up to the barn without plenty of cookies and an apple. This horse’s name is Gloria and to Cody, she’s worth her weight in gold.

Jesse

Jesse has a buckskin Paint horse who has some markings that absolutely do not match his tattoo, but he's convinced otherwise. While Jesse originally got into horses because he wanted to run barrels, he actually really enjoys liberty work. His mare is a right-brained extrovert and she needs to run. While her previous owner and trainer had her run barrels thinking it got her energy out, it’s clear now to Jesse that it just gets her more worked up. To take the pressure to perform off, Jesse started spending most of his time doing online and liberty work. While he thought he would love riding and they sometimes go on a nice ride through the field, he spends most of his time teaching her tricks. He likes the feeling that his horse can be running around without a halter or lead rope on and still wants to be with him and play. Whenever he arrives on the farm, she runs to him the moment she sees him. Jesse’s horse’s name is Venatrix and he frequently lets her steal carrots out of Fives’ stash for OhNo.

Howzer

Howzer has a Swedish Warmblood named Lucy. This right-brained introvert is very unconfident and very introverted. When he first got her, she would really rather just stand in her stall and be left alone. She possibly comes from a difficult past, but it’s hard to say. She is, however, a good equine match for Howzer. He wants to do right by her. He’s not going to just throw on a saddle and go. He spends a lot of time standing around in her vicinity without asking much of anything. This turns into doing online work and going for walks together outside. As soon as she shows she’s worried about something, he backs off so she doesn’t feel pressure. It doesn’t take long before Lucy realizes that he’s a different kind of horse owner than those of her past. She rapidly bonds to him after this and as he’s able to ride more, Howzer is also interested in dressage, like Tech. Lucy likes this discipline as well because it isn’t too fast and there is a lot of quiet communication with the rider. As they begin to trust each other, Howzer is able to ask for more from her and she is able to expand her bubble of comfort.

Gregor

When Gregor decided to get a horse, Rex joked and said he should get a mule instead. Gregor rolled his eyes a little bit, but within a week he brought Petunia home. Like any mule, this Belgian Draft Mule has a lot of opinions. She’s a left-brain introvert who values her downtime. She is incredibly sure-footed and Gregor loves riding through the mountains with her. She also enjoys cow working and Gregor gets a kick out of seeing her big ears pinned at the cows who don’t move out of her way fast enough. While she can be very slow, she definitely gets into her groove around cows.

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virgin-mojitos · 2 years

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STEVEN GRANT SFW ALPHABET -- PT 2

aaaaaaa part 2 is here!! terribly sorry for the delay i was a bit busy with studying for my exams, ANYWAYS! thank you so much for the people who liked part 1 i had so much fun writing these

ALSO thank for anon for sent me a message (it made me tear up dont tell anon) and i shortened this for your sake! anyways ENJOY

Gifts – What do they give you as presents? How often do they get you gifts?

“steven grant of the gift shop” I mean come on. I think hes that sort of partner (or friend) that surprises you with random gifts “HEY LOOK AT WHAT I SAW TODAY!! IT REMINDED ME OF YOU SO I GOT IT” its usually the randomst bizarre gifts and trinkets. Like you may make an offhand comment about how you genuinely thought unicorns were a real thing because you watched harry potter as a kid and it wasn’t until YEARS later when you found out that they don’t exist (SPOILER ALERT) so one day hes standing in line waiting for his morning coffee and he sees a cup that has a little unicorn on it and he INSTANTLY buys it and he would get sooOoOoOoO excited when he give it to you.

Hold – How do they hold you? Cuddling, sleeping, holding hands…

Oh steven steven steven, my little touch starved and deprived boy. When he gets comfortable around you (and you him) He. Will. Not. Let. Go. Of. You.

If he can he will hold you 24/7, but as its not possible (you try to convince him) he will pout when he has to go to work or he will definitely pout and whine when YOU get up from bed when he wants to cuddle

Okay so cuddling? Big spoon or small spoon? I think both? Like it would depend on the mood and on you really, but if hes big spoon he will stick your back to his front and put his arm under your head (although it starts to hurt after a while he literally does not care) and one hand on your boob (first couple of times hes very shy about his hand placement but by time if he gets confident he may squeeze)

BONUS: if youre touch starved but also a bit touch repulsed because past trauma (like me hello) it means the WORLD to him when you let him touch you and hes always asking for consent to make sure youre okay

Ideal – What’s their ideal date like?

Museum date ha ha.

I mean yes of course but I think dates where you get to do an activity is very fun for steven (although he does spend more than half of the date staring at you, you pretend you don’t notice)

Jealousy – Do they get jealous easily? How do they handle it?

Mmmm yes I think he does get jealous easily, but that’s due to his insecurities ingrained in him from the people around him (cough cough donna) making him feel awkward or too much or too hyper (cOuGh that cunt donna cOUgh), but definitely not because he doesn’t trust you or anything like that. He might need you to reassure him a couple of times to gain more confidence tho

I think he would come to you and white people smile (like marc in episode 3) the person whos shamelessly flirting with you and try to politely drag you away for that person (my polite boi *dreamy sigh*) if hes feeling confident

If hes feeling less confident I think he would just watch the scene from a far with sad puppy eyes and he only interferes if you are visibly uncomfortable. If not, unfortunately he will start to overthink and doubt himself (marc and jake are trying to help but they only offer umm…non civil offers) which do nothing to help his growing anxiety.

BONUS: if while talking to the person you point to steven and mouth “that’s my boyfriend right there” he will swoon (and might tear up)

Kisses – How do they like to kiss you? How frequently do you kiss?

While episode gives us a very middle school kiss from mr steven grant (it was horrible and awkward don’t try to convince me otherwise) I think by time he improves?? Like yes its still very sloppy (and sometimes its too tongey??) but its very intense nonetheless. Hes very passionate about everything he does, and I think he can really pass his feelings for you through his kisses

I think before steven kisses you, he has to hold your face in the palm of his hands, one hand on your cheek and the other a bit far back near your neck for support (because you’re a gooey mess when steven holds you like that) and hes just. Lost in your eyes for bit, like AAAAAAA im blushing just thinking about this, but hes just looking at you like you are quite literaly the center of his universe. Just so much love and adoration and content before he finally kisses you. This happens almost every time he kisses you because hes that much of a sap.

(except of course the times where you guys are big hornballs and cant keep your hands away from teaching and just hitting every surface in the shared flat until you FINALLY get to the bed)

Love – How do they show you that they love you?

I think steven is a very verbal guy, so you can count on a lot of verbal reassurances if youre one of those people who are insecure (join the club) so yes he will tell you he loves you verbally.

Also for me, learning somebody’s mannerism and habits and finding them endearing is PEAK love for me, so knowhing how you like your coffee or tea in the morning and making it for you if youre running late or just too lazy to get out of bed, and somehow he makes it better than you ever did? What sort of sorcery is this?

REPOSTS AND LIKES HELP MY EGO THANK YOU MUAH

again if you want more of these i thoroghly enjoy writing about my boys, just tell me!

(part 3)

#steven grant #moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #sfw alphabet #marvel #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant x reader fluff #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n

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nerdierholler · 7 months

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October Writing #8

Heyo, look who did the word thing again! Took me four tries to get this one started so I'm call it good. Just my variation on telling Isobel that you want to kill her because of the urges. I liked the idea of it not being a scene with the whole troop around.

Isobel

There’s no knock, and little to no noise to indicate that the leader of the new band of strangers had entered Isobel’s room. This time he’s alone, the others likely asleep this late into the night. Except now, the person in her room wears a mask of the man she met earlier in the day. The face before her is haunted, dark circles under glassy eyes, the expression slack with little to no emotion.

“I have these urges,” Kerric’s voice is slow, pained, “They want me to kill you.”

If only Selune’s light could save all in the Inn from darkness, but Isobel knows all too well that darkness is found everywhere. Even in light there are shadows. She carefully studies the man in front of her, she doesn’t doubt his intent or the truth of his words. But she also remembers him standing beside her to defend those at the Inn, promising the children that he’ll find Mol, even playfully thanking Mattis for his Ring of Resistance to Ants for protecting their supplies on the road. There’s something deep inside of him that fills his gaze with murderous desires, but it doesn’t seem to be who he is.

“But you aren’t going to.”

Faith is often a difficult thing, to let hope and belief rise above doubts and darkness. This is a statement of faith, not to Selune, but to Kerric. It is a statement Isobel must, and does, believe to be true.

His expression shifts, tenses, and she watches a momentary war rage behind his eyes, aware of the small panic growing in her own mind about which side will win out.

Eventually his countenance shifts, the strange haunted expression turning into one of weariness. His shoulders sag and limbs seem to be dragged down by their own weight.

“That’s what I thought.”

Before she can continue, though, a figure steps out of the shadows near the door, the white haired one, Astarion was it?. She’d been so focused on Kerric that she hadn’t noticed him enter, or perhaps he’s just that good at slinking in shadows, he seems like the type. With careful movements, his eyes fixed on her, he moves forward to stand beside Kerric. He doesn’t trust her, isn’t sure of what she’ll do next. Isobel stands there, still and patient, not sure of what this strange animal might do if it feels threatened.

Seemingly assured that Isobel isn’t going to turn on them, Astarion places an arm around Kerric, saying softly, “Come on, darling. Let’s go back to bed.”

Of all of the events of the evening, somehow it’s the tenderness in his voice and the way Kerric leans into him as he guides them away that surprises Isobel the most. She hadn’t picked up on any particular attachment when she’d watched the group earlier in the day. If anything, Astarion seemed frequently annoyed with Kerric’s decisions in the aftermath of the attack. Curious. Though it makes her heart ache with painful remembrance, it’s nice to know that perhaps there’s more than one light in the darkness.

#bg3 #dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #listen I just really like the idea of Kerric being on the verge #of not having control over his actions again #and not realizing what he's done until after the fact #except this time there's more of him that wants to and is able to resist #and also Astarion noticing he's gone and following him #but coming in later and waiting to see how things will play out #willing to jump in to help Kerric so it means he wouldn't be killed #or just safely getting him out of the situation it is doesn't turn to murder #protective streak either way but that's he's priority #not the morality of what Kerric might do #october writing #kerric #nerdy writes #life at nerdy holler

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jaassmmmiinne0420 · 25 days

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Here’s my story from wattpad hope you enjoy it 🩷

I've been reading a lot of Dolan twin stories and, since i'm a fan of the Vampire Diaries, you'll notice references to the show; that's why they may seem familiar

Hi my name is Emily Ruiz I live in New Jersey, I'm 18 years old and a senior in high school. As an only child, I often am home alone because my mom, a travel nurse, and my dad, a pilot, are frequently away for work.

A little about myself: I'm 5'4 with brown eyes, glasses, and brown, mid-to-long hair, plus a sprinkle of faint freckles on my face. My body is fair; I'm not too skinny but do have a little belly. I have fair skin and enjoy parties now and then, but i'm mostly a homebody and a total movie fanatic. I love all kinds of music— a good song is a good song to me. I sometimes wish i had a sibling but my best friends Rosa and Megan are like family. We've been inseparable since the 3rd grade.

They Meet

I can't believe it's finally my senior year! It's such a bittersweet feeling -- I'm totally ready to be done with school, but it also feels like just yesterday I was heading off to my first day of first grade. But anyway, I've been debating whether to dress cute or comfortable since, unfortunately, I still have to go to school. I've decided on a plain black semi-cropped shirt with some olive green cargo pants and my trusty black high-top converse. For makeup, I'm keeping it light, totally clean girl aesthetic of me, and I slicked my hair back into a bun. After texting Megan, one of my best friends, to let her know I'm ready, I head downstairs to the kitchen to grab a granola bar and one of those breakfast to go drinks. I hear a honk outside my house it must be Rosa and Megan, my two besties.

*skip car ride*

It's like scene from a movie we all stand together in front of the school. Rosa says, "Well, here we are again," and Megan adds, "Yeah, but this time we're seniors." I chime in, "And we're going to rule the school!" with a laugh. It's so cool that the three of us have four classes together. " Ms. Morgan must have learned from the past three years not to put us in all the same classes" I joke "Yeah given all the times we had to be separated but still kept talking to each other" Megan adds with a laugh. After we say our goodbyes, I head to my first class of the day. While studying my schedule, I accidentally bump into someone. " Oh I'm sor-" i cut off " No trust me it's my fault" he says with a gentle smile "Yeah I had some fault not looking up and all" I playfully say. The bell rings signaling it's time to get to class, " Well I better get going" the stranger says I nod and give him a little smile before I leave as I'm walking away I turn back around to see him still looking at me I face forward I begin to think, who was that?

I get to my first class, trying not to think about the guy I bumped into. I couldn't help but wonder why I've never seen him before. So, I decided to text the girls about it.

Me - Hey guys, you'd never believe what just happened

R🌹- What !?

M🩷- What!?

Me- I just ran into this really cute guy 🤭

M🩷- How cute😗?

Me- Okay, first dibs, and based on looks i'd give him a ... 8.5

R🌹- Em I know it's not any of my business but what about dean?

Dean. My ex boyfriend of two and a half years. We had a challenging relationship, and even though we broke up, we would still talk about getting back together. But this past summer, something changed, and i couldn't stay in that forever

Me- I don't know, I gave up on that. I still love him but i just can't do it anymore.

R🌹- You know i'm just looking out for you i just want you to be happy Em so tell us all about this 8.5 .. based off looks

Me- There's not much to tell. We bumped into each other in the hallway, said sorry and went out separate ways

M🩷 - Well if you see again and we're with you point him out

R🌹- yeah and if we're not try to sneak a picture 🤭

Lunch finally arrived, the girls texted me saying they're in the cafeteria. I texted back saying okay, but I had to use the bathroom. As I walked out of the bathroom, I hear a thud.. please don't tell me I accidentally hit someone with the door, I ran outside to see my victim. He groans while holding his head "Careful with that!" he says " I'm sorry, but what do you have against the door?" I ask as I try to hold in my laughter " Apparently my face" he laughs as I help him off the floor and then I realized it was the guy from earlier this morning "We have to stop meeting like this" I joked, he just looks at me weird " Damn how hard did I hit you?" I asked while touching his head "We met?" he asked confusingly " Yeah we bumped into each other earlier this morning" I say trying to jog his memory. " Hey are you sure you're okay?" I concernedly asked " Yeah I'm just gonna head to the nurse thanks tho" he says as he walks off rubbing his head. I see Rosa and Megan coming my way " Hey Em! Who was that?" Megan asked, I explained what happened and they just start laughing, " But I must've hit him pretty hard because he didn't remember us bumping into each other" I added " I'm not surprised you probably gave that poor guy a concussion" Rosa teased. I roll my eyes as we walk to the cafeteria as we're sitting at our table I can't seem to get this guy out of my mind, I felt bad I kept thinking how he must not like me because of how many times I already hit him and it's barely the first day. School finally ends and I still haven't seen him I genuinely wanted to apologize, the girls and I make our way back to my house we hang our for awhile until they both get called home. We say our goodbyes they leave and I close and lock the door, I head upstairs to my room take a quick shower put on a big t-shirt and shorts and put on a movie and caught myself falling asleep.

Authors Note : Did anyone catch the grease reference 😂 anyways this is kind of my first story hope you guys liked it lmk if y'all want more xoxo J🩷

#fanfic #writing #dolan twins #magcon #vampire diaries #grease

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shepherdtostars · 2 years

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ffxivwrite day 21: solution

The ladders in the library have been replaced recently. They glide across the stacks on silent wheels, allowing Mel to reach the upper shelves, tomes long forgotten to the more frequented texts below. It’s easier for the mammets to grab lower ones.

Mel knows he should just act the puppets to fetch the books for him, but he values the silence, the time alone with his thoughts.

His muscles still ached from training this morning. Up at dawn with tutors, running through the positions the Orphne family had perfected over decades. Mel could do each one easily now, a dance with the foil in hand, but the magic never came. No matter how perfect his footwork was, the precision of his incantation, how hard he tried to pull at his aether, the magic never answered the call.

He reached for a tome, Early Incantations of the Mhach Era, adding it to the pile in his arms. Slowly he climbs back down the ladder, taking his time on wobbly legs. When he touches down on marble, he resists the urge to sit right there on the ground and meanders towards the study desks.

Laying down his books, his ears flick, hearing the door to the archives open. He turns, but sees no one.

The aetheric lights start to go out one by one, darkness starting to pool in the archives and Mel blinks rapidly, eyes adjusting to the near pitch black. His head darts, a hand clutching the desk in worry. Maybe the leylines were disrupted? Or maybe an experiment had pulled to much power to cause the blackout-

But he can feel it, in the darkness, someone behind him. It’s more instinct that anything that causes him to move, stumbling forward behind whipping around.

Illuminated by a small red light in his hand, Gilroy Marten stands behind him, smiling in the deep shadows. “You sensed me coming in.”

Mel takes a long while to find his voice. “Y-Yes. The door opened. Then…”

“You knew I was behind you.” Gilroy’s hand flicks out, and the aetheric lanterns glow again, the room filling with low-light. “How?”

“I just… Felt the aether.”

“But I was masking my signature.”

Mel’s eyes grow wide. “You can do… Do that?”

Gilroy sweeps around to Mel’s desk, examining the tomes. “The kind of precise aetheric manipulation is my specialty.” He hums approvingly at Mel’s choice of research. “I was watching you earlier today. You seem as precise as I am.”

“T-Thank you.” Mel takes a deep breath, hands linked behind his back, squeezing hard. “I-I appreciate the compliment, Ser. But I’m… My aetheric control i-is severely lacking.”

“But you know the incantations back to front.”

Mel nods, not trusting his voice to come out steady.

Gilroy circles him and Mel tries to stay as still as possible. His father had spoken of Gilroy in hushed tones with other Forum members. That his experiments were dangerous, but the results were undeniably worthwhile. He didn’t often take on apprentices, unlike other archons that had multiple students under them.

Those students he did take on, they excelled in all their classes. Became archons. Left Sharlayan to pursue their studies with the blessings of the Forum in spades.

“If I told you I was working on an experiment,” Gilroy ventures, “one I think you would be perfect, would you be interested?”

Mel’s stomach turns in surprise as he stares. “Of course. It’d be an h-honour.”

“Your grades are better than most of your peers, and I can see your dedication. And your aetheric… Hiccups, well, my experiments will find a solution to that, I’m sure.” Gilroy smiles at him, indulgent. “Which is why you’re going to be useful, Mel. Others may have overlooked you, but I see your potential.”

Mel’s ears pop up, blinking. “Mel? Isn’t that-”

“What your friends call you. I figured I could use it, since you don’t like your given name.”

Eyes going wide, Mel can’t manage his emotions, can’t figure out what to feel other than… Seen? Understood?

His ears fold down, sheepish. “Thank you, Ser Marten.”

Gilroy doesn’t correct him to use his first name. Just gestures for Mel to follow.

And he does.

#ffxivwrites #writing

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spilledkauffie · 3 years

Text

Dating Bruce Wayne HCs 🦇

xFemale!Reader // I just really love my batbaby, I wrote this for comfort at 3am. Sorry, it’s a little long!

Penthouse / The Mansion — when Bruce starts dating you he very quickly offers you a key to his penthouse and the mansion. While he means it out of trust and care for you, he also means it as a form of safety. Knowing that you can find a refuge in one of his safe houses makes him feel a little more at ease when things get seriously dangerous in the city. Once or twice he’s even sent you specifically to the mansion since it’s farther away from the inner city and he knows you’ll be safest there. || “you’re sure about this?” You question, amazed that Gotham’s richest Just handed over the keys to his house, “I mean I’m absolutely flattered, but I not allowed to just come over anytime-“ // “yes, you are,” Bruce assures you, “Wayne manor is as good as yours,” he shrugs with a half smile, seeing your face, “you know Alfred always likes company too.”

↳ he also explains that he really wouldn’t mind if you spent most of you time at his place. “Are you asking me to move in?” You smile, heart racing afraid he’d say no. “I don’t mean to impose, but here’s plenty of room, I’d love to have you there, after all the place could use a woman’s touch,” he blinks lovingly. “And so could you, Master Wayne,” Alfred comments walking by.

Driving the Lamborghini — you were shocked when he let you drive after you commented how much you loved his car. “Really?” You smiled, eyebrows raised, “but what if something happens- I- I won’t try to cause anything, but just what if-“ Bruce just smiles, looking over to you from the passenger seat, “if anything goes wrong, I’ll buy a new one, okay? Don’t worry, just have some fun.”

When You Found Out — Gotham isn’t a hard place to find yourself endangered in. Therefore when the Dark Knight showed up in the nick of time you found it curious that of all the crime situations he’d save you. It all made sense however when he dropped the gravely voice to quietly ask you, “are you okay?” // it took you a moment, looking over what you could see of his face, meeting his eyes you knew exactly who it was “Bruce?!” You say shocked, but he just repeats the question softly, “y-yeah, I’m okay, a little shook up, but-” // “I’m taking you back to stay with Alfred for the rest of the night. I promise I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

Falling asleep — since Bruce is usually up all night and still manages to make himself available for any Wayne company meetings, he is tired! More often than not he’ll fall asleep during the daytime hours. || frequently, you’ll be reading on the couch and he’ll come rest his head in your lap, hooking an arm under your knee and using your thighs as a pillow, before questioning what you’re reading. When you tell him he asks you to read aloud, naturally doing so, you stroke your free hand through his hair, gently fluffing it every now and then. Eventually, you hear him softly breathing, sound asleep. Typically you’ll stop reading aloud and just let him sleep in quiet.

↳ sometimes when you had plans for a day, you opt to cancel them based on how tired he is when he gets back. Finding him in his study, practically falling asleep at his desk, you let him know you’ll be staying home. Standing next to his chair, you tenderly reach your hand across his shoulders, rubbing them, when he stirs you tell him, “What? No, but you really wanted to go-“ he starts, sitting up a little more, looking up at you sweetly. “Bruce, I just want to spend time with you,” you almost laugh at how determined he is to wear himself out, “I don’t want to exhaust you, I really don’t mind staying home, as long as you’re home.” With that he pulls you into his lap; you reach your arms around his shoulders and he nuzzles against your chest, arms snug around your waist. You don’t mind one bit that he falls asleep, you just play with the tops of his hair stroking the back of his neck, hugging him a little closer, simply glad that he’s home & safe.

Hyper-protective — naturally, Bruce is extremely protective of you. Bruce has a really good understanding of independence, but he also knows the kind of guys in the elite society of Gotham (aka the people you’ll meet at parties he’s invited to). He’s always at your side, and loves to have you at his side at all times. Someone gets a little too friendly and Bruce is phenomenal at shutting them down. Typically they’ll only verbally address you, but should they ever try anything it’s a comfort knowing Bruce could, well, kick their ass if they laid so much as a finger on you.

Parties — Bruce can always tell when you’re feeling uncomfortable in the high-class society, you start leaning into him more and more, getting gradually more clingy as the night goes on. Bruce is a master as getting out of situations with easy excuses, so when he gives ones without you having to ask you fall in love just a little bit more.

Long Nights in the Batcave — after you found out, there are some nights you just can’t sleep knowing Bruce is out there getting into Heaven knows what kind of danger. Alfred often finds you sitting up in the Batcave with a hot cup of tea or sometimes coffee, so you can stay awake. Alfred’s become you buddy at staying up, most of the time, rarely he calls it a night, but when he does it’s usually because Bruce told him it was going to be an easy mission or it was just investigative. Alfred asks if you’re going to retire as well, “I know he would want me to just go to bed and not worry,” you admit, pulling your knees into yourself more, “but I just can’t help but worry about him.” Alfred watches you keeping a keen eye on the the tracking screen, “I know what you mean, I’m glad he’ll have someone much prettier to come back to now though.”

↳ when Bruce finds you sitting alone in the Batcave upon his return, he’s both relieved to see you and mildly frustrated that you didn’t get any sleep all thanks to him. “I thought you said you were going to try and get some sleep,” he calls to you, slipping off the mask as he makes his way over to you. “I was just worried,” you say in a small voice, sniffling, pressing the tea cup closer to your chest, in an attempt for some warmth in the cave. Sighing quietly, Bruce looked you over, “you should head upstairs, you’re freezing, I can tell.” Despite his efforts, you tell him you’ll wait until he’s ready too. So, Bruce wraps the heavy velvet cape around your shoulder in the meantime.

Aftercare — unlike some heroes, Bruce has the scars to prove it. He comes home bruised, bleeding, sometimes worse. You do everything you can to help with his injuries, even if that means just holding an icepack to the middle of his back. // Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bruce rests his forearms on his thighs, bending over slightly as you gently press the ice filled bag to his raspberry tinted shoulder. When he grumbles at the cold, you whisper "sorry" stroking up and down his bicep with your free hand as you pepper kisses across his back. Bruce takes your hand in his, turns to kiss your knuckles, and whispers against your skin, "thank you, somehow it feels better with you."

Aftermath — Bruce is usually a little more clingy after a serious fight with some injuries. He's thinking about what he could have lost, you, and if you'd lost him how guilty he would feel knowing he left you alone. Typically he also takes a night or two off, to recover, in which you can actually have some normalcy (save for him going down to the Batcave) in life. You stay with him in bed while he sleeps in, cuddling him until he wakes up and even then. You also help Alfred make him breakfast in bed, so he can take it easy for just a little while longer. // When it's really bad, you even take off work to stay with him. Combing his hair out of his face, you're the first thing Bruce wakes up to, "hey,. . .aren't you supposed to be downtown?" he asks, still groggy. "I took a few days off," you explain. "Did you tell him you were nursing Batman back to health?" He laughs. "No," you sigh, "I told him Bruce Wayne would buy out his business if he didn't give me two days off," you smile. "Oh, that makes things much easier then," Bruce kisses your wrist smiles up at you.

Batman voice — it has definitely happened once or twice, where Bruce will accidentally use the "Batman voice" on you, not even in arguments, but just in everyday things. Smiling widely after he address you with it, you turn with your hands on your hips, "did you just use your batman voice on me?" you nearly laugh, "what. . . no," he tries to cover up. "You totally did!" You laugh this time. "No-" but before he can finish his sentence you're already mimicking his batman voice standing in your most macho stance, walking towards him between giggles, "alright, alright," Bruce grabs you by the waist, pulling you close, "it just slipped out."

Daytime Sex — since he's preoccupied during the night (or at least most nights), Bruce usually manages to steal you away from whatever you're doing for awhile. He starts out fairly subtle, coming up behind you whilst you're working on your laptop, he moves your hair to one side and begins kissing the side of your neck softly. "Mmm, hi," you giggle, biting in your lower lip. "Hi," he noses your hair, "how busy are you?" You smile, looking over your shoulder as his hands slip down your sides, "how busy do you want me to be?" He pulls back, "with work? Not very. With me? Very." Naturally he sweeps you off your feet to the bedroom, or at least a bedroom when you're at the manor.

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oonajaeadira · 2 years

Text

The Sentimental Defacement of Homemade Cookies

(CHRISTMAS COOKIES - Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (not truly “paired” in this fic, but “potential,” definitely real care between them)

Warnings: soft!Javi G. He just…ruins me. Stupid amounts of fluff and joy.

Summary: Javi is your boss, and you’re making some cookies.

A/N: I wasn’t gonna write for Javi G until the movie came out. But then the Writer Wednesday prompt appeared and I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF BECAUSE I LOVE HIM ALREADY.

Thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape for their amazing work prompting, organizing, and compiling Writer Wednesday!

You’re piping an eyebrow onto a gingerbread man and he goes from surprised to pissed off in an instant when you jump at Javi’s entrance behind you–

“Oh! Sunday! You are here! What are you doing in the kitchen? We have a cook if you need something made…where is…the cook…”

You can hear him spinning wildly in the huge villa kitchen as if he can’t just be satisfied with turning his head.

“It’s his day off, Mr. Gutierrez, remember? He’s going to be cooking all day tomorrow to prepare for your Christmas party so it’s better for him to take today than–”

“Are these for the party!?” He swoops in and grabs a cookie off your sheet, a snowflake, the prettiest one, the one you piped the heaviest detail on before deciding it was too much effort to do the whole batch like that and decided to save it especially for…

…the absolute look of glee on his face as he bites into it…you can’t be mad at that.

He stands there in a light colored button up, sleeves rolled up, looking very casual and comfortable, (even though you know exactly how expensive that shirt was), breezy, beautiful curls moving in the cross current between the windows of the open space.

“Mmm! This is wonderful–what is this?” He takes another bite, studying the cookie top and bottom as if it has a designer label on it, and you barely hold back a laugh as you turn back to the piping.

“It’s just a soft ginger cookie with almond icing. They’re my grandmother’s recipe. I was missing home so I thought I’d make some. And no. They’re not for the party.”

You can feel him hovering over your shoulder, no sense of personal space. It’s something you’ve gotten used to in the months of being his personal assistant, come to realize he isn’t threatening, just…earnest?

Genuine. Javi is genuine. Without pretense. Sure, he may treat you more like a friend than an assistant and you may sometimes have to be the one to remind him that you do have to get work done for him from time to time. You’ve learned that he prefers your shoulder to a tissue when he weeps (often), and that he expresses his happiest emotions by squeezing anything near him…which is frequently you (more often). But. He treats you kindly and gives you run of the house, actually listens to you when you have advice or schedules to heap on him, gives you everything you ask for without question, seemingly frustrated that you use that advantage sparingly. He wants your opinion constantly, refusing to buy an article of clothing unless you say the words “yes for God’s sake buy it if you want it, it would look good on you,” assigns you movie scripts to read so he can have somebody to discuss them with at ungodly hours of the night, and trusts you so much that he insists you be the one to pick out the selection for Sunday movie night (courtyard viewing, mandatory attendance by the entire house and staff).

At first, you thought this last detail was why he called you Sunday. But he had blinked at that assumption and explained “Like the movie. His Girl Friday. You are my Girl Friday. But Sunday is more special than Friday. It is a holy day and you are sweet like an angel. And there’s sun in it. Sunday fits better. My Girl Sunday.”

That had set you staring out over the water from the balcony, with probably the stupidest look on your gob, not sure if you felt more amused or touched. It was the first of many genuine moments when Javi would make you understand without warning or filter just how absurdly highly he valued you, and you’ve since gotten better at schooling your face.

In the warm, sunlit kitchen, he dips his own face low around your shoulder into your periphery, blatantly worried. “You are missing home? Let me send you home for Christmas.You can use my jet, my pilot. I could call him–”

You laugh, piping a perfect grin on a gingerbread man. “Thank you, Mr. Gutierrez. I am completely capable of calling on Mateo myself. I’ve arranged many flights for you, remember?”

“Do you want to go?”

The sincere concern in his voice tears your attention away from the sheet of cookies and into his pained, puppy-dog eyes.

“No, sir. Truly. I’m happy to be here. I wouldn’t miss your Christmas party for the world.” Judging by that smile, you’ve just made his entire week. He loves a good party and you know nothing would make him happier than if you were there for it. You help him turn it up a notch with a quiet smile of your own…and by taking his hand and curling it around the piping bag. “You wanna help me with these?”

Ever willing and eager, he steps up to the counter, surveying the wintery shapes in front of him, none of them native to the south of Spain, but welcome and delightful to him all the same. “What do I do?” The question is warranted, but of course he doesn’t wait for an answer and just squeezes the bag hard, giving one gingerbread man a very large, very pornographic appendage–

–and getting red icing all over his very expensive shirt in the process.

Your shriek causes him to jump. “Shit! Oh no! No! Shiiiiiit….” Immediately grabbing for a towel, you try to mitigate the damage of the red dye on the pastel silk, your hands shaking, all a fluster.

But he collects your hands, calmly--so calmly--closing them in completely with his own, immediately doing whatever he can to put an end to your dismay. “Shhh. Shhh, Sunday, it is alright. Don’t worry about this.”

“Aw shit, I’m sorry. It’s such a nice shirt… I just…I really like it…”

“Shh. It is alright. I have two more! Do you want one?”

The unannounced laugh this pulls out of you yanks all of the panic away with it and you relax into it, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “No, sir. Thank you. I should have given you an apron. That’s on me.”

“Well, no,” he says, smiling brightly, anticipating his own joke, “It is on my shirt.” As you continue to press your lips into a straight line and shake your head through a suppressed giggle, he jostles your shoulder lightly and grins widely into your face. “You get it, huh? It is on me? Because the red is on my shirt?”

“Yes, yes okay! Stop trying to cheer me up. I’m cheered. Mercy!”

Once you’ve both exploded in laughter again and calmed down with a sigh, he looks over the carnage on the counter. It’s not too bad.

“I’m sorry that I have ruined your beautiful work. I hope these are not for anything special.”

Your sigh arrives heavily with the knowledge of what comes next, ready to surrender to a truly Christmasy moment. “They are, Mr. Gutierrez. They’re for you.”

He gasps, wide, slowly. Genuinely. Just like he does everything else. “Really??”

“Yes, sir,” you smile. “Dig in. I’d tell you to wait until the icing’s set, but it doesn’t really matter now.” You indicate the stain on his–again–very cringingly expensive shirt.

But he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t care. He’s just looking at the cookies like they’re worth ten silk shirts. A thousand shirts.

Or–you can almost hear him saying it–just one of you.

It causes your cheeks to flood with warmth.

“Can I have the one with the dick?” he whispers.

You school your face.

“Yes, sir. You can have the one with the dick. You can have them all. Merry Christmas.”

________________

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

#writer wednesday #tuwomt #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent

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pen-observing · 3 years

Text

request: how lucifer, mammon, satan, belphegor and diavolo react and find out about you having 'I now own your soul' under the terms and conditions of a webpage.

Lucifer:

While Lucifer is certainly busy all the time, and tries to balance it by having you in his study as he works, he can’t hide how tired he has actually been for the past 4 weeks.

All you know is that Diavolo has made the meetings more frequent and they are taking a toll on him

And since he means that much to you, regardless of if you wish to acknowledge it or not, you have to ask what is going on once he stands up and walks over to reach for another bottle from his shelf Lucifer does not drink that often and he certainly doesn’t try to avoid work by drinking.

Just what could be making him act this way?

“Lucifer, you have to tell me what is going on.”

He stands on his side of the desk just pouring another glass down.

Curse him for being elegant and showing his forearms while doing so!

And then he dares to look at you with full focus and furrowed eyebrows and he is about to say something and he looks like-

‘no. You are human.’

Fuck.

“Come on! You know I won’t tell anyone!”

He does trust you at least after so long.

"Very well. I will tell you since it has something to do with a human. If, by any chance, you spread the information, the price you pay will be a heavy one."

He can’t intimidate you that much but you know when he is serious.

"You see, recently, Diavolo has had more issues than ever with someone we like to call ‘code soul stealer"

“Uhn,, and that is?”

He takes a sip of his drink and holds the glass while looking at you.

“Apparently, a pesky human added ‘I now own your soul’ in their terms and conditions on a web page and some application. With this, they have stolen many souls and Diavolo has grown even more concerned these past few weeks since the page is just gaining popularity.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Thats you that he is calling a pesky human! You only did it as a joke because you saw a meme! It wasn’t supposed to make an enemy out of you to the prince of hell!

How are you supposed to tell Lucifer that? How will he react?

Maybe if you do tell him it will actually create more good than harm?

Or, you could hide it for the rest of your life and- no! The honest way with Lucifer is the best way. He trusts you enough so you have to trust him too!

“Lucifer...I am the pesky human you are referring to...”

He drops the glass.

“I swear I had no idea souls were actually real and now I own a lot of them! O-On the good side I went viral 4 weeks ago so...oh, that is why you’ve been so busy....sorry.”

Lucifer says nothing.

He just falls into the chair in the most dramatic way you’ve ever seen.

He covers his face with both hands and groans into them loudly.

If you were not ‘code soul stealer’ you would laugh at him right now. But he has to figure out a way to protect you now.

Mammon:

You see, dating Mammon means that you two will bicker plenty.

However, it is usually silly stuff that you bicker about like; are gold or silver lines better on this cup of tea or not?

He just loves you too much to get into a serious argument with you.

However, Levi dragged you both to play a spy/heist game that just came out and Mammon cannot accept to lose such a challenge.

He is not proud that people call him thief, but he is proud and believes he has the skills to back up his many enrichment-plans

So the fact that you won against him for 3 times in a row is UNNACCEPTABLE under this dark, dark sky.

Mammon denies it all. ‘i went easy on you’; ‘I did it cuz you are happy when you win’ and ‘please, don’t you know who I am? I am THE Mammon!”

And while he is cute while bickering, sometimes it becomes unbearable.

So, you do what any normal human would: you challenge him by listing your biggest ‘heist’ ever.

“You don’t know who you are talking to! I have created a heist unlike any other! I have stolen a million souls so far! The DevilTV refers to me as – unstoppable soul collector!”

Levi left long ago so Mammon is standing there completely stunned with the stupidest look on his face so far. He kind of looks like a blowfish.

Still, he runs and puts a hand over your mouth and whispers:

“Don’t yell! We don’t want others to know that we run that business!”

Excuse him? Who is this –we- he speaks of?

“You will add your boyfriend to those plans, won’t you?”

Mammon will not let shock stand in the way of money or souls. You can explain to him how you managed that later but for now – just add him as your accomplice.

Satan:

You love your boyfriend.

You really, really do.

You love seeing him so excited and focused on finding clues to the newest Devildom mystery that you chose to let him have his fun by not telling him YOU were the one he was searching for.

And while you love him that much, you are about to ruin the whole game.

Why does he think it is appropriate to own 48 pairs of the same Sherlock Holmes outfit with THE UGLIEST MATCHING HATS YOU HAVE EVER LAID YOUR EYES ON.

First, he wore them in his ‘detective office’ only. Also known as the Lamentation house storage room for cleaning products. And that was fine, it was.

But then he started to wear them inside the house and in the garden. The saddest day was when a cat knocked the ugly hat off and ran away with it. Oh praise that cat! Praise the little paws!

However, he has gone too far.

He knows no bounds and shows no signs of stopping.

He started wearing the outfits OUTSIDE! In the middle of cobblestone paths of the main street while you were trying to have a nice date!

"Who knows where the soul snatching culprit could be hiding? I must wear this outfit everywhere to catch their clues. Trust me.”

That is it.

If one more iguana-looking-ass demon points their finger at you two and snickers as you walk past – he will have a rude wake up call.

How is it possible that he is trying to catch the culprit that is you but doesn’t pay any attention to you?

So, when you arrive home and he walks into the mop closet to add another unrelated photo to his crazy whiteboard as a clue – you tell him to sit down for a moment.

“Satan, honey, I have something to tell you about your soul snatching culprit.”

That definitely got his attention.

Finally! He is actually looking at you!

You lean down and gently kiss his head.

“I am the culprit you’re looking for. How does it feel to completely miss something right under your nose?”

He freezes up and throws a pen towards the whiteboard. It just bounces off and hits him in the back.

“You....you mean to tell me that,,, the biggest Devil Mystery TV phenomenon is ACTUALLY YOU?”

You are met with complete disbelief. Satan demands a detailed explanation on how you did it. He even tells you to use his whiteboard to retrace your steps!

...good luck...

Belphegor:

Will Belphegor ever actually publicly say that he has changed because of you? No.

Will he ever actually admit that to other brothers besides Beel when they’re talking in the late hours of the night in their room? Oh, absolutely not.

Will he tell you? Yes.

Yes but.. He will leave something out.

Sometimes Belphie looks at how you smile and remembers things that make him famous in this realm.

Yes, he is one of the most powerful demons and yes, he has a reputation of rebellion and the biggest steak of unattendance in RAD but

He is also a fairly famous scholar.

His papers and research are cited on the regular.

But when you smile and say a witty joke – he remembers that most of them focus around him proving just how dumb or naïve humans actually are.

But, you’re human and he hopes that you never see those.

Except that you do.

Because he is so famous it is no surprise that while looking for research papers to reference for your next assignment you saw his name while browsing through

And while you love him - you will not allow him to just diss the whole mankind.

So, you grab one of them from the library. Walk home, go to the attic while he is napping and open it up, putting it right on his face.

It takes a couple of seconds but he feels something is wrong and his hand reaches for it.

When he pulls it away, he is met with his thesis that was further developed from the seduction speech class assignment.

It sets it up as: ‘Seduction speech as a matter of blatant deception that humans always fall for but could never recreate.’

You are not even that mad at it to be honest.

But proving him wrong is always fun. And little does he know about your biggest secret ever.

“I will cut right to the chase and say – fix your bangs I want to see the way your eyes look when I tell you this!”

“I wonder who messed up my bangs with the academic paper in the first place?” is what he replies but his hand is already on his forehead.

“Whatever. Prepare to be amazed! I am the one the elders of the devildom are always ranting about on TV! Yes, I am the ‘pesky little human’ who is stealing away ‘edible’ souls! How is that for your thesis now? Is that not true deception?!”

He likes your smile still. You’re standing in front of the bed looking at him with sparkling eyes and clenched fists while striking a pose. It is silly really but he smiles.

Because you are.

And while he will ask you a bit more about that claim, he is just happy to know that maybe his next academic paper (which everyone eagerly awaits) will be tad more positive to your kind.

Diavolo:

You got an urgent call from Barbatos.

On the doorstep he told you that Diavolo needs you in his study.

What could you do that Barbatos can’t and will help Diavolo? Does such a thing even exist?

You walk inside of his office and are pretty sure Barbatos did not want to go inside because of the fact that a rat could be hiding under the mountain of papers that are all around the room.

Usually, Diavolo immediately stands up, lights up the room with his smile and stretches out his hands for a hug.

Now? He hears the doors open and looks at you with a weak smile while his head is resting on his elbows from behind the desk.

He has never looked worse.

“Barbatos said you called for me?”

You are unsure where to begin with this so you state a fact while thinking of questions to ask.

“He has? I have done no such thing?”

Great. Now both of you are confused.

“Can you tell me what is going on?”

Diavolo sighs and his smile is still nowhere to be seen.

“The elders have been so annoying lately. I understand that the biggest threat to the Devildom and everyone’s life here still has not been identified but there is nothing I can do except search!”

Just what threat is that? What could be making Diavolo so miserable?

“They keep comparing me to my father without actually offering any ways of fixing this!”

“I will try to offer some way if you tell me what the threat is!”

There you are, making a grand exclamation and promise while trying to avoid papers on the floor. Diavolo sighs again.

“A human is ruining our business! They somehow set up a page that allowed them to own souls by consent in some application under the terms and conditions. I mean, this has never happened before! Humans were never expected to think of that or have access to such means! And the name they used was fake. How am I supposed to find them and then burn them in the darkest pits of hell as the elders want me to?”

You stop trying to avoid the papers.

Did...did he just say darkest pits of hell? Did he just say the elders want YOU burned?!

How are you supposed to fix this? It was a fucking joke! You did not imagine this could ever happen!

“Diavolo you promised you would protect me no matter what, right?”

His eyes are serious when you say that. “Yes. I will. Is something amiss?”

“Diavolo.... I am the enemy your elders want to burn.. PLEASE DON’T LET THEM! MY SKIN JUST ADJUSTED TO THIS TEMPERATURE!”

Diavolo looks at you and laughs like never before. It is cute, it is childlike. His laugh finally lights up the room.

He thinks you are joking.

He thinks you are joking and abruptly stops once he realizes that you did not join in on the laugh.

You were just trying to crack a joke and make him feel better, right? There is no way that is true, right? But judging from your reaction he knows it is.

So, he grows serious once more.

He runs to embrace you.

“Please tell me you are willing to make a compromise because the elders do not care about how your skin adjusts to the temperature.”

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Text

Good afternoon, this has been in the works for a while now and I finally got around to finishing it and being pretty content of it (this is gonna go up on AO3 soon along with the others that aren’t request) but I wanted to post it here first. Enjoy!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

“Wish you were here right now

All of the things I'd do”

Gaming was always an escape.

From childhood to adulthood. There was some gaming equipment in your hands, controls, handhelds, keyboards and so on. There was just something calming about entering a fantasy world and immersing yourself in scenery and stories that made you stray from bad days and long nights.

For Donatello it was the same.

On one of his many supply scavenges Splinter had found a dumpster near a toy store that was going out of business. It was a memorable haul for them. What they expected to be routine things mixed with some type of groceries had turned into literal Christmas in July. Stuffed animals, board games, action figures and even a few gaming consoles with some cartridges and cd’s. Noticeably they were considered damaged or improperly manufactured, but they didn’t care and for Donnie he had spent a good week and a half fixing up the Nintendo and Play Station 2 consoles back into working conditions.

That alone had been plenty for him but nevertheless Mikey being so excited about playing wanted him to join him. They had played for hours and each disc or cartridge they tried out held a new story, a new set of controls to learn, new visuals and such. He was immediately hooked.

When he had gotten the first parts to start building a PC from scratch he knew there would be another world of possibilities for games.

Now gaming is a leisure for Donnie. Something he does for enjoyment and an escape when his projects become too much. The world of online gaming allowed him to also explore the possibilities of chatting with others though, the humans they were not allowed to see or speak to (with the exception of their Hogosha) but needless to say it wasn’t like Donnie broadcasted his identity and whereabouts. More so these people only came to game and speak game.

Donnie absolutely does detest the unnecessary sexism that gaming brings. Many a time he had read on chats or heard on his head set such derogatory comments thrown at female players. Never the one to stand such misogynistic behavior (he was raised better and had heard enough horror stories from April) he always shot that shit down quickly. Given his status as being far above his gaming peers he had developed respect and none of them ever shot back at him.

That’s how he runs into you.

On the opposing team nonetheless.

Once your female voice ran through the ears of the group he had been stuck in, the comments began to rain down. Some colorful, some lazy and some downright disgusting. Donnie had had enough and with some of his more illegal methods, had managed to push out the players in his party and send the audio recording to the email of the developers.

On exceptionally petty days he did far worse.

You had been stunned, wondering why the gang of immature boys had suddenly disappeared. Only one of them remained with the gamer tag specifying ‘Don_DuzMachines’ you couldn’t help but giggle at it.

You had asked if the sudden disappearance had been a weird glitch and if Don (as you assumed you should call him) had anything to do about it.

“Let’s just say I’ve got my ways” His soft voice rang through your headset.

“Well it’s hardly the first time I’ve had a gang of prepubescent boys tell me to suck their dicks” You started to move away in the map but stopped abruptly.

“Hey do you wanna play something else?” You asked tentatively. “Figured the least I can do is thank you” Donnie sat back pensively, well there was no harm in that now was there?

And so it started innocently.

Co-op games even the occasional match against one another. Each game you two always spoke through your headsets. Mostly banter about strategy or directions for who to do what or the occasional friendly jabs. You hadn’t revealed much that wasn’t the nickname you used as your gamer tag, and well Don had basically done the same.

That is until you decide to poke a little into his life. “You go to college?” You had asked, fingers gliding over the keyboard as you both partook in a raid. Donnie hadn’t expected such a question and he didn’t necessarily want to divulge much, he opted for a more ambiguous response. “I do my own studying, sort of like home schooling if you will?” Well he wasn’t wrong, Splinter had been both father and teacher to them, Donnie had just excelled more quickly and soon enough he was teaching his brothers on the academic side.

“You broke too, huh? Trust me it’s not worth the insane debt you’ll develop in six years that’ll take forty years to pay off” You chuckled with a hint of bitterness, Donnie couldn’t help but laugh and snort.

“That’s cute” You said sincerely. Donnie smiled, heat creeping up his neck.

How innocent things had been at the start.

For six months the two of you divulged little to no information. You never asked to video chat and Donnie never asked for your socials. It had just been a mutual agreement to keep the mystery that just wasn’t verbalized. Maybe it was for the better, because surely what had began as a gaming buddies situation had escalated to, well Donnie couldn’t really explain.

The first instance the two of you had been stuck on a map solving intricate puzzles. It was one of the more relaxed games the two of your partook in together when you didn’t want to deal with other players in a lobby.

“Dating apps are a nightmare, they’re only worth it for getting dumb funny stories” You had been playing but also checking some of the matches you’ve gotten on a site. Donnie swallowed, why did that settle so oddly in his stomach?

“Well any funny ones you’d like to share?” Don asked curiously hoping he wasn’t over stepping any boundaries. “One guy wanted me to cover my feet in marmalade, I really almost hit fuck it and did it” You couldn’t help but smile when Don choked, coughed and bursted out laughing.

“What kink is that even related to? I mean I know people enjoy feet but marmalade?” He was bewildered. “Come on Don don’t kink shame the poor guy, who are you to police his eclectic culinary desires?” Now the two of you couldn’t help but burst into another fit of laughter. Both your avatars were idle standing, the game somewhat abandoned in favor for the conversation.

“Hey I’m not kink shaming, we all have our weird kinks” Donnie smiled sitting back on his swivel chair. You clicked out of the dating site, chin resting on your hand. “Are we finally having this conversation? Cause I love this shit, it’s my bread and butter” You sat back in your gaming chair, tucking your knees.

Donnie felt so shy but the barrier of mistery the two of you had built urged him on. He was curious, like stupid curious what you looked like and while he had everything to figure out exactly where you were, it wasn’t morally correct for him. So why not just indulge in the conversation?

“Well it’s not feet, sorry to disappoint” He heard you laugh, an infectious sound he had grown to enjoy so much. “Feet are so passé anyways, what about bondage?” You spun slowly in your chair, the sounds of Don adjusting and clicking on the keyboard ringing in your ears.

“Bondage is a go, especially sensory deprivation” He was checking some documents April had forwarded to him in regards to a case they were dealing with, but he could multitask. You made an approving noise, nodding while taking a sip of your drink. “Into that D/s stuff?” You asked wanting to see what else he might like.

“Well yeah, but I do enjoy more um... Fem Dom stuff” He finished up the email he wrote out for April and hit send. “A man with taste, not something we get often” You chuckled but decided to add. “I wouldn’t mind having a guy submit to me” You bit the inside of your cheek a little shy suddenly.

Something about that statement made heat spread south for Donnie. The concept of being dominated? By a woman? He peaked a look behind him, pushing one side of his headset down to hear what his brothers might be up to but he heard only music and chatting voices.

“What’s your favorite thing?” He inquired almost too softly.

“Erotic ASMR” There was no trace of embarrassment in your voice and that somehow made Donnie hot.

“Maybe we frequent the same sites for that” Don boldly threw out. You made an approving face before sitting forward and typing on your keyboard. A beat or two later Donnie saw an email notification from you on one of his many burner emails. He opened it finding links to audios from various sites all catered to erotic audios. Donnie whistled, this was a gold mine and true to his predictions you did indeed have some of his favorite sites to peruse.

“It’s not just male audios by the way, there’s women too” You sat back once again, nervously playing with your hair. “Thanks... Well I do like hearing both” Donnie confessed, voice avoiding a stutter.

You grinned. Oh he was even more fun that you could’ve expected.

Curiously enough that had been the tamest experience into yours and Donnie’s sex talks. Because it hadn’t really stopped at that, they progressively escalated little by little. Fave kinks had turned to fave sites, fave sites had turned into fave videos. Donnie never pictured he’d share his hidden folder with a stranger no less.

You nor Donnie could really say how the two of you had ended up one late night, with yet another abandoned game, talking about weird but satisfying cyber sex experiences. Some of your stories had been on the more comical side but a few had riled Donnie up to the point that he couldn’t ignore it. There was a shift in your voice as well, an allure that enticed him.

“Can I be honest?” You licked your suddenly dry lips. Donnie tensed momentarily, not sure what to expect. “Of course, please” You squeezed your thighs together, ‘please’ shouldn’t sound so good coming out of his mouth. You trace lazy circles on your thighs, something pushed you. “I’m kinda turned on by this...by talking to you about all this stuff” Maybe this was overstepping it, surely there was nothing wrong between two adult friends discussing such matters.

There was no need to tell Don that you had yearned to put a face to the name. But his hesitance spoke of insecurities and you could understand that.

“I am too...” Donnie looked up at what he called a ceiling in his home, the darkness of the sewer system and concrete. He’d never have a chance with you, it was a deeply rooted desire for intimacy and if virtually he could obtain it then so be it.

For all your boldness you felt a wave of bashfulness hit, crashed around your self confidence. Then Donnie steps up and you feel your toes curl in excitement. “Do you want to have a better experience?” Donnie runs both hands down his face, who was he to provide better experiences, he’d never even physically had a partner. The slow sigh that escapes your throat is comforting static in his headset. “Yeah, yeah I really do actually” You feel a smile etch itself on your lips.

“You can call me Donnie” It’s the closest to his name, and truthfully he really wants to hear you say it.

“Y/N,” You say to which Donnie makes an approving noise, he finds your name to be pretty. He rolls it in his mouth, testing the syllables, he can envision moaning it, well he wants to moan it if he can be completely honest. He wants to put a face to that name but he quickly pushes the thought out. There’s a pregnant pause where neither of you engage or make the first attempt. Not wanting to let this mood flee, Donnie swallows and closes his eyes. The hum of the abandoned game grounding him.

“Say my name again” It’s not a forceful demand, all the contrary he wants to hear the pitch in your voice when you say it, he wants to picture how each tone would variate depending on what he would do or say. “Donnie...” You smile to yourself when you say it, a hint of desire nestled in it and Don notices that and wants more of it.

There’s a lengthy sigh from your behalf, hands wandering up your thighs towards your chest. “I’d like to be there right now, would like to say it against your lips” Your bold confessions makes Donnie’s pulse quicken. He runs a ghosting touch up his plastron, the vision of a delicate hand doing it. The imaginary weight of you on his lap grinding down on his hard member. Donnie grips himself through his shorts a soft groan escaping his parted lips.

“Want you to kiss me” He swallows dryly, the approving noise you make pushing him forward. “Feel your lips all over, feel your mouth around me...” He lifts his hips, hand cupping himself and the small hitch in your breath is a sound he wants permanently recorded in his brain.

“God are you big? I bet you are” You kneed your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the sensitive nubs until they’re perked. Donnie smirks to himself, freeing his aching member and looking down at himself. Mutant genes aside he feels somewhat shamefully proud of his cock, he wonders if you would like it... deeply buried within you. “Yeah I am, I think you can take it something tells me” You catch that teasing tone and the urge to swallow him whole and make him see stars is too much.

Your hand finds its way into your underwear, the warm wetness making you moan as you tease your middle finger between the lips to find your sensitive nub there. You bite back another lengthy moan but recover enough to breathlessly say, “oh fuck, Donnie” and that very sound makes him shiver. Never did he think he’d hear something so temptingly good, said with such sincerity. God the things he would do to smell your arousal right now, to taste the wetness. “Push two fingers in slowly” Donnie almost pleas, his voice shakey, hand pumping his cock at a steady pace. You do as he wishes, your gutted moan making more precum gather at the tip of his member.

“God-shit- you sound so good, wish you were riding my big dick right now” He wants to chastise himself for saying something like that, but he can’t deny that statement shakes something in you. He can hear it, the sound of your fingers mixed with a continuously rising string of moans. “Ohmygod” Words tumble out strewn together by your pleasure. “Donnie please, please fuck me harder” That alone makes him sit up and push forwards, one hand on his desk as the other works himself up in upward twisting strokes.

Donnie can’t erase the idea of slamming into you right here on his desk, maybe bent over, maybe you’ll let him cum on your face...

He pushes the idea away, he can’t envision your face now, not right now, not when your moans have you sounding this deliciously in need. You’re plunging two fingers into your core as your free hand runs firm circles around your clit. “Christ Donnie you sound so good baby” You moan, perspiration covering your body and Donnie can only groan his approval.

There’s a few minutes where it’s just the two of you lost in your own pleasure together. The constant chants of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and ‘yes’ mixed between the two of you. “Say it... again” Donnie groans out, hand quickening, briefly gathering some saliva and letting it fall on his hard member for better traction. “Don-oh, Donnie cum in me!” You’re so far gone, not caring what comes out of your mouth. The wet sounds in your head set and a vibration you figured could be static mixed with his groans was all you heard.

Donnie’s hips twitch, feels that request swim inside of his brain and the image of burying himself as deeply as you could take is all he needs. Just as your moans rise in crescendo he feels the first twitch and relief of his orgasm overtake him. He’s never felt it hit him this hard it knocks the wind out of him, each rope shooting out onto his hand and floor. In his minds eye though, it’s your suffocating heat taking it, milking him until he’s a shivering mess. It plays perfectly like a movie, he swears he can even feel your lips at his neck and arms holding him tight.

Your sounds are enough to keep him stroking, the way your voice pitched up with the sound of his name entwined, forever recorded in his brain. Your entire body tensed to the point of uncomfortable but it was impossible to stop abruptly when he sounded so lost in you. Your leg shakes and stiffens and it takes every inch of control to not become liquid and slip away into comforting bliss.

Eventually the sounds of heavy breathing slowly but surely settling are the only things the two of you can hear in your ears. There’s a mess, for you and for him. The understanding of things transpired crossing each of you two’s brains. Should you speak first? Should he?

“Um, you with me?” You settle, skin sweaty and mouth dry. There’s movement on the other line, a quiet cuss here and there and you smile. “Yeah, sorry just... made a mess” His voice has that sheepish tone and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Great thing about being a girl, we can conceal the evidence better” You stretch your aching legs enjoying each joint pop. “The female anatomy never seizes to amaze me, trust me” Donnie leans back in his chair, napkin cleaning any other soiled spot.

The silence was somewhat comfortable, the buzzing of good chemicals slowly settling.

“Was this okay?” He asked, hesitant tone in your ears.

“More than okay if you ask me” You kept it light not wanting him to feel odd or even ashamed.

You ventured on slowly, forming the question in your brain and bouncing it back and forward with a swallow. “If, and I mean if you want to, we can maybe do this from time to time” You worried a thumbnail between your teeth. Donnie’s gaze watching the idle screen of the abandoned game, he thought hard but briefly.

“I... yeah I would” He smiles to himself, even if the nagging thought that this might not last clutches the back of his mind. Why ruin a good thing? This was good more than good and you suggested to continue.

He doesn’t want to preoccupy his brain with scenarios, or if that dreaded ‘let’s meet’ sentence decides to cross your lips. If this is the inch of intimacy he gets to have and it’s with you, who he has grown so fond of, then he’s selfishly taking that inch and guarding it with his life.

Mutely you both remain on the line, no words spoken from the agreement, just simply enjoying that the two of you were present.

Even if not physically.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello x female reader #donnie tmnt #donatello tmnt #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #Donatello #Donnie #ns*w #oneshot

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8

WC: 1533

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: domestic fluff, anxiety, alcohol consumption

🧠

Tuesday afternoon had you and Laszlo working in his office. He sat behind his desk grading quizzes while you worked to transcribe one of his notebooks. Tchaikovsky played quietly over the bluetooth speaker he had on the bookshelf. You had once mentioned that he was your favorite composer, so Laszlo had taken to playing his work frequently during office hours.

Pausing to take a sip of the now-room temperature tea he had brought you, you notice a low humming noise. Turning in the chair you watch your doctor. His eyebrows are scrunched in concentration. He wears the little round reading glasses that make him look old-fashioned and sophisticated. He shakes his head lightly before marking an answer wrong on the paper he holds. But what strikes you most of all, is that he is softly humming along to the music in his deep baritone. He’s actually quite good with his pitch.

“I’ve never heard you sing.”

He looks up at you from over the spectacles. “Pardon?”

“You should sing more often, you have a lovely voice.”

A deep crimson blush spreads on the apples of his cheeks. Laszlo was not one to be embarrassed easily, but sometimes the most inconsequential or mundane things like this would do the trick. He opens his mouth to no doubt give a witty and defensive response when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he states. He isn’t expecting anyone, but there is an essay coming soon so it wouldn’t surprise him if a student wants to get ahead on their planning. The heavy mahogany door clicks and swings open.

“Hello Laszlo. I thought it was about time that I made my way to visit you,” says a familiar feminine voice. Standing in the doorway is none other than Dr. Stratton.

Laszlo sat up and removed his glasses as she entered the office. In the busyness of the last few weeks he hadn’t made it a point to seek her out yet. “Dr. Stratton, hello. I must say it has been quite a long time.” He smiles at seeing her, eyes lighting up.

“Oh, Laszlo, there's no need for such formalities. I’m no stranger that you can’t call me by my name.” Karen waves her hand in a dismissive manner. She then turns in your direction with a smile. “And you my dear, I didn’t expect to see you here?”

“Ah, sorry Dr. Stratton, it must have slipped my mind last time - I’m a TA for uh- Dr. Kreizler.” You almost slip up and call him Laszlo, but catch your tongue at the last possible second. It doesn’t shock you that the two doctors know each other. They both worked in the same field and had lived in central Europe in overlapping times. You’re happy to see two people you think highly of reacquainted.

You miss the confused glance that Laszlo sports between yourself and Dr. Stratton. The two of you obviously knew each other, but how? Karen had been in Vienna for years. Why would she know who you were? How small a world was it that his previous romantic partner and current one knew each other? His curiosity gets the better of him. “Forgive me, but are you two acquainted?” he asks.

“Yeah, I had Dr. Stratton my freshman year for intro psych. I told you about it on my first day, don’t you remember?”

“She was a fantastic student, Laszlo. You would have loved having her in one of your classes. She always had such well thought out ideas to contribute.”

He at least has the decency to look sheepish when he admits that it must have slipped his mind. In truth he hadn’t paid you much attention the first day. He made the effort to learn your name and that was the extent to which he cared at the time.

Dr. Stratton pipes up again. “I only have a moment but I wanted to invite you for drinks later this week so we can catch up. I have some new ideas I’d love to share with you.”

“That sounds wonderful. Please let me know when you would like to and I would be delighted.” The prospect excites Laszlo. It really had been so long since he last spoke to Karen.

“Of course, I’ll see you then.” She nods to Laszlo and gives you a grin and a wave as she leaves. The door clicks behind her.

“Oh-hoo you’ve got a date Laz, should I be worried?” you tease.

He gives you a deadpan look before realizing you are joking. He gives a slight frown. “Karen and I are old friends and colleagues, nothing more.” And previous lovers, which he omits.

“Alright, loverboy,” you quip, turning back to the notebook and laptop.

He finds himself discomforted by your joke. Perhaps he should tell you about Karen… Nevertheless, he tramps down the feeling and gets back to work.

“So why was it that Laszlo couldn’t join us tonight? He was not very forthcoming in his message.” John asks as he sets down your drinks. The three of you were sat at a small corner booth at the tavern you frequented on Friday nights. The evening was young; only a few patrons were there playing pool and having a round.

“He’s out with another professor catching up. They haven’t seen each other in years.” You take a large swig of your lager, the hoppy flavor of the brew coating your tongue. “He almost didn’t go but I insisted that I would survive alone with you two,” you chuckle.

John looks at you over his own glass. “And did he say who he’s with?”

“Dr. Stratton from the psych department.”

“Oh. I see.” John shifts his gaze around, his features going awkward at the information. He makes brief eye contact with Sara before darting them away again. Sara purses her lips, her doe eyes giving nothing away. The tense pause stirs something within you.

“What?” John needles at your question, a slight downturn of his lips as if to say he wasn’t sure what you meant. Sara sips her drink and watches the encounter. “What are you not telling me?”

John scratches at his chin. Sara steps in this time. “It’s nothing, John is just up to usual worrisome self,” she tries to dismiss.

Her answer doesn’t satisfy you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly inclined to believe you.” Facing John, you continue. “You look like you’ve eaten something that tastes horrible, you’re hesitant to look me in the eye, and you rubbed your jaw when I asked. You’re a terrible liar, John,” you accuse. You aren’t upset, but his sudden inability to speak causes anxiety to bubble in your gut.

He huffs. “You’re beginning to sound just like him, you know.” He quirks a brow at you, annoyed. “Laszlo and Karen have a… long history. As friends and colleagues, of course. They were very close for a while,” he tacks on. He wants to be forthcoming with you, but knows it isn’t his place to actually disclose Laszlo’s relationship with her.

“Oh.” you nod. Your anxiety begins to dissipate at the explanation. “I mean I’m not surprised by it, they both lived near each other for a while in Europe. I’m sure they ran in the same academic circles. Frankly, I’m glad he’s getting to catch up with her, he needs more friends than just us,” you laugh at Sara’s ‘cheers to that’ comment. “Anyways, how’s your week been?” you ask to change the subject.

The night comes to an end soon after; the tone shifted after you retired from the conversation about Laszlo’s absence. You caught a cab back to his home. He had given you a spare key in case you wanted to come over at any time, whether to study in peace or to just be there. He wasn't sure when he would get back, but he did ask for you to wait for him.

Getting ready for bed you chance a look at the clock. It was nearing midnight. Laszlo was still out, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of him, but you figure that he’s just got a lot to talk about with Dr. Stratton. You send a text to check in, but get no response.

As you lay in bed you find your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with John and Sara. “A long history; very close for a while…” plays on repeat in your head. You hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now it nags at you like a gnat swirling your head in the summertime. Surely nothing happened between the two? Laszlo would have told you. There’s no doubt he knew she was back, given that she’s in his department at the university. And you trust Dr. Stratton, she’s been a great support system and even a friend to you. If the two had been involved he would have let you know, you conclude. Besides, you and the doctor were happy, so even if they had been a thing at one point it surely wouldn’t matter now.

Right?

By the time you finally fall asleep Laszlo still hasn’t come home.

Tag list

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#psychopathia sexualis #the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #scuttle-buttle #daniel bruhl fanfiction

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fallenrepublick · 2 years

Note

ok i love that we're talking about the beginning!!

so imagine thrawn in this time, who either doesn't know about his brothers affections or isn't too sure

his collegues see thrass is spending a lot of time with you and obviously they're like "SCANDALOUS"

so one brave soul approaches the man and goes "hey are you not concerned your (handsome) brother could be trying to win over your wife?" while thrawn says that's impossible and how he's happy you get along with his family. but a minute later he's like "but what if-"

Ahh, well of course he would react that way initially.

Thrawn had always made it a rule to trust you beyond compare. In his eyes, that was the whole point. As his closest confidante as well as the one he loves, he expected a certain degree of trust to exist between the two of you despite any obstacles that might try and shake it as time passed. And you had never given him any reason to doubt you, not at all. You were the best anyone could hope for, and it gave him a sense of security when he left on his frequent extended trips.

You had told him of the time you had begun spending in Thrass's presence, admitting that his brother was far more intriguing than you had believed before, and possibly had more to him than even Thrawn was aware of. Thrawn thought little of it, if anything, he was glad to see you filling your time with conversations that seemed to brighten your mood at the mere mention of them.

Thrass, in turn, was noticeably different as well, yet in a way that Thrawn found difficulty in pinpointing. He was... bittersweet. There was a liveliness in his presence, as if he had very recently found something that gave him newfound energy, a reason to go about his life and look forward to moments ahead. At the same time, he seemed so absent. Always far off, always thinking of something that Thrawn couldn't identify before... yet might have gleaned now, with this new, seemingly ridiculous concept planted into his mind.

Thrawn found himself studying your interactions more, quite subconsciously, as if attempting to convince himself that what he had been led to believe was untrue. Yet it only grew worse. He watched Thrass's smiles, his hands that moved too close for Thrawn's comfort, the way you unknowingly made Thrass's eyes dart down to your lips when you played with his hair in an attempt to suggest that you braid it for him one of these days.

And Thrawn is not one to dance around an issue. He very soon decided that it had come to a point where he must ask his brother of his actions, even order him to back down if the need arose.

Yet Thrass denied it every time. What was he to say?

"Yes, my brother, I am hopelessly in love with your spouse, isn't it obvious?" No, of course not.

Instead, he always responded with a convincingly innocent, "What? What makes you think something like that? What do you take me for?"

And Thrawn would be forced to back away with little more than a glare of warning. Not that such a thing phased Thrass in the slightest. Not yet, anyways.

But as days went on, and the occurrences became worse, Thrawn grew agitated, watching Thrass continue to be your best friend, slip in compliments and small comments that you took one way, yet carried a weight you never quite identified. It was fine by Thrass, fine that you never saw him such a way, fine that you never felt what he did. You would never see the way he looked at you. That was fine.

But Thrawn couldn't risk the attempt, couldn't stand and watch as his brother's feelings for you grew. If you were to discover this, it would ruin your relationship with Thrawn, with Thrass, with the entire family.

"Many often claim that I have no emotional awareness," Thrawn said once, glad to have finally caught Thrass alone, "Yet I know desire when I see it."

Thrass simply looked at Thrawn in response, saying nothing, expecting much more. His stare said more than any words could.

"They are not yours to take."

"Do I look to be taking anything?" Thrass snapped back, eyes still daring to challenge Thrawn's. It's a curious thing to look back on, a time when his confidence had not yet been beaten down, when he did not still avoid his younger brother's gaze. It seems so long ago, now.

"You seem to think that I have not noticed what you feel, that I am oblivious to the emotions that you try so desperately to hide from even yourself. Consider this your one and only warning. They are not yours to pursue."

"I fail to see how this will do anything to-"

"Surely, you know already that they could never possibly love you."

A silence fell between the brothers. While Thrawn waited, daring his brother to respond, Thrass's mind was blank, nothing but the last words spoken sticking in his mind. It was true. That, he knew well. Why... why did it still ache so much to hear? Why did his heart feel torn apart at the mere verbalization of a truth he thought he had already accepted?

No matter. Thrawn turned from his brother, glad that Thrass was now aware of the truth that lay in the situation, hoping that it at least would discourage him from making any more shifts toward your favour. It's better this way. Thrass is no good for you, anyhow.

#chiss triangle #thrawn #thrass

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