#i should probably spend more time rendering clothes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 6 months

Text

How You Play the Game Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You find more comfort in Bradley's home and in his arms than anywhere else. But time is ticking down, and only a win by the Angels on Saturday evening will give you more of both. Bradley tries to make a compelling argument, because he knows it's finally time to start speaking his mind.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, oral and smut (18+)

Length: 7600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You woke with a small jump as soft lips and a bristly mustache met your cheek. "Bradley?" you mumbled as his deep chuckle next to your ear made you shiver. When you started to push the covers off and open your eyes, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm leaving for work, but you should stay in bed. You deserve a day off."

Now you were looking up at him standing next to his bed in his khaki uniform with all of his pins and his name tag. And he looked so good, you knew you were staring. It was almost startling seeing him like this when you were so used to all the Padres shirts and snug fitting jeans. Most of the people in his life were probably more used to this look. The Lieutenant Bradshaw look. But it was rendering you speechless.

"Can I come to work with you today?" you asked him, earning another chuckle. Spending the day at his house doing your laundry, relaxing and eating everything in his refrigerator sounded actually pretty perfect, but you'd just rather be doing all of that with him here, too.

"It's not Take the sports writer you're completely infatuated with to work day."

Now you were the one laughing as you set up in bed and reached for him. "When's that day? I'll make sure I'm off."

He kissed you sweetly as his hand found your hip. "I think it's in April."

You were giggling against his smiling lips when he suddenly groaned. "I need to go. Text me if you need anything? Or if you just want to distract me?"

"I will."

"See ya, Ace."

When you heard the front door open and then close, you rolled over in his bed and buried your face in his pillow. Then you squeezed it to your body. Bradley smelled incredible, especially since you were so used to the sterile bleach scent of hotel bedding and the stale air of ballpark press boxes. You wished you could bottle this up and take it on the road with you. Take a little bit of Bradley wherever you went.

Before that thought could take further shape, you climbed out of his bed and shivered in just his TOP GUN tee shirt. Since he told you to make yourself comfortable, you allowed yourself to root around in his dresser drawers in search of a pair of socks. Your eyes caught on the frame of his mirror hanging over the dresser, and you smiled at your reflection as you reached up and touched the ticket from game one. It was the media pass he won from the radio program, and you traced the corners of it before you sat on his bed and put on a pair of his comically large socks.

It was early, but you were hungry, and you found a fully stocked refrigerator when you went to the kitchen. Bradley's home was a treasure trove of things that were normal for other people but not for you: bedding that smelled like heaven and a delicious assortment of fresh food. You pulled out a container of berries and then found oatmeal in his cabinets. Your stomach was growling loudly as you poured yourself some coffee from the pot he left out for you.

You sat on his living room couch with your breakfast and looked out the window. It was probably always this sunny here, always this inviting. Bradley's cottage was easily five times the size of your apartment, which you rarely thought about beyond it being a place to hold all of your things that didn't really matter. You didn't have time for stuff; just the clothes on your back and your computer.

When you finished the last bite of oatmeal, you felt tears in your eyes. You were so lonely. You were so tired of forcing yourself to work harder and harder to make up the deficit between yourself and your colleagues. You just wanted to hide here, in San Diego, with Bradley. You felt safe and desirable, and he wasn't yelling at you or telling you that you needed to go to Boston.

You took a deep breath as you went to the kitchen sink with your bowl and mug. There were a few other dishes there, so you washed everything for him and set them out to dry. It had been years since you hadn't done at least a little bit of work on a day off, so you went to get your computer out of his bedroom. But it smelled too good, so you carried your computer back to his bed and snuggled in where you could work on the beginning of your next article before the game tomorrow afternoon.

Your inbox was completely filled with offers from recruiters with other newspapers and online outlets. You knew some of them would send you a job offer in an instant without even asking you to interview with them. Some of them had even managed to corner you when you were on the job; they knew your schedule as well as you did. You were always sent to the most high profile matches and events. And while some aspects of what they were offering you sounded very enticing, you were already at The New York Times.

After you took some deep breaths, you deleted all of them and opened up a blank document and got to work. But you didn't get far before you closed your laptop, because writing baseball stats was a lot more fun when you were sitting on Bradley's lap. You decided to text him.

How's work?

Then you remembered he told you that you could check out his collection of baseball cards in the garage. You jumped out of bed and walked down the short hallway, peeking in the extra bedroom on the way. You opened one door, but it was just a linen closet which he actually had organized by color, which you found charming. The next door led you out to the small, attached garage which was also very tidy. You looked at everything on his shelves before you found some boxes that said Nick Bradshaw- Baseball Cards. The marker was very faded on the cardboard, so you slid the first one down very carefully.

When you carried it back inside to the living room, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Once you set the box down, you saw that you had a new message from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Work is not as fun as playing hooky with you. What are you up to, Baby?

You took a selfie with the box of baseball cards which you assumed had belonged to his father. You added the caption 'About to dig through these and swoon all over your living room.'

The collection was impressive to say the least. You didn't collect cards, because you didn't have the time or space for them, but you knew which of his were valuable when you looked through them. You thought about how much fun it would be to organize these a little better with him. Your phone was vibrating again.

Bradley Bradshaw: You look gorgeous. Send me another picture?

You sent him another selfie, and then he asked for another one. This game went on and on until lunchtime when you decided to mess with him a little bit.

Now send me one, and you'll get something sexy in return.

He didn't respond immediately, and you figured he must be busy. You made a sandwich for lunch and ate it with some potato chips. Then you found his washer and dryer in a little closet across from the bathroom door and started a load of your dirty clothes. And then you got ready to get in the shower.

Your phone vibrated on the sink vanity, so you grabbed it before you stepped under the spray of hot water. And you almost dropped it when you saw a set of two photos of Bradley out in the bright sunlight in his uniform. In the first one, he was wearing some aviator sunglasses and smirking. In the second one, the sunglasses were gone, and he was smiling.

"Fuck," you moaned as you looked at the photos, making sure you didn't get your phone wet.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now where's my sexy Ace?

Before you could tell yourself what a big mistake you were making, you snapped a photo of yourself, water cascading down your breasts and a grin on your face. You sent it with the caption 'You look so good in those aviators, I'm about to start touching myself.'

You were standing there thinking about it. Your nipples were hard, and you were thinking about the scratch of Bradley's mustache on your skin. But his next message had your hand pausing before you could touch your clit.

Bradley Bradshaw: Jesus Christ, Baby. How am I supposed to focus when you send me something that good? Don't you dare touch yourself. I want you dialed up to eleven for me when I get home.

And now you were a whimpering mess as you tried to shower without letting yourself get off, wishing you had brought some sexy underwear on this trip with you.

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

Well now Bradley was a mess, thinking about your body while he was supposed to be listening to a safety demonstration out on the tarmac. Why had he bothered to come to work today? He should have taken a second day off and spent it with you.

But you were leaving soon, and that was why he decided to try to keep to his normal routine. And you were exhausted whether you thought so or not, so he wanted you to have time to relax and unwind.

"Hey," Nat whispered, nudging his arm. "You okay?"

Bradley sighed and nodded, and then he held up his phone with a photo of you with the baseball cards for her to see. Nat pushed him a little further away from the group and hissed, "She's at your house? Are you insane?"

"Nat," he started, running his hand through his hair. "I know-"

"No, I don't think you do, Rooster. You're going to get your heart broken."

He nodded and looked down at their feet. "It's already unavoidable at this point. And she makes me feel so good."

His best friend sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know you're supposed to come to the Hard Deck for Mickey's birthday tonight, right?"

His plan was to bring you along, buy you a few drinks, maybe dance to the horrible collection of songs in the jukebox with you. "Yeah," he replied. "I'll come if she wants to join me, but I don't want you giving her the stink eye all night."

She scoffed. "I'll be perfectly nice to her."

Bradley shook his head, starting to get pissed off. "Will you though? See, the thing is, I'd like to think that I'm not the only one headed for some heartbreak here, Nat. I'd like to think she feels the same way I do. Like maybe I'm too good to be true, too. And maybe spending time with me now is worth the pain later."

Her face softened immediately. "You are, Rooster. You're too good to be fucking true. I promise I'll be nice. At the Hard Deck and next week if you want to talk about it then."

After that, Bradley just left early instead of hanging out on the tarmac with the others. He skipped the showers since he'd barely even done anything today. Then he could get home sooner and see you and just shower there. When he climbed in the Bronco, he texted to let you know he was on his way. And then he sat there with his key hovering next to the ignition.

You'd be gone by Monday morning. This was the only time he'd ever get to tell you he was on his way home to you. More than anything, he wanted to know if you were falling in love like he was. He wanted to know if there was even a tiny part of you that wanted to stay.

Ace: Hurry! I'm making dinner. And you should keep those aviators on when you get here... I'm dialed up to eleven.

He shoved the key into the ignition. He was pretty dialed up as well, but he knew it was at least in part because his heart was invested. He lived so close to base, it only took him a few minutes to get home. When he reached to remove his sunglasses and leave them in the cup holder, he smiled. Then he dashed up the walkway to his front door with his keys in hand and his aviators perched on his nose.

You were right there when he walked inside, wearing one of his favorite tropical print shirts and a pair of his socks and a bright smile. His house seemed more inviting than it ever had before. It even smelled like you were making something delicious. And then you were in his arms, and his hands were inside the unbuttoned shirt all over your soft skin.

"I missed you. Been thinking about how good you look in this thing all day long," you moaned, running your hands up and down the front of his uniform shirt. "But the sunglasses make it magical."

"I missed you, too." Bradley kissed you as your hands made their way slowly down to his pants. "You had me dialed up all day and I wasn't even with you." He wanted to ask you so many questions right now, but you were kissing his mustache and bumping his sunglasses with your nose while you wrapped your hand around his cock and started jerking. And then he couldn't remember anything except how happy you made him.

When you sank to your knees in front of him, Bradley yanked his aviators lower on his nose. You were smiling up at him as you yanked his pants down a little lower and licked away the bead of his precum before you kissed his tip. "Why is this so hot with you in your uniform, Lieutenant?"

Bradley groaned loudly as you took a few inches of him with a smirk. "Why is this so hot with you in my shirt and socks?"

You popped him free and giggled. "All my clothes are in your washing machine. Even my underwear."

"I love that for myself," he grunted as you took him deep. With gentle fingers, he stroked your face as you gave him head in his living room. It was like some depraved housewife fantasy, the way you felt so familiar to him. The way he could smell dinner cooking. The way you bobbed your head and moaned for him.

You sucked on his balls and ran your tongue slowly back and forth as you looked up at him. You had one hand wrapped around his length, and you were touching your tits with the other. Your gaze was the neediest thing he had ever seen as he stroked your cheek. Every time you released him, he groaned for you, and then you just started sucking on him again. He could feel himself tightening up as you kissed his balls and whimpered.

"Fuck," he growled, hauling you to your feet and getting his lips back on yours as you gasped in surprise. "I wanna fuck you."

"Please," you gasped, nodding and looking toward the couch.

He shook his head and lifted you up with both hands on your bare ass. "In my bed, Ace."

"That's even better," you whispered, sucking on his neck and raking your fingers through his hair. "Your bedroom smells like you. I love it in there."

"Fuck," he grunted again, his cock slapping against your ass as he carried you to his bed. And then you were on your back with your head on his pillow as he took off his aviators and tossed them down next to you. His shirt was hanging open on you, and his socks looked ridiculously adorable on your feet, and your legs were spread wide, your pussy already so wet for him. "You are the hottest thing I have ever seen," he announced before burying his face in your pussy and making you scream his name.

"Bradley!" you screeched and gasped over and over again as he got his face all wet from you before bringing his lips up to yours for a kiss. His uniform pins were brushing against your breasts and you were grinding your pussy against his cock.

"Shit," he gasped, pulling your lip between his teeth and releasing it. "Where are the condoms?"

"In my suitcase in the hallway," you whimpered. "Skip it if you want. I have an IUD."

And if Bradley thought he was losing his mind ten seconds ago, it was nothing compared to letting himself slip inside your warm, wet pussy with no protection at all. "Ace," he rasped, watching your face as he pushed himself deeper until your back arched off the bed. He fucked you with his hands on your hips until your legs were shaking. You had your hands all over his face, continuously pulling him in for kisses.

"You feel so good," you gasped, running your feet along his thighs.

He pressed his lips to your ear and asked, "Are you getting close for me?"

"Yes," you moaned, reaching for his hand and drawing it up to your lips. You sucked on his fingers for a few seconds, taking him painfully close to the edge, and then you pressed his fingers to your clit.

He worked in quick strokes, listening to the sounds you made as you got louder. When you pulled him closer for more kisses, he indulged you before he said, "I wanna watch you come for me, Baby."

And then you did. You came apart with his fingers on your body and his name on your lips. Your face was beautiful as you gasped and babbled nonsense as your pussy drained every drop of cum from him. You were perfect as you reached for him and said, "Now you better kiss me."

You and he had your lips all over each other for so long after you both caught your breath that he was surprised and delighted all over again when he started to pull out of you and remembered he came inside you.

"You're blushing," you whispered as you looked up at him on his knees between your legs.

His cum was slowly oozing out of your opening and dripping down to your ass. "Baby, if you could see what I see, you'd understand." He was transfixed. Obsessed. He leaned down to kiss your pussy and taste himself there, licking along your skin with a soft grunt.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and tugged him by his hair, and he just knew you wanted to taste it, too. So he kissed you, letting you suck on his tongue. Then he jerked away from you and turned toward the door.

"Is something burning?"

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

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Bradley said for the hundredth time as you sat on his couch with him eating pizza. "This isn't as good as yours would have been."

You just laughed. "Seriously, this is probably better. I'm not great at cooking. I was just trying to impress you."

Why exactly, you weren't sure. What difference did it make to Bradley if you could cook a chicken casserole that was good or not? He wasn't yours to impress. You weren't going to be here past Sunday night at the very latest, and that was only if the Angels won game six tomorrow.

"I'm impressed," he replied, his cheeks a little pink again.

"Yeah," you said, trying to push your feelings to the back burner. "I could tell how impressed you were with me in your bedroom."

"That's not what I meant," he said, looking down at his lap with a frown that made your heart ache. You tossed your pizza crust into the box and climbed on his lap. You and he had taken a quick shower together after he called in a pizza order, and now you were both in your own clothing.

You kissed him and tried to change the subject. "What time are we leaving for the bar?" you asked.

When he met your eyes again, he said, "We can go whenever. And we don't have to stay long. Just long enough to say happy birthday to my friend and have a drink?"

You could hardly believe he wanted to take you with him. His friends would want details about who you were and why you were together, so you would just follow his lead.

It was a short drive in his cool Bronco to the bar, and he sang along to the radio and held your fingers laced with his the whole way. And then he paraded you inside with him like it was the most natural thing the two of you could be doing. "That's Mickey, the birthday boy wearing the blue Captain America shirt. And that's my best friend Natasha wearing the annoyed expression because someone is talking to her."

You laughed, and he leaned down to kiss you as you walked toward the pool table. As you walked past the bar to meet everyone, you noticed the bartender's gaze following you and Bradley as you went. Her expression was one of curiosity as she mixed a drink.

"Ace, this is Nat," Bradley was saying, and you turned in time to grasp hands with the woman that he referred to as a 'mean little spitfire'.

"It's nice to meet you," Natasha replied. She didn't look happy exactly, but she didn't look like she was upset that you were here. "I've heard a lot about you."

You looked up at Bradley, a little surprised. "Oh. I've heard a lot about you, too. Bradley said you're smarter than all the guys."

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thanks for acknowledging it, Rooster. You two want drinks?" she asked.

"Go ahead," Bradley replied. "We'll get some in a minute."

"Hey, Rooster!" Mickey shouted as he waved in between taking shots.

You laughed. "I don't know if I'd ever get used to everyone using your call sign," you told him. "It's so amusing to me."

Then Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in closer. He kissed your forehead softly, but he looked serious. "If you stick around in San Diego, I bet you'd get used to it, Ace."

You swallowed hard as you looked up into his brown eyes. You could tell he was being sincere, which made everything hurt a little more. But you were saved by the group of guys all calling for him. Bradley sighed and kissed your forehead one more time before you and he were absorbed by the group.

A few minutes later, your head was swirling with names and faces when Bradley asked, "Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"I'll come with you," you told him, and he nodded before taking your hand a little hesitantly. You were confused, because then he wrapped his arm around you just like he always did, and his fingers were softly stroking your side through your shirt. But then when the bartender turned your way, it clicked. She and Bradley had slept together before. You could just tell.

"Hey, Bradley," she said, already reaching for a pint glass and pouring what must have been his usual beer. The way she looked at him and talked to him was just a tiny bit too familiar.

"Hey," he grunted before turning your way. "What do you want to drink, Baby?"

You met the bartender's eyes and couldn't help but smile as Bradley brushed his lips along your temple. You weren't his, but he was choosing you right now. And it felt incredible. "I'll have the same thing," you told her before turning your face so he could kiss your lips.

Bradley dug out his wallet without really looking at her, and she ran his credit card as you sipped your beer. He wasn't being a jerk, and she didn't seem overly jealous, but you just knew they had a past.

Then the two of you threw some darts and played some pool, and Bradley was more than happy to point out that mini golf was probably your worst game. "Happy to see you can handle a pool cue better than a putter," he whispered with a grin.

"Be nice, or I'll leave my golf ball behind at your place," you replied.

He looked a little sad as he shook his head. "I want you to keep that." You knew you would, and he knew you would. You could picture the perfect spot for it in your apartment, but you already knew it would never make it there. You'd keep packing that stupid blue golf ball from your date with him in your luggage and take it everywhere with you.

"Can we go now?" he asked suddenly, his face a little sad. "Back to my place?"

"Yeah," you agreed, and after a round of goodbyes, he led you back past the bar with his arm around you. The bartender tracked your movements, but you didn't care. He was yours right now, the way he was touching you.

And he was yours when you got back to his house, the way you were touching him. "Ace," he sighed as you rode him in his bed. His body was delicious, but his voice was what had you a mess. "Baby, you're so good. Can't get enough of those little noises. Keep going." The feel of him once again inside you without a condom as he verbally coaxed you to orgasm was only part of what you knew you were going to miss.

Because the rest of it came next, when he was curled up with you in the dark, quiet room, his arm draped around you, pulling you close. The only sounds were his breath next to your ear and his deep whisper. "Night, Baby."

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

"Stay in bed," Bradley whispered again. It was Saturday. Game six was this evening, and he was trying his hardest to draw you back to him again. He had successfully made you snuggle in and fall asleep with him again after the first time you woke up.

"You'll mess up my sleep cycle for when I'm in Boston," you murmured before you snuggled against him with the covers pulled up to your chin. "But you're so warm."

Bradley indulged in a brief fantasy where you would fly out to Boston, complete your assignment, and then fly back to San Diego to be with him until you had to go somewhere else. And you'd be here when he got home from a long deployment. Ready to take him to bed and hold him just like this.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked as you ran your nails along his cheek and kissed his nose.

He couldn't tell you, no matter how much he wanted to. "Thinking about how I'm still the worst Padres fan ever. The Angels better win today. We deserve seven games, Ace."

"We do," you agreed, and Bradley was delighted that you fell asleep in his arms again.

When you and he finally got out of bed, you went to his dresser and pulled on one of his tee shirts like this was a normal occurrence. "Will you let me make you breakfast?" you asked with a smile.

"I was going to make breakfast for you," he replied, patting your ass on his way to the bathroom. "But we could make something together."

You were already in the kitchen, kneeling on the countertop and looking in his cabinets when he came out of the bathroom. "Do you have chocolate chips?" you asked. "We can make chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, maybe some oatmeal. Sorry, I'm just so excited for something other than a free continental breakfast."

He wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you down as you squeaked. "Not up there," he whispered, kissing your neck as he set you on the floor. "In the pantry."

You turned and scampered across the kitchen, and now Bradley was sincerely hoping he had all the ingredients you'd need for pancakes just so he could make you happy right now. "Found them!" you announced, holding up a bag with a smile that made him weak.

"Let's get started."

It was too much fun being with you. The pancakes you made turned out beautifully, and you and he ate on his couch again. This time he accidentally dripped maple syrup on his bare abs since he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I feel like you did that on purpose so I'd either buy you another shirt or lick it off of you."

He smirked. "I mean, I wouldn't be mad if you did."

You sighed dramatically as you set your plate on the coffee table next to the box of baseball cards. "Fine. Extra large shirt? You want the Padres this time?" Bradley laughed at your words, and then you leaned down and licked him clean as you looked up at him. Then you climbed into his lap and kissed him.

"The Angels better win tonight," he murmured against your lips. "I need them to."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" you asked, and he carried you there, expecting maybe some more tongue exploration. But what he got was you curling up in his arms again, your lips pressed to his chest. You were quiet for a bit before you asked him softly, "What would it be like being in a relationship with you?"

This was an echo of his question from Thursday night, and now he could appreciate that he had really put you on the spot then. How could he describe something spectacular that he wasn't going to get to experience with you, in a way that would make you remember him fondly. Bradley made sure his breathing was calm and even as he said, "Probably just like this, Ace. A whole lot of this right here."

You didn't say anything for a long time, and you kept your face buried against him. But eventually you nodded and said, "I would like that."

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

When Bradley held your hand during the game at Petco Park, everything seemed a bit more somber today. The press box was quieter than usual even though the crowd was going crazy. During the seventh inning stretch, when you leaned in close and kissed his cheek, Quincy turned around and asked, "You bring him to every game now?" as he nodded at Bradley.

"He's my intern and my sex slave, Quince. And that's strictly on the record."

But Quincy was undeterred today even as you and Bradley laughed quietly together. "Heard Greg was thinking about pulling you out of here early to send you to the Bruins? He only pays you so much because you're useful to him. Being a woman and all."

Bradley watched your head snap to face Quincy with a look of barely concealed rage. "Try not to cry too hard over the fact that I make more money than you even though you're twice my age."

Quincy grunted and muttered, "Same old, same old with you. Always gotta be on top. Always gotta get the last word in."

Bradley watched you press your lips together like you were trying your hardest to not have the last word right now. It was obvious that wasn't why you made it as far as you had. It was also obvious Quincy was trying to bait you. Bradley just felt a little bit bad that he could be used as ammunition against you. "You want something to drink, Ace?"

When you nodded, Bradley stood and went to get you a water bottle. "Thanks," you muttered, looking down at your keyboard as he handed it to you.

"Hey, don't let these assholes get to you," he whispered as he slipped back down into his seat.

He was drawing little shapes along your back with his fingers as you looked up at him in surprise. "I don't fucking care about Quincy.... the Padres are up three to zip." You laughed sardonically. "You know I'll have to leave in the morning if they win, right?" you asked him.

Bradley nodded. He couldn't even say the words out loud. So he focused on the game and held your hand tight. The Padres were using their relief pitcher a little early, and he looked fatigued. His pitches were wild, and he was walking batter after batter. Then right at the top of the eight inning, Bradley heard the crack of a perfectly hit ball.

"That's a grand slam," you whispered before the ball was even beyond the fence. Instead of marking it down on your stat sheet, you tossed your pencil aside and kissed him. "Angels up by one run," you said against his lips.

"They need to hold the lead," he replied, letting his forehead rest against yours. "They need to. I don't care who wins the World Series, but they need to do it in game seven, not game six."

His words made you smile so much, he wrapped his arm around you to keep you as close as he could. And when the final score was the Padres with three runs and the Angels with four, you were practically on his lap. You were even smiling when Greg called you a minute later to tell you to get to Boston first thing on Monday morning after game seven on Sunday night.

"I'll have to book my flight," you said to Bradley as everyone started to flood out of the press box ahead of the crowd. "But we have two more nights together instead of just one."

You and he were quiet after that, your fingers laced together as you walked out to the parking lot and rode back to his house. He didn't feel like he needed to rush right now as he unlocked his front door and followed you inside. You pulled him in for a kiss that was so sweet, he was surprised. Just your arms around his neck and your lips moving gently on his.

"We have some time before my midnight deadline. Can we get changed and snuggle in bed like earlier?" you asked him, your eyes closed as your lips hovered near his. "I want to change into your Padres jersey."

Bradley had goosebumps on his skin as he whispered, "It's your Padres jersey now."

You looked so damn pleased with yourself as you ran toward his bedroom, shedding your clothes on the way. Bradley undressed down to his underwear while you did the same and then slipped his jersey on before heading for his dresser. "Your floor's cold," you mumbled as you grabbed a pair of his socks and put them on before jumping into his bed. "And now I look ridiculous."

Bradley shook his head as he stared at you. He'd been holding back enough, and he just didn't want to do it anymore. "Nah, Ace, you look... like everything I want."

"Bradley," you whispered, pulling his blanket up over your face. "You can't."

He slipped in bed and burrowed under the blanket with you. Your eyes were bright as you looked at him in the dim bit of light. "I can't help it," he replied, and you eased yourself into his arms. "There's nobody like you. You're the Ace for a reason."

"God," you whimpered, kissing his lips and his cheeks, and teasing your fingers through his hair. Your palms were warm on his cheeks as you traced every single scar and the curve of his lips. You ran your nose along his mustache, and you just snuggled closer and closer to him. "I can't think straight when I'm with you. It's like, I feel like I could..."

"Like you could what, Baby?" he begged. He needed you to finish that sentence, but you didn't. You just kissed him until you were the one begging and pleading. It was so easy to give you what you wanted right now, because he wanted it, too. He yanked his underwear down and pulled yours to the side, and when he slipped inside you, he watched you pull the blankets down. And now he could see you a little better, and you really were exactly what he wanted.

It was slow and sweet, and he knew he'd never feel this good with anyone else. He didn't want to let you go. He held your thigh on his hip and rocked into you, thrusting as he thought 'stay, stay, stay'.

"Bradley," you moaned, pushing him onto his back and riding him until you came. He was afraid he was saying exactly what he was thinking now as words like need and permanent surfaced in his mind while he babbled. You told him to cum inside you again, so he did. And when you curled up on his chest, he kissed the top of your head.

Your lips were on his neck as you silently ran your fingers through his hair. "Ace," he whispered, but you just shook your head. So he pressed his lips together and rubbed his hands up underneath the jersey, and you shivered against him.

A few minutes later, when he was nearly soothed to sleep with his cock still nestled inside you, Bradley felt your body jerk. "Oh no. What time is it?" you gasped. You climbed off of him abruptly, a look of panic on your face as you searched for your phone. "Fuck!"

Bradley climbed out of bed as you fumbled your phone and ran for your computer which was charging on his chair. His cum was on his abs and your legs, but you didn't stop to get cleaned up before you ran for his kitchen table. "What can I do to help?" he asked as he followed you.

"Nothing," you snapped, booting up your computer. It was almost 11:30, and Bradley wasn't sure exactly how much you'd written before and during the game; he had been too concerned about the Angels winning tonight.

He got you some water and whispered, "I can help you proofread it," but you didn't respond. You just typed away frantically while he hovered around the living room, glancing in your direction constantly. Your brow was creased in frustrated determination, and Bradley felt like an asshole for not suggesting that you or he set an alarm before climbing in bed. Because he could absolutely lose all track of time when he was with you, whether you and he were fucking, talking or cuddling. And he knew it.

When he looked at the clock on the microwave, he winced. It was nearly midnight, and you were still typing and looking at your stat sheet. "Anything I can do?" he asked again, but you just shook your head, so he went to the bathroom. He got himself cleaned up and then just leaned on the sink vanity with his head cradled in his hands.

Fuck. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any stress when you were with him. He felt like an idiot. When he finally returned to the table, the clock said 12:01 and you were still typing. He was waiting for your phone to ring. Greg would be calling you to start screaming any second now. And he had to stand there and watch it all unfold. You submitted your article at 12:07, and you looked up at him with sad yet determined eyes before you answered your ringing phone.

"Greg," you said, your voice sounding strong and sure even though your face was defeated. And then Greg was hollering nonstop as you held the phone a few inches away from your ear. Bradley hated it so much. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek while Greg reminded you not too kindly that you missed your deadline by seven minutes. Then Bradley cupped your face in his hands and held eye contact with you while you told Greg it wouldn't happen again before you ended the call.

The silence was almost deafening as you held your phone and looked up at him. Bradley swallowed hard, but his voice was still a harsh whisper as he said, "I hate it when he yells at you."

You shook your head and grimaced as tears filled your eyes. "Well, I missed my deadline, so he had every right to-"

"No," Bradley said, dropping to his knees in front of you on his kitchen floor. "He doesn't, Ace. He shouldn't do that. It's just seven minutes."

"But it's a deadline for a reason," you supplied immediately, looking down into his face. "One minute is the same as seven is the same as sixty. It shouldn't happen at all."

Bradley scoffed. "So he sits up until three in the morning in New York just to call you and scream? That's fucked up."

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "I let myself get distracted by you. This is my fault. But when I'm with you, I can't think straight. Which is bad."

"Ace," he whispered helplessly as you cried. "But if we were together-"

"We can't be together," you told him. Your voice was soft and sorrowful, but it felt like a gunshot to Bradley. His ears were ringing from the sound of it. He could tell you were stubborn, but right now, he felt stubborn, too. It wasn't very often that he allowed himself to want something, and never on the scale of how badly he wanted you, but he thought right now it would be worth fighting for this.

"I've seen your email inbox," he whispered, and your eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't need Greg or the New York Times to be successful, Ace. You bring everything to the table, and clearly other people see that."

"Bradley," you said, shaking your head sadly. "It's the New York Times. The pinnacle. There's nowhere else for me to go that wouldn't be a step backwards in my career, and that's a fact. My job is important to me. Writing is important to me."

"But you're more than who you write for-"

You cut him off as you raised your voice. "You knew immediately who I was when you saw my name, because I work for The Times!"

Bradley buried his face against your thigh as he tried to will his heart to stop pounding so hard he could barely hear. He kissed you there before he looked up at you again in agony. "People would follow your writing anywhere, because you're that fucking good. Have you ever thought about writing for someone else?"

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "No." "Baby, you could make a big name for yourself on an independent platform. Your style is fun and it flows. You can find something better for yourself than the New York Times. This doesn't have to be that hard."

"It's not that easy either. I told you how it would be, Bradley," you said, your voice taking on a pleading tone. "You would hate it when I was away for long stretches. You would want someone else. Someone easy to be with. Someone who was always in San Diego."

"That's a fucking lie," he growled. "And you know it."

You were silent for a minute as your eyes settled on your lap. "New York is my home. I'm settled there. And you're settled here."

He felt sick. The words had too much finality. But you were waiting for him to confirm, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was let you down. "Yeah. I am." Then he realized he was crying as well when he reached up to cup your cheek again. You melted into his touch before you slid off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. "Ace. Look at you," he whispered, and you met his eyes as your lip quivered. "You're perfect. The perfect woman. I want to be with you. And I think you want to be with me, too."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held you while you cried. "I'm sorry, Bradley," you murmured against his shoulder.

He knew you were scared to even think that something might be a better fit for you, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe it would be career suicide if you left your job. He didn't know a damn thing about it really. All he knew was everyone wanted you with them. Including him. It was hard for him to breathe as he asked, "What do you have in New York that you couldn't have in San Diego? Here. With me."

But you didn't answer him. You just stayed curled up on his lap until after one in the morning with your arms wrapped around him and his securely at your back. He tried his best to memorize how good and yet terrible this felt, because in a few days, he knew he'd probably give anything to feel you in his arms.

When you finally eased away from him and kissed his lips, you tried to smile as you said, "Let's just enjoy our last day together."

Bradley closed his eyes against the pain. "Sure, Ace."

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

All I feel right now is pain. I miss feeling joy. The final game is next. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@backinwonderl4nd

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@pieceuvmind

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

449 notes · View notes

dduane · 7 months

Text

Meanwhile, at the digital art end of things...

Here's another shot of that Magic Room set that I'm about to kitbash/rebuild into a bedchamber.

I'll be stripping all the contents out before I get started. But let me add a couple of human figures first for scale...

...as they're going to be the ones using this bedroom most. —Yes, other members of their marriage will be there often enough. But this is a working family, and the other spouses frequently have other places they need to be.

The initial problem becomes immediately apparent: this space is way too big for a bedroom, even for a king. And with ceilings that high, it'd be hell to heat with just one fireplace. Sure, there'll routinely be at least one magic-worker in the bed at any given time, but why should they have to constantly be spending useful lifeforce on room heating? (Or wasting power on anything besides the things one goes to bed to do.*)

So: time to throw everything out and deal with the scale issues of the main structure.

From the outside, here's what the room structure looks like.

If there's a problem with this, it's that the maker has built it all in one piece. You can't pull annoying chunks off it and get rid of them, or substitute others in their place. But (the flip side of this coin) it is possible to rescale the structure as a whole.

So what I propose to do is squash the room flatter, thereby shifting the shape of those arches somewhat, but also lowering the ceiling. I can also decrease the length of the room somewhat. The combined reductions along the X and Y axes should render the room's proportions a bit more snug and liveable: roomy enough for a Middle Kingdoms family bedchamber, but not a great hollow echoing space that can't be comfortably filled except by sending out to USC or someplace similar for a marching band.

So let's throw all the extraneous furniture out. And (after this shot) the chandeliers. No need for them: this isn't a public space, and the intended resizing would screw up their proportions anyway.

Now we start squeezing the structure into better dimensions. Reducing the room on the X axis (to about 80% of its original length)...

... then on the Y axis, making the ceiling about 30% lower...

... and then widening the Z axis out to 20% or so wider than previously.

So that's a start.

Now about twenty different things have to happen to this space, including fixing the lighting (which got knocked out of kilter by the various resizings, as you can see), hiding unwanted objects like that staircase, changing various materials—such as the floor, which before has always been European-medieval style encaustic tile, so that's what it'll be again—reshaping the head of the bed into something more neo-Gothic (probably in Blender) to reflect the arches, installation of the necessary fireplace, and loading in much old furniture from other renders. (As it happens, this detail's canonical. The other main characters have started teasing Freelorn about Kynall castle's endlessly recycled furniture—especially those beds still equipped with mattresses so old that Héalhra Whitemane himself might have slept on them.)

Anyway, not going to bore anyone still reading this with any further process, except to say that the reworked room features the pale-colored marbles quarried all over that part of Arlen, as well as whitestave wood, used extensively in the Castle and nearby official buildings for its durability and its ancient associations with the Lion and Arlene royalty.

So this is what's in place at the moment, at least down at the bed end. Yet to come: more hangings, more furniture, better bed linens, clothes-presses and bookshelves, clothes thrown over chairs, etc etc...

And at the fireplace end:

More texture and detail work to do down at this end as well; as well as tuning the firelight (always a nuisance). ...A job for another day.

Meanwhile, turned around the bed-facing camera just in front of the fireplace, and found myself regarding a not-too-bad reverse angle.

(eyeroll) These two idiots. :)

*Like sleep. ...Or, yeah, okay, other things. (shrug/grin)

#digital art #Daz Studio #Middle Kingdoms meta #set building #kitbashing #Herewiss #Freelorn

160 notes · View notes

muichirosboba · 1 month

Text

Sparking Our Inferno | First Date with Kyojuro Rengoku (Rengoku x Y/n)

Warnings: none, just fluff, "friends to lovers" dynamic

Y/n's prounouns: (they/them) nonbinary!reader

AN: Hi, I would just like to say that this will be my first "Y/n x (character)" fic so please forgive me if it's not good. Happy reading!

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️-----------------------------------

You and Kyojuro had been best friends for quite some time, and at some point you began to like him just a little more.

However, he never said anything to acknowledge your feelings, so you buried your attraction deep down and continued to be his friend.

That's why you were so surprised when he took your hands in his after finishing a mission you had been assigned to with him.

"Y/n." And that was all he said for a beat, his figure seeming to almost glow in the moonlight as those flaming eyes hooked onto yours, rendering you unable to look away.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and carried a hint of gentle warmth that brought heat to your cheeks.

"Y/n... I've been meaning to tell you for the longest time."

You held your breath, knowing he would probably want to tell you that you had to come over and train with him at his estate again, but some stubborn part of your brain refused to stop hoping he would say something else.

"I think that you are an amazing, hardworking individual, with talent and great potential to be better than you already are. I enjoy spending each day I get by your side, and we work well together. I simply cannot deny it anymore..."

"Y/n... I have fallen for you."

If your cheeks were burning earlier, it was nothing compared to now.

You sucked in a gasp, thoughts racing frantically through your head wondering whether or not this was a joke.

But the sincere look in his eyes made everything else around you slow. They were so... clear. You could see exactly how he felt.

And he was telling the truth.

With a shaky breath, you managed, "I love you too."

His tender smile turned into a beaming grin as soon as the words left your mouth.

He found every single thing you did endearing.

He wrapped you in a tight, but comfy and warm bear hug and chuckled, "It sure took us a while, didn't it?"

You felt almost dizzy from the relief and whispered into his shoulder, "It was all worth it in the end though..."

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️------------------------------------

A bit into the next week, it was the day scheduled for your first date.

You were a bundle of nerves, fidgety and anxious.

You had already swapped the clothes you were to wear five times, and were resisting the urge to go change once again.

"After all," you tried to assure yourself, standing in front of the large mirror in your room, "we're just going to have some tea together."

It was a favorite of Kyojuro's, a small tea joint which was actually quite good. It was famous in this little town, and people from all over came just to taste their stellar matcha.

You took a minute to sit down and wait for Kyojuro, thinking.

"How long has he loved me? Does he really love me?"

"No, Y/n," you said aloud, snapping yourself out of it. "Don't doubt him. You saw how he looked at you."

You sat there in silence for another three minutes before a knock at the door made you jump.

"Y/n!" Kyojuro's familiar voice could be heard from behind the painted wood. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, give me a minute!" You called, scrambling to grab your shoes and put them on, before skidding into the bathroom and adjusting a few stray strands of hair and checking your reflection one last time.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

And there he was.

Blazing hair flowing onto his shoulders as usual, that smile like the sun on his face. And...

"His clothes," You thought, all the air once again drained from your lungs.

He was dressed impeccably, in a way that showcased both his casual and formal side at once. It made you feel like you should go change for the sixth time.

But that feeling melted away as he looked you over in polite awe.

"Y/n! You look stunning!"

"It's because this is your first time seeing me out of my Corps uniform...", you muttered, embarrassed, as you shut the door behind you and joined him on the steps outside.

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️------------------------------------

He insisted on carrying you, so you arrived at the slightly busy restaurant ten minutes later in his comfortable arms.

You could see everyone else's eyes on you as he gently set you down.

And hear the whispers.

But unlike what you originally thought would happen, people seemed happy for you two.

"Look! It's Rengoku-san and somebody... I think it's his date. They look good!"

"Oh my, what a cute couple!"

"Wow, Rengoku-san's really lucky!"

"Is that Y/n? And Ren- wait... AWW~!"

Well, either it was just you or the place was rapidly getting warmer....

Kyojuro settled you down at a small cedar table set for two before taking a seat himself, looking around. He had a huge grin on his face as he leaned in and murmured to you.

"You seem to be stealing everyone's attention, hmm? Just like how you stole mine."

You were busy looking out the window at the bustling town, your back to him, but heard his words.

And he knew too, by the red coating the tops of your ears.

Before he could continue, a waitress arrived.

"Hello!" she chirped cheerfully, "What can I get you two today?"

You turned. "Can we get two cups of your specialty matcha? I've heard it's the best around."

She wrote it down with a smile and a nod, confirming the rumor. "Anything else, or will that be all?"

Kyojuro cut in. "And one vanilla taiyaki. Thank you!"

She put in the dessert on her notepad and waved as she left to go serve another table.

The food arrived quickly. In the span of five minutes, in fact.

And that was when you discovered the pure bliss of eating with the person you loved.

Kyojuro had graciously split the taiyaki in half, and it was delicious.

The mix of vanilla and matcha was giving your taste buds something to celebrate as you savored every bite/sip.

He watched your face, feeling your joy himself as you two chatted and ate.

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️-----------------------------------

Thirty minutes had passed and you were stuffed to the brim.

After six extra steaming cups of matcha and four more taiyaki, you refused any more food, clutching your stomach.

Kyojuro himself had eaten two times what you had and miraculously looked even better than before.

After you said thank you to the owner and headed out, he motioned for you to sit next to him on a bench.

You didn't hesitate to sit close to him and asked, "Why did you eat so much? Won't your stomach hurt tomorrow?"

He laughed, "It's my gratitude to the owner. So he makes more money and stays in business with his spectacular food for a long time. If even it's just a little, I want to help."

What a perfect man.

But... "You should have let me pay!"

"Absolutely not. Y/n, this was our first date. Of course I had to pay. And, like I just told you, I want to help. One should never take another's money if they are capable of paying themselves."

You just couldn't hold back your sigh.

"What?" He asked, surprised. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, quite the opposite. You said exactly the right thing. I sighed because it's impressive how much you do for others", you said simply.

"Oh trust me, Y/n, just wait. I do even more for the people I love."

---------------------------------❤️❤️❤️-----------------------------------

End!

How did you like it?

I might post a Giyu x Y/n fic if you all liked this and want me to.

TELL ME IF YOU LIKED IT PLEASE!

CREDS:

Kyojuro Rengoku - Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer

Y/n - literally every fanfic writer

Inspo - @risingscorchingsuns I thought of you while writing this

Date setting - Google

Vanilla taiyaki - @nothingtoseehere1-2-3

Exhaustion - three days of staying up to write this

Irritation - autocorrect

Emotional support - @nothingtoseehere1-2-3 @knyinfinity @tor-the-tortilla

Bye! Thanks for reading!

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x reader #kny fic #kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #anime and manga #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku #flame hashira #x y/n fluff #first fic #help #charming man #for you #creative writing #fanfic writer #female writers #moots

65 notes · View notes

theaceace · 5 months

Text

Ok so when Rose gives the heart back to unity once more rendering her the vortex and then she dies in her sleep, something goes wrong (either because Desire set a sneaky trap or because it's close enough to breaking the rules of Endless not hurting family) that there's an explosive reaction, and when the chaos dies down Rose is still in the dreaming even though that definitely should have woken her up and Dream is nowhere to be found

Now Rose is stuck in the dreaming, and after a quick five minutes of panicking, comes to the conclusion with Lucienne and Unity that she'll have to track Dream down and get him to fix this. Lucienne needs to return to the palace to keep the dreaming running smoothly, Unity despite seeming chill about it has just DIED and also has never actually used any of her vortex powers the way Rose has and I'm basically just handwaving the fact that Rose is going to have to search for Dream on her own

Or not entirely on her own! Matthew is there, because every young woman embarking on a solo adventure needs a sassy talking animal sidekick, them's the rules

So Rose and Matthew set out on a trek through the dreaming, and this is the point where I could get wildly creative if I had the brainpower, and come up with fantastical dreamworlds

Because this is an AU and I say that being the descendent of an Endless should have some perks, Rose can still travel between dreams, she just can't affect them/the waking world or bring down the walls between dreams the way she could before. She's more akin to Matthew or Lucienne than a vortex, despite being human and aliveSo they spend a while chasing dead ends and leads that go nowhere until they wind up in some dream set in a pretty normal pub, and in true dreamlogic fashion there are people in clothes that come from a mishmash of the last 7 centuries, eating by rushlight while on their phones. But! Rose looks over and there's Dream! Amazing, they found him!

Matthew's like uhhhhh, I've spent a lotta time with the bossman, Rose, I'm not so sure that's - but it's too late she's already marching over

Meanwhile, Hob has been having a really nice dream in which his Stranger enjoys his company and didn't stand him up and doesn't wander off to 'inspire' any upstart playwrights and smiles at him like he did when they finally met up again a couple of weeks ago or whenever it was. He really wasn't expecting it to be interrupted by a girl rushing over to grab his Stranger's shoulder all excited about how we've found you Dream we were so worried are you ok???

And look. Hob is pretty used to rolling with the punches. After seven hundred years on planet earth, you gotta be. But this is, he hates to say, a pretty fucking weird turn for his dream to take usually it turns more toward his Stranger bending him over the table ahem

Also there's a talking bird. Why not

Rose has now realised that this Dream is not, in fact, the real Dream. BUT that means this guy must know Dream! Maybe he can help out? And Matthew is like wait, wait a second. You. YOU'RE the guy the boss went all starry-eyed (literally) over???

Hob reckons uuuuuhhhhh probably not? Took him seven hundred years to admit they're friends, and Matthew is like holy shit that hussy

Anyway I want Rose Hob and Matthew to go on a roadtrip adventure to save Dream is what I'm getting at. I was to continue the glorious tradition of Hob learning things about his friend (😍) thanks to other people and not from his friend himself (😭). I want Hob to play accidental therapist to Rose like he does to his students. I want Matthew to mock him mercilessly. I want Hob to sometimes be an asshole. I want them to BOND

And I want them to make it to the house of secrets and the house of mysteries where Hob is forcibly reminded that he was raised a Catholic medieval peasant when he sits down for tea with Cain and Abel (who think that Gadling would be an excellent name for a gargoyle if Morpheus ever makes another).

I want Abel to offhandedly mention something unspeakably horrible in the basement, but when Rose opens that door it just leads into a big fancy hallway? They go through anyway, and something feels different about this dream. Matthew is all 'I got a bad feeling about this' because Patton Oswalt loves Star wars and I think it's funny. Maybe they see a stuffed raven with a white breast in a room of taxidermied animals

So they keep looking, and eventually Hob finds a door leading to a basement, cracks a silly joke about finding something unspeakably horrible down there to cover up the fact that he's actually fucking terrified (he's come to accept that this is not a dream in the traditional sense, although it took way longer than it should have), and heads down the staircase

(It's the snow globe)

And here I start to run out of momentum a bit but like. I think Hob Rose and Matthew deserve to come together to roast the shit out of Dream while Lucienne tracks their progress from the library with Unity and Merv, who are also roasting the shit out of Dream, and all roasting comes to an abrupt and choked end when they get to the basement

Maybe Dream has been reduced to a cloud of swirling black sand in the orb, or maybe he looks almost exactly as he did in reality, maybe the Dream Team have to get him out but in order for that to happen he has to allow them to help, or maybe he needs to free himself because something something it's a metaphor idk. Maybe Dream, in whatever state he's in, panics at the sight of his bae friend, his raven, and his niece all outside the glass just like Jessamy was. Maybe he tries to throw them all out of the dream, but he's weakened himself as though he really were trapped in the circle again, and Rose is able to stand her ground against him.

And idk I don't really have an ending beyond 'Dream gets out and everyone is OK and also Rose and Hob end up being exasperated penpals over Dream's... Dream-ness.

#Sandman #rose walker #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling #matthew the raven #On today's episode of 'fics I have in my head so vividly and Simply Cannot Put To Paper'#A considerably less angsty installment this time #The dreamling is more background this time also but I love Rose so

95 notes · View notes

love-toxin · 1 year

Note

Opinion on this idea: Instead of an engagement ring, Bully!Eddie makes reader get a tattoo of his name somewhere where he can only see 😼 (But maybe will give her a nice engagement ring down the line once he's able to save up).

OKAY......SO.......

(cws: bully!Eddie, tattooing, needles, f!angelface.)

for one: homemade tattoo. Eddie designs it and tells you he's gonna apply it himself, don't be a baby he's done it before, but he refuses to let you see the tattoo beforehand. you're terrified but you did agree to it, and you agreed to marry him, so.....all you can really do is just trust him. he wants to put it on your chest, right in the middle and just below your tits, so it'll be covered by your clothes and only occasionally seen if you wear a bikini or something. when he dips that scary-looking needle into his little pot of ink you're shaking, already close to tears and expecting him to just jab it right in--but he's so gentle, does the tiniest line and looks up at you to ask "s' the pain okay?" and when you process what he's saying and finally nod, he goes back to it, focused hard on what he's doing and slinking one of his hands up to hold yours when it gets really painful.

when it's done, somehow you're even more scared to see it, even though he doesn't have that smug smirk on his face that would tell you he's done something awful. but once Eddie's deemed that you've been laying down enough and he's gotten a little water in you, he helps you up and shows you what it looks like in the mirror, uncharacteristically quiet all the while. what you see staring back at you is a little black bat just like his, but its wings are outstretched and written across them are a line of little letters in a gothic-esque script; an E followed by a plus and the initial of your first name, with Munson carefully scrawled even smaller underneath it so the whole name fits. it's.....it's nicer than you were expecting, and you have no idea how relieved Eddie is when you tell him you love it. he can't even boast, he just smiles to himself, grateful that those long weeks of planning out the design and redrawing it a million times paid off.

aside from that, I also like the idea of bully!Eddie having no real concept of what's appropriate for an engagement ring. he knows what you like, but he doesn't know how much he should spend--and when he's saved up enough, he's stricken with fear when he shows what he picked out to his uncle, and Wayne just goes white as a sheet.

"fuck, what is it? is the colour off? does it look cheap? goddamn it, that lying fucking prick of a salesman-" Eddie nearly goes into a full, flustered rant as he pulls his hand back, looking over the ring like he hadn't done so a million times before he bought it and after--until Wayne stops him, and laughs.

"son, she's going to have a heart attack when she sees that, it's gorgeous. what on god's earth did you pay for a ring like that?"

let's just say Wayne is rendered speechless for a second time when Eddie tells him the price, completely blown away by how nonchalant his nephew is as he asks "what? i saved up my bonuses, and it's the kind she likes. you don't give a woman like that some cheap piece of shit." needless to say, Eddie's surprised to hear that he's probably spent about two or three times the amount any normal person would, but there's no way he's returning it for something more reasonable, cause it's the one ring he's found that's exactly what you would look for. of course, he's not gonna be totally certain until he gives it to you, but he's definitely gonna have quite the puddle of happy and shocked tears to mop up when he pulls it out on your anniversary.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie's angelface #bully!eddie munson #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #anons

348 notes · View notes

fandomscompilation · 11 months

Text

The story of two broken souls (Kaz Brekker x Reader) Part 7

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: eventual Kaz Brekker x Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, drugs, slight sexual actions

A/N: Hello! Welcome to another part! I made this one so we could see a bit more action from the Blade. I know it's not as easy to render someone unconscious as I described, but I suck at fights/action descriptions, so forgive me. Although, I still hope you'll enjoy this part. Remember requests are open and let me know what you think!

Taglist: @d34drapunzel @coldheartedmar @igakc

Gif is not mine!

"Wake up." I groaned at Jesper's voice. He was shaking my shoulder making me swat away his hand. He chuckled before ripping my duvet away.

"I'm gonna kill you." I threaten sitting up and glaring at the smiling boy.

"No you won't. You love me too much." He shrugged throwing my duvet on the bed and heading for my dresser. It was four months since I started working for Brekker and in that time I managed to befriend Jesper. He was a constant in my life by now. "We're going out to collect some intel."

"Why?" I groaned getting up and taking my clothes from him. I walked behind the curtains to change, while he walked around my room to probably collect my belongings.

"Kaz wants us to spy on few guys. There's talks of potential outbreak in one of the gangs." I hummed tying up my hair. Ever since Brekker send me out with Inej, I was send on different types of errands. Most Dregs saw me as the fourth Crow, while I stubbornly said I was still only a bartender. "And since you're good at getting informations out of men he wants you to come with me."

"So I'm basically going to do all the work and babysit you in the meantime?" I furrowed my brows going back to him. He handed me my pistol and two small swords that I hid under my cloak.

"We can grab your favourite coffee on the way back." He smirked leading me out of my room.

"You know that you should drink coffee after you wake up, not when you're already halfway into the day." I huffed walking downstairs with him. Jesper only threw his arms around my shoulders and we went through the Slat with me waving at the few Dregs.

"I hope you'll do the job faster knowing you'll get your coffee when we're done." He explained leading me through the streets. I hummed agreeing and watched the people. I could tell from the crowd that I only got few short hours of sleeps. I had a night shift that turned longer dew to the massive crowd at the bar.

We walked the streets acting like we were there to buy things, with Jesper actually spending money on a new belt and a brooch to his hat.

"The three men at the corner." He said quietly making me nod lightly. I smiled picking up one of the shawls and acting like I was trying it on. We laughed for a bit before I put it down.

"Oh, I want to check that stall." I said pointing excitedly at the stall that was right next to the men. There were some old things layed out and I figured one of them was selling them.

"We were supposed to get coffee now." Jesper frowned playing along and I made puppy eyes at him. "Fine, go ahead. I'll get coffee by myself." He groaned making me smile broadly. With a quick wink his way I skipped to the stall.

I walked up to the table and skimmed my eyes over the display. I heard the men quiet down and could feel their eyes on me, but acted like I didn't notice.

"Can I help you young lady?" I raised my head looking startled.

"Oh, sorry. I just noticed your stall and couldn't stop myself from heading over." I looked to the other men and bit my lip in embarrassment. "I can come back another time if-"

"Nonsense." He waved me off stepping closer and the others walked away. "A client as beautiful as yourself shouldn't have to wait."

"Thank you." I smiled bashfully and looked down to his display. "How did you acquire such a collection sir?"

"I travelled a lot." He shrugged acting nonchalantly and I looked up at him with amazement in my eyes. "You can call me William, sweetheart." I blushed looking down again. I picked up a small beaded bracelet and run my fingers over it.

"This one looks amazing." I said gushing over the jewellery. He chuckled taking it off my hands and clasping it around my wrist.

"Looks even better now." He winked making me giggle.

"How much for this one?" I asked looking up at him through slightly hooded eyes.

"Take it as a gift." William smiled before quickly eyeing me up. "What do you say about drinks later on?" I raised my eyebrows gaping softly.

"That would be nice." I smiled acting shy and looked to the bracelet again.

"Then let's meet here in four hours. I should be done by then." He smiled my way again and I noted giggling again.

"I'll see you then." I waved before hurrying off to find Jesper.

He was waiting around the corner hidden from William. He smirked giving me my coffee which I gladly accepted.

"So?" He asked starting to walk to the Club.

"I've got myself a bracelet." I laughed showing my wrist off. Jesper chuckled rolling his eyes.

"What about intel?" He pressed on and I shrugged.

"His name is William and he's going to take me out for drinks in four hours." I said carelessly and the boy gasped in shock.

"Just like that?" He sounded surprised and I shook my head lightly.

"Oh Jesper. All I had to do is bat my eyelashes and blush a bit for the man to think I was an innocent girl he can take advantage off. It works every time." I said stepping into the Club. Jesper led me to the booth were Kaz was looking over the tables.

"She's meeting one of them in four hours." He was the one to speak up and Kaz turned to look my way.

"Couldn't get any intel?" He asked with a sharp edge to his tone.

"Couldn't really go up to them and straight up ask." I snapped lightly before sipping the rest of my coffee.

"Make sure to get as much information as you can." Brekker said turning to the tables again.

"No worries, I'll get him tipsy and work my magic." I murmured eyeing the bar and I got up sighting. "Now excuse me gentlemen, but I can see we're short on staff."

"You finished your shift only five hours ago." Brekker squinted his eyes at me and I shrugged.

"Might as well get back to work for those few hours I'm free." I said before sliding behind the bar and helping with orders.

The few hours went by quickly with the amount of people at the bar. I had hands full of work, but when it was nearly my time I bid my goodbyes and ran to the Slat. I quickly picked up more girly clothes to play the part and left to find William.

He was standing near the place his stall used to be and he broke into a smile seeing me.

"Hi." I said softly and he grabbed my hand to kiss my knuckles.

"You look beautiful." He complimented making me blush lightly. "Shall we?" He linked our arms before leading me in the direction of a bar.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously and William only smirked before asking me about myself. I told him bits and pieces and asked about his life too. He was answering quickly and perfectly, which made me realise he had a story made up already. It won't be as easy as I believed.

We took a table at one of the neutral bars and I let myself relax slightly. It was safe in places like this. William order a glass of wine for me and whiskey for himself.

"So tell me about your travels. You said you did it a lot." I put my hand under my chin and willed myself to look as innocent as possible. A girl stuck in a grime city of Ketterdam.

"I traveled the seas." He smiled going into a long story about his travels. Visiting each city and every shore and going as far as crossing the Fold twice. I played along acting like I was in awe. His stories were much to colorful to be true, but I didn't point it out.

"Why did you come back to such a dark place as this city then?" I asked feigning confusion which he laughed at. I could tell he was already drank slightly with the way he looked to my body more often and his smirk turned lazy.

"I've got a good deal going on." William whispered leaning over the table.

"Like with your selling business?" I asked innocently with slightly widened eyes.

"That's just some fun." He waved taking a huge gulp of whiskey. "The boys you've seen me with are helping me get even. A bad guy thought he could trick me and take my money. Now, I'm going to take what's mine and maybe a bit more." William put a strand of my hair behind my ear and I had to stop my shiver of disgust. "What do you say we get out of here, huh?"

"Yeah." I breathed out shakily and we left with William paying. He had his arm wrapped around my waist and he stumbled a bit, but I could tell he was strong enough to pin me down. Still, I played along laughing at his dirty jokes and blushing at his touch. Soon we came near a run down motel and he led me upstairs to his room.

I stopped near the doors while he walked in further.

"Come on. I don't bite." He smirked my way making me bit my lip and sit down on his sofa. He sat near me and handed me another glass of wine.

"I thought you had your own place?" I asked looking around the room.

"Used to. This way is cheaper and I can put my money in the other business." William shrugged drawing weird patterns on my clothed shoulder.

"Right, the one you mentioned." I nodded taking a sip of my wine, but I felt the wooden taste on my tongue. I acted like I swallowed the wine and went for another sip letting the wine from my mouth go back to the glass. I swallowed again and I could see William smirk in satisfaction.

"You know, I wanted some company for awhile now. And here you are, such a gentle girl." He moved closer to me and put my hair back to whisper in my ear. "I'll make you mine. And when I rule the Razorgulls you'll be showered in gold and silk." He kissed behind my ear and started to move down my neck. I acted dazed and put my hand behind his neck.

I ran my fingers over his spine and found the spot I loved to use. He was nearing my cleavage when I pushed down on the hollow place under his skull. In his lustful actions he didn't notice the pressure and soon I felt his body weight down on me. I huffed pushing him off. He was unconscious probably for only short period of time so I quickly looked around his room and read through few papers before slipping out of his room.

#fanfiction #writing #fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker series #the story of two broken souls #requests are open

34 notes · View notes

lovesosweeet · 5 months

Text

better left unsaid // cth

chapter thirty five

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

october 17, 2018 london, england calum

My sister insists that I spend our short break after the American leg in London. We made up our San Diego and San Jose shows yesterday and the day before, and I immediately went to the airport after the show to head to England. I got here around 12:00 local time, and Mali greeted me at the airport very happily. I wasn’t in the mood, but it is always nice to see her.

She took me back to her flat where I took a nap after not sleeping at all on the plane, but she woke me up promptly at 6 pm, saying she has dinner reservations for us.

I’m still not in the mood.

Today should have been my two year ‘official’ anniversary with Orion. In my eyes, I was entirely hers and hers alone since we met at Space Monkey, but I know that’s not how she viewed it. I should be spending the day with her, but instead we’re on opposite sides of the world, both miserable. I assume she’s miserable. If how much misery I’m in is any indication of how she’s doing, I can’t imagine she’s doing well.

And I don’t have cancer.

Mali and I are tucked into a corner booth at her favorite restaurant. It’s dark in here, with soft ambient lighting and candles at each table. It would feel romantic if I were here with Orion.

“Alright, I know you’re kinda down today,” Mali starts, and that’s where I stop her.

“Kinda down?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Mali, I understand exactly what you mean, and you’re wrong. You are belittling everything that I’m going through right now.”

Mali moves her head back, her eyes going wide and she looks away from me. She mutters, ‘wow’ under her breath before she speaks again at a normal volume. “Calum, please. Can I finish what I wanted to say?”

I purse my lips. “Sure, what did you want to say?”

I watch my sister take a few breaths in and out. “I know you’re dealing with a really shitty breakup, but that doesn’t mean we can’t just have a nice dinner together.”

My new signature bitter laugh comes out of my mouth without a second thought. I fold my hands on the table and shake my head, my eyes focused on the cloth napkin rolled around silverware in front of me.

“First, do you know what today is?” I ask, breaking my eye contact with my napkin to look at her.

Her immediate shift to a confused expression answers the question for me.

“It’s supposed to be our anniversary.”

Mali’s face softens and she reaches across the table for my hand, but I pull mine into my lap. She frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was today.”

“Second, Mal, it’s more than just a ‘really shitty breakup.’”

She raises her eyebrows, inviting me to elaborate.

“I am not only getting used to not having the love of my fucking life in my life anymore, the reason she’s not in my life is because she wanted to spare me the shitty experience of watching her die of terminal cancer. She’s dying, and I can’t even be with her through it. Oh, and my best friend—actually, no, my brother knew that my girlfriend was dying and lied about it. Do you know what that feels like?”

Dramatically, I pause, but I know Mali isn’t going to answer.

“No, you don’t, because nobody else can even fathom that it would happen. It’s not shit anyone else, probably ever, has gone through. Shitty is just one word out of hundreds that I could to describe how absolutely soul-crushing, mind-fucking, and heartbreaking it is to experience this.”

My sister is rendered practically speechless and she doesn’t seem to know what to say. I’m upset now, and am even more annoyed by being dragged to dinner. It would be a great time to leave right now, when I’m already being dramatic, but I can’t bring myself to stand up.

“Calum, I’m sorry,” she says with a gentle voice. “Truly, so sorry. I know how much you love her. She loves you too, and we all know it. If I know Orion, or anything about any of the other people close to her, this is temporary.”

My eyes are watering now and I look back down to my napkin. “But what if it isn’t?” I whisper.

Mali sighs, and the next thing I know, she’s on my side of the booth with me, hugging me with her healing big sister hug. “Have some faith, C. Love as strong as yours isn’t going away. It’ll pull you back together again. I’m sure of it.”

We manage to have a somewhat enjoyable dinner together. We split a bottle of cabernet, Orion’s favorite, and I’m able to stomach some of the creamy pasta I ordered. Mali tells me all about her latest music projects and promises to play me snippets of her favorite pieces when we go back to her place. She shares that she’s thinking about getting a cat and has started looking at a few rescues to see if any of them call out to her but she hasn’t found the right one yet.

She also offers to come on the Europe leg with us if it would help me to have an extra support person around right now. I can’t ask her to give up her life just to be there for me, so I tell her it’s fine, but if she wants to join for just the UK section that would be fun.

And now, as we walk back to her flat, warm inside from the wine, I realize that I just did what Orion did.

I pushed my sister away and didn’t want her to join me on tour because I didn’t want her to put her life on hold. I don’t want her to be there for me, not because it wouldn’t be nice, but because I love her and she has a life to live, friends to see, songs to write and record.

Somehow, on opposite sides of the world, the realization makes me feel closer to her.

read next chapter

#5sos #luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #fanfiction #5sosfam #imagine #fanfic #michael clifford #calum 5sos #calum fanfic #calum fic #calum x ofc #calum x fem!oc #better left unsaid

8 notes · View notes

j1r4ch2 · 2 months

Text

I'll admit that my opinion is probably colored by the cynicism of never succeeding at making money being a creative and instead constantly scrambling back and forth from various min wage entry level industries just to make ends meet, but i think that the way artists are conceptualizing AI video rendering as the end of the world is kind of ridiculous.

Obviousely the possibility of artistic jobs being downsized is very real. There is a present reality of AI taking good jobs from real people. It sucks. It's awful. Real people are suffering; I'm not denying that.

But at the same time this technological paradigm isn't going away any time soon, and as it is now, is way too resource intensive to replace every artist making a living with thier work.

Maybe someday down the road enough GPU farm services will be widely enough available where it is feasible for companies to use generative AI for all of their media needs, thus eliminating countless jobs for artists who spent decades of their life honing a skill, but if being demoted from a professional artist to a hobbyist is the end of the world for some people I seriously question why they practice their craft in the first place.

If it was always for the money, then let the robots take the burden of performing the role of a artist from you, and please relearn creating just to feel something inside of you.

We've had knitting machines and mass produced clothing and textiles for ages, yet in this day where my car can drive itself, people spend hours learning to do fibercrafts etc. And you aren't hearing about etsy fiber artists making 60k/year from their work yet they still enjoy the creative process of it!

This is a nuanced conversation, and a lot of people in poverty situations are going to lose access to their jobs as it becomes automated away, in a more exponentially growing version of what's been going on since 2008 and even back to the 90's.

Its a real problem, but the majority of creators i see whining about this on tumblr, YouTube etc. are middle class or higher individuals who's only experience in blue collar work is the half year they spent working part time at their university campus Starbucks.

A lot of people think they're mad because automation is threatening the validity of their job, but they're actually mad because they think learning a creative skill makes them better than your average blue collar worker and they're appaled at the idea of being the same as the people who run their electric grids, clean their sewers, and stock their supermarkets.

Theyre just using the cultural backlash against explotative machine learning (which is a justified backlash, it's fucking wrong for these generative models to be stealing existing work of art and incorporating it into its training, that's not what I'm defending here) as an excuse to dodge the awareness that they don't think anyone should be doing blue collar work because surely they never dreamed of doing it.

As it stands now generative AI models are too resource intensive to truly replace the scale of workers people act like they will, and the advancement of ML algorithms has enough real potential to better people's lives that its not going away, so I think aside from doing the work of protecting our existing art with things like nightshade etc, it's important to be realistic and give up the fantasy that we are at war with AI companies, and must win, or even more delusion at war with the very concept of machine learning.

Its reminiscent of people who were afraid of computers in 1995 and now can't function in their daily life without the help of their gen z loved one to help them navigate the most basic of user interfaces.

Society will advance, regardless of how we like it, all we can do is be resourceful about it, and find ways that the advancement benefits us.

#Or yall can go on daydreaming about dismantling algorithms or something #Personal #AI

4 notes · View notes

thewild--flower · 2 years

Text

[Translation] Code: Realize Future Blessings Short Story - Victor Frankenstein

Source: Code:Realize Future Blessings Stella Set Exclusive Booklet

Scan credit: Kou

Summary: Victor falls asleep after spending all night researching only to make a startling discovery.

Page 09 Victor Frankenstein

Midnight.

'Now then, today I think I'd like to do a bit more research on anesthetics. After all, if I can utilize them effectively, we can completely render our enemies powerless…..'

2am.

'Hm….. as expected, it really is too strong….. At the very least, I have to adjust the concentration so that there are no after-effects…..'

4am.

'Huaaah…..uff….. Guess we can't be using something this volatile in actual combat, huh. Which means, I need to think about whether to change the method of application or investigate other uses…..

6am.

'.....Ugh…..so…..sleepy…..! B-but….. just a little longer, I feel like I'm almost onto some…..thing…..'

Fighting against the wave of drowsiness that hit me, I took off my glasses and massaged my eyes. Taking a quick glance at my watch, I realized it was already around the time when it wouldn't be unusual for the others to be up and about. I, Victor Frankenstein, who had been sitting down working since the night before, collapsed forward onto my desk with a thud and breathed a deep sigh.

'Oh no….. Even though I know I shouldn't, I've pulled another all-nighter…..'

Completely forgetting about the time when concentrating on research was a bad habit of mine ever since my Royal Society days. With a light sigh, I pressed my cheek closer against the desk and closed my eyes.

'Ahh….. it's so….. nice and cool…..'

I knew that I really should just go to bed, but unfortunately, right now I just couldn't quite work up the energy….. s-since it had come to this, there was no helping it. A moment. Just for a moment—.

I'll take a quick nap here at my desk.

5 minutes. No, 10 minutes. Once I'd taken a quick nap for just 10 minutes….I'd get changed…..

And then………… get….. into….. bed…..

…..

…………

———————.

' ——————Huh!?'

Waking up in a panic, I thrust aside the blanket that had been covering me.

The sun was high up in the sky.

That alone told me that my plan to nap 'just for a moment' was completely in tatters.

'Aaaah…..! I really am…..! Sigh…..

I've really done it now….. And it was only meant to be 5 minutes…..'

Completely exhausted, I got out of bed and put my hand to the buttons on my pyjamas.

….. At that moment, a feeling of uneasiness I couldn't quite shake brought me to a standstill.

'Huh? Come to think of it, when did I change into my pyjamas…..?'

And now that I was at it, I didn't have any memory of getting into bed either.

Still puzzled, I stretched out my hand to put on my glasses.

On the table, together with my familiar looking glasses….. a note written on a single piece of paper had been left, wedged in between them.

The contents of the note read:

'To Victor. When you go to sleep, make sure it's in a proper bed.'

'.....Um….'

Little by little my brain was starting to return to its normal operating capacity.

At the same time, memories that I was probably happier not recalling, gradually began to trickle into my mind.

'Victor. Wake up, Victor.'

'.....Mnnn…..just…. five more minutes…. '

'If you're really tired, it's OK to sleep. But you gotta get changed and get into bed first.'

'..........Mnn~.....'

'Come on, Victor. Can you get changed?'

'.....Uuh…..I can't…..'

In other words.

After I had fallen asleep face-down at my desk, Cardia had—

'PS. I've put the clothes you were wearing out for washing. —Cardia.'

'?!'

In a total panic, I changed out of my pyjamas and threw on my coat.

And then, just like that, I dashed out of my room at top-speed.

The hallway. Not there.

The parlour. Not there.

Her room. Not there…..!

'C-Cardia!?'

Out of breath, I finally found her in the dining room.

There she was, gathering the dishes from the table. At the sound of my voice she slowly turned around.

'Ah….. Victor.'

'U-Um, that is…..About what occurred last night…..?'

'Sorry Victor. When I'm done here, I've got to go do the laundry with Saint-Germain.'

Her eyes had been completely turned away from me.

Beginning to walk off as if to avoid me, who had started speaking formally for some reason, Cardia spoke quietly.

'.............But, I just think it's wrong to ask a girl to "Take them off for me?"'

'Wh-whaaaaat!? What exactly did I say when I was half-asleep!? No, what exactly did I do—!?'

I desperately chased after Cardia, as she rapidly walked away at a brisk pace.

#code realize #code realize victor frankenstein #code: realize future blessings #cardia beckford #code realize translation

22 notes · View notes

5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 1 year

Text

Fics Including Luke’s Family Masterlist

Arcadia (ao3) - paperstorm michael/luke E, 100k

Summary: Crisp, thin air. The rough scrape of blades on ice. The jumbled, unintelligible echo of male voices, ringing off the rafters and bouncing through the empty seats. The familiar smell, sweaty equipment and rubber flooring and Zamboni fluid. Luke’s taken to closing his eyes sometimes, cutting off his primary sense, and just absorbing the noise and the scent and the feel of cool air on his cheeks. That way, regardless of where he is, an arena still feels like home. Or, an AU in which Luke is a small-town hockey superstar who gets drafted to the Montreal Canadiens, Ashton is the bubbly team Captain, Calum is a defenceman with a bad habit of settling on-ice conflicts with his fists, and Michael is the NHL's first openly gay player.

Chimney Heart (ao3) - rollercoastar michael/luke T, 4k

Summary: A low moan escaped Luke’s lips as Michael started to play with his lip ring, pushing Luke as close to him as possible. ‘’Okay, enough’’ Ben laughed, ‘’I think you left our Lukey boy all hot and bothered’’. Luke blushed furiously as Michael let out a laugh, ‘’this is nowhere near as bothered as he can get’’.

Or, Luke and Michael spend Christmas eve at the Clifford's playing board games, and Christmas day being teased and asked about their sex life by Ben and Jack.

Comment, Like, Subscribe My Heart (ao3) - thesoulsailor michael/luke N/R, 54k

Summary: It didn’t take more than the first three videos and Michael was hopelessly endeared. Luke was funny in an unintentional way and his words and stories were simply intriguing. The vlogs were a lot barer, broadcasted Luke’s life right into Michael’s bedroom. It felt weird, almost as if he and the blonde boy were friends, the way Michael learned Luke’s quirks and character, little things like the fact that Luke preferred soda over coffee. And Luke was not wearing make-up in some of them. or Youtube!AU in which Luke is a non-binary beauty guru, Michael is the lead singer of Ashton's cover band and Calum thinks gender roles are overrated anyways.

Don't Blink (ao3) - paperstorm michael/luke E, 20k

Summary: Suddenly Luke’s skin is itchy underneath and his clothes don’t feel right. He’s sweaty and uncomfortable with how good it feels having Michael pressed up against him. It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Luke doesn’t know why he never realized that until just now. This thing they do, where they’re always in each other’s space, always touching, always wrapped around each other – it’s how Luke should be with a girl. Not his best friend.

flowers in your hair (boys can't be pretty) (ao3) - prettyluke (parting_ways) luke/ashton, michael/calum N/R, 71k

Summary: Ashton has been in love with the pretty boy next door since he was seven. Luke has called Ashton home since he was five. They grew up with the daisy field behind their houses, but nobody told them that they couldn't love anywhere else.

if we make it through december (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) luke/ashton T, 28k

Summary: “I didn’t tell them,” he blurts. Ashton falls silent on the other end of the line. “My family. I didn’t tell them about the breakup. And I know that I should’ve and I swear I will, but Gram asked about you today and it’s probably her last Christmas with us and you know how much she loves you. I couldn’t do it. It’d break her heart, and I can’t do that to her. Not right now. So if you-- I mean. What I’m trying to say is that you’re still invited to Christmas, if you want. You don’t have to, I can make an excuse for you, and I swear I’ll tell them after the holidays, but I thought maybe… maybe you’d want to see them one last time.”

In Memoriam (ao3) - paperstorm michael/luke E, 59k

Summary: An accident during a performance ends for Luke in blood and total retrograde amnesia; rendering his mind an empty slate that doesn’t know as much as his own first name. His band is left to help him reassemble the scattered pieces of his life, to coax his memories back, and to deal with the fallout when the most important thing is the one thing Luke can’t remember.

let me go (ao3) - lukeisababe michael/calum, luke/ashton T, 7k

Summary: “Oh my god.” Calum says quietly from where he's sat at the small table for two in their kitchen. Michael turns around from where he's standing in front of the stove, making scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast, to see Calum with an honest to god newspaper in his hands. Michael wasn't even aware that they still subscribed to it.

“What's up?” He asks as he goes back to cooking, finishing up the last few pieces of bacon before he splits the food up on two plates, but Calum doesn't reply as he's too busy reading whatever headline there is for today. “Cal?”

“They've found a body. That Hemmings kid.”

or: the one where luke went missing three years ago and his body has just been found. michael is a ghost whisperer who helps luke moving on to the other side by putting the guilty one in jail.

Long Time, No See (ao3) - ConfusedPython michael/luke, calum/ashton T, 23k

Summary: Michael hears a song on the radio, catches a radio interview where 5 Seconds of Summer talks about their new single (Beside You). And the names and voices are familiar. Then someone knocks at the door and maybe Michael's luck isn't so bad after all.

Mockingbird (ao3) - thesoulsailor michael/luke E, 43k

Summary: It was then that Michael realised two things. First off the boy on the ground was gorgeous. All fair skin and scrawny limbs, golden hair styled into a faux hawk and mesmerising eyes, coloured a clear, sharp blue. He was breath-taking in a subtle way that didn't call for attention. Secondly the boy on the ground wore a yellow band around his upper arm, three black spots explaining why he wasn't fighting back. He couldn't. The boy was beautiful. The boy was blind.

or Luke is blind, Michael is new and everything after they meet is nothing one of them would've ever expected.

no body, no crime (ao3) - jbhmalum luke/ashton, luke/calum, michael/calum M, 11k

Summary: the no body, no crime songfic no one asked for

Rest (ao3) - ShyyyVictoria ot4 M, 14k

Summary: Luke is taken from a rest area after being tricked into helping a 'hurt' man. Then is sold to three guys for who knows what. He should have listened to his brother when he told him he was to innocent and gullible to trust people so blindly.

the dream that you wish will come true (ao3) - prettyluke (parting_ways) luke/ashton G, 17k

Summary: Luke didn't think he would ever escape the malice of his stepmother and stepbrothers, and Ashton didn't think he would ever find a boy he could love.

Tidal Wave - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) luke/ashton E, 127k

Summary: “We talked about it before we went over to fetch you,” Ashton starts, “and Michael talked it over with Liz, and we decided that you shouldn’t live on your own for the time being.”

“You decided that I shouldn’t live on my own,” Luke repeats. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m an adult who can make his own decisions.”

Ashton smiles, but it’s thin and void of humour. “You’re staying with me for a while, Luke.”

A story about figuring out how to handle the difficulties life throws at you, on your own and with the help of loved ones.

where the angels sing (ao3) - fermentedpotato michael/luke, calum/ashton N/R, 79k

Summary: The thing was: he kept seeing on TV and in ads on the sides of websites that told him to embrace your differences and that being different is okay! But those sentiments only rang true for his sexuality and his hair colour and his eyebrow piercing because once people found out about his cystic fibrosis they treated him differently. He was always alienated in some way and it always sucked.

or the one where Michael's illness gets in the way of almost everything and Luke takes a long time to open up

you've got a heart as loud as lions (ao3) - bisexual_jace M, 2k

Summary: “Are you gay?” It’s his father who asks, finally saying something. Luke looks at him sharply but his dad’s face is just as warm and intent, ready for whatever Luke has to say. Luke knows then, with certainty, that his family won’t ever judge him or condemn him for what he is. Stupid, again, to think otherwise.

“Yeah.” Luke confesses quietly.

The one where the Hemmings brothers walk in on Luke and Michael making out.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5 seconds of summer #5sos #luke hemmings #ben hemmings #jack hemmings #liz hemmings #andrew hemmings

2 notes · View notes

phosmic · 2 years

Note

So cute, and no problem! I just think he is neat, and would love to know more of his story connected to HoW! Also, loving Vincent lurking in the shadows, pffft.

Also... hypothetically speaking, if I happend to have drawn a dumb little doodle with River... and my slasher oc (purely platonic!!!!) would you like to see it? Totally a hypothetical question. If you feel uncomfortable about that I totally understand!

I would LOVE to see it! Submit it if u want 😤😤😤

River's story is still somewhat in development, so some things might get changed up later on. He ends up getting lost out in the backroads of rural Louisiana as he's on the run from his first murder. It was entirely in self defense, at least that's what he remembers of it.

All he remembers is being backed into a filthy alleyway outside his tattoo shop and then nothing. His brother ends up finding him, walking him to his car in his leather jacket over his shoulders. His brother, himself and his close knit gaggle of roommates decide to split off and meet up out in Nevada to escape the cops. Unfortunately, he never makes it there.

He's checking over his motorcycle on the side of the road, Lester is the first to stumble upon him. He points him over to Ambrose and suggests going over the museum, since he reads as the 'artsy' type. River decided to drive there, thinking such a small town might not have so many televisions, not so many eyes seeing his face plastered on the screen.

Upon arriving in town, the sound of organ music blaring from the church sends a chill down his spine, he doesn't want to think about that... he is past that... Then he's thanking from above that the townsfolk will stay busy. He parks at the mechanic shop and finds the town eerily empty. To his surprise, the town is brimming with old technology and cars lining the streets. The likelihood of being recognized lower than he anticipated, he decides to relax a little and wander the town.

This might be the last stop in a while where he can have that chance. A small respite of normalcy.

Jonesy is the next to greet him, circling around him and getting him to follow him to the wax museum, scratching at the door to be let in. He knocks, waits a few minutes before deciding to open the door, calling for anyone inside if they lost their dog. He follows Jonesy in, taking everything in. He has an affinity for strange, morbid artwork and he's saddened by the state this museum is in.

Years of dust, cobwebs lining these beautiful statues and paintings. He grows sad at how such excellently rendered work has seemingly been left uncared for. Forgotten in a dying rural town.

He glances over the newspaper clippings, the signature scratched into the corner of so many works stuffed in this museum. Vincent. Vincent. Another Vincent.

He stops at the waxen wall mural depicting a woman holding conjoined twin infants, surrounded by several figures atop numerous bodies (dead? sleeping? either way it was beautiful). He plops down on one of the benches, even those had been fashioned from wax. The dog jumps up, lying next to him with her head in his lap.

The anxiety that he has to leave soon grows stronger every second he spends sketching the mural in front of him. He doesn't want to think about it, he should be fine here for now. He's already so far from Baton Rouge, they're probably still chasing their own tails at his damned apartment. He can afford to burn some time while he waits for the service to be over.

The dog lifts her head up, he turns to look. A large man shrouded in layers of clothing and an eerie wax mask appeared from thin air it seems. He didn't hear him come in at all... he needs to pull it together, try not to step on too many toes. He's already done enough of that.

He looks up at him in the eyes (eye?), clearly he's startled this poor man. Akin to a frightened deer peering down the headlights of a semi. Maybe the mask was some sort of prosthetic? The faint scarring peeping from below the mask gave some sort of clue. He clears his throat to greet him, hoping he can hide his nervousness.

[ so yeah poor boy stumbles from a forest fire into the lion den this man's life has been a mess since the beginning tbh but yeah! this is just a snippet of the first day he gets there jfnksfjnkfs ]

#OC: River #vincent sinclair #house of wax

6 notes · View notes

nicetrynicetry · 6 months

Text

Because I have a fake job with no schedule, I haven’t expressed any kind of TGIF sentiment since school. And perhaps not even then, since the last day of school was the last day of seeing my friends, the teachers. Regardless, give me a week of social complexity in cold weather and I will absolutely be Thanking God That It’s Friday

I bring two posters to a framer nearby, one of an M C Escher drawing and one anatomical rendering of the human spine titled The Amazing Back. A frazzled and rude woman turns me away from the workshop because I don’t have an appointment, calling forth a “don’t you know who I am?” attitude in me that I only really have a right to indulge at these kinds of art-adjacent stores. I keep my indignation to myself, though I do remark that the website does not specify an appointment-only ethos. The woman shrugs and scurries upstairs. Then I walk away, my two ridiculous posters in hand, crying a little and feeling like a terrible amateur. I go home and remove all of my clothes because embarrassment raises my body temperature, then I put them all back on and head to my Raya coffee date, seeing no reason why I won’t be spurned like I was by the picture framers

At St John, people eat bone marrow and lobster legs around us, me and this handsome man from my phone. I no longer know how a first date should go, but this one isn’t horrific. In fact in some ways he’s perfect - gentle and put-together yet a little tortured in the face, a smoker and Jewish. Two items of jewellery - a complex and beautiful ring on his left hand and a small but thick hoop earring. I have more to talk about with an American stranger than with a British one, probably because I make more new friends stateside than at home. I make jokes and he laughs, tell him that Stonehenge is a little underwhelming. He shows me pictures on his phone, adverts made by American XL Bully breeders announcing that two “champions” have successfully mated and promising a new bloodline of puppies. They share a graphic sensibility with rap mixtape covers. Eventually we both make excuses for continuing our days. The walk back home is so cold that I climb directly into a running bath with my fleece still on. I am so determined to make it through the final hours of the week in one piece that it doesn’t occur to me to assess the date itself when N asks for details

By 5pm I am biking in the dark to meet J for a quick pre-dinner coffee. His fiancée is at home sick and so I take him to Shoreditch House, my membership app telling me I haven’t visited a soho house of any kind since 2019. If only we drank, I tell J, it would help me make a dent in the tab. When we are seated he presents me with a metal figurine of a regal figure with a screaming face. “It’s a Queen Baby”, J says, and so it is. I wish all relationships felt as natural as the one I have built with J in just a few months - the ease, the humour, the mutual sobriety. He doesn’t know (because I don’t tell him) that our meeting after such an emotionally taxing couple of days is like coming home. We watch two twenty-something girls play ping pong against an older man who might well be dating both of them. The open kitchen produces steaming artisan pizza as if from nowhere. I nag J about buying some gloves for his winter cycling, and go to meet P for dinner revived, more able to be myself

I deliberately choose Cycene for P and I because it is the only restaurant I can get a table at any time and because its tasting menu format allows for a 4 hour meal without being hurried out the door by an angry waiter. In the end we spend 4 and a half hours talking, punctuated by plates of tiny delicious food being placed in front of us with a brief (and not insufferable) explanation of where the scallop, the pigeon, or the shiso is from. Speaking with P is like jamming 40 novels and 10 documentaries into a juicer and drinking straight from the spout. He asks about my week’s dates, and I decide on a few highlights to relay rather than the whole squalid tale. I am also not nearly as good a story-teller as P, who I guess tells stories about real life events for a living

While I am grateful he profiled Larry this year, because it meant that we met, I can tell from P’s animated explanation of this next lead that he is back in his element. He would be the first to admit that the art world made him depressed, or at least the corner that Gagosian occupies. P, I think, needs to feel like he might be killed for his reporting, and despite the art world’s loose grasp on ethics and its ready access to money, the worst he came across was a cease and desist from Larry’s legal team. P wants to meet with ex-cops at undisclosed locations, uncover truth in its purest journalistic form and get in trouble for it, but crucially not so much trouble that he meets the same fate as the guy who upset the Russian mob two years ago: impaled on a metal railing in Marylebone with police calling it a “suicide”. We gnaw pigeon meat from a leg with its claw attached and P tells me about counterfeit wine, his son’s love of Radiohead and kimchi, and that he lost his Oura ring. Just as my body begins quietly begging me not to ingest any more food, a small quenelle of sorbet arrives. It tastes like Starburst’s short-lived Sour Green Apple line of candy. This is the easiest date of the week, precisely because it isn’t a date

0 notes

thearchivistsjournal · 2 years

Text

Day 108,

No scratching noises last night. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe the nature sprite just finally got bored with that bit.

*******

Once again I almost forgot that I was requested to do a private telling for a party tonight. At least this time around there were specific stories requested in advance so that takes off some of the pressure of trying to pick the right story to suit an audience I don’t know very well.

On the other hand, there’s the fact that the audience will actually be having expectations to live up to. I should probably spend the day reviewing the copies of those stories from the archive and practicing instead of just winging it.

Especially after how the equinox performance went.

*******

Well, that went well, if tiring. I needed that confidence boost. Still not sure if the fact that no one mentioned the equinox telling is proof that I did badly that night or evidence that no one has any criticism to make.

After the birthday party I performed at for the other clothing payment, I was expecting to arrive partway through festivities, partake of just enough refreshment to be polite, and then leave once I was done. That didn’t quite wind up being the case. For starters, there weren’t really “festivities” to speak of. Not really a party so much as a group of adult friends hanging out for a break from routine and looking for entertainment for the evening. Beyond that, while I’d initially thought the advance requests of multiple stories was to give me a repertoire for them to pick from, the expectation was in fact to tell several in a row. With breaks. As such, while the first story was payment for a previous service rendered, the encores were paid for in food and libations.

So, while it went well, it also went longer than I had anticipated. Between the late hour, the marathon speaking, and simply being in a room with people for that extended period, I’m too exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally, to write much more tonight.

<==Previous Next==>

1 note · View note

tommeraas-cc · 3 years

Text

A warning about high polycount custom content - for downloaders and creators

I don't claim to be an expert on custom content, but I've been making CC for nearly 4 years now and I think I've learned a thing or two about how to spot custom content that might not be best for your computer/game. I only recently got a computer that can handle some of the CC out there, so I wanted to make a guide on how to spot CC that might not be right for you if you want fast loading times, minimal overheating, or your computer isn't as powerful. This guide will mostly be about clothing, but I'm sure most of these things can be applied to other types of CC.

Disclaimer: Absolutely no hate to anyone who makes CC that is high polycount -- I am guilty of doing this without disclosing it earlier in my CC making journey. We are all learning and improving every day and we all have different preferences for our own CC making which is the fun part of this community :) If you are a CC creator who needs help avoiding high polycount please message me and I would 100% be willing to you help you

High polycounts

3D content is made up of vertices that connect to each other to create a 3D model that can be molded into different shapes (the small segments that make up these larger shapes are called polygons). The more little dots you have, the more detailed the item can be. However, there are ways to include detail without using a high number of these vertices and polygons, it just takes time and practice.

Why should I be wary of downloading CC with a high polycount?

There is a reason that clothing made by EA/Maxis has a limit to the number of polygons they can use in their meshes. If an item of CC has too high of a polycount, it could drastically slow down your game, overheat your computer, cause your game to crash, or even permanently damage the hardware of your computer. Of course, there are different tolerances for high polycounts based on the specs of your computer, so be aware of this before downloading. If your computer cannot run smoothly on the ultra graphics setting without CC installed, you should probably be proactive about the kind of CC you download to avoid these issues.

However, even those with high end computers can run into issues when trying to play with a lot of this kind of CC, so it is up to the individual player to decide what they want for their game. I permanently damaged my last computer by busting a fan due to graphics rendering in the Sims 4. Please do not make the same (very expensive) mistakes I have.

The case for high polycounts:

There are certain clothing items that would not be possible to model in the sims without a high polycount. The creators who make these very detailed meshes are super talented and have my utmost respect, but my old computer just couldn’t handle them! My rule of thumb for my own personal game is that if I’m going to download something with a crazy high poly count, it better be something special. In my opinion, there’s no reason a simple tank top should be 3x the polycount of an average EA mesh. A handful of high polycount items aren’t going to crash your game (probably-- know your own computer’s limits), but considering most people will download many items from the same creator, the collection of all of those items may cause issues.

CC creators make their meshes for fun and creativity, and many don’t create for the express purpose of having many people use a bunch of their meshes in their games at once. It’s totally fine to make high polycount custom content, but if you’re a CC creator it would be respectful to people who download your items and support you to be warned of these possible issues (especially if they are paying for them!!!). Most CC creators have high-end computers, but downloaders might not, which is something to keep in mind :)

How high is too high?

This is honestly a personal preference. For me, anything with more than double the average polycount is “unacceptable without disclosing” and must include a disclaimer when I post it. For toddler full body outfits, which is what I normally make, I would consider this to be around 10-12K as the max acceptable polycount to post without a disclaimer. This number varies based on the type of CC, with adult polycounts being higher usually (given that items are quite literally larger than toddler items). For adult full-body outfits, I try to stay under 15K, and anything over 20k I would consider needing a disclaimer. But, again, this is up for personal debate, and there are a lot of factors that go into this. I am just basing this information on EA’s limits and my personal experience from playing this game on lower end computers.

How to spot high poly-count CC

So, you’ve decided that for your personal game, you want to avoid high polycount CC. Unfortunately, many creators do not disclose when their CC has an high polycount, so it’s up to you to figure out which is which.

Before you download the item: for clothing, the easiest way to spot high polycount CC from preview photos is to look for folding in the fabrics. I don't have a high polycount CC of my own that is completed to show you, and I don’t want to put another creators CC here out of respect, so here is an example of an unfinished mesh that can get the point across.

As you can see, the folds in the sleeves look like they are mostly physically present, and that the folds aren't a result of the texture. This often results in sort of a "bumpy" look to the CC. If you're seeing clothing that has this tell-tale bumpy look with many folds that you can tell are 3-dimensional, you should probably avoid this CC (if you have decided to avoid high polycount CC). A small amount of bumps is normal but as you can tell by this skirt it's a little more extreme.

Below you can see the low polycount version of this cc item where the folds look much smoother and are not as 3 dimensional. I added details like the folds in the sweater and at the top of the skirt with textures and mapping rather than a high polycounts as you might be able to tell by the fact that there are smooth edges rather than 3D folds. I have a small section of ruffles on the sleeves that have maintained a higher polycount which you can see by the physical ruffles. Details like this are impossible to do with just textures.

There are many CC creators much more talented than I that are very good at using texture images to give off the illusion of detail without high polycounts. Look at the edges of the item where folds appear and if there’s a smooth line there, the creator might be using textures and mapping to give the illusion of folding!

After you download the item: Of course, you can always download Sims4Studio, the program CC creators use to import their meshes into the sims format, to check polycounts. If you open CC in this program and click the meshes tab, the polycount will be displayed here. I only do this for items that I think might be insane polycounts (like 100k+ or something ridiculous for clothing, which is about ten times higher than I would recommend) that might crash my game, otherwise, I usually just go by how the item looks in the previews with the tips I just told you.

There are some CC items that are pretty much guaranteed to have high polycounts. The vast majority of alpha hair will have high polycounts -- this is unavoidable and does not mean the CC is not high quality, it is just a necessity for that kind of CC. Just be aware that having many alpha CC hairs in your game might cause slowdown/overheating.

I am a CC creator who wants to start making lower polycount stuff that still has detail. How do I get started?

I started figuring out how to do detail via textures and normal mapping about two years ago. The main resource that helped me was this fantastic tutorial by SLYD. The main thing you need for this method is a lowpoly AND highpoly version of your mesh. It takes more time to do this versus making a highpoly mesh but I think the payoff is worth it to make good quality cc that everyone can enjoy :) (Also, another benefit is you won’t have to spend so long waiting for sims4studio to import your mesh) If you would like some tips on how to do this or have questions from that tutorial feel free to message me anytime! I also have a discord server where you can get help with CC making. Again, I am not the best expert around but I might know enough to help you.

Here is another discussion on this topic that I think is a really good read if you are interested :)

TL;DR if you’re a creator who makes high polycount stuff, please put a disclaimer on your downloads. If you’re a downloader, be aware of what your own personal game and computer can handle.

#sims4cc #sims 4 cc #sims 4 custom content #s4cc #ts4cc #sims 4 clothes #ts4 #the sims 4

919 notes · View notes

blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Darling escaping - Mondstadt girls edition

Inspired by a request I got, will do edition for other characters in the future.

Starring: Amber, Eula, Jean, Lisa, Rosaria

Reader is gender neutral

CW: Yandere themes, confinement, drugging

Amber

It’s highly unlikely that Amber will confine you, but if it reaches that point, then she will try to be as understanding as possible. Being kidnapped is hard and stressful, it’s OK if you hit and yell at her, she gets you, you’re scared and anxious, she will let it slide.

The same goes for any failed escape attempts, Amber will maintain that sweet-saccharine-I-am-not-mad-at-you-please-stop-crying-and-screaming persona very well. She will be very mad of course, partially at you, mostly at herself.

She keeps you confined in the cottage in the middle of the forest - Amber, unlike you, has a vast experience of navigating among the wilderness, so she can almost always recapture you with ease, years spent tracking and hunting lending well in her search.

You will have to be quick and clever if you want to escape - you can’t dwell in one place for too long, nor can you leave any mark in hurry - Amber will use them to deduce your path and location.

You will also have to avoid major cities and settlements - Knights of Favonius have a good reputation and Amber is known for her upstanding nature, she can lie to locals that you’re dangerous escaped criminal or confused and troubled victim who wandered to far for their own good, and have you presented on the platter.

Once she drags you back, she will start to think about escape-proofing the cottage. She might also buy a chain, long enough to let you wander in most of the room. Don’t worry she’ll let you out, she just needs to install new sets of locks on every door in your house.

Eula

The day when she finally loses an internal battle and kidnaps you is the day when both you and Eula start to hate her intensely. Just like Amber, she also tries to be understanding, yet it’s hard. She can sometimes snap back or glare at you with that cold look, which will sink your already drowning sympathies even further.

Escape attempts will be met quite poorly, Eula understands that you’re terrified and stressed and don’t want to be anywhere near her, yet it hurts so badly she loses control. She will say a couple of very insidious and bitter things, as she drags you back, her hold on you a tad too forceful not to be painful.

You will most likely be confined in her mansion - Lawrences might be universally despised by all of Mondstadtians, yet they’re also filthy rich and people have a hard time saying no to shiny mora. You will be allowed to wander in a couple of rooms with all the necessities in your reach.

She won’t allow you to have any maids or servants though - her reputation is already low, and letting a third person in on this dangerous secret will definitely be her downfall.

That’s why she wastes no time when she sees rooms she kept you in empty. Eula will bolt out of the house, uncaring how she might look to others as her mind races, searching for your possible routes.

Your best bet is staying inside or close to major settlements. As it was said before, Mondstadtian despise Lawrences, and Eula isn’t an exception to that. She might be a respected Knight of Favonius, but if you act distressed enough others will question her motives and deter her from grabbing you back.

If you somehow happen to be in the wilderness it’s already over for you. Eula spends most of her time outside the city gates, she is very familiar with the terrains and forests, so she navigates them pretty well. No matter how fast or long you run, she will get you back.

Eula will act extra callous and cold after your failed escape, her heart aching at the fact that you were that desperate to be anywhere but with her.

Jean

Jean is far from being an intense yandere, she will confine you only if she believes that you can’t live comfortably by yourself.

One of the perks of being a highly respected acting grandmaster is that no one really questions her decisions. Even Diluc, who left and now despises the knights, acknowledges how responsible and hardworking she is.

She will convince others that you’re mentally unwell, that you need care and patient guidance to even function, and so she will pressure you into becoming her protege.

None of your words about Jean’s true nature will be taken seriously - acting grandmaster is a kind, hardworking and responsible leader, she does everything in the name of others’ well-being. How can you accuse Jean of something like this?

Moreover, your words will be used against you, as she will present them as a proof of your fragile mental state - you must be deeply delusional to think of your caretaker so badly and poorly, blaming her for things she had no hand in.

You will be “gently” reminded to stay with Jean in her own house,a knight always patrolling near the building when she has work to do. Unlike most yanderes, Jean will allow you to freely wander in the house and courtyard, yet nothing more.

If you escape, you should probably head to the next nation, without stopping in any of the Mondstadt settlements - Jean’s reach is far and wide.

She will dispatch the group of knights, ordering them to safely retrieve you back into her arms - “[First] is scared and confused”, she’ll tiredly sigh and ask them to be gentle with you upon your recapture.

She won’t punish you once you’re back, no she will be calm and collected, despite the inner storm - she has to keep the mask up, both for you and others. You will find two knights on the daily patrol though.

Lisa

Lisa can appear very lazy and careless at first glance, but she is far from that. The witch is the best graduate of Sumeru academy in two centuries and an expert at potion making. She’s also very good at her time management and has a spark of ingenuity, which makes your escape highly unlikely.

First of all, you will be pumped full of sedative drugs, if you aren’t compliant and broken enough - Lisa would like to think that you’re all nice and obedient, but she can’t.

She will slip drugs in your food and water, sometimes she will force the syringe needle under your skin, if you realize what she’s doing and start being difficult.

With the substances muddling your mind you will be as helpless and weak as a newborn kitten, unable to make three steps in a straight line.

With you being constantly high Lisa doesn’t have to stress over your escape - she just needs to lock all windows and doors and add a bit of silencing charms so no one can hear your angered screams.

It would be an incredibly simple, yet perfect plan if it wasn’t for drug resistance. Over time your body will start to adapt to the influence of her “potions”, and you will need a higher dose to be rendered helpless and incoherent again.

You will realize this once the terrible mix of withdrawal and clarity of mind hits you. Half-bent and squirming you will slip from your cell and start to run.

It’s highly unlikely you will go far, especially during withdrawal, but your best chance of escaping lies into contacting any human settlement - you will appear very sick and distressed and they’ll have no choice but take you in and let you endure the incoming torture under the safety of the house.

Once your body is clean, you should run, as far as possible, you should also change your clothes - Lisa marked the ones she kept you in with her electro energy, making you easier to detect.

If she gets you back, she’ll start switching between different kinds of sedatives, so you don’t develop resistance. Lisa will also add a couple of locks and a long chain to her purchases.

Rosaria

Rosaria, to her own dismay, doesn’t own any fancy mansion to keep you in, the house that she lives in is small and cramped as she uses the place to just sleep and keep the little of what she owns here.

This house, despite its small size, has a cellar - it’s empty and unused, with cobwebs decorating the corners. It’s perfect for keeping you in, when you’re difficult.

Don’t worry the cellar is the last resort - Rosaria will confide you here, if you act extra defiant and disobedient. On most days, you’re free to wander in that small house, and if you act extra nice, the nun will let you out under her strict supervision.

She will however, install a long chain and cuff it around your leg when she has to leave for a job.

You can run away from her in two instances, when she decides to go for a short walk with you, and when she is away, if you are able to unscrew or loosen the chain enough for your feet to slip.

If you escape during your walk, you better be an excellent runner, because Rosaria is fast. You will have to compete not only in speed, but also endurance and stamina with her, because Rosaria can run for a very long time, especially when she’s chasing you.

If you escape when she’s away your task gets infinitely easier, you’ll just need to make your way to Mondstadt and make your accusations - Rosaria isn’t very popular here, nor does she have a great image, so your words will hold some weight.

Whether she is found guilty or innocent, it will provide enough time for you to leave the city and head for the neighbouring nation.

If Rosaria gets you back, then you can forget about seeing a sunlight for a very long time, she will keep you chained in the cellar for at least two weeks as a punishment.

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere Amber #Yandere Eula #Yandere Rosaria #Yandere Lisa #Yandere Jean #Yandere Amber x reader #Yandere Eula x reader #Yandere Jean x reader #Yandere Lisa x reader #Yandere Rosaria x reader #Female yandere #Female yandere x reader #Yandere x reader #Yandere

478 notes · View notes