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fatallyfalling · 6 months

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Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

@justtrying2getby

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flufftober · 11 months

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🍂 🍃 Hello and welcome to our third annual Flufftober 🍂 🍃

We’re so excited to be back and to once again have you here!

As always, let’s fill the month of October with as much fluff as possible 🥰 and for that to happen, we not only have 31 prompts for you, no; we also have something special this year...

Prompt Extras

Last year's Prompt Substitutes were very well-loved and a lot of you used them to replace some prompts from the original list. You're more than welcome to do this again if there's a prompt that doesn't work for you for whatever reason - no explanation needed.

Once again, we offer you last year's top five fan favorites (as voted in the end survey). In addition to that, we also offer five scenario prompts.

If you don't want to replace any prompt from the original list but still love the additional ones - or you simply want to challenge yourself - you can also mix them all together!

So in whichever way you use these Prompt Extras, have fun with them and go wild 💚

Below the cut you'll find all our rules, posting info, all the prompts in writing, as well as some explanation for prompts we feel might need clarification. If you have any more questions, please feel free to send us an ask 🥰

We hope you like these prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

Standard Blog Rules & FAQ

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged. See further down for clarification.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gifsets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…)

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉

You can start writing and/or arting as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

You can replace prompts from the original list with either or all of our prompt extras; you can also mix them with the original prompts or create for them in addition to the 31 original prompts, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts as long as it’s separated into chapters and the respective chapter/work is posted on the given day.

You do not have to stick to one ship or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Since this has often been asked in previous years, please let us clarify the no inc*st or p*dophilia rule:

No inc*st: This rule does not apply to distant cousins and such, as you might find in the LotR fandom (or basically in all of European Monarchy). The line we draw is at direct blood relations (siblings, parents, kids) and/or legal guardianship.

No p*dophilia: This rule does not rule out fandoms that feature teenagers such as Harry Potter, Heartstoppers, Hunger Games, etc. It also doesn't mean you can't write about their time together as teenagers! It was mostly aimed at ships in which one is a minor and the other is not - but since even that got complicated over time, the rule is now this: if you keep it SFW, all is good and allowed, we don't care; if it turns NSFW, be mindful of the legalaties of the world/society/times your characters live in.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2023

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also add @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2023 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt extra tag it as #alt [number]

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection flufftober2023 or flufftober_2023 (yes, we've once again claimed both)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like always, reblogs will become less regular the more months have passed...

Prompts (and explanations)

1. “I’ve got you”

2. Family, Friends, Loved Ones

3. “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

4. Cinderella Moment (the "ugly duckling" gets their moment to shine)

5. x + 1 (can be a classic "5+1 things" [or any number you want] creation or literally a plus one for an event or really anything else you can think of)

6. Corn Maze

7. Porch Swing

8. Rainy Day

9. (...) at first sight (think "love at first sight", "enemies at first sight"...)

10. Love of my Life (even this does not have to be romantic 😉)

11. Sweet Tooth

12. Fire & Ice

13. Wrong (...) (think "wrong number", "wrong train", "wrong person"...)

14. “I hate it” - “No, you don't”

15. Emergency, Confession, Adventure

16. Singing one another to sleep

17. Encouraging someone to achieve a goal

18. “Did you plan for this to happen?”

19. Keeping someone safe

20. Pumpkin

21. Swoon

22. Picking (think "picking flowers", "picking up someone", "picking out a dress", "picking a song for the wedding"...)

23. Trinket

24. [melting emoji] (does anyone even know what this emoji stands for? No? We neither but we would love for you to get creative with it 😉 but also, think "melting in the heat", "melting from embarrassment"... also, I would've loved to add it here but tumblr doesn't have this emoji yet)

25. Nook

26. Fireplace

27. Outdoor Event (think "hiking tour", "concert", "picnic"...)

28. Soothing Touch

29. “Hey, wake up!”

30. Self-Worth / Self-Love

31. Dreams Do Come True

Prompt Extras

Last Year's Favorites

Alt 1: Hot Chocolate

Alt 2: “You’ve told your parents?”

Alt 3: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes

Alt 4: Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights

Alt 5: “Oh no, you’re a Morning Person!”

Scenarios

Alt 6: Reverse all the Roles

Alt 7: Create a Fairytale Retelling

Alt 8: Give your character a new occupation

Alt 9: Create a crossover of two or more fandoms

Alt 10: Have your characters share the last table at a café

2K notes · View notes

lewkwoodnco · 2 months

Note

Can I make you a request about Anthony Lockwood based on the song “So American” by Olivia Rodrigo🥺😭

so american! - Lockwood x Reader

when he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so american oh god it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much I’d go anywhere he goes when he says I’m so american oh god I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up i might just be in la la la la la la la la la love

a/n: this fic has been rattling around in my head for a couple of weeks now and I was soooo double minded abt writing it so THANK YOU for the ask!!!!!! might not have written it otherwise heheh also I’m sooo proud of how my gifs turned out it was so fun to colour them all guts themed 😍😍 I hope you enjoy!! <333 also im having issues w the keep reading button AGAIN so sorry :(((

warnings/tropes: lockwood and reader are already in an established relationship, fluffy fluff, veeerrry small sprinkling of angst but happy ending! domestic sweetness

word count: 3.3k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

“Ready?”

Lockwood ducked into the car's passenger seat, grinning at the sight of her comically desperate expression. George and Lucy were fussing in the backseat, mainly because of Lucy’s seatbelt, or lack thereof, and they didn't seem to notice his arrival.

“Just wear the fucking seatbelt.”

"I'll be fine, George."

"She got her license at 16. 16! They just let anyone drive all willy-nilly up and down the roads in America."

Lucy gave him a look. He finally gave up and tugged at his own seatbelt sceptically, muttering darkly under his breath.

Lockwood & Co. was much more than a psychical investigation agency. Outside of their working hours, each member liked to work on some kind of passion project. After not having driven for over a year since she got her driving license in the States, she had decided to apply for one in London. Luckily, her employer had gallantly offered to provide her with the lessons she badly needed, having been the first of the three to earn his license. Well, employer and boyfriend.

Her mother could hardly believe the news and, frankly, so could she. In a lot of ways, having an English boyfriend was vastly different from having an American one. First, there was a slight communication barrier, given how terrible she was with accents. Then there were the differing preferences - Lockwood seemed forever ready for a cuppa at any time of day, whereas the only kind of tea she really enjoyed was iced tea. Still, these differences left gaps for lingering gazes and silences that stretched on a little too much, and somewhere in between she slipped her hand into his, and the rest was history.

Lockwood turned away to buckle his seatbelt.

"Okay, your seatbelt on?"

"Yes."

"Ready to go?"

"Hang on," came George's peeved voice from behind them, "you're not going to brief her first?" The two of them stared at each other blankly.

"Uh, Y/N, do you remember how to drive?"

"Sure." It was one of those things you never forget, like riding a bicycle. Sure, it had been a while, but how hard could it truly be?

"Brilliant. Now-"

George pulled himself forward between the two front seats, straining against his seatbelt. “We don’t drive on the right side here. We drive on the left side of the road. Left. Left.”

She glanced at her rearview mirror which outlined the line of cars behind them parked on the left side of the street.

“No. You don’t say.”

Lockwood coughed, poorly concealing his laugh as he craned his neck towards the backseat windows. "Right, all clear. I think we can move of-"

"Parking brake."

"Er, right, what George said. Disable the parking brake first."

“I’ve never driven with a parking brake before.”

“So you push in this metal bit, like so,” said Lockwood, gently manoeuvring her fingers into the right grip, “and then pull it up a little, and then bring it all the way down.”

She tugged at it in frustration. “I -it’s not working.”

“Lockwood, did you tell her to step on the “

“Step-on-the-brake-while-doing-that-yes I was just about to say, George. I think I know how to teach someone how to drive. Unless you’d like to take over?”

"Oh, please. You couldn't pay me to sit in the front seat with that maniac driving."

She got her parking brake down, checked her mirrors, and they were off. For a minute there it was quite enjoyable, trundling through the mostly empty backstreets of London. Lockwood even tried to prop his feet on the dashboard before getting badly told off by George. He was forever propping his feet up at the slightest chance - at the Archives, at home, and now here. Maybe it was all part of some innate desire to be a wheelbarrow.

And so, things were going perfectly rosy, until she faced her first real challenge - oncoming traffic. As soon as the car heading towards them came into plain enough view, the four of them went into hysterics. The road was just narrow enough to make overtaking a little too tricky for her abilities at the moment.

“What do I do? WHY isn’t he slowing down?”

“Don’t panic, it’s alright. Stop a little to the side.”

She cursed, fumbling for the brake pedal her foot had carelessly slipped off of. Lockwood was nervously watching the car get closer and closer to them.

“Now would be a good time to stop, Y/N. Brake! BRAKE!”

They shot ahead sharply, swerving right sharply, narrowly missing the car passing them. Lucy swore loudly and George gripped the car grab handle above him as he started scolding no one in particular.

"NOT THE BRAKE!”

Lockwood gripped the steering wheel over her hands, frantically trying to steer them to safety. With some difficulty, she shifted her foot back to the right pedal and slammed the brakes. There was a bit of a scuffle in the backseat, including George going off on Lucy in a very ‘I-told-you-so’ tone.

At the front of the car, Lockwood and she were still frozen, reeling from the past very exciting 30 seconds. Her eyes settled to where his hands were still resting on hers, tightly pinning her fingers to the steering wheel.

“Your hands are so warm.”

He peeled them off almost instantly, and she was sorry she brought it up in the first place. “Yeah, well, they’re panicking, just like the rest of me. What the bloody hell was that? I thought you said you knew how to drive!”

“I do know how to drive.” She bit back a smile at the sight of her 180 cm tall boyfriend trying to catch his breath with his hand dramatically splayed across his chest, muttering something about Americans handing out licenses to just about anyone.

The drive back to the rental car agency was much less eventful. After returning the car, they trudged back up the road to Portland Row. As they hung their coats up, she met his thoughtful gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He drew in a breath and hesitated. “You look nice.”

“Is this some convoluted way of patting yourself on the back for your fashion choices?”

“So you agree? You think you look nice?”

She groaned. She should have known no good was going to come from showing Lockwood Mean Girls. Still, it was hard to stay mad for long at a face like that. "You’re such a nuisance. A…delightful one, arguably, but still a nuisance.”

"You find me delightful?"

"That's your takeaway?”

"Next thing I know you’ll be saying you fancy me.”

“I’m literally wearing your shirt right now.”

“Luce!” He turned and started down the hallway. “Y/N says I’m delightful!”

As usual, the four of them reconvened in the kitchen a little after lunch for a tea break. Well, the four of them minus Lockwood, who had been bullied into fixing a plumbing issue in the basement. They sipped their tea and chewed their biscuits in silence. She wished she could bring down a little for Lockwood.

“Maybe I should go see if he needs some help.”

“No!” George nearly upset his tea, which made Lucy choke on her biscuit. “ Don’t go down there. You’ll distract him, he won’t get shit done, and that’ll be one more week without hot water for me.”

So she sat back down sulkily, brooding over her tea, until another topic of conversation struck her.

“Speaking of Lockwood -“

“- no one’s mentioned Lockwood-“

“-did you guys see the socks he was wearing today?”

Lucy and George didn’t even try to muffle their groans.

“They were very nice socks! They had the most precious pattern of baby ducks against a darling blue backgr-“

She stopped short as Lucy reached across the table to grip her hand.

“Y/N, I say this with love, but if I have to hear one more word about Lockwood, or his stupid bloody socks, I am going to ram a fork into my eye.”

She blinked, confused, and scoffed. “Gosh, you guys are so overdramatic. I don’t talk about him that much.”

George and Lucy exchanged a look.

“Okay, so maybe I like my boyfriend and I enjoy talking about him. Is that really so bad?”

Lockwood rescued all of them from the siege of George’s response by walking in right then, holding a wrench and looking a little worse for wear, but appeared very pleased with himself.

“Fixed!”

“Finally.”

Lucy frowned at the clock above the stove. “Isn’t that client meeting at Tooting today?”

Lockwood’s smile slipped right off as he glanced at his watch and rushed out of the kitchen, muttering furiously. His simple black leather watch which complemented his wrist so perfectly-

“Y/N! Time to leave!”

Maybe George and Lucy had a point.

Once their client meeting had finished, she and Lockwood stood on the pavement outside the house, looking for cabs to flag down. It was a balmy evening, and a cloudless sky meant they could enjoy the warmth of the setting sun beating down on them. She squinted down the road while Lockwood pulled something out from his coat pocket.

“For a job well done this morning and at the meeting…” he revealed two pieces of tightly wrapped square candies sitting on his palm. “A little treat.”

She stared at the candy for a moment, thinking hard.

“Caramel! I just remembered.”

“…what?”

“That’s what we call it in the States. A caramel.”

“It’s made of caramel, sure-“

“Plural is caramels.”

He made a strangled sound from the back of his throat. “Changing an uncountable noun into a countable one? That’s just lazy.”

“Fine. What do you call it?”

“Toffee.” The vowels rolled off his tongue like silk in that English accent that had made it difficult to fully concentrate from day one. Standing next to him, watching him gently and methodically unfolding the golden wrapper, shining and glinting like a beacon of light…maybe this was all she needed to be happy.

“Taw-fee?”

He pulled a face at her exaggerated American drawl, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as he pried apart the stuck halves of the toffee. She watched him visibly relax as the first tangy notes hit his tongue, her own half close to melting in her palm under the brunt of the setting sun. He met her gaze and gave a faint smile, almost reflexively covering her hand with his own.

“God, you’re so American. So, which is it? Toffee or caramel?”

She bites into what's left of the soft treat she's scraped off her palm. It's warm and comforting and she instantly feels a little more happy. Maybe it's the candy, or maybe it's the boy whose side is pressed into hers. Love, she decides. It's love.

“How many cups of tea have you had today?”

As idyllic as the weekend had been, they were back to their usual busy routine which meant that their evening tea break was the first time they’d see each other since breakfast. She had just walked into the kitchen where Lockwood was seated at the kitchen table, pouring over a mess of papers with a cup of tea to the side. One of the first things she had learnt about Lockwood was his near-debilitating addiction to tea. Now, he silently took a sip from his mug and she gave an exaggerated sigh, settling into the opposite end of the table.

“You really drink too much caffeine.”

He quirked his lips into a lopsided half-smile -/ he peered at the papers she had spilled onto the table. “What’s all…” he gestured to her papers with his mug, “…that?”

“The Rotwell agents give me hell for my American accent when they’re on duty at DEPRAC.” She held up her list of words dolefully. “‘Least I can do is pronounce things right.”

He slid into the chair next to her, taking a look at the list. “Which one are you at?”

“Pri-vacy. Pri...vacy. Nope, can't do it.”

“Of course it sounds weird when you say it like that. Try using it in a sentence.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. If I have to say ‘pri-vacy’ one more time, I’m running you through with my rapier."

Lockwood choked on his tea.

"...or, you know...'pry-vacy' sounds perfectly fine."

She gave him a brief smile. “Anyway, I’ve got to do a Satchell’s run now. Lucy says we’re out of flares. Don’t wait up for me.”

It took her a decent amount of time to collect all the supplies they were out of stock on, yet when she returned Lockwood was still sitting in that same chair, staring at the same papers with worn-out eyes, distractedly tugging at his hair. He barely looked up when she walked in, mystified.

“You’re still up?”

He rubbed his face firmly. “I can’t…I can’t figure this out.” She took a closer look at the papers. There were reports dating back two centuries on the house of one of their upcoming cases.

“The investigation is tomorrow and I have no idea what or where the Source could be.”

“Well…maybe George’s figured it out.”

“If he did, he’d be home by now.” He hunched over the papers once again, his head swaying dangerously close to the table, and she was instantly reminded of how exhausted Lockwood had looked that morning. As if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. She started stacking some papers together.

“It’s getting late. We should head to bed.”

“But I’m not done yet.”

“You can continue in the morning, but right now, you need to rest.”

His features hardened like he was ready to start a fight, but it lasted all of half a second before they caved to exhaustion. He looked like a drenched cat left out in the rain, with his hair messed up and in disarray.

“George is still at the Archives. What kind of a boss would I be to go to bed now? What kind of a…friend?”

Lockwood leaned back in his chair, briefly pressing a hand to his eyes and then his forehead, his forearm trembling ever so slightly. In the dim light of the kitchen, he seemed more skeleton than Man with his malnourished pallor and the scar on his lip being carefully outlined by a shadow. She ran a hand through his hair, down his neck, all the way to his shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re human, too.”

He gave a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll come in a while.”

“Promise?”

He gave a jerky nod. The tea in his mug had gone stone cold by then, and so she brewed him a fresh cup. He looked up, confused, as she placed it next to his papers.

“What about the caffeine?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and combed down the hair sticking up all haywire, as if she hadn’t heard him. “What about it?”

He smiled faintly and gave the hand on his shoulder a light squeeze, and returned to his work with his eyes humming with a little more energy.

Later that night, she dreamt that he was falling, and she was losing her mind trying to save him.

She should have known nothing was going to right in the job from the very beginning. None of them had been able to find much information on the house, and they were running late, so tempers were running very high. Even during the case itself, they were forced to split up and fumble through improvised plans. That was until she had stumbled onto Lockwood frozen at the basement door, looking down into the darkness in a strange way.

Go back, he had said. I don’t know what any of us can expect in this place. So I’ll come with you, she had replied. Or let’s wait for George or Lucy. I can’t. Why not? It’s different. I don’t have the time to explain it. Different how?

You’re more important.

The look on his face was more foreign than the house itself.

Now they were home, back at Portland Row. Lucy and George had sensed something was off and retired to their rooms. Lockwood headed towards the kitchen, and she followed him. He hadn’t spoken a word since her face had blanched at the sight of him poised at the basement’s entrance. She tugged at the ends of her hair. She could feel an argument brewing and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Are you okay?”

Lockwood continued rummaging through the refrigerator for his routine drink of orange juice, taking his time to reply. “Don’t I look okay?”

“Yes. No.” He was terribly confusing. “Why did you say you weren’t important?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you were less important.”

He finally twisted the cap off the carton with his trembling fingers. The case had shaken all of them up, but for some reason, he was trying to hide it.

“Well…it’s not not true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I’m a figurehead, Y/N. I represent the agency, that’s my name on the plaque out there, but that’s about it. You, Lucy, George…you’re the soul of the agency.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If…heaven forbid, something were to happen to one of us…”

Oh, he was so aggravating. She massaged her temples. She was going to punch him soon if she wasn’t careful.

“…the lot of you’d be better off without me than anyone else, and-“

"Oh god, shut up already!"

Lockwood abandoned the carton and straightened, and they glared at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen. “Or what? You'll shoot me?"

His expression softened only marginally when he saw how close she was to tears. She shook her head.

"If you pull another stunt like this...I might just have to marry you.”

“I’d have to marry you so that you can look down at your bloody hand and remember that there are people out there who would be nothing without you.”

“Y/-“

“Shame on you, Anthony J. Lockwood. Do you think George wouldn’t care about losing his best friend? Or Lucy? Or me? Hm?”

The tears had started to trickle down her face, and he walked towards her with a sympathetic expression, any and all rage long forgotten, and offered her his handkerchief. She could barely manage a weak glare before caving and accepting it, wiping away at her face. As soon as she was done, she wrapped her arms around him, and he enveloped her in a warm hug that smelled faintly of vanilla.

“That was a…a terrible thing to say, Anthony.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty shitty job then. I’m worried about you every day.”

She felt rather than saw his smile, though he could perfectly picture it in her mind - uneven and tipped to the right, but perfectly sincere.

"Also, I'm pretty sure that shooting remark counts as xenophobia."

"Yes, I'm hugging you very xenophobically now."

She buried her face into his chest and scrunched her nose hard. It was moments like these that only cemented her faith that she was never going to find somebody who made her feel the way Lockwood did. Seeing him standing outside the basement, she didn’t even need to think about what to do next. It had become incredibly instinctual - her readiness to take his hand and hurtle into the latest oblivion, blind as a bat. It didn’t get more simple than this: she just wanted to be wherever he was.

It was him and her, and her and him - Portland Row’s cripplingly disaster couple, Mr A.J. Lockwood and Miss Americana.

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #olivia rodrigo #guts spilled #so american #songfic

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armins-main-hoe · 8 months

Note

HI HELLO!!! I would like 2 request some haikyuu! Manager fluffy headcanons please??? Some of the fem! reader being chubby and popular, it can be either platonic or romantic! I also love your writing ✍️ have a good day/night 💗💗

Hello! That is honestly such a cute request and I have a few ideas for it hehehe

I’m going to do this for Karasuno and Nekoma, if you would like other teams, send in a request again saying which ones you want.

(For those who have sent in requests, don't worry, I'm getting round to writing them all up)

“Nah, I think she’s perfect the way she is”

Karasuno

In all honesty, you were really into music and you wanted to sign up for a music club, so when you found yourself standing in the gym, you couldn’t have felt any more out of place.

It seems there was a bit of a mix up with the sign up sheets and you ended up becoming the manager for the boy’s volleyball team.

You don’t know shit about volleyball.

You talked with the teachers and they said it may take some time for them to go through the sign up sheets and find an empty spot in the music club for you to switch into.

So for now, it seems like you're stuck being the boy's volleyball manager.

On your first day, you were very confused about what exactly you should be doing. I mean the team already has a coach and an qualified teacher with them, what can a student manager do?

So you just sat around, watching the boys practice while the coach yells at them. You weren't going to lie, you got a little bored...

Next few days, you would do the same thing, you even used the time to get homework done, since you thought you'd rather do something than do nothing.

You won't lie to yourself, you weren't popular, or that's what you thought, just known by everyone because of how you looked. You knew you weighed more than the other girls in your class, it didn't bother you all that much and you did always try to see the better side of things.

But that doesn't mean that everyone else thought the same.

You were eating lunch with your friends in the school courtyard when a student walking by with his friends yelled out names at you like "piggy", "diabeto" and "fat cow". You didn't really take words like that to heart, they never were all that creative with the name calling.

However, before you or your friends could say anything, a boy from the volleyball team (you pick who) came and stood up for you.

You watched as he stood in front of you and started yelling back at the boy who was name calling you. "I think she's perfect the way she is!"

As you watched him, you couldn't help but wonder "had he always been this good looking? I hadn't noticed before...."

Funny how now you suddenly feel motivated to actually look into volleyball.

So next time there was a practice, you came prepared. You did your research, you learned the basic rules of volleyball and asked other sport manager's what they do.

The boys were surprised to see you suddenly interested since you usually sat in a corner dong homework.

"The teachers are taking forever with sorting the mess up, I didn't think I'd actually be here for here for this long. But since I am, I might as well help out." You shrugged when they questioned it. It wasn't a lie completely but it wasn't the only reason.

You glanced over to the boy who stood up for you the other day before quickly looking away again, he was smiling at you.

As the weeks passed, you began to pick up more and more about volleyball. It wasn't long before you memorized the positions and each player's weakness and strength.

The other boys were quick to notice your little crush and thought that it was probably why you decided to stick around, but later they began to feel like you genuinely enjoying being manager as well. You weren't a bad manager either, you helped everyone equally and the team as a whole.

Nishinoya was little shit though, you were kind and nice to everyone but with him, you're patience wore down thin.

You did get an offer to change clubs and go do the music club you wanted, you thought of going to both volleyball and music but the timings clashed often so you had no choice but to pick.

Volleyball or music?

Oh well, you can practice music at home and the weekends, it's not like you can see your crush at home or the weekends, right?

You kinda knew making decisions based off of a boy wasn't really good for you but even if you wouldn't admit it, you kinda liked playing manager.

You actually found it fun.

When you told the boys that you were staying as their manager, you were taken back by their cheer.

"We were worried that you'd leave us when you get the chance to join the music cub" Hinata said.

"Sure, we didn't get off too well in the beginning but we like having you around now" Suga smiled at you.

The others nodded their head and in that moment, you felt immense happiness wash over you, your face felt a little hot from the praise and you felt a little embarrassed.

"Thanks guys, I promise to get better at being a manager too. I still have a lot to learn."

At the end of practice, you were helping clean up along with your not so secret crush.

"You know Y/N, I hope you don't mind what the others say about you."

You look at him. "Say what?"

"About your looks. It doesn't matter what a person looks like as long as they are happy and healthy." He says, looking at you with a sincere expression.

"Oh that, don't worry, I'm basically immune to those childish name callings, but thank you anyway for looking out for me" You smiled at him.

As you both continued to talk, you didn't see the rest of the boys spying on you both through the windows, silently cheering you and your crush on. They all are VERY supportive of you both, even though they all suck ass at being cupid.

Nekoma

No one and I mean no one has ever thought of bad mouthing you.

You quite literally were the sweetest girl in the whole school, always having pure intentions. No one could ever hate you, you got along with everyone.

You heard the volleyball club was looking for a manager for a while now with no luck so you decided to give it a go.

"hello I'm-"

"Y/N!" A few of them called out, running over to you. You recognised nearly all of the members, you had spoken to them at some point during your time as school, even the ones that were not in your year. You knew the basics of volleyball since the school sometimes made you do that in your Physical Education class.

Yamamoto was all over the place, he could basically explode with how much joy he felt. His team finally got a manager. He was so going to boast about it to his friends outside of school.

What amazed you was how seriously the boys took the sport, you weren't all that much into sports or anything really, you struggled to find something to actually be that passionate about that could lead into a future career.

So you weren't able to understand but respected their dedication and efforts nonetheless.

You were really good and hyping the boys up and giving them motivation when they needed it, some of them became very fond of you.

Kenma would sometimes try to hide behind you whenever Kuroo would be scolding him, you would give kuroo a sweet smile and lie to his face saying "I haven't seen Kenma all day!"

Whenever lev would to the same, it wouldn't work out the same but you found it enduring still. You would let out a laugh before acting like insanely tall guy was actually able to hide perfectly behind you.

Yaku would often tut at you for playing along, saying that lev needs to learn but you keep taking the seriousness out of it.

"But he has gotten better though, hasn't he?" you would say back.

"Not enough!" yaku would reply back before huffing away.

Though despite you being all smiles and sunshines most of the time, you did have moments where you would get a bit serious.

During tournaments specifically, the boys were good, really good even but so were other teams.

When you get nervous you would become quite and have a serious frown on your face.

Kinda scared the boys a bit ngl-

lev would laugh tho.

Maybe kuroo too.

They find it cute more than scary okay?

You would give them a pep talk before their very first game, promising to buy them all ice cream if they come first place.

Though no one at your school has ever badmouthed you, that doesn't mean people from other schools wouldn't.

Since you were on the chubby side, you were prone to some bullying when you were younger, though in middle school it died down a lot. The boys never saw you differently because of your weight though, you were sweet and a really good manager to them so why wouldn't they adore you?

So when they would overhear people from other schools making fun of you just because of something as little as your weight, they didn't take it that lightly.

They would only stop yelling threats and curse words when their next match is about to start or the "bad mouther" runs away. Kuroo once nearly got a bit physical too.

You would then tell them to ignore that when it happens since there is not use wasting breath over people like that, it's not like you take what they say to heart anyway... well most of the time anyway.

But like always. the team refused to ever ignore anyone making fun of you.

It's almost like you have a bunch of protective brothers, they sometimes tease you but no one else can.

I do hope you like it! Let me know if you want more :)

#haikyuu manager #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haiykuu #haikyuu #nekoma manager #nekoma x reader #nekoma #karasuno x reader #karasuno headcanons #karasuno manager

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neotriobrainrot-reborn · 1 month

Note

Hia~ this is Jane speaking.

I've decided the Phoenica time loop is a fun idea,so please share what you've thought of so far it's fun to see what other people thought of.

Of course if your okay with me writing it.

Yeah sure, go nuts! I might write about it when I can, but it’s also fun to see how others carry out the idea! Thankfully, apparently all I needed was to sleep on it to brainstorm more about the idea.

PRISON OF PLASTIC SPOILERS BELOW

The premise is that in the middle of chapter 7, Phoenica sneaks away to follow Molly as she confronts Lorelai. Before Lorelai can send Molly to the dumbwaiter, Phoenica intervenes and argues with Lorelai. That only fuels Lorelai’s already boiling anger, which leads to her firing a blast with all of her rage aimed at Phoenica. Molly tries to protect Phoenica by dumbing down the attack, but it pierces straight through her defenses, does some harm to Molly, and hits Phoenica square in the heart, killing her.

Moments later before Lorelai gets a chance to undo her mistake, Phoenica dies

…Kind of?

Upon Phoenica’s own death, the entire day resets to when she wakes up, only with one key difference:

A Rabbit summon is standing where her alarm clock should be.

The rabbit introduces itself to Phoenica as a being created from Lorelei’s magic and Phoenicia’s heart. While the rabbit itself doesn’t know much more than Phoenica does, it tells her that she’s looping the day. At first, Phoenica just thinks she unlocked her magical powers and tries to show her dad the summon, but it becomes apparent that only Phoenica can see them. The summon tells Phoenica to call it “Fluffy”.

She assumes (again) that the summon is just there to help her get accustomed to her powers. Eager to show others, she runs to the same alleyway she encountered the wolf. But because she comes by much sooner than the first time, Molly isn’t there to help her…

So Phoenica, for a second time, dies

She now gains some understanding that her power to rewind time activities when she dies. While dying was traumatic, she eagerly goes about her day for the third loop to meet up with Molly and Trixie full of joy about her new power…

not knowing that her newfound ability wasn’t a gift, but her new prison. A prison that would serve to break her.

*****

So that’s basically the premise. After playing “ISAT”, I became obsessed with yeeting Phoenica into a time-loop to watch the bapy go through existential horror. It died for a bit, but came back full force yesterday for me. Lorelai’s spell is causing the time-loop, but it wasn’t something she did on purpose. Her spell was filled by anger and her subconscious thoughts.

Some extra things I might include:

In one of the later loops after Trixie scares off the wolf, Phoenica doesn’t comfort them, zoning out completely until Molly pulls them both into a hug.

Molly in every loop notices that something is off with Feenie, but can’t precisely pinpoint it. She only subconsciously remembers the loops like Lorelai, but instead she will gain a massive sense of Deja-vu. Her subconscious memories will build off each other.

Lorelai doesn’t have any memories of the loops, but they do affect her subconsciously. Anytime she sees Phoenica, she gets a small feeling of guilt, but she doesn’t know why

During the fight where Graham’s tendril is meant to cut Molly’s check, Phoenica tries to get Molly out of the way, but accidentally ends up getting killed by the same tendril

Despite Naven not being aware of the loops, he always does something different in each one as soon as he sees Phoenica. She has no idea why this happens and it unnerves her

Every time Phoenica makes it to the final chapter, the world around her turns to ivory and before she can do anything, it loops back to the very beginning of the day

In one of the loops, Phoenica decides to begrudgingly accept Giovanni’s offer for villainy

Once the loop count starts getting to higher numbers, Phoenica distances herself from her friends. She already know so much about them that they don’t know, and she feels as though she’s manipulating them and treating them like NCPs.

In desperation, Phoenica tells Naven everything and begs for his help, anything to help her be free of this prison…only to hear the most terrifying words an adult can say: “I don’t know”

Fluffy convinces Phoenica to stay home in one loop to see what happens. The entire day goes on as it would in PoP, except faster. Upon learning this from a text from Trixie. Fluffy comes to the conclusion that Phoenica contributed nothing and even held the group back.

Sorry for giving you a full page of info lol. I might have more ideas, but I’m currently unsure of how I want to connect the existing ones or which ones I’ll get rid of. So for now, I’ll stop here, but I’ll probably post more about it

#epithet erased #phoenica fleecity #lorelai blyndeff #molly blyndeff #fungireborn.post #epithet spoilers #fungireborn.answers #trixie roughouse #trixie roughhouse #giovanni potage #naven nuknuk

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merakiui · 10 months

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hi mera!! this is my first ask but i hope it doesn’t get eaten, but before that i just want to say i enjoy your writing a lot, especially your azul writings???? and azul thought 2 was so good, that one got me on a tight octopus grip. i look forward to the sequel

i want to share this idea that got stuck in my head for days: nun!reader running an orphanage but it’s low on funds until one day rich businessman!azul makes a visits and donate a large sum of money

at first it seemed like azul did it out of generosity from the bottom of his heart and reader is incredibly grateful and indebted to him…but as it turns out he has other intentions

he’s deeply inlove with nun!reader but she’s a nun!! she can’t return his feelings sadly but azul finds a way… as he keeps donating more money to the orphanage and nun!reader has to make it up to him…with her body perhaps? like imagine they’re doing it an empty church after the kids of the orphanage go to bed

also it’s optional but imagine adding rollo to this scenario as the priest!!!

AAAAAAAAA YES YES OTL this is such a yummy concept omg!!!

You can't thank him enough! Oh, you're so grateful for his generous donation and you go on and on about how exciting this is. With these funds, you can buy more workbooks for the kids, replace the chalkboard, buy better ingredients for meals, replace some of the old bed frames, and more! Azul's a little annoyed with all of your never-ending prattling. Sure, it feeds his ego to see you bow your head over and over in thanks. But you could put your mouth to better use instead of just verbally expressing your thanks. >:( he's impatient and horny, but he smiles politely and tells you it's not a big deal. He loves to help those in need! Please come to him should you ever need any help.

You insist that he must come with you to meet the kids. He's a little unsure at first, but you're just so bright and bubbly and he decides he might as well accept your offer, if only to build rapport. Come the next day, he's knocking on the door to the little classroom and poking his head inside. The kids all adore him. They think Mr. Azul is the nicest, coolest guy they've ever met! They prepared drawings and wrote little thank you letters to express their gratitude, and he feels so fluffy inside when he notices how the kids flock to you when you tell them to give him some space. He watches the way you interact with them, so soft and sweet and motherly. It's not fair that you're a nun sworn to celibacy. What he wouldn't give to make you a mother...

Azul didn't think he'd become so fond of you so quickly, but every day spent with you is a blessing. You're just so perfect. Even the kids think so when he asks them about you. "What's Miss (Name) like?" he'll ask and the kids all say such nice things about you. Some of the girls giggle and gossip amongst themselves, eagerly theorizing if Mr. Azul is interested in you. It doesn't help that everyone calls you Mama in the orphanage; it really tests Azul's patience and restraint when the kids come running up to you and tugging on your habit to get you to play or to drag you to Azul because they found him shopping in town. Some of them try to pair the two of you together, setting up not-so-subtle dates under large trees in the courtyard. You find it charming and amusing; Azul thinks it would make for a nice reality.

But then his current reality, which is just as good (for now), is uprooted when Father Rollo comes to visit. Though he looks frigid and stern, he is very gentle when speaking to the kids. He reserves smiles for you and them, or so Azul has learned from observations. When he met Azul, he hesitated to shake his hand, looking at him as if he was a pest, before welcoming him to the orphanage and thanking him for his donation. Azul already dislikes Rollo. Most of all, he's jealous that the kids talk about you and Rollo as if you're a match made in heaven. What's so good about that father anyway! He looks as if he's crawled out of the grave, what with his dark circles and gloomy disposition. Azul, on the other hand, is handsome and put together and eloquent. So why do you seem to look at him as if he's the love of your life? It should be Azul you love, not Rollo! Azul would give you the entire world if you asked. He loves you! He's infatuated!

Maybe he'll just have to prove it to you before the eyes of the god you have so much faith in. :)

#twisted chit chat #also thank you so much for liking my writing especially azul thought 2!!!!! the sequel will definitely be exciting hehe

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3tabbiesandalab · 2 years

Text

Taraxacum

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Reader

Inspired by this from @wackapedia

https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_rd9h1c85CY1r5dod1.mp4

I might not be writing just for a little while so wanted to offer something to these peeps while I can.

@jostystyles is having a Bob Night. I know you’re taking prompts but I just wanted to make a little contribution if that’s ok. Prompt 31 - ‘Make a wish” off @zephyrine list you tagged.

AND

Also for @coyotesamachado who tagged me in tag game a few days ago. Thank you! Here’s a fluffy oneshot. Kind of best friends to lovers too.

I hope you enjoy!

And a part two since some lovelies asked for it! Part 2

For as long as he can remember, dandelions or Taraxacum, had always had a special place in Bob’s mind and heart. He knew they were not the most beautiful flower, common and technically a weed, but he liked that even though most people overlooked them, they served an essential purpose. They could grow anywhere, and symbolised hope, resilience, and the ability to overcome challenges.

The whole dandelion plant was edible, not that Bob ate them on the regular. You could sauté or use the greens in soups or salads, use the petals to flavour wine, tea and even roast the roots for vegan coffee or root beer. It was used in medicine and homemade yellow dye and as a companion plant in a vegetable garden.

Bees, other insects, and certain birds and butterflies needed dandelions for nectar and food so they could go about their daily roles. When the bright yellow flower was done, it dried up and stayed protected by the leaves and stems. Once it was ready, the dying greens fell away and revealed the white fluffy ball of seeds on a single stem. All it took was a breath of wind before they scattered into the air and started the whole cycle all over again.

Bob had always admired everything about the dandelion and thought the plant was a bit like him really. It was simple to look at but had complexity to it. It was useful and important and tough without having to command attention with its looks. And as young boy, the seeds drifting off into the wind also started his fascination with flying.

And of course, there were the wishes.

When he was younger, he’d always wish on a single dandelion or run through the dried clusters of them in the paddocks of his family’s property and watch as the cloud of white floated away on the breeze. And more often than not, YFN, the youngest daughter of one of the ranch hands, would be with him when he did.

Dandelions reminded him of her too.

Bob and YFN were complete opposites but as thick as thieves growing up. She had always been kind and sweet like him but was more outgoing and had a little rebellious streak that got him to come out of his shy, awkward shell.

“C’mon Robbie. Make a wish. Better be sure it’s good one!” YFN would happily say each time she held a dandelion to his lips to blow.

Bob wished for all kinds of things over the years. When he was smaller, he closed his eyes tightly and hoped for a new bike, the new calf to be healthy or warm chocolate chip cookies after school. When they were a bit older, Bob would wish for an A on his maths test, to fly planes when he was older, to have YFN as his girlfriend and for her daddy to get better.

Bob begged the seeds that floated in the air to save her daddy, many, many times. Most of his wishes over the years came true, but that particular one never worked. And in the end her mamma had no choice but to move YFN and her sister across the country to be closer to her family.

The last time Bob and YFN ever made a wish together, was the day she moved away. He was thirteen and in love with the girl who had the most beautiful eyes and cheeky crooked smile. And felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. They sat in the field amongst the dried dandelions for hours as the clock ticked down to her departure. Bob kissed YFN sweetly for the first time and they promised they would never forget each other.

As he blew masses of white fluff into the wind that day, Bob hoped for things that were never going to come true. YFN’s eyes were full of tears as she held the stem of their very last dandelion before she left to his lips and whispered sadly, “C’mon Robbie. Make a wish. Better be sure it’s good one.”

Bob wished to love her forever.

They tried to keep in touch, phone calls and letters but with time, distance, and separate lives they eventually grew apart. But Bob never forgot YFN and kept her in his heart and every time he saw a dandelion, he was reminded of her. If the flower was ready, he would bring it to his mouth and blow, silently hoping she was happy.

……

The ‘Dagger Squad’, as the specialised team of naval aviators Bob was apart of were affectionately known, were given a couple of days recovery after another tough assignment. They were having lunch and a drink together at the Hard Deck when the discussion randomly turned to tattoos. Bob had idea for the lifecycle of a dandelion and had been thinking about getting it done for a while, and his friends encouraged him to take the plunge.

Bob went on his laptop as soon as he got home and researched nearby tattoo parlours, looking for one that, in Hangman’s speak, wouldn’t leave him with a tramp stamp and a case of hepa-tities. He found a small shop, which had some great reviews about an hour away. It was called ‘Taraxacum’, and it instantly made Bob smile and think of YFN. He called them before he chickened out and got an appointment that evening just before the parlour closed.

As he waited alone in the reception area, Bob thought he would be nervous, but he was inexplicably calm. There was something that felt familiar about the shop, and a warm sense of déjà vu swept over him. He was drawn to a particular folder of artwork that was filled with various intricate sketches of a ranch, often with a pair of kids somewhere in the image. They seemed so intimate and personal and were captured with such attention to detail. They reminded him of home. As Bob flipped the page to the next drawing, he audibly gasped at what he saw.

In a patch of white, fluffy, dried up blooms, sat a young teenage boy, heartbroken eyes hidden behind wire rimmed glasses and a female hand that held a single dandelion to his lips.

Bob had no doubt that it was him, as he made that last wish with the girl he never forgot.

“Robbie.” A soft, sweet voice whispered his name in awe. Bob didn’t need to look up to know who it was, he knew it was YFN.

During their last day together, on that dandelion, he’d wished to love YFN forever. Bob lifted his head and gazed at those same beautiful eyes and cheeky crooked smile that he could never forget.

And he knew that his wish had come true.

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert 'bob' floyd #bob floyd #Bob top gun #bob floyd x reader #top gun #Top Gun fic #top gun maverick #lewis pullman

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dolletro · 1 year

Text

Exhaustion

Hello DMC tumblr! This is my first ever post on tumblr!

My native language is not english, plus I am not really sure how to write Vergils character, so he might be a little bit OOC. Despite that I did try my absolute best! Please of you have any suggestions how to polish my skills and create aesthetically more pleasing works, don’t hesitate to DM me! Constructive critisism is always welcomed!

I was debating wether I should post it or not, since I wasn’t sure if it’s good enough, then I though what if this is exactly the thing someone needs?

Anyways, please enjoy!

Word count: 1.5+K

He never meant to stay for this long in your room, all he wanted was to notify you about the training schedule change for the upcoming two days, but somehow your warm smell mixed with the vanilla scented air freshener pulled an unfamiliar kind of exhaustion out of him, so he sat down on your bed and welcomed your voice in. You talked a lot, he made a mental note in himself, about an hour into you talking about the game you were now playing, the frantic button smashing, the frustrated grunts from time to time and your cats nestled on his chest purring away, lulled him to sleep even more.

"...And that's why I like him so much! OH, that reminds me, he is also wielding a katana just like you-..." you turned around with an excited smile, the dim, pink tinted LED strips and your TV's light illuminating your features. Eyes filled with joy looking down at him, taking in his reaction. When did he lie down on your fluffy pillows?

"You know, if you are too tired to move you can always just sleep here, I don't mind it." with that the weight from the end of your bed disappeared signaling that you stood up. Now humming the same tune as the music that was coming from the game, you began to search for something in your closet, checking an item out for whatever reason and then putting it back. Vergil averted his gaze to the bright screen, that now burned his eyes out, he certainly now missed the way you blocked a good part of it. There stood the character with a katana in his hand, body covered from head to toe in what seemed to be metal, hair similar shade to his. He had a faint idea what you might have called this warrior, but to be fair Vergil hardly paid any attention to your rambling, yet some of those tiny details that stuck made the blue devil wonder, if you liked him mainly because he reminded you of some of your favorite game characters, or if you like those characters because they looked similar to him.

'How foolish...' Vergil blinked once, twice then he moved his arm up to cover his eyes to block out any light. Why would that be the reason? You two had known each other for just a few months now, if not a year. The age gap too was quite wide in anyone's opinion, maybe twenty years give or take, and you, as if you had known eachother since forever, talk to him about everything from anything mundane to more serious or even exciting topics. Even when he used to push you away you kept on trying to befriend and create a connection with him. Maybe your unwavering determination is what led to this moment, him allowing his guard to be down around you.

When was the last time he was this...content? Both before and after destroying the Qliphoth nightmares often plagued his consciousness whenever he tried to sleep, often about the atrocities he had done not only to RedGrave but to the world in general, so he never really bothered to try to rest up in years. Yet now, he felt like he was in a drunken daze, everything felt surreal, like life cannot be this peaceful.

"Vergil..." a gentle hand on his shoulder pulled out of his train of thoughts. There you stood,a black sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants in hands, offering them to him. "...I don't really know if these will fit you, but hopefully they will. You can use my bathroom if you want more privacy." and with that the warmth disappeared as you sat back down in front of your TV and continued to play your game.

Vergil slowly lifted himself up from your bed, trying to shoo the cats off of himself. While he knew you had seen him half naked once before due to an incident, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"It's okay to change here too. No need to push yourself too hard." The blue devil could have sworn you were reading his mind just now if he didn't know any better. You have to be some sort of witch to know this much about his way of thinking and to occupy his mind for this long. Reluctantly he took off his coat and vest, and laid them down on your night stand. He was in the middle of unbuckling his belt when he heard rustling beside him, then once again your frame was right in front of him near the closet. You had taken his clothes and put them on a hanger.

"You sleep with socks on? I have some really fluffy pairs that will warm your feet up since this room can get quite chilly."

"There's no need for you to lend me such unnecessary items."

"Hm? You wear your boots without socks?"

"That is not what I said nor implied."

"Mhm, sure boss man." your giggles were nice, it could melt off any tension that was ever in his body. "So...no socks?"

"No need..." he sighed as he slipped off his boots, then pants in haste. The material of the sweater was soft against his rougher fingers. There was no way that it belonged to you, it must have been gifted or something because it would've been far too big on you.

"I once bought that for Dante, then I realized it would go to waste since he just doesn't wear things like that, so I kept it for myself, but you can have it if you'd like!" you chimed, once again smashing away on your buttons. The music in the game picked up as a bossfight began. Vergil tried to climb back in your bed after he put on every article of clothing without disturbing you, yet when he was almost settled you groaned loudly and put your controller down beside you.

Silence began to set in. The only things that could be heard were the title screen of the game and your cats soft purrings as they inched closer to Vergil. The atmosphere was once again calming like the first time he sat down, but now he has a fresh set of clothes on and was buried under your two toned gray comforter, yet now somehow he felt an itch in his mind. When will you head to bed? He has only ever seen you in your pajamas when you showed up that one time in the kitchen at noon for a cup of coffee. Even then he just saw you briefly as he strolled by. Do you usually head to bed later into the earliest time of the day? Or do you ever sleep?

"Does the noise bother you?"

"No."

"Can I start a stream on youtube then? I can only sleep with some noise." Vergil stayed silent while he inspected as you scrolled through your YouTube recommendations to find an appropriate video. He was contemplating on what to say or rather ask you. He alway had been a man who spoke with well chosen words, and right now he didn't know if he thought he didn't care enough for your emotions to question you about the matter or if he didn't want to put you into an even more sour mood.

" Has something upset you?" he ultimately decided to ask, resulting in a surprised expression on your face when you faced him.

"It’s kinda-, Well…I died in the bossfight, and I really don't feel like playing anymore." setting down the remote, you stretched.

"I see." he began to pet your lighter cat, Tofu, who fell asleep on his chest. Distant water splashed and the warm bathroom light now seeped into the room from underneath your door, then you emerged. Vergil looked at your digital clock on your wall in the same sleepy daze as he was in before, noticing that you were gone for exactly ten minutes. His eyes followed your every movement taking in your elegant gestures. Your face now appeared to be glowing, and you smelled slightly different than you usually do. You sat down in front of your mirror checking out your own skin on your cheeks and chin, before you pulled a bottle of lotion out of your vanity cupboard. The scent alone was enough for the blue devil to realize this is what made you smell the way you always did. Vergil was no expert in these kinds of things, but for him it matched your personality perfectly. It had a slightly spicy base, but some sweet undertones. You massaged the substance on your arms and legs, giving extra attention to your knees and elbows.

Your voice traveled in his ears and stayed in his mind. He recognised this tune, you hummed every once in a while when you were in a peaceful place, this meant you were no longer upset about your loss in the videogame. This melody pushed and pushed the bad thought right out of his head and filled him with an unfamiliar warmth he never felt. Vergil knew he was just right about to succumb to the sleep he oh-so desperately needed, yet he took one more glance at your calm form, he wished he could feel this content once he woke up in your room.

Just about one and a half hours after arriving at your room to give you a heads up, the older son of Sprada welcomed the sweet slumber in.

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a-smol-cosplayer · 1 year

Text

Okay here is my master list of Wyler fic recs cause literally two people asked and I cannot control myself.

Psa I have probably read at least 70% of the fics on this tag in ao3 however these are my bestest/favourite ones. most of them are ongoing bc this fandom is hella new but still :) pls check ratings and tags before u read obvi. Also none of these fics are out to hurt u (as far as I’m aware) some of the longer ones might have angst but I’m here for relationship, plot and fluff rather than angst and pain (we go enough of that in the show). Some of the ongoing ones have updates every two/three days? Some haven’t updated since I have read them but most of them are under a week and a half old so I still have hope. There are ordered in shortest to longest in each category

alright enough chitter chatter, buckle ur seatbelts people here we go!!

Finished

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43546942

Ocean Blue Eyes, Looking In Mine (I Feel Like I Might, Sink And Drown And Die) - cute Wyler one shot where they are dating at nevermore, after season 1, {1,876 words}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43494253#main

Grocery shopping in c minor - alternate au grocery store, Tyler works there, love the fact that he’s still super sweet but slightly unhinged, characterisation on point, {3,759 words}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43386558/chapters/109065348

A Half Life - Tylers pov of the first ep or so, kinda angsty bc its Tyler and he’s struggling, but still nice, not sure if its technically Wyler but its got the vibes {4 chaters but only 4,272 words}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43332840

Yeah, all you did was smile (‘cause I’m a mastermind) - canon divergent but still similar story line, Tylers pov, love how they have chemistry, no hyde Tyler but still really good, {8,536 words}

In progress - y’all don’t understand, I religiously check these for updates every single day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43333995/chapters/108929727

What if… you helped me change? Basically what could have happened after the kiss in ep 7, minor kidnapping but we forgive him bc he was freaking out, no real ‘hyde Tyler’ more like ‘idk how this happened but I want to make it better Tyler’ {3 chapters, 3,592 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43353318/chapters/108979656

I never fell again - only really the set up so far, Wednesday comes back to school and finds that Tyler has come back and is enrolled in nevermore, she hates (misses) him so much, na they love each other {4 chapters 5,505 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43278591/chapters/108783186#workskin

On Wednesdays we dance - wednesday buys a laptop and enters a horror writing group, and yet, one prompt is about a date, and Tyler offers so that he can have real life experience, another wednesday style date which is so cute, I really love this fic its super fluffy and nice {2/3 chapters 5,733 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43470636/chapters/109282542#workskin

Perfect Match - READ THE TAGS (is rated T but really should be M/E) not much plot just wyler smut, and unholy use of the gates mansion, set after season 1 ends, also slightly off topic, but I like the hc that wednesday eats dried strawberries, idk why but I love it, anyways, read at ur own warning, {3/4 chapters finished 7,387 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43286737/chapters/108804511

Frump Family Curse - from ep 8 into post season 1, we get some obsessed wyler at the start, and then, build on each of the characters for upcoming chapters, shaping up to be a really good fic. Also surprise Gomez and Donovan friendship over there cute murder children, 100% support {4 chapters 9,111 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43354401/chapters/108982119

Woe to do with two soulmates - Wednesday has 2 soulmate marks (writing of their first words to her, I think we know where this is going👀) and doesn’t know which one she wants yet, deals with Wednesday and feelings and well and our adorable barista, some angst cause ew laurel but still really good, sort of plot twist?/something I didn’t expect but I’m glad it happened in chap 8 {9 chapters and 11,498 words and counting}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43284108/chapters/108797994

My unconquerable soul - wyler, mostly after season 1 in the break, tags!! And ratings!! Please!! They are psycho but psycho for each other, some light kidnapping, the hyde side of Tyler appears a little, some angst but mostly dark fluff {10 chapters, 12,749 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43482336/chapters/109313109

A Girl and her Monster Of Woe - post season 1, wednesday realising that she actually liked and missed him, in her own dark way obvi, setting up for them to meet again, sort of adresses how Tyler can stay and not be charged, yet again pls read rating and tags {7 chapters, 13,266 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43424209/chapters/109164106

Woeful - wednesday comes in wondering about Hydes and the cute barista seems to know an awful lot about them👀 basically, Tyler knows he’s a hyde, but!! He isn’t the one murdering people, developing some alternate plot line which seems really good so far, plus wednesday and Tyler being cute in the weathervane {7 chapters, 13,906 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43328175/chapters/108913881

She’s mine - I know I keep telling y’all to check ratings but I don’t want any ‘I didn’t realise’ complains, basically Tyler realised that he fucked up and wednesday is actually his mate (I dislike that word but oh well) and basically fixes his mistakes in ep 8 ect ect, goes slightly further, loving the surprise Tyler/ajax friendship that comes with dating enid/wednesday, also good Adams adopting Tyler vibes {10 chapters 20,203 words and counting}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43466823/chapters/109273329

Just the Two (Three) of Us - wednesday if she’s known about the hyde from the beginning, I really love this fic, lots of wyler connection and chemistry and stuff, trust me, its good, the characterisation and writing is excellent {7 chapters 22,728 words so far}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43329579/chapters/108917643

You can occupy my every sigh - wyler!! Literally my fav fic rn, Tyler already goes to nevermore, has its own plot line sorta, pls check the tags and rating before reading, Wednesdays characterisation is so good, got some Tyler/enid friend vibes as well, soulmates? Bonded? Something? idk its really good and super long - {11 chapters, 123,607 words and counting}

okay thats it!! let me know what u think in the comments, also if u have good fics that I haven't put on here I'm always open to more recs :)

#wyler #wednesday x tyler #tyler x wednesday #tyler galpin #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday #weyler #??#I know thats not their actual name but ill put this on that tag too #fic recs #ao3 #fan fiction

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sundeathh · 2 years

Text

Thanks to the Elevator

Part 1

Fanfiction | Masterlist

Pairing: Aizawa × Fem!Reader

Fandom: BNHA | MHA | Word count: + 4,4k

Categories: Workplace romance, enemies to lovers, tsundere, angst & fluffy.

CW: Cursing, smut and some bickering. This chapter is SFW but the whole story is not.

SUMMARY: A headcanon where Aizawa is an emotionally constipated man; but is a sweetheart inside. It also relies on my headcanon that his love language is physical contact, quality time, and acts of service. The reader is a psychologist, so you know how it goes!

NOTES: I tried to write him as close to the OC as possible. However, this is my first story. I wrote it randomly during the day, at dawn, under the influence of sleeping pills, and so on. So, apologies if I messed up. I'm reviewing it several times and will publish it in parts so that it won't become an extremely long post. Reposting is not allowed. The events in this fiction are before All Might starts working at U.A. Also, I left out the cannon events, so I can explore them properly later if I change my mind about the plot.

It was your first day at work as a counselor at U.A High School. Although you had been to campus before to attend your job interview, you weren't used to the new surroundings.

Principal Nezu was waiting for you at the front gate. After your mutual greetings, you headed to the building for a little tour before starting your day at work.

He promptly gave you a few instructions to familiarize you with the new space and routine; unfortunately, though, you are not that good at paying attention when feeling nervous.

So, as soon as Nezu left you alone, you started to wander around, uncertain about how you would get to the classrooms you were supposed to watch.

You didn't let your nervousness show, though. With all the confidence you could afford, you just walked to the nearby student and politely asked for directions.

However, before the student could respond, you heard a deep voice come from behind you as a tall man with long black hair spoke.

"I can guide you from here, miss."

You turned around to face the source of the voice and met a pair of tired eyes and messy hair that almost made you giggle at the relaxed figure that seemed out of place compared to the workspace surrounding you.

While you were holding back your laughter, the student greeted the both of you before leaving, since someone else offered to fulfill your request.

You waved at the student with a gentle smile, while the man only replied to them with a slow nod.

"Hi. I am Shouta Aizawa. The principal told me about the work you will be in charge of." He told you, and you quickly accepted his handshake and shook it as you introduced yourself back.

You could imagine what awaited you in the first days of work beforehand, as you were told you would follow each class in the early hours for a week to gather information and remain in an office for the rest of the day to accompany students who would need individualized follow-up.

Just as informed, you'd start with class 1-A, being then bullied by a weird loud blonde after about who would be your first coworker to interact with;

So, fighting your initial apprehension, you tried to break the awkward silence.

"Sorry to bother you like this, but I don't know where the classrooms are. The principal mentioned that I would get more orientation later, but I was hoping I could unravel the place myself..." You explained your predicament as you nervously played with the ends of your jacket.

The man nodded in response, and hummed for a second before giving you a proper answer.

"I can direct you there." Came the reply after staring at you for another second. "Follow me. If we stay on this path, we'll reach the classroom in no time." He instructed.

As you followed him, you glanced around at everything. U.A wasn't like the high schools you used to work at in your country. This one looked way more modern and futuristic than most of its peers.

While absorbed in admiring the architecture, you felt a hand ghost over your shoulder. Turning around, you saw the tired man pointing to what you assumed was an elevator.

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped forward and entered it. After a minute or two of silence, the elevator reached its destination, and the doors opened.

Stepping out into the big hallways of the building, you tried your best not to make any unnecessary noise while following behind as the apparent stoic countenance of the man was replaced by a bored expression, which only made you worry more about working with him.

Before you could overthink it, though, you were standing outside the door to the classroom which students you were supposed to observe.

"Here we are," The teacher announced while opening the door. He stepped aside so that you could enter first.

Most of the class was already there, with only two spots missing its students. Some were chatting amongst themselves while others sat silently in their assigned seats.

Aizawa cleared his throat and raised his voice. When everyone looked up, he motioned for you to follow him further inside the classroom.

"Everyone." He called. "This is Y/n L/n. She will follow the classes over the next few days to gather information about your student profile and to offer psychological and counseling support."

He stopped to take a deep breath before adding, "she will supervise your behavior during training and provide personal assistance when needed." The kids nodded at the announcement.

"So, now, please feel free to get to know each other," Shouta stated as he gestured toward your direction.

The class erupted almost immediately with various questions at once; some of the students seemingly excited.

Taking a deep breath, you stood in front of the class and prepared yourself to speak. The students immediately went silent as soon as you started talking.

"Hello, everyone! My name is Y/n L/n! I am here to guide and assist your learning by monitoring your behavior and providing all help necessary!" You greeted enthusiastically, trying to hide your nerves.

“If I may ask, what exactly do you teach?” An enthusiastic girl asked after she raised her hand.

"Well, I am not here to teach a specific subject. Instead, my role is to assist you in the overall performance of the course through psychological support to prevent the stress from causing difficulties in your school life." You answered with ease. "In addition, I will provide my counseling services for those who require them, but I can also give practical assistance if necessary."

"What is the practical part?" Asked another student.

"For most purposes, I will analyze your performance and write reports based on my professional perception of each of you during the semester while working alongside the teachers. So, you can come to me personally to request your analysis to work on improving your strengths by recognizing your flaws and learning to improve them."

Once again, an array of responses ranging from excitement to confusion hit you. It took a bit longer this time before the class settled down and quieted down once again.

"Okay, I believe that was enough introductions! We can continue our talking later as you are free to approach me for help. For now, I will stay in the class to observe and will not interfere with the teaching." You finished with a small smile and walked to the corner of the room to watch the class at hand.

As the hours passed, you observed each of them closely. By the end of the class, you already could tell which students would be more challenging and which would be easier to work with;

Before you left the classroom, the tall teacher gestured to get your attention, asking your initial opinion about the students. You answered as briefly and objectively as possible, receiving just a nod in response.

Once he turned his attention away from you without saying anything else, you excused yourself and left.

To you, it appeared to be a pretty quiet morning for a first day at work.

It was a little weird, sure – you caught Aizawa sleeping in the corner of the classroom like a yellow worm when you returned from lunch – but everything else was going well.

You let the weight off your shoulders after realizing that your initial nervousness was not all that justifiable.

The man that supposedly would be a headache for you did not seem so intimidating anymore.

He seemed to be just eccentric, and that was fine. You could handle it.

Or so you thought.

- - -

On your first day of work, the rest of the staff was introduced to you, just as well. And, a few weeks after that, you already had adapted yourself to your workplace and coworkers.

That is, with most of them. Working alongside Aizawa was quite intriguing.

At first, working with him was not much different than it had been on the first day, as you only talked to each other about what was necessary and convenient to work.

After a few weeks, however, for no apparent reason, every time you would step into the same room as him, his sharp gaze would immediately lock onto your frame and scrutinize you without a single word, almost like he was angry at you.

His eyebrows would contract ever so slightly, but his expression remained unreadable.

He would, eventually, act normal and talk to you to ask your thoughts on the students but would say nothing more than that.

Other times, though, he seemed to completely ignore you as you talked about your perception of the students during training classes, eventually grunting at you, annoyed, as if that was any kind of response.

At the end of the work shift, however, he would pressure you to deliver your notes and reports to him as soon as possible.

After a few weeks of working with him like this, you concluded that he didn't like having someone else influencing his work directly, as he seemed to be rigid and have his way of doing things.

He seemed to prefer just reading what you had pointed out and drawing his conclusions. And so you went on with your workdays.

You barely spoke to each other, except during the rare social formalities the two of you would exchange.

On one particular morning, though, he was sitting on the couch in the teachers' lounge grading papers by himself when you arrived.

"Morning." You muttered quietly. You hadn't expected him to even acknowledge your presence, so you were surprised when he spoke.

"Morning. Didn't expect you to arrive early." He answered.

"Oh. Yeah, I had to come early to finish a report." You said monotonously. You knew you would have to deal with this awkward aura every time you interacted with the man, so you always tried to cut the dialogue short and narrow the subject down to professional matters.

"I see. You can sit down here, then." He said without even looking up at you as he gestured to the empty seat beside him. You only nodded and obliged.

As you settled down and started to pull out your laptop from your bag, you were slightly startled by the sudden noise of Aizawa clearing his throat.

He looked up from his papers and stared at you for a moment as if considering something.

"Yes?" You asked, studying his stare.

He blinked before looking back down at his papers. "Nothing." He responded, returning to his grading.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, he suddenly spoke up again. "What's your quirk?"

You looked at him with furrowed brows since you didn't expect him to talk to you or ask about anything not correlated with work or his students, and the fact that he replied to your good morning with small talk and asked you to sit with him was unusual enough.

While this was unexpected, it was not all off-putting. Maybe Shouta was only tracking you to see how else you could affect his students.

"Your quirk. What is it?" He repeated, faced with your lack of response.

"I can access the memory of people I touch. I can also modify them, create one or erase it. However, I can only do the last three properly if the person is willing to and wants it. It was good to help people deal with trauma before; that's why I became a psychologist in the first place." You explained.

His gaze seemed to darken slightly at that statement, and he just resumed to his grading. After some seconds, though, he lifted his head to look at you again. "Have you ever tried to get the advantage of this quirk? Manipulate people without their consent?" He inquired.

You shook your head, unsure of where he was going with this line of questioning. "Never. I only used it to help. Sometimes it was useful because it lets me know if people were abused and allows me to erase or modify memories that cause a person suffering, with consent. But it does not always work. As I said, it works best if the person is willing and relaxed." You admitted truthfully, trying not to sound too bitter or offended.

"It seems like a quirk that could go misunderstood easily." He paused for a moment to check if you wanted to reply. You just nodded at his statement.

He seemed to sigh as though relieved. "I guess that was why I asked. I assumed you might have a mental quirk since you are not a hero and work in counseling." He said, looking at you for a second before adding: "good luck on your job," then turned his attention back to his grading.

You smiled faintly and gave him a short bow before returning to work. You couldn't deny that the idea of manipulating people through their memories was a pretty tempting one. But you were sure that there was no chance of you succeeding.

If you found yourself using your power on someone else for the bad, your life would be hell. No matter how tempting, your moral nature wouldn't allow you to use that effect on a living being.

Maybe that was why he started acting weirdly towards you, you thought. Perhaps he mistrusts you with his students. Maybe, he thinks that your job is not good enough. Or yet, maybe he thought less of you because you are not a hero.

With a soft sigh, you pushed that thought to the back of your head. Both of you kept working in silence until it was time to head to class.

- - -

It’s been four months since you started working at U.A.

Present Mic and Midnight were the coworkers with whom you developed a friendly relationship the fastest.

They were also the people you turned to solve any disagreements you'd have with Aizawa. And, as usual, when the worm man would take his lunch break to sleep, you'd join the duo for lunch.

"So," Nemuri began the conversation while picking a piece of meat from her rice bowl with her chopsticks. "How are the students attending the counseling?"

You shrugged as you put another spoonful of soup into your mouth. "They are alright. I haven't come across anything too out of the ordinary yet." You replied.

"Oh! That’s great! And how about Shouta? Any progress?" Nemuri probed.

You froze in place for a couple of seconds before shrugging again.

Nemuri narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. "Y/n, I think we should stop beating around the bush here. Is he treating you alright? Or did anything happen between you two?" She questioned.

You sighed, "we are fine," you stated nonchalantly.

"Really? Because according to Mic, he keeps staring at you during lessons and is practically glaring at everyone whenever you enter the room." Nemuri continued.

This time it was your turn to narrow your eyes at her suspiciously.

Midnight didn't seem to notice the slight change in your look, however, as she quickly switched to her innocent facade. "Maybe he is jealous that the kids get to spend so much time with you?" She suggested.

That was a possibility. It was true that Shouta had been staring at you strangely lately; at times, he almost seemed like he was waiting for you to do something. Or maybe it was just a figment of your imagination.

Who knows, right? You tried not to put much thought into it. You got along fast with everyone, but then again, Aizawa didn't seem like the type of person that would allow people to get along that easily. And it was alright to you, besides the fact that he stared at you weirdly most of the time.

You were brought back from your thoughts by Hizashi's exclaim. "Ooooohh! Y/n, maybe you should go on a date!"

Nemuri choked on the sip of water she was drinking and nearly spat it on the table.

"What?" You inquired.

Hizashi glanced at your confused reaction.

"Why don't you go on a date with Shouta? If I didn’t know any better, I would say he wants to be at least friends with you!" He added with a cheeky grin.

"I don’t think so." You firmly denied it.

Nemuri was still recovering from her coughing fit. After finishing, she placed her chopstick back in the bowl and sighed.

"Oh, Y/n, how oblivious can you be?"

You raised an eyebrow at her. "That just doesn't seem likely." You argued.

The other two exchanged glances.

"Well, what makes you so certain?" She pressed.

You thought for a moment before replying. "Aizawa looks uncomfortable around me. Annoyed, even. And I am just doing my job."

"You know what, Y/n, I’m sensing some sexual tension," Hizashi smirked. You choked on your soup.

"Don’t make fun of me!" You glared.

"No one is making fun of you," Nemuri chuckled at your comment, "it is more like we are thinking about you."

"What?"

"You are just so oblivious. We noticed that you keep staring at him at random times. And it seems like he stares back sometimes too." She explained amusedly.

"That proves nothing." You defended, though you were starting to doubt your words.

"Really?" Mic asked with a smirk on his face. "How often does he stare? Do you think you could count them?" He teased you.

"Shut it!" You snapped as you felt your cheeks start burning.

Both of them snorted and laughed. While you felt embarrassed, you couldn't help but smile at how easily their teasing worked on you.

"Do you want us to try and catch him staring at you? Or do you want to do it yourself?" Hizashi said slyly. You blushed furiously at his offer.

"No!" You shouted. The blonde grinned at your outburst, clearly enjoying teasing you. Meanwhile, Nemuri looked at you with amusement, her cheeks slightly puffed.

The rest of lunch went by quietly, with you awkwardly trying to finish your soup as you planned how to avoid eye contact with the man who looked like a demon every time you saw each other.

When you returned to your office, however, you couldn't stop thinking about what the heroes said. Did they mean to imply that Shouta was interested in you?

Even if it was just a crush, that couldn't be right. You didn't even know if that man liked anyone. And even if he did, you doubted he would choose you.

A small voice spoke up in the back of your mind, telling you to consider the possibilities. It was almost like it was calling you out on your naivety.

You shook your head violently. No way.

He didn't look at you as anything other than an annoying coworker, right? There was not a chance.

Then, after your work day ended, you went home, feeling conflicted over what had transpired during lunchtime.

What the hell was that? You thought to yourself. Why would they tease you about it out of the blue? And, more importantly, why did you bother with it in the first place?

You didn't know, so you decided to drop the issue and focus on the paperwork you had gotten in the week.

Hopefully, it would distract you from the fact that your mind started to race with the possibilities of what that all could mean.

- - -

The next few weeks passed with you avoiding Shouta even more, and you didn't even know why you were bothering with it so much.

Also, it didn't get any better when you couldn't help but notice how hard his gaze was fixed on you when you passed him in the lounge to get a cup of coffee.

Or yet, how he seemed annoyed whenever he caught your gaze but also slightly amused at the same time.

You were pouring your coffee into the mug when you heard Hizashi heading toward Shouta.

As soon as the blonde sat down next to his friend, he immediately began rambling. The ravenette just looked at him blankly, nodding his head to whatever the other was talking about here and there. Nevertheless, you could tell that he kept glancing in your direction, although you still avoided eye contact.

"Hey, Y/n! Care to join us?" Mic called over to you.

You turned around to meet his gaze, which appeared not to notice the sudden tension in the air.

Phony.

"Sure." You replied dryly before walking towards them, taking a seat on the opposite side of Hiz.

Hizashi gave you an encouraging smile as you set your mug on the side table before turning to face them properly.

"Alright, Eraser, we need to talk about our last lesson for the week." Hizashi declared, trying to break the awkward silence that had descended upon the group. Shouta merely grunted in response.

"Are you okay? You seem kinda distracted." Hizashi began, concern evident in his tone.

"I'm fine." Came the reply.

Mic raised a brow. "Then tell me why you kept looking over there?" He queried.

"Look, whatever you are implying-"

"-is absolutely nothing that concerns you and Y/n. What I meant was that you seemed kinda off today." Hizashi interrupted.

Aizawa sighed deeply before giving up trying to defend himself against Hizashis' interrogation. Then, he ran a hand through his hair. "It is just a headache." He mumbled.

"A headache? Caused by stress? Or is it-"

"Hey, Hizashi. What are you trying to do?" You intervened.

Shouta looked surprised by your interruption, and Hizashi looked taken aback by your question. But the loud man only gave you a cocky smile. "I was going to say that Aizawa has probably been drinking too many cups of coffee." He said. You rolled your eyes.

Both of them glanced at each other, silently debating whether or not to continue talking.

Finally, after few seconds passed, the blonde spoke up again. "We will drop it for now," he said, "but I assure you, he is just acting a bit weird." He stated.

You knew better than anyone that you would never convince Hizashi to drop the topic. "Right." You replied.

"Good," Hizashi said with a smile. Then, he turned to face Shouta again, "but seriously though, what is it?"

Aizawa huffed in annoyance and looked away. Hizashi chuckled. "Sorry, man. I was only messing with you!"

Shouta remained quiet.

"So, where are you headed after work?" Hizashi inquired.

"Home."

"Oh, come on! It's Friday! You have to hang out with us at least a little bit!" He whined.

"I can't. I am busy with paperwork, so I need to go home after work and get it over with." Shouta said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Hizashi frowned before turning back to you. "Come on, Y/n! Join us! I won’t let you skip out on me too!" He pleaded.

You smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Hiz. I should go home after work too." You replied.

Hizashi frowned even more at your answer. "Ah, come on! Just one drink? Please!?" He asked dramatically.

You chuckled before answering with a short sigh and a smile, defeated by his persistence. "Okay, okay, fine! But just one drink." You stated. With that, the blonde was gladly satisfied.

To your surprise, the day went by strangely smoothly after that. You went to your office to asssist some students individually and didn't cross paths with Aizawa or Yamada until the end of the day.

At lunch, you spent some quality time chatting with Nemuri and Ishiyama, happy to have a break from Hizashis' insinuations and teasing for a while.

After that, you were busy updating confidential records about the students on your laptop, and the time went by quickly. Before you knew it, it was time to leave – the school was quiet, indicating that the classes had ended for quite some time.

Packing your things, you quickly organized your office and headed for the exit, turning off the light and locking the door as you left.

You took your cell phone out of your pocket as you walked through the hallway, checking the notifications you received during the day.

[Hizashi]: Are you still coming????? Nemuri started to let things slip out of her mouth!!!! o(≧∇≦o)

God. Were they already there? How long has it been since the shift ended?

[You]: Sorry, Hiz. I got caught up doing stuff. ( ꒦ິ–꒦ີ) But I’ll make my way down soon!! See ya soon!!!

You put your phone back in your pocket as you rounded the corner that led to the elevators. Glancing ahead again, you came across the tall, black-clad figure that had been haunting your mind lately.

Awesome.

You slowly walked towards the doors, pausing to wait for the elevator that Shouta had already requested.

As you approached it, he glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the screen of his phone.

When the elevator arrived and opened its doors, both of you stepped inside, waiting for the ground floor. Once the doors closed, he glanced at you briefly from the corner of his eye.

Then, he cleared his throat.

"I thought you'd be hanging out with Mic?" He asked, casually.

"I will. I just needed to take care of some stuff before I left. Why do you ask?" You questioned as you turned your head to face him.

He hesitated for a second before shrugging. "No reason."

You stared at him for a moment before nodding, turning your head back forward. But you couldn't let this opening to get something out of this guy pass. You wanted to know what had been going through his mind for a while now.

Glancing up at him again, you asked, "by the way, how are you? Mic insists that you've been acting weird lately. Not that this is any of my business, anyway, so…" You trailed off.

He seemed to stiffen a little, and you could tell he gritted his teeth before he sighed. "I’m alright." He replied, his voice remaining expressionless. Regardless, you thought that you made him feel uncomfortable.

So you nodded in agreement, giving up on questioning him as it seemed he wouldn't speak again. And anyway, your desire to know more about him was not worth his discomfort.

Silence fell between you two one more time, but somehow it did not feel as awkward as it used to. That is, until you heard a soft click and the elevator stopped in its tracks, the lights going out and leaving you in complete darkness until the emergency light came on seconds after.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests.

#bnha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x you #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa fluff #mha aizawa #aizawa x reader #mr aizawa #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero fic #boku no hero x reader

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canon-in-too-deep · 8 days

Text

End of a Series, and Deleted Dinner With Gortash Scene

After over 75k words, I closed out the last part of my Don't Forget You Love Me series on AO3 yesterday. It's a light hearted Baldur's Gate 3 fic starring Gortash x Tav that started out as a rom com and ended with family fluff. The final chapter was a small scene for the sequel The Fluffy Raccon (a fluffy one shot collection after the main story ends), and I just had so so much fun with these characters, I wanted to make a post here to mark a personal milestone. 🦝🦝🦝 The last year, I've gotten back into fandom, which led me back to writing, and writing has led me to typesetting...and it's been a helluva time! I'm having a blast sharing everything I've made in my hyper fixated frenzies, and have loved getting to focus my passion on all these projects. So thank you to everyone who's stopped by to smell the pixels! The first chapter of my Gortav fic can be found here. Below the break is a deleted scene from Don't Forget You Love Me that I wrote for Chapter 3 that I ended up scrapping and rewriting. I found it in my old notes folder, and decided to let it get some sunlight here. I have some more Gortav (Tavtash?) deleted scenes and snippets cluttering up my google docs. If I get time or if there's interest, I might post them here as well. Also if you're just here for free typesets I'm working on more of those too!

Scene: Tav has amnesia. Tav has forgotten that she is married to Gortash. Tav has dinner with Gortash. Tav glared at Gortash from across the dining table. So what if all the healers and clerics in the city had come to the archduke’s residence and spent days fussing over her, before declaring that her memories of the last fourteen months were assuredly gone? So what if all the politicians and lords of the Upper City bowed to her and sent her get well missives, all while bemoaning the poor health of their dear archduchess? So what if even her friends—those that she could get a hold of, anyway—told her themselves that the Elder Brain had long ago been dealt with and her pact with Gortash had been expanded to involve marriage? She still wanted to kill him. “Dearest, at least eat something whilst you glower at me,” Gortash said, not even looking up as he sliced through a cut of meat with a silver blade. “Maybe it’s poisoned,” Tav suggested. “Maybe that’s how you got me to marry you. Maybe you doused my food with some kind of love potion, and—” “Enough.” Gortash spoke sharply, and set down his utensils. He cleared his throat, and braced both hands against the table. “If you insinuate such things again, I may lose my patience.” “And what, you’ll show your true colors as a monster?” she said, crossing her arms. “And I just might take more drastic measures to jog your memory,” he said, lowering his voice. Tav’s brow furrowed. “Like what? What the fuck are you talking about—” Gortash got up, his chair scraping against the floor as he left his spot at the head of the table to stride over towards where she’d positioned herself farthest from him.

Tav gripped the arms of her chair, staring up with open irritation at the archduke now towering over her. His dark gaze swept across her features, before settling on her own eyes.

“Perhaps you might remember something more…engaging of the senses,” he mused, his voice dangerously low to Tav’s ears.

“What are you—”

Her words caught in her throat, as a large hand came up to caress her cheek, stroking down with calloused fingers, to end with a delicate hold of her chin.

“The first time, we had dinner together, you refused to eat less there be poison in the food. Of course, I offered to feed you by hand, but you were such a stubborn little thing…” His thumb came up to trace her bottom lip.

Tav slapped him and snarled. “Bastard!” She got up and stormed off.

Gortash, unperturbed, nursed his reddening cheek, and said aloud to himself, “Ah…she did the same thing the first time, too…”

#fanfic #ao3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #enver gortash #gortash fic #gortav #tavtash #gortash x tav #Don't Forget You Love Me #The Fluffy Raccoon #my writing

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dcawritings · 5 months

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Twinkle Twinkle (Little Star)

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Eclipse/GN!Reader

Summary:

In the quiet emptiness of the hallway, it's all too easy to get lost in your own thoughts. You stare down at the collection of items in your hands with only the soft echo of Christmas music coming from the end of the hall leading to the living room — soothing, but distant. It has been playing since you woke up earlier that day and the sound has all but fallen into the background of the afternoon chill. (A story in which you get ready for Christmas with post-ruin Eclipse and slowly realize that you love him.)

Author's Note:

While this may be a little late for a traditional christmas fic, this is for @murasaki-rose from the DCA Secret Santa 2023 event! I hope that you find this as cute and fluffy as I did while writing it -- Eclipse is an absolute sweetheart and I love any excuse to write him being domestic :3c Thank you also to @solar-synapse for all the feedback to help make sure this piece was as polished as I wanted it to be! ;w; Your advice and writing help is invaluable!

In the quiet emptiness of the hallway, it's all too easy to get lost in your own thoughts.

You stare down at the collection of items in your hands with only the soft echo of Christmas music coming from the end of the hall leading to the living room — soothing, but distant. It has been playing since you woke up earlier that day and the sound has all but fallen into the background of the afternoon chill.

In one of your hands are several old shopping bags stuffed with ribbons, tape and various other supplies for wrapping gifts that you've accumulated over the years. In the other is a relatively small bundle of multicolored lights that have seen far better days. The strands are criss-crossed over one another in giant knots of plastic and unlit bulbs. Is it worth it to untangle them...?

Normally, your answer might have been a solid 'no'.

It isn't because you dislike the holidays or the activities related to them (absolutely not!) but simply because you rarely have a need to pull much out. Ever since moving to this apartment on your own, you didn't exactly have much of a reason to decorate for the holidays — less so after leaving the Pizzaplex when bills got heavier on your shoulders and another job offered higher pay. It was an at-home job doing database work, but... you missed seeing other people. With friends and family so far away, it meant a lot to have even a stupid little holiday party with faces you were somewhat familiar with, even if the pizza and copious amounts of Fizzy Faz served were convenient tax write-offs.

The last two Christmases were spent alone, so you never bothered to pull out much more than a small, cheap tree and some ornaments to decorate its scraggly limbs. It wasn't lonely per se, but...

A loud crash pulls you out of your thoughts. Dropping everything in your hands, you run out of the closet and immediately start to think the worst. There are plenty of boxes in the room you'd sent Eclipse to look through, and if he managed to topple them all...

"Are you okay?" you call out, hurrying down the hallway to find where your housemate had been rummaging through the rest of your old decorations. Worry starts to well up in your chest when you don't get an answer. "... Eclipse?"

"Y-Yes yes! I am alright!" a familiar, bright voice all but chirps before stepping around the corner. He looks entirely unfazed, outside of being covered in several long strings of Christmas lights and smiling like an idiot. "There was a lot of stuff to go through in your office — you had lots of boxes stacked up veeery precariously! But don't worry-"Eclipse gestures to the big tub of loosely packed ornaments he holds like a treasure. "-we made sure these didn't hit the ground!"

Relief flickers across your face for a moment before you start to laugh, the sound filling the air around you and echoing within the snug space of the hallway.

"Oh, those are all plastic ornaments," you say, patting one of Eclipse's arms. "It will take more than a little fall to break them. I think I keep the good ornaments in my bedroom closet."

Eclipse peers down at the container in his arms, then tilts his head curiously. It isn't hard for the animatronic to look endearing, but the fact that he is entirely covered in tangled lights is only making it worse. You reach out and gently try to remove the strands caught between his rays.

"I assume you found all..." you gesture at his entire body and the lights dangling over his face. "All this in there too?"

"Yup!" he nods, smile never fading. "The lights were on top of the box in a big big bundle and... well, it fell down, but we saved these since we thought they were important..."

His expression droops for a moment, but you gently pat the side of Eclipse's faceplate. His eyes lift and meet with yours and, for a breath, you feel your heart begin to race. It takes several seconds before you realize that your fingertips are lingering against the cool metal. You pull them away abruptly, heat spreading across your cheeks.

"That... was very considerate of you," you say with a smile, words honest and praying that he wasn't paying too much attention to the fact that you couldn't quite meet his glowing gaze. "I haven't actually pulled these out in a few years. I... I think they'd look really nice on the tree, if you want to help with that."

The animatronic instantly beams with joy and sprints to the living room before you even have a moment to try and untangle the lights from his body.

Christmas Eve comes and goes with very little fanfare, a lovely and peaceful evening spent in the company of someone you cherish. A friend — and nothing different, though your mind often wandered back to the moment of brief intimacy shared in the hallway; the way your eyes met with his like a spark of electricity, and your heart felt all too tight in your chest.

Just friends. Companions of fate so tightly bound together that you still wonder what possessed you all those months ago to climb through the crumbling skeleton of the old Pizzaplex.

Was it guilt? Curiosity? You'll never quite know the answer, since whatever compelled you was quickly overwhelmed by the shock of seeing the daycare attendant still functioning. Mostly functioning.

You and Eclipse spend the evening together in the living room, gazing at the tree and reminiscing about inconsequential memories of the old Pizzaplex and daycare alike. It was unknown for a while after taking him home if Eclipse could even access Sun and Moon's memory; he explained early on that he himself was something of a backup subsystem, almost like booting up a computer in a safety mode to diagnose errors and issues plaguing it otherwise.

It had been awkward for a month or so, but the two of you grew close rather quickly — especially once time allowed memories and personality quirks to seep into Eclipse's own sense of self: Moon's soft but mischievous nature, Sun's near-overwhelming need to be helpful. It shouldn't have been surprising how they fit so well together, but you still often found yourself wondering about how it all worked inside of the animatronic's mind.

You take a slow, careful sip of the hot drink in your hands. It's sweet, the aroma filling the air as you raise it up to your lips and let its flavor settle over your tongue. It's a nice contrast to the stark chill outside your apartment, making its heat feel all the more comforting as you stare at the tree.

"I think we did a good job!" you finally say, tilting your head just slightly to the side. "And the ornaments are only a liiiitle crooked."

"Are they?" Eclipse asks, tone sounding almost worried as he brings a hand up to the lower half of his faceplate. "We can adjust them again if you think-"

"Eclipse no, no I don't-" you laugh, managing to reach an arm out to keep the bot from moving off the couch beside you without choking on your drink. "It was just a joke. Promise. Besides, it's nicer if things aren't perfect."

He looks at you, silent for a few moments, then slowly leans back into the couch again. That's Sun for you, eager as always to jump and fix a problem...

The lights twinkle in multicolored splendor across the deep green of the fake tree, accented by bits and bobs of ornaments you had collected over the years — many of them were hand-made, either gifted by friends or given to you by the children of the daycare back when you managed that part of the facility. While time has blurred the memories, there are still a couple you can remember clearly, though that might be due to the fact that the ornaments are labeled with the kids' names in various colors of marker, paint and glitter glue.

"Pretty..."

Eclipse's soft whisper catches your attention and makes you giggle. "Yeah," you nod in agreement, turning and looking towards him. "The lights are really-"

Oh. He'd been looking at you.

Both of your gazes lock together for a moment before the bot averts his eyes quickly, the entire exchange only taking a moment or two but feeling almost like an eternity as heat rises up into your cheeks for a second time that day.

"I uh." You try to collect your thoughts, then nod towards the tree. "I think you did a good job on getting those lights untangled! I would have just tossed them out."

Eclipse hums, gaze trailing towards the tree. "Thank you," he says. "It wasn't too hard to do! Just takes time to unravel everything properly."

You feel impressed for a few moments before remembering that Eclipse — Sun and Moon, to be specific — are likely programmed with enough patience to tolerate such a herculean feat. When compared to dealing with a horde of small children on a daily basis, untangling a few sets of Christmas lights is nothing more than child's play (pun certainly not intended).

You sip your drink silently, trying not to think about how gently he had looked at you.

The evening is peaceful and sweet.

"Merry Christmas!"

Eclipse's voice is a bright ray of warmth amidst the frigid backdrop of winter.

You almost don't see him as you step into the room, bleary eyes blinking away the last drops of sleep; you might have slept a few hours longer if Eclipse hadn’t sent you a flurry of text messages begging you to wake up.

The bot looks at you from the other side of the couch, rays twitching with excitement. He leans forward on his knees as if eagerly waiting for your reply.

"Merry Christmas to you too, buddy," you murmur with a smile. After a moment, you narrow your gaze and raise a brow. "Have you been... sitting there all night?"

"Not all night," he corrects, glowing eyes glancing off to the side. "We needed to spend an hour or so in the kitchen to charge, but... well, we were just too excited! We want to open open open the presents under the tree!"

He shifts more onto the couch, making your face crane upwards to keep his gaze. It's easy to forget how tall Eclipse is when he's almost constantly hunching over or sitting on the floor beside you. He's simply excited, so the looming shadow overhead is hardly frightening even as he claps his hands together with a loud metallic thunk.

"And we want to watch you open your present too!"

The gesture brings a smile to your still-tired lips. Glancing behind him at the multicolored shapes sitting innocently beneath the belighted tree, you have to wonder, what in the world could he have gotten for you? It's not as if Eclipse has the ability to leave the house to purchase a gift, and you haven’t noticed him working on anything recently...

Curiosity wins out in the end, though you wouldn’t be able to deny the over-enthusiastic animatronic such a simple joy for long, especially not with that adorable, pleading look on his faceplate.

After all, had the animatronics of the Pizzaplex ever truly been able to celebrate the holidays? Outside of trying to sell something, of course — the Fazbear Corporation wasn't one to let a chance at profit slip away from them so easily — you don't recall there ever being a lot of opportunities for Sun or Moon to get into the spirit of things themselves.

Sure, there were special crafts for the kids and a change in the decorations strewn about the facility, but… In a way, this really is Eclipse's first ever Christmas.

"Let me get something warm to drink," you finally say, smile never dropping from your lips at the thought. "And then we can open presents, m’kay?"

The bot's excited shouts echo into the kitchen as you step through the archway separating the rooms. It doesn't take very long to prepare something hot to sip on, yet by the time you return to the living room, Eclipse is already sitting beside the tree and staring intently at the wrapped gifts beneath it.

"They're not going anywhere," you tease as you step around him and sit down on the couch. The cushions sink pleasantly beneath your weight, soft and warm, and it's only then that you realize just how cold the air feels; you’ll have to get up in a bit to make sure your heater isn't acting up again. "You'll survive waiting just a little bit longer, you dork."

It's hard not to feel amused by the way Eclipse looks at you, annoyed and restless, so much like a child told to be patient. He's all but leaning against the side of the tree, waiting for the first syllable of permission to grab the golden-wrapped box nearest where he's sitting.

"We've been waiting for exactly ten hours and thirty-seven minutes!" he says pointedly. "And technically you are the one who's late to opening the gifts. I had to wake you up!"

You lift an eyebrow as you sip the hot liquid. "... And what happened to 'not being up all night'?"

Eclipse makes a low, scoffing noise but otherwise doesn't offer an answer. He simply turns his attention back towards the presents and stares at them again, so hard that it's almost like he’s trying to see through the obstructive layers to the gift within.

There's a soft whisper in the back of your head idly musing to itself — how long can Eclipse be patient? You have half a mind to find out, perhaps even making him wait until you’ve finished your drink and gone to check the thermostat, but... No, you're not quite that cruel.

"Alright then," you giggle, setting the mug down and climbing off the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him. "Pick out a gift to open up." Beneath the fake green branches are a variety of boxes decorated in several different kinds of wrapping paper, so you take a moment to direct Eclipse's excitement by pointing them out. "Yours are wrapped in the sparkly gold paper, Sun's is the yellow polka-dot, and Moon's is the dark blue with the little stars."

You'd almost feel a little silly in wrapping their gifts up individually if you didn't already know how much Eclipse appreciated the distinction. Sun and Moon's individual processors and coding are still in self-repair mode, but you like the idea that they could still enjoy the holiday through Eclipse's eyes when they finally ‘wake’ back up.

"Can I... can I open them all?" Eclipse asks, picking up one of the blue boxes and giving it a gentle, experimental shake.

You nod, feeling more and more embarrassed as the words fall from your tongue. "Yeah! I figured that as long as they could like, see through your eyes when you opened the presents that it would... I dunno, I hope I didn't misunderstand when you said you could recall each other's memories..."

"Oh! No, you didn't misunderstand!" Eclipse sets the gift down and reaches out a hand to touch your cheek. The gesture is meant to be reassuring — he tends to use physical touch a lot when comforting someone — but his cool silicone fingertips feel like ice against your searing hot skin. "We just want to make sure we're following correct traditional expectations. On the internet, it said that it's rude to open presents for other people on Christmas."

You blink. Though you feel almost endeared by how sweet and polite he is, a detail sticks out in Eclipse's words that gives you a moment of pause.

"The internet?"

Eclipse's expression freezes. He pulls his hand back after a moment, looking decidedly more sheepish than before as his eyes flick back and forth to little parts of the living room that certainly aren’t as interesting as he makes them seem.

"Eclipse," you say gently. "Since when did you have access to the internet when I’m not around?"

After recovering him from the broken facility, you took every precaution to keep the animatronic safe — and that included the possibility of him getting a virus from a direct connection to your home's internet. Sure, you have a great anti-virus, a strong firewall and VPN since your job requires it, but you aren’t sure what kind of security programs Eclipse himself has onboard his processors.

Though there is a good chance that Fazco outfitted all of their animatronics with something to keep their software safe, you can't take any chances. You know of only one old programmer that had worked on Sun and Moon before the fire. His contact number is safely tucked away on your phone, but you don't want to know how much he'd charge to repair Eclipse if the bot stumbles into the dark corners of the web.

It’s why you prefer to let him use your phone or tablet to amuse himself when you can keep an eye on him. More often than not, Eclipse was entertained by pet videos and video game playthroughs, so it never occurred to you that he’d try to connect himself directly if he had no need to do so.

You must be staring at him pretty hard while everything parses through your brain, because after a few seconds Eclipse starts to tilt his faceplate this way and that, his body language growing jittery in the same way that Sun’s does when he's nervous. Wringing his hands together. Unsure where to let his eyes fall. Anxious.

"We didn't connect directly to the internet, for the record!" the bot finally exclaims. "No broken rules whatsoever! We just..." he pauses, then quickly grabs a box wrapped in red and white-striped paper. You know it's one you didn’t wrap even before seeing the little tag taped in the corner with your name on it.

Though a part of your mind would like to continue questioning his little internet secret, curiosity has been gnawing at everything since he mentioned there was a gift for you. Even if it was little more than a kid's art project, the gesture alone makes you feel almost giddy. He went out of his way to make sure you had something under the tree, even though you had told him many times over that it didn't matter — you have the financial stability to get yourself something nice every now and again, and it was more important that he had something to look forward to. That he got a really nice Christmas experience. For all that Eclipse has been through over the last several months (perhaps even years) it's the least that he deserves right now.

So to be genuinely surprised by a gift is... really nice. It makes something twist up gently in the center of your chest that you can't quite identify.

"Alright, alright," you giggle, shifting so that you can set the box down over your crossed legs and start tearing the thin paper away in long strips. Unsurprisingly, a simple cardboard box lies beneath, easily opened with a few careful tugs at the folded flaps.

Initially, all you can see within is a small mountain of bubble wrap. It takes a few seconds to pull most of it out, but eventually you reveal a shiny metallic form hidden within one last layer of bubble wrap carefully packed around it.

Pulling the item out and unrolling the protective layers, you realize that it's a music box sitting in your palms. It's relatively small — barely larger than a fist — and it looks familiar.

There used to be a gift shop at the Pizzaplex, and this one almost resembles the little music boxes sold there, but not exactly. Those were minuscule things, cheap to produce and capable of playing a thin, tinny version of various jingles heard around the facility, one of them being the Superstar Daycare theme, but… you had really wanted one of them. Silly, yeah, but you often caught yourself thinking ‘I’ll buy one with the next paycheck’ whenever you passed by the shop, and then coming across another bill that needed to be paid first.

This one mimics the overall design of a jack-in-the-box, with a bent handle jutting out of one side and a flat top that looks like it might open up if you start to wind it. A few tiny marks of imperfection speak to it being handmade; the metal is bent a little too much on the edges, and there are places where the paint hasn’t been applied smoothly. It's colored red on one side and a deep navy blue on the other with little stars speckled across the entire thing, though it's the carefully embossed shapes of a sun and crescent moon that catch your attention most.

"It's... beautiful, Eclipse. I love it."

Your words are little more than a soft whisper, stilted despite your attempts to hide the emotions plaguing them. There's something so personable about the gift that you can't quite put a finger on, and it weighs pleasantly heavy in your hands and heart alike.

Movement in the corner of your eye pulls your attention away from the item in your hands. Eclipse has shifted quite a bit closer to you, so much that when you look up, you find his faceplate barely more than a few inches away from your face. He reaches down, one palm cupping around the back of your hands to stabilize the music box while his other hand slowly winds it up. All the while, your thoughts linger over how gentle and large his hands are, practically engulfing yours against his flat palm.

The sweet sound of the daycare jingle fills the air with gentle, dulcet tones.

"We made this," he says so quietly that you might have missed the words if he wasn't so close to you. "It took a long time. You said you liked being in the daycare, that you wanted one of the music boxes so... we thought you'd like to have your own."

There are layers of meaning in those words; nostalgia for a time when things were less lonely, bitterness for the fact you'll never be able to experience it again, and an overwhelming sense of heaviness that you can't begin to decipher properly. What... is this feeling? It makes your chest ache and your eyes start to water, wet heat building up behind your sight until you realize that everything has started to go blurry.

That heat bubbles up until it's too much, then starts to roll down your cheeks in heavy droplets.

Ah. That's what's happening now, huh?

"Eclipse..."

You truly don't mean for your lip to quiver when you say his name. Nor do you mean to look so pathetic when his gaze meets yours — just a few inches of space between you both. Close enough to see the way his mechanical irises twitch and focus.

The bot suddenly freezes in place at the sound of your voice, entire body going stiff as ice for a silent heartbeat before his words start to run into one another.

"O-Oh my— We're— we're so sorry, sorry we didn't mean to make you cry oh goodness no we're so sorry starlight we didn't realize-" He fumbles his hands around yours as if to take the offensive item away, but you wrap your fingers so tightly around the metal shape with firm denial that it almost hurts.

"N-no!" It's hard to sound convincing when tears are actively dripping down your cheeks. "It's okay. I promise. I'm just- It's a really, really sweet gift. I wasn't expecting it to... hah, I'm just a bit more emotional about it than I thought I'd be."

A bit more emotional is a severe understatement, but it's hard to pinpoint why something so simple makes you feel as though your heart is about to burst right from your chest. It takes a moment, holding tight to your assurance and the music box both before Eclipse's body loosens up.

"It's... it's good?"

You nod. "Yeah! It's such a thoughtful gift, you... obviously put a lot of work into it." More work than you thought he'd be able to do, given the fact that you didn't have any metalworking tools available in the house. Or paint. Actually... "How in the world were you able to even make this?"

Eclipse is silent for a moment, still for just a breath before his fingertips begin rubbing idle circles into the back of your hands. He looks sheepish and fidgety again, but this time, you genuinely want to know what he's trying to keep secret and aren’t afraid to push the question.

"Eclipse..."

"So, you know when you take trips into town to do your errands?" he offers after a moment.

You nod. Even while working from home, you still need to get groceries and take care of the random tasks that come up every now and again. "Well, we... We found out that the library down the road has a little workshop. A-and the people who work there are really, really nice!"

Oh.

Oh god.

"You left the house?"

Eclipse immediately lifts his hands and waves them apologetically. "W-We didn't go far! Not far at all, just a few minutes walk away! W-we even made sure it was okay, emailed the librarian and asked if we were allowed to use the workshop!"

You groan. Eclipse is half-right on where your worry lay with him leaving the safety of your house, but he doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that he is a seven-odd-foot tall animatronic with no ability to pass as human. Granted, Fazco was all but driven out of town after the fire decimated the old facility, but you can’t risk someone identifying Eclipse and trying to claim him as company property.

The music box is still playing, though the tune has slowed down slightly. Maybe it's the soft sounds, maybe it's the heat in your chest — maybe it's the way Eclipse is looking at you with such wide, sad eyes that it's hard to stay mad — but you feel your anger yield to weary amusement.

"So you actually snuck away every time I went to get groceries?"

"Not every time," Eclipse denies. "Just... here and there since you mentioned wanting a music box." His words and expression grow warm, and for a moment you can almost swear that his faceplate is radiating heat. "Everyone there was really nice to me. Promise! When we told them what we were trying to do, they even showed me how to use the equipment and gave us materials to use since we said we, uh, didn't have any money."

"Well," you sigh, "I'll have to thank them sometime." And make sure nobody is going to report this to the police, or worse, a company lawyer.

As the tune of the music box winds down, finally going silent halfway through its melody, you come to realize that Eclipse hasn't moved. He's still hovering, faceplate so close that you can see all the little movements of his lips, as if there's something else he wants to say.

In fact, he's close enough that you can...

It all happens faster than your brain can process. Your body leans forward, face tilting up, lips parted ever so slightly. Eclipse's mouth is made of the same soft silicon covering his fingers and hands, made to be flexible and resilient so that he could be expressive and friendly-looking. You once wondered what those lips might feel like against yours, but nothing in the world could have prepared you when you close the inches of empty space between your faces.

Soft. They feel so... soft. And warm too, since you were absolutely right about Eclipse's faceplate heating up. Though you desperately want it to be anything but, the kiss is quick and awkward. It's only when he moves against you that reason and logic catch up with instinct and impulse.

You pull back suddenly, eyes wide and cheeks hot as fire while your brain desperately tries to come up with a worthwhile reply. Broken noises are all that falls from your lips however, bits and pieces of his name intermixed with something vaguely sounding like an apology.

Fear clutches your heart as it starts to race. You begin to push away, hoping that space might help you process your swirling thoughts, but Eclipse swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, preventing your escape.

"No," he says, plucking the music box from your hands and gently setting it down beside the two of you. Though his words could be considered shy or bashful, Eclipse's tone is firm and low. "Do that... do that again?"

You can say no.

You can tell him to let you go, and there's not a doubt in your mind that he would do so instantly. But... there's a part of you that doesn't want him to, a part that's been worming through your mind and in your chest ever since the first night he'd been with you — his hands on your back and his voice in your ear, soothing you through one of the most terrifying nightmares you'd ever had in your life.

Instead of saying anything at all, you simply lean forward and press your lips to his again.

This time it's less awkward, one moment blurring into the next as he learns how to reciprocate the motion and allow his mouth to meld against your own. The kiss is a little wetter than you expect, but that's only until you realize that there's a tongue gently pressing at the seam of your lips. You part them instinctively and allow Eclipse to taste you, one hand still on the small of your back as the other reaches up to cradle the back of your head.

It's so hot, so soft, so... so nice, actually. Your own hands are grasping at the loose shirt he wears, some old hand-me-down piece that fits him better than it ever did yourself. The fabric crumples in your fists and helps to anchor you while emotions swirl around like a storm.

And then, slowly, it's done. Eclipse pulls his faceplate back and looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, their glow so bright that it's as if you're looking into the sun itself, but they dim quickly, blinking as the two of you let the moment catch up with your bodies.

There's a quiet emptiness in the living room, the air still around you and Eclipse both. It settles for a few seconds, then fills with warmth that seems to emanate deep within your chest and lifts the corners of your lips into a shy smile.

"... Merry Christmas?" you finally offer, hoping the words could break the silence — and they do, leaving everything feeling cozy and comfortable as you allow Eclipse to hold your body up. He simply giggles, a smile mirrored on his expression as he looks down at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs, then kisses you again.

#dcass2023 #fic #eclipse fic #sfw #sfw fic #fnaf eclipse #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #dca fandom #fnaf dca fandom #writing #twinkle twinkle (little star)

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apocalypse-cowboy · 11 days

Text

Random Headcanon and Info dump of Scout and the Ghostbusters!!!

Note: It got a little bit rushed near the end, but I do plan on adding more in the future!

So to start off, Scout met Ray and Peter when they all where in college

*At first he didn't really say much to them. Mainly because he didn't know them at all

*Egon had to explain in simple terms (for Peter lol) about how Scout didn't talk to people at first, and instead he either uses sign language or writes everything down if the people dont understand it

The library was quite, something Scout enjoyed about it. He was reading a textbook about different kinds of plants.

He heard multiple sets of footsteps and a quiet, yet recognizable voice of his brother quietly scolding someone.

He feels a gentle tap on his shoulder and he looks at the culprit of the sudden touch, his brother and two other guys slightly behind him. He raised an eyebrow that hid behind the rim of his glasses and glanced at the other two people behind his beloved brother. His long fluffy hair was tied into a ponytail that swade with the movement.

"Scout," Egon droned "This is Peter and Ray, a couple of colleagues of mine." He said while pointed to the respective people. Peter playfully scoffed "God Egon, you know you can just say we are friends." He mumbled. Ray smiled politely and held his hand out for a handshake "It's nice to me you!" Ray said ever enthusiastic. Scout only stared at him as an awkward silence filled the area.

Egon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, this was going to be a long day.

*After a bit of time being around them, Scout comes to appreciate their friendship.

*Though sometimes Peter annoyed him, he couldn't lie and say that he didn't care about the guy

*He knows that Peter cares about him Egon and Ray. He's just to prideful to say it

*Scout and Ray, contrary to popular belief, get along like a house on fire

*Since Scout didn't want to talk as much as him, Ray would gladly fill the silence knowing well that the other was listening

The boys went out for dinner tonight. Scout had offered to pay, and after much bickering with Egon it was settled. They were all going for Chinese food.

They had all gotten their food and they were talking and laughing. Enjoying a night without having to worry about any classes the next day. Scout was sitting quietly, it would be normal if it weren't for the fact that he was just picking at his food and not bothering to eat much.

His leg was bouncing up and down, he didn't notice but the others sure did. So without cutting any conversation, Peter playfully nudged Scout's foot from under the table. The other only rolled his eyes and looked at him.

Peter only smirked and slid an egg roll to Scout, knowing that it was one of his favorite things. He let a smile twitch onto his face as he relaxes and eats the treat from his friend.

Scout and Ray were outside by the fountain in front of the University, both of them were waiting for Peter and Egon to meet them there so they could all go to class together.

"So, how was your day so far? Did you get enough sleep last night?" Ray asked his dear friend. Scout only made a 'so, so' hand gesture to say "Not really bad nor good." Ray nodded, understanding exactly what he was trying to say.

"Well," he started looking at his friend "I think I know something that could help!" He was more than happy to help someone he cared about. That was one thing Scout liked about Ray the most. He nodded letting his friend tell him about how some teas might help or also how he could try to take a warm shower before laying down for bed.

*I'm just gonna say it right now, the first time he actually spoke around Ray and Peter was when Peter really pissed him off

It was annoying.

Scout wasn't in the mood for Peter's bullshit. He was currently stressed out about exams that are coming up, and he had barley gotten any sleep the night before.

"So, all I'm saying is th-" "Would you shut the fuck up?!" Peter was abruptly cut off by Scout whisper-shouting to Peter not knowing they would all hear it.

Peter's jaw dropped, Ray was equally surprised and Egon just smirks at his brother and how shocked his friends were.

He found it hilarious okay?

*Now going forward to when they first band together as the Ghostbusters

*At this point, he was more than comfortable around the boys. So much to the point where they got to see a completely different side of him

*He was still his quiet nerdy self, he was just a bit more farel than his brother

*Like his brother, he is very fond of sweets. They didn't get to have most things kids grew up with considering it was a very strict household (R.I.P. slinky you will be missed, iykyk)

*But as soon as Egon and Scout met Peter and Ray, they got hooked on sweet treats and various snacks such as Twinkies and Cheese-Itz that where both a favorite amongst the two of them

*Peter found out the hard way by trying to sneak a Twinkie from the box beside Scout

___________________________

Scout was working in the lab on some new ghost traps while munching on some Twinkies. Peter had meandered into the lab looking to stir up some chaos between his two favorite nerds.

He looked at the box of Twinkies and without a second thought he went to grab one, then suddenly his hand got grabbed and was lightly bitten but Scout.

Peter was startled to say the least "Hey, hey, hey! What the hell!" He raised his voice at him. Egon looked over his shoulder at his friend "Egon! Tell your wild animal over here that he can't bite me!" He said holding his hand as if he was injured.

Egon only snorted in amusement "Well, that is what you get for messing with his food." He said "He's territorial." Peter only rolled his eyes and went back upstairs muttering something about 'Scout was a hazard to society'

___________________________

*When he met Jenine and Winston, Scout was more willing to talk to them when he first met them

*Jenine was like a sister to him. They would often gossip with each other while things where slow

*Winston was on Scout's good side mainly because he was both considerate of his boundaries and was more reserved

*Overall, it was chaotic most days but it was a welcomed chaos and nobody would change it for anything else in the world

#ghostbusters #peter venkman #egon spengler #ray stantz #oc #original character #sibling shit #headcanon

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

Note

Could I please request Usopp and reader (she) fighting bc she risked herself to save him and he’s conflicted? But in the middle he confesses and all. Sorry if it is too specific! Basically angst with happy ending. Fighting/making up and confessing pls.

(Also, sorry if this sounds stupid, but could you say if you will or wont write this? Both are ok and pls do take your time if you do!!! I’m just a rlly anxious person and would like to know!)

hihi ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა i love usopp so much so this request makes me very happy <3

1.5k words, fem reader, sfw, angst angst angst & some fluff/comfort (as fluffy as i can get it, ok); no warnings except usopp is a terrible liar and we all knew this going in

stretching your fingers out in front of you and wiggling them to show chopper that you still have motion in that hand, he finally gives you his doctorly stamp of approval, dismissing you from the room with a simple wave. all things considered, it’s a miracle you’re still alive — something that the others remind you of when you finally came to. you’re not normally this reckless, but you reacted faster than logic could reason with you. still, you don’t regret it; saving one of your crew mates is a simple matter to you, after all.

it’s cowardice that prevents him from visiting you right away; he pays nami to give him updates, and while she pockets the money happily, she reminds him that it will be much better if he talks to you personally. but what she doesn’t understand, is that he has too many things he wants to tell you, and knows that if he doesn’t say them properly, your relationship might never bet the same. he paces around his room all night, sleep eluding him, his thoughts obsessively trampling over one another, fighting for dominance.

because you were asleep for a few days, you refuse to keep your eyes shut — besides, you’re not actually tired. tiptoeing through the corridors, you leave the comfort of your room in search of usopp. he’s been avoiding you, even if he doesn’t want to openly admit it. the thought makes you sad, so you decide to talk to him about it, wanting to get to the bottom and make sure that things are alright between you. out of everyone in your crew, you get along with him the most — he’s practically your best friend, so it makes sense that you want to see him, right?

your knocks are soft, but because it’s so quiet on the ship, he hears them loudly. you’re certain you heard him give you the okay to come inside, so you turn the handle and enter without issue, grinning when you see him just as awake as you are. the only difference is that he looks a bit more tired, where you have too much energy.

“where have you been?” you ask as you make yourself comfortable on his bed; you once joked that his mattress was better than yours and that you’d prefer to sleep there than in your room — he stammered and blushed hard enough to make him want to faint. you, meanwhile, found his reaction so cute and amusing that you couldn’t stop the giggles from slipping out of your mouth. teasing him like that is your forte, so you fully expect to tease him now, despite how serious he’s being with you.

usopp turns to face you, standing a few feet away, eyelids lowering as he takes in your appearance. you’re alive and whole, that’s all that matters — so then why does he feel his chest constrict every time he replays that fateful moment where you nearly lost your life to save him (from his own incompetence, nonetheless)? his brows furrow together and the frown he sports seems to be a permanent fixture on his face as he regards you critically.

“why?” he says after a long, drawn out moment. “you could’ve died.” he crosses his arms against his chest, making you sit up on his bed; you’ve never seen him this firm before, it’s almost like he’s a different person.

“well i didn’t, isn’t that all that matters?” you offer as a light rebuttal, hoping to make him laugh again, not liking the way he’s looking at you one bit.

your flippant response flips a switch in his mind, his irritation over the situation bursting out of him without restriction. “that’s not the damn point and you know that.” if he could shake your shoulders he would, but he knows that you should still be resting — besides, he’s not that kind of a brute.

“relax, usopp. it’s really not a big d—”

“it is a big deal. a big fucking deal, in case you didn’t notice.” his voice comes out much louder than he means for it to, and you close your eyes, take a deep breath before trying again.

because you feel like you’re being blamed for something that wasn’t really in your power to stop, you also start to raise your voice. you need him to see reason, to understand that while yes what you did was reckless and yes you could have died, but you didn’t. that’s really all that matters to you. “you’re stuck on the details, and i get that, but it doesn’t matter. i’m alive, and in case you haven’t noticed, you are too dummy.”

letting out a frustrated sigh, usopp runs his hands down his face, the accompanying sigh only fueling your annoyance.

“also, let’s be clear, you’re the only damn person here with an issue, so i’d like you to get over yourself.” you don’t mean to be harsh, but his actions and words are leaving you with uncomfortable feelings that you can’t quite sort through just yet.

“you don’t get it,” he says under his breath before he starts pacing again.

you roll your eyes and hop off of his bed, hands grabbing onto his arm to halt his movements. “so, help me to understand. we’re friends, remember? you can tell me anything.”

the words strike a chord with him, and while he’s still very much upset that you have very little regard for your own safety, he understands that he’s not being exactly fair. usopp swallows hard, conflicted over what to do. if he tells you how he feels, he runs the risk of exposing the most vulnerable part of himself. but if he doesn’t, you might drift apart and he’d hate for that to happen.

“it’s…well, it’s because you’re important.” your brows raise at that, but he clarifies afterwards. “to everyone, i mean. y’know, important part of the crew and stuff.” his excuse is lame, but it’s all he has, all that his mind will let him say, all that his heart will allow him to confess. but he forgets how intuitive you are, and that being friends with you means he can’t exactly lie how he pleases.

“hmm… is that all?” you blink up at him, your stare intense, cheeks flushing and making things more difficult than necessary. your thumb rubs against the skin on his forearm and he almost loses his nerve entirely.

“yes—no. no, that’s not all.” heart pounding faster, he decides to take the plunge and rip the bandaid off quickly. “i… you’re important to me too. i don’t know what i’d do if you died.” he knows he’d never recover from it. despite finding it difficult to look at you, usopp soldiers on, wanting to just get enough off of his chest so you can understand his predicament. “i like you. a lot. more than a lot, maybe. i don’t know.” he’s rambling, but you don’t dislike that about him. and it puts things in perspective for you, but you don’t say anything just yet — which makes him nervous. before he can find a way to weasel out of the hole he’s found himself in, you put him out of his misery.

“well, i’m glad you finally told me. i was wondering how long you’d take.” it’s laughable, really, but you refrain from laughing so you don’t scare him away.

“oh, great,” he groans, glancing at you from underneath his long lashes, “so you already knew.” his mind spirals at that, not letting him have any peace, but you stop him before he goes too far.

“i mean yeah, i knew. everyone sort of does,” you confess, which only makes him shrug out of your grasp so he can flop down on his bed and bury his face into his pillow. his life is over, he’ll never be able to face anyone else again, maybe he’ll just run away and—

“but,” you add, climbing onto the bed with him, draping your limbs over his body lazily, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him, “that doesn’t matter, wanna know why?”

he mumbles something incoherent, so you tug on his ear hard enough to make him turn and face you. “why doesn’t it matter, y/n?” if you’re going to reject him, he hopes you do it as gently as possible, he doubts his heart can take anymore pummeling tonight.

“because you’re important to me and i like you too. like, a lot. maybe more than a lot.” as you repeat his words back to him, he buries his face into the pillow again, unable to tolerate the way his mind is spinning, unable to stop the smile that leaps onto his face. and you, being impossibly you, curl up next to him, also smiling because it seems the cloud over his head has finally disappeared. you spend some time twirling one of his curls around your fingers gently, the sensation putting him to sleep rather quickly. you decide to spend the night there, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as you can, until the complications of life catches up with you in the morning.

#fic request #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #usopp x reader #god usopp #usopp x y/n #one piece angst #one piece fluff #one day usopp will be a brave man; today is not that day

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slothquisitor · 9 months

Text

Between the Lines

The three times that Liv left Astarion books, and the one time he gave her one. Or, what if I desperately tried to write a cute fluffy book exchange and then it became more about working through trauma? Astarion x tav, 2500 words.

Also on AO3.

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Astarion likes the quiet evenings at camp best. Sure, the ever looming threat of turning into a mind flayer hangs over them all, but otherwise, it’s quite peaceful. There are plenty of books about, and so he spends most of his evenings reading. It is…strange. To have the freedom to do whatever he would like, to a point, they are out in the middle of nowhere after all. But these small moments, small decisions, they’re his. How he wants to spend his time, what book he wants to read, if he wants to participate in conversation or not, they’re his. For the first time in two centuries, he has those small freedoms.

He can’t remember if he was much of a reader before Cazador turned him, but after, oh the only true solace he had was in books. He remembers when he first discovered the velocity of escape, the comfort of being someone else with other problems. It was so much easier to pass the long, bleak daylight hours stuck in Cazador’s palace when he had a book to read. It made everything easier. Each story was a place to retreat no matter how bad things became.

And retreat he did, often. He told himself stories while the lashes landed on his back. Told himself stories while trapped in the darkness alone. Retold tales of adventure and worlds and places he knew he would never see. He might never feel the sunlight on his skin again, but he could read about those who could. It was a pinprick of hope in the darkness.

At first, he kept the books a secret, smuggling them into forgotten corners and only reading them when he could ensure he was alone. The second that Cazador caught wind that Astarion might enjoy something, it was liable to be taken away. But as the years wore on, as he became more and more resigned to his fate, he stopped hiding the books. He read everything from poetry to histories to philosophy. At some point, he stopped reading stories. They stopped offering hope or comfort. It made him sick to read about a hero saving the day, about the world being saved when there was no hero coming for him, no world where he escaped Cazador’s grip on his throat.

Until now.

They find books everywhere. Astarion peruses the spines until he finds something interesting and slips it into his bag. Then he spends the night poring over its pages. It’s been years since he’s read anything fictional, anything fantastical, but something about the impending doom hanging over his head makes him care less than he used to. Maybe, a little hope here at the end of all things is okay.

Maybe this tadpole won’t turn him into just another type of monster. Maybe he can use it, maybe he can twist this all to his advantage, maybe he never has to be a puppet of Cazador’s whims again. He’s read enough stories to know that the power grabs belong to villains, but he’s long since stopped thinking himself a hero anyway. Heroes and villains die just the same as the next fool, and he’d rather survive.

It shouldn’t surprise him that he’s not the only bookworm in camp. Oh, he expected the two wizards to hoard books like dragons, but while Gale prefers arcane theory, Liv has a different collection. She seems to be like him, collecting stories instead. She has a neat little stack at her tent, and Astarion might have glanced at the spines, just to see what she might be reading. Not that he actually cares what she’s reading, this is about seduction, obviously. The better he knows his target the more success he’ll have.

It’s on one of those quiet nights at camp that she asks what he’s reading, the words soft, almost too quiet with the crackling fire between them.

He looks up from the well-worn pages. The other members of their group are elsewhere, sleeping or busy with their own distractions. It’s just the two of them at the fire now. He’s supposed to be seducing her, which means that this would be a good opportunity for him to move closer, to drop his voice just above a whisper so that she has to lean in to hear. It’s a dance he’s done a thousand times with a thousand different people; the music varies but the steps are the same. They work every time.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t move, then. Why he can’t seem to will himself through the pantomime tonight. He stays exactly where he’s at, reclined against a log. “Searching for Adze,” he replies without lowering the book.

“I’m not familiar with it. Is it any good?” she asks.

“Oh, it’s absolutely awful. The plot is basically nonsensical, but it went on enough about hammers I definitely believed it might have a bit more spice to make it worthwhile.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. The flirtation is half-hearted, Liv tends to ignore most of these remarks anyway. It’s partly infuriating, the way she gracefully side-steps his most overt flirtations. But there are moments when her interest is clear, like when she drew his portrait or any time he drinks from her neck. It’s happened three times now; not that he’s counting.

Liv smiles. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you enjoy smutty books.”

“Darling, everyone enjoys smutty books. Most books would be greatly improved with its inclusion. Including this one.”

“You should certainly pass that along to the authors of spell theory books. I’m sure they’d love the feedback.”

Liv’s humor is dry, a blink and you miss it sort of wit. He smiles. “And what are you reading?”

“Re-reading,” she corrects, “Tales from the Underground, an old favorite. With everything so uncertain, it’s nice to read something where I know the ending.”

Astarion understands that sentiment. When things were at their worst, when he was starving, or hardly able to think straight or clearly for the pain of suffering Cazador’s ire, a plot twist or a surprise ending felt crueler than a death sentence. He would instead take comfort in the stories he knew, in pages so well-worn he hardly needed to do more than skim the pages.

He’s familiar with her book, he enjoyed it, once. “I suppose there is a sort of comfort in knowing what happens next.”

Her green eyes are bright with the gratitude of being understood. “Yes. I…whenever life got difficult, I always found myself retreating back into a book. My problems usually look smaller than whatever world-ending thing is happening in a book.” She frowns. “It’s not working very well right now.”

Her admission rankles. He’s the most at peace he’s been in two hundred years. He wonders what could have ever been so bad in her little life of privilege that she’d need to retreat into a book. She hasn’t said much about her background, but he recognized her last name. She’s a noble, a diplomat’s daughter. Even without that information, he would have placed her accent as upper city anyway. But he’s never heard of her, which means she’s from places too bright and redolent with life for even Cazador to sully.

“Well, it’s not so bad; we’re not dead yet,” he stretches a bit, beginning to stand. He can tell she’s going to talk more, is going to share things about herself and her life, and he doesn’t want to know those things. He doesn’t want to care. He is here to survive, to do whatever it takes, take whatever moments he must. But there is no seduction here, staying means talking, bonding, it wouldn’t be in the service of his plan. And it’s precisely why he can’t stay.

If she’s bothered by his exit, she doesn’t say. Just like she hasn’t said a word about the page he stole from her sketchbook. He’s sure she’s noticed it, he’s seen her sketching at night too. He wishes she’d say something, anything, but everything is the same as it has always been with her. She’s infuriatingly even-keeled, even under present circumstances. When she breaks, and she will, no one is this stoic, it will likely be dramatic. It will probably be entertaining.

A few days later, the first book appears. He’s been out hunting; he’s content, a little blood drunk, but sated, calm. Until he notices the book on the stool, and every bit of warmth and peace turns to ice. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous, that evidence of someone being around his tent while he’s away isn’t necessarily a portent for something bad. And yet, it takes all his courage to reach for the book. He turns it over in his hands, searching for some sign or message. The book is just a book, there is no note. An unfamiliar title, but from the cover and art within the first few pages, it’s an adventure novel.

He mistrusts the gift immediately. Cazador used gifts as much as the lash. There was always a message embedded. A gift might mean something good in the moment, but those moments were all too fleeting. He got better at reading their inherent messages with time, but he still remembers far too well the lessons learned when he didn’t. What’s the agenda here? What does someone in this camp want from him? Are they doing this on purpose, just to see him squirm? For the night, he sets the book aside.

The next night another appears. A few days later, another. Only this time, it’s Tales from the Underground, and the mystery of his book deliverer is solved. Liv has been leaving him books. But what he cannot fathom is why.

He gets his answer two days later, when he witnesses Liv give Karlach a stuffed owlbear as a friend for her teddy bear, Clive. Karlach can’t even touch the gift herself, since it’ll catch fire if she even walks too close to it, but she’s overjoyed. And there is no agenda. Liv doesn’t expect anything in return. She’s just being nice.

It’s disgusting really.

Astarion doesn’t want Liv’s niceness, though he supposes it must mean that part of his plan is working. If she’s being nice to him, then she won’t turn on him. What’s more infuriating than her niceness is that now he seems to be looking for a book to give to her. It’s an unconscious thing, really. But he can grudgingly admit that she does have fine taste. The books she’s anonymously deposited at his tent have been exactly what he would have picked for himself.

Besides, participating in this little book exchange is sure to win him enough favor with her to buy him safety. So he doesn’t really know why it takes him so long to settle on a book. But finally, he does.

It’s another quiet night at camp; no devils have appeared to collect debts, and hells, Gale isn’t even eating magic boots. Liv and Shadowheart had spent some time at the fire, drinking wine for a while, but now Liv’s at her tent alone. She seems to be working on something, spellbook open and components scattered across a small table.

“It’s a lovely evening,” he says by way of greeting.

She glances up from her work, and seems surprised to see him standing there. He supposes that’s because she’s usually the one that comes to speak to him. “It is. Everything all right?”

There’s a small hint of suspicion in her eyes; she’s clearly trying to read him, his intentions. Fair enough. He’s not exactly innocent here. He holds up the book in his hand. “I brought you something.”

Her entire face brightens. “Really?” She seems genuinely surprised, and thrilled. For someone who likely grew up wanting for nothing, him bringing her a book surely couldn’t mean that much. Could it?

Well, if it does, all the better for him, obviously.

He purposefully steps closer, turning to the side rather than head on. She’s skittish, he’s learned, and this way, she doesn’t put distance between them. He offers her the book. “This one is one of my favorites. If you haven’t read it, I’d be happy to describe to you what happens. Everything that happens. In great detail.”

There’s actually nothing particularly smutty in this story, this is just a line he thought up while looking for a book for her. It has the desired effect. She blushes as she reads the spine. “Thank you, I haven’t read this one. I take it that means you didn’t dislike the books I left for you?” And there’s the sidestep, the distance, but she hasn’t moved away, not yet.

“Darling, I simply adore gifts.Your little books were a welcome surprise.” The lie slips prettily off his tongue, even though he knows that she won’t miss the slight insult, as if the books meant nothing, just another trinket among trinkets. He’s not sure why it’s always this way with her. She is soft, gentle. If Liv has a hard edge he’s yet to find it, but he can’t seem to avoid trying to cut her all the same.

She retreats away, pressing the tips of her fingers into the corners of the cloth-bound cover. “You hadn’t said anything, so I wasn’t sure.”

Her guard is up now, it’s best to drop his routine rather than press her too hard. Which means it’s time for him to go. But something inside him can’t help but ask. “How did you know what I’d like?” The question comes out harsher than intended, but it’s too late to take it back now.

It’s clearly not the question she’s expecting from the way uncertainty quickly moves across her face. Gone in a flash, banished with a smile. “It wasn’t too hard, I saw some of the books you grabbed for yourself. I simply added the ones I knew that I thought were similar.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Ugh, nice people are so boring.

He represses a sigh. He’s turned an interaction that was supposed to be seduction into something that feels accusatory, so he knows he has to dig himself out of this, so he offers her bit of niceness in return. “I liked them. I liked them all quite a lot. I just didn’t realize I was so transparent, is all.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone of your very embarrassing penchant for adventure stories.”

“What else do I have out here, but my sordid reputation?”

She laughs at that. “I have some other books too, if you want to look through them. I wasn’t sure what you had or hadn’t read.”

Staying breaks every internal rule he’s made for himself, but he does stay. They talk books for a pleasant half an hour. He tells himself that he’s got an ulterior motive here, and that this is all in service to his grand plan. But later, when he’s alone in his tent, he might admit to himself that he stayed because he wanted to.

And he wonders for the first time if this plan of his is truly necessary. He discards the thought as quickly as it comes. This isn’t a story, there’s no happy ending coming unless he reaches out and takes it for himself.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate fic #fanfic #slothquisitorwrites #astarion x liv

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guiraguira · 1 year

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hi! i love your writings theyre soo cute… can i req ichiro x reader x nemu threesome? perhaps nsfw… i love those two so much

Three Little Lambs!✨

Thank you so much, honey ❤️!

Ah, your request is very cute too, I was thinking about how to do it and I think the best thing is that it be a fluffy fic! With some hc Nsfw. You can always re-order for this trio ❤️

Ichiro x fem reader x nemu!

° You spend a lot of time together, the three of you are so comfortable that you can hardly go more than a day without seeing each other. Both Ichiro's brothers and Samatoki know that the three of them usually spend their afternoons comfortable enjoying any hobby or in silence, just being in company that's enough for the three of you.

° Today was no different, spending the afternoon outdoors they had organized a picnic in a nearby stream. They left early in the morning, to make the most of the day. Sharing breakfast at his house and rejecting the jealousy of his brothers.

° Near the shore with a nice breeze that could barely cool them. They wade into the water knee-deep in water, playfully splashing each other, they're wearing bathing suits so they don't care how drenched they might get. Suddenly they hit the deep end and their easygoing game turns wild when they sync up for a competitive swim to a prominent rock. They are both much more athletic than you and must stop the race when they notice that you have difficulty following them.

° "ahh, y/o sorry!" Nemu tucks under your arm to help you float to shore. "I think I drink the two liters of water a day…" you cough at the end of the sentence and Ichiro also apologizes "come on, I'll carry you on my back" when you get on he changes his mind "And you too" Nemu laughs because he knows that this isn't It was going to be good, but he ignores her.

°against all odds he could with you. Instead of congratulating him, they begin to bother him by trying to tickle him and make him fall into the water. Something quite difficult because he is used to these types of attacks, you know well how to make him nervous, leaning on his shoulder, you pull him to kiss him on the cheek. Before he can even react Nemu pushes him into the water and he falls.

° he Sits, stunned for a second before trying to catch them. Running from him laughing, you stumble and drag Nemu down in your fall. Ichiro kisses each other's cheeks even though they twist so that I can't and cover his lips. Fulfilling his goal, he does the same with her.

° "Let's make a truce to eat ice cream" he extends his hands to help them lift and they take the opportunity to intertwine their fingers, the three of them walking hand in hand, they search the car for the portable refrigerator discovering that there are only two ice creams. In a quick exchange of glances, he offers the sundaes to you.

° "oh don't be an idiot, we can all eat" you say giving him one and sharing yours with Nemu. "It's not fair! I want to share too" exchanging ice creams, the sticks rotate in his hands several times.

° "it's falling!" Grabbing Ichiro's hand, you eat the last piece that was about to fall, biting down on the chopstick. "Hey! That was my favorite taste" the white-haired girl groans, kissing you trying to recover some of the remaining taste. You blush covering your face but that doesn't stop them from laughing at you.

° slowly the afternoon light is darkening and it is getting time to return. Lying in the shade of a tree, you and Ichiro have their heads in Nemu's lap. She gently strokes both of their hair, making them almost fall asleep. Your eyelids open less and less frequently, but you wake up when you feel another hand on your cheek, it is he who kisses you delicately in silence and then her.

° Breaking the harmony of Nemu's caresses, to throw himself on his back and accommodate the two of you in his arms, firmly pressed against him. His rhythmic heartbeat and his rhythmic breathing indicate that he too was about to fall asleep.

° The heat is no longer an impediment to this nap. Now the weak cold breeze invites you to enjoy this moment without problems and despite the fact that darkness is already practically present, you cannot break this peace. Giving in to the warmth and comfort, they sleep peacefully in his affectionate arms.

Nsfw

° In general, your interactions are quite smooth, the one who has control of you is the white haired one. Teasing them until they can't take it anymore, with kisses that become more and more heated.

° The easiest to arouse is Ichiro, with just a few caresses on his abdomen and a few kisses on his neck, you can feel his growing erection asking for attention.

° When you two get daring, mounting your thighs in search of pleasure, touching his glans between the two of you and alternating kisses with each other. He easily gets carried away, becomes totally vocal, whimpering into you and rocking his hips into his hands.

° Likewise, you and Ichiro enjoy pleasuring her, licking her entrance at the same time, joining their tongues in kisses full of fluids under her watchful eye, struggling to keep her legs in place as they threaten to close on you several times. times, pulling them closer as she contracts her walls, shivering at the sensation.

° With you they are the same, maintaining your position on all fours over Nemu she concentrates on your breasts, forcing you to get closer to her, while he works on your entrance occasionally using his fingers looking for your point. Forget about keeping your sanity.

° Most of the time Ichiro takes each one separately, giving them the attention they deserve before all three go into action at the same time. With one of you bouncing on his dick while the other rides her face. Just moans and gasps and wet slaps.

° So much time shared by you already know that the other likes it, so you can spend a lot of time playing teasing each other, but without reaching orgasm. Until one breaks, unable to take it anymore and is dominated by the other two.

° Very rarely do they get Ichiro to be Dominant, but when he is, he usually leaves you shaking until the other day, with they throat sore from panting, allowing him to do whatever it takes with you. They become totally submissive, enjoying the change of roles.

° You two are more insatiable than him, so when he can't take it anymore, he makes himself comfortable to see how his girls continue with each other, touching and pampering each other until they are satisfied. They love to do this just for him to see.

° After all the action, they simply enjoy cuddling, mixing their bodies looking for the comfort and comfort of the other. Giving each other compassionate caresses and kisses, they don't care how sticky they are. They need to be like this, cleaning can wait.

° They just need to share this moment for a longer time, being in this way makes them feel so comfortable and united that they have no problem falling asleep if they are neglected .

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic x reader #hypmic #hypmic imagines #hypmic headcanons #hypnosis mic x reader #ichiro yamada x reader #hypmic ichiro #ichiro x reader #buster bros #nemu aohitsugi #nemu aohitsugi x reader #Nemu hypmic #chuuoku #hypmic smut

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