#Grace talks about fanfics she likes

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Ghosts are real and your no-longer-dead older brother has identity issues over them by itsrecycledcactus is SUCH a neat fic I am telling you-

Like!!! It’s a modern AU, but it actually incorporates elements like Ghostbur, Wilbur’s revival, Phil’s wings, Ranboo’s oreo-ness, and a lot more—which modern AU’s never do, because… those things don’t fit into modern AU’s very well lol

BUT THIS IS DARN COOL!!! IT WORKS SO WELL!!! AAAAAH MODERN AU GHOSTBUR MY BELOVED!!!

Author also has a very good grasp on Wilbur, specifically Wilbur after revival. It’s just��� aaaaah it’s immaculate.

Now I will share some of my favorite bits from the fic :)

In short, it’s a wonderful story and I’d highly suggest reading it!!

Just a heads up though: it’s a bit disjointed, and the author mentioned that it doesn’t really have… a plot? It’s more of a bunch of scenes from the same AU all mashed into one fic, so it flows a bit odd.

That being said, it’s really really good and the AU is incredibly interesting :D

[monsterhunting]

we have someone temporarily filling in at work rn while we’re understaffed and we were talking about books and this girl straight up told me she reads a lot of fanfiction. i was like “oh???? well. okay. i also do.” which is not normally something i admit to irl (except for with close friends. and my mom and my sister) but since she brought it up first i was like well maybe we can bond?????? so i’ve been testing the waters….. then tonight she tells me she reads (and writes!!!!!) wattpad stories about f1 driver. not even, like, f1 gay rpf. its self insert OC x f1 driver fanfic… i was like… oh. that kind of fanfiction

[howcouldmuffin]

Beneath the Betrothal.

After the engagement was announced, and you realized that waiting was no longer the right path, you decided to start anew.

PAIRING : Jacearys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : NSFW, Targaryen incest, Non-canon, SMUT, Sex Content

AN : This is the first fanfic l've written. I apologize if there are any mistakes. Please feel free to give me any feedback. Love.

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

Many years have passed since your father Viserys announced the betrothal to Jacaerys, who although your nephew, is older than you. No one in House Hightower was pleased with this news, except for you.

You were raised differently from your siblings—the youngest daughter born with your father’s expectations. He had you share the same wet nurse as Jacaerys and your older brother Daeron. You grew up with the Velaryon family, witnessing the differences between your eldest sister Rhaenyra and your mother Alicent.

Although you had been friends with Jacaerys since childhood, the words that everyone kept telling you “that you would marry him” filled your mind with dreams. You fell in love with him, but you knew that he didn’t love you the same way. He was a charming young man, a gentleman with honor, admired by all. Many were fond of him. The prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

When Rhaenyra ascended to the throne, everyone swore oaths of loyalty and service to her without question. Many lords came to pay their respects to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jacaerys was appointed as the heir to the Iron Throne, and your betrothal was announced once again, but it was never mentioned again after that.

At first, you thought it was just a matter of waiting for things to settle down before the important ceremony would take place. But as time went on, you began to question it, and eventually, you found the answer. It was Jacaerys who requested that the wedding be postponed. You were shattered by this news—it hurt as though your heart had been broken into pieces.

There have been months of silence and unspoken words between you and Jacaerys. Even the gatekeepers of the Red Keep are aware of the situation. The whispers and rumors have started to grow louder—some say the prince already has someone he wishes to marry, or perhaps he dislikes his betrothed because she is a Hightower. None of the answers bring you any truth.

But it has made you realize that waiting is no longer the right course of action. It’s time to start looking for potential suitors from great houses. Soon, there will be a grand event at the Red Keep once again—the second-year anniversary of Queen Rhaenyra’s reign. Nobles and knights from all over the realm will gather here. It could be a good opportunity to find a new way forward.

“I wish to see my queen.” you said to the knight guarding your sister’s chamber door. They nodded slightly and stepped aside to let you enter.

“Your Grace.” you said as you entered the room, immediately curtseying to the queen. “If it pleases you, I have something I wish to discuss.” Rhaenyra paused her writing and looked up.

“Sister.” she said, rising and walking towards you. “What is it you wish to speak with me about?” The queen gently led you to a nearby sofa and lightly took your hand.

“I’ve come to talk about my betrothal to the prince.”

“If you’d like to discuss how you’d like the ceremony to be arranged, or if there’s anything additional you’d like to request, you can speak to me directly.”

“No, Your Grace. I… I wish to call off the engagement.”

“Oh, dear, why would you want to cancel the betrothal? Have you found someone you prefer?”

“No, Your Grace. I just think it might be better if the prince and I were free to choose someone we truly like and love.” Rhaenyra laughed softly at your words. She raised her hand to cup your face, gently turning you to look into her eyes. You lifted your hand to hold hers in return.

“Listen to me, dear. There’s no one more suited to be the next queen than you. Don’t let others’ words sway you.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I truly wish to call off the engagement. Please, I ask you to consider it.” You gently moved her hand away from your face, holding it firmly in yours.

“If that is what you desire, I will take it under consideration. But I ask that you think it over once more, my dear.” After expressing your wishes, you moved to embrace your sister, always understanding her no matter what.

Before long, the grand celebration was in full swing, with people gathering to offer their congratulations to their queen. Today, you woke up much earlier than usual. You were an integral part of organizing the feast—the floral decorations, the guest list of important attendees. You were determined to ensure that your sister’s special day would go smoothly.

The dress you wore today was long and red, with an off-the-shoulder design that revealed your neckline. It was beautifully embroidered with golden patterns around the dress. Your hair was partially braided and pinned up, with natural curls left to fall gracefully. You glanced at the necklace on your vanity table—the one Jacaerys had given you for your birthday many years ago. In the end, you chose not to wear it, opting instead for another necklace that matched your dress just as well.

“You look stunning, Princess.” your handmaiden remarked as she finished styling your hair.

“Thank you. You can leave now, I’ll take care of the rest myself.” She curtseied and left the room as instructed.

You slowly turned to the mirror, gazing at your reflection for a moment before preparing to head to the feast. By now, your mother was likely waiting for you. But as the door closed behind your handmaiden, you sensed someone else was in the room.

“What were you thinking, trying to call off the engagement?” Jacaerys spoke, his voice sharp. He was the last person you wanted to see right now. It was the first conversation in months that left a lasting impression.

“Prince.” you greeted him with a curtsey. “I just thought—” He stepped closer to you, so close that it nearly took your breath away. He looked angrier than you could ever remember seeing him.

“Is there someone else you’re in love with?”

“No, Your Highness.” you replied.

“Let’s go. The others must be waiting for us.” he said, lifting one arm. At first, you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you placed your hand on his arm.

Walking into the feast together might be normal for a married couple or an engaged pair, but it felt strange for the two of you, who hadn’t exchanged a meaningful word in so long. As you entered the great hall, you could feel the eyes of many upon you and your betrothed.

Everyone stood to pay their respects to you and their prince, creating an odd pressure on you. Jacaerys looked every bit the heir to the Iron Throne today. His attire included a cloak with a pattern matching your dress, likely arranged by Rhaenyra.

When you reached the queen’s table, you both bowed to the highest authority in the realm before going your separate ways. He sat beside his brother Lucerys, while you took a seat next to your brother Aemond.

“Beautiful dress, sister.” Aemond’s comment was more likely a tease than a compliment.

“Thank you, brother. I think it’s lovely as well.”

The feast began after Rhaenyra’s announcement, and the music started to play. People began to dance in the center of the hall. Conversations with your siblings took place, and although they didn’t think highly of your betrothed, they chose not to voice any further objections.

“Would you like to dance, sister?” Daeron, your youngest brother, asked. Why not? He was as renowned for his looks in the family as you were. Although you hadn’t grown up together much, he was the second person you consulted about your betrothed, after Helena.

With the music playing, you and your brother enjoyed the dance. As the Westerosi-style dance continued, many people joined in with you. Dancing gave you the opportunity to talk with a variety of men. Some were genuine friends, but most had other intentions beyond mere friendship.

“I think it would be the greatest mistake on your part to let her go.” Rhaenyra said to her son, who had been staring at you intently, prompting her to speak up.

“What are you talking about?” Jacaerys turned his attention to his mother, confusion evident on his face.

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” she said, meeting his gaze. “If you don’t truly care for her, then let her go. She deserves to find someone who truly loves her.” He remained silent, not responding, and merely finished his drink.

He stood up from the table and left the feast abruptly. With so many people in the hall, no one seemed to notice the prince’s departure. Now, Jacaerys was at a loss, angry with you for reasons he was struggling to address. He was searching for a way to make you pay for what you had done to him.

Once the door to your room closed behind you, you had just returned from the feast. Separating yourself from the men had left you quite exhausted, and you were eager to take a relaxing bath.

“Did you enjoy getting close to other men who aren’t your betrothed?” A familiar voice spoke up. You were startled to hear him, Jacaerys was sitting on your bed, glaring at you with a reprimanding look.

“How did you get into my room?” you asked, and moving closer to him. “When did you ever care that I’m your betrothed?”

“I’ve always cared about you, but what I know is that you haven’t shown any interest in me.”

“No interest, you say?” You stepped closer to him and leaned in. “I wouldn’t be asking to postpone the wedding if I didn’t care.”

“I care about you!” he shouted, making you jump. He had never acted this way towards you before. He stood up and approached you.

“And wanting to postpone the wedding means you don’t want to marry me, doesn’t it? What are you trying to say? If you hate me, just say it, Jacaerys Velaryon. I will not tolerate your mind games any longer.”

“You don’t understand me.” he said, stepping closer. You backed away in response. “I want you to be ready, ready to bear my children. If we marry, producing an heir will come first, and I know if you were to become pregnant too soon, it would be you who would leave me.”

With no space left to retreat, you and he were face to face. He placed one hand on the back of your neck, holding your gaze, while his other hand gently caressed your face.

“Listen to me. I have always loved you, and I will continue to love you until the day I die. You are the only one who makes me feel like myself, who I constantly long for. You will be the only one by my side.” His eyes, looking at you, were so beautiful.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

You didn’t respond but immediately leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back without hesitation as well. Both of you embraced each other as if you were missing warmth from one another. The taste he gave you was sweet and surprisingly addictive. He treated you with reverence and gentleness.

The physical connection between the two of you came together quickly as if drawn by opposing magnetic forces. You and he slowly walked towards the bed. Jacearys gently lifted you onto the bed and stood beside it. Both of you looked at each other for a moment before he slowly began to remove his outer shirt.

“Don’t tear my clothes.” you said, seeming to have less patience than him. You slowly removed your dress, leaving only the sheer undergarments. He chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss your neck, moving from your collarbone to your chest, your stomach, and the center of your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked. “If we stop now, you might not regret it.” He ran his finger along the waistband of your underwear, the small piece that was covering you at the moment. He kissed your stomach again, followed by your collarbone and neck.

“We’ve come too far to stop now.” you said. “Please, my prince.” You placed your hand on his hair, marveling at its natural waves. The prince slowly removed the sheer garment that covered you

“You are so beautiful, perfectly suited for me.” he said, kissing your chest. His other hand gently squeezed it, leaving the imprint of his fingers. He nipped at your nipple and licked it slowly. Your desire surged, and you craved even more.

He slowly used his hands to remove your small panties. Soon, heaven was revealed before him. His hands parted your legs, and he leaned down to taste the sweetness between your thighs. His nose brushed against your clit, driving you nearly insane.

You moaned, "Please, my prince, I need more." You were now very wet. Jacearys, undoubtedly aware, playfully teased your little cunt with his tongue, and the lewd sounds echoed throughout your bedroom.

“What do you want, beautiful?” he asked, using his other hand to play with your erect nipple.

“I want you, Jacearys.” you moaned again. He fuck you with his fingers in your sweet cunt. His fingers pushed deeper inside you while his mouth licked at your clit.

“Who do you belong to?” he murmured, then turned to mark your thigh instead.

"I am yours." you breathed heavily. "Yours, Jacearys." Soon, your moans rose again, your body convulsing slightly as it tightened around his fingers.

"Look at what you've done to me, how hard it is." He slowly took off his pants, showcasing his erect state. He stroked it once or twice and then slowly entered.

"Oh, fuck." he moaned. "It's so tight." He stayed inside for a while and then gradually moved his body so that you wouldn't feel pain.

“Such a sweet cunt” He kept accelerating his hip rhythm, the impact sounded all over the room, wondering how someone was guarding the door of the room today, he knew what you and our prince was doing.

The time that passes each minute is precious to you now. You feel that you are very sensitive even if it is just a little touch. But you can't deny how much you like it every time you feel him in your own body.

“I'm very close.”

“At the same time”

White drops also dripped out of him. He pushed himself deeper into you. The moans of the couple said very well. He cum inside of you, your irregular breathing and he touched each other's skin.

He leaned down to kiss you again, sweeter than ever before. His hair fell down around you, creating an incredibly seductive scene. One of your hands gently caressed his cheek. You needed nothing more when he was by your side.

“I am yours, and you are mine, Whatever may come.” He whispered

“I am yours, and you are mine, Whatever may come.”

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

So I just read your fix about Creator!reader reading a fanfic ‘bout them and it gave me an idea. Like HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT-…

Creator!reader reading a spicy/smut fanfic about them, but in reality, Creator!reader is asexual?? IT WOULD BE AMAZING

lmaoooo can imagine the creator reading smut with a straight face just out of curiosity, entertainment or amusement only to be someone who is asexual.

Imagine Creator! Reader sitting on a chair, reading what seemed to be a book. The book was titled 'That time I had a one night stand with the Creator.', the plot was... Interesting to say the least.

It was a fanfiction containing the reader meeting the Creator under a cherry tree or whatever cliche bullshit the author thought off that ended with whoever the reader was and you, the Creator, banging.

It was just a normal day... The sun was out... You were out having an outdoor lunch along with the Archons and some of the Acolytes. But... Instead of eating you decided to just read the fanfic smut. You were curious as to what it would contain, what people thought of you in that way.

The Archons and Acolytes were all talking while you had the book placed on your lap where no one could see it... But... Imagine Creator! Reader having a habit of reading some words outloud...

"And... The wetness... Thrust... Tongue deep into my ass..." you mumbled. Everyone paused, as if time froze. A majority of them knew those words... those lines... BECAUSE THEY READ THAT BOOK SECRETLY IN THEIR SPARE TIME!!

Venti froze, before choking on his wine. Zhongli cleared his throat. Raiden Ei just looked around, a little confused. Mauvuika shook her head, finding this situation a little ridiculous but funny. Neuvillette nearly spat out the Natlan water he was tasting.

Kinich was side eyeing everyone while Ajaw laughed in the background, Ajaw was about to comment something but Kinich was quick to shut him up. Lyney on the other hand just cleared his throat while his ears were red. Childe tried his hardest to hold in his laugh, only plastering a trembling smile on his face. Wanderer scoffed, as if he didn't read the book too. Yae Miko's eyes widened as she hid her face with a fan, trying her best to not laugh.

You looked up at everyone, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?" you asked. "You-Your Grace... That book..." Zhongli cleared his throat. "Oh? This? It's interesting... But it isn't exactly a good potrayal of me. I'm not that crazy about sex." you said so nonchalantly that everyone got a whiplash.

Safe to say that word spread fast, smuts were now BANNED as the public deemed they weren't an accurate potrayal of the Creator. Authors who try to publish smut about the creator as publicly shamed too, although the public had a secret desire or fantasy of being with the Creator intimately, they still respected the fact that it isn't something the Creator would want.

[amirasainz]

Hello I am a huge fan of this fanfic your doing, but can I please request, the grid watching a spicy scene of her show? Or her in a body suit type like the picture below? I think Carlos reaction would be funny

Of couse! I had so much fun writing this! My request are OPEN and feedback is always welcome.

-XoXo

The unexpected red-flag

The conference room fell into stunned silence as the rain drummed relentlessly against the windows. The TV murmured in the background, its volume turned low, but it was the soft, melodic voice of Amira Sainz that cut through the quiet.

News had spread like wildfire: Baby!Sainz, the beloved sister of Carlos, would grace the third season of the renowned Netflix series “Narcos”. The drivers, usually a rowdy bunch, now sat in hushed anticipation. For Carlos, this was more than just excitement; it was a lifeline. His sister’s return to the family was long overdue, and the chance to witness her artistic brilliance on screen made his heart swell.

Yet, their busy lives as racers left little room for leisure. Days blurred into nights, filled with data analysis and the adrenaline rush of the track. But fate intervened during the red flag at Spa, where the heavens unleashed torrents of rain. The perfect opportunity arose: why not start watching “Narcos” during this unexpected break?

Surprisingly, it was Yuki who suggested it. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he proposed the idea, met with a chorus of enthusiastic “yeah’s” and “omg, yes!” from the other drivers. Carlos and Oscar, absent at the moment, would soon join the impromptu viewing party.

And so, they embarked on their journey into the world of drug cartels, corruption, and intrigue. They skipped scenes where Amira wasn’t present, eager to witness her talent firsthand. But little did they know that the next scene would unravel secrets and twists they never anticipated.

Let's just say Amira Sainz looked good with and without clothes. Throughout her spicy scene, the drivers were so silent. They all looked at her dreamily on the TV when she kissed the guy and started taking of her clothes and-

"¡Eh, estúpidos idiotas! ¿Qué demonios estáis haciendo? ¡¿Por qué demonios estáis viendo a mi hermana desvestirse?!" questioned an angry Carlos. As soon as he saw his little sister on the TV he went into full overprotective big brother mode.

Instantly, Logan shot back, “It’s not what it looks like,” while Fernando chimed in with a soothing “Hermano, you have to calm down.” Meanwhile, Lance attempted diplomacy: “Carlos Boy, we can talk like adults.”

The other drivers rallied, attempting to quell the hot-blooded Spanish driver. But amidst the chaos, Oscar slipped away, drawn by curiosity. He cornered Lando, who was practically bursting with excitement.

“I can’t believe I missed this. How was it?” Oscar leaned in, eager for details.

Lando’s eyes sparkled. “Oscar, you should have heard her speak Spanish. And her hair���oh, her hair falls down her back like—” His words were cut short.

“LANDO NORRIS! STOP TALKING ABOUT MY SISTER, YOU CREEP!” Carlos’s voice thundered across the room, drowning out the rain and the TV.

From the commentator box outside, a muffled sound reached their ears—a high-pitched scream. Lando Norris, usually unflappable on the track, had met his match in Carlos’s protective fury.

[tojifile]

Kibutsuji Muzan: Reincarnation

You're back..

Genre: Romance // Muzan x oiran!reader

⚠️: prostitute!reader, suggestive, kidnapping, not fully consensual

A/N: My first non-bsd fanfic !! I'm super happy about it, I read about an oiran and the differences in social classes at 12AM, it was like reviewing for my history class again. It was a lot of late-night reading so if there's misinformation please inform me immediately !!

INSPO: pinejayy

It was a well-lit and busy night, as it always was in the entertainment district. Little did everybody know the demon king—Kibutsuji Muzan was in their midst, walking along the streets, blending in with the loud crowd.

A procession was about to start, all eyes would be on the oiran—dragging her geta on the ground as she walked. The oiran on this particular night was none other than, you. Your scent was immediately picked up by Muzan. It was the same scent he had grown to love, from the person he had lost to time.

His interest was piqued the moment he picked up your scent. His gaze traveled far, trying to find the source of the scent. His gaze then landed on you, he watched you as you walked with such grace, you were as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Muzan lost you through the inevitable disease called time. You weren't willing to become a demon—instead, you promised him that you would find eachother in each lifetime and it will all end the same, with you in his arms.

You were given the name 'Minori' by the oiran who took you in as a child, starving in the unforgiving world of class and power. As an oiran you were known to be quite finicky. Although an oiran did have the right to choose who they would lay with, you were known for having not slept with anyone ever since you rose to your rank. Many men tried wooing you with their "looks" and "charm" but in the end you deem none of the worthy.

You were intelligent, beautiful, and skilled in various languages and arts. You were also a dear friend of Koinatsu, one of the most revered oiran in the Yoshiwara District. Muzan had heard about Minori before, from mundane gossip to papers of advertisement. He just didn't expect it to actually be you.

After seeing you walk, he spoke to Daki. He had released an order to his demons that you weren't allowed to be killed—instead, you had to be protected. Anyone who had protested against Muzan's order was immediately killed, without another word from their lifeless lips.

You had just gone back from the procession, you were quietly fixing up in your room, filling it with your presence. It was neither sweet nor destructive, it was just you. You were sitting in front of the mirror, fixing your hair until you saw a man appear behind you—you immediately stood up and looked back in fear.

Suddenly the room went dark, you couldn't see a thing. You then felt an eerie presence behind you—it was Muzan. He gently grabbed you from behind, by the waist and pulled you closer to him. "You're back.." he whispered in your ear.

It was strange, the man's touch was cold and his breath wasn't even slightly warm. Your body tensed up, "b- back..?." you nervously asked "Y/N.. I thought I'd never see you again.." he mumbled softly while one hand was secured on your waist, preventing further problems and the other hand lifting your chin to one side, granting him access to your neck.

'Y/N? Who was he talking about? I don't even know anyone named Y/N, maybe this was a new thing with men, maybe roleplay is quite popular nowadays, is this just a drunkard that wandered in my room?!' were the thoughts that ran into your head. You were too afraid to move, you didn't know what wrath would be brought down on you if you disobey.

Chomp he bit your neck, his fangs sunk into your neck, blood trickled down your skin, staining your carefully crafted kimono. You felt a sharp pain in your neck, you felt the blood trickling down your skin as well. He removed his teeth from your skin, letting the blood flow down.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as he stopped biting you, he turned you to him and wiped your tears away with his thumbs, a soft smile could be seen on his face. "Oh Y/N.. you used to love my bites.." he spoke with a sweet tone. You reached up for his hands "Who are you.. please stop.." You muttered, your fear was clear, you were trembling slightly as you held the back of his hands tightly. This made him angry, his grasp on you tightened and the soft smile on his face was replaced by an angry scowl.

He wasn't letting you go this time. You were going to live with him forever, he couldn't abide by your wishes. He needed you by his side, he wasn't going to play by the rules set by time and destiny.

You whimpered softly as he tightened his grip. His hands travelled back to your waist, pulling you in. You haven't fully grasped the events of the night. It was all too much.. how could he bite you like that? Who was Y/N? You looked at him through your tear-filled eyes and held onto his chest. "P- please.." you mumbled.

Muzan wasn't going to listen to reason, he let you have some of his blood to ensure that you'd stay with him forever. You were now a demon at his mercy. Although you didn't suffer the same curse the other demons did. Muzan wanted to hear you say his name, after not hearing it for centuries, he needed to hear it now.

You grasped his arms tightly as you felt yourself transform from a human to a demon. You felt your fangs and your desire for blood growing. You were still clearly competent but your body grew weaker due to the high concentration of his blood. Muzan picked you up, making sure you wouldn't be able to escape. "It doesn't matter if you don't remember me, in time you'll learn to love me again." He spoke with a cold tone. He then disappeared into the night sky with you in his arms.

Spontaneous post: 07/03/23 02:25AM GMT+8 Philippine Standard Time

[court-jobi]

Alexa, Play...

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24~used w permission))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader

Words: 1.6k

Rating: G~

Warnings: Southern US!GNreader, comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, language barrier, dancing-in-the-kitchen level self-insert

Summary:

Izuku comes home to spot your grocery list on the fridge written out in your native language- something he sees just as rarely as hearing you speak it. Just when he thinks he couldn't possibly find you more adorable, you strike a match and chuck it into his heart with a touch as simple as a peck on his cheek, a laugh thrown his way... or -like now- when you chat over the phone in an accent he never gets to hear. He wants to hear more so badly, and asks for it so sweetly.

A/N: a short n'sweet one today, folks, bc I was missing writing for this sweet green bean. I have yet to see MHA: You're Next, but have no one to see it with ughhhhh so off to writing fanfic to soothe the pain~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

You're on the phone with your mom when Izuku finds your sticky note for shopping on the fridge. His mindful shut of the door was appreciated by your mouthed apology, but let him know that he'd best occupy himself solo for a bit while you catch up. The time difference between your home country and here leaves your windows to chat limited, so he’s happy when your schedules align like this. 

If you'll be on a while longer, he thinks he can take a quick drive and pick up these few things for you. Inspired by the idea, he plucks the list out from the magnet’s hold.

You've got nice handwriting, a blend between printed letters and a tilted, cursive script. Personality shines especially near the end of a word, when you're rushing to move onto the next thought. 

Painter’s tape

bananas

white vinegar (stupid drain line)

It's so simple, but when it's written in your native language by default, it feels like a secret to be reading even something so simple as a list like this– scribbled out in the way as it appears in your head.

For most formal paperwork, your kana characters are decently executed, though it's always going to be harder when you grew up speaking Japanese rather than filling out lines and lines of bellwork in the kanji style. This isn't to say you've not been trying:

Over the course of your courtship, you've bonded with young Eri as an extension of Izuku's life and have inherited some of her early learning textbooks. You happened on them by accident, when you were helping her paint her room a few months ago. It sounded elementary when you expressed the interest to read and write Japanese better, and the sweet girl was so enthusiastic to help! 

She lent you her books, but of course you weren't becoming an expert overnight. However slow you’d pace yourself, Izuku was plenty proud of you for making the effort. He'd allow you as much grace as he could spare– especially since your notes were still so cute to find here and there~

Across the room, pacing along every other tile on the floor like stepping stones, you look up catching Izuku staring. You’ve been deep in conversation for only about an hour, but give him a wrench of your nose in jest, and begin wrapping up the call explaining that he’s home and you’d like to greet him properly. 

Izuku calls out a quick 'hi’ and ‘bye' to your mom when he motions to go on speaker; you're not one to refuse him, as he well knows. 

You seem pleased on more than one front when he asks to talk to your family, so he continues to do it. For one, you’re touched by how spirited he is to even want to interact with your mother, and his dropping of formalities and reverting to English to speak to her means a lot to you. Neither point is lost on sweet Izuku, based on how your smile brightens when he jogs over to you to be more in speaking range. 

When you hang up, you're quick to pop up and kiss him as a welcome home. Izuku hangs onto you a little longer than usual, thumb rubbing into your cheek as he savors you several times in quick succession. 

Just when he thinks he couldn't possibly find you more adorable, you strike a match and chuck it into his heart with a touch as simple as a peck on his cheek or a laugh thrown his way. 

“‘Zuku, what's that look for, babe?” 

In your sentimental bliss, you're still surprised to get such adoring treatment from him almost a year into a relationship. 

“Nothing,” Izuku chimes back, “I just forget that you're this American sometimes~”

“Whaddya mean, ‘you forget’?!” the concept sounds hilarious to you. 

“I do!” Izuku offers to take your phone to plug it in nearby, “I have to remind myself that Japanese isn't your first language, until I see you on FaceTime with your mom. Out of nowhere, I'll just hear you sound so different, like: ‘byyyye~ talk to y'all later’!”

You snort at his attempt at a southern accent– stiff and stuck on the wrong vowels. Clearly this succeeds in amusing you, because you hop up and down on the balls of your feet like you've discovered a new game:

“Oh my God, ‘Texas Smash Deku’ is the stuff of my fantasies!– oo!! say, ‘I’d like a honey butter chicken biscuit’~”

“WHAT?? N-no!!”

“What YES!! Please??”

Both doubled over in laughter, you're entertained over his thorough embarrassment, but you're both smitten and carefree: holding onto each other despite nearly buckling at the knees.

Izuku tries his best to catch his breathe first, determined to explain himself,

“I can't do it right! It's like- you say things- I don't know how to describe it! It's not just the flat, movie star accent.. It's–"

“What, a-- ‘drawl’? ‘Twang’?”

Izuku snaps at the realization.

“Yes!! That!! The country kind, like that chef you watch!”

You've rolled your eyes, stepping out of his kind hold in favor of checking out what takeout he brought home. 

“-Hey, no, come back!”

“‘Makin’ fun'ah my accent, I outta smack you’.”

You're far from really mad as you tote around the kitchen getting silverware and soy sauce, but Izuku follows you around like a shadow regardless. Eyes full of that puppy love, he does try to block you in from the pantry closet,

“I’m sorry, honey~”

“No you're not.” --but you're grinning out of forgiveness anyway.

Izuku sneaks a hold on you, reeling you in. It’s cozy in your shared kitchen, alight with just the right amount of overhead lighting and enough space for you two to stand and share tasks.

“I do like hearing you talk like that,” he shares contentedly, “It’s nice to listen to that side of you, especially when you have a lot to say.”

“Yeah well,” you turn into his arms, rather than away, “I'm sure you've noticed already, it comes from her side of the family. Guess I can't really ditch the accent whenever I switch back. The more I think about it… I'm gonna be happy if I can keep sounding like her as I get older. Lets me keep something of hers- even if my ‘dashing hero’ of a man over here thinks I'm being cheeky."

“No, I'm not teasing now! I mean it,” Izuku presses into you, “I only meant, you don't hold back or anything when you're chatty with her.”

He wonders if it stems from shyness, your avoidance of using too much English here at home. If you’re jamming out while doing chores -presuming you’re alone- you’ll switch the station once you know you have an audience.

“Not trying to hide it with you! I'm just out of practice here. No one else in our circle really uses English, so it doesn't come up, I guess.”

You make the point with a wistful aire. Occasionally you'll sub English classes as a favor to Izuku’s effervescent coworker at UA, but not often enough to get too much exposure. He's always been impressed with your Japanese diction, and thinks you could very well go into teaching if you ever wanted a career change.

Still, whether its for work or play, it’s a sound that’s intrinsically you, and there’s a magic to it that Izuku finds himself chasing. A secret power of yours, if he could only unlock it.

“--Plus, I don't think a lot of the slang translates over?” you get comfortable in his arms, locking your fingers behind his neck with no intention of leaving as you muse, “You guys have your own here, and that’s hard to figure out anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right.” 

Tenderly, you run your nails through his hair, a thoughtful look up to him, 

“Do you want me to use it more at home? Lay on the sugar for ya?”

A chance to hear you at your core? Watch your handwritten notes come alive?

“If you want-” Izuku softens, “-if you’re comfortable.”

“Can you understand me though?”

“I can hear you. It only gets hard when you get excited, ‘cuz you talk fast.”

You fuss back at him, “Oh, as if you don't.”

Caught under your hypocritical eye, he can only offer an honest chuckle back, “Fair~”

But for all of your feeling put on the spotlight, you seem to hold a soft spot for the way Izuku makes his requests:

“ ‘I guess I can indulge ya, since you asked so nicely.’ ”

–and it’s enough for him to try his hand to give you a linguistic sparring partner right back:

“ ‘Say something else.’ ”

All English flies out the window when he's looking at you like this, as you fall under a fit of nervous laughter, “What am I supposed to say?!” 

“ ‘Sing me a song, my love. Something 'twangy'.”

You giggled, "'Twangy', good Lord…” 

Izuku could write novels on everything from your finest features to even your most pensive insecurities, romanticizing each of them into a beautifully imperfect anthology. He does so in his mind, at least, when you’re barely lucid on the edge of sleep but still trying to engage him in meaningful conversation. He’ll do so in the notes on his phone, when he learns of yet another favorite token of yours, and wants to add it to the list of comfort measures he can refer to when you need it most.

And when you prompt Alexa to play your newly revealed ‘Karaoke hours that will never see the light of day’ playlist -the one that’s chock-full of female power ballads which you begin to sing your own rendition to-  Izuku is certain his mind nor fingers nor heart can catalog how much more he can possibly love you… though he’ll dance in place with you as he listens and soaks it all in.

[avocad1s]

What if for a sagau the creator (that got isekai'd) assumes they're the imposter because their blood isn't gold and kids keep running away from them

Just imagine the KoF or people from mond being so confused to why their creator is so on gaurd when they see them and runs away.

I definetly feel like it has to be one of the archons that somehow convince the creator that they won't do any harm to them

Note: Anon I got carried away with this and I am so sorry 💀 Reader is the Creator even though they don’t believe it. (at first)

All of the nations have their own protocols in place for your unexpected arrival in Teyvat.

No matter who finds you, they will be aware of what to do, even children.

All of the nations follow these three basic rules when it comes to you:

One: Approaching you and making sure that you are okay. They will also welcome you back to Teyvat.

Two: If you allow it, they will guide you back to the city of the nation you’re in. If you don’t, they’ll return themselves and inform whoever is in charge of your arrival.

Three: Notifying the other nations of your arrival.

This last rule may not be followed, it’s hard for them to control their selfish desires, they want to keep you to themselves for a little while!

However these rules are only followed by a majority of people, there a a few outliers. For example, the other nations do not want your first destination to be Snezhnaya. There’s no telling just how long they would keep it a secret, and their mind could only wander to the darkest scenarios if Their Grace was stuck in the grasp of the Fatui for too long.

When the Adepti made their contracts with Rex Lapis, within the contract was what they should do if you arrive. Even to this day, the Adepti will honor it even though Morax was no longer ruling.

The Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island also has her own idea on how to handle your arrival. Unlike everyone else, she used her incredible strategizing skills to prepare for any possibility that could happen once you arrive.

If the Abyss find you first… well all I can say is you don’t have to worry about them hurting you.

-

So back to your request.

The Knights of Favonius are confused why you kept running away, anytime they got close to you. Did you see them as threatening? They were trying their best to make you feel welcome in their nation but your terrified face anytime they came into view broke their hearts.

Albedo and Lisa would try and form a strategy to get close enough to you to talk to you. Venti would use his connection to the winds to find out where you are going.

Unbeknownst to them, you had accidentally cut yourself during your abrupt arrival and noticed… well nothing! Your blood was just as normal as it was before. That would’ve been fine if people didn’t try to walk up to you calling you their Creator and crying tears of joy because you returned.

You had read too many fanfics about the scenario and not having golden blood would only lead to bad things for you.

So you began running.

Once you had saw Klee, the most adorable in the Knights of Favonius, you knew that asking her for any information would be for the best. You couldn’t imagine a sweet girl like her causing you any harm.

But once she made eye contact with you she ran away. This only solidified in your mind that going to the city would be too dangerous for you. Especially if they find out about your blood.

(However Klee was just running away because Jean had told her to get an adult if she happens to run into you.)

The game of cat and mouse goes on for a while, but you were exhausted and couldn’t run away any longer. It wasn’t even just people of Mondstadt trying to find you anymore, there were other skilled fighters you recognized from other nations also trying to find you as well.

It made your blood run cold to think what they would do once they actually catch you.

“Your Grace! There you are!”

You let out a yelp quickly turning around to face the person who was talking to you, even though you recognized their voice.

Venti was breathing heavily as he gives you a small smile, behind him was Ei and Nahida.

This wasn’t good, you were surrounded by three Archons. You didn’t even want to think where Zhongli could be.

“Please don’t run away your Grace,” Ei says softly her face full of emotion. “We only want to help you.”

You try and take a step but your back hits the cold rock of the cliff above you, you truly were trapped.

Venti and Ei drop their weapons on the floor kneeling, Nahida does the same but she has no weapon to drop.

“We apologize if we have done anything to offend you Your Eminence,” Nahida begins her gaze on the ground, “you have been running away from us for weeks now, please allow us to tend to your needs.”

You try to ignore the pain in your body and how your mucky clothes stuck to your skin, you couldn’t let your guard down. They were just waiting for the perfect time to strike.

“Why are you calling me that, I’m not who you think I am.”

The three Archons exchange glances then look at you. “Umm forgive me for asking,but what do you mean you’re not who we think you are?” Venti asks.

You show the cut that was on your hand, it was lazily wrapped in a cloth that was also covered in dirt. A constant stinging could be felt in your palm, you knew that if you didn’t treat it soon, the wound would definitely get infected.

Once they see your wound, they immediately jump up and try to run to your side but the look on your face tells them they should stay right where they’re at.

“Your hurt!” Ei stammers, “please let us take you to a healer!”

You quickly shake your head, “I’m not the Creator! My blood…” you unravel the cloth revealing the dried up blood in your palm, “it’s red.”

It falls silent for a moment.

“Is there something wrong with that Your Grace?” Nahida says softly, “is it supposed to be something else?”

You hesitate, “isn’t it supposed to be gold?”

The Archons never expected you to ask something like this. Was this the reason you were running away? Did you believe you were some kind of imposter?

“Your Grace,” Venti says, bringing a hand up to his chest, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but we would recognize your aura anywhere. We are your most devoted. Will you please let us help you?”

His words were convincing, and their faces left no room for speculation. Not to mention, the God of Wisdom was here trying to convince you as well, maybe you should listen to them.

You take a small step forward, “you promise not to hurt me?”

The three shake their heads quickly, “we would never lay a hand on you Your Grace…”

Ei was the first at your side offering to carry you to Mondstadt, Venti pouted at her words saying that he could carry you too.

“It should be me carrying them Barbatos, I’m the tallest one. I can carry Their Grace with ease.” She reasons.

The Anemo Archon didn’t want to seem childish in front of you but he still wanted to argue his reasoning. “I’m the oldest Archon here, it should be me.”

Nahida sighs holding her small hand out to you, “I’m not sure why they are fighting when you are capable of walking… I‘ll lead you to Mondstadt.”

You take her hand letting her lead you through the grassy fields. Ei and Venti, quickly pick up their weapons to join the two of you.

-

© avocad1s 2023

[cerisemerald]

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

[loveburrowx]

Portugal

Request - Joe goes to Portugal for a vacation and he meets Y/N.

Warnings - Smut (intercourse)

A/N - just wanted to make a fanfic with my country! Enjoy!

Joe, quarterback for the Bengals in the NFL, had been feeling the itch to get away from it all. The constant pressure of performing on the field, the endless stream of fans and media, the never-ending demands on his time. He needed a break, a chance to recharge his batteries and just be himself. So, he decided to do something drastic: he booked a one-way ticket to Portugal.

With his trusty travel guide in hand, Joe set off to explore the cobblestone streets of Lisbon, marveling at the city's stunning architecture and vibrant culture. One afternoon, while wandering aimlessly, he stumbled upon a soccer game being played at the Estádio José Alvalade. The game featured Sporting CP, one of the most successful teams in Portugal, and the energy in the air was palpable.

As he watched the players on the field, a familiar face caught his eye. There, leading the team as captain, was Y/N, a woman with long, flowing hair and legs that seemed to go on forever. The way she moved with grace and power, the way she shouted instructions to her teammates, it was clear that she was the heart and soul of the team. And to Joe, she was absolutely irresistible.

After the game, Joe mustered up the courage to approach Y/N as she was leaving the field. He introduced himself in his broken Portuguese, complimenting her on her skills and her leadership. To his surprise, she smiled warmly and seemed genuinely flattered. They exchanged numbers, and before he knew it, they were texting each other constantly, meeting up for dinner and attending local events together.

The more time they spent together, the more Joe became infatuated with her. Not just her beauty or her skill on the field, but also her charisma and her passion for life. He found himself unable to resist her sexy Portuguese accent when she would correct her teammates or shout encouragement to her friends. And when she gave him her jersey as a gift, he felt a thrill run through him that he hadn't experienced in years.

One evening, as they were enjoying dinner at his newly purchased home in Lisbon, Joe couldn't help but ask Y/N if she'd ever like to cook for him. She hesitated for a moment, but then smiled shyly and agreed. The next day, she arrived at his house carrying a basket of fresh ingredients and a mischievous glint in her eye. As she prepared a traditional Portuguese dish for him, Joe couldn't help but wonder what else she might have in store.

When she finally presented him with the meal, Y/N stepped back and revealed that she was wearing a stunning, all-white dress that showed off her perfect figure, including her toned legs and her perky breasts. The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She wanted him. And tonight, she was going to make him feel wanted too.

As they sat down at the table, Joe couldn't help but wonder if this was all some kind of dream. Y/N was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and the way she moved around the kitchen, serving him her delicious dinner, was enough to drive any man wild. They ate in silence at first, lost in their own thoughts, but eventually, they couldn't help but begin to talk. They talked about their lives, their families, their passions. And as they did, Joe felt a deep connection forming between them.

When dinner was finished, Y/N cleared the table and asked if he'd like some dessert. He nodded eagerly, his heart already racing with anticipation. She returned a moment later with a small platter bearing a decadent chocolate torte and two forks. As they sat down on the couch, she placed the platter between them and leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear. "This is my favorite dessert," she whispered. "I hope you like it."

Joe could feel the heat from her body as she sat so close to him, and the sweet aroma of the chocolate made his mouth water. He watched as she picked up her fork, the silverware clinking softly against each other, and took a small bite. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she chewed, and he found himself unable to look away.

When she finally offered him a bite, he took it greedily, their fingers brushing against each other as he brought the fork to his mouth. The chocolate melted on his tongue, releasing a rush of rich flavors that left him speechless. They ate in silence for a moment, savoring the sweetness and the intimacy of the moment.

"It's delicious," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really are an amazing cook." She smiled at him again, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Thank you for enjoying it," she replied softly, her accent sending shivers down his spine.

The air between them felt charged with desire, and Joe knew that he couldn't resist her any longer. He reached out and took her hand in his, their fingers entwining as he leaned in to kiss her. She responded eagerly, her lips parting beneath his, and he felt the familiar heat of her breath as she moaned softly against his mouth. Their tongues danced together, a slow and sensual waltz that left him breathless.

As their kiss deepened, Y/N shifted in his lap, her body pressing against his. He could feel the softness of her breast against his chest, the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. His hands moved up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones as he explored the contours of her jawline. She arched her back slightly, grinding her hips against him, and he knew that she wanted more.

He broke the kiss, needing air for a moment as he gazed into her eyes. They were bright with desire, and he could see the passion burning deep within her. "Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Tell me what you need." She smiled at him, her lips curving into a wicked little smile. "I need you," she breathed, her fingers trailing down his chest, "to make love to me."

The words sent a shiver through him, and he leaned in to kiss her again, more roughly this time. His hands moved down her body, unbuttoning her dress and revealing her perfect skin beneath. She moaned as he explored her curves, and he felt her hands fumbling with his belt, unbuckling it and lowering his pants. He stood up, kicking off his shoes, and she climbed up onto her knees, straddling him.

The feel of her warm, wet folds against his erection sent a wave of desire coursing through him. He grasped her hips, pulling her down so that he could feel the full weight of her body on him. She arched her back, her breasts spilling free from her dress, and he reached up to cup one in his hand, rolling the hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger. She cried out, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and he could feel her body trembling beneath him.

He thrust upward, feeling the hot, tight grip of her body as she enveloped him, and the sensation was almost too much to bear. He could feel himself on the edge, ready to release, but he wanted this to last. He slowed his movements, taking his time, savoring the feel of her body moving against his. She looked down at him, her eyes half-closed, and smiled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh, Joe," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of their passionate lovemaking. "You feel so good."

He smiled back at her, feeling a sense of connection that went beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. He wanted this night to last forever, but as the tension built within him, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he lost control. With one final thrust, he felt the release wash over him, his body tensing as he emptied himself into her. She cried out his name, her body tensing around him in a wave of ecstasy, and as they came together in their shared climax, he knew that he had found something truly special.

They lay there for a moment, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. She leaned forward, her head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this content, this at peace.

As their hearts slowed and their bodies cooled, they heard the faint sound of laughter from the living room. The party was still going strong, but for a moment, it seemed as if the world outside didn't exist. It was just the two of them, lost in each other's embrace. She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes filled with love and affection. "Thank you for the most wonderful evening," she whispered.

He smiled down at her, a lopsided grin that spoke of the happiness he felt. "You're welcome," he replied. "But really, I should be thanking you." She laughed softly, her breath tickling his skin. "Why is that?" she asked, her voice teasing. "Because you made me the happiest man alive tonight." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of truth. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his once more, a gentle kiss that sealed their connection for the night.

As the minutes ticked by, they lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow of their passion. Joe couldn't help but wonder where this night would lead them, but for now, he was content to enjoy the moment and the incredible woman who had shared it with him.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at her. Her skin glowed in the soft light from the fireplace, and her hair spilled across the pillow like a waterfall of black silk. He traced his fingers along the curve of her jaw, feeling the gentle stubble against his skin. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and she blushed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

She reached up, entwining her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thank you," she said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's... it's a little overwhelming." He smiled, feeling the warmth of her palm against his. "Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to explore this with you, get to know you better."

Her eyes met his, and in them he saw a mix of hope and uncertainty. "You're serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't just want this one night?" He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life," he whispered against her mouth. "I want to see where this goes. I want to see where you go."

She smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up her entire face. "Then I think," she said, taking his hand and leading it lower, "we should go to bed." Together they climbed beneath the covers, their bodies tangled and entwined. As they lay there, she traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, as if committing every detail to memory. "I feel like I've known you for a lifetime," she murmured. "And yet, I also feel like there's so much more to learn."

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. "I feel the same way," he confessed. "But I promise you, tonight was just the beginning. I'm not going anywhere." She sighed contentedly, her body relaxing against his. "Good," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Because I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a ride." And as they drifted off to sleep, he knew she was right. This was just the beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where the journey would take them.

[nana-b0b]

》🔞 These panels are censored, you can go to the last of the post to find out where to see them!

A little historical info to better understand:

♡♡♡♡♡!!! I really feel happy and overcome with these panels, I was thinking a lot about how to make them since there were several obstacles: I had never drawn something NSFW before as it should be 😅 I never got that far so to speak, there was always a line that prevented me from taking that step, since it is not the same to draw some small scene where you only see something specific to a whole pose as such and all that implies. But after many ideas and turns I managed to take that step (maybe small for some but for me it was like reaching the moon 😂) and the most important and most feared was that the essence of the drawings and the style would be lost but I could keep it well and make it coexist ♡.

Note: as for the text accompanying the panels I want to say that it's not my best work as a narrator hahaha I don't write anything since I was about fifteen and it was my era of fanfics and stuff, so I feel its very basic and empty! 😅 ♥!

Now, let's talk a bit about the panels! Well, as we all knew this moment was coming, it was no surprise -3- Ryomen really had to be patient to get what he had been thinking for a while, but he didn't want it to be something random as it could be with any woman he wanted, he was really curious to see how Aurora could look like with the full appearance of a lady of the Heian era and when he saw her, he just couldn't resist. One thing will be clear: Aurora won't wear black teeth again, there will be no way to paint her teeth again without someone losing a limb. As for her eyebrows: she's really mad about that, but I'll let it go.

And to close this post I come with a novelty (I've been thinking about this for days) now we are going to be able to have these drawings completely uncensored on patreon.

I'm not going to lie, using more than two social networks for me is already a lot 😥 if it were up to me I would only post everything in one place but we know how the rules are and we have to respect them, if just by showing a nipple (which is a pixel 😂 ) they almost censored me on Instagram I knew this would be difficult and Tumblr is not lagging behind, while there are things that it lets pass there are others that it doesn't and it's not nice to have to make such complex drawings so that the AI doesn't detect them as 🔞 since there comes a certain point that you get tired too and it loses the grace.

My patreon will be the place for all my works 🔞 without any censorship already, you are going to be able to enjoy both public and private content depending on the type of work ♡. I think also for me it's an incentive to be able to start letting go more of my ideas and continue with everything I want to do :)

To say goodbye first I want to always thank you for all the support you give me and all your messages 🖤 and second to warn you that this CAP of Ren will be in patreon already published privately but all the other censored drawings are public for you to see and enjoy them as they should ⭐

Here are the publications that I censored and that you can now see, there are not many at the moment x'D

[purplemang0z]

My Rtc Headcannons ^^

Notes: I ship Nischa and Perfectdolls so expect that and I'm going to interchange Savannah and Ricky's names for their character. I haven't watched Legoland, and this is an au if they all survived the accident. That's all. Enjoy! ^^

Ricky and Constance both write fanfics and have each other proofread it.

Mischa cries during every movie with a found family trope.

Ocean is an extreme perfectionist and has a hair brush on her 24/7 just in case her hair messes up.

Penny knows a bunch of random animal facts.

They all learned sign language in order to communicate with Ricky better

Mischa started crushing on Noel first but told himself that he just wanted to be best friends.

Penny and Noel really enjoy poetry and get together just to show each other it. They both have written some for their respective partners.

Ocean and Mischa are surprisingly close because Ocean used to tutor him when he was first learning English.

They all HATE Karnak and after the accident Mischa burned the machine.

Jane and Ricky both really enjoy stargazing.

Ocean's parents are both drug addicts.

Ocean is a sex repulsed asexual, a lesbian and transfem

Mischa is transmasc and bi

Noel is genderfluid, Ricky is enby and bi.

Constance is Pan, and Penny is a lesbian demigirl.

Mischa is really good at remembering languages.

Constance carries a bunch of sweets on her all the time.

Savannah knows a bunch of gossip because people talk about it in front of them all the time. He tells it to Penny all the time and she uses it as blackmail.

Talia is the sweetest person to ever grace the face of the earth and the whole choir loves her.

Ocean has really mean intrusive thoughts about people and sometimes says them out loud when she's rambling.

Penny likes to braid Ocean's hair.

Mischa and Talia have openly sexted on other people's YouTube comment sections.

Noel knows a bunch of different instruments and sometimes teaches them to choir.

Mischa hangs out at Taco Bell with Noel when he gets bored at work.

They're all terrified of Rollercoasters now.

Constance is a swiftie.

They all go to Mischa's house the most because his room is the biggest and he has the most games.

Ocean is the tallest and Constance is the shortest.

Mischa has made a bunch of music videos in his bedroom.

Savannah is good at writing music and sometimes writes Mischa rap music for his YouTube channel.

Noel has learned Ukrainian secretly to surprise Mischa. He also knows a bit of French (mostly the swears)

Ocean is super competitive and turns into a completely different person while playing games.

Constance has made a scrapbook of the Choir (with a bit of Ocean's help).

That's all for now! ^^

[diamondcitydarlin]

diving back into msscribe lore made me remember this; imo one of the funniest things about the My Immortal fanfic is the context to which it was born in the HP fandom at the time. In the early 2000's, HP fandom was a veritable arms race of who could write 'the best' most 'sophisticated' HP fanfic and the BNFs (Cassandra Clare, for example) were elevated to their pedestals because they were seen as the most talented fic writers. There were pissing contests, passive-aggressive comments about so-and-so being 'a mediocre fic writer' just shared between supposed 'friends', like one's popularity currency absolutely depended on whether or not the fandom deemed one's writing 'good enough'. Everyone was trying to be the goddamn idk Jane Austen of HP fandom pretty much. Even by 2006 (and msscribe's fall from grace, if you even care lol) this was still more or less the case- so the fact that this absolute unrepentantly bad HP fanfic came out during that time, the fact that Tara just kept posting chapters and doubling-down on people's criticisms and abject horror, the fact that this fanfic gave NO FUCKS about spelling, grammar, keeping characters intact, or even the original context of HP at all makes My Immortal's existence so much funnier than it already is on its lonesome. My Immortal was a slap in the fucking face to the entire established system and it reveled in being so.

Tellingly, I think, most people online today aren't going to know those 'popular', supremely 'well-written' fics off the top of their head, but even some IRL people I've talked with know and love My Immortal. Hell, Tom Felton has read it for his IG! Amy Lee either read or reacted to it a few of years back! It has it's own wikipedia, countless illustrations, works inspired by it and a cult following even today! I can't say the same for any of those fanfics that came before!

Whether My Immortal was a skilled troll or an unapologetic teenage girl that was going to write whatever the hell she wanted to, goddamn it, doesn't really matter because the effect was the same. Maybe remember that the next time you're agonizing over whether or not your writing is 'good enough'. Sometimes, it doesn't even need to be.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

I would not be able to be seen as a god cause the moment any pretty lady talks or flirts with me. I deadass would say something stupid like- “Can I have one pleaseburger cheese?”

(The bloodline ends with me 😭)

no rizz fr😭😭

that gives me an idea like a rizzless god in sagau who gets really flustered when someone attractive talks to them. sorry if shes a bit ooc here lmaooo

imagine visiting fontaine the same time Arlecchino is there, Creator! Reader would do their best to avoid Arlecchino because they'd just be a blubberring mess as soon as she breathes near them or something.

Creator! Reader who gets invited to a meeting with Neuvillette only to find Arlecchino there too. You're all nervous and you could feel a bead of sweat run down your forehead because... It's FATHER were talking about here!! Before you were isekai'd into this world, you loved Arlecchino to a point you have her C6 and her weapon!

Neuvillette soon excused himself as there seemed to be an emergency in court, now it was just you and Arlecchino in the room. Her stare was frightening, you couldn't even look her in the eye...

"I heard a lot about you, your Grace, through my children... They told me they were your guide when you first visited Fontaine." She spoke up, "Uhh... Yeah... They were really nice and welcoming." you replied. Silence again... You didn't really know what to fucking say because what the hell would you even say to her??

'Oh hey uhh Arlecchino, I love you, I read your fanfics and lore and stuff uhh... I have your poster on my wall so uhh... Please don't be weirded out...'

Oh no way in hell were you saying that...

You cleared your throat to try to make small talk, "Umm... nice weather were hav-" you were cut off by a sudden thunder... looks like whatever Neuvillette was handling he seemed to be pretty upset by it. You just decided to shut your mouth. "Hmm... Well looks like it's time for me to leave." she spoke out as she sat up from her seat.

You glanced up at her, "If you're interested, I would like to have dinner with you tomorrow, Your Grace." she added. "Oh... As a business meeting? I don't think I have anything to discuss with you in terms of business." you replied. "No, as a date." she replied.

"Oh... as a date... okay." wait... a... a...?!?!?! You're eyes widened, you could see her lips curl a little as she soon left.

Wow you truly are rizzless... to a point they'd have to just do the first moves themselves...

[d4yl1ghts]

I have a Mark Sloan x female reader fanfic

Mark is the chief for a day his friends are a little bit confused and jealous that he is the chief for the day. Mark is together with Meredith grey’s big sister, and she is surprised when her boyfriend is the chief for the day.

Y/n is the head of cardio, everyone loves her and the guys think that she is the hottest attending at the hospital.

Y/n and Mark Sloan has a one year old daughter together.

Something based on the episode when Mark is the chief, and maybe that involves Mark with his daughter and his girlfriend

chief

mark sloan x grey, fem!reader

summary: mark is selected as chief for the day and everyone is shocked that he was chosen

-

You were dropping your daughter, Evie, off at daycare for the day as you were head of cardio at Seattle Grace and your boyfriend was head of plastics. “Bye, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up at four, okay?”, you said as you kissed her head. She waved you off and you waved back at her as you drove off.

As you arrived, you didn’t see your boyfriend anywhere. It was like you jinxed it: he came cheerfully strutting down the corridor. “Oh, hey, baby.”, he said seductively. “Did Evie miss not saying goodbye to me today?”, he asked. “You wish. She didn’t even notice.”, you teased. “So, what’s got you so cheery today, hmm?”, you asked. “Well, the chief is off today and they chose me to take over for the day.”, he stated confidently with a smirk on his face. “Oh, well done!”, you said as you rubbed his arm. You wouldn’t say it out loud but you were slightly jealous as Mark could be irresponsible at times but you knew he would still do a good job and you were proud of him.

“Thank you, I have to go and do my chiefly duties, I’ll see you later.”, he kissed your cheek before walking off. Once he had disappeared past the corner, Derek approached you. “What’s he so happy about?”, he asked confused. “He’s been chosen to be chief for today because the chief is off.”, you stated. “Him? Out of everyone?”, he questioned. “Derek, I know he can be annoying and immature sometimes but this is a good opportunity for him, I think he’ll do well at it.”, you said. “Hmm, I guess so. I just wish I’d have a chance to be chief of surgery.”, he replied honestly. “Derek, I’m sure you will. I bet one day you’ll even be chief of surgery.”, you responded.

“I’ve got to go and prepare for a surgery, see you Derek.”, you walked away. Almost by chance, your sister Meredith came walking around the corner and bumped into you. “Sorry, Y/N.”, she said genuinely. “I’ve just seen Mark strutting around like he owns the place, any reason for that? Well, he already acts like he owns the place but…”, she added. “Everyone keeps asking me this, you know you could just ask him yourself.”, you replied. “This way I get to talk to my sister and Mark can be a bit… unbearable sometimes.”, she stated amusedly.

“The chief is off today and selected him to fill in as chief.”, you said. “Oh! Well done to him. I’m shocked that the chief would have chosen him out of everyone though.”, she replied as she looked through her files. “So am I, to be honest. He doesn’t have the best reputation but I’m happy he has a chance to outdo his reputation.”, you shared with her. “Yeah.”, she agreed. As you were about to walk off to get ready for your surgery, Cristina and your half-sister Lexie walked over in your direction. “I bet they’re going to be asking me about Mark as well.”, you sighed frustratedly. Meredith laughed at your over dramatic action.

“Hey, Y/N.”, Lexie said. “Hi, Lex and Cristina.”, you welcomed the two of them. “Are you also here to ask why Mark is so happy today?”, you questioned. “No, actually, but why is he so happy today?”, Cristina reciprocated. “He’s been selected as chief for the day.”, you repeated for like the fifth time today and you’d only been here for half an hour. Cristina’s jaw dropped wide open. You laughed at her expression as did Lexie and Meredith. “If you have a problem with it ask the chief when he’s back in.”, you said to her. “Okay, I have to prepare for surgery, bye!”, you ran off as Cristina looked ready to kill you. Your sisters laughed at your antics whilst Cristina was fuming.

It was now quarter to four and so you were getting ready to leave to pick your daughter up. “Hey, baby.”, Mark whispered. “Where did you come from?”, you asked. “The chief is back so I was wondering if you want me to pick up Evie with you because I don’t have anymore surgeries or consultations to do.”, he stated as he smiled down at you. “Of course.”, you smiled as you reached up to him for a kiss.

Mark offered to drive and you gladly let him. Soon, you arrived at the daycare and the both of you went to meet Evie. “Daddy!”, she screamed as she noticed Mark smiling at her. She only knew a few words but obviously ‘daddy’ was one of them. She waddled towards him and he picked her up. “Hi, gorgeous.”, he said to her as she nuzzled into him for warmth. He let her rest on him as he took her to the car. He strapped her in the back carefully, making sure it was safe.

Once you had began driving off, you said to Mark: “You were such a good chief, honey.”

“But you’re an even better dad.”, you added as he smiled to himself.

“You’re an even better mum.”, he said as he looked over at you quickly before turning back to the road.

[starimusprime]

Caught

An OpLita fanfic 💜

Word count: 2,432 Continuity: TF: One

Summary: Optimus takes Elita to see the Hall of Records. They kiss. They kiss a lot.

❗️CONTAINS BIG TF ONE SPOILERS❗️

As the two walk with languid strides through the lit archives of the Hall of Records, Optimus occasionally stops to point out his favorite sections or where he had almost been caught by the guards when he was Orion.

     They round a corner and he pauses, glancing back at Elita with a soft chuckle as he gestures to a bot-sized grate at the end of the aisle of shelves.

     “The last time I came here, I busted through that grate with a security drone in my servos and almost died.”

     "I remember hearing about that incident," Elita says. "You were always one for the dramatic exits, Orion."

     “Hah. And entrances,” he adds.

     A soft smile graces his face as he recalls who he had been not even a quartex ago. Hearing his old name…it doesn’t feel like it’s no longer his name. He’s still getting used to being called Optimus, not to mention Prime.

     "And how many times did D-16 have to bail you out of trouble?" she asks playfully, walking closer to him.

     He stops mid-stride, his gaze falling to the floor. He takes a deep breath.

     “Please, Elita,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to talk about D…”

     She steps closer and places a gentle servo on his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned him... Are you okay?"

     Optimus vents. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

     “No,” he admits. He then looks at her with a gentle smile. “But I will be.”

     Elita nods understandingly, her optics softening. "Let's talk about something else, then."

     He nods back. His optics return to their usual brightness and he beckons her to follow him down one of the aisles. They come to a junction with a holovid table in the center. He walks over to a shelf and picks up a holovid drive, blowing the dust off of it as he returns to the table.

     “This is an old favorite of mine,” the Prime explains before gently inserting it into the table’s drive slot.

     Elita watches with curiosity as he activates the table, a holographic projection springing to life in the air above it. The image is grainy but powerful:  two colossal figures locked in combat, one radiant with light, the other shrouded in shadow.

     A narrator’s voice emanates from the table, recounting the legendary tale as the projections of Primus the Creator and Unicron the Destroyer fight each other. Unicron desired full power over the universe, while Primus believed that balance was essential. Optimus’ optics glow a little brighter as he allows himself to be immersed in the story of Primus becoming Cybertron.

     Elita watches the ancient battle play out in awe. The story is told to every Cybertronian when they are forged, so she knows the tale by spark, but there is something about seeing it play out before her that makes her spark thrum stronger. She glances at Optimus, his new, yet familiar frame reflecting the light from the holographic projection.

     The holovid comes to an end and he removes it from the play slot.

     “I would always watch it when I saw it,” he says as he returns it to its shelf. “It gave me great inspiration for what I still believe in.”

     "The balance," she agrees, nodding her helm slightly. "You've always had a strong sense of justice."

     Optimus turns to her with a gentle smile. “Yes…although, it seems it’s too strong for my own good sometimes.”

     "I think it's your biggest strength," Elita says, her optics searching his. "And it's what makes you a great leader."

     His optics widen slightly and his smile fades. “But I’ve only been Prime for a quartex… I still have so much to learn about what makes a good leader.”

     She steps closer, her servo resting gently on his arm. “You’re doing great, Optimus. You’re still the same Orion I knew, just with a little extra wisdom now. And a really cool new name.”

     Her touch is unexpectedly soothing, but Optimus shies away from her optics. He can feel his spark thrumming in his chassis, threatening to remind him of the sight of D-16's enraged face when he took the killing blow for Sentinel Prime.

     “Thank you… You have also done well as my commander so far. I'm glad I chose you to be by my side."

     "You've always had a knack for making the right decisions, even if you do execute them in stupid ways sometimes," Elita says with a playful smile. She takes a step back to give him space. "But tell me, how are you really feeling? This is a lot to handle in such a short amount of time."

     He shakes his helm. “I am recovering. Slowly, but…I am. My frame still aches from the reformat, but it’s getting better.”

     She looks at him with concern. “And…emotionally?”

     He vents and shifts his weight on his peds. “I’d really prefer not to talk about it right now. I’m sorry.”

     "You don't have to be sorry," Elita says softly. "We all have our burdens. I just want you to know I’m here if you ever want to share yours."

     He nods, his smile returning. “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

     They resume walking through the archives, Optimus leading Elita through the maze with such efficiency that one might have thought he had worked there.

     As they stroll, Elita can’t help but notice how the light from the archives' dim lights dances across the Prime’s red and blue armor.

     “So, uh," she says with a teasing lilt, "have you ever been in love?”

     He nearly trips on his own ped. His battle mask snaps over his lower face, and it takes him a second to realize it’s his new frame’s automatic response to his own face heating up. He tries his best not to show that her question has caught him off-guard, but he isn’t confident that it works.

     “Uh…um…no, I don’t think I’ve been in love…before.”

     Elita’s smile widens, and she lets out a light laugh. “Oh, come on, Optimus. Surely a scrappy mech like you had at least one lover?”

     She playfully nudges his servo with her own, her armor brushing against his.

     Optimus feels his blush deepen and he tilts his helm up slightly, trying to hide it from her prying optics. “No, I…I’ve never had that. No one ever found me attractive in that way.”

     She chuckles lightly, her optic sparkling with mischief. "I find that hard to believe. You've always had a certain charm to you, even as the annoying, foolhardy miner you were. And now, as Prime, some say you’re quite the optic candy."

     His engine sputters at that and he stops, looking down at her with wide optics. “Wh…what?”

     Elita laughs. “You really don’t know, do you?”

     He’s quiet for a long moment. He shakes his helm, his spark thrumming hard in his chassis.

     “Don’t know what?”

     She steps closer to him, her gaze unwavering. “The way you blush so adorably when you’re flustered. It’s charming, really."

     Static gets caught in his vocalizer and he resets it, offering a nervous smile that he forgets she can’t see with his mask in the way. “You really…think I’m charming? You aren’t just trying to make me feel better?”

     Her optics widen, then glow brighter with adoration. She brings her servo up to gently stroke the side of Optimus’ smooth, angular battle mask.

     "I wouldn't say something like that unless I meant it," she says gently.

     “Elita…I…” He takes a deep breath, then wills his battle mask to disengage. It retracts with a series of clicks, fully revealing the soft blue glow under his optics. “I don’t know what to say. I…I never thought this would be…mutual…”

     "I know we've both been through a lot lately, but I think we could use a moment to just...be ourselves." She reaches up to caress his cheek with her servo. "I've had feelings for you for a little while now."

     His spark skips a thrum. “…you have?”

     Elita nods, her gaze locked with his. “I have. Since before your transformation. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

     Optimus finally lets his optics meet hers again. After a long, tense moment of silence, he slowly lifts his own servo, hesitantly sliding his digits up her jaw. His servo stops at the side of her neck, just under her audio receptor.

     “Elita…”

    She leans into his touch. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I needed you to know how I feel.”

     He lets out a shaky breath. So much has happened in quick succession over the past two quartex, but this…this is all he can focus on. It’s time.

     “I have been in love with you since the solar cycle you became my mining captain, Elita,” he confesses quietly.

     She stands frozen for a moment, processing his words. Then she leans in, her servo sliding behind his neck to pull him closer.

     He feels her warmth as she presses into him, his spark fluttering and engine purring. This is what Orion had always hoped for, but he had never dared to believe it could ever be real. He lets her pull him down to her, his own servos trembling as he cups her helm and tilts his. Optics closed, he gently kisses her lips, ever cautious with this act that's so brand new to him.

     Elita’ optics close and she kisses him back just as gently. Her servo slides from his neck to his back, drawing him closer as she melts into his tender embrace.

     His servo lingers at the side of her neck, feeling the quick pulse of her spark in her fuel line as he kisses her more deeply. His other servo drifts downward and he wraps his arm around her waist, holding her close as if he's afraid she might vanish into thin air.

     Elita's other servo moves to the side of his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. His inexperience is palpable, but the way he holds her, the urgency in his kiss, speaks volumes.

      Optimus pulls away just enough to breathe out, “I’ve wanted you for so long,” then kisses her more passionately, leaning into her.

     Elita giggles softly at his eagerness, reaching her servo up to gently caress one of the two finials on his helm, her touch light and exploratory.

     The sudden contact on his finial makes him jerk his helm away with a gasp.

     “Oh, careful…” Optimus chuckles sheepishly as he tentatively rubs his overstimulated finial. “Sorry. These are still quite sensitive…”

     She pulls back, looking slightly apologetic, but her gaze lingers on the prominent new pieces on his helm.

     "They're cute," Elita purrs.

     His blush deepens at the compliment and he smiles, shyly lowering his helm back down toward hers with a nod.

     “It’s okay, you can touch them. I was just…startled.”

     She laughs softly, a warm sound that fills the coldly lit metal hallway. "You're so cute when you're flustered."

     She leans in and places a gentle kiss on his finial, pulling back with a curious glint in her optics.

     The Prime’s optics widen at the unexpected gesture. He smiles at her, his engine purring from the gentle contact.

     “What was that for?”

     "They're part of you now,” she says. “I just wanted to...welcome them."

     Optimus chuckles softly. “I’m sure my finials appreciate your welcome.”

     He pauses, his processor lagging with the reality of the situation. Him…Elita…in the Hall of Records…alone. Flirting. Kissing. It sounds fictitious.

     He resets his vocalizer again and quietly asks, “May I…kiss you more?”

     She grins and nods, leaning into him as her engine purrs louder. “Please do.”

     With a low rumble in his chassis, he wraps his arms around her waist and leans in to kiss her again. This time, a little more familiar with the act, he’s regained some of his old Orion Pax confidence. He kisses her deeply, pressing against her until her back meets one of the shelving units. The datapads on the shelves rattle from the light impact and one clatters to the floor, but he simply nudges it out of the way with his ped.

     Elita giggles at the way he keeps his attention on her. She wraps her arms around his neck, her digits tracing the subtle grooves in his helm.

     “Orion...” she purrs softly between kisses.

     Optimus feels alive in a way he never has in his life. Not when he was mining. Not when he was scaling buildings. Not when he was sliding down them. Not when he was getting caught by the authorities. Nothing compares to Elita.

     The weight of his new title feels momentarily lifted as he’s just Orion again, finally holding the femme he’s always loved. His servos trace the smooth contours of her armor, savoring every inch of her, as his kisses grow bolder.

     Elita cautiously begins to run her servos over his chassis, exploring his new form with an eager yet respectful curiosity.

     The Prime feels a warmth spread through his entire being as Elita’s servos caress his new frame. For a moment, he’s lost in the feeling of her against him, the scent of her armor, the soft sounds of their servos sliding over each other’s armor.

     The clearing of a vocalizer snaps Optimus into fight or flight, his powerful engine revving and armor flaring as he turns away from Elita. It’s Jazz, the smaller silver and black bot leaning against the wall with a slag-eating grin on his face. Optimus’ thoughts scatter.

     "Jazz," he stammers, "I...uh...we were...just...inspecting the archives for any signs of structural damage. Yes."

     Elita's laughter rings through the hallway, a light, melodious sound that fills the space with warmth. She steps back from Optimus, her own cheeks a soft shade of blue.

     "Okay, you caught us," she says, her voice playfully chiding. "Couldn't you see we were busy?"

     She crosses her servos in front of her chassis, trying to compose herself. She glances at Optimus, the amusement in her gaze purely affectionate. The sight of his flustered state is adorable and somehow comforting, reminding her of the Orion she knew before he became Prime.

     "Ah, I see. Structural inspection, huh?" Jazz winks at Elita, his optics shifting between the two of them. "I can't say I've ever tried that particular method before, but to each their own, right? But, as delightful as this is, Prime, we do have some serious business to attend to."

     Jazz holds up a data pad, at which Optimus lets out a heavy vent before gesturing for Jazz to enlighten them.