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pinkpersonsblog · 1 year ago

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Title : Stop It Right Now

Characters : Ram, Bheem

Summary : Bheem and Ram spend a day at the park and eventually Bheem discovers something charming about Ram -- he's very ticklish.

Word count : 1,909

Bheem sat opposite Ram on a blanket as they finished eating their tea sandwiches. They were at their favorite park, simply chatting and enjoying each other’s company. It was crowded with people— strolling and talking to one another, jogging, or walking their dogs.

Bheem took the last bite out of his sandwich and had to resist asking for more, knowing that it was the last one. Ram had made the tea sandwiches and it was Bheem’s first time trying them. He didn’t often eat foreign food, but found he really liked it. He never would have thought that cucumbers and cream cheese could go so well together.

Seeing that Ram had just finished his sandwich as well, Bheem was about to ask if he wanted to go for a walk. But he suddenly noticed something funny. There was some cream cheese and a few crumbs stuck to Ram’s mustache. He could have laughed at his friend being the messy eater he was. It was strangely endearing.

“Ram?” Ram looked at him and Bheem pointed at his own mustache. “Right here. You have something.”

Ram’s eyes widened as he swiped at his mouth, but missed. Bheem tried correcting him, but this time Ram only dabbed at it, leaving a large portion of the mess still on his face.

Bheem rolled his eyes upward at his friend’s ineptitude as he shifted towards him, picking up a napkin. “Here. Let me.”

Ram looked guilty, even hanging his head for a second before allowing him to clean his mess.

Bheem wiped the cream cheese off Ram’s lip carefully, as well as plucking off each crumb one-by-one. Once he was done, he leaned back and grinned. “Even a bib wouldn’t be enough for you. What would you do without me?”

“Probably continue gorging myself” Ram joked, looking slightly embarrassed. “God, I’m such a messy eater sometimes. People never say anything because they’re too nice.”

“Well, I’ll tell you, then,” Bheem said, smirking. “You eat like a pig.”

Ram chuckled. “That I do. Let’s just hope I don’t start oinking at you.”

They were silent for a long moment, looking on as a few people flew kites. They silently watched them raise the kites higher and higher, the colors vibrant against the blue sky. To their right there were some children running around and playing tag. And every now and then a squirrel or two would drop by, running up a nearby tree.

“Such a beautiful day,” Bheem said, turning to smile at Ram. His friend smiled back at him.

“Gorgeous.”

“I know I am,” Bheem teased, making Ram shake with laughter. All the stress seemed to melt from Ram’s face as he laughed, but it wasn’t just that—for the first time, Bheem found he really liked the sound of it. Before he could stop himself, he spoke his mind. “Ram, has anyone ever told you have a nice laugh?”

Ram’s smile froze as he stared at him, running a hand self-consciously in his hair. “Not really. When I was younger, I was told I laugh like Dracula, though, if that counts. So that was a boost to the self-esteem. Hey—don’t laugh at that!” Ram pouted as Bheem failed to suppress his chuckles. “I haven’t thought about that in a while. I’m not really the biggest jokester anyway, so I tended not to laugh much before I—” He stopped, looking bashful as Bheem waited for him to complete his sentence. He looked as though he were about to reveal something private. Then seeming to make up his mind, he continued, “…before I met you.”

Bheem smiled warmly at him, tempted to gush to his friend about how sweet he was, but decided not to embarrass him further. “Aw shucks,” he said simply, a slight blush blooming on his cheeks.

Ram, posing with his chin resting on his hand, fluttering his eyelashes, continued. “Why do you ask, Bheem? Do I have a nice laugh? What about it do you like?”

Bheem’s eyes softened fondly as he relaxed, opening himself up to his friend. He always liked complimenting him since his friend seemed almost reserved and unused to such things. “Yeah, you do. And it’s unique. Kind of funny-sounding.” Seeing Ram’s expression contort into a frown as he leaned back, he couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Like as if you were about to grab hold of my neck and sink your fangs into it.”

“You rascal,” Ram admonished, slapping him playfully. He still laughed, though, Bheem was pleased to note.

“I vant to suck your blood,” Bheem joked slightly menacingly as he reached out and brushed a hand across Ram’s stomach, grazing it playfully. To his surprise, Ram flinched and giggled in such a high-pitched tone, it was a strange sound coming from him. He protectively covered his abdomen with his hands, shoving Bheem’s fingers away. Bheem had never touched him there before, at least not in such a way that could elicit a reaction like that from him. It somehow made Bheem’s stomach flip upside down.

Bheem suddenly had an idea—a mischievous one, at that. He felt a bit shy in asking for some reason, so instead he felt like it’d be better to take action. Besides, the element of surprise was almost always rewarding. So once the time was right, when Ram was distracted, he stretched his arms widely and used that moment to scoot closer. So he could go in for the kill-- which he did by reaching out and poking his sides.

Ram cried out and scrambled away from him, hands protectively shooting to his sides. The way that he’d cried out was quite shaky—as though the sensation was too much for him to handle. But Bheem felt that his reaction was just what he was looking for. And it had answered his silent question – Ram was ticklish. Maybe even quite sensitive, based on his reaction.

“Don’t do that,” Ram warned him, going so far as to point at him critically as he gathered his composure, shifting so he was facing Bheem.

As Bheem scooted himself slightly away from Ram, he couldn’t help but feel giddy anticipation rush through him. He hadn’t had a tickle fight with someone in many years—not since he was a child— and he wanted to have one with Ram. He wanted to make him forget all his worries, laugh with abandon, and just have fun. He liked seeing his friend’s youthful side emerge and watching him come out of his shell was always a treat. He loved Ram so much.

Ram seemed to read the look in his eyes as he tried covering himself protectively with his hands. “Don’t you dare, Bheem,” he threatened, but the way he sounded when he said it...well, it sure sounded like a dare.

So Bheem shifted closer to his friend, and in turn, Ram, giggling nervously, shifted further away and off the blanket onto the grass.

“Not another inch or I’ll kill you…” Ram threatened.

Of course, that only impassioned Bheem further...before Ram could stand up and make a getaway, Bheem pounced on his friend, his fingers viciously trailing all over his sides, poking at him mercilessly. He somehow managed to overpower Ram, who was instantly reduced to cackles, laughing like a maniac as he struggled to escape his clutches. Ram even tried tickling him in return, but the joke was on him – Bheem actually wasn’t ticklish at all.

Bheem felt devilish as he continued tickling Ram, grinning the entire time. He could feel eyes on them from his right – some parkgoers had probably stopped to stare at them. He should have been a bit embarrassed, being a grown man tickling another grown man publicly – so childishly—but he didn’t care. He loved extracting giggles from his friend— now a broken mess lying in a heap beneath him, pleading, begging for him to stop. Ram’s teary eyes were so desperate, but that desperation only fueled Bheem’s desire to see him at his most powerless. Every time Ram tried crawling out of his reach, Bheem would take hold of his wrist and pull him back, never letting him get too far.

Bheem discovered that Ram was especially ticklish on his sides, as he’d gasp when Bheem’s fingers grazed them. It amazed him that he’d never discovered such a thing before, simply because he’d never thought to tickle him in the past. It was like he’d uncovered a great secret about his friend, one that had always lain right before his eyes.

“Bheem! Bheem, please,” Ram wheezed as Bheem had him straddled beneath him, tickling him feverishly. “I’m going to pee...I’m going to—”

But Bheem was so carried away that he was hardly paying attention to what Ram was saying. He felt he was going insane himself—full of glee and ecstasy as it’d been so long since he’d felt like a kid. Even as Ram begged him “STOP RIGHT NOW PLEASE”, Bheem only stopped after being concerned that he might actually make Ram pee or injure himself from laughing too hard. He eventually shifted off his friend’s body and sat beside him, laughing himself. He felt lightheaded with joy.

Ram panted heavily beside him, clearly exhausted from the bout of laughter he’d succumbed to. Bheem smiled warmly over at him, feeling content to just sit there with his friend, though feeling a bit guilty for tiring him out like he had.

“You didn’t pee, did you? Sorry I got carried away. It was just too fun.” And I like hearing your laugh, Bheem didn’t say.

“I didn’t, but I almost did, thanks to you and your torturous fingers,” Ram said with a laugh.

“I wish I knew what it felt like,” Bheem admitted, “but I was feeling kind of bad for you towards the end. So I had mercy on you.”

“How gracious of you,” Ram joked. He seemed to think for a minute, as he sat up and looked at Bheem. His lip quirked up at the corner. “It was fun, though. I haven’t been tickled in a very long time. I think the last time was when I was a kid, honestly.” His face grew more serious as he pointed at Bheem playfully. “I just hope next time you’ll listen so I won’t actually accidentally wet myself.”

Bheem ducked his head sheepishly, scratched the side of his face. “Sorry, sorry...like I said, it was the heat of the moment.”

Bheem hadn’t had such fun in ages. And he felt like he had gotten to see a new side of his friend that he’d never seen before. Ram could really stand to laugh more, he thought. It made him so much more endearing than he already was. He loved seeing him happy.

They sat together enjoying their remaining time at the park as a few ducks waddled past. Ram pointing at them and calling them cute. And Bheem agreeing with him. The park was getting less crowded as the sky was darkening, but they would probably stay at least a little bit longer. Just to enjoy the relaxing atmosphere.

Bheem looked forward to the next time he’d get to tickle Ram. He knew his friend was too nice to truly get angry at him for assaulting him with tickles. But he also could tell that he really did like it despite having lost control of himself like he did.

It was sweet.

#rrr #rrr fanfic #rrr fanfiction #rambheem #friendship

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terraliensvent · 8 months ago

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Hi mod it’s Cass

I am also YOUR number one fan!!! I don’t plan to stay in Terras, just hanging around until I get my art for my trade and then I’m running for the hills basically. The NSFW jokes and the general atmosphere are too much. I’m an adult in a server full of children, and atp given the nonchalance of other members I don’t plan on being in a space that encourages that kind of behavior towards children. I’ll probably make a ticket about it and that’s that, honestly.

I hope you don’t stay any longer than you have to, that place is just a cesspool of toxic positivity. Good luck in there bud 🫡 you’re so much braver than I am. I never really looked at this blog until recently but you seem pretty chill so you’re cool in my book!

post related

omg im having my “senpai noticed me” moment lmao

glad youre taking the initiative to gtfo, it just sucks how that shows more evidence that the terra server is not an environment conducive to critique or serious discussion whatsoever.

the nsfw/suggestive “jokes” have apparently been a continued issue just going based off the stuff i get in my inbox, and mods dont seem to give a fuck since theyre all around 18-20 themselves and dont have the foresight to see how there is true danger in things they think is no big deal.

and actually i wanna elaborate on my issues with mods being so young; when youre a very young “adult” yourself (adult in quotes because imo 18 is only adult in legal terms and most 18-year-olds do NOT have the level of maturity that comes with the title of adult, something amazingly exemplified in the terra server) you kind of blur the lines on minor and adult. what i mean by this is: when youre 18, you tend to think of minors as 16-17 or older teens since thats the stage you were just in, you dont really think about the 13, 14, 15 year olds being as super-young as they are because you were just in high school with some of them. because of this theyll brush more things off as “not a big deal” because, hey, i would make jokes like that with my friends in high school, its not that bad. they dont really realize the different dynamics there are when its online, and just how bad it ACTUALLY is. again, it goes back to that immaturity thing. (theres also something to be said about the way that 17 year olds online are really infantilized while 18 year olds online are treated as just as mature as older adults, AND theres something to be said about the way 18 year olds are constantly pushed into believing theyre more mature especially in art and furry spaces by beginning to create and post NSFW the SECOND they turn 18, but thats a whole nother can of worms)

anyways, maturity rant aside and back to the actual topic of the ask, i appreciate the kindness abt me and my blog :) i plan to stick around in terras because i love watching a trainwreck, but if push comes to shove ill start disconnecting myself from it again.

#closed species vent #terralien #closed species #terraliens #vent

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nanase-haru · 2 years ago

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{A.M.V.} Free!! x Uta no Prince-sama / Mamoru Miyano (Inspired): “Canon” (Second opening theme of Uta no Prince-sama Maji Love 2000%) {In that series, Miyano voices “Tokiya Ichinose”. This is not sung by “Tokiya” technically, but might give Tokiya’s image.} I used Miyano’s inspiration to make a Free!! A.M.V.! {It is my very first for this fandom, though I watched as it aired!}

Series: Free!! (C) Kyo-Ani “Canon” (C) Broccoli-Games / ELEMENTSGARDEN {Note: This is a FAN-work}

Characters/Pairs Featured: - RinHaru {Rin x Haru} - Rintori / NitoRin / RinAi {Rin x Aiichirou Nitori} - Ai x Rin x Haru as poly-ship or open relationships; (implied by the end) Feel free to view your preference!

My Commentary:

I would like to propose a Concept - Haru, Rin and Ai all have MULTIPLE HANDS. (This A.M.V. showcases the dynamics / story progression of all three; each of Haru and Ai with Rin, briefly, all acknowledging each other) Contains spoilers for: Free!! Seasons 1 & 2; {Rin; Haru; Ai scenes} “The Final Stroke” Part 2 start; but nothing specific from Final Stroke’s ending {Yet?}. (TFS Part 1 shows only in ‘scenic’ scene.) Others appear as support.

(Though I admit I am personally biased towards RinAi fandom-wise, I’ve also enjoyed the canon dynamic between Rin and Haru.) However, this work was partly made / inspired by an old mutual; this mutual really loved Rin+Haru dynamic too, so this is made in support! {They also like everyone as friends, as do I.} I’m not able to make much for this fandom usually (in the past, I did briefly rp {role-play} Ai, but do not actively write fic or anything much outside rp) but for the most part, this A.M.V. was very fun to make! Happy 10~ years anniversary to Free!! Time Spent: - About an hour and 30 min on the 1st verse + chorus. - Almost 4 and a half hours / a whole evening on the rest. - I am not even kidding when I say this thing must have crashed my editor (Windows Movie Maker... it’s an older version, sigh) at least x30+~50 times while attempting to finish Nitori’s scenes timing and the ending. As a result, this is technically a “first draft” (I know ending’s bit rushed, but I tried!) until I can go back and add in more timings and scene cuts! (Someday!...) - My editor tends to crash pretty frequently if I attempt 50+ clips; sometmes even after 20~ clips or so. This one has just about 40 clips, with bonus KyoAni’s own timings helping to smooth out the rest! - Sub-titles cannot be included at this time; I apologize! (However, lyric{s} below the ‘read more’!) It is recommended you view them in full (or in sections) before watching! - If you watch, I’d really love to hear your thoughts; I put a lot of effort in!

Summary:

“I only swim FREE!.” - Haru

... DO YOU?

“I feel so useless.” - Ai

“A sight you’ve never seen before...”

{Lyric[s] Preview!}:

Distant feelings on a {‘SILENT’} hill, … all of my love… (Get ready!)

“Do not tremble in this cruel world…” Through the kiss of a song, better than thousands of words

We can give something up ({I} swear to you) Just to live in this moment (Hold my hand) For your sake and for mine, we’re ready to take off now…together!

“SO, let’s GO!”

Your beloved voice becomes a powerful impulse That makes dreams reality As our heartbeats synchronize… Ah, exceeding even miracles, (Feel your song!) Up among the stars, (Feel my song!) Until that dream Reaches the unseeable FUTURE, I’ll PLAY this song! {“Free”}

I was scared of truth’s LIGHT…

(Lyric{s} via Uta-pri Wikia!)

“Canon” (description via Wiki): {no, not the fandom term.} In music, a canon is a contrapuntal (counterpoint-based) compositional technique that employs a melody with one or more imitations of the melody played after a given duration (e.g., quarter rest, one measure, etc.). The initial melody is called the leader (or dux), while the imitative melody, which is played in a different voice, is called the follower (or comes). The follower must imitate the leader, either as an exact replication of its rhythms Rand intervals or some transformation thereof. Repeating canons in which all voices are musically identical are called rounds. (For the meaning behind the title / theme!) {In the A.M.V., I semi-relate (if vaguely) this theme to all three characters; plus, more directly, make the comparison to Haru + Free!! AND Relay Medleys.} (There is vague inspiration from the original Uta-pri as well, but not intended directly comparable.)

The final chorus of the A.M.V. is one I had in mind ever since first hearing this song way back around Apr 2k13, when the second part of Uta-pri aired. It may be slightly more modified in a “final” version, but for the most part!...

Lyric[s]:

Distant {“Haruka”} feelings on a silent hill, all of my love… (Get ready!) [Haru <-> Rin] (+Haru; specifically...) “Do not tremble in this cruel world…” Through the kiss of a “song”, better than thousands of words We can give something up (I swear to you) Just to live in this moment (Hold my hand) For your sake and for mine, we’re ready to take off now…together! “So, let’s go!” Your beloved voice becomes a powerful impulse That makes dreams reality As our heartbeats synchronize… Ah, exceeding even miracles, (Feel your song!) Up among the stars, (Feel my song!) Until that dream Reaches the unseeable future, I’ll play this song! I was scared of truth’s light... [Ai -> Rin] Even at this great a DISTANCE, it’s too DAZZLING An unspeakable LONELINESS (No more crying) Thirsting for an impossible cure (Save my heart) [Ai <-> Rin] Since I met you, I’ve sworn to start living! The overlapping melodies of your voice seem to scorch my heart Resonating dreams echoing for eternity Like a sense of déjà vu, I knew today (Feel your love) A bloom of hope (Feel my love) An infinite rainbow Now our feelings are merging as we become one [Ai <-> Rin <-> Haru] The stars are waiting for the sky, they want to become a dream(?) The day will come when they bloom like a flower, and a rainbow awaits us on that day We’re ready to take off now…together! “So, let’s go!” Your beloved voice becomes a powerful impulse That makes dreams reality As our heartbeats synchronize… Ah, exceeding even miracles, (Feel your song!) Up among the stars, (Feel my song!) Until that dream Reaches the unseeable future, I’ll play this song! Feelings tied together on a shining hill…

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 1 year ago

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Dizzy | Fyolai

(A/N: sorry if this isn't very good. I have been strugling with writig motavation but felt abd that it's been so long since I've last written and posted anything BSD related. As I have mentioned before I'm new to BSD so I'm that familar with Decay of Angels but Fyolai are just so cute that I wanted to write something for them. Sorry if they're out of character or is the setting is weird. Also I may change the title if I think of a better one, I also may edit/improve this but for now here you go.)

~~~

Nikolai P.O.V

I skip down the hallway towards the main room to find Fyodor. We don’t have any work that needs our immediate attention today (I say this because Fyodor says there’s always work to be done) but I haven’t seen Fyodor since I woke up and went to go bird watching and bother the Armed detective agency.

He’s probably working, I really wish he would rest some.

Not much to my surprise Fyodor is sitting at one of the tables on his laptop. Just seeing him puts a smile on my face and I hurry over to him.

He doesn’t look up. I frown. A few seconds later, still nothing.

I wave my hand in his face, He blinks slowly.

“Dance with me, Fedya!” I say twirling again.

He gives the faintest of smiles, and shakes his head gently, “Kolya, I really shouldn’t be standing right now.”

I pout. “Oh, Fedya, ever the workaholic! You can take a break for a few minutes. Your work won’t grow legs and run away.” His expression changes, I can see he wants to indulge me, so why doesn’t he?

His frown deepens. “No-” I cut him off before he can protest about not falling behind.

“Wheee!!!” I giggle as we spin together.

Suddenly Fyodor feels heavier. He groans, “Niko . . . . .” My name is on his lips but the sound disappears and he crumples in my arms. My heart stops, what’s happened to him?!

Before I can start screaming he blinks his eyes open and relief restarts my heart, lifting the heavy feeling from my stomach. Of course, he fainted. This happens fairly frequently. I should be calm, and yet he looks so fragile and sickly. I take a deep breath, a scream still rising in my throat.

“Fyodor!” Frantic, I place my hand over my lover’s forehead. He’s warm. “You’re burning up!”

“Do calm down Kolya. I am fine.” He says it casually as if he hadn’t just collapsed in my arms.

“You fainted!” I urge him to see the severity of the situation.

“Yes, I did.” he confirms, still sounding like this is hardly an unusual occurrence.

“You have a temperature.” I plead still hoping to impart upon him the seriousness of this situation.

“Yes, I am aware. And worry not, I am not contagious either.” He sounds like he’s reassuring me. It’s frustrating how he doesn't see the danger of him just fainting out of nowhere.

I don’t understand. If he’s not ill then why does he have a fever? “Well, then what–”

He shakes his head again, “My body is weak, for reasons unknown even to me, I run low-grade temperatures occasionally. I am not ill but these ‘fevers’ increase my already plentiful dizziness, and affect my spatial awareness. They also tend to leave me fatigued.” He explains his condition gently, leaning into me for support. I feel immediately guilty. He was suffering and I was too preoccupied to see it.

“Oh, Fedya, I’m sorry.”

He smiles, it isn’t a big smile but it’s for real this time. “It’s alright, you did not know. Now if you could please help me sit down again.”

I’m smiling again. “I’ll do better for my Fedya.” I say picking up the ravenette, “Let’s go home. You can sleep, I'll be right there.”

He nods and closes his eyes snuggling closer to me, I tighten my hold on him and begin walking back to our room. Fyodor is already asleep.

(A/N: Today I'm starting the soukoku glasses AU I've been procrastinating on for sooo long so pls wish me luck!)

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #nikolai gogol #fyodor dostoevsky #Fyolai #Fyogol #Nikodor

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theyellowroseofsodor · 2 years ago

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I just realized I never posted my second short on here and I’m like “Ahhh!” Because the next short is in the process of being written. So…. Here it is!

Title: Gordon and the Goat

Rating: G

Summary: Camille works often with the farmers of Sodor and one day Farmer McColl really needs her help. But this helpful moment brings a little bit of strain into her relationship with Gordon, specifically when she’s been asked to care for a rejected baby goat.

Based on a real goat here at my homestead.

————————————

Camille had been out on her normal railway chores, taking goods from station to station and dropping off much needed grain and hay to the farmers of Sodor. She always enjoyed visiting the farm, especially Farmer McColl. He enjoyed teaching the young engine about farming and ranching. In fact, Camille, being small in stature, had been called upon to help during the spring birthing season to help animals that were struggling. Together, her, Farmer McColl, and Trevor had helped several cows with complicated birthing positions. It was such a joy to help out and see the little baby animals make their first noises and watching them stand for the first time.

She chugged along happily towards his farm. She was done with her freight cars for today and was happy that he was on her way to the next station. Farmer McColl was out working with Trevor when he saw her and flagged her down. Camille came to a halt with a smile.

“Do you need any help today, Farmer McColl? I don’t have any urgent deliveries right now.”

Farmer McColl scratched the back of his head, “I do actually. I have a rather big favor to ask of you and your crew if you don’t mind.”

Camille glanced back towards Edan and Dallas. They shrugged and hopped out of her cab so she could shift into her human form.

“What can we help with?” Dallas asked, hopping the fence. Camille and Edan followed him into the field.

“I’ve got a goat that’s a new mom and she’s rejecting one of her babies.” Farmer McColl said solemnly, “I’m so busy with the other animals that I don’t have time to tend to the little one and without intervention, she will die.”

Camille gasped, holding her hand over her heart, “That’s horrible! But what can we do to help?”

Farmer McColl waved for them to follow him back to the barn, he hopped back up on Trevor while Camille and the others climbed into the trailer.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was hoping you’d be willing to take the little critter in.” The farmer said, “I’ve got plenty of colostrum from mom and lots of goat's milk. I can supply you with the right kind of bottles.” He sighed, “I know that’s a lot to ask but soon she’ll be able to be with the herd, I can get a bottle stand ready for her, just for now I need someone to watch her. A few days maybe a week at tops.”

Camille glanced at Dallas and Edan. Both looked very uncertain but knew the little tank engine was going to be more than willing.

As they reached the barn, Farmer McColl showed them in. Trevor opted to wait outside.

When Camille came to pen with a warming lamp she gasped. Down in the pen was a small goat, maybe 2 pounds. She was shaking while she tried to stand. She was white with a few little black dots on her coat. She had bright blue eyes. Her little bleats were very high pitched and soft.

“She’s adorable!” Camille coo’d. With that, Dallas and Edan knew they were doomed to take the goat. Farmer McColl brought a bottle with a thick yellow milk inside and handed it to Camille.

“This is the Colostrum she needs before she can have milk. I’ve tried getting her to drink but she’s not very willing. Maybe you could give it a try?” He asked the engine.

Camille entered the pen happily and sat down in the warm straw. She sat cross-legged and gently pet the little animal. At first, it shied away from her, but then it wobbled closer a few steps before falling. Camille picked the little doe up and cradled it in her arms. She offered the bottle, helping put it in the baby's mouth. The little goat let out a bleat of happiness, standing to the best of its abilities and nursed from the bottle, its little tail wagging happily.

“Well I’ll be hornswoggled.” Farmer McColl said with a smile.

Dallas sighed worriedly as Camille looked up and grinned at the two of them, “How exactly are you going to take care of a baby goat while we’re doing our chores?”

“The thing is maybe the size of a chihuahua, Dallas. It’ll be fine in her cab. Just put a diaper on it.” Edan said nonchalantly.

Dallas looked at the very happy engine, “What about the others at the manor?”

“Oh they’ll love her!” She grinned, “You honestly think they won’t melt looking at this tiny thing?”

He cocked an eyebrow, “What about Gordon?”

Camille waved her hand, “You don’t need to worry about him, I’ll take care of that.”

Dallas sighed and Edan grinned, “Looks like we will be taking the goat with us.”

Camille smiled as the baby relaxed in her arms curling up.

——

“Oh. My. Cuteness.”

Thomas had walked into the living room of the manor and stopped in his tracks as he saw the bundle of white on Camille’s lap. The little doe was sleeping curled up in a blanket.

Camille smiled up at him, pausing her game, “Isn’t she? Farmer McColl needed help with her because she was rejected by her mother. She really likes me.” She grinned, “He gave me a kennel and everything to take care of her till she’s big enough to join the other goats.”

“That’s so awesome! I mean, not awesome about her mom, but awesome you get to take care of her.” Thomas sat down beside her and pet the little sleeping figure, “Does she have a name?”

Camille beamed proudly, “I named her Breezy, because she was born on a windy Wednesday.”

“Breezy! I like it!” Thomas smiled.

Camille handed him a second controller and the two sat back to play Overcooked together for a bit.

Overtime the others slowly trickled back into the manor, each taking in the little goat with surprise. James wasn’t all that sure, not being a big animal person, but after the little goat gave him a soft “baa” and gummed at one of his fingers he quickly melted at her goaty charm. Edward asked the most questions about the responsibility to take care of her but was satisfied with all Camille and Farmer McColl had done.

Henry melted at her originally but then panicked quickly for his plants around the manor. Camille swore she would keep her away from his room or the plants on the balcony and in the kitchen. Hiro pet the little animal with fondness.

Percy was thrilled, laying down on the floor to let her climb over him. Thomas quickly joined him, tapping at the floor to get Breezy’s attention. Emily was indifferent as long as there wasn’t a mess, but occasionally petted the animal.

Percy was cuddling Breezy on the floor when he looked up at Camille, “Does Gordon know?”

All the engines turned to her curiously. She grinned bashfully, “Ummm… not yet…”

“Oh that’s gonna be fun to see. Gordon’s gonna flip.” James snickered.

“I’m going to flip at what?”

Everyone turned as Gordon walked through the downstairs entryway. He had removed his hat, suit coat, and boots. He raised an eyebrow looking at the rest of the team as they looked at him.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He asked.

Before anyone could answer a little bleat sounded in the room and Breezy hopped from her spot with Thomas and Percy to Camille, nudging her for a bottle. Camille gave a nervous laugh as she picked the baby goat up and gave her the bottle.

“Heh heh… Surprise~” Camille said looking at the shocked and slightly upset Gordon.

Gordon gaped looking between the goat and Camille as she nursed the little critter. When he finally found himself, Gordon sighed with a hand at his face, “Camille. No.”

“Well, wait a minute.” She started, “Farmer McColl and I-“

“Camille.”

The others watched as Camille tried to explain the situation and Gordon looked more and more exasperated. Little Breezy just curled up, falling asleep on the bottle, and got comfy on Camille’s lap.

“Gordon, she needs me.” Camille said with a frown, holding her ground against the larger engine.

She glared at him, he glared back at her. Glancing around at the others, Gordon cleared his throat, “If you all wouldn’t mind, I need to speak with my girl. Alone.”

The others quickly made themselves scarce. Thomas grabbed the Switch and two controllers for him and Percy to play with Emily in tow. James whispered a ‘good luck’ to Camille as he and Edward left. Henry and Hiro walked outside to do some gardening together. Camille sat with the baby goat in her lap, her eyes having not once left her boyfriend.

Gordon sighed again, “Camille, we’re engines. We don’t have time for pets.”

“She isn’t a pet, she’s livestock and she needed my help. It’s only temporary.” Camille retorted.

“What did Sir Topham Hatt have to say?”

Camille went quiet and looked away, “I haven’t told him.”

Gordon rolled his eyes in frustration, “Of course you haven’t, because you know what the answer is going to be.”

“Farmer McColl said she would die without help.” Camille said softly, stroking Breezy’s soft coat, “What else was I supposed to do?”

Gordon shrugged frustrated, “Tell him no. There has to be others.”

“Well he asked me.” She said through grit teeth, growing frustrated.

Gordon looked at her disapprovingly and she returned it right back to him. Eventually she looked away from him and down at the sleeping kid. He sighed again and sat down next to her, looking at the sleeping form. “Please do not get attached. I know you’re trying to do the right thing and I know your heart is already in it, but our job first and foremost is to the railway.”

Camille was absentmindedly petting the little goat, “It won’t be long, Gordon, I promise. Farmer McColl is making some sort of bottle stand where she can be nursed and can spend time with the other goats. He said only a few days, maybe a week tops.”

She leaned her head against her lover. Gordon huffed a bit, but placed his arms around her, “Alright then.”

——

That night, Gordon laid in the tub of the bathroom, trying to relax. It was getting late and Camille had insisted that the little goat sleep in the kennel in their room. She was prepping it with blankets and a stuffed animal, because of course, humming to herself delighted. Gordon sank in the warm comfort of the bath and let out a comfortable sigh. Although he originally hated the idea of baths after Camille had been in his life he found them more and more needed on hard days. She had all sorts of bath salts and minerals for comfort and every once in a while he really needed to indulge. He was thankful the tub fit someone his size, it must’ve been custom made although he didn’t give it much thought.

He was in a peaceful, restful state when he heard the light tippy-taps of hooves on the linoleum floor. Opening one eye he watched as the little goat had entered the bathroom, doing little hops as she explored. She would bleat every once in a while, quietly, but noticed him and cautiously made her way over.

For a split second, Gordon thought about splashing water at her, sneering. The little goat paid him no mind, curiosity had gotten the better of her. She walked up to him, sniffing at his fingers over the tub and gave them a little nibble, having no teeth it didn’t bother him.

“Oh, no. You’re not going to win me over.” He said as Breezy continued to nibble and sniff at him, playing by the tub.

She gave a warm bleat and hopped in a circle, almost knocking herself over. She regained her balance, looking around.

“Don’t you get hurt.” Gordon grumbled, “She’s liable to blame me.”

Breezy, who clearly did not speak or understand English, tried to do a kick in her hops and fell with a bleat.

He winced at her and, for reasons unknown to himself, scooped the little animal up and held her up above the bath. She just hung there on his hand looking at him. He stared at her back.

“What does she see in you animals?” He asked out loud.

Then, without much warning, Breezy squirmed hard and went right out of Gordon’s hands and into the bath with him.

“Oh, crap!” He yelled out as the little goat, soaked and frightened, bleated and kicked.

“Camille!!” He called out less than dignified.

Camille came running in and quickly grabbed a towel taking the panicked goat.

“Would you get that thing out of here?!” He yelled, standing up disgusted by sharing bath water with the kid.

“She’s not a thing, she’s a she!” Camille shouted back at him, “And how did she get in the bath anyway? She can’t jump that high!”

Gordon wrinkled his nose, “It… She fell and I picked her up and she moved and I dropped her in the water.”

Said goat was shaking her wet head and snorting as Camille dried her off.

“Oh, you poor baby.” Camille coo’d, cradling the baby.

Gordon’s head shot up, disgusted and mad, “She’s the poor baby? What about me?? My bath is ruined!”

Camille looked back at him, “You’re a big boy, you can handle yourself. She’s not even 24 hours old.” She turned and walked back to the bedroom, drying the baby off and talking to her like she was her own baby.

Gordon’s lip quivered in anger and he snatched the towel from the towel rack, proceeding to dry himself off. He murmured quite a bit under his breath.

——-

“No. No. No. NO. NO!”

Gordon was folding his arms over his chest absolutely livid. Camille had dried off Breezy, only for the baby to cry anytime she put it in the kennel alone. After worrying about keeping everyone up, Camille put a diaper on the kid and laid it next to her in the bed.

“She’s not going to hurt you, Gordon, and it’s the only way she’ll sleep without crying.”

“You are not sleeping in MY bed with a goat!” He demanded.

She sat up with a sigh, “Fine.” She picked up the sleeping goat and walked to the door.

“Where are you going??” He asked exasperated.

“I’m sleeping in my old room. That way I am taking care of the goat, you get your bed without a goat, and everyone gets sleep.” Camille said with a struggling sigh and left.

Gordon groaned, flopping onto his bed, running both hands over his face. It’d been a while since he hadn’t slept with Camille by his side and he didn’t enjoy it one bit. He grumbled to himself, angrily pouting, mimicking her voice in a higher pitch, “You get your bed without a goat and I’m gonna go sleep in the other room. BAH! I might as well sleep in the shed.”

He grumbled, pulling the covers over his head in a harumph. He scowled and wrinkled his nose at the whole situation, but eventually Gordon and sleep found each other.

——

The next few days went well for the most part for Camille, despite her and Gordon’s tiff. She woke up once in the night to feed Breezy and then slept till her alarm. Gordon was already up and gone to work so Camille had no problem returning to his private bathroom to get herself ready for the day. Little Breezy stayed right by her side, full of bouncing spirit.

Edan and Dallas greeted her and Dallas held Breezy while she shifted. Unfortunately for the trio, Breezy wasn’t nearly as eager to be in the cab not knowing Camille was the engine. She cried for her often but figured out the routine soon enough, when Camille did have time she would shift and offer Breezy her bottle.

They stopped at Farmer McColl’s for a brief moment one day. The farmer pat the little animal on the head and smiled.

“She looks much better than she did.” He smiled, “Thomas dropped some materials off today to help build the bottle stand. I hope she hasn’t caused any problems.”

“She’s getting into the routine.” Camille said, but looked a bit sad, “I just wish I could convince Gordon she’s not a handful.”

Farmer McColl gave her a soft smile, “Well it’s been about a week and I’ve got other kids that have been born. We could go ahead and try having her spend time with them. It’d be good for her.”

Camille smiled and kissed the little goat's head, “I think a play date is in order.”

She handed Breezy to Farmer McColl and they walked to a pen where easily 10 other goat kids were bleating and playing.

“They are the cutest!” Camille exclaimed watching as the baby goats hopped and kicked around.

“This pen gives mama’s a break and lets the kids go nuts.” Farmer McColl said as he put Breezy down. There were large wooden spools and little homemade seesaws around the pen. “She’ll fit in just fine.”

Camille smiled watching Breezy go and mingle amongst the other goats, starting little head butting fights and skipping around.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to work. I can come get her later.” Camille said with a smile.

Farmer McColl nodded his thanks and waved goodbye.

——

Camille ran into Gordon at Knapford later that night. He had just finished his Express run and was eager to see her. She stopped at Platform 2 and leaned into him a little while he waited for his passengers to unload. He smiled at her, a few passengers saying “aw’s” as they watched the engines cuddle.

“How was your day, my dear?” He asked her.

She sighed, “Better that you're here. But I feel odd without Breezy.”

Gordon looked a little surprised, “She’s not with you?”

Camille shook her head, “No. She's with the other goat kids at Farmer McColl’s. I’ve got to go get her soon.”

Gordon huffed, “If she’s with the other goats isn’t your job done?”

“Well, she still see’s me as her momma so not really. I’ve still got a job to do.”

“Momma?” Gordon asked, confused

“Well, yeah… and it’ll be a slow transition. I think…”. Camille looked worried.

“What’s the matter?” He asked concerned.

“I just… never thought of it that way till I said it outloud. Being a momma.”

“Camille, we’re engines. We aren’t capable of being parents.” Gordon said rather bluntly. He wished he hadn’t been but there was an uncomfortable feeling in his boiler.

“I know that Gordon. I know.” She sighed again, “But it’s never crossed your mind what it would be like to have a family?”

“I have you and I have Scot. I guess the rest of our team and household. That’s all I need.” He said, trying to be kind.

When she didn’t answer he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you want children, Camille?” The idea of small baby like engines driving around Tidmouth scared him, not to mention him being responsible for them.

She sighed again, “I dunno. I never thought of it before but… maybe…”

There was an awkward silence and then Camille asked, “What about you Gordon? If you could be a father, would you want to be?”

Gordon wanted to answer absolutely not but the more he thought about it, considering his relationship with Camille, he wasn’t sure. “I’m… not sure Camille.” He watched as some of his passengers, who had children disembarked. Some parents looked absolutely exhausted, others happy. He tried to imagine him and Camille with a small child, a mix of their looks, but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Not that it really matters, since it can’t happen.” Camille said, watching the same passengers, “But it’s just a thought. Similar to us trying to fly.”

“But… you’ve flown Camille. Just not in your engine form.” Gordon corrected.

She whistled when her signal turned green, “That’s true. I’ll see you later, honey. Gotta go!”

Gordon watched her leave with a wheesh. This whole goat thing was really starting to worry him about Camille’s psyche.

——

“I want you back in our room.” Gordon stated when Camille got ready for bed. He leaned against the doorway of the bathroom in his normal blue shirt and plaid blue pajama bottoms.

She stopped mid brush, “But Breezy won’t sleep in the-“

“I know.” Gordon interrupted her, “But I want you back in our room. It’s been a week, Camille.”

She finished brushing her hair and smiled, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Why does it feel like you’ve been on the other side of the island instead of just down the hall?” He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She laughed softly, “Probably because we’ve been in an argument.”

“Over a goat.” He said incredulously.

“A baby goat.” She corrected, watching Breezy clip-clop around the room.

Gordon scoffed, watching the goat, “A goat nonetheless.”

Camille picked the kid up and cradled her. Gordon looked in the mirror at the three of them. He tried hard to imagine the goat as a child instead and for whatever reason, his mind listened. Instead of the fuzzy goat, he saw a child. A little boy, with messy blue hair like his own but eyes like Camille’s. The scenario made his heart pound, especially with Camille looking so fondly at them.

She glanced at him in the mirror, concerned, “Gordon? Is something wrong?”

Gordon shook his head from the thought and looked at her, “I-I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

“About what?” She asked.

Gordon paused, “About what you said earlier. About… being a mother.”

“Oh!” Camille said surprised, but with a smile, “Don’t mind me, Gordon, I was just thinking out loud.”

“Yes, but now it has me thinking.” Gordon hid his face in his hands for a second.

Camille turned away from the mirror to look at the real Gordon, “Do you want to be a papa, Gordon?”

Gordon wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think I like the sound of being called ‘papa’.”

Camille took no time to think, “What about dad? Or daddy?”

He leaned back against the wall, shaking his head, “I can picture it but at the same time I can’t. I’m an express engine! Not a father.”

“Don’t get worked up, dear.” She placed a hand on his arm, “It literally cannot happen. I’m a tank engine, there are no eggs here, my dude.” She said playfully, gesturing toward her hips.

He sighed and smiled, “It’s one less thing I have to worry about I will say that.”

“But for now…” she raised Breezy to his eye level, “You have to be a daddy goat to Breezy.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “You’re pushing your luck.”

Camille only laughed.

——

More time went by and Breezy grew. Eventually she was too big and wild for Camille’s cab and first thing in the morning she was taken to Farmer McColl’s. Time continued and, as it would happen, Breezy was becoming more and more reluctant to leave the other goats.

Camille found it to be bittersweet. It had become more work keeping an eye on the little goat. She pottied outside her diaper sometimes, particularly at night. She was starting to eat hay and was beginning to find ways to Henry’s plants. Her bleating was getting more loud and shrill, keeping everyone alert and awake.

She was an outdoor animal and it was time she lived like one.

Camille asked Gordon if he would come with her to drop Breezy off for the last time. Gordon found time to come off the main line and onto the branch line and join her. Breezy was in a happy mix of other goats, head butting, skipping, and playing. Farmer McColl had explained how she could officially be away from Camille no problem.

Camille felt a twinge in her chest, her heartstrings being pulled at.

“You can come visit anytime.” The farmer assured her, “Breezy comes from a long line of good stock, she’ll be living here all her life.”

Camille smiled at the idea of visiting the goat every once in a while on the branch line. Gordon put his hand on her shoulder for comfort.

“It’ll be OK.” He told her, “She’ll be here every day.”

Camille called for the little goat one last time and Breezy came running. She picked her up over the fence and gave her a hug and a kiss on the head.

“Thanks for being mine for a while, Breezy. I really will miss you.”

The goat gave a little bleat as Camille put her back down. She promptly went back to the other goats and began playing.

It was a hard goodbye for Camille. Her and Gordon left shortly after, saying their goodbyes to Farmer McColl. Things went back to normal at the manor too. Many of the engines in their spare time or passing on the branch line whistle to Breezy. Camille visits most out of any of them, eager to watch Breezy play and grow, happy she has the no-longer little goat in her life.

#ttte #ttte fanfic #ttte gordon #ttte humanized #ttte oc #fanfiction update

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phantomato · 2 years ago

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A Sense of Self in Decline

Chapter 2—Explicit Nottmort, ~8k

Voldemort goes to recruit a Death Eater (again).

Reflection below the cut.

I feel as though I’m often short-changing the ideological differences between Thoros and Voldemort. We know they exist—they’re lurking behind every disagreement these two ever have. But Thoros is, above all else, loyal, and his devotion to Voldemort usually wins out. He’s canonically a Death Eater, so I mostly make him one. Voldemort asks and Thoros answers.

I always meant to write a recruitment fic. @yletylyf remembered it from what must have been a conversation that took place a year before the first chapter of Decline was posted, it’s been percolating that long. I’ve been in some funky moods, so it came out all weird, and Thoros didn’t want to join this time. I loved that. Even when Thor is the POV character, and goodness knows he often has been, the story can tend to bend under Voldemort’s gravity. Thoros refusing to bend, on this occasion, and to hold himself apart, felt very fresh. I loved writing Voldemort chewing soap from separation anxiety. I only realized after I’d posted that it maybe wasn’t quite as clear as I’d intended that Thoros persists in his freedom.

A second chapter was born from the impulse to correct that, many months ago, and then took a back seat to various personal and creative difficulties. I cycled through probably four possible endings for this piece? That’s unusual for me. It’s not that I’ve never put a project aside for a few months and returned to it later, it’s that I’ve rarely changed my vision for the overall plot—either it wasn’t far enough along to have that vision yet, or I kept the original one. I haven’t been really present in HP fandom since about October of 2022, though, and remain separate from it now. I don’t have the facility that I used to with this setting.

The recurrent question was about how much I should show the world that Voldemort is creating. Decline has a tight frame of focus: Thoros and Voldemort, in conversation. And though Voldemort is our POV character, his p. of v. is very narrowly centered on collecting Thoros, to the exclusion of perspective and good sense. There should be some dread creeping in at the edges, so that we understand why he clings so tightly to someone who is steadfast in his position not to join the DEs, but I toyed with various permutations of the final events which alternately explored who specifically was involved and how much interaction they received. Voldemort’s focus, however, was on Thoros; no one else truly mattered.

I’m not sure whether I’m satisfied with this ending. It suits the chapter, I think, I hope. I did play with all those others, including variations where Thoros joins or Voldemort quits, and they didn’t feel earned. But I’m not sure whether this universe is done, though I suppose I have at least another three months before I have to worry about deciding that. I do think that the second chapter contributes to the thesis in the title. Voldemort continues to decline, finally bringing Thoros along with him, divided though they are. I love their division as much as I love their connection, and I don’t give it enough due—this goes a little way towards fixing that oversight.

#voldemort #nott sr #nottmort

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kbrecycling-blog · 9 months ago

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Old Love Song

I used to listen to a song on my morning commute to work--my old morning commute to work from Evanston to Winnetka, not my current one-minute commute from Glencoe to Glencoe. If you know me, you know that I tend towards a repetitive (some might call it incessant) listening style. Not since Landslide junior year of college did I play and replay a song like this.

Today I was waiting for Bo to make the short run across the street from his baseball practice to the car. It was pouring and the minutes ticked by and I had run out of cold case podcasts and Ringer podcasts and Pod Save Americas so I switched to Spotify and tried to remember the names of songs I used to love. Sometimes my brain is capable of producing a name–a title, a former acquaintance, a piece of knowledge –but more and more frequently, it’s a fifty-fifty shot. This is just one way I feel the passage of time lately. Others include my growing ignorance of (and subsequent awkwardness attempting to use) current slang, and my stubborn reliance on mid-twenty aughts Shopbop trends as the fashion world passes me by. Anyway, I wanted to listen to that song, the one I listened to pretty much every morning on the way to work, Highway 20 Ride by Zac Brown Band.

Those commutes often included a stop at my fertility clinic for a blood draw or ultrasound, which I of course wrote about exhaustively (and exhaustingly) during that time of my life. That made the song a weird mantra choice as it’s about a father looking back on the bi-monthly drives he took visiting his son, who lived with his ex-wife. I was, of course, desperately trying to create a child–a family–with my very un-ex husband (and still going strong today thank you). The sadness and the loss of the lyrics resonated with me, as I tended to feel that sense of loss deeply myself even though nothing had really been lost, just not yet found. But I’ve always been like that; I’ve always aged myself and my experiences prematurely, mourning weeks, months, and years before they’ve passed, claiming the age I’ll turn on my next birthday before I turn it. I don’t know why. When I was young and more fun and could wear a string bikini top as a bra, it felt like a facet of my personality that was poetic and unexpected. Now that I’m closer to fifty than forty, it just feels like rushing.

The line that moved me most back then was “And my whole world, it begins and ends with you.” Oh how I wanted a baby that could begin and end my world back then. But today it hit different (see I told you it’s awkward). How can I be someone whose whole world begins and ends with my son? What does that mean when he’s about to be halfway to his thirteenth birthday, when sometime in the past year I realized that protecting him from the disappointment, hardness, and pain of the real world is no longer in his best interest, and actually (in my opinion) in the opposite of his best interest if we want him to become an independent and mindful adult one day? When one day soon he’ll be moving on to the next part of his life beyond this house? Then what?

Hearing that song today reminded me of the passage of time again. Words that meant one thing now mean something else; words of longing for the future now mean longing for the past. Or soon-to-be past. See? Rushing.

I recently had an experience that led me to consider how much I’ve changed since I became a wife and, eventually, a mother. Have I lost a lot of who I was? Have I gained enough to justify that? There was a time when I’d sleep on the floor of a rented tent at the Metroparks without a second thought, or spend the night lying on the rocks that stretched from the shore of Lake Michigan. Now I can’t fall asleep in a hotel bed without a Xanax because it creeps me out thinking of all the people who have used the pillow before me. That’s a superficial example, but you get the idea. If I ever had wanderlust–and that is debatable–I’ve misplaced it. My world has narrowed–happily, I have to say–but what happens when my narrowed walls house only me?

I deleted and re-typed that last line a few times. It’s not how I want to sound, but it’s what I feel. Getting older, for me, means losing the shiny (if I do say so myself) package that contained my complicated, sometimes even dark, interior. I have always worried about my balance; when I was younger, I was sunnier on the outside.

When I wrote about my experiences with infertility fifteen years ago, I almost always had an ending–not always upbeat, but something I could take from what I’d written to move forward with. When I write now, I’m somehow less sure of what I want. Like my instant recall, sometimes it’s quick and clear, and other times I can’t quite grasp what it is that’s missing. Maybe my nostalgia when I listened to Zac Brown today was less for the song itself and more for who I was when I used to listen to it. For what was going through my mind back then, for the clear and powerful certainty of what I wanted.

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kayzee4real · 2 years ago

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Gender-Neutral Reader x Tartaglia

So the title says it all, this fanfic is as gender-neutral as possible. This is (at least I'm pretty sure) my first fanfic ever so please be nice because I am still learning. I really really hope you enjoy, I'll stop talking now!

You work under Ningguang’s wing, similar to Yelan, a secret spy of sorts. Though you are often sent on missions and whatnot, you also have plenty of free time that you tend to spend teasing the fatui. Ruining their tasks, making things harder for them, getting them caught, etc. is what is a part of the fun. You’re also quite good at it since it is similar to what you do for work anyways.

Recently, though, the fatui members seemed to be getting more annoyed and taking these situations more seriously. You’ve even spotted a redhead guy you’ve never seen before tagging along with them.

“He seems harmless. Cute, even. What could he possibly do?” You think to yourself.

Anyway, one day you spot him while drinking some evening wine at Liyue Harbor. You finish up and follow him. He enters the north bank, maybe for a meeting? Seeing as the door is guarded by two fatui members you secretly wait nearby for him to come out. Hiding behind a wall, you see him come out with an infuriated fatui that you remember you’ve teased several times before. You listen to their conversation.

“Tartaglia sir, we beg you! You have to do something about this mystery person. We can hardly get any work done because of their tricks.” He says.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you guys know it. I’m already working on it.” The redhead responds.

He stops in his tracks to turn around, then suddenly shoots a glance at you. Quickly you hide behind the wall and almost fall over from the shock. While one hand covers your mouth, the other reaches your chest to feel your heartbeat.

“My heart is beating so fast.. I’ve never felt like this before. What is it? Fear? No, it’s.. uh..”

Your thoughts are completely out of order remembering the eye contact between you and.. Tartaglia was it? Tartaglia... Tartaglia.. Tartaglia.

“Ugh, no snap out of it! There’s no way I’m… feeling that way towards a fatui! Much less a harbinger!”

“Oh hey, I found you.” A familiar voice says.

Startled, you turn around to see it was Ningguang who spoke.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It seems like you were thinking about something very deeply, and didn't mean to interrupt that either.”

“What? No, not at all.” You feel your face get red. You clear your throat and say, “Anyways, was there something you wanted to discuss?”

“Why yes, lately, millelith have reported that their work is getting sabotaged and I was wondering if you could take care of it. Yelan is currently busy with another matter so I’m afraid this one falls to you.” Ningguang says.

“Sure, I can..” Your mind trails off at the ‘sabotaging work’ part. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?

“Then I’ll leave you to it. Thank you.” Ninguangg says as she walks away.

Later on, you reach the site that was ‘attacked’ by a mysterious person. As you investigate you notice many trip wires and a few traps that were left behind to trick the millelith. These traps were made by someone who knew what they were doing and was an expert at it. However, by the time you got here, the sun had already begun to hide behind the horizon and you did not notice the last unactivated trap until you slipped on it and got trapped in ropes. You struggle for a few seconds before you hear the laughter of someone.

“After all the trouble you’ve successfully caused us, one would think you would be smart enough not to get trapped by such a simple device.” The familiar voice says.

Your heart rate increases as you recognize the voice.

“It’s you.. Tartaglia.”

“Oh, so you know my name? How interesting.”

“I promise not to make things hard for you guys anymore as long as you let me go.” You say half-sarcastically.

“Not even a sorry would be enough to get you out of this, and you didn’t even say that. I admire your confidence.”

You feel the shame begin to kick in as you’ve never been caught like this.

“Then what else is it that you want? Money? I’ll give it to you, just get me out of here!” You say flustered.

Tartaglia laughs as he says, “Oh no, I absolutely don’t need money. I just find it amusing seeing you here trapped and begging.”

You feel your face get red and your heartbeat increase, not able to say anything more.

Tartaglia crouches down to your level, holds your chin to force you to make eye contact, and says, “Fine, I’ll let you out if you do me a small favor.”

You feel your stomach become filled with butterflies as you look into his deep blue eyes illuminated by the full moon.

“...What is the favor?”

He only smirks in return.

“You couldn’t possibly mean..”

“Weirdly enough, I’ve actually learned to like you, you’re a very clever person and all so if it’s okay with you then one night won’t hurt. Right? And I promise I will stop messing with the millelith as well” Tartaglia says.

“You..” Left speechless, you don’t necessarily want to say no but it will cost nearly all of your dignity.

“It’s your choice, dear.” He says

At this point, you’ve become so flustered that it has now turned into arousal, and you can feel it down there.

At last, you mumble “Fine…”

“What was that?” He says playfully

“I.. I said fine!”

He chuckles as he efficiently but carefully cuts the ropes with his water blades (forgive me I can’t figure out what they are called).

Feeling your dignity slip away, you take off your clothes as he does the same (I mean but considering this is happening outside, it’s up to your imagination how many pieces of clothing you both have on <3). With one hand, he holds your chin again to face him, and with the other, he grabs your waist gently. He leans forward to give you a sweet kiss, leaning you against the wall. His other hand moves down from your waist to your leg, he picks you up to line yourself up to him.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise.”

You look down and become nervous noticing he’s just a little bit larger than you thought (totally just a little hehe), but oh well no backing down now!

He pushes himself into you and you can’t help but gasp at the overwhelming feeling down there. Once he sees you get used to it, he begins thrusting some more, his hips moving back and forth slowly. You try to cover your mouth and not let your moans and groans be heard, and Tartaglia smiles because of that.

He leans forward to your ear to whisper, “How adorable. You’re really cute, you know.”

After more thrusting, noises from both of you and such, you don’t know how much more you can take. You’re tearing up from the perfect mix between a whole lot of pleasure, and a little bit of pain.

“Please.. wait for me y/n.” He whispers into your ear and as he begins kissing your neck softly.

His moaning right by your ear isn’t helping your case, so after a few more thrusts you finally reach your climax, and start to become overstimulated because he doesn’t stop.

“Tartaglia! You have to stop!” You manage to mutter between gasps and groans.

At last, he also reaches his climax after a few deep thrusts that hurt, but in a pleasurable way.

“Sorry, y/n,” The jerk smiles innocently. “I promise to take good care of you, and I also promise to leave the millelith alone.”

The next, and very last response to Tartaglia shall be yours, dear reader! Or not, but thank you so much for reading this. It really means a lot. Anyways, my goal is to write one fanfic a week, and I’m thinking of doing a Dan Heng fanfic next. However, I would love to hear who you think I should write about! For now, I specialize in genshin impact and honkai star rail characters since for some reason they’re the easiest to write fanfics of. Thank you so much again for reading! Good byeeee!

#childe tartaglia ajax #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #gender neutral reader #nsft concept

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distopea · 2 years ago

Note

It was quite difficult for Gabriele to see how things might go from now on. He still felt paranoid regarding her true intentions, and the fact that she might be a very well-thought honey trap for any enemy of the Cleaners, but he had to admit that if it was the case, she was a good actress. She was perfecting innocence and sorrow, her sudden change of attitude definitely palpable. If he had truly hurt her feelings, he felt a little bit sorry, but surely he couldn’t allow himself to believe she might not be dangerous in the first place. He had never been good with small talks either, uncomfortable regarding a potential oversharing of emotions that were not welcomed in his line of work.

“They are perhaps suited for many people… I’m not really comfortable talking about myself in general. You probably have more manners and codes than I would ever have, so I apologize for my apparent rudeness. I tend to feel at ease in silence.” He could see that she was disheartened regarding his reaction, but it was hard for Gabriele to perceive her true intentions and he was also very impatient. He didn’t like to wait whenever he wasn’t sure about his safety, which only increased a paranoia induced by his numerous years as an undercover agent.

He observed her for a second, before he tried to figure out what could be shared so he wouldn’t be seen as someone too rude. If indeed she was the daughter of this politician, perhaps he needed at least a bit of effort so he would stay in good grace with this family. He sighed again, before he engaged in a rather short conversation. He still kept his distance with her, standing in a corner of the room, patiently waiting for her father to come.

“I can’t say much regarding my title or my position in society, but I can assure you that I don’t have evil intentions towards your father.” Mentioning his affiliation to the police department could increase her fear, so he decided to keep that detail for himself. He glanced at the door, then at the shelves inside the office. Maybe there were cameras to observe them? “That’s very kind of you to be worried, but I do believe he knows what he’s doing and if he doesn’t, I’ll guide him in the right direction, I can assure you.” He paused, trying to find a topic that could distract her from her current negative emotions.

God, it was awful. He really hated that situation. He never felt at ease whenever someone was exposing how scared and worried they were; because he had no solution for that and he wasn’t good at reassuring people. It was no wonder why she was kept away from political affairs; she seemed too young, and too immature to handle it properly. Yet, he still needed to try something while he was here. “Does your father receive a lot of people from different backgrounds? It seems that you’re used to keeping them waiting while he might be busy.” He eventually asked, as he offered, for once, a polite smile.

His reluctance was clearly visible. Even for her. Nunnally did not intend to pry into his personal matters, and perhaps apart from her questions about her father, she did not consider her questions as such. These were normal questions people asked. And talked about. At least people she knew. But the man in front of her was like no-one she had ever met. Nunnally suddenly considered herself to be impolite, and that was the last she wanted. But at the same time, she felt irritated. Annoyed. No-one had ever wanted to tell her anything; always keeping her away as if she was a child. And she was not anymore! She wanted to become a part of the world that her father was in, but obviously that would not be happening. At least not anytime soon.

When Gabriele declined the drink, Nunnally decided she could not ignore it anymore. She was doing that way too long anyway, and that was a path to nowhere. She also knew the man was lying. Perhaps not intentionally, perhaps he just did not know her father long enough. If her father expected that be a five-minute talk, with no follow-up and no further cooperation, this man would never had been invited here, to their home in the first place. Meetings like that were scheduled in the office. If he was here, he or his matter were considered important. And she knew her father started something important. She heard rumours. No matter what the man thought about her, she could be quiet and observant. And it helped that many of the staff considered her a naïve child. She was able to get bits and make a story. Though she seemed not to be getting anything from this man. Which was even more worrying for her. Her good mood had disappeared as quickly as it seemed to appear earlier. Not that it was there to trick the man. Although he might be thinking so… Or perhaps simply considered her a child.

Nunnally walked towards the window and looked outside. Ever since she was a little girl, a girl truly unwanted by her mother, she had always found comfort in this room alone.

“I, indeed, apologize.” – she stated seriously – “It was not my intention to ask you personal questions. I…I consider them suitable for the small talk we were just about to have. People usually feel comfortable talking about their families and jobs. I am sorry I made you feel uncomfortable.” - yes, she was curious about him. His words, his actions made him even more interesting in the girl’s eyes, but he obviously was not curious about her.

“My father should be here soon enough. Ten perhaps fifteen minutes. That would be my rough estimate, but if you’d like I can try to find out.” – she sighed – “I would assume, they would not let you wait here, if my father were to be significantly late. But if he is with the Prime Minister, it…it might become unpredictable.” – was she disclosing any secrets to him? Nunnally did not think so. It was a public knowledge both men were friends since childhood, and they would often appear together in press coverage. And since her father was a part of the government…

A strange thought, or perhaps realization hit Nunnally. She turned around to face the Gabriele. Her voice was concerned, perhaps even scared, when she talked: --

“I know there is something going on. Not sure what…but you…you are like no-one I have ever seen here…”

A pause…no, that did not make any sense.

“Anyway, please take care of my dad. He would hate me saying so, but he is all I have left.”

#; lured into wonderland #⌇the eyes of the ruthless justice ( 𝙂𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙚 | ic )#⌇the rabid dog ( 𝙂𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙚 | main verse )#⌇somewhere on the moon ( 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙪𝙚 )#; his cop nature is going back like a damn boomrang XD #; he feels nosy now

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ice-fire-or-clear · 2 years ago

Text

Take My Breath Away

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x f!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Basically Ice is tough and cool until the Reader is a badass who puts him into a tailspin. Mostly fluff :)

A/N: Ahhh quintessential Top Gun fic title time. Enjoy this short thing while I’m working on the next chapter of Further on the Edge! This came into my head and I just had to write it lol.

CW: alcohol, harassment (nothing toooo intense), non-graphic violence, blood mention, language

—

Ice made a face, baring his teeth for a second as the alcohol burned his throat. Normally, he only drank to enhance a good time. Tonight was different.

“How are you feeling after that one?” Slider grinned knowingly, shoving Ice’s shoulder good-naturedly after downing his own shot. Ice rolled his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment. This sort of thing didn’t happen very often to him.

Sighing, he turned away from Slider and glanced over his shoulder, hoping his pretense of glancing at the bar line was convincing. Of course, no such luck. Regularly putting yourself into life-or-death situations with someone tended to mean they knew your nervous habits.

“You know,” Iceman’s best friend and currently, biggest nuisance, started thoughtfully. “In all the years we’ve flown together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous. And if I did, I wouldn’t have expected it to be over a woman."

Ice glared over at Slider and his shit-eating grin. “Fuck you, I am not nervous.”

Slider’s smile only got wider.

“…whatever. I’m getting us another round.”

As the pilot made his way to the bar, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander over to their favorite topic. Several weeks ago, his home squadron received a new pilot, transferring in from the Replacement Fleet Squadron. New pilots weren’t that uncommon, and Ice usually didn’t take too much interest in the rookies, always overeager to impress everyone and way too confident in their own abilities.

Until you walked out on the flight deck one morning, ready to do your pre-flight checks just as Ice was coming in from his own patrol, and knocked him flat out on his ass.

No, really.

Cool, calm, calculated Iceman was so transfixed by you that he missed his step entirely, tumbling the last few feet to the ground. Slider looked like Christmas had come early. Things went from bad to worse when you jumped up from checking your own plane to jog over and see if he was okay.

“These things do come with a ladder, Lieutenant. Pretty sure they covered that in flight school,” you said, smiling over at him as he dusted himself off.

“Uh-huh,” he grumbled, keeping his gaze turned down so you would miss the red glow his cheeks had assumed. Slider could no longer contain his laughter.

Ice really didn’t mean to be so rude to you that day, you just… caught him off guard, is all. And every time he had seen you since then, he had always tried to re-introduce himself and apologize for the incident on the tarmac. But every time he tried to go over to you, he seemed rooted in his spot. One time, he made it all the way up to your table in the mess hall, but as soon as he was in front of you, the words died in his throat. All he could do was spin around with his tray of breakfast and make his escape, leaving you staring after him, confusion written all over your face.

Slider wasn’t the only one who had watched Iceman’s sudden romantic deterioration unfold. His crush was often the subject of “friendly” teasing from the other pilots, especially when they hoped you might be in earshot. (Thank god you never seemed to notice, fortunately.) Ice couldn’t even blame them, because even he was perplexed as to the loss of his ice-cold demeanor. It wasn’t like he hadn’t chatted up women before. He knew his way around one night stands, casual hookups, and even the odd semi-serious relationship or two. But he could tell there was something different, feeling drawn towards you in a way he never had before.

You could be a real menace in the air, an excellent wingman in a dogfight. He could see that you were definitely Top Gun bound at some point in your career. On the other hand, you lacked the cockiness and arrogance that he usually saw in the other accomplished pilots. You were kind, but not overly friendly, and you seemed to get along with pretty much everyone. And of course, you were a total knockout. Anyone could see that.

Ice just wished that he could push all of that out of his head for a second so he could properly talk to you.

Finding himself at the bar, he placed an order for another round, idly drumming his fingers on the wood as he scanned the room. There were so many sailors he recognized from the carrier, enjoying their short time on shore as best as they could. Slider had been hinting for weeks that this would be a great time to “make his move,” and Ice unfortunately had to agree with him. Spirits always seemed to be higher during leave.

The bar was both loud and rowdy, but nothing seemed too out of the ordinary until something across the bar caught Ice’s eye. He straightened up and turned in that direction, seeing something he hadn’t ever seen before: you frowning, and looking pissed the hell off. He leaned forward, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

You were seated at the bar, turned to face another sailor in his dress whites (how pretentious, Ice thought with a sneer), gesturing angrily at the beer in front of you. The sailor, who towered over not only you, but practically everyone in the bar, was rocking back and forth on his heels, a drunk and lecherous grin stretching his face. He leaned in, planting one hand on the bar and pointing back and forth between the two of you with his own beer as he responded.

Ice frowned as he watched, wondering what the hell that guy was doing. Clearly incensed by whatever he had to say, you stood up and went to leave, but stopped suddenly, almost as if you were jerked back. There was some flurry of movement he couldn’t see from his spot across the taps, but he felt his pulse start thundering when you tugged your arm up by your face. The sailor had wrapped his fingers around your wrist, so tight it had to hurt.

“Oh shit,” Ice mumbled as he pushed himself away from the bar, ignoring the looks people in the crowd gave him as he worked his way around to the other side. You tried to pull your arm away again, and while Iceman couldn’t make out what you were saying, he could hear your raised voice above the other patrons.

It only took Ice another few seconds to get to you, but when he laid eyes on you again, he came crashing to a halt.

It was almost like he saw it in slow motion.

You pulled back your free arm, hand balled into a fist, and without even a second’s hesitation, you let it land square in the middle of the guy’s face. Instantly, the man let go of your wrist and doubled over, clutching his face in pain. Blood was already spurting through his fingers as a couple of the surrounding sailors realized what he had done and dragged him off by his elbows, hopefully never to be seen again.

“Holy shit,” Ice whispered to himself in awe.

You glanced over at him, shaking out your hand. “Hey, Ice.”

“Shit, are you okay?” He cursed himself for not moving to check on you instantly.

You turned your head to watch the drunk man as he was thrown out, considering. “I’m pretty much fine.”

“I uh, came to rescue you,” he said lamely, the words sticking in his throat. “Guess you don’t really need a wingman now, huh?”

You snorted. “I’ve got it under control, I think. Splash one, and all that.”

You both laughed at that one.

And then you knocked Iceman flat out on his ass for a second time.

“You know, it would be nice if a man I was actually interested in bought me a drink tonight,” you said, very clearly eyeing him up and down.

After the shock passed over him, he flashed his signature dazzling smile, offering you his arm. “I could never be anything but nice to you.”

“Oh, I bet you’ll be real nice to me tonight,” you murmured into his ear as he led you to a booth.

You both pretended not to notice as Ice almost tripped over his own feet at that one.

#iceman #iceman x reader #iceman imagine #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #x reader #imagine

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kiss-inthekitchen · 3 years ago

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all that you ask of me | loki laufeyson

summary: you and Loki have a discussion about your kinks, and you learn something about him that you weren’t expecting

wc: 1.5k

warnings: smutty themes!! talk of bdsm, both reader and loki are switches and they aren't chill about it, teasing, light degradation but in a cute way, sub!loki, dom!loki, f!reader. loki has huge bisexual switch energy and i had to put it in a fic

a/n: title is kind of unrelated lol it makes more sense in the next chapter. pls let me know if you like it, i love when u guys leave comments or tags !

It’s been a few weeks since you and Loki had started dating and your sexual chemistry has been insane, which was a surprise to neither of you. You’d started out as friends, and even then, any time Loki had so much as brushed his fingers along your skin you felt something akin to electricity spike through your body. And though he was loath to admit it at first, Loki felt the same. So, once you finally gave in to your mutual feelings for each other, things only got more exciting.

Though the two of you had been having sex for weeks, you hadn’t really done anything too spicy yet, still getting used to this new aspect of your relationship. Now, though, you’d decided it would be a good idea to get it all out there, rather than try to figure it out as you went along. Besides, something about the idea of talking things out with Loki like it was nothing more than a casual conversation was thrilling to you.

You and Loki were sitting on the couch, your legs resting in his lap as he absentmindedly soothed circles into one of your calves. You smiled fondly at the way he always had to be touching some part of you. The two of you had covered a few topics already, going over safewords (you were partial to the traffic light system, and Loki agreed) and some of your hard limits, and now you were on to the fun part. Specifically, a rather exciting interest your partner had just confessed to.

“You know,” you mused, unable to keep the teasing smile off your face, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into submission, what with your whole...thing.”

“My whole thing?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows at your choice of words. You suppressed a laugh. He probably would’ve spent more time on his faux outrage if the look on your face wasn’t so damn cute. “Yes, well. I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”

You hummed in response. “I mean, I had hoped you’d be into it. Or, I guess, fantasized, would be the better w-”

“Did you?” He cut you off, sounding all too pleased.

“Oh, for a while now,” you smirked.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, the admiration in his eyes shifting to smugness as he continued, “I wouldn’t expect you to be a dom, what with your whole thing.”

You made a show of rolling your eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong, though. Compared to Loki, you were much more bubbly and warm, not that he was really so cold anymore, but he was still… him. On top of that, your style tended to lean more toward pastel colors, though lately you were known to also rock some dark green tones. You supposed that from the outside, people would assume you to be the more submissive one in the relationship. Which you definitely could be, but your tastes went both ways.

“Okay, I deserved that,” you relented. “Now come on, tell me what I want to know.”

“Okay, well. I’ve no problem with bondage, as I’m sure you know.”

“You do seem to end up in chains quite often, my love. But... not sexually?” You’d meant for it to be a statement, but then you realized you actually had no idea, your voice lilting up into a question.

He fixed you with a look that very clearly told you you’d been wrong.

Well, okay then. “Right,” you responded, a little breathier than before, trying not to let your imagination run wild just yet. Loki squeezed your ankle playfully, bringing you back before you could lose focus. “So, is there anything you’re not okay with, bondage-wise? Like, collars, ties, cuffs…?” You trailed off.

He thought for a moment. “No, it’s all fine with me. What about you?”

“Cuffs kinda freak me out, actually. I don’t have superhuman strength and all.”

“Noted. Oh, one thing I do want to mention- I’m going to have to ask that you refer to me exclusively as ‘Your Majesty’ when I’m in charge,” he said, expression unwavering.

Your mouth dropped open for a second before you asked, “Wait, seriously?”

He broke into a mischievous grin. “No. But if you’d really like to, I suppose I wouldn’t stop you,” he said the last bit thoughtfully, and you playfully hit his arm with the back of your hand in admonishment. “Ooh, harder,” he said, still with an air of mischief, though you got the sense he wasn’t entirely kidding.

“Loki!” you gasped.

“Alright,” he laughed lightly. “Great God of Mischief will work just as well.”

“I am not calling you that.”

“You’re being so difficult.”

“Will you just tell me what you like to be called already? If you carry on like this, I swear, I will call you Captain.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, glaring at you, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask, care to test that theory? “Okay, I yield. But, honestly, it depends on the scene. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll have you call me ‘sir’ most of the time, ‘daddy’ on special occasions. You’re a smart girl. I trust that you’ll know when those occasions come about.”

You just nodded, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Why were you having such a reaction to Loki calling you a smart girl? He’d definitely noticed.

“What would you like to be called? When you’re the dominant?” Loki asked, saving you from your thought spiral.

“Oh, um. Ma’am is fine. None of the other terms really work for me, I don’t know why, they just seem kind of… too much, I guess,” you over-explained, feeling your cheeks start to heat up.

“Ma’am is just fine?” Loki pressed.

“No, it’s- it’s good. I, um, really like it.” Your cheeks flamed even hotter now, your gaze trained on the couch cushion.

Loki reached out and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “Come now, you were doing so well. Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, voice taking on that deep timbre that made you feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Okay,” you breathed, your mind gone completely blank as you looked at him.

“Good girl,” he said softly. He didn’t miss the way your body reacted to the praise, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Bastard. You narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head slightly to clear it. “That’s not fair,” you countered weakly.

“Isn’t it? I’m just trying to figure out what you like,” he feigned innocence.

“Right,” you said, only a little petulantly, trying to think of what else you wanted to ask him before he’d distracted you. “How do you feel about degradation?” You blurted out. “Receiving, I mean.”

That caught him off guard, to your great enjoyment. “I- I’m not sure. No one’s ever tried it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been tied up but no one’s ever called you names?”

“No,” he responded, frowning slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I think I might be okay with it.”

“My honey, you’ve been so deprived,” you said with a pout. It was your turn to have a little fun now. “So,” you started, trailing your fingertips up his forearm, drawing his attention to your touch before you continued. “If, for example, I had you on your knees, and you were being so good for me, and I just happened to call you my obedient little slut-” he inhaled sharply, and you couldn’t help but grin, “-you would, theoretically, be okay with that?” You looked up into his eyes, seeing the flash of desire that had settled there.

“I think that would be acceptable,” he spoke, clearly putting in effort to keep his voice even.

You smiled, pleased with yourself. It was cute that he still tried to seem unaffected when you could literally feel the way his cock had stiffened against you. You shifted the position of your leg in his lap, lightly brushing against him, and he gasped.

“Pathetic,” you chide.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he may try to seem unimpressed with your teasing, he was certainly susceptible to it. “If you want us to get through the rest of the conversation, you’re going to have to stop that,” he says, but it comes out more like a plea than an order, and he’s sure that you’re going to be the death of him.

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.”

“It seems I’ve underestimated you, dearest,” he says, tone laced through with affection.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, drawing him closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Well, that’s a mistake we won’t make twice. Isn’t it, love?”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #sub!loki #dom!loki #mcu loki #i had too much fun writing this lmao #it's the switching for me!!!#bisexual switch messes only in this house <3 #my fics #pls interact w this if you liked it i need validation lol

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twdbegins · 3 years ago

Text

A Second Round

Simon x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Blood. Mentions of violence.

Word Count: 2.4k

“What? Listen, he had it coming.”

“You can’t stay mad at me forever, sweetheart.” Simon charmed, a grin beaming wide on his face.

He didn’t get a verbal response from you, only a pissed off glance that sent a chill down his back. You continued to wrap his right hand that had busted knuckles and bruising skin that was stained with blood – giving him the silent treatment as you worked. It wasn’t often that you were irritated and upset with him, but it always gave him the jitters on the rare occasion that you were. You weren’t pleasant when you were angry, because it took more than the average person to get revved up. Simon was less level-headed, and that was part of the reason that he was in this situation now.

“I didn’t beat him that bad. He walked out of here pretty unharmed, right?” Simon questioned, speaking again to try to get an answer out of you.

That much was true. It had been more of a courtyard scuffle rather than a blowout fight. It was only enough for each of them to throw a few punches before getting broken up and separated. The other Savior didn’t have much injury other than an achy hand and a swelling eye that would be black and blue by the time morning came around. Simon had come in shortly after, just as you were closing the infirmary up for the night. His bloodied nose and the way he had been cradling his shredded hand was an immediate tell – and the victorious smile on his face had been a giveaway too.

“I just don’t know how many times I have to tell you to stop getting hurt at my expense.” You didn’t answer his initial question, keeping your motions gentle as you continued to tend to his hand.

“This is only the second time that I’ve gotten into a scrap with him. This time wasn’t nearly as bad as last time,” Simon reminded you. “I’m not just going to let him get away with shit-talking you.”

“He’s not worth it, Si. You know that.”

“I know, I know. I still can’t just turn the other way,” Simon’s free hand came to your hip to touch you. “You mean too much to me.”

Simon’s fateful Savior opponent wasn’t the most well-liked guy. He had only been at The Sanctuary for about six or seven months, and he had caused quite a stir in the current duration of his time. He had an ego that was so inflated that it was about the only thing that anyone could really notice about him. He wasn’t very fond of the idea of having to work his way up to a higher standing, and he really didn’t like the fact that it was impossible for him to get to the top. This guy found ways to fight everybody over absolutely anything. Simon thought of it as a dominance complex, but whatever it was, it was annoying.

Simon didn’t like him, and he didn’t like Simon. Simon did everything he could to keep his interactions limited with him, only conversing with him when he had to. Simon could handle the harsh comments and the threats when they were directed towards himself – he was used to Saviors who thought that they were bigger than what they were trying to get under his skin. Simon had developed an extreme patience for dealing with that, and now it was hardly even a blip in his day when those comments did make it to his ears.

Simon knew who he was, and he knew what his title held for him. As long as you and Negan were on good terms with him, then he didn’t rightly care about much else. However, today’s fight had been the second one in the last three months – and it wasn’t because the Savior in question had finally gotten to Simon.

The Savior wasn’t thrilled to learn that pretty much all of the women were off limits. The woman that he was interested in often held a “Negan’s wife” title, and he almost learned the hard way just how that system worked. It was one of his main complaints, because he was pretty much desperate for any lady to give him any kind of attention. All of the Saviors knew who you were – considering it was pretty standard to have to pay your infirmary a visit at least three or four times a year, not including the annual physical. When he caught word that you weren’t one of Negan’s wives, he was all over it. The catch was that no one told him that you had been with Simon for just over three years, and that information was lost on him. He started coming into the infirmary several times a week, and each visit was less urgent than the last.

It didn’t take you very long to figure out why he was coming by, which was when you had to deliver the news to him that you were indeed not on the market. Not surprisingly, that didn’t stop his attempts – and it wasn’t until you had to get Negan and Simon involved that he eased off. He was embarrassed from the rejection and annoyed that he had struck out once again, so he started loud-mouthing you. No one believed any of the shit he said, so his comments really just turned into insults. You brushed them off, not thinking anything of it – but Simon didn’t brush them off, not even close.

“I don’t want to have to get used to patching you up every other week,” You told him, your tone a little more friendly than before. “You can’t afford to get hurt over someone like him.”

Simon scoffed at that. He hardly considered him any real threat. Besides, Negan was always on Simon’s side, so it wasn’t like he was risking getting into any massive trouble. Simon was pretty sure that someone bigger and angrier would take care of that Savior’s loud mouth without Simon even having to play into it. He wasn’t worried, but that didn’t stop him from reassuring you.

“I promise you, doll. I’d fight him any day.” Simon snickered.

“Simon!” You scolded.

“What? Listen, he had it coming.” Simon defended himself.

“You don’t have anything to prove, you know.” You reminded him, and he nodded.

“I know that,” He agreed. “But would you stand aside if one of the wives started talking shit about me?”

Simon knew he had you pinned there. You were a bit hypocritical for thinking the desire to defend the other’s dignity was a one way street. It was the truth after all – you would’ve done the same thing if the roles had been reversed.

The first time that Simon had heard your name come out of the Savior’s mouth had been a bad altercation. Simon didn’t even give the guy a chance to explain or allow any room for reasoning. Simon beat him to the ground, and beat him until he physically couldn’t anymore. That had been a rough cleanup, and it took almost two weeks for Simon to heal up and start feeling well again. Simon’s injuries had been nothing compared to his opponent, who was out of commission for double the time that Simon was.

You had not been happy with Simon after that fallout. Your worry and concern drifted into aggravation once you had gotten Simon taken care of because you never, ever wanted Simon to pick fights with people over you. Simon hadn’t regretted what he had done, but he wasn’t pleased with knowing that it had upset you like it had. That hadn’t been his intention whatsoever, but he made a note to himself not to let it get so out of hand next time. Simon honestly didn’t even expect there to be a next time. He assumed that his message had been crystal clear and duly delivered. He was proven wrong, though, when the same thing happened again.

Simon had been finishing up for the night, doing last minute chores and making sure everyone else was squared away. He was navigating through The Sanctuary, passing through the lower warehouse when he heard the Savior’s dreaded voice – and the content of what he was saying was even less admired. It was the same criticisms as before, and it seemed that Simon’s nemesis hadn’t learned his lesson. Simon had kept you in mind as he decided what to do to handle the situation. He truly did try to talk it out first, but didn’t get very far. The fight was broken up before it could escalate to anything major – and Simon didn’t even stick around to bask in the glory. He instead went straight to you to both gossip about it and get his hand fixed up.

“Just try to avoid him….more than you already have,” You requested of him dryly, wrapping the last of his now clean and dressed hand. “Give your hand a few days to heal.”

Simon’s hand fell from your side when you walked away to go back to the cabinet, and he looked at his bandaged hand.

“Do you think I’ll have a scar?” Simon asked, changing the subject.

You reached for a pack of clean gauze, taking it into your hands as you looked back at Simon. He was observing his hand closely, an amused smirk on his face as he looked it over.

“I don’t think so,” You told him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ah. I guess I can’t win ‘em all.” He sighed.

He could tell that you still weren’t pleased with him, but you were beginning to crack. The truth was, you were grateful that Simon felt compelled to stand up for you – but you never liked the thought of him getting hurt over it. There were some massively strong Saviors at The Sanctuary, and some of them were bigger than Simon. There had been Savior fights not involving Simon that you had to see the aftermath of, and it wasn’t always pretty. You had seen Saviors nearly beaten to death, and some of them had been beaten to death. You were only irritated over Simon getting involved because you cared about him – if you didn’t love him, then you wouldn’t bitch at him about it.

“So, does your boyfriend get a kiss for being such a good patient?” He asked when you returned to stand in front of him.

His feet dangled off of the exam table as he sat patiently, his brown pools staring up at you with expectation.

“If you stay still and let me clean you up, then maybe.” You replied, soaking the corner of one of the gauze pads in a cleaning disinfectant – it was the best supplies that you had to get the blood off.

Simon’s nose area was bloodied and red, staining his skin and his facial hair. You carefully wiped and rid his face of the dried blood, being careful not to aggravate his nose in case it was broken.

“What are you going to tell Negan in the morning? You know he’s going to sit you down and grill you about it.” You said, apologizing when he winced when you touched a sensitive spot on his nose.

“I’ll tell him the same as last time,” Simon shrugged. “Fucker was being an asshole.”

“And that’ll hold up?” You acquired.

“Sure it will. I think he’d be disappointed if I gave him any other reason,” Simon chuckled. “Do you think I’ll be fine to work tomorrow?”

Simon’s nose didn’t feel broken anywhere, and the worst case scenario was that it’d be sore for him for a couple of days. Simon was relatively unscathed, and for that you were thankful.

“Yeah, just don’t do too much with your hand. I can take a look at it again in the morning,” You offered. “It’ll be okay in a week or so.”

Simon nodded with understanding, standing from the table and rising to his feet. He used his good hand to pull you into him, his tall frame towering over you. You didn’t react much, and he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

“Don’t be like that, baby. You know that I don’t make a habit out of getting into fights,” He pleaded for something other than the cold shoulder, “Kiss me.”

It was tempting. Everything about him was tempting. He knew that he had you beat, and that you couldn’t stay pissed off about something that you easily would’ve done too. Against your wishes, your lips crept into a smile – your head raising to kiss him sweetly. He chuckled into the kiss, a feeling of relief flushing over him. He was serious this time that he was done getting into squabbles with that guy, because Simon knew better than to test his luck by asking for your forgiveness over and over again.

“Are you tired?” You asked when you pulled away.

“Unbelievably.” He answered, and it was clear on his face.

“Well, what do you say we go to bed? It’s late, and I could use a good night of sleep.” You told him, and he agreed with that statement.

You put everything back in the cabinet and closed everything up for the night. You’d be back in the morning, but it was always best to secure everything. You and Simon walked to his room side by side, catching up on each other’s days before the fight.

“Negan wants me to scout some place that someone tipped him off about. Apparently it potentially has some useful stuff,” Simon explained as the two of you climbed the staircase to your floor. “I’m supposed to be going with Arat, but I’m sure that I could convince her to take a raincheck if you want to go instead.”

“I’d have to ask Negan. He might want me to stick around for any unforeseen fist fights.” You tried to hide your smirk as he held the door open for you to walk past him.

“Come on, honey. Cut me some slack,” Simon huffed, following you through the door and pulling you back into him by your waist to make you stop walking. “I only did it because I love you.”

That much you knew, and you couldn’t help but notice the sudden warmth in your cheeks at his words of affection.

“I know. I just wish you’d be a little more careful.” You admitted, and his expression turned sympathetic.

“I’m always careful,” He professed, pressing his lips to the center of your forehead. “I’ll always make sure that I make it back to you at the end of the day.”

#simon twd #simon twd x reader #simon twd x fem! reader #simon twd x female reader #simon twd x you #simon twd x y/n #simon twd fluff #simon twd hurt/comfort #simon twd oneshot #simon twd oneshots #simon twd imagine #simon twd imagines #simon twd fanfic #simon twd fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twdbegins

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broadwayandnetflix · 3 years ago

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i have a request for bo burnham!!:) maybe like the reader and bo watch the special when he gets done editing it and doing all the other stuff he has to do for it, and he records her reaction to the whole thing and that’s how he announces the special?? i know that’s weird but it’s been stuck in my head, so you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!

Test Run - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: FLUFF (angst if you like squint)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: y’all I wrote this so fast, like kachow. I hope you enjoyed it, and got a break from all of the angst. but angst is still good. but this fic is not me fangirling over inside. never, couldn’t be me. I hope you enjoyed the fic though @bos-a-feminist I had sm fun writing it.

It had been late one evening when Bo had practically burst into the door of your bedroom. You sat puzzled as you gave the man time to catch his breath, as he gave you an eager look.

Trying not to giggle as Bruce yipped at Bo’s feet in pure excitement, it seemed he too was trying to figure out what was going on.

“What? Are we finally gonna have sex again?” you say humorously, causing the man to break composure for just a second.

“No! I mean what the fuck? Yes, yes, and to answer your question, yes. But not right now.”

You giggle as he looks at you with an expression you couldn’t fully decipher. In any constellation, it had been months since you had seen the man this energetic.

Usually, when Bo would come back from his long days in the guest house, he’d tend to be exhausted. Often just giving you a quick kiss before collapsing onto the mattress.

His blue eyes softening towards you as he extends his hand for you to take. Which made you realize that there was an ounce of seriousness in his actions.

Your hands fitting perfectly in his as he pulls you up from the bed, one hand making sure to hold the small of your back.

“Where are we going?” you breathe out.

Bo remained silent, but you found out soon enough as he led you outside to the guest house.

You had stopped dead in your tracks, causing him to do the same. Eyes widening as you realized what was gonna happen, turning to Bo and giving him the biggest grin you could muster.

From the minute he had set foot in the guest house to begin his special, he had been very secretive about it. Something about how it helped him to create something that no one really knew about.

I mean, you had some idea when the UPS trucks kept delivering camera equipment. Or when he had asked if he could take some of your clothes. Other than that, though, top secret.

It had been about roughly a little over a year when he had started the special. A year of emotions and hard work, and by the looks of it.

It seemed as though he had finished.

“Wait are you doing what I think you are doing?” you say, looking at him expectedly.

“Shit babe you catch on quick. Yes, if we are on the same mindset. I think we are, now hush, or I’ll never get to show you it.” Bo instructs before leading you inside.

In all honesty, you didn’t know what to expect. The last time you had seen the guest house had been roughly two years ago. Now? It looked completely different.

Wires and different camera equipment lay waste on the floor, making it almost a hazard. Other lights of various types and sizes filled the room like mini metal trees. It looked disorganized and yet organized at the same time.

Yet Bo walked through the maze of equipment with ease, almost as if it wasn’t even there. You smiled before tiptoeing to the clearing that Bo had made for you.

“Yeah apologies, I wasn’t expecting company.” Bo smirks as you break into laughter.

“It looks…well it looks well used.” you reply, getting comfortable on the chair he had provided.

In front of you sat a projection on the wall of what seemed to be an editing software. You looked back at Bo with an eager grin; he gives you a slight wink.

Anticipation settling in the air as you watched him mess around with the monitor. Until his cursor finally presses on a folder and a video screen pulls up.

You half expected him to sit beside you. Still, instead, he remains behind the computer, amongst his sea of technological instruments and cameras.

“Y/N, I’m showing this to you. Simply because you deserve to see why I’ve been so busy for like a year or more. Plus, you mean the world to me and I wanna know your input.”

Bo says softly. You can detect a hint of nerves in his actions and tone; you practically melt, realizing that was he anxious. Regardless you knew without a shadow of a doubt you were gonna love whatever he puts out.

You open your mouth to reply before he presses play, and an eerie ringing fills the room. Music filling your senses as the special, titled Inside, plays before you.

The next hour or two fills you with a multitude of emotions that you can’t quite place. It seemed like Bo was making you laugh seconds ago, and now you can’t help but feel tears well up in your eyes.

Cinematically it was stunning, breathtaking even. It was hard to believe that Bo had turned the little guest house into a studio. Or at least to the extent that it became, with its gorgeous displays and production.

Performance-wise, it was a completely different ballpark. Bo fucking delivered in more ways than one, whether in humor or just pure raw emotion.

Acting or not, it broke your heart to see the man you loved so dearly in the state that he was in. Of course, you could tell something was up even then when he was filming, but he never gave away the extent of it.

Just hearing him cry made your stomach twist in knots; you wanted to comfort him. Only to be reminded that it was just merely a video of him.

Even at the moment, it took you everything not to look back at Bo; you knew how much he valued your attention. Plus, you wanted to experience the special in full, just as you would if he were on stage.

The special wasn’t the same as his others, but it was well needed for a time like this. It felt personal and introspective, but it was also oh so clever and in-depth. You adored it and the time and effort that he had put into it.

As the credits rolled out and you saw an acknowledgment for your name, your heart soared.

You knew that the two of you had worked hard to be there for each other the past year. Especially with everything that was going on and Bo working most of the time.

To know that you had helped him in any shape or form. It just meant a lot, in more ways than he’d ever know.

The lights in the room flickered on as if he had made a make-shift movie theatre. You wiped away any stray tears, and before he could even say anything, you ran into his arms.

Bo jolting back in surprise before accepting the embrace and holding you tighter into his chest. His head resting gently on top of yours due to his taller stature.

“God I love you so much, more than you’ll ever know. I seriously don’t know if I would’ve made it out alive this past year if I didn’t have you.” he croaked into your hold.

It took you a second to realize that the man was crying, and you pulled away to meet his eyes. Your fingers brushing away his tears before reaching up to give him a kiss.

His figure bending down just a tad to meet your lips as he kisses you back sweetly. It’s light and yet so filled with passion for making up for what time that had been lost.

Yet as he looks down at you, a smile etching across his lips. As he asks you about what your thoughts are on his special, he already knows your response.

Unbeknownst to you, he had recorded your entire viewing experience. Of course, if he were to ever share it anywhere, he’d ask your permission, but it was apparent.

Even as you told him how much you loved it and how much you enjoyed it. You knew that he knew that you understood the special the way he had intended it.

It was one of the many things that made him adore you endlessly. You meant the world to him.

“We should celebrate babe! Maybe order a pizza or something.” you exclaim, arms still wrapped around his neck in your embrace.

“We definitely should, but what pizza places are open at this hour?” Bo smirks as you give him a slight frown.

“I don’t know, that’s a good question.” you hesitate.

“Actually I do know one place that’s really good and delivers.” Bo whispers seductively up against your ear.

You giggle and gesture for him to continue as he swiftly pulls away from your hold. His hand outstretched for you to take once again as he leads you towards the house. Or, more importantly, towards your bedroom.

“Me.”

——————————————————————------------------------------------

Bo sat anxiously beside you as his fingers lingered over the ‘post’ button on his different social media accounts.

The post in question was a video that he stitched together of you watching the special. With your consent, of course.

It had been edited together to be vague enough that he wouldn’t spoil the special. But nonetheless, it was sweet, and he totally made sure to include you tearing up in it.

You made it a priority to tackle him for that one.

The video was sweet and short, but it got the intended message across, and you personally loved it, just like you loved Bo and the special.

“Any-day now Robert.” you tease as you hold his one hand in yours.

“Do you think that they’ll wanna watch it?” he whispers quietly.

“Of course they will, it’s you. Baby you are so talented, your fans will be so excited.” you reassure.

Bo sighs before squeezing your one hand tightly before pressing the button. And letting Inside out into the world.

#@broadwayandnetflix #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham #bo Burnham x you #2021 #fluff #Fanfic Request #inside #make happy #words words words #what

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