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cas-backwards-tie · 2 months ago

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Chapter One: News Crashing

Poly!TaskForce 141 x Omega!Reader

The Omega Pack Plan Masterlist

Summary: A change in procedure around base causes you to spiral as your world comes crashing down. There's only one way out of this and it starts with telling the truth.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety, Existentialism, Misogyny, Dismissive Attitudes, Angst, Rage

Mentions of: Medication,

A/N: Honestly, I'd been inspired by a few series (Standard Emergency Protocol and Pantry Solutions) I've read those and it caused me to want to write my own ABO COD AU, so I started this as a sort of funny fic awhile ago. I'm haven't entirely plotted out the whole story, but I have some ideas for the first few chapters. I was finally inspired to finish and post it because @cringeycookies liked the snippet I posted in a wip tag game. So thanks to everyone who inspired me, and a special thank you to @penelopepine for helping me with the dialogue and Price's reaction as I try to begin writing for them.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the nurse responds, "we're no longer authorized to refill suppressants of any kinds for any purpose." With a push of the empty orange pill bottle back across the counter in your direction, she offers you an ugly forced smile.

"Is there really nothing we can do?!" You complain incredulously, "Nothing at all? What am I supposed to do with this?!" Taking the emptied bottle into your hands, you stare at the nurse with widened eyes and a wild look.

"There is no 'we'..." she rolls her eyes in response, focus returning to the papers before her. "But if you insist, you can always bring it up with your CO, or the Base Commander." She scribbles something out on the page, but you can hardly focus when your world is virtually crumbling apart around you. "Now if you don't mind, some of us actually have work to do around here."

Still stunned, you can't help the way your breathing picks up as your heart begins to race. About a month ago now there was a base-wide meeting where they'd finally cracked down and implemented a new program the government is trying out: OPP. The Omega Pack Plan. While it's uncommon for Omegas to even be recruited into the military to begin with, such a thing does exist. Regardless, the Base Commander gathered everyone in the Auditorium for a presentation to talk about the new program and how the army would implement it into the troops. Luckily, considering you're on an elite Task Force, it doesn't apply to you. At least... it didn't.

"What the hell is this?!" You yell, tossing the orange bottle in his direction.

He'd heard the stomps all the way down the hall and smelled you coming, so he's neither surprised by your appearance, nor startled by the toss of the bottle. John swiftly catches it in his hand as he looks up at you. "What?" He inquires, finally glancing down to examine what he's caught. "A pill bottle?"

"Captain, it's empty! They won't refill it- I can-"

A groan tumbles past his lips as he drags a hand down his beard. "Look, Panther-" referring to you by your callsign, interesting move. "There's nothing I can do, it's over my head now. I wish I could do something, but I can't." Sitting back in his leather chair, Price places the bottle on the desk; a faint rap of the plastic hitting the wood is the only sound between you momentarily before you hurriedly shut the door.

Panic begins to flood your system as you're not sure how to handle this. It's your turn to freak out. You know how this goes, you know the story now; ever since they'd implemented and dispersed the Omegas into the troops, they'd started implementing them into the Task Forces, and now they have to do so with the One Four One. Fingers curling in and out of shapes as you try to process your next move, you speak before you can even begin to plan what you're going to tell him.

"I- I'm- I..." You're pacing his office now, the heavy gaze of your Captain upon you as you try to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. The thing is, you're usually good with pressure- really good. It's your job to be good. It's just... this is different. This is your life, your livelihood at stake, the livelihood of all your future generations to come.

A sigh resounds throughout the office before you hear the low timbre of his voice. "Dove," he calls out with a gentle tone, "I want you to take a deep breath for me. Alright?" With the calm and even sound of your Captain's voice and the assured look on his face, you comply. Exhaling the last of your breath, you close your eyes and focus in on the deep intake of air through your nose. With the parting of your lips you slowly release it before giving yourself a moment.

When you open your eyes he gestures to the seat before his desk, though you know he won't take offense if you decline. Hesitant, one hand finds its way to the other, wrapping around your arm as you listen to him speak. "Now, can you explain what has you in this state? I assure you that there's nothing that can't be dealt with." You want to trust him, you know him--John Price--your Captain. He's always had your back, always made sure you felt comfortable in the Taskforce, always made an effort to check on you after things got rough.

You nod. Licking your lips, you search his blue eyes as you tentatively take the seat across him.

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it, alright? I can guarantee you that unless you're trying to tell me you're an Omega, nothing you say is going to shock me that warrants the amount of panic you're putting yourself through," Price chuckles. He's obviously joking, trying to break the tension with humor. Lips drawn upward into a small smile, the Captain stares at you expectantly.

"What if I am?" You whisper, eyes unable to tear from his visage as you try and gauge his reaction. Unexpectedly, silence fills the space between you and feels deafening in the small space. The growing comfort of his office these couple of months now feels like a cage you're forced to stay in, under watch, as you stare down your superior on the brink of a battle to the death. And that's what you do. His blue eyes bore into yours, skeptically shifting between your left and right as he seems to try and get a read on you.

All of the sudden you jump at the smack of his hands hitting the desk in front of him. He laughs at you.

He's laughing at you.

And you're sitting there with your guts spilled out, dread eating away at the pit in your stomach... and he's laughing. It feels like forever is passing you by as you stare at him in shock, this moment between the two of you frozen in time as nothing else persists.

"I understand what this was now," Price explains, still chuckling to himself as he shakes his head. There's a warm smile on his face that feels eerie considering the dire context of the situation at hand. "You got me! I fully believed you for a second there, too."

Eyebrows furrowing in dark realization, you can't help but stare at him wildly. "Wha-" You begin to question him and his line of thinking, but he cuts you off.

"This was all a prank, right? The bottle, the hysterics- you really outdid yourself, Sergeant." Leaning back in his chair, he props his ankle up on his other knee. "Because let me tell you, this was good. Better than anything Soap's cooked up in awhile. Did you come up with it yourself?" There's a cheeky grin on his lips. "Ah, I know you did."

Lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, you sit in the armchair across from him pale with a dazed look across your face. He doesn't actually think that this was...

"Well, with your little triumph in your pocket, I say we get back to work, yeah? I've got some new leads from MI6 that've just popped in." With that, the man stands from his desk and rounds it. "Garrick should be back around Tea. I'll see you in the Command Station then," he informs you. It's then that he passes by, a genial clap on your shoulder while he's at it.

Left stunned in silence, you can't help but grit your teeth, consequentially pronouncing your jaw as anger ebbs through your bloodstream. Breath getting heavier, you can't help but loathe the meeting tonight. Your Captain might be satisfied with the conversation, but all you feel is discouraged. He's abandoned you, left you alone in his office with a humiliating sense of betrayal and shattered trust. Almost like you hadn't just told him your biggest secret at all.

Punching the standard heavy punching bag hanging in front of you, you grunt, ignoring the pain that gnaws at your knuckles underneath the reusable hand wraps. Sweat builds on your brow as you continue to unleash your pent up anger on the gym’s equipment. How could he?! When had you ever pulled anything even similar to this? Never! And the fact that you’ve only been on the team for a handful of months only exacerbates the abandonment you’re feeling right now. He’s your Captain! Regardless of your feelings or the situation at hand, isn’t he supposed to be there for you? He’d promised from the get go to help you with whatever you need, and now the one time you go to him for aid it backfires in your face and leaves you without any sort of solution going forward aside from straight up telling the whole team the flat out truth, and God forbid! You can’t even begin to fathom how that’d go.

A pent up and frustrated yell almost akin to something of a growl emanates from you as you tear into another round of swift jabs and punches. Regardless of the situation at hand, you’ve been trying to build up your upper body’s strength and letting out the anger you’d accumulated over this morning’s events seemed like a perfect opportunity to let loose.

The stretches and treadmill routine didn’t take a lot out of you, but the weights, and now the punching bag definitely is starting to take its toll. Sweat beads at your forehead in rivulets that drip down the sides of your neck, down your scalp past your neck and between your shoulder blades. Tank top soaked in sweat, you breathe hard as your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. You would’ve wound up here at some point or another tonight, but the Captain’s discourteous response certainly led to an earlier workout time.

While others sparsely litter the gym’s floor, you pay them no mind and vice versa. It’s not uncommon for soldiers to be found blowing off steam or aiming to beat their highest reps on the weights. Yet, this gym is reserved for higher standing members of the Force, the gym on the far side of the base where there are less people, offices, and considering the regular army men train in the bigger gym closer to their quarters, it’s mostly other higher ranked officers in here.

“Captain’s lookin’ for ya,” Markowski, another Sergeant that you’d come to befriend on base announces from the doorway, having poked his head in after leaving a few minutes earlier. He belongs to a different Task Force.

A groan tumbles out of you as you realize it’s already that time. Just as the door clicks shut, your phone chimes loudly with the alarm you’d set earlier going off. A few quick swipes of your fingers, you turn the alarm off and unlock the device, seeing a number of messages flood your notifications.

Kyle: You hear they’ve bumped up the timeline? 😯

Johnny: “ https://Tiktok/Shattered.Rat567 ” Had me rollin’ 🤣👏🏻 Gotta check it, Bonnie

Simon: You coming to the meeting or not? 🤨

Johnny: Where r u? You’re usually first here 👀 Cap’s getting peeved, watch out

Not looking forward to the inevitable mess of a meeting before you, you don’t bother rushing to join the men. With a wash of your face in the women’s locker room, a speedy bathroom break, and a grab of the items you’d brought with you, you’re heading for the Command Station.

With the time Price set the meeting, you won't get to eat dinner till afterward. You'd be lying if you said you weren't annoyed by this entire situation, your agitation from neglecting your hunger earlier has certainly come to bite you in the backside.

While you don’t have time to respond to their texts, having set the alarm with only enough time to get back to your team’s Command ‘station’ albeit more like your headquarters before heading out. Speed-walking through the orderly halls with a haste perfectly common around here, you navigate with a well practiced knowledge. Though you’ve only been here coming up on six months soon, you’re well acquainted with this part of the base.

Rounding the corner, you’re in the hall, close. Yet, the worry of being late lingers in the back of your mind and adds another layer of annoyance on top of your residual anger buried deep down from this morning’s situation. You’d inevitably come up with your solution. It’s not one you like… but it’s the only logical option. Another turn and you’re striding into the big garage-like room.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sergeant,” Price calls out to you. Lifting his eyes from the map laid out across your station's table, he glares in your direction.

“What took you so long?” Soap snaps, his brows slightly furrowed as he stares at you from the opposite side of the table, hands lazily wrapped around his vest’s straps.

A look at your watch tells you that you’re not even late, the meeting doesn’t officially start for another minute! But you are usually waiting on them. He’s got you there.

“Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. It’s not like you,” Gaz whispers under his breath as you sidle up alongside Ghost, Gaz standing diagonal to you right beside Price at the head of the table.

“Focus,” Ghost orders the men, his hands tucked in his hoodie’s pocket. You don’t fail to notice the way he subtly takes a step further away from you as soon as they start talking again. Price goes back to talking plans as Gaz is questioning the circumstances of the information the Captain had acquired earlier when he’d had to leave the office.

“Which is exactly why-”

A heavy exhale on your behalf leaves the men frozen as their eyes drift back to you. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Panther?” The Captain questions. Jaw clenched, you tear your eyes from the map they’d settled on.

“We’ve got a big problem,” you announce, cutting off the Captain as you finally raise your gaze to meet Price’s slightly widened blue eyes.

“Well, if you see something that needs changin’ then let’s hear it,” he responds. A ‘hmph’ follows as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits his weight back onto his heels.

“It’s not about the op,” you correct him. Tilting your head side to side you attempt to crack the kinks in your neck while standing a little straighter to appear more engaged and serious.

“And it’s more important than this? What we’re doin’ right now?” Soap questions, his hands dropping to rest on the table as he looms over it, eyeing you with frustration obvious in his irises.

“What is it?” Gaz asks, a quirk of his eyebrow garnering your attention for a split-second. He’s genuinely asking, and there doesn’t seem to be a hostility in his scent as he turns his attention to you. Then there’s Ghost, who you don’t even need to look at to feel his heavy gaze on you, waiting expectantly.

“Actually, it is,” you argue with Soap, anger beginning to boil in your belly, the frustration and angst having been left to simmer all afternoon. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I came to you earlier,” you turn your anger on Price. He looks taken aback by the outburst, something you’re not known for.

“Dove,” he calls calmly, hands out in an attempt to pacify.

“Don’t-” you bark, starting to raise your voice without realizing it. “I came to you in confidance! Trusting you when you said you’d be there to help me if I ever needed it! How could you?” Gritting your teeth, you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing as your chest heaves with anger.

“Woah, woah-” Gaz sputters, “What-” holding his hands out to try and diffuse the argument.

“I let myself be vulnerable-” You continue to shout.

“Isn’t this something that shoul-” Soap attempts to dissuade, backing down as he puts his hands out.

“-and tell you the truth, and-” you’re lunging for him across the table. You’re held back by a massive hand on your shoulder. “You laugh in my face?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You're suddenly pulled back, off your feet, and shoved into a metal chair that'd been nearby. Your Lieutenant is hovering over you, his cold eyes now tinged with a spark of anger as they bore into you scrutinizingly. There's the sound of commotion behind him, multiple voices overlapping, yet you can't see anything with that utter giant in front of you!

“Does anyone wanna explain what the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” Ghost snaps. It's only then when the man steps aside that you can see where everyone is. With both of you in your respective corners, you simply glare at the Captain from over your crossed arms out in front of you.

“Are you bleedin’ kidding me, ya Scally?” Price grunts as he shrugs Gaz’ hand off his shoulder. “You’re still on about it! When w-"

"That doesn't explain what happened, Cap," Gaz interrupts, stopping him from going off and getting them nowhere.

He groans, running a hand over his face once more before composing himself. Everyone waits for an explanation—you too—he’d been the first to speak, and you’re curious to hear what he comes up with. “She came into my office, bloody cryin’, tossing me a pill bottle, muttering about, saying she’s a-”

You don’t dare let him finish, not wanting him to be the one to finally say it, exposing your truth to the team. "Omega. I’m an Omega, ” you finish his sentence. While you’re scared to meet their faces, you take a deep breath and force yourself to do so.

"Christ," Price curses, fingers coming up to pinch the skin between his brows as he hangs his head.

Ghost's stoicism is nothing unordinary, and in fact, is somewhat a comfort considering you'd expected nothing less from him.

Gaz looks stunned for a moment, eyes flitting about the other’s faces before the serious look on his face morphs. Lips slowly drawing upward, you shouldn’t be surprised when he starts laughing. "Yeah right," Garrick teases, "and I'm actually the Prime Minister."

Yet, it's not just him. The uproarious laughter from your right only adds fuel to the already burning flame as the two other Sergeants laugh like idiots. All as if it's some poor joke with no consequences to anyone's life, and yet... it's the truth. At the end of the day, it doesn't change anything. At the end of the day, your life is still in jeopardy and they're treating it like some joke. Unable to form any sort of retort, you simply blink; stuck in a stupor raw, stung, and with a dumb look on your face.

Soap, rounding the table slaps Gaz on the back, his face flushed red from laughing so hard. "Yer makin' my stomach hurt. God," he eggs the other on between his dying chuckles and attempting to catch his breath.

"You're really just gonna stand there and laugh?!" You finally burst. Anger surely must be coming off your scent in waves, but you don't care. Standing from the chair, you don't flinch as Ghost swipes his arm out in front of you in case you were going for the Captain again. There will be no physical altercation on his watch.

"She already pulled this on me earlier, mind you, and now what? You're trying to pull it over on the lads' too, eh?" Price goads you.

"And I was telling the truth! You're the one who said I was joking," you point out. The volume of your voice is lost on you, partially blinded by the fury bleeding out.

"I suppose you never did admit to it being a prank," Price reasons, fingers grazing his beard as he runs them over it repeatedly in thought. "But how do you expect us to believe that when you clearly smell of a Beta?"

"Even on the battlefield, after everything we've been through-" Gaz starts.

"After yer all sweaty from a workout, too. I think we'd notice, Pan," Johnny argues, illuminating a legitimate point of consideration.

"Oh please," you mutter quietly to yourself. Shaking your head, you can't believe they're really all being this daft right now. "Like you have heard of those Scent Spritzers.”

There are various perfumes on the market specifically designed to alter one’s scent. Most use it smell like an Alpha when they’re not, or an Omega when they’re wanting to seduce an Alpha when going out. But Omegas posing as Betas was rarely heard of. You’re more than sure it happens more frequently than people know of, they just haven’t been caught. And in your line of work? It’s scarce. People are thoroughly vetted, but… you’d been on suppressants for a long, long time. And a Beta perfume only perfected your hiding.

“Did you forget we’re Alphas, love? We’d be able to smell you across the room if you were,” Gaz taunts. There’s a puff of his chest that makes his cockiness even more annoying than usual.

"You really want to be an Omega? Dumb yourself down to some weak fragile thing?” Johnny jokes, nudging Gaz’ arm as he shakes his head.

“A doll who can get whoever she wants? Want to be nothing more than good for knockin' up and popping out pups?” Gaz adds on.

“Are you serious right now?” You test, seething under your skin as your hands ball up into fists. “How could you say that?!”

“It’s what people say,” Ghost comments.

“Nobody would want that and you’re out here lying about it,” Johnny pokes.

“We’re only trying to point out the flaws in your little rouse, Pan,” Gaz says, a smile lighting up his features as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"And what if I was lying, hm? Would that change anything you just said to me? How you feel about Omegas?" You scoff.

“This isn’t about your designation,” Price finally speaks. Fingers still weaved into his beard, his blue eyes lift to meet yours. “I see what this is about now, but there's nothin' to worry about, Dove.” Your Captain takes on a softer tone and all of the sudden you feel yourself start to get emotional as a twinge of sadness, of the hurt bleeding through upon understanding makes you feel seen.

“I know it's intimidating, the thought of having your first unmedicated heat, but we have medics here. It's natural. Heats, ruts, we all have them. And, hey... at least you're not an Omega, right?" Whatever relief you’d momentarily experienced sinks back down in your gut with the speed of a rollercoaster drop. It’s as silent as a stakeout, the only sound being people’s breathing. And the lack of yours.

It takes a moment to gather yourself, everyone’s eyes on you with the serious topic change. While sex and the downsides to a designation are something discussed with the boys, you’d often been left out. And to your comfort. "You know what? I can’t do this,” you retort. Backing from the group, you toss your hands up. “I guess you'll just have to wait and see," you bite back. With a whip of your hair over your shoulder, you head for the door.

The room is silent once more as everyone gawks. You’d never reacted in such a manner, had an outburst like that… this is… certainly different, and something they’re not at all used to.

“It’s because they took away her suppressants today,” Price explains. It might not have been something the group should be privileged to know. A private matter, really… but with the way you acted? He felt the men deserve an explanation, at least.

“That makes sense,” Gaz responds quietly, eyes still on the door you’d gone through.

“That’s no excuse,” Johnny counters, arms crossing over his chest with a scowl on his lips.

"Well... that went better than I thought,” Ghost comments with a shrug. “Back to the plan? We can fill her in later.”

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aparticularbandit · 2 years ago

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i feel like i should note. i’m writing a claire/devon t4t fic. and there’s this thing in there about names and a running thing about devon having trouble picking his name (vs. claire, who heard her name once and knew it was hers).

gender is a complicated thing for me. i do not identify as trans, although technically i fall under the banner.

both of these have been my experiences with names.

i play around with names a lot personally - i’m bandit here, and i really like being bandit, and it has a lot of sentimental meaning to me because i’ve been using it, in one form or another, off and on for over half of my life - but i’ve also used a lot of other names, too, trying them on to see if they fit or not.

but i also - the name i’ve started using (both online and off) when i want to be perceived as most masculine, i remember when and where i was for that one. i was sitting in a chinese restaurant waiting for my to-go order to be done, and i remember thinking that name, and it was mine, and it was my name, and it was who i was - if i wanted to go in that direction.

so like. the running thing with devon might feel like a really bad, off-color joke.

it’s not. i mean. it is also kind of a joke.

but it is also my experience with names and trying them on to see if they fit.

#musings #bandit #bandit writes fic #famfic fluff #idk if this one will technically be fluff #but it's #i'm writing it out to get it out #because i love them #also of note - i've been writing claire as trans probably since the 'birdie dresses claire' fic #it's a headcanon for me - something i realized while writing that fic #and i have been - there have been references to it in the ones she's been in since then #don't ask me what her deadname is because i don't know and i don't care #i /do/ know devon's actually but that's because he told me #but i haven't mentioned it in this fic and i don't plan to because it's not necessary and you don't need to know #but yeah with claire i...have had this headcanon since...before i saw the movie a second time #like literally i think either the morning of or the day before?#because i'd researched some things and then had to rethink things based on something i caught the second time through #a n y w a y #just #a note

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impactedfates · 1 year ago

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Detective Oblivious - Various Genshin Characters x GN! Reader

★ Summary: Your best friend lately has been acting strange. Could they have a crush on someone?! You have to get to the bottom of it…though perhaps you can start by noticing how they look at you

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Alhaitham, Ayato, Kazuha, Xiao, Yelan, Ningguang

★ Genre/Trope: Romantic + Fluff + Maybe a bit of Crack

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: HSR Ver Here // Semi-Proof Read

Honestly I don't blame you for not noticing Alhaitham likes you. He's very hard to read. But at the same time, it doesn't take a detective to notice how he's more careful with his words when talking to you. He doesn't necessarily care what you think of him, even if he likes you, however he does wish for you to see him in a more positive light.

So even though you've been friends for so long, his sudden change in how he talks to you is so you can hopefully see how he feels about you as he believes you'd be able to notice but well...much to his dismay and annoyance, you don't.

You got the part that he likes someone, but not that those feelings are directed towards you. Have you not seen the longing stares he gives you when you're doing anything? How he's more lenient in what you're doing?? How when he was The Acting Grand Sage, how he always looked over anything you wrote to him first???

Clearly not as, as when he enters his home he can see you talking to Kaveh to see if he knows anything about who he likes. Kaveh, noticing him behind you, simply smiled. Although Alhaitham wants to confess to you, he'd rather him telling you directly or you finding out yourself without the need of help from others. And Kaveh knew this...

"Oh, he likes yo-"

A book was suddenly thrown at Kaveh as the Scribe quickly took you away.

"Wh- hey! He was going to tell me something"

"Didn't want him to say something I should be saying...I should be the one telling you I like you"

Many people caught on to the way Ayato treated you differently towards others, in fact. Both Ayaka and Thoma knew he liked you before he himself knew. Yet, why was it that everyone but you knew how much he held you dear to his heart?

Ayato never had much free time to be frank, however unlike his other friends and even family. He would never send anyone as many gifts as he did to you. Anytime you liked something you'd have it delivered to your house right away. You always thanked him for it, beaming as you looked at it. Although you did slightly feel bad as some of the things you off handily mention wanting are quite expensive. But the Commissioner doesn't care. Seeing that smile is enough for him.

What he does care about however, is how dense you are towards his acts of affection. As stated, he gives you more gifts than anyone else he knows. But another thing he does that he's surprised doesn't get you to catch on, is him "jokingly" calling your Mx Kamisato (he's half joking, he does want to marry you)

What surprises him more is that you somehow think it's directed to someone else?? You question him on who he's referring to even though he was looking directly at you.

Eventually he gently backs you into a corner and makes you face him, turning your chin towards him.

"My dear...I've tried everything but you don't get the hint. So I'll say it here...I love you~"

You found some poems that Kazuha had written, and it's about someone. In fact, it's about someone romantically. This caused you to quickly search for who said love poem is about.

One of the kids witnessed you ranting to yourself about who could've taken the samurai's heart and told Beidou, who then found it amusing enough to tell Kazuha who at first laughs it off before realising you've likely read the poems he wrote. He is thankful you haven't found out it's about you, but at the same time. He doesn't think you've met anyone that's like you, and the love poem does describe you near perfectly. Still...at least you haven't found out?

He watches from a small distance as you glance at him before looking away. This happens a lot, especially when he's talking to a friend who questions your behaviour. In fact, you've done this so much that people assume you're Kazuha's partner and want his attention. They even comment about it to which you both politely explain that you're just friends.

Eventually though, he makes no comment when someone assumes the two of you are dating, which makes you question him which leads to you finally figuring out who the love poem is about.

"Wait so...the love poems..."

"Is about you yes, I like you"

I can see him being quite confused himself when he realises he likes someone and might even tell you about how he's feeling. He won't directly say who it is but he tells enough to let you know he's fallen DEEP in love with someone.

Now the two of you are trying to figure out just who's the one making his heart beat faster and clouding his mind. In truth, Xiao quickly realizes it's you that's causing it. But he can't tell you, he's a bit too flustered to tell you, especially with how cute you look trying to figure it out yourself.

So he lets the search go on, he allows you to drag him to meet various people and see if he feels his heart beating faster. And while it does, that's only because you're beside him. Nothing else. He was happy enough to let you guess till you gave up, he didn't think you'd like him back anyways.

However Hu Tao would beg to differ, she's been listening to you rant about how you loved Xiao and all that stuff. In fact, she's even heard from Zhongli that Xiao likes you. So when you come along with the Adeptus in tow and ask him if he feels any different towards her. She has a feeling she knows what's going on. And why not play matchmaker?

"You don't feel anything at all?"

"No..."

The funeral directly quickly piped up, gently pushing you into Xiao's arms and watching his face burst into shades of crimson.

"What about now? Having the love of your life in your arms is bound to make you feel something right?"

She...out right flirts with you. And not in a way to get info from you, just...actual flirting. Yelan knows what she wants and tends to get what she wants. More so in terms of information, but she also wants you and will try anything to make you realize her feelings for you.

She probably knows you like her as well, so this should be easy right? Just flirt with you and you'll get the picture right?...Yeah...

"I would love to spend the future with you y'know darling~ Especially in the same house"

"Oh that would be great"

"Exa-"

"Rent would be so much cheaper if we were roommates"

She...finds your obliviousness cute...in a weird way though. She finds it even more cute that you do in fact recognize her flirting eventually...but think she's using you as practice. Now she spots you trying to figure out who it is so you can help her more. And "act" like her crush. She does need to eventually tell you so you can stop searching, I mean. The answer is clear if you look in a mirror.

"C'mon Lanlan, you need to tell who you actually like"

"Hm? Oh but I am sweetie~"

Ningguang is obviously highly respected and of course has her own set of admirers. You used to see her reading each letter with care and consideration before laughing. Not in a hateful way, truly she's grateful people like her that much. But recently she seems to read them a bit faster, seemingly searching for one name in particular.

It's clear to you she wants a certain person to be in her pile of confession letters. And you'll figure out who. I mean, what better way to help your friend then finding out who she likes and seeing if they like her back right :D

Well...word got to her that you've been searching through some of her things, nothing personal but just around her office. Not to mention observing her more closely lately which she plays off as you being interested in what she has to say. But when she hears that you've apparently scared a poor soul with some of your questioning she goes to confront you.

To which you weakly explain you want to help her find out if her crush likes her back or not. She simply laughs a bit, surprised. She's been giving you special treatment ever since she found out her feelings for you. You've been given bigger discounts because she just cannot let her "darling" pay so much. Alongside other things she thought were obvious hints in the hopes you'll write her a confession letter.

"Well...if you want to help me find out if they like me back, answer me this"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like me?"

Anyone else find it hard to know when someone likes them? Cuz I do, hence this idea sprang forth. Not all the characters included are ones I simp for but I thought it would be interesting to add them (I literally only simp for Alhaitham and Ayato out of the characters included tbh nsoaorgr)

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theshiftingwitch · 2 months ago

Text

Open discussion:

Why I believe manifesting is plain old reality shifting:

First, let's define shifting:

Reality shifting is becoming aware of a different reality to your current one. It is as simple as that. The fact is, we shift on a daily basis.

You decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, and you shifted. You wore blue instead of green, and you shifted. You took a cab instead of the bus, you shifted.

You shift with every decision you make, altering the state of reality slightly. There are parallel realities in which you took the elevator, wore green, and caught the bus. But you are currently not aware of those realities.

So, how does that tie into manifestation?

It's important to note that a lot of people in the LOA community refer to manifestation as Quantum Jumping, which is a theory essentially suggesting that there are infinite parallel realities, with slightly different versions of you, and your awareness "leaps" between those realities every time you manifest something.

Say you decided to manifest an SP, and you listened to your subliminals and said your affirmations, and a while later, they started texting you out of thin air. Doesn't that mean you jumped to a reality where you had your SP, essentially shifting? Because there is a reality now where they didn't text you, like they haven't been for however long you've known them, but you're no longer aware of that reality.

Another example, you decide to manifest money. You affirm, script, visualize, and go to sleep. You wake up with 10 thousand dollars in your bank account. Didn't you shift then? You didn't create that money, it has always existed. You didn't pull it from anywhere, it just suddenly came to you. Wouldn't that mean you leaped to a reality where you had it?

You're manifesting your dream house, and you wake up there. Shifting or manifesting?

You manifest fame, and wake up to 50 thousand followers overnight. Shifting or manifesting?

I'm asking this because I've seen posts talking about manifestation but denying shifting is real! Or saying that they are not the same thing.

I would love to hear your thoughts about the topic, but until then,

Happy shifting (and manifesting ❤️)

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassumption #loa blog #manifesting #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #shifting #loa affirmations #shifter #shifters #shift #shifting to desired reality #shifting blog

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catboymoonknight · 1 year ago

Text

Children

Alucard Tepes x Reader

No Y/N used

Gender not specified

Words: 800+

Requests are Open!

Notes: Just finished both Castlevania shows and I'm so sad. I need more. Its also my birthday today (Oct 7) but I figured I should post this anyway since its finished <3

"Don't think I haven't heard the orphan children call you father," Greta says as she sits on the log with Alucard. His face flushes as he hears her words, turning away from her.

"Some of them even refer to you and your partner as their parents."

Alucard flushes deeper, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. "I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about." He says, keeping his normal tone in hopes of not seeming flustered.

Greta chuckles softly, patting his shoulder before standing up to help around the new village. He watches her walk away, sitting back up the further she gets. He sits up straighter as he hears a familiar set of footsteps walking towards him.

"I didn't know the orphan children called us their parents." He says softly, turning to look at you as you stand at his side.

"Mm..." You hum softly, resting a hand on Alucard's shoulders. "I've heard it from one or two children." You say softly, crouching down by him.

He chuckles softly, leaning into your touch. "Its cute, no?"

"I think the children in general are cute, Alucard." You laugh softly, pressing your forehead against his.

He brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks. He rubs your cheekbones with his thumbs. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your nose before leaning back and standing up. "Walk with me, darling?" He asks, holding his hand out to you.

"I would be happy to walk with you." You say with a bright smile, taking his hand.

He smiles back, helping you to your feet. He brings your hand up to his face, gently pressing your knuckles to his cheek. He lets out a content sigh, enjoying the warmth you provide him. You gently pull your hand from his grasp, pressing the palm of your hand to his cheek.

"You know... If I knew any better I would say you would die without my touch." You tease him softly.

He grins, his fangs peeking out from behind his lips. "Mmm.. Maybe I would, but I'd rather not find out, darling."

You laugh, leaning up to nuzzle your nose against his. Taking his hand, you slowly begin walking around the village, Alucard following closely behind you.

He looks over at you, eyes filled to the brim with love, a small content smile on his face. For the first time in weeks, months, he feels relaxed. He feels content. Many of the villagers say hello as the two of you pass by. Some of them notice the way Alucard looks at you, a smile on their face as they realize how smitten he is with you.

Many of the children run by, a small little girl running up to you. You crouch down to her height, recognizing her as one of the orphan children who refer to you and Alucard as their parents.

"What do you need, my little love?" You say to her, rubbing some dirt from her cheek.

"This is for you." She says excitedly, holding out a small flower she picked from the ground.

You smile brightly at her, taking the flower from her tiny hand. "I'll keep it forever," You say ruffling her hair softly.

She beams up at you, wrapping her tiny arms around your neck in a quick hug before she runs off once again to go play with the other children.

You stand straight again as you watch her run off, before turning to Alucard. He has a smile on his face, an expression filled with nothing but love.

You blush softly, giggling. He snaps out of his daze, blushing as he realizes you caught him gazing at you.

"You're so cute, my love." You say, tucking the flower behind his ear.

"I think you're mistaken. You tend to be the cute one between the two of us." He says, leaning in to press a kiss against your lips.

You rest against his chest, pulling away from the kiss after a few seconds. "I love you, Alucard."

His knuckles brush your cheek, his eyes meeting yours as he looks at you. "I love you too, darling. I will always love you. During this lifetime and through many more." He whispers against your lips, his breath gently brushing your skin.

A deep blush spread across your face. You look away from him, burying your head in his shoulder. He chuckles softly, the vibrations from his chest providing a sense of comfort, a sense of home.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against him. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. Neither of you speaks, enjoying the silence between the two of you while listening to the ambiance sounds from around.

The silence is broken by dozens of little feet running over to you. You quickly turn in that direction, a group of children running around the two of you with happy expressions. You look up at your lover, a content smile on your face.

"Looks like our children need us." You say,

He chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Looks like it, darling."

He leans down, picking up one of the younger children, holding them on his hip. The two of you contiue walking around the growing village, the children happily walking and running beside the two of you.

#alucard tepes #adrian tepes #alucard x reader #adrian x reader #alucard castlevania #castlevania x reader #castlevania #alucard tepes x reader #adrian tepes x reader #x reader

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ayrtonswnna · 17 days ago

Note

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

#lele writes ʚɞ #formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one #imagine #formula one fluff #formula one fluff imagine #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x oc #franco colapinto x reader #senna!oc #franco colapinto x senna!daughter #senna!reader #ayrton senna #williams racing

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imaginesmai · 9 months ago

Text

Your name on my body - modern!Azriel

Beautiful and amazing @thehighladywrites posted this INCREDIBLE idea and I had to try it. I've never written a modern!acotar AU, a college!acotar AU or nerdy-tattooed!Azriel. I haven't written bimbo!reader, and since English is not my first language, I don't know if I have done it right. I enjoyed this sooooo much, let me know if you want more or have some requests!

Extra points for whoever gets the crescent city saga reference!

Plot: nerd-tattooed!Azriel gets a tattoo with your name and it leads to smutty time.

Warnings: porn and porn and Azriel being freaky and porn with just an inch of plot. This is dirty.

The door of the apartment closed behind your back and you were met with an empty living room. You usually didn’t come in unannounced, because Azriel’s shared apartment always had some type of surprise. But your boyfriend had asked you to do so, and to use the spare key he had given you a while ago.

Azriel had been studying for his finals for weeks, and had finally finished them. Instead of going out to celebrate like you had, he had stayed in with his friends. You hadn’t seen each other too much, apart from the long hours in the library where he tried to help you with your exams – and you didn’t count those hours, since you did nothing more than stare at him.

The apartment, as expected, was trashed. There were beer bottles in the ground, suspicious stains in the carpet and a very naked Cassian sleeping in the couch. You had just barely gotten out of your hangover, and Azriel’s roommate was about to start his.

Through all the chaos, you were certain none of it belonged to Azriel. He liked to party, sure, but not hard and long as you. He preferred to stay quiet and observe, with a drink that lasted him the whole night. You were trying to remember if the heel that poked through the back of the couch was from your friend when you heard him coming.

“This way, princess”

His deep, morning voice made you turn around and stumble to his presence. Like a serpent caught in a sweet melody, you were always pulled towards him. Azriel was wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, that fit him like a globe. Dark glasses and disheveled hair. And lots of tattoos that you had traced previously with your fingers and tongue.

“Hey, handsome” you greeted him, not hiding your bright smile. “Got your text this morning. What were you doing up so early?”

“Hit the gym before breakfast. Not all of us are hangover”

“Tell that to the other half of the campus or your roommates. Rhysand spent the night with Feyre in the rooftop”

Your roommate hadn’t appeared last night, and you had found a very cryptic text that morning that led you to the rooftop – where both her and Rhysand were fast asleep with the bottle still uncorked.

As soon as you were within reach, Azriel pulled you closer by your waist and smashed his lips against yours. He tasted like coffee and mint, and erased any trace of drunkenness from last night. You tangled your manicured fingers between his locks, shamefully scratching the nape of his neck with your long nails.

They differed from Azriel’s bitten ones. Your short dress from his baggy clothes, and your dyed hair from his untamed ones. While you liked to shine in the public, to dress up and party, Azriel preferred to be quiet, thrift clothes and study. To the campus, you were the bimbo, and he was the nerd.

But you were his bimbo and he was your nerd.

“How was the party?” Azriel asked between kisses, his lips not staying for too long on yours.

“Good. Missed you” you almost whined when he pulled back too soon, and he chuckled.

“Missed you too. Did you have fun?”

You hummed as his hands lowered until they cupped the edge of your ass. The dress was short enough he could pull it up until anyone could see your panties, but neither of you cared. He had to lean down to do so, and you took advantage to deepen the kiss.

On the outside, Azriel might have looked like the shy, nerdy student, but he was freaky. You had been surprised when a hook-up with your assigned tutor turned out in the best night of your life, and there was nothing that could unhook you from him.

His hands were big enough to squeeze most of your ass, kneading it just like you loved it. Roughly, you were pushed into his body. Azriel was always semi-hard when you came to view, and you always took care of choosing the shortest and most provocative dress in his presence.

Few things were better than a good night out and a good morning fucking.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Can I take you to my room?”

“You don’t have to ask”

But he did, breaking away your heated kiss. Azriel pushed the bridge of his glasses up and gave you a crooked smile, offering you his hand. You gladly took it and let him guide you to his room. The farthest, the darkest, but also the neatest. Azriel spent a good part of his time in there, and you loved it. He had incorporated you slowly in it, from the spare clothes in his closet for you to the stupid crafts you did together when you were bored.

“And what did you do last night? Started studying for the next semester?” you teased him, and he gave you a sideway look.

“I could, but I was busy with Mor”

“What were you doing with Mor?”

Your frown was instant, as the jealousy that rose to your chest. Morrighan was his friend, and you respected that, but you knew he had liked her in the past. That the woman was gorgeous, brilliant and smart in ways you didn’t complement Azriel. You liked her enough to be kind and maybe envious, but the notice of her with Azriel left you with a sour taste in the mouth.

Azriel chuckled at the edge of your tone and didn’t answer. If anyone had reasons to be jealous, was him, yet he never was. You had quite the reputation in college, and dressed to impress. More than once, you had been walking with Azriel and received not so subtle glances. You had even gotten the barista’s number when you asked for his order. And through all of that, Azriel had just shrugged and told you he trusted you.

So, for his sake, you tried to do the same.

During the longest seconds in your life, you were quiet. You sat on his bed and crossed your arms across your chest. Azriel closed the door behind him, just as you heard the first groan from his roommate, and turned around so he could face you.

The height difference, the size difference, warmed you in every place of your body. Azriel loved the gym just as he loved his books, and there was not a part of his body that he didn’t work. You liked the difference, liked his big form and how it towered over you even standing. As you sat in silence, you bit the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

“We went to the tattoo parlor, since she knows the owner. I wanted something done” he watched your frown with diversion, and continued when you said nothing. “So, you can be jealous of her, who has a girlfriend now, but I’m supposed to be fine with guys drooling over you last night?”

“I didn’t look at them”

“I didn’t look at her” he answered back, and took off his tee.

The sleeveless piece of cloth didn’t hide much, but you still lost your breath when it hit the ground. His muscled, tattooed chest came to view, and that was enough to make you get up. It wasn’t Mor’s lips that had left marks two nights ago on his left shoulder, or who had bitten his pierced nipple until he had come into his pants in the library’s bathroom.

It was you who had caused the tent in his pant, that caused his eyes to darken when you stepped closer. You placed your hand over his right thigh, the muscles tightening underneath. His boner hit your stomach and you pushed yourself against it, opening your mouth to apologize, or maybe to suck the life out of him.

“Don’t you want to know what I got?” he asked, sounding on edge.

“I don’t understand half of your tattoos. Whatever you got is hot and perfect, just like you”

“Look down, princess” Azriel groaned when your nail touched his dick.

“On my knees?”

You were ready to do so, or let him bend you over the table. He could do with your body as he pleased, but you were caught off guard when you noticed the reddish, new ink wrapped in invisible paper. It looked delicate against the rest of his tattoos, new and beautiful. Right between his hips, where the dark trail of dark hair had just been removed, was a new tattoo.

In his v-line, that you licked and adored and stared at so much. With the nickname he had gifted you since he met you and the stupid, childless heart you drew on every notebook of his.

Princess ♡

Your breath came out shaky as you traced the letters with your finger. If it wasn’t for the make-up, you had so carefully put on that morning with a killing headache, you would have burst into tears. His own hand covered yours and helped you trace the missing letters, and the heart.

It should have been distracting to look at it while his dick demanded your attention inches lower, but you couldn’t look away. Not when you felt a hard clench on your heart that left you lightheaded.

“Do you like it?” it was a whisper in the dark room, a spark of doubt that made you look up.

How could you not like it, not like anything about such a perfect man? You nodded enthusiastically, your other hand searching blindly for his.

“Why did you get that?”

“Because I love you, and I want to carry you with me always” Azriel’s eyes were kind, and soft, and loving – and they were making you dizzy with desire.

“Did it hurt too much?” you asked, looking down again at the tattoo. You, who had smooth and unmarked skin, couldn’t phantom the pain of a nursing needle to draw blood. “It must have”

“Worth every second. Lay in bed, princess. I need to be between your legs”

He didn’t let you take the initiative and threw you on his bed with a quick move. Azriel towered over you for a second before kneeling between your already open, wide legs, and leaving his glasses on the. He smirked with no doubts as he pulled the hem of your dress over your panties. His fingers were rough, pressing hard enough to leave red marks on its way.

You only bit your lower lip when he rose your dress to your waist and sneaked his hand beneath, the edge of his fingers pressing over your breasts.

With the idea of that outcome, you hadn’t bothered with a bra, and his eyes darkened even more at the discovery. You watched his throat work around the new information as he rose his body higher, now covering your breasts with his hands. He squeezed them, keeping them trapped in his palms as he lowered where you needed him.

“I’m gonna erase all those looks from last night” he promised, hands retreating following your curved. “Whose got you this wet, hm?”

“Azzie, don’t be mean”

Azriel was in your hands the moment his nickname fell from your lips, and at your mercy when you used that whiney, flirty tone. He didn’t even bother taking off your panties – he tore them off. Like a sheet of paper, like a piece of cake. You moaned his name, and it came out like a yelp when he dug in without reservations.

His tongue was feral as he licked a long stripe between your entrance to your clit. He pressed it against your clit and actually trapped it between his teeth for a moment. The barrier between pain and pleasure was hard to tell when he snuck his hands under your ass and lifted you a few inches for him to devour.

“Love this so much” you spoke with a content smile, as he massaged your ass in silent appreciation. “Love you”

One of your hands reached to his hair, pushing his face closer to your center. He agreed and pushed one finger inside you. Your mind emptied when he began pumping it in and out, curling it just in the right spot before pulling out and replacing it with his tongue.

Cassian pounded on the wall and yelled at you to be quiet, and Azriel pounded back harder as a fuck you response. You didn’t have it in you to care about him as Azriel pulled you closer by the ass, your legs laying boneless against his wide back.

His nose brushed your clit, up and down, and you weren’t sure he could breathe from how passionate and hard he was eating you out. You called his name wordlessly, your mouth emitting only broken noises.

“So good for me, princess. My beautiful princess” his voice was guttural, so primal it made you lock his head between your legs. “Give me one, come on. Give me the first one so I can wreck you from behind”

“That sounds clinically dangerous!”

Azriel growled against your clit and parted your folds with his chin. He ran his lips through all of them, and by the time he pushed his finger back in, you were cumming on his face and screaming so loud his name you could have woken up the rest of the campus. He caressed your lower regions as you came down from your high, accompanying your orgasm with lazy, long stripes through your folds.

When Azriel came back up, his chin and mouth bright from your juices and his hair sticking in every direction, you were already ready for round two. He didn’t need to be told, and he rose leaving a trail of bites up your body.

He briefly stopped to leave two twin marks between your breasts, so round and perfect and purple you were squirming under him again.

“Azzie” it had been the only word you were capable of saying, and your mind cleared down for a second

“Was that good? Worthy princess treatment after a night out?” Azriel asked, leaving wet kisses on your neck.

“Perfect”

You hugged his back as he pulled himself above you, and your nails left angry, red marks across his lower waist. You pulled the band of his sport shorts and underwear down, and squeezed his hard ass just like he had been doing to yours. His dick sprung free with little effort, and he rubbed himself against your side as you caught your breath.

It wasn’t a one-time thing with Azriel, and you heard Cassian muttering about calling 911 before turning on the music. It took Azriel at least three of your orgasm to be content, and he could cum another three before he let you go. He always stopped, for your sake, when your legs couldn’t hold you up anymore and you had tears ruining your perfect make-up.

Few things turned him more on than being the cause of that ruined make-up.

Before he could empty your mind again, you quickly brought up the only coherent thought that kept pounding your head.

“I want your name too. On me”

“A tattoo?” he raised a brow.

Azriel didn’t stop rubbing himself slowly but tightly against your thigh. His hand was over your sore cunt, in a possessive manor he only showed inside the bedroom. At your petition, he pressed his finger tighter.

“Here. Between my breasts, with your name” you quickly explained. “I want Azzie between my breasts, so each time someone looks at me, he knows these are yours”

“You are mine”

None of your relationships had lasted as long or had been as deep. You were the type of girl who would have his ex-name tattooed, but truth was you were wary of tattoos, and Azriel knew that. He had tried to get you into a simple one, something he could draw for you and hold your hand through it.

His body was a map of ink and drawings, some of them goofy and some of them deep. He liked your innocent, smooth skin, but he found himself breathing harder at the thought of his name on your chest. Thinking of how many kisses, how many marks he would leave there every given moment.

Azriel recalled not a month ago pulling down your cleavage between classes to kiss your nipples sore, the hand he always sneaked to unclasp your bra and touch you beneath the lace. His name, the nickname that brought him to his knees, decorating that skin.

“Are you sure?” he didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he was ready to tattoo you himself right then and there. With Cassian playing loud classical music in the next room.

“And a crown drawn by you on the top” you rose a teasing eyebrow at his lack of movement, given the discussion for finished. “Are you going to wreck me from behind or do I have to ask Cassian for help?”

Azriel broke into a loud laugh before smacking your cunt loudly, then manhandling you around. With his left arm holding you by your waist, he pressed himself against your back. His dick brushed all the right spots between your bodies, but your hands were trapped under you and you couldn’t touch him.

Complaining would only make him take out those beautiful handcuffs you knew he owned so you only bit your lip and whined like the good girl you were for him.

“I’m gonna tattoo my name between your breasts, if that’s what you want” he whispered against your ear, his other hand appearing around your throat. “I love you so much, princess. So fucking much”

Azriel squeezed your throat at the same time he entered you with a rough, only thrust. It avoided the moan that died in your chest, that had you rolling back your eyes in pleasure. It didn’t stop Azriel from moaning your name out loud, loud enough for Cassian to turn up the stupid music.

The headboard banged against the wall and his glasses fell to the ground, as he left you no room to breathe, to recover. Maybe he had managed to shut you down, but he was doing nothing about his own sounds. You were vaguely aware of Cassian slamming the door of the apartment after screaming some profanities, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

Not when Azriel seemed to be trying to tattoo his name deep into your body and soul.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

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kentocalls · 4 months ago

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togame jo | telegraph sfw. established relationship. the soft aftermath of togame saving you from punks. alternatively i learned a word from a fighting reference and this fic was born. i'm really nervous posting this, i really like togame so i hope i do his character justice.

at the final round of the boxing match you look away, not sure how jo can watch the violence. you're peaking at jo's face. frowning when you see he's got a cut on his chin, how'd you miss that?

you should clean it. he catches and kisses the hand that reaches for the scratch, slightly surprised to see your eyes already on him, you look back at the tv screen.

"he's going to lose huh?" the fighter in blue shorts is doing bad.

"yeah, he's gonna lose. a fighter who telegraphs their moves is bound to lose. makes them predictable."

"telegraph?" your eyes fall back to his, he smiles at your question. you're always so curious about things he's into. it makes him oddly happy.

"telegraphing in boxing is when a fighter makes it blatantly obvious what they're going to do. rookie mistake." you try to keep your eyes on his, but the way he's speaking, the way his lips are flush and full. you catch yourself staring and look away. a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"so you're always thinking when you're fighting?" he hums, wanting to look at your pretty face. your eyes find his when he doesn't answer. "trying to not telegraph?"

"that's right, a good fighter always needs to be thinkin' too. can't just reply on instinct. gotta look for openings, feint, dodge. can't let them know," your eyes fall to his lips again, you haven't noticed his arms are locking you in place. "what you're about to do, otherwise you're screwed."

you frown at that. there's so much danger in his world. and you... you got him caught in another mess. no wonder the rival goons were laughing, you were probably too easy to predict. "and i let them read me, you got hurt."

"don't worry about it. it's just a scratch." his nose brushes against your own, "i've had worse." his eyes on your lips.

"sorry jo...if i called earlier when they were at the cafe..." and he's shushing you with a gentle kiss, unhurried, unrushed. you didn't know he could kiss like this, he's lips are so soft.

your eyes still linger on his lips after the kiss. you feel so much for him, too much for him. "you need chapstick." you offer, looking away. he chuckles, "sure i do." you're such a cute liar, he's been using the vaseline balm you gave him diligently.

an alarm sounds on your broken phone, you rush towards it. grabbing the pain pills, jo knows he won't win and holds out a hand, "did you eat?"

uhh, choji wanted to give the goons an early surprise, and then he had some duties downtown and did he eat after?

"togame jo." you huff "you can't take meds on an empty stomach." he protests, trying to capture your lips against his again, he claims he's big and strong and doesn't need to eat. you huff and shush and get out of his grasp. a clear testament to the amount of main he must clearly be in.

there should be bread and some toast. something easy and simple. you're all but prepared but the damn strawberry jar is shut so tight. you groan and grip and twist but damnit. there's a cut on your hand your dominant hand that you ignored, its annoying and red, and your non dominant hand is clearly useless.

"oh? can't open it yourself, need a big strong guy huh?" you would roll your eyes at him but when he takes the jar from your hands his eyes catch the cut. his body freezes.

not only your cheek but your hand too? those assholes, if had been a little faster-- "jo, i'm hungry please." you interrupt, refusing to let both of you relieve the park incident. the lid opens so easily in his hands, it looks comically small. but he doesn't return it.

"you're hurt, i got this babe." you mean to say, it's not that bad, but when you look at the cut, it is kinda gross. you should wash it. jo has already spread way too much jam across two slices of toast when he's lifting you onto the counter, examining the scratch. eyes serious. "i'll clean it, don't worry."

"let me." and with the most tender hands, he runs. washcloth over the cut, grabs a hodge podge of supplies and dresses the wound with so much are. you're not surprised he knows how to do this, just surprised he doesn't do this for himself. eyes taking in his concentration, you don't even notice when he's done. when did he cage you in? when has his face gotten so close.

his jaw goes tight, there is a bruise forming on your cheek. fuck. he's gone soft hasn't he? that's the only reason anyone would dare think you're touchable.

"i'm sorry jo. i...i don't like you being hurt because of me. " your hand finds his cheek, you try to offer a short kiss but he's not having it. pulling away, this is his fault. he won't let this happen again.

he places the toast next to you, feeling himself shut down. his voice cold "eat." it's all his fault. they should've immobilized the gang members in the morning, he should've let choji--

he knocks into the couch with his injured leg, a rough grunt escapes and you're already zipping to him. "hey, i got you." he doesn't need you to support him, it's not that bad, just painful. nothing new to him. but you? it shouldn't happen to you.

the look of worry on your face too, he caused that. "togame jo." you pull his face down to yours, both hands firm, "don't you dare." you can see he's falling into hold habits, taking the burden of everything on his shoulders again, "the idiots fucked around and found out right? they're not going to bother me or you again."

you convince him to eat, get him to eat medicine and watch the rest of the match. overly concerned jo is going to shut you out, he's tried before. lasted a full two days before he found himself back at your side.

the medicine has him nodding off, you're so quick to notice. he can't hide from you can he? "bed, jo, your back is gonna hurt if you fall asleep here."

"alright, alright," jo mutters, "lead the way babe. don't expect me to be a good patient."

"you will be the perfect patient." you squeeze his hand, leading him through the familiar space. jo can't help but queeze your hand back, a bit harder than he would usually do.

"oh, perfect hmm?" you catch something in his emerald eyes, and ignore it. happy he's being cooperative. you pause when he starts to climb into bed, pulling him back.

"you can't wear outside clothes to bed jo."

"yes, we can."

we? oh, "it's okay if i spend the night?" you weren't expecting anything, truly only concerned about getting your big tough guy to bed. "i wouldn't have it any other way doll."

"well i'm not wearing outside clothes to bed, that's gross." you scrunch your face and it has him rolling his eyes, hiding the smile cascading his features. "you serious babe? no outside clothes at all? i barely touched anything"

"guess ill go home" you make to loosen your hand from his but he's standing, a little wobbly due to the injury on his leg, "fine, fine. you can borrow somethin' of mine, but don't go spraying it with your perfume or something, got it?" oh he absolutely wants his oversized hoodie to smell like you.

"something soft please." you wait, taking in his room, the sheets are actually clean ones. they're in your favorite color, there's a photo frame with you and him on his bedside table. the room looks suspiciously clean, are you going to find empty bottles under the bed?

"i gotcha, i gotcha" he rummages through his closet, pulling out the softest hoodie he owns, "this good babe?"

your tiny yay has his heart summersaulting and he rummages for his own set of 'inside' clothes. both of you have changed by the time your eyes connect again, "huh, looks good on ya," his eyes linger on your exposed skin before flicking back up to your face, you don't like that grin.

"sleep time jo. no funny business." your waving a finger at him, "i'm only staying to make sure you get rest."

"no funny business huh?" he's in your space too quick, it always catches you off guard how quickly he can move. "can't even get a goodnight kiss?"

this guy, "you already got one, jo." you move to push him to the bed. you can tell the medicine will kick in soon, he takes you with him. he acts offended, "one isn't enough, i need more."

your hand cards through his hair, you think about it. you'd like it, of course you would. but jo doesn't stop at one. he starts to pull out the big guns, pouting, pulling you so that you're straddling him now, the hoodie exposing more skin.

"come on, don't make me beg." hands tracing up your sides.

a blush on your skin, "i don't know jo, i like that idea." if you play with the nape of his neck, will he fall asleep? his eyes are growing heavier. but you underestimate his persistence. "you really gonna make me beg for a kiss, ain't ya?"

you make to pull away, he's a lot more alert than you thought, but his hands on your hips are firm, keeping you in place. you can barely move an inch. "nu uh, where you trying to go? this is a serious conversation." his voice is anything but serious.

"i need to brush my teeth, silly." he sighs.

"you don't have to do that, don't make me wait for a kiss while you brush your teeth." god his eyes are something else, pulling you in, you feel yourself leaning closer.

"you," you sigh, feeling his breath on your lips, "you should brush yours too." he chuckles at that, pulls away. "fine, fine, but you better make the wait worth it."

the mouth on this guy.

your injury isn't as bad as jo's you realize with how slowly he's moving, he takes his sweet time brushing his teeth and finishing up his night time routine. by the time he walks out of the bathroom, his expectant smirk softens to find you already asleep.

figures he'll get an extra reward for being good and waiting all night for one kiss. shakes his head at his own thoughts and slips slowly next to you, careful to pull you close but not onto his hurt leg.

automatically you're snuggling into him, your expression softening in your sleep. he wraps a big arm around you, pulling you snug. you're not leaving his chest until he gets twenty good morning kisses. closing his eyes to the soft sound of your breathin he feels his body finally relax.

your whispering in your sleep, he makes out a "you're stuck with me jo,for..ever."

he's so happy you can't see the fat smile on his face. you're so adorable, too cute. he needs to tuck you away from the world forever. "i don't mind being stuck with you babe." he knows you won't remember this conversation, risks a bit more, "forever sounds pretty damn good to me."

"'s a long time." oh? are you not sleepy? his hand runs through your hair, touch gentle, affectionate. trying not to let the bandages catch knots in your locks. "yeah, it's a long time. get used to me being around every second."

"feels nice." you burrow deeper into his chest, trying to meld yourself into his personal weighted blanket. his hand continues to run through your hair, it feels so soft. he hums in satisfaction, "you like this, huh? i'll do it every night."

"such a good boy." and you're exhaling deeply, he feels the exhaustion leave your body, muscles growing heavy. his own eyes heavy.

good boy huh? maybe he likes you saying it, would he admit that? nah. "i'm not a dog you know."

"i dunno...you're good to me. the best. boy. good boy." you switch sides to lay your head on your forgotten bruised check, a hiss and wince and jo's hand grips your head firm, placing you back onto your uninjured size.

"watch it babe, keep calling me good boy and see what happens." his voice low and rumbly. that confuses you, shifting your head to look at his eyes as much has his hand allows. you're so sleepy, his hand is so big and warm and comforting.

"wha's that even mean?" you barely register his mischievous smile, he leans in, voice barely a whisper. "keep calling me good and i'll have to show you proof won't i?"

"silly." you poke at his lips, he nips at your fingers, "sleep."

you're on the verge of sleep, words becoming less sensical and more incoherent. did you ask him to howl? "yeah yeah, go to bed babe." he lets you shuffle on him, adjusting into a comfy position on your sides. hand in his hair but barely moving. he's pepping small kisses to your temple.

"i like you."

he feels his chest go warm, "i like you too babe." and your hand falls from his neck and you're out. pulled into slumber. he watches with such affection, "more than you ever know."

jo spends the night holding you, arms protective, a shield against outside troubles. he lets himself sleep, lets his dreams fill of you and your smiles and nagging. smiles into the way you hold him close, in his dreams and on his bed.

#togame jo fic #togame jo x reader #togame jo x you #togame fic #wind breaker fic #wind breaker x reader #established relationship #april writes #my first time posting him #im so nervous #ahhhhhh #the image is a screepcap of mine! please dont use w/o permission #togame jo telegraph

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verycoolusername1 · 3 months ago

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So American

Summary: Your boyfriend Nico had made time to see one of your concerts and you made sure to make it one to remember.

Nico Hischier x Singer!reader

Genre: Fluff!!

Warning: Contains romantic themes and mostly my terrible writing.

A/N: I LOVE THIS SONG so so much, and I hope I did Nico justice - this is my first time writing him, so I hope I did well! And I'm sorry for making them pop girlies, it's for the sake of this fic(and I'm extremely sorry for writing them all badly - I'm still learning. Once hockey season starts, I'll try to watch some games(if my attention span allows it))😭

And if you catch my stranger things and Dandelions(song by Ruth B) reference, I thrown in there, then I'll love you a lot.

If there are any grammatical errors, please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!!

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You have done performances before. You were on tour, after all. But something was different, your boyfriend Nico was here. And you didn't want to mess up, not even the slightest bit.

You tried to steady your breathing, and that was when the man of the hour appeared right in front of you. He greeted you instantly with a hug and a kiss on your temple, not wanting to anger your manager if he ruined your makeup even a tiny bit.

"Hi baby." He mumbled in your ear. "You look beautiful."

You chuckled in the hug and looked at him. A huge smile was plastered on his face. "Thanks, honey." You smiled. "It's nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Nico laughed. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, Aphrodite could not compare."

"Nico." You dragged his name. "Stop it."

"No way!" Nico shook his head. "Not until you believe it."

"Nico, don't," you warned him. He looked back at you with a not so sorry look. He instantly started ticking your sides, making you laugh. "Babe stop!"

"I'll stop once you believe me." Nico looked at you with a stern look.

You continued to laugh even more before finally giving in to his demands. "Alright, I believe you." You panted. Nico planted his hands at your waist as if by memory.

"You're gonna do amazing." He whispered in your ear.

You smiled softly before asking. "Who else is here?"

"Just Luke, Jack, and Dougie. Everyone else is knocked out." He answered. "Jack wanted to come backstage with me. I told him no."

"And why did you do that, Mr. Hischeir?" You said playfully.

"Well, soon-to-be Y/N Hischeir, I wanted to see my partner before anyone else could." He answered honestly and in a serious tone.

You laid your head in his chest to ignore the giddy feeling you would get whenever he called you 'his partner.' Your stomach was doing flips, and he knew it. Before you could come up with a reply, your manager called your name telling you it was time. You gave Nico a warm smile, one that he had grown to adore as he dropped his hands from your waist.

"I'll see you later." You promised.

"Can't wait." He smiles as he makes his way back to the vip section.

You appeared on stage minutes later with a huge smile on your face. Your fans cheered loudly as they saw you and sang along to all the songs, making you laugh at how good they were. "I swear you guys are better at remembering my lyrics than me." You had joked.

The fans cheered in response, and you took a quick glance at the vip section, something you have been doing all night. When you caught Nico's eyes, he gave you a wave, and you smiled in response. Fans noticed this interaction began to cheer even louder. They haven't seen you this happy in a long time. But that all changed when you met Nico, now all you can ever really do is smile.

"Alright, uh, I know this is sudden, but I wanna try something." You picked up your guitar. "The next song is something that I wrote but never released." Your fans cheered in surprise of about to be hearing an unreleased song. "I like to think I wrote it too soon, and then I just forgot about it." You laughed.

"But tonight there is someone I really wanna dedicate this song to. I mean, I wrote it about you!" Your fans laughed as you shook your head with them.

"But yeah, you're special to me, and I love I have for you will only expand and as one in lyrics 'I see forever in your eyes' and that's completely true. I love you, and I know you know that, but I'll always be telling you that. Sometimes, you're like a poem I wish I wrote. Weird comparison, I know sue me!" You chuckled to yourself and made eye contact with Nico, who mouthed the three words back to you.

"Sorry for rambling. uh, this song is called 'So American', and I hope you like it." You began to play the familiar melody on your guitar and put your mouth near the microphone. "Drivin' on the right side road, he says I'm pretty wearing his clothes."

Your fans erupted with cheer as they realized it was a love song.

"He's like a poem I wish I wrote, I wish I wrote." You looked at Nico, smiling big as you sang your way into the chorus.

The fans cheered even louder, all having smiles on their faces.

"And he laughs at all my jokes, and he says I'm so american," You sang. "Oh, god, it's just not fair to him to make me feel this much."

Nico looked at you like you hung the moon with a huge smile on his face, a smile that he had recently gotten from you. Jack had only noticed a week ago when he said a bad(like really bad) joke, and the two of you held identical smiles while Nico pushed him in annoyance.

"They said they're gonna marry you, dude." Luke pushed Nico's shoulder playfully while Nico's face began to flush.

You began to sing the second verse which Nico didn't like as much. He could never find you annoying or rude, his fellow teammates laughed at his reaction.

"Dude, relax. They're just in love." Jack teased.

"I really love my bed, but man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me." You began to jump up and down. "When he's with me!"

You sang the chorus as Nico looked at you in adoration, and of course, his teammates singing the lyrics terribly wrong but tried their best even if they didn't know the song till a couple of minutes ago.

Dougie sang off key(like very off key). "I have no idea where he goes, and he says I'm so american."

Nico gave him a look, and he immediately shut his mouth. Jack tried to stifle his laugh but failed, Luke joining him as you sang the bridge.

"But ain't it love? Cause I'm in love." You smiled big as you sang the chorus one last time.

The crowd screamed at the top of their lungs as you sung the last bit of the song, you strung on your guitar more than what needed. Before officially ending the song and the concert.

"Thanks, New Jersey. You guys were so loud tonight, I love you all. Good night!" You yelled, the fans cheered and clapped in response.

You ran backstage, and after they took your mic pack off of you. You quickly went to your dressing room and changed into some comfortable clothes, removed your makeup, and undid your hair. Minutes later, there was knock at the door alongside hushed whispers.

"Come in!" You called. The door opened, revealing Nico and the guys. "Hey guys,"

Jack ran to you, shoving Nico aside and giving you a big hug. "You were amazing! Like the dancing, the songs, the puns, and the new song. It was so amazing!" He gushed.

"Thanks, Jack," you hugged him. "Seems like somebody missed me." You looked at Nico with a stern look.

"Of course I did, I was gonna come backstage, but then Nico was all like," Jack cleared his throat before doing the impression. "No, Jack, go back. You'll see them after the show, I get to see them first because I'm their -"

"Alright, I think they get it." Nico cut him off abruptly.

"Somebody's jealous." Dougie snickered.

"You sure it ain't you?" Luke asked.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Dougie looked at him with a questioning glare.

"Isn't it time you died?" Luke retorted. "You already hit 30."

"Alright, you two cut it out." You told them.

"Yeah, guys, cut it out." Jack rolls his eyes.

"Jack." Nico warned.

"Okay, bye, guys! It was nice seeing you Y/N." Jack pushed the two other adults out of the room, despite their protests of only seeing you for five minutes.

"I think we're alone now-" You were cut off by Nico caressing your face and kissing you with the most upmost passion. Nico then pulled you in a hug and held you tight perhaps even tighter than Jack.

"I love you so so much." Nico muttered in your ear.

"I love you too." You broke the hug to look at him.

"The song was so beautiful I mean wow." Nico gushed. "I honestly have no words."

"My eyes must be deceiving me, did I just make new jersey devils captain Nico Hischier speechless?" You taunted.

"Shut up." Nico kissed you again, with even more love than before.

#luke hughes #jack hughes #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #new jersey devils #nh13 #nj devils #Spotify #singer!reader #gender neutral reader #nhl hockey #nhl players #verycoolusername1

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babyjakes · 1 year ago

Text

flamingo pink.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | pet play

pairing | daddy!ari levinson x puppy!reader

warnings | ddlg and pet play elements (daddy!ari and sort of little? puppy!reader.) brief mentions of ownership; reader wears a collar. unprotected sex- vaginal and anal penetration. mild clit play (mild for me anyway lol.) nipple play for like one (1) second. finger sucking. squirting (and he comes in her ass!) a little bit of crying. teasing. some mocking/humiliation. some dumbification. lots of praise/encouragement. beginnings of aftercare.

word count | 1,006

an | hi sluts, welcome to kinkmas 2023!! i'm so super excited to be running this event, i've already put in a lot of work on these pieces and i'm really hoping you'll all enjoy them <3 as a quick note, if you haven't already, make sure to check out the event masterlist (linked above) to see the list of prompts i'll be writing for this month! i tried to pick mostly new ideas and concepts, hopefully there'll be something to fit everyone's taste!! hope you all like day 1 with big strong daddy!ari and his little baby puppy! also yes there are 1989tv references bc this is MY kinkmas and I MAKE THE RULES hehe :))

Clink clink.

The rattling sound of your custom-fit collar's tiny tag could barely be heard over your and your daddy's mix of heavy breathing. Large hands gripping your ankles, Ari had your legs bent up at an obscene angle as you lay on your back against the soft white bedding below. "Fuck, puppy. Look so pretty, takin' all of me like this. What a good girl," you were melting into the towering man's touch as he brought up a few rough fingers to caress your cheek, warm with wanting.

Ari's gaze traveled over your glistening body, spread out perfectly before him like a feast to be devoured. The glimmering shine of your gold tag caught his eye, eliciting a deep groan from within him as he brought his hand down to gently turn over the small, heart-shaped plate against your neck. "All fuckin' mine," he all but growled as the pads of his fingers traced over the letters that spelled out his initials. It was more than a symbol of love; it carried a heavier weight- ownership.

He rutted up harder into you, his punishing pace drawing tears from your eyes as his gaze settled back on your precious features. "Baby," he murmured, softening slightly at the sight of your tears. "Bein' such a good little pup for me, c'mon- show me you can take it. Are you gonna be good and take Daddy's dick?"

You were gasping as he thrust up against your sweet spot repeatedly, the sensation of him stretching you open causing goosebumps to prickle up along the back of your neck. You shivered, trying to construct an acceptable response. Smiling at the sight of you being fucked stupid, your loving daddy helped you by bringing his hand back up to cup your cheek and jaw, his thumb slipping in between your glossy pink lips as he forced out a nod from you. "Good girl," he crooned as you mindlessly nursed his thick digit, your tongue rolling sloppily around its tip as he tightened his grip on you. "That's it, baby. Just let Daddy do all the thinkin'. Nothin' but a dumb little puppy for Daddy to play with- isn't that right? You're my pretty little puppy?"

You didn't need his help to nod this time, your eyelashes batting so sweetly as his grin spread further across his face. When he slowed the movement of his hips, you were a bit confused as Ari pulled out of you, bringing his hands down to guide the tip of his massive length to trail cruelly over your messy folds. You let out the cutest little whine, your thighs flailing weakly as he bumped himself right up against your puffy button.

"I know baby, I know," your daddy hummed, wanting to draw out his teasing as much as he could force himself to. "Just wanna take my time with you, sweetheart. You're such a pretty little puppy, you know that?" He brought a hungry hand up to paw at one of your breasts as it sat so perfectly beneath the flimsy fuchsia lace he had dressed you up in. Pinching and rolling your hardened nipple through the sheer fabric, he chuckled as you squirmed softly under his touch. "My perfect little pup, so pretty in pink. Makin' it hard for me to control myself, baby. S'hard to be gentle with you when you're this fuckin' cute."

When you felt his smooth tip nudging up against your smaller hole, you let out a squeak in surprise; being the good daddy he was, Ari was quick to reassure you. "Don't worry, pretty girl. Daddy won't make it hurt, just relax..." His fingers collected plenty of your wetness, dragging it down to prep his length for you. "Deep breath, angel. There," he gasped along with you as the head of his member pushed past your tight ring of flesh, the intrusion burning deep in your tummy.

"That's my good girl," Ari kept praising you proudly as he gradually worked you open, only giving you as much as you could handle. One of his thumbs came up to brush over your swollen clit, the pad of his skilled finger tracing circles over the hardened nub as a way to soothe the heat of the stretch. "You gonna be a good little pup and take all of me, princess? Gonna let me ruin this tight little bottom? Fuck-"

"D-Daddy," you mumbled, your gaze growing hazy as the pressure in your tummy expanded. Nearing the brink himself, Ari knew the signs of your impending orgasm like the back of his hand.

"C'mon, puppy. Give it to me." Forehead drenched in sweat, the man furrowed his brow harshly in concentration as he flicked his thumb faster over your aching button. "Come for Daddy, baby. Come for me, shit, that's it-" Like waves colliding, your climaxes both hit at once, glorious and gruesome in the way they made your bodies explode in tandem. As your high squirted out forcefully against the large man's front, his heavy release was shooting up into you, filling you with an indescribable warmth.

Seconds passed that felt like minutes. When your eyes finally fluttered open again, your legs were trembling uselessly off to either side of you as your chest rose and fell sporadically. You felt something leaving you, the harsh tug on your sensitive walls pulling a diminished cry from your hoarse throat.

"Shhh," your daddy's familiar voice soothed, a gentle hand rubbing careful circles on your knee. "I'm here, baby. Daddy's here. You did so well." In an instant, he was collecting you in his arms. He moved you away from the edge of the bed, propping you up against a few pillows as his lips came down to press against your dampened forehead.

"Now you just wait here, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna go get a rag to clean you up. Just close your eyes, baby. There," seeing your exhaustion, he didn't want to make you lift a single finger. "Daddy's here, angel. Daddy'll take care of you."

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babyseraphim · 15 days ago

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1910's music: Edwin Payne style

Hi ya’ll! Friendly music teacher/opera singer here to answer a question that pretty much no one has asked (except me): what music would Edwin have listened to/enjoyed when he was alive?

I’ve separated this into three different genres (classical, jazz, and pop), so the entire thing is pretty long. I've also tried to give references for any additional information provided, but most of it is coming straight from my brain after years of music history classes, so feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong.

Classical Music

So, the first thing to know about me is that I’m a big pianist!Edwin truther, and I'm going to be talking about it a lot in this post. It was extremely common for families (especially wealthy families) to have their children train in some sort of instrument from an early age back then, so learning music was something that Edwin likely would have been forced to do.

There are some classical pieces that I have already heard mention of amongst the fandom, so I will stick them in the 'honorable mentions' section, but I want to feature some music that I haven't seen mentioned in conjunction with Edwin's character yet. 1. Erik Satie's Trios Gnosiennes (1893)

So, I've always associated the first three Gnosiennes with Edwin not only because they're so hauntingly beautiful, but also because they're rhythmically very different than a lot of other classical music of his time. The Gnosiennes are largely played in 'free time' (with no time signatures or bar lines), which is a bit unusual for the genre (though modern classical music has a lot more of it). Satie's music really pulled away from a lot of musical customs, spurning traditional forms and tonal structures in favor of more creative options, and I think Edwin would have really enjoyed it.

Edwin's possible interest in breaking musical customs will come back a lot throughout this post, but given that he is often characterized as going against the social grain (whether he was trying to or not), I think he really would have enjoyed Satie's works as a whole. However, Trios Gnosiennes just really speak to me for his character.

2. Igor Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring (premiered in 1913)

The Rite of Spring was a Russian ballet that Stravinsky was commissioned to write for the Ballet Russes company. The work was known for its dissonance and barbarity, and the dancing was described as 'jerky' and 'hedonistic'.

Now, do I think that Edwin would have particularly enjoyed the sound of the the Rite of Spring? Maybe not, but I imagine he likely would have respected its departure from the musical decorum of his time (the piece later went on to be considered one of the the earliest examples of modernism in music). The first public showing of The Rite of Spring caused the theater to break out into a riot partially due to the fact that they thought the music/dancing was a work of blasphemy, and I just think Edwin would have found that hilarious.

3. Gaetano Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor (1835), particularly Spargi d'amaro pianto (the famous 'mad scene' aria)

I don't think Edwin would have been a fan of opera as a whole, but I do think that this work's entertaining twists, literary origins, and technically challenging composition might have caught his eye (I even went so far as to sing through this aria a few nights ago because I was curious, and yeah, its really fucking hard).

Lucia di Lammermoor is a tragic opera based on the 1819 novel The Bride of Lammermoor by Walter Scott, which was based on the real life story of a woman named Janet Dalrymple. Lucia was performed at the Met nearly every season from 1903-1972, and I imagine that if it was doing well in America, it must have been doing numbers in Europe.

Honorable Mentions - Claude Debussy's Clair de Lune and Deux Arabesques - Frédéric Chopin's Noctures (particularly Op. 9, No. 1) and Études (particularly Op. 25, No. 11) - Erik Satie's Trios Gymonepdies

Jazz Music

So, this is where my pianist!Edwin headcanon starts to diverge from the pretty much all of the other music-related headcanons I've seen.

Technically speaking, 'jazz' as we know it didn't really exist when Edwin was alive; he died literally one the cusp of the the Golden Age of Jazz, which is a huge fucking bummer. Jass (as it would've have been referred to in the 1910's) mostly consisted of ragtime and early blues, and was considered to be a 'fringe' style of music (pretty much entirely due to racism). As far as acceptability went, being a teenager with a love for 'jass' in the 1910's would have been the social equivalent of being a teenager with a love for ska or punk music in the 80's (the parallels!!!)

I think its pretty well argued within the fandom that Edwin is a bit rebellious when it come to authority and societal standards, and even though I think he was probably less of a little shit while he was alive, there's no way he was just totally fine with living inside the lines. I posit that, as a rebellion, he would have spurned classical music and became a ragtime pianist (which was one of the main precursors to jazz as we know it today). I actually wrote a fic about this way back when I first joined the fandom, for anyone who's interested!

1. Scott Joplin's Sugar Cane Rag (1908), Fig Leaf Rag (1908), and Paragon Rag (1909)

Scott Joplin (the King of Ragtime) was the most famous ragtime pianist of all time, and one of the driving forces behind creating the jazz genre as we know it. I guarantee that you guys have heard his most famous song, The Entertainer, at least once, and have probably heard his Maple Leaf Rag as well. If Edwin was into ragtime, then its a sure thing that he would have been a big fan of Scott Joplin's rags. I picked the three that I thought suited him best.

2. James Scott's Frog Legs Rag (1906) and Sunburst Rag (1909)

James Scott was also a famous American ragtime composer, and both of the listed songs would have been released when Edwin was pretty young. He probably wouldn't have been old enough to play them for a few years, depending on his training, but thinking of a little 12 year old Edwin learning to play these (as well as Scott Joplin's rags) in his free time just fucking tickles me. I love it so much.

3. Davy Peyton and Spencer Williams' I Ain't Got Nobody, recorded by Marion Harris in 1916

I Ain't Got Nobody was an early jazz standard from 1915 that eventually developed into a multi-genre standard (meaning that it was considered a standard for multiple genres, ranging from jazz to pop to country). I don't have a lot of reasoning for this one other that I think that Edwin would have just really liked Marion Harris' voice.

Honorable Mentions - Euday L. Bowman's Twelfth Street Rag (aka the Spongebob song) - Artie Matthews' Weary Blues

Pop Music

So, a disclaimer here. My music degree required me to take jazz and classical music history classes, which did not cover pop music of the 1910's, so I have fewer historical insights to offer about this genre. However, whenever I think about these songs, I always picture Edwin listening to them through a phonograph while doing homework on his bed, like a teenage girl listening to Sabrina Carpenter or Chappell Roan while studying (I know that's silly, but I think its just such a fun visual). 1. Leo Friedman's Let Me Call You Sweetheart, recorded by the Arthur Clough in 1910

Let Me Call You Sweetheart was one of the highest charting songs throughout the early 1910's, and the most popular version was recorded by a group called the Peerless Quartet. Edwin doesn't really strike me as a quartet enjoyer, though, and this version by Arthur Clough was released the same year. I think he would have enjoyed the tonal quality of Clough's voice much more.

2. Grace Le Boy's The Good Ship Mary Anne, recorded by Nora Bayes in 1914

Nora Bayes was a very famous vaudeville performer of the 1920's, and lot of her biggest hits were recorded shortly after Edwin died (like, literally 1917-1925). I wrote a snippet for a fic that got left on the cutting room floor a while back about the song itself providing a positive association with the term 'Mary Anne', and I still stick by that. In this song, the name 'Mary Anne' only refers to a ship.

3. Irving Berlin's Alexander's Ragtime Band, recorded by Arthur Collins and Byron G. Harlan in 1911

So, this song could technically go under the jazz section, but I'm going to put it here, and I'll explain why. Jazz is an art from that was created and popularized by black musicians, which is why it was seen as such an undesirable art form for such a long time. People liked the music, but they didn't like that it was made by black artists. Alexander's Ragtime Band originated in Tin Pan Alley and was one of the top charting songs for much of 1911 (first in America, then overseas), but it was created by a white artist that was simply 'jumping a trend'. Strictly speaking, genre-wise, its not even a ragtime song—it's a march. It's just about ragtime.

I honestly don't really even like this song that much, and I'm not sure Edwin would have very strong feelings about it either. However, it was an extremely pivotal song for the time period, and likely would have been inescapable (or as inescapable as music could be back in the 1910's, given that music required either records or live performances). Think of it as the equivalent of a pop song that you could really do without, but its so popular that it keeps winning awards and playing in every Forever 21 and H&M within a ten mile radius.

Honorable Mentions - Gus Edwards' By the Light of the Silvery Moon, recorded by Ada Jones - Percy Wenrich's Moonlight Bay, recorded by Dolly Connolly

~~~~

I hope you guys enjoyed this! I also made a playlist, if you'd like to take a look (I couldn't find all the songs, and not all of them are time period accurate, but I tried my best).

If ya'll liked this, I might make one for Charles and dive into ska and Rude Boy culture a little bit. Feel free to send me any questions or ideas you have about all this stuff, too! I love talking about it.

For the people who asked to be tagged: @likemmmcookies @edwinspaynes @asnottoldbyginger @rexrevri

@l-nightmare @ricebees @aroacespacerock @haledamage

(plus i'm tagging you, @laiqualaurelote, because I feel you would appreciate this)

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda show #edwin payne #my writing

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

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Met Gala

a/n Right so because I haven't yet recovered from all the strokes I've suffered from seeing that man slaying so hard. Here is something that hopefully will help. Enjoy and as always all the love is so appreciated!🤍✨

summary: very much self explanatory. Pedro and actress!reader attending met gala.

dress references: option one, two and three because like a true woman I can't pick...

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Talk about life-changing experiences. When you auditioned for The Last Of Us, you never truly believed that you could get it. You were a freshly baked actress who had successful shows in the past, but nothing too explosive. People turned their heads towards you when they just came out, and then you were back to being nothing. Fighting for the spotlight was quite something, and even if you never cared for it much, it was still important for you to do justice to the characters you got to play.

So to say that the whole experience that The Last Of Us brought to you was new and unfamiliar would be an understatement. It was your ultimate breakthrough. The opportunities were flooding in from all directions, and most of the time they included much more than just acting. Yet all the background noise aside, this was where you found your second family. People who were way more than just costars or screen buddies. You often joked with Craig that he had ruined acting for you. That no matter where you went and what you did, you would always be missing the crew of The Last Of Us.

"I still think that it's unfair that we are in separate hotel rooms", Pedro said while trying to set his phone up on the table. You two had flown to New York from different locations. Both of you were occupied with your own projects now, meaning that you haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks. The relationship between you two sparked so quickly that within a day of knowing him, it already felt like Pedro had been a lifelong friend. He was one of those people who just radiated happiness and kindness. One of those people you knew was going to leave an imprint on your life.

"If we were in the same room, I doubt we would make it onto the carpet, P", Pedro couldn't see your face fully. Your phone faced the ceiling as you tried to put on some fake lashes. All Pedro got was a glimpse at your hair full of rollers. And even that was enough to make his heart a little more jittery. Pedro had missed you. More than missed you. You two had been together every day while shooting TLOU. Always laughing. Always talking. Renting a different Airbnb to stay in if you stay in the current location for a longer time. Needing that much more than a cold hotel room. That also meant that the dynamic got rather domestic between the two of you. Waking up with you, having breakfast with you, and driving to set together. No matter where or what you did, you were always together, and that was something that ripped at Pedro's heart on a daily basis now that you two had gone your separate ways to do individual projects.

"I will have a migraine before I send him off. All I've been hearing is Y/N this, Y/N that", Coco, Pedro's stylist and one of your friends now, cut in, making Pedro let out an obnoxious gasp. "That is so not true. How dare you!", he exhaled, placing a hand over his chest offensively. But hearing your laugh on the other side of the phone was all he truly needed; Pedro felt his body at ease. "It's okay, P, separation anxiety or not, I still love you", you moved more in the frame, and Pedro instantly caught your eye. Beautiful as ever as you smiled at him. But he just shook his head, keeping up with the character, "You two are working against me today, mean ladies", before you three burst into a laugh together.

"Is Bella driving with you?", you asked once again while still fidgeting through your makeup bag. "No, they will be going earlier on. Want to avoid the chaos that builds when more people come in", you hummed at his answer. Perfectly understanding it, because the amount of paparazzi at the Met Gala was quite literally a sea. Add celebrity after celebrity climbing the infamous stairs, and you have a recipe for the chaos that is filled with endless flashing and screams. So knowing that they would be there before it all went wild eased your nerves slightly. Just deep down, you wished you could do the same thing. Fearing the moment you would have to step out of the car. What if you tripped? What if something broke? What if you messed up?

As if sensing the worry rising within you, Pedro picked up the conversation once again, "Is someone coming with you?". Pedro was worried as well. Not that much for himself, even if he wasn't a huge fan of events so flashy, but for you. Even in The Last Of Us premieres, he had noticed the way your body would run cold, and anxiety threatened to take over. He was always there to subtly bring you back. Give you something to focus on. Whether it was his hand that would rub patterns on your back, his knee that rested against your shaky leg, or his finger reaching out to playful poke your side so he could take your mind off it.

You hummed, "Yeah, Blake said he'd be there just in case", Pedro nodded his head even if you couldn't see it, satisfied with the answer. Blake was your manager and best friend. Pedro got to meet him more than a couple of times and, in all honesty, liked him. It was that extra layer of calmness that lingered, knowing that someone he also trusted would be there. Someone who had been with you through the years and who knew how to handle things if they suddenly got complicated.

"Are you excited?", you took your phone in your hands, getting a closer look at the man who Coco was fussing over. "To see you? Yes", Pedro chirped, and you rolled your eyes instantly. "You're a shameless flirt. I saw that you painted your nails". Pedro quickly showed both of his middle fingers to the camera, quite literally flipping you off. "Oh, thank you, love", you said, laughing as he quickly lowered his hand as he too realized how it looked.

Pedro was about to speak up when someone called out your name, pulling your attention away from the phone. "I'll have to go", you flashed Pedro a sad smile. "They want to tape my titties", "And I'm not getting behind-the-scenes footage?", Pedro leaned in closer, bringing his phone practically to his face as if he somehow was going to get a better look at what your stylist was going to do. "Pedro…", you laughed as you shook your head. "Will I get to see you putting on your pants?", you teased him back. Not wanting to end the call even if the lady was already waiting for you. Pedro only threw you a sheepish smile. "Who said I'm wearing any?", and once again all you could do was let out yet another laugh.

That was two hours ago, yet it seemed more like a lifetime. "Breathe, before I'll have to drag your past-down body up the stairs", Blake joked, noticing how you were running your hands up and down the fabric of your cover before moving to run your fingers over all the different beads and lace layers. "I'm just nervous", you admitted, looking through the car window. Smiling wasn't the hardest part. Most people would probably think that you're ungrateful for not wanting to go. Many would do anything to attend, but you were never a huge fan of being in the spotlight. All eyes on you sounded more like a nightmare than a dream. The thought itself made your body shiver.

"It'll be okay; pose a little and drink a lot", you rolled your eyes at him. You loved having him by your side. Not understanding why most people hate working with their best friends or family. It was such a liberating feeling knowing that you could trust Blake fully and that when you didn't feel like handling some things, he could easily do it without you since, at times, he knew you even better than you did.

Pedro knew that he was going to be there before you. Coco had told him that you were still in the hotel right before their car took off. He wasn't lying when he said that he was excited to see you. Most of his nervousness was centered around that. He knew that nothing had changed between you. If anything, things were okay, but he would have preferred to see you before the event and have a calm moment together instead of being thrown into madness like this.

He posted like he always did. Knowing well how to capture the attention of the crowd. Flipping the cameras a couple of times to show off his nails, just like he had done with you. Time escaped you in moments like this. It was always hard to tell if you'd been standing in front of the flashing lights for ten minutes or an hour. Your brain only focused on angles and poses, but then the shouting at the bottom of the stairs caught his attention.

Pedro turned to look to the side as you moved to step out of the car. He was sure that people were going to have a blast looking at his reaction afterward, but he couldn't help but look. You two purposely hid your outfits from each other. Well, at the start, you had thought about going matching and even doing the same designer, but you quickly realized that it might raise too many speculations. Pedro couldn't help but smile a proud smile as he watched you glide through the carpet. A goddess. That's what you were in his eyes. No one could come close to you, and sure, you could call him biased, but to him, you were the most beautiful female here tonight.

"Get pictures of Y/N; that's the real diamond of the night", he shouted, moving both of his arms to show you. Making you snap your head toward him. Your cool posing face was quickly replaced by a shy smile as you bit your lip. Of course, he was having a blast showing you off. "Mesmerized and speechless", he muttered to you when you were almost within reach. "Hello, daddy", you whispered as he took hold of your hand, guiding you up the steps leading to him. Pedro tilted his head laughing, saying, "Hello to you, mama". You doubted that you were thinking straight. He looked so good. The slick-back hair. The red color. You were an advocate that pink was the color Pedro owned, but red… Something about the red made all the systems shut down for a split second.

"I understand now why this was hidden from me", Pedro said, moving a step back from you so he could take your whole outfit in. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. "Don't", you warned him, trying to keep a smile off your face. This man knew how to get under your skin. He had made you redder than a tomato, even on set. Complimenting you even if you were in nothing but a baggy shirt with your hair messily pulled back. "Especially when you rolled up looking like this", you glanced down at the black shorts that he was rocking. "Where was my warning that the slutty knee was going to be on display?", but Pedro didn't say anything as he grinned, stepping alongside you. Pulling your body closer to his. His arm curled around your torso. Firmly pressing into the central boning of your dress. You could feel the warmth from his palm seeping into your tummy. He was standing just slightly behind you, but you could still see his outfit.

People were going crazy, and keeping a straight face while you posed was getting harder, especially when all you could hear were people screaming your names as an occasional they look like a couple, they must be dating. Are you together? Are you in love? Flouted around. Oh, he was going to drive you insane, and he knew it. Enjoying every single moment of it.

And even if it seemed almost impossible, Pedro stepped even closer to you and leaned in, pressing a kiss on your exposed shoulder. Your body froze for a moment. The butterflies burst inside you. If you weren't red by now, this definitely send you over the edge. You two were supposed to keep it chill. Not to bring too many eyes your way, but this man had other thoughts. Ever since the production started, people have been talking that the chemistry between you seemed way too good to just be acting. That the touches you two shared or the looks that lingered had to be a disguise for something. But then it would all mellow down as Pedro would be seen as a loving father figure to Bella or Nico. You had to find a balance. A light kiss could be brushed off as a sign of mutual respect. I don't know… mutual something?

But no… At that moment, it seemed like only you were thinking about everyone else's opinions. Pedro kissed your shoulder once before leaning back in to brush at least a couple more feather-like kisses along your skin. "Pedro", you muttered. Moving your hand to rest on his leg, you said, "You'll get us in trouble, you little shit". Your fingertips just about reached the exposed skin of his thigh as you grazed your nails over it. Pedro let out a muffled growl, "And you care?".

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your lips. The PR team was going to rip both of your heads off tomorrow; you were sure of it. But feeling him so close felt good. The smell of him. The way you could feel his breath on your skin. You moved to look up at Pedro, his body reacting to your movements as he lowered his gaze. Your eyes met, and for a heartbeat, you couldn't hear anything; it was just him and you. Pedro leaned in to place a kiss on your temple, and the crowd of paparazzi exploded. There wasn't a second when not even one camera wasn't going off. People were trying to surround you and get pictures of you two from all the different angles.

The screams pierced through your ears, making you take a light step back into Pedro. One of the photographs got way too close, and when the flash finally snapped, you quickly turned your head away from them, shifting towards Pedro's chest. He was quick to lift his palm to cover your eyes as an initial reaction before he stepped in front of you, shielding your body with his. You gave him a little smile as you blinked a couple of times, trying to get the stinging feeling to go away.

"You're okay?", he asked softly, his arms not letting go of your body as he looked around trying to find Blake. He nodded at him the moment he noticed the male approaching. "I'm fine, thank you", you knew that you needed to finish with the pictures and just go up, but being exposed to them all was the last thing on your wishlist. "Come on, let's get…", Pedro was ready to just walk you up, but you quickly took his hand into yours. "Smile", you mumbled quietly as you stepped from behind him, refueling the chaos once more, but this was just how these things worked, and you had to pull through even if you could tell that Pedro was silently fighting this decision you had chosen.

Your hands were trembling when you finally made it up. You had close to no recollection of what you talked about in the handful of interviews that you had. Just thankful to be in a little, private area away from all of the people now, even if you could still hear them all shouting. Not many people lingered here, and for that, you were thankful. Closing your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself a chance to breathe.

"You are too stubborn for your good", you slowly opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of Pedro standing in front of you with a glass of water in hand. "No bubbles?", you joked as you place the glass to your lips. "So your heart would explode and I'd be the main suspect? No, thank you", Pedro shook his head, urging you to drink some more. "Careful, Javier Pena just jumped out", you teased him, and Pedro nudged your shoulder playfully.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?", he asked you, carefully moving to push a strand of hair behind your ear. You wished your body wasn't as responsive as you felt yet another shiver slip past you. "I think you showed it, detective", you said, tilting your head to the side. Pedro read it as an invitation to press a kiss on your shoulders again. This time, however, he took his time, knowing that the corner he had chosen was far enough for you to stay out of sight. It was like he was painting a picture on your skin, the pattern snaking from shoulder to neck, right behind your ear. You desperately want to run your hands through his hair, but you know that if you messed with it, there would be no going back, so you gently place your hand on the back of his neck. Scraping your nails gently.

"We can't", you remind him, yet you don't pull away. Quite the opposite, bringing him even closer. "I haven't seen my girlfriend in two weeks", Pedro reminded you bluntly, hands now firmly holding onto your waist. "Tiny detail. They don't know you have a girlfriend". The lines had been blurry between the two of you from the start. There was a lot of respect there. Before more romantic scenes, you would always sit down and talk about each other's boundaries. Things one and the other were comfortable doing and not. The communication between the two of you was like no other. It was easy. It was comfortable. It made you feel safe. So when you fell into bed together after a particularly steamy shoot, it didn't surprise you all too much. But even that felt right, and after long conversations, you decided to give it a go. You both had some shit experiences with your past relationships, which made you both pretty weary of long-term commitment, but you were willing to give it a chance, and that was all that mattered.

That had been going on for six months now, and no one besides your managers knew. It was odd telling them even before you told your families, but you needed to have a damage control system ready to go off the moment something slipped up or too many speculations started to linger. And it wasn't that you were scared of people's reactions. Most of them wanted you married already, not to mention the need for you to have kids and finally make Pedro a real daddy. It was all sweet, but you two wanted to do this for yourselves. To enjoy the time together without anyone and their mother trying to dig through your lives and write endless amounts of articles about every move you too took together.

"We need to find Bella", you muttered, pushing lightly onto Pedro's chest. Knowing that you needed to stop him before he lost his cool and you would have to walk around with freshly formed hickeys. Pedro rested his forehead on your shoulder and said, "I asked Blake to look for her", "Well, that makes sense why he's not here, huh", Pedro let out a chuckle even if he shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear innocent.

You quickly smoothed down his coat, straightened his black tie, and pulled at the edges of his shorts. "Alright there, trying to get my pants off so quickly", he said, and you pinched his leg playfully, making him step away from you. "Watch it, Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal or we might just sleep in separate rooms tonight", you said, pointing a warning finger at him. But Pedro didn't seem to feel threatened, as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it closer to him so he could kiss the tip of your finger.

"We both know you won't take away my pleasure of taking that boobie tape off you", that was enough to send you into another fit of laughter. You had no clue why that thing mesmerized him so much, but there hasn't been a time since you started dating him that he hasn't participated in that procedure. "You, sir, are so weird", standing up, and fixing up your clothes, you tugged at the top of your dress to feel a bit more comfortable, "Sure, but you love me, so who are we fooling?", Pedro offered you his hand, which you gladly took, leaning closer into him. "Let's go find our kid before I go grey from all the worrying".

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #javier pena x reader

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ewingstan · 6 months ago

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I. Introduction

A while ago, I wrote on how Jack Slash was a prime example of how Worm approaches metatextual commentary. Wildbow has a general tendency in his first two serials especially to identify common story tropes and give them in-universe justifications. Jack Slash in particular is a response to the tendency for writers to give plot armor to the Joker and similar sorts of popular villain characters. The out-of-story justification of the authors ("we can't have someone just shoot him, that's boring, besides everyone loves this guy look at him go") becomes an in-story aspect of his powers: an ability to subtly influence other capes behavior allowing him to always escape danger. Plot armor transformed into an in-universe mechanic that characters are aware of, react to, and work against.

Notably, this tendency is never used to highlight the status of wildbow's characters as characters— there is no fourth-wall breaking or attempts to undermine the audience's perception of the story as containing essentially a self-contained world running on its own internal logic. But this certainly isn't the only way you could comment on Joker-type charcter's plot armor: Funny Games covers similar ground using the opposite trick, repeatedly having its home-invader villains draw attention to how they're characters in a story, and that whether they win or lose is determined wholly by the author's will. Director Michael Haneke continually draws his audience into the story only to violently and repeatedly pull them out with suspension-of-disbelief-shattering acts on the villains part. It's The Treachery of Images as a horror movie.

Together, Worm and Funny Games showcase two different approach to explaining why the villain gets to live another day. If you can explain their deal using only the internal logic of the story ("Jack has a power that lets them escape consequences"), then the author is giving a diegetic justification for the trope justified by mechanisms of the story's universe. If you can't explain their deal without reference to them being characters in a narrative ("Paul can talk to the audience and rewind time because he's a fictional character and can do whatever the author says he can do") then its a "narrative" or nondiegetic justification for the trope.

These can be combined. Seidlinger's Anybody Home? used them together for awkward effect: serial killers perform acts that get recorded by some mysterious "camera" that produces a log of their events, which through mystical and mysterious means gets distributed to film producers and adapted into horror movies. Killers have fully "narrative" reasons for following horror tropes—they know they have an audience and are behaving for their benefit. But the story suffers from its awkward in-story justification, its "mechanical" framing: the audience the killers are acting for are other people within the story's universe, not the readers of the book. Characters realize they're "victims" in a story, but they're framed not as existing fully for the story but as normal people who got caught within a story, stuck in it like one gets caught in a storm.

In this post I want to highlight some more elegant ways of combining the mechanical and narrative approaches to metafiction, especially in regards to plot armor. I'll be commenting on wildbow's second serial Pact, Homestuck, and Eidolon DISKA, and heavily spoiling all of them. I've divided them into sections so readers can avoid spoilers or skip over works they're uninterested in, though they're not separate essays. I'd maybe recommend checking out DISKA if you haven't. Its great. Alright then.

II.

Pact and the otherverse gives its characters diagetic reasons for following tropes that align with narrative rules though its magic system. Otherverse magic largely involves telling the universe a story and hoping that your behavior has enough symbolic resonance that it believes you. A lot of the magic spells work on a "I dunno, this feels like it would work" logic.

This means that characters need to be aware of how characters in good stories would act, and often need to behave in a way that is believable if they were characters in a story. The result is that Blake Thorburn ends up purposefully trying to emulate a monster from a horror story, purposefully playing into the tropes of such a character. He acts like a specific type of story character, not because he's broken the fourth wall and knows he's in a horror story, but because he knows convincing the universe that he's a horror villain will likely lead to the universe letting him survive just a little bit longer before he collapses into an exsanguinated heap.

However, Pact's approach to the specific mechanics and abilities of Blake and other monstrous entities of his ilk is much more in-line with how wildbow previously approached Jack Slash. Horror-movie style monsters are a grab-bag of entities called "Boogeymen" within the setting, with little in common outside of previously being people who had fallen through the cracks of reality and climbed out of the abyss changed.

The tropes of slasher movies are once again given mechanical justification: the monster drives conflict and acts unpredictably because being feared gives its more of a foothold in reality. It can't stay dead (and keeps returning for sequels) because it can always climb back out of the abyss again, or be summoned by Scourges to be used against their enemies. Some of the ways the in-universe boogieman mechanics reproduce these tropes are explicitly narrative justifications—they're stronger if the universe sees their ends as especially "iconic," and Blake seems to be empowered the most when he leans into character and goes on a rampage— but for the most part, you could explain their deal without having to refer to their roles as characters in a narrative.

III

The same couldn't be said for Homestuck's take on the serial-killer trope, which is explicable pretty much only in non-diagetic terms. Which is interesting insofar as its one of the only parts of Homestuck that doesn't at least provide a diagetic fig-leaf for a character following a cultural script.

Much like Pact's Otherverse, Homestuck also formalizes many narrative tropes as diagetic, in-universe mechanical laws of its setting. However, it doesn't bother giving justifications for why the setting has such mechanics. There's no equivalent to "they're like this because the magic of the abyss;" Homestuck's mechanical rules are almost more in the Funny Games vein of being inexplicable if you don't accept that they're the consequences of this being a story.

But the narrative rules it draws attention to are often all its own. See, in some ways the setting of Homestuck is meant to be an obvious set of fantasy Bildungromane. The characters enter a game world, Sburb, and are each deposited on a planet with almost stock templates: Land of Wind and Shade, Land of Heat and Clockwork, etc. Each are filled with a population of simple game constructs with little personality outside of what's needed to drop lore tidbits, and a slumbering denizen connected to a personal quest tailor-made for the player. This sense of "generic fantasy world made for a generic fantasy quest" is heightened by Homestuck's constant references to other media containing famous lands constructed from fantasy stories: Peter Pan/Hook, the Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, Don Quixote, and The Neverending Story. (That last example makes up not only a substantial amount of aesthetic references, but also structural echoes; as Homestuck copies it by having a second half in which reader-stand ins enter the story, characters go from one world to another, and the role of author and audience gets muddled in a world-threatening manner.)

It seems like the game Sburb created the players different worlds to facilitate a typical Bildungroman adventure. Enter the fantasy land, meet the locals, learn the lore, defeat the monster. Unlike Jacob's Bell, The Lands of Homestuck don't make sense as anything besides a game construct, a way to facilitate this narrative arc. And the character's tendency to sidestep the quests set up by the Lands and skip through or break things feels like a subversion of those typical sorts of fantasy stories.

A complicating factor, though, is that the game was set up with the expectation that the players would skip around and break things. The entire game is composed of a series of time loops, including the characters creating themselves, creating the big bad in an attempt to defeat him, etc. Everything that happens in a game session was engineered to happen "by" the game—including the parts that seem to break the intended narrative arc of the Lands. There's plenty of things that seem to be breaking the "intended" experience: Rose taking apart her game world, Vriska reading the mind of her Land's consorts to find out all the lore they have pre-programmed in, Jack Noir killing the Black King before the players could face him as the intended final boss. But all of these turn out to be essential conditions for the game coming to exist in the first place, for the characters to create themselves, for the Lands to be created as game constructs in the first place. The game creates conditions that require the players to "cheat."

In other words, its not just that the comic is subverting a typical fantasy story. Its that Sburb itself is a game that runs on the narrative rules. Not the narrative rules of a fantasy Bildungroman, but the narrative rules of a subversion of a fantasy Bildungroman. The subversion is expected and built-in.

This subversion-as-the-rule is something Hussie enjoys making the narrative conciet of a story: early Problem Sleuth was written with the one rule that the audience could never be right about how the main character's office worked. Its also a feature of Homestuck's general approach to characters and dialogue. I think a good example of this is Eridan and Feferi's early conversations. They get introduced as the primary examples of a form of alien romance the narrative just got done explaining, a pair of moirails that the narrator declares are "made for each other". But of course, the subversion of that is already built in, as before Eridan's full introduction we learned that he wanted to be in a different relationship with Feferi. So when the first few on-screen appearances of these characters turns out to be their break-up texts, its a "subversion" of the destined romance the narrator set-up, but its a sign-posted and expected subversion.

But back in terms of Sburb's mechanics: players of the game who perform a ritual to achieve god-tier status can only die if their death is either Heroic or Just: that is, they can only die if it’s narratively satisfying. If a powerful character dies without it being a satisfying heroic sacrifice or a satisfying end to a villainous rein of destruction—in other words, if the death is uninteresting and narratively pointless, then the character pops right back up. Like in Worm, plot armor is a mechanic of the setting that the characters can find out about and exploit, and like with Pact's boogeymen, characters become whole new types of beings as part of fitting to a character narrative that'd require plot armor. But unlike in wildbow's work, Homestuck's God Tiers have little in the way of diagetic justification. Hussie knows that there are situations where an audience won’t accept the stakes set out before them—they can tell that the bad thing can’t be allowed to happen, because if it did the plot couldn’t continue or the story would suffer, so they know the bad thing won’t happen. Accepting this, they play around with the trope by having it literally impossible for the bad thing to happen if the story would be worse for it.

But where it gets weird is how this plot-armor mechanic gets applied to Gamzee, in one of my favorite sections of Act 6. Gamzee was introduced as a joke character riffing on the juggalo evil clown subculture, who later goes on a murderous rampage for reasons that are never made fully obvious in-text. He then scuttles about the story as a figure who keeps breaking the story’s rules: both the mechanical rules of how Sburb works and the rules of storytelling generally. This ramps up a lot in Act 6, where he puts on a fake god-tier outfit and starts showing up at times and places he should not be able to be based on the established mechanics of Sburb, which up until then had been incredibly strict parameters on the story. Unlike a lot of the items that loop back in time in convoluted ways, we don’t see how Gamzee appeared on Jane’s planet, or went to the future to raise the cherubs, or all the other shit he gets up to. And we aren’t given a reason for why he’s selling blood like an RPG merchant or why he’s raising the big bad or why he’s doing anything at that point. He becomes a deus ex diabolica, a character whose not really a character at all so much as someone who sets up the obstacles in the story and has no reason for doing so besides the fact that the story wouldn’t work if he wasn’t there to set up the stakes.

One especially odd thing about him though is that even though he never actually reached God tier, he seemingly couldn't be killed.

At first this seems weird. Gamzee is breaking a core mechanical rule of Homstuck: he's immortal despite not being God-tier. But then you remember that the mechanical rule of God-tier immortality was already just a formalization of a narrative rule: a character can't die if the story isn't done with them. Homestuck is breaking its diagetic rules, but following the narrative rules they reflect.

This meta-interpretation of Gamzee's immortality is strengthened by the fact that the above conversation is taking place between Andrew Hussie and one of their characters. Furthermore, said character is a fandom stand-in who later transitions into being an author stand-in. This character (Caliborn) is the main villain of Homestuck, and has been interpreted as everything from the chains of narrative inevitability, to the interface of the webcomic itself, to Homestuck readers with an unhealthy relationship to the work, to the viler tendencies of Hussie themself present throughout the comic.

Not the only such stand-in; nearly all the villains of Homestuck assume some authorial role, as Hussie has an ongoing theme of equating the author role to being a manipulator. Thus the most heroic characters generally are reactive rather than proactive, thus Doc Scratch/Vriska/Dirk/etc all trying to author the timeline or claim causal responsibility for events while manipulating other characters, etc. But Caliborn ends up representing some more of Hussie's specific creative tendencies, and is the only character that Hussie's in-comic self has a conversation with.

Notably, this conversation has pretty much the only instance of Hussie presenting all the weird obstacles of Sburb as something they've set up as the author.

Oddly enough, apart from this, the yellow yard, and the Spades Slick sideplot, "Hussie" as a character has all but no role in the story. Which is in keeping with their (possible farcical?) ethos of all their characters existing as their own entities/character types, with Hussie just expressing them. The Entities in Worm actually end up being more direct author figures than Andrew Hussie's own self-insert, since they at least perform the role of authors (control characters in a way that produces dynamic and interesting scenarios).

This is a part of why the Hussie stand-in apparently lacks knowledge of their own story, and gets surprised by it.

Hussie claims even they don't know where Gamzee got things, what he gets up to, or why he's doing what he's doing. The first two things are probably true, honestly. The actual author Hussie may not have an idea in mind for how Gamzee gets to any of the places he does, since its not really relevant to the story. It feels weird that he doesn't, since so much of the rest of Homestuck is tracking how various objects travel from one point in a timeline to another, but when there's no interesting answer to be constructed by the author none really has to be provided. Again, by this point Gamzee is a plot device that Hussie has dressed up as a funny clown for the audience's amusement, he's not really a character.

But if the Hussie stand-in is meant to be taken seriously when they say they don't know why Gamzee has the keys, then there's a disconnect between Hussie the character and Hussie the author. Since the keys do have a plot purpose that's revealed almost immediately, and that Hussie almost certainly had planned.

A weakness in metafiction generally is that having the author be a character in any real capacity lowers they're ability to be a true author figure. If the stand-in is surprised by something the author wrote, then they're not reflecting the author. If the characters kill the author stand-in, but the story keeps on going, then what the hell was the author representing?

The only piece of metafiction I've seen that squared that circle is EIDOLON DISKA, which mostly suceeds because of its structure as an actual-play. It has a GM who serves as a narrator alongside being the voice of almost all the characters, but all the main characters are acted out by other people. So it can pull a lot of the standard metafiction moves in much more convincing ways. The narrator reveals that he's an in-universe character who they actually know, and whose been writing the story they're all in. When the player characters are still able to rebel and fight against the narrator, it works, because the PCs actually are representing other people making decisions apart from the GM. Even a character usurping the author ends up working, since it just means that character's player becomes the GM.

As you'd expect, EIDOLON DISKA is another piece that blends diagetic and narrative rules. Gods currently writing the story (aka the current GM) can't rewrite portions that previous gods wrote, because doing something so narratively unsatisfying would break their own godhood. Breaking the rules of the Eidolon rpg system also risks being usurped, since they're the narrative rules the story runs on, and the diagetic rules of Godhood are just narrative rules.

This gets most interesting when the characters end up dying, as will sometimes happen in an actual-play of a ttrpg where death is a mechanic. The podcast is divided into two time periods, with the first group being the founding members of their school's mystery solvers club. The second group are the members of the same club 20 years later, trying to solve the murder of the founders. Because the first group's death is a set event that the narrator already wrote would happen at a specific time, every time the characters in that first group die before that point, they have to come back. And once it becomes clear that they're characters, they become aware of this, and start abusing it. They take bigger risks, stop freaking out when their friends get hurt or killed in battle, start getting chatty with the increasingly annoyed grim reaper—in other words, they realize they have plot armor and start acting like it. Since they're aware of and secure of their plot armor, they use it more fully than Blake does. And since its an actual play instead of something written by one person, they're actually able to use that plot armor to be more than a villain thrown into heroes way like Jack Slash or Gamzee. DISKA isn't finished yet, but I have the most hope for it going into interesting places with plot armor out of any of these stories.

#wormblr #parahumans #homestuck #eidolon diska #eidolon playtest #wildbow #andrew hussie #Youtube #pactblr #otherverse #mals says

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